596Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls

597Court: I thinke Crab mydog, be the sowrest natured

598dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father

599wayling: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our

600Catte wringing her hands, and all our house in a great

601perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre shedde

602one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no

603more pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept

604to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing

605no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting:

606nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is my fa-

607ther: no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left

608shooe is my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther:

609yes; it is so, it is so: it hath the worser sole: this shooe

610with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father:

611a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is my si-

612ster: for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as

613small as a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the

614dogge: no, the dogge is himselfe, and I am the dogge:

615oh, the dogge is me, and I am my selfe: I; so, so: now

616come I to my Father; Father, your blessing: now

617should not the shooe speake a word for weeping:

618now should I kisse my Father; well, hee weepes on:

619Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could speake

620now, like a would-woman: well, I kisse her: why

621there 'tis; heere's my mothers breath vp and downe:

622Now come I to my sister; marke the moane she makes:

623now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor

624speakes a word: but see how I lay the dust with my

625teares.

626 Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is

627ship'd, and thou art to post after with oares; what's the

628matter? why weep'st thou man? away asse, you'l loose

629the Tide, if you tarry any longer.

630 Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the

631vnkindest Tide, that euer any man tide.

632Panth. What's the vnkindest tide?

633Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog.

634 Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'lt loose the flood, and

635in loosing the flood, loose thy voyage, and in loosing thy

636voyage, loose thy Master, and in loosing thy Master,

637loose thy seruice, and in loosing thy seruice: --- why

638dost thou stop my mouth?

639Laun. For feare thou shouldst loose thy tongue.

640Panth. Where should I loose my tongue?

641Laun. In thy Tale.

642Panth. In thy Taile.

643 Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Ma-

644ster, and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer

645were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde

646were downe, I could driue the boate with my sighes.

647 Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call

648thee.

649Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st.

650Pant. Wilt thou goe?

651Laun. Well, I will goe.

655Sil. Seruant.

656Val. Mistris.

657Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you.

658Val. I Boy, it's for loue.

659Spee. Not of you.

660Val. Of my Mistresse then.

661Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him.

662Sil. Seruant, you are sad.

663Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so.

664Thu. Seeme you that you are not?

665Val. Hap'ly I doe.

666Thu. So doe Counterfeyts.

667Val. So doe you.

668Thu. What seeme I that I am not?

669Val. Wise.

670Thu. What instance of the contrary?

671Val. Your folly.

672Thu. And how quoat you my folly?

673Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin.

674Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet.

675Val. Well then, Ile double your folly.

676Thu. How?

677Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour?

678 Val. Giue him leaue, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion.

679Thu. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud,

680then liue in your ayre.

681Val. You haue said Sir.

682Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time.

683 Val. I know it wel sir, you alwaies end ere you begin.

684Sil. A fine volly of words, gentlemē, & quickly shot off

685Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer.

686Sil. Who is that Seruant?

687Val. Your selfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire,

688Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes,

689And spends what he borrowes kindly in your company.

690Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall

691make your wit bankrupt.

692 Val. I know it well sir: you haue an Exchequer of (words,

693And I thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers:

694For it appeares by their bare Liueries

695That they liue by your bare words.

696Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:

697Here comes my father.

698Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset.

699Sir Valentine, your father is in good health,

700What say you to a Letter from your friends

701Of much good newes?

702Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull,

703To any happy messenger from thence.

704Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?

705Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman

706To be of worth, and worthy estimation,

707And not without desert so well reputed.

708Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?

709Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues

710The honor, and regard of such a father.

711Duk. You know him well?

712Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie

713We haue conuerst, and spent our howres together,

714And though my selfe haue beene an idle Trewant,

715Omitting the sweet benefit of time

716To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection:

717Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name)

718Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies:

719His yeares but yong, but his experience old:

720His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe;

721And in a word (for far behinde his worth

722Comes all the praises that I now bestow.)

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