SCENE III.
The Same. A Street.
Enter Launce, leading a dog.
Launce.
Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done
weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very
fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodigious
son, and am going with sir Proteus to the
imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the
sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping,
my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid
howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our
house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted
cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very
pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a
dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting;
why, my grandam having no eyes, look you,
wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show
you the manner of it: This shoe is my father;—
no, this left shoe2 note
is my father;—no, no, this left
shoe is my mother;—nay, that cannot be so,
neither;—yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser
sole: This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother,
and this my father; A vengeance on't! there 'tis:
-- 42 --
now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she
is as white as a lilly, and as small as a wand: this
hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog3 note
:—no, the dog
is himself, and I am the dog,—oh, the dog is me,
and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my
father; Father, your blessing; now should not the
shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss
my father; well, he weeps on: now come I to my
mother, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood
woman4 note
;—well, I kiss her; why there 'tis;
-- 43 --
here's my mother's breath up and down: now come
I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now
the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks
a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.
Enter Panthino.
Pant.
Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master
is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars.
What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man?
Away, ass; you'll lose the tide, if you tarry any
longer.
Launce.
It is no matter if the ty'd were lost5 note
;
for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd.
Pant.
What's the unkindest tide?
-- 44 --
Launce.
Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my
dog.
Pant.
Tut, man, I mean thou't lose the flood;
and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in
losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing
thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy
service,—Why dost thou stop my mouth?
Launce.
For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pant.
Where should I lose my tongue?
Launce.
In thy tale.
Pant.
In thy tail?
Launce.
Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the
master, and the service:—And the tide6 note
. Why,
man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with
my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the
boat with my sighs.
Pant.
Come, come, away man; I was sent to call
thee.
Launce.
Sir, call me what thou dar'st.
Pant.
Wilt thou go?
Launce.
Well, I will go.
[Exeunt.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
