Enter Launce, with his dog.

‘When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look, you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy, one that I sav'd from drowping, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog. I went to deliver him just now to lady Silvia, from my master, having lost his dog Squirel, and I came no sooner into her breakfasting chamber, but he steps me up to her plate and steals her toast and butter. O! 'tis a foul thing, when

cur cannot keep himself in all companies! If I had no more wit than he, to take his faults upon me, I think verily he'd be hang'd; for't; you shall judge. T'other day he thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemanlike dogs, under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a watering-while, but all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one; what cur is that? says another; whip him out, says the third; hang him up, says the duke. I having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs; friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog? Ay marry do I, quoth he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you wot of. He makes no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? nay, I'll be sworn I have sat in the stocks for the marrow puddings he hath stol'n, otherwise he had been executed. Thou think'st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick you serv'd me when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee mark me, and do as I do? when didst thou see me heave up my leg against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?