Launce.
Speed.
Launce, by mine Honesty welcome to Padua.
Laun.
Forswear not thy self, sweet Youth; for I am not
welcome: I reckon this always, that a Man is never undone
'till he is hang'd, nor never welcome a to Place, 'till
some certain Shot be paid, and the Hostess say Welcome.
Speed.
Come on, you Mad-cap; I'll to the Ale-house
with you presently, where, for one Shot of five Pence,
thou shalt have five thousand Welcomes. But, Sirrah, how
did thy Master part with Madam Julia?
Laun.
Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they parted
very fairly in Jest.
Speed.
But shall she marry him?
Laun.
No.
Speed.
How then? Shall he marry her?
Laun.
No, neither.
Speed.
What, are they broken?
Laun.
No, they are both as whole as a Fish.
Speed.
Why then, how stands the Matter with them?
Laun.
Marry thus; when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her.
Speed.
What an Ass art thou? I understand thee not.
Laun.
What a Block art thou, that thou canst not?
My Staff understands me.
Speed.
What thou say'st?
Laun.
Ay, and what I do too: Look thee, I'll but lean,
and my Staff understands me.
Speed.
It stands under thee indeed.
Laun.
Why, stand-under, and understand is all one.
Speed.
But tell me true, will't be a Match?
-- 88 --
Laun.
Ask my Dog: If he say ay, it will; if he say no,
it will; if he shake his Tail, and say nothing, it will.
Speed.
The Conclusion is then, that it will.
Laun.
Thou shalt never get such a Secret from me, but
by a Parable.
Speed.
'Tis well that I get it so: But, Launce, how say'st
thou, that my Master is become a notable Lover?
Laun.
I never knew him otherwise.
Speed.
Than how?
Laun.
A notable Lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
Speed.
Why, thou whoreson Ass, thou mistak'st me.
Laun.
Why Fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy Master.
Speed.
I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Lover.
Laun.
Why, I tell thee, I care not tho' he burn himself
in Love: If thou wilt go with me to the Alehouse, so; if
not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the Name
of a Christian.
Speed.
Why?
Laun.
Because thou hast not so much Charity in thee as
to go the Ale-house with a Christian: Wilt thou go?
Speed.
At thy Service.
[Exeunt.
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
