Sil. And when it's writ, for my fake read it over; And if it please you, fo; if not, why fo. Val. If it please me, Madam, what then? Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour; And fo good morrow, servant. Speed. O jest unseen, infcrutable, invif-ible, [Exit. As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor, the letter? Val. How now, Sir? what are you reasoning with your self? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reafon. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokes-man from Madam Silvia. Speed. To your self; why, she wooes you by a figure, Val. What_figure? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? Speed. What need the, When she hath made you write to your self? Why, do you not perceive the jest? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you, indeed, Sir: but did you perceive her earnest? Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there's an end. Val. I would it were no worse. Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well : " For often have you writ to her, and she in modesty, " Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply, "Or " Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind " discover, " Her self hath taught her love himself to write unto " her lover. All this I speak in print; for in print I found it. Val. I have din'd. Speed. Ay, but hearken, Sir; tho' the Cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would fain have meat: oh, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Julia's house at Verona. Pro. H Enter Protheus and Julia. AVE patience, gentle Julia. Jul. 1 muft, where is no remedy. Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the fooner : Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's fake. [Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. Jul. And feal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake; The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me, for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; answer not: The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer, than I should: [Exit Julia. Julia, farewel. - What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. Enter Panthion. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are staid for. Pro. Go; I come. Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. (Exeunt. SCENE Laun. SCENE changes to a Street. Enter Launce, with his dog Crab. NAY, will be this hour re I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have receiv'd my proportion, like the prodigious fon, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sowreft-natur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my fifter crying, our maid howlling, 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 shoe 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 : now, Sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, the is as white as a lilly, and as small as a wand; this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog: oh, the dog is me, and I am my self; ay, fo, fo; 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; oh that she could speak now (9) like a wood woman! well, I (9) Like an ould Woman!] These mere poetical Editors can do Nothing towards an Emendation, even when 'tis chalk'd out to their hands. The first Folio's agree in would-woman; for which, because it was a Mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly substituted ould Woman. But it must be writ, or at least understood, wood Woman, i. e. crazy, frantick with Grief; or, distracted, from any other Cause. The Word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and sometimes writ, wood; fometimes, wode. What Le I kiss her; why, there 'tis? here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my fister; mark the moan the 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 Panthion. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to poft after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? away, ass, you will lose the tide if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were loft, for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and in lofing the flood, lose thy voyage; and in lofing thy voyage, lose thy master; and in losing thy master, lose thy service; and in losing thy service, why dost thou stop my mouth? Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Laun. In thy tale. Pant. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the flood, and the voyage, and the What should be study, or make himself wood ? In his Character of the Monk, They told ev'ry Man that he was wode, He was aghafté so of Noë's flode. In his Miller's Tale. And he likewise uses Wodeness, for Madness. Vid. Spelman's Saxon Glossary in the Word Wod. As to the Reading in the old Editions, Would-woman, perhaps, this may be a design'd Corruption, to make Launce purposely blunder in the Word; as he a little before very humourously calls the Prodigal Son, the Prodigious Son. --I ought to take notice, that my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton sent me up this same Emendation, unknowing that I had already corrected the Place. I had like to have forgot, that Wood is a Term likewise used by our own Poet. Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act 2. And bere am I, and wood within this Wood. Which Mr. Pope has there rightly expounded, by mad, wild, raving. And, again, Shakespeare, in one of his Poems, has this Line: Then to the Woods stark wood in Rage she byes ber. master, master, and the service, and the tide? 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. Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st. Pant. Wilt thou go? SCENE changes to Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. [Exeunt. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed, Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. } Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knockt him. Sil. Servant, you are fad. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? Val. Haply, I do. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary ? Val. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly? Val. I quote it in your jerkin. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well then, I'll double your folly. Thu. How? Sil. What angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? meleon. Thu |