woman!-well, I kifs her ;-why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down; now come I to my fifter; mark the moan fhe makes: now the dog all this while theds not a tear, nor speaks a word ; but fee how I lay the duft with my tears. Enter Panthino. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to poft after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'ft thou, man? Away, afs; 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 unkindeft ty'd that ever any man ty'd, Pan. What's the unkindeft tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lofe the flood; and, in lofing the flood, lofe thy voyage; and, in lofing thy voyage, lofe thy mafter; and, in lofing thy mafter, lofe thy fervice; and, in lofing thy fervice,-Why doft thou ftop my mouth? Laun. For fear thou should'st lafe thy tongue. Laun. In thy tale. Oh that he could speak now like a wood woman !] I am not certain that I understand this paffage. Wood, or crazy women, were anciently fuppofed to be able to tell fortunes. Launce may therefore mean, that as her geftures are thofe of frantic perfons, fo he wishes she was poffeffed of their other powers, and could predict his fate. Or should we point the line as interrupted? Oh that she could fpeak now!-like a wood woman! meaning, I wifh fhe could speak - but she behaves as if she were out of her fenfes! STEEVENS. ? if the ty'd were loft; &c.] This quibble, wretched as it is, might have been borrowed by Shakespeare from Lylly's Endy mion, 1591: You know it is faid, the tide tarrieth for no man, True. A monftrous lye: for I was ty'd two hours, and tarried for one to unlose me. The fame occurs in Chapman's Andromeda Liberata, 1614: Pam 1 Pan. In thy tail? I Laun. Lofe the tide, and the voyage, and the mafter, 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 fighs. Pan. Come, come away, man; I was fent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'ft. Pan. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. SCENE [Exeunt IV. MILA N. An apartment in the duke's palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil. Servant, Val. Miftrefs? Speed. Mafter, fir Thurio frowns on you. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knock'd him. Sil. Servant, you are fad. Val. Indeed, madam, I feem fo. Val. Haply, I do. Thu. So do counterfeits. Lofe the tide, -] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read-the flood. STEEVENS. —and the tide?] I fhould fuppofe these three words to be repeated through fome error of the printer. STEEVENS. Thu. What inftance of the contrary? Thu. And how quote3 you my folly ? Val. I quote it in your jerkin. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, fir Thurio? do you change colour ? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have faid, fir. Thu. Ay, fir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, fir; you always end ere you begin, Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly fhot off. Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, fervant? Val. Yourself, fweet lady; for you gave the fire: fir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyfhip's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company, Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, Į fhall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, fir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father. ? ३ how quote you my folly?] To quote is to obferve, So in Hamlet: "I am forry that with better heed and judgment Enter Enter the Duke. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard befet, Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news? Val My lord, I will be thankful To any happy meffenger from thence, Duke. Know you Don Anthonio, your country. man? Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy eftimation, 4 And not without defert fo well reputed, Duke. Hath he not a fon? Val. Ay, my good lord; a fon, that well deferves The honour and regard of fuch a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him, as myfelf; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and fpent our hours together; And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the fweet benefit of time, To cloath mine age with angel-like perfection; Duke. Befhrew me, fir, but, if he make this good, He is as worthy for an emprefs' love, As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. -not without defert-] And not dignified with so much reputation without proportionate merit. JOHNSON, And And here he means to spend his time a-while : Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Sil. Belike, that now fhe hath enfranchis'd them Upon fome other pawn for fealty. Val. Nay, fure, I think, the holds them prisoners ftill. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he fee his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They fay, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To fee fuch lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink. Enter Protheus, Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. Val, Welcome, dear. Protheus !-Mistress, I be. feech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a fervant. |