Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows. Speed. Oh! 'give ye good ev'n; here's a million of manners. Sil. Sir Valentine and fervant, to you two thoufand. Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, Sil. I thank you, gentle fervant; 'tis very clerkly done. I writ at random, very doubtfully. Sil. Perchance, you think too much of fo much pains? Val. No, madam, fo it fteed you, I will write, Please you command, a thoufand times as much. And yet Sil. A pretty period; well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it, and yet I care not; And yet take this again, and yet I thank you ; Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. L Speed. And yet you will; and yet, another yet. [Afide. Val. What means your Ladyfhip? do you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes, the lines are very quaintly writ; But fince unwillingly take them again; Nay, take them. Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, Sir, at my request; But I will none of them; they are for you: I would have had them writ more movingly. Val. Please you, I'll write your Ladyship another. And if it please you, fo; if not, why fo. Speed. O jeft unfeen, infcrutable, invisible, [Exit. As a nofe on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple ! My mafter fues to her, and the hath taught her fuitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor: O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? write the letter? Val. How now, Sir? what are you reafoning with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reafon. Speed. To be a spokes-man from madam Silvia. Speed. To yourself; why she wooes you by a figure. Speed. By a letter, I fhould fay. Val. Why, the hath not writ to me? Speed. What need fhe, When the hath made you write to yourself: Why, do you not perceive the jeft? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you, indeed, Sir: but did perceive her earnest? Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. you Speed. And that letter hath fhe 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 the in modefty, "Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; "Or fearing elfe fome meffenger, that might her mind "discover, "Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto "her lover." All this I fpeak 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 SCENE changes to Julia's House at Verona. Enter Protheus and Julia. Pro. H Julia. I muft, where is no remedy. ITAVE patience, gentle Julia. Pro. When poffibly I can, I will return. [Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. ful. And feal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true conftancy; And when that hour o'erflips me in the day, Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake; The next enfuing hour fome foul mifchance 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, fo true love fhould do; it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. Enter Panthion. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are ftay'd for. Pro. Go; I come. Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. SCENE changes to a Street. Enter Launce, with his dog Crab. [Exeunt. Laun. 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 fon, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the fowreft-natur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my fifter crying, our maid howl 3 ling, ding, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur fhed one tear! he is a ftone, a very pebble-ftone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a few would have wept, to have feen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll fhew you the manner of it: this fhoe is my father; no, this left fhoe is my father; no, no, this left fhoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither; yes, it is fo, it is fo; it hath the worfer fole; this fhoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't, there 'tis: now, Sir, this staff is my fifter; for, look you, fhe is as white as a lilly, and as fmall as a wand; this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is himfelf, and I am the dog: oh, the dog is me, and I am myfelf; ay, fo, fo; now come I to my father; father, your bleffing; now fhould not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kifs 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 kifs her (9) Like an ould woman!] Thefe mere poetical Editors can do nothing towards an emendation, even when 'tis chalk'd out to their hands. The firft folios agree in would woman; for which, because it was a mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly substituted ouk! woman. But it must be writ, or at leaft understood, wood woman, i. e. crazy, frantick with grief; or, diftracted, from any other cause. The word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and fometimes writ, wood; fometimes, wode. What fhould he ftudy, or make himself wood? In his character of the Monk. They told ev'ry man that he was wode, He was aghafte fo of Noe's flode. In his Miller's Tale. And he likewise uses wodeness, for madness. Vide Spelman's Saxon Gloffary in the word wod. As to the reading in the old editions, would-woman, perhaps, this may be a defign'd corruption, to make Launce purposely blunder in the word; as he a little before very humorously calls the prodigal fon, the prodigious fon. I ought to take notice, that my ingenious friend Mr. Warburton fent me up this fame emendation, unknowing that I had already corrected the place. VOL. I. I I 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 sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but fee, how I lay the duft with my tears. Enter Panthion. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy mafter is fhipp'd, and thou art to poft after with oars: what's the matter? why weep't thou, man? away, ass, you will lofe 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. Pant. What's the unkindeft tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou't 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't lose thy tongue. Laun. In thy tale. Pant. In thy tail? Laun. Lofe the flood, and the voyage, and the mafter, and the fervice, 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. Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'ft. Pant. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. I had like to have forgot, that weed is a term likewise used by our own Poet. Midfummer-Night's Dream, A&t. 2. And here am I, and wood within this wond. Which Mr. Pope has there rightly expounded, by mad, wild, rating, And again, Shakespeare, in one of his poems, has this line; Then to the woods stark wood in rage the hies her. SCENE |