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ling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity ; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur thed one tear! he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog : a. Jer would käve 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 hoe is my father ; no, this left shoe is my father ; no, no, this left hoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be fo neither; yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser föle ; this shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on', there'ois : now, Sir, this itaff is my fister; for, look you, me 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 ani myself; ay, fo, so; now come I to my father ; father, your blelling; now should not the Thoe speak a word
now hould I kiss my father ; well, he weeps on; now come I to my mother; oh that the could speak now (9) like a wood woman! well, I kiss
(9) Like an ould woman!] These mere poetical Editors can ca nything towards an emendation, even when 'tis chalk'd out to the r hands. The first folio's agree in wuld-woman; for which, because it was a mystery to Mr. Poje, be has unmeaningly substituted old
But it must be writ, or at least understood, wood woman, 1.e. crazy, frantick with grief; or, distracted, from any other cavie.
The word is very frequently vied in Chaucer'; and sometimes wuit, mood; sometimes, wode.
What should he study; or make himself tooed? In his character of the Monk,
They told ev'r; man that he was woude,
He was aghafte lo of Noi's flode. In his Miller's Tale.
And he likewise uses wideniss, for madness. Vide Spelman's Saxor Glosary in the word wod. As to the reading in the old editions, would-woman, perhaps, this may be a defiend corruption, to make Larınce purposely blunder in the word ; as he a little before very humorcusly calls the prodigal fon, the prodigious fon.--I ought to take notice, that my ingenious friend Mr. War. burton sent me up this fame emendation, unko.civing that I had already corrected the place. Vol. I 1
her ; why, there 'tis ? here's my mother's breath up and down : now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes : 'now the dog all this while fheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see, how I lay the dust with my tears.
Erler Panthion. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is mipp’d, and thou art to post after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'it 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 unkindelt ty'd that ever any man ty’d.
Pant. What's the unkindest tide?"
Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou't lose the food, and in losing the flood, lose thy voyage ; and in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and in lofing thy master, lofe thy service; and in losing thy service, why dot thou stop my mouth ?
Laun. For fear thou hould'It lose thy tongue.
Laun, Lose the flood, and the voyage, and the 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 fighs.
Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
go! Laun. Well, I will go.
I had like to have forgnt, that wood is a term likewise used by our own Poet. Midsummer. Night's Dream, Act 2.
And here am l, and wood within this wood. Which Mr. Pope has there rightly expounded, by mad, wild, raving. And again, Sbakespeare, in one of his poems, has this line :
Then co the words stark wood in rage the hies her.
you are not?
Val. So do you.
SCE NE changes to Milan,
An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil.
that Val. Haply, I do. Tbu. So do counterfeits. Thu. What seem I, that Tam not? Val. Wife. 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? Šil. What angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour ? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of Gemeleon.
Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air.
Val. You have said, Sir.
. A fine volley of words, genilemen, and quickly
l'al. Yourself, sweet Lady, for you gave the fire : Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladyship's looks, and spends, what he borrows, kindly in your company,
Thu, Sir, if you spend word for word with me, 1 Hall make your wit bankrupt.
Val. I know it well, Sir ; 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
Enter the Duke. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. 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 messenger from thence.
Duke. Know you Don Anthonio, your countryman ?
Vali Ay, my good Lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation ; And, not without desert, so well reputed.
Duke Hath ke not a son ?
Val. Ay, my good Lord, a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well?
Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy We have converst, and spent our hours together : And tho' myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time, To cloathe mine age with angel-like perfection; Yet hath Sir Protheus, for that's his name, Made use and fair advantage of his days; His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; And, in a word, (for far behind his worth Come all the praises, that I now bestow ;) He is compleat in feature and in mind, With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
Duke. Beshrew me, Sir, but if he makes this good, He is as worthy for an Empress' love, As meet to be an Emperor's counsellor : Well
, Sir, this gentleman is comie to me, With commendations from great potentates; And here he means to spend his time a while. I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you,
Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.
Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth :
Sil. Belike, that now the hath'enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty.
Val. Nay, sure, I think, the holds the in pris'ners ftill. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blindy How could he see his way to seek out you?
Val. Why, Lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Tbu. They fay, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To fée such 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 beleech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he, you oft have wish'd to hear from.
Val. Mistress, it is: Sweet Lady, entertain him To be my fellow-fervant to your Ladyship.
Sil. Too low a mistress for so high'a servant.
Val. Leave off discourse of disability :