Verona. A street
Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog
LAUNCE. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all
the
kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have receiv'd my
proportion, like the Prodigious Son, and am going with Sir
Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab my dog be the
sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father
wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, 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, 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, she is as white as a lily 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- O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so,
so.
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. O that she could
speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss 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 sheds not
a
tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my
tears.
Enter PANTHINO
PANTHINO. Launce, away, away, aboard! Thy master is shipp'd,
and
thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? Why
weep'st
thou, man? Away, ass! You'll lose the tide if you tarry any
longer.
LAUNCE. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the
unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
PANTHINO. What's the unkindest tide?
LAUNCE. Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog.
PANTHINO. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in
losing
the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage, lose
thy
master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service, and, in
losing thy service- Why dost thou stop my mouth?
LAUNCE. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
PANTHINO. Where should I lose my tongue?
LAUNCE. In thy tale.
PANTHINO. In thy tail!
LAUNCE. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the
service, and the tied! 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.
PANTHINO. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
LAUNCE. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.
PANTHINO. Will thou go?
LAUNCE. Well, I will go. Exeunt