Scene III.The Same. 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 received 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, hav-
ing 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, 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 my-
self: ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; 'Fa-
ther, 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
Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy mas-
ter is shipped, and thou art to post after with
oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou,
man? Away, ass! you'll lose the tide if you tarry
Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost;
for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
Pant. What's the unkindest tide?
Launce. Why, he that's tied here. Crab, my
Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'rt 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
Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue?
Launce. In thy tale.
Pant. 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.
Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to
Launce. Sir, call me what thou darest.
Pant. Wilt thou go?
Launce. Well, I will go. [Exeunt.