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 filter; for, look you, fhe is as white. as a lily, and as fmall 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 am. myself; ay, fo, fo; now come I to my father; father, your blefling; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now thould I kiss 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 kiss her; why, there 'tis; here's

(9) Like an ould woman!] These mere poetical editors can do nothing towards an emendation, even when 'tis chalked out to their hands. The first Folios agree in would-woman for which, because it was a mystery to Mr Pope, he has unmeaningly substituted ould woman. But it must be writ, or at leaft understood, wood woman, i. crazy, frantic with grief, or distracted from any other cause The word is very frequently used in Chaucer, and fometimes writ wood, fometimes wode.

e

What should he study, or make himself wood? In his character of the Monk,

They told ev'ry man that he was wode,

He was aghafte so of Noe's flode.

In his Miller's Tale. And he likewife 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 defigned corruption, to make Launce purposely blunder in the word; as he a little before very humoroufly calls the prodigalson, the prodigious son. 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.

I had like to have forgot, that word is a term likewise used by our own l'oet. Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 2. And here am I, and wood within this wood. Which Mr Pope has there rightly expounded, by mad, wild, raving

And again, Shakespeare. in one of his poems, has this line: Then to the woods stark wood in rage the hies her.

my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my fister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while fheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but fee how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter PANTHION.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy mater is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest 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 unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and in lofing the flood, lose thy voyage; and in lofing thy voyage, lose thy master; and in lofing thy master, lose thy service; and in lofing thy fer vice, why doft thou stop my mouth?

Laun. For fear thou should'it lose thy tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue?
Laun. In thy tale.

Pant. In thy tail?

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 fent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.

Pant. Wilt thou go?

Laun. Well, I will go.

[Excunt.

1

SCENE changes to Milan.

An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.

Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO and SPEED.

Sil. Servant,...

Val. Mistress?

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.

Speed. Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress then.

Speed. Twere good you knocked him.

Sil. Servant, you are fad.

Val. Indeed, Madam, I seem so.

Thu. Seem you that you are not?

Val. Haply I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What feem 1, that I am 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?

Sil. What, angry, Sir 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, Sir.

Thu. Ay, Sir, and done too, for this time.

Val. I know it well, Sir; you always end ere

you begin.

Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.

Val. 'Tis, indeed, Madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant?

Val. Yourself, fweet 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, I shall 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 my father.

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 messenger from thence.

[man? Duke. Know you Don Anthonio, your countryVal. Ay, my good Lord, I know the gentleman

To be of worth and worthy estimation;
And, not without defert, so well reputed.
Duke. Hath he not a fon?

Val. Ay, my good Lord, a fon that well deserves

The honour and regard of fuch a father.
Duke. You know him well?

Val. I know him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd, 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 ufe and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praifes that I now bestow,).
He is compleat in feature and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke. Befhrew 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 come 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 wished a thing, it had been he. Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth: Silvia, I fpeak to you; and you, Sir Thurio; For Valentine, I need not cite him to it: I'll fend him hither to you presently. (Exit Duke.

Val. This is the gentleman I told your Ladyship Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

Sil. Belike that now the hath enfranchised them Upon fome other pawn for fealty.

Vai. Nay, fure, I think the holds them pris'ners ftill.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,

How could he see his way to feek 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.