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Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows.
Sil. Sir Valentine and servant", to you two thousand.
Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter
[Giving a paper. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant. 'Tis very clerkly
Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains ?
Val. No, madam: so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much.
And yet, —
Sil. A pretty period. Well, I guess the sequel :
Speed. And yet you will; and yet, another yet?.
Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very quaintly writ,
[Giving back the paper. Val. Madam, they are for you.
is here, of course, the proper word; but in the Rev. Mr. Dyce's edition of Marlowe's “ Faustus (Vol. ii. p. 57), “motion” in one place is any thing but the proper word, for there it ought to be mention. The Emperor wishes to see the spirit of Alexander the Great raised by the necromancer, and ought to say,
“ As when I hear but mention made of him,
It grieves my soul I never saw the man." What he is made to say is very equivocal, for “motion” is allowed to remain in the text instead of mention ; and though “to make a motion may be very intelligible, it is not exactly what the Emperor bere means.
1 Sir Valentine and SERVANT,] Ladies were accustomed, in Shakespeare's time, to call their admirers their servants : instances are innumerable.
and yet, another yet.] So the passage is punctuated in the old copies, as if Speed had said, “and yet," and then paused to see if Silvia would not add “another yet.” We only mention this trifle because some modern editors have not attended to it. Of course these speeches by Speed are supposed to be uttered aside, and they are so marked in the corr. fo. 1632. the other stage-directions here, which are certainly necessary for the complete intelligibility of what passes, are from the same authority.
Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request,
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over; And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Val. If it please me, madam ; what then?
Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour : And so good morrow, servant.
[Exit. Speed. Oh jest ! unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. Oh excellent device! was there ever heard a better, That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the
letter? Val. How now, sir! what, are you reasoning with yourself?
Speed. Nay, I was rhyming : 'tis you that have the reason.
Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest ?
Val. No, believe me.
Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir: but did you perceive her earnest ?
Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. And that letter hath, she deliver'd, and there an end.
Val. I would it were no worse !
I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:
Val. I have dined.
Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though 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
Oh! be not like your mistress : be moved, be moved.
Verona. A Room in JULIA's House.
Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.
Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner.
[Exchanging rings. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance 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, farewell.--What! gone without a word ? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace
Pant. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
Go; I come,
I Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. Exeunt.
3 All this I speak in print,] i. e. With exactness : Speed adds, that he found it “ in print,” perhaps, in some book or ballad of that time, which has not survived to our's. He has rhymed before, and in the same style, just after Silvia made ber exit : those lines could hardly have been, like these, a quotation.
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 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, 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 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 dogo;—no, the
all the kind of the Launces have this very fault.] i. e. All the family, or kindred of the Launces. How strangely editors have been puzzled with this little word, “ kind," in Marlowe and Nash's “ Dido," 1594. A. v. The heroine there accuses her Nurse of having conspired with the Trojans for the escape of Ascanius, and calls her, as the text appears in the old impressions,
“ Traitress to keend and cursed sorceress!” What can keend be, but a misprint for “kind ?” the Nurse was a traitress to her kind, or sex, in the opinion of Dido; but the Rev. Mr. Dyce (Marlowe's Works, ii. p. 435) has simply this note upon it: “I suppose kenned, known, manifest (the modern editors print keen ').” “ Keen' was a much better conjecture than kenned: but neither“ keen” nor the unfortunate kenned can be right, for who will doubt that the true reading is,
“ Traitress to kind, and cursed sorceress?". 5 I am the dog, &c.] Launce is bimself puzzled with the characters of his own mono-polylogue; and perhaps Shakespeare did not mean him to get out of his confusion. Sir T. Hanmer proposed to read, I am the dog, no, the dog is himself, and I am me, the dog is the dog, and I am myself. Although this reading makes the text “more reasonable," (as Johnson remarks) the additions to it are unwarrantable.
dog is himself, and I am the dog, -Oh! 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, (Oh, 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.
Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard : thy master is shipped, 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.
Pant. What's the unkindest tide ?
Pant. 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.
Launce. Lose the tied, 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 sighs. .
like a wood woman:] The folio, 1623, prints it thus,—" like a wouldwoman,” with a hyphen, and the old corrector of the folio, 1632, alters would to wild; but the proper emendation seems to be “wood” for would, —"wood" signifying wild, frantic, mad, and so we print the text, “ would-woman” having been preserved through all the four folios. It deserves remark that “she is allowed to remain in the previous parenthesis (it is not a parenthesis in the early impressions), and not changed to shoe, as Blackstone proposed : if any alteration were adopted, it ought to be “Oh, that the shoe could speak!”
- and the ride.] The first “ tied” refers to the dog, and the last to the river, as we see from what follows,-“ Why man, if the river were dry," &c. The joke which has occupied Launce and Panthino is, perhaps, more evident in the old copy, where the “ tide" of the river, and the “tied ” dog are spelt in the same