SCENE III. A street in Milan.

      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, sit, 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--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: 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 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 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 darest.

PANTHINO
      Wilt thou go?

LAUNCE
      Well, I will go.

      Exeunt