Act II, Scene 3

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 595
  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 600
  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 605
  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 610
  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 615
  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 620
  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. 625

[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. 630

• 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 635
  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. 640

• 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 645
  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? 650

• Launce. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt]