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SUMMARY
The Servant Launce, with dog in tow,
complains of the creature's insensitivity.
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
my tears.