PANTINO. Lance, 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. LANCE. It is no matter if the tied were lost, for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. PANTINO. What’s the unkindest tide? LANCE. Why, he that’s tied here, Crab, my dog. PANTINO. 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? LANCE. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. PANTINO. Where should I lose my tongue? LANCE. In thy tale. PANTINO. In thy tail! LANCE. 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. PANTINO. Come, come away, man. I was sent to call thee. LANCE. Sir, call me what thou dar’st. PANTINO. Will thou go? LANCE. Well, I will go. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Milan. A room in the Duke’s palace Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio and Speed. SILVIA. Servant! VALENTINE. Mistress? SPEED. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. VALENTINE. Ay, boy, it’s for love. SPEED. Not of you. VALENTINE. Of my mistress, then. SPEED. ’Twere good you knocked him. SILVIA. Servant, you are sad. VALENTINE. Indeed, madam, I seem so. THURIO. Seem you that you are not? VALENTINE. Haply I do. THURIO. So do counterfeits. VALENTINE. So do you. THURIO. What seem I that I am not? VALENTINE. Wise. THURIO. What instance of the contrary? VALENTINE. Your folly. THURIO. And how quote you my folly? VALENTINE. I quote it in your jerkin. THURIO. My jerkin is a doublet. VALENTINE. Well, then, I’ll double your folly. THURIO. How! SILVIA. What, angry, Sir Thurio? Do you change colour? VALENTINE. Give him leave, madam, he is a kind of chameleon. THURIO. That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live in your air. VALENTINE. You have said, sir. THURIO. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. VALENTINE. I know it well, sir. You always end ere you begin. SILVIA. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. VALENTINE. ’Tis indeed, madam, we thank the giver. SILVIA. Who is that, servant? VALENTINE. Yourself, sweet 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. THURIO. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. VALENTINE. 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. SILVIA. No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes my father. Enter Duke.