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[Enter] Panthino.

Pan. Launce, away, away! aboard! Thy master is shipp’d, 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.

Pan. What’s the unkindest tide?

Launce. Why, he that’s tied here, Crab, my dog.

Pan. 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.

Pan. Where should I lose my tongue?

Launce. In thy tale.

Pan. 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.

Pan. Come; come away, man—I was sent to call thee.