When a man’s servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him even as one would say precisely, “Thus I would teach a dog.” I was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he steps me to her trencher and steals her capon’s leg. O, ’tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hanged for’t; sure as I live, he had suffered for’t. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like dogs under the Duke’s table; he had not been there—bless the mark!—a pissing-while but all the chamber smelt him. “Out with the dog!” says one; “What cur is that?” says another; “Whip him out”, says the third; “Hang him up”, says the Duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs. “Friend,” quoth I, “you mean to whip the dog?” “Ay, marry do I,” quoth he. “You do him the more wrong,” quoth I. “’Twas I did the thing you wot of.” He makes me no more ado but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, I’ll be sworn I have sat in the stock for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed. I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for’t. [To Crab.] Thou think’st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia. Did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave up my leg and make water against a gentlewoman’s farthingale? Didst thou ever see me do such a trick?

In what you please; I’ll do what I can.

Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.

And what says she to my little jewel?

Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

But she received my dog?

No, indeed, did she not. Here have I brought him back again.

What, didst thou offer her this from me?

Ay, sir, the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman’s boys in the market-place, and then I offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.

Not so; I think she lives.

Alas!

Why dost thou cry “Alas”?

Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

What would you with her, if that I be she?

From whom?

From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.

O, he sends you for a picture?

Ay, madam.

Ursula, bring my picture there.

Madam, please you peruse this letter.

I pray thee, let me look on that again.

It may not be. Good madam, pardon me.

Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.

She thanks you.

What sayst thou?

Dost thou know her?

Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her?

I think she doth, and that’s her cause of sorrow.

Is she not passing fair?

How tall was she?

And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you know her.