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–

[Lance puts up his hand]

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 Wilt thou go?

LANCE                        Well, I will go.

Exeunt             (2.3.32-46)

Tut, man, come on, mate, this is serious: I mean thou’lt lose the flood, the most advantageous point of the tide, and in losing the flood, lose thy voyage—you’ll mess up the whole thing, your departure and so the entire trip—and in losing thy voyage, lose thy master—he’ll go on ahead without you; he’ll be lost without you, and also, he’ll sack you—and in losing thy master, lose thy service—if he sacks you, you’ll have lost your position in his household—and in losing thy service—well, you’ll lose everything, your job, your livelihood, your home… Why dost thou stop my mouth?Why are you telling me to shut up? I’m telling you the truth! I’m telling you to shut your mouth for fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue, going on and on. What? Where should I lose my tongue? (Ah, it’s mostly to set up the next—moderately obscene—joke): in thy tale, that’s where you’ll lose your tongue. In thy tail? In your arse?! Pantino is understandably frustrated and offended. But Lance—like Crab—is unmoved. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied? (The ear, again, will not differentiate tide and tied and hearing tide twice isn’t illogical; how do you lose the actual sea?) Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears. I don’t need to wait for the tide to be propitious! And if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. I don’t need the wind to be favourable, the state I’m in, weeping and groaning.

Perhaps in fear of his starting up again, Pantino doesn’t engage, but simply repeats himself in what should be unarguable, unquibbleable terms: come, come away, man. I was sent to call thee. Come ON. You’ve got to go with me right now. A last, fairly half-hearted attempt from Lance: well, if you’ve been sent to call me, sir, call me what thou dar’st. Have a go if you’re hard enough. Wilt thou go? Please? Please? Well, I will go, says Lance. And he’ll get a laugh, on the speed of his capitulation and the simplicity of his concession, as he unties Crab the dog—potential for comedy if Crab is straining at the leash to go with Pantino, to get on that mysterious ship to Milan!—and off they go. Lance and Crab, Crab and Lance, off to see the world…