E. Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the door. S. Dro. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore.

E. Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not din'd to-day.

S. Dro. Nor to-day here you must not: come again, when you may.

E. Ant. What art thou, that keep'ft me out from the houfe I owe?

S. Dro. The porter, for this time, Sir, and my name is Dromio.

E. Dro. O villain, thou haft ftoll'n both mine office and my name :

The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou hadft been Dromio to-day in my place,

Thou would't have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an afs.

Luce. within. What a coile is there, Dromio? who are thofé at the gate?'

E. Dro. Let my mafter in, Luce.

Luce. Faith, no; he comes too late;

And fo tell your master.

E. Dro. O lord, I muft laugh;

Have at you with a Proverb.-Shall I fet in my ftaff? Luce. Have at you with another; that's, when, can you tell?

S. Dro. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou haft anfwer'd him well.

E. Ant. Do you hear, you minion, you'll let us in, I trow ?

Luce. I thought to have afkt you.

S. Dro. And you faid, no.

E. Dro. So, come, help, well ftruck; there was blow for blow.

E. Ant. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whofe fake?
E. Dro. Mafter, knock the door hard.
Luce. Let him knock, 'till it ake.

E. Ant.

E. Ant. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.

Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town?

Adr. within. Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noife?

S. Dro. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys.

E, Ant. Are you there, wife? you might have come before.

Adr. Your wife, Sir knave! go, get you from the door.

E. Dro. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go fore,

Ang. Here is neither cheer, Sir, nor welcome; we would fain have either..

Bal. In debating which was, best, we shall part with neither.

E. Dro. They ftand at the door, masten; bid them welcome hither.

E. Ant. There's fomething in the wind, that we cannot get in.

E. Dro. You would fay fo, mafter, if your garments were thin.

Your cake here is warm within: you, stand here in the cold:

It would make, a man mad, as, a, buck to be so bought and fold.

E. Ant. Go fetch me fomething, I'll break ope the gate. S. Dro. Break any thing here, and I'll break your knave's pate.

E. Dro. A man. may break a word with you, Sir, and words are but wind;

Ay, and break it in your face, fo he break it not behind. S. Dro. It feems, thou wanteft breaking; out upon thee, hind!

E. Dro. Here's too much, out, upon thee! I pray thee, let me in.

S. Dro. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish

have no fin.

E. Ant.

E. Ant. Well, I'll break in; go borrow me a crow,
E. Dro. A crow without feather, master, mean you for
For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather:
If a crow help us in, firrah, we'll pluck a crow together,
E. Ant. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow.
Bal. Have patience, Sir: oh, let it not be fo.
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compafs of fufpect
Th' unviolated honour of your wife.

Once, this;- your long experience of her wifdom,
Her fober virtue, years, and modesty,

Plead on her part fome caufe to you unknown;
And doubt not, Sir, but fhe will well excufe,
Why at this time the doors are barr'd against you.
Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,
And let us to the Tyger all to dinner;
And about evening come yourself alone,
To know the reason of this ftrange restraint.
If by ftrong hand you offer to break in,
Now in the stirring paffage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that fuppofed by the common rout,
Against your yet ungalled eftimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead:
For flander lives upon fucceffion;

For ever hous'd, where it once gets poffeffion.

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103

E. Ant. You have prevail'd; I will depart in quiet, a And, in defpight of wrath, (11) mean to be merry." I know a wench of excellent difcourfe,

I know wild, and, yet too, gentle;

Pretty and

There will we dine: this woman that I mean,
My wife (but, I proteft, without defert,)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal;

(11) And, in defpight of Mirth,] In defpight of what Mirth? We don't find, that it was any joke, or matter of mirth, to be fhut out of doors by his wife. I make no doubt therefore, but I have reftor'd the true reading. Antipbolis's paffion is plain enough all thro' this fcene: and, in the next act, we find him confeiling how angry he was at this juncture. And did not I in rage depart from thence? The circumftances, I think, fufficiently justify my emendation.

To her will we to dinner. Get you home,
And fetch the chain; by this, I know, 'tis made;
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine;

1

TA

For there's the house: that chain will I beftow,
(Be it for nothing but to fpight my wife,)
Upon mine hoftefs there. Good Sir, make hafte:
Since my own doors refufe to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to fee if they'll difdain me.
Ang. I'll meet you at that place, fome hour, Sir, hence.
E. Ant. Do fo; this jeft fhall coft me fome expence.
[Exeunt.
SCENE, the Houfe of Antipholis of Ephefus.
Enter Luciana, with Antipholis of Syracufe.

Luc.

A ND may it be, that you have quite forgot (12) A hufband's office? Shall, Antipholis, hate, Ev'n in the fpring of love, thy love-fprings rot? Shall love, in building, grow fo ruinate?

If

you did wed my fifter for her wealth,

Then for her wealth's fake ufe her with more kindnefs; Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;

Muffle your false love with fome fhew of blindness; Let not my fifter read it in your eye;

Be not thy tongue thy own fhame's orator;
Look fweet, fpeak fair; become disloyalty:
Apparel vice, like virtue's harbinger;
Bear a fair prefence, tho' your heart be tainted:
Teach fin the carriage of a holy faint;
Be fecret-falfe: what need the be acquainted?
What fimple thief brags of his own attaint?
'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,

And let her read it in thy looks at board:
Shame hath a baftard-fame, well managed;
Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word:

(12) And may it be, that you have quite forgot
An bufband's office? Shall, Antipholis,

Ev'n in the fpring of love, thy love-fprings rot?
Shall love in buildings grow fo ruinate

Alas!

This paffage has

hitherto labour'd' under a double corruption. What conceit could our

editors.

Alafs poor women, make us but believe, (13)
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Tho' others have the arm, fhew us the fleeve:
We in your motion turn, and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

Comfort my fifter, cheer her, call her wife; 'Tis holy fport to be a little vain,

When the fweet breath of flattery conquers ftrife. S. Ant. Sweet miftrefs, (what your name is elfe, I know Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:) [not; Lefs in your knowledge and your grace you fhow not Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy grofs conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, fhallow, weak,

The foulded meaning of your words deceit ; Againft my foul's pure truth why labour you, To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a God? would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your pow'r I'll yield.. But if that I am I, then, well I know,

Your weeping fifter is no wife of mine;

Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;

Far more, far more, to you do I decline:

editors have of love in buildings growing ruinate? Surely, they did not dream of love made under an old wall? Our Poet meant no more than this. Shall thy love-springs rot, even in the spring of love? and fhall thy love grow ruinous, ev'n while 'tis but building up? The next corruption is by an accident at prefs, as I take it; this fcene for 52 Jines fucceffively is ftrictly in alternate rhymes: and this measure is never broken, but in the fecond, and fourth, lines of these two couplets. 'Tis certain, I think, a monofyllable dropt from the tail of the 2d verfe, and I have ventur'd to fupply it by, I hope, a probable conjecture.

(13) Alas! poor Women, make us not believe, &c.] From the whole tenour of the context it is evident, that this negative (not,) got place in the first copies inftead of but. And these two monofyllables have by mistake reciprocally difpoffefs'd one another in many other paffages. of our Author's works. Nothing can be more plain than the Poet's fenfe in this paffage. Women, fays be, are fo ealy of faith, that only make them believe you love them, and they'll take the bare profeffion, for the substance and reality.

Oh,