SCENE II. A Street. Enter ANTIPHOLIS OF SYRACUSE, DROVIO OF SYRACUSE, and First MERCHANT. 1 Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidam num, Lest that your goods be forfeit to the state. This very day, a Syracusan merchant Is apprehended for arrival here; And, not being able to buy out his life, Dies ere the weary sun sets in the west. There is your money, which I had to keep. Ant. of Syr. Go, bear it to the Centaur, where we host, And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time; Till then I'll view the manners of the town, Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, And then return, and sleep within mine inn; For, with long travel, I am sick and weary. Get thee away! Dro. of Syr. Many a man would take you at your word, And go away, indeed, having so great A treasure in his charge. Of what strength do You conceive my honesty, good master, That you dare put it to such temptation? Ant. of Syr. Of proof against a greater charge than this: Were it remiss, thy love would strengthen it: such Ant. of Syr. That very doubt is my security.--- saying Ant. of Syr. Then thou hast no occasion to tell it me.-- Begone, I say.- [Exit Dromio Or SYRACUSE. 1 Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, here the mart, myself, Ani? ander up and down to view the city. 1 Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit. Ant. of Syr. He, that commends me to my own content, go So I, to find a mother, and a brother, Enter DROMIO OF EPH ESUS. How now! How chance thou art return'd so soon? Dro. of Eph. Return'd so soon ! Rather approach'd too late The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell, My mistress made it one upon my cheek ;She is so hot, because the meat is cold, The meat is cold, because you come not home, You come not home, because you have no stomach, You have no stomach, having broke your fast; But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, Are penitent for your default to-day. Ant. of Syr. Stop in your wind, sir;~tell me this, I pray, Where have you left the money, that I gave you? Dro. of Eph. Money !- Oh, the money that I had on Wednesday last, to pay for mending my Ant. of Syr. I am not in a sportive humour now; dinnerI, from my mistress, come to you in haste. Methinks your stomach, like mine, should be your clock, And send you home without a messenger. Ant. of Syr. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season; Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. Dro. of Eph. To me, sir !-why, you gave no gold to me! Ant. of Syr. Come, come, have done your foolish ness, And tell me how thou hast dispos'd my charge. Dro. of Eph. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart, Home to your house, the Phænix, sir, to dinner; My mistress and her sister stay for you. Ant. of Syr. Now, as I am a christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undispos’d. Where are the thousand marks thou had'st of me? Dro. of Eph. I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders; Between you both, they make, perhaps, a thousand : If I should pay your worship these again, Perchance you will not take it patiently. Ant. of Syr. Thy mistress' marks!--What mistress, slave, hast ihou ? Dro. of Eph. Your worship’s wife, my mistress, at the Phænix, She, that doth fast till you come home to dinner. And prays that you will haste you. Ant. of Syr. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto Being forbid ?-There, take you that, sir knave! Dro. of Eph. What mean you, sir —for Heaven's sake, hold your handsNay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit. Ant. of Syr. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain has been trick'd of all my money, my face, They say, this town is full of cozenage ; the sooner. [Exit. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I, A Chamber in AntỊPHOLIS OF EPHESUS's House. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd, That, in such haste, I sent to seek his master? Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. Luc. Perhaps some merchant has invited him, And, from the mart, he's somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine, and never fret; A man is master of his liberty, Will come, or go-therefore, be patient, sister. Adr. Why should their liberty be more than ours ? Luc. Because their bus'ness still lies out of door. Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill. Luc. He is the bridle of your actions, sister. |