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Adr. None, but an idiot, would be bridled so?

Luc Why, headstrong liberty belongs to man,
And ill befits a woman's gentle mind.
There's nothing situate under Heaven's eye,
But hath its bound in earth, in sea, and air;
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged tribes,
Are their males' subjects, and at their control.
Man, more divine, the master of them all,
Indued with intellectual sense and soul,
Is master to his female-nay, her lord !
Let, then, your will attend on his commands:

Adr. This servitude makes you remain unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage state.
Adr. But were you wedded, you would bear some

rule, Luc. Before I wed, I'll practise to obey. Adr. How, if your husband start some other where?

Luc. With all the gentle, artificial means, That patient meekness, and domestic cares, Could bring to my relief, I would beguile The intervening hours, till he, tir'd out, With empty, transient pleasures, should return To seek content and happiness at homeWith smiles I'd welcome him, and put in practice Each soothing art, that kindness could suggest, To wean his mind from such delusive joys. Adr, O, special reasoning! well may they be pa

tient, Who never had a cause for anger given them! How easily we cure another's grief! But, were we burden'd with like weight of woe, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain. So thuu, who hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, Wouldst comfort mé, by urging helpless patience; But she uldst thou live to see these griefs thine own, This boasted patience would be thrown aside,

Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to tryHere comes your man; now is your

husband near,

Enter DROMIO OF Ephesus.
Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand ?

Dro. of Eph. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him ? know'st thou his mind? Dro. of Eph. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon my

ear; Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it!

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not find his meaning ?

Dro. of Eph. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.

Adr. But say, I pray thee, is he coming home? It seems, he hath great care to please his wife!

Dro. of Eph. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad!

Luc. Horn-mad, thou villain!
Dro. of Eph. I mean not cuckold-mad, but sure

he's stark-mad! When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold. 'Tis dinner time, quoth I-my gold, quoth hem Your meat doth burn, quoth 1-my gold, quoth he Where are the thousand marks I

gave thee, villain ? The pig, quoth I, is burn'd-my gold, quoth he My mistress, sir, quoth I-hang up thy mistress! I do not know thy mistress-out on thy mistress !

Luc. Quoth who?

Dro. of Eph. Quoih my masterI know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress ; So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my

shoulders For, in conclusion, he did beat 'me hither.

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with me,

Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him

Dro. of Eph. Go back again, and be new beaten

For Heav'ns sake, send some other messenger.
Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master

home. Dro. of Eph. Am I so round with you, as you That, like a foot-ball, you


spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither.
If I last in this service, you must case mé in leather.

Luc. Fie! how impatience lowereth on your brow!
Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
While I, at home, starve for a cheerful look.
Hath homely age th'alluring beauty stole
From my poor cheek? no, he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses low i barren my wit ?
If voluble and sharp discourse be dulld,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?'
That's not my fault-he's master of fortunes.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd ?-Then is he the cause
of my defeatures--my decayed beauty,

look of his would soon repair:
But, too unruly deer! he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home--poor I am left despis'd.

Luc. Self-barming jealousy! fie! beat it hence.

Adr. I know his eye doth homage other-where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a bracelet-
Some stranger fair hath caught his truant eye,
And triumphs in the gifts design'd for me.
Such trifles yet with ease I could forego,
So I were sure he left his heart at home!


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I see the jewel best enameled
Will lose its lustre-So doth Adriana,
Whom once, unwearied with continual gazing,
He fondly call’d the treasure of his life!
Now, since my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and, weeping, die. [Exeunt.


The Mart.

Enter AntiPHOLIS, of Syracuse.

Ant. of Syr. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur, and the heedful slave Is wander'd forth in care to seek me out. Oh, here he comes !


sir ? is your merry humour alter'd? As you love strokes, so jest with me again. You knew no Centaur ! you receiv'd no gold ! Your mistress sent, to have me home to dinner ! My house was at the Phønix! wert thou mad, That thus, so strangely thou didst answer me? Dro. of Syr. What answer, sir ? when spake I such

a word? Ant. of Syr. Ev'n now, ev’n here; not half an hour

since. Dro. of Syr. I did not see you, since you sent me

hence Home, to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. of Syr. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's re


And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st, I was displeased.

Dro. of Syr. I'm glad to see you in this merry vein; What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me? Ant. of Syr. What, dost thou jeer, and flout me in

the teeth? Think'st thou, I jest? there, take thou that, and that! Dro. of Syr. Hold, sir, for Heaven's sake !-Now

your jest is earnestUpon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. of Syr. Because that I, familiarly, sometimes, Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours. When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams. If you will jest with me, then know

my aspect, And fashion

your demeanor to my looks. Dro. of Syr. I pray, sir, why am I beaten? Ant. of Syr. Dost thou not know? Dro. of Syr. Nothing, but that I am beaten. Ant. of Syr. Why, first, for flouting me, and then,

for urging
It, in spite of my assertion to the contrary.
Is dinner ready?

Dro. of Syr. No, sir, I think the meat wants what
Ant. of Syr. What's that?
Dro. of Syr. Why, basting, sir.
Ant. of Syr. No more, thou knave! for see, who

wafts us yonder, This way they haste, and, by their gestures, seem To point out me -what should they mean, I trow?

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipbolis, look strange and frown,
Some other mistress hath some sweeter aspect:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

I've got.

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