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SCENE II.-The Same.
A husband's office ? Shall, Antipholus,
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous ?
kindness : Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth: Muiile your false love with some show of blind
ness; Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger:
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint:
What simple 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 bastard fame, well managed;
Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us ; Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve,
We in your motion turn, and you may move us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again:
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife. 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else,
I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,) Less in your knowledge, and your grace you show
not, Than our earth's wonder; more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak :
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul'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 power I'll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know,
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Far more, far more, to you do I decline.
To drowo me in thy sister's flood of tears.
, and I will dote : Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie;
And, in that glorious supposition, think He gains by death, that hath such means to die :
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink ! Luc. What! are you mad, that you do reason so ? Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know. Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye. Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun,
being by. Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear
your sight. Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on
night. Luc. Why call you me love ! call my sister so. Ant. S. Thy sister's sister. Luc.
That's my sister.
No; It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life : Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand. Luc.
0, soft, sir! hold you still : I'll fetch my sister, to get her good-will. [Exil.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse, hastily. Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio! where run'st thou so fast?
Dro. S. Do you know me, sir ? am I Dromio ? am I your man? am I myself ?
Ani. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.
Dro. S. I am an ass; I am a woman's man, and besides myself.
Ant. S. What woman's man? and how besides thyself.
Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.
Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse ; and she would have me as a beast: not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me.
Ant. S. What is she ?
Dro. S. A very reverend body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, sirreverence. I have but lean luck in the match, and yet she is a wondrous fat marriage.
Ant. S. How dost thou mean a fat marriage ?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Ant. S. What complexion is she of?
Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept: for why ? she sweats; a man may go over shoes in the grime of it.
Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend.
Dro. S. No, sir; 'tis in grain : Noah's flood could not do it.
Ant. S. What's her name?
Dro. S. Nell, sir; but her name is three quarters, that is, an ell; and three quarters will not measure her from hip to hip.
Ant. s. Then she bears some breadth ?
Dro. S. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe ; I could find out countries in her.
Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland ?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks : I found it out by the bogs.
Ant. S. Where Scotland ?
Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness, hard, in the palm of the hand.
Ant. S. Where France ?
Dro. S. In her forehead; arm'd and reverted, making war against her heir. Ant. s. Where England ?
Dro. S. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could She that doth call me husband, even my soul find no whiteness in them: but I guess, it stood in Doth for a wife abhor ; but her fair sister, her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, and it.
Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Anl. S. Where Spain ?
Hath almost made me traitor to myself: Dro. S. Faith, 1 saw it not; but I felt it hot in But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, her breath.
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. Ant. S. Where America, the Indies? Dro. S. O! sir, upon her nose, all o'er embel
Enter ANGELO. Jished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining Ang. Master Antipholus ? their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who Ant. S. Ay, that's my name. sent whole armadoes of carracks to be ballast at her Ang. I know it well, sir. Lo, here is the chain.
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine ; Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ? || The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.
Dro. S. O! sir, I did not look so low. To con Ant. S. What is your will that I shall do with clude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me;
this? call'd me Dromio; swore, I was assured to her : Ang. What please yourself, sir: I have made it told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the Ant. S. Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not. great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you her as a witch : and, I think, if my breast had not
have. been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had Go home with it, and please your wife withal; transform'd me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn And soon at supper-time I'll visit you, i' the wheel.
And then receive my money for the chain. Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently post to the road, Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now, And if the wind blow any way from shore,
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more. I will not harbour in this town to-night.
Ang. You are a merry man, sir. Fare you If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
(Erit. Where I will walk till thou return to me.
Ant. S. What I should think of this I cannot tell; If every one knows us, and we know none,
But this I think, there's no man is so vain, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and begone. That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain.
Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life, I see, a man here needs not live by shifts, So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Exit. When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here, || I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay: And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence. If any ship put out, then straight away. (Exit.
SCENE 1.- The Same.
Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have,
Or else you may return without your money. Enter a Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer.
Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due,
chain : And since I have not much importun'd you; Both wind and tide stay for this gentleman, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
And I, to blame, have held him here too long. To Persia, and want gilders for my voyage :
Ant. E. Good lord ! you use this dalliance, to Therefore make present satisfaction,
excuse Or I'll attach you by this officer.
Your breach of promise to the Porcupine. Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you, I should have chid you for not bringing it, Is growing to me by Antipholus ;
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. And, in the instant that I met with
Mer. The hour steals on: I pray you, sir, dispatch. He had of me a chain : at five o'clock,
Ang. You hear, how he importunes me: the I shall receive the money for the same.
chain Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.
Ang. Come, come; you know, I gave it you even Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and Dromio of Ephesus.
Either send the chain, or send me by some token. Off. That labour may you save: see where he Ant. E. Fie! now you run this humour out of
breath. Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go
Come, where's the chain ? I pray you, let me see it. thou
Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance. And buy a rope's end, that will I bestow
Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no ? Among my wife and her confederates,
If not, I'll leave hiin to the officer. For locking me out of my doors by day.
Ant. E. I answer you! what should I answer you? But soft, I see the goldsmith.–Get thee gone; Ang. The money that you owe me for the chain. Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me.
Anl. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain. Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a-year? I buy Ang. You know, I gave it you half an hour since. a rope ?
(E.rit. Ant. E. You gave me none : you wrong me much Ant. E. A man is well holp up that trusts to you:
to say so. I promised your presence, and the chain,
Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: But peither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me.
Consider how it stands upon my credit.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note obey me.
Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had ? I pray you, see him presently discharg'd,
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.
Ang. Here is thy fee : arrest him, officer.Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present I would not spare my brother in this case, money ;
If he should scorn me so apparently. Besides, I have some business in the town.
off. I do arrest you, sir. You hear the suit. Good signior, take the stranger to my house,
Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail.And with you take the chain, and bid my wife But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear, Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof:
As all the metal in your shop will answer. Perchance, I will be there as soon as you.
Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, Ang. Then, you will bring the chain to her To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.
yourself? Ant. E. No; bear, it with you, lest I come not
Enter Dromo of Syracuse. time enough.
Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about That stays but till her owner comes aboard, you?
And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir,
I have convey'd aboard, and I have bought
Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.
Dro. S. You sent me for a rope's end as soon. You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.
Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure,
And teach your ears to list me with more heed.
(Exeunt Merchant, ANGELO, Officer, and
ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus.
SCENE II.-The Same.
Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy
love? Enter ADRIANA, and Luciana.
Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might Adr. Ah! Luciana, did he tempt thee so ?
Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye First, he did praise my beauty; then, my speech. That he did plead in earnest ? yea or no ?
Adr. Did'st speak him fair? Look'd he or red, or pale ? or sad, or merrily? Luc.
Have patience, I beseech. What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still : Of his heart's meteor's tilting in his face ?
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his Luc. First he denied you had in him no right.
will. Adr. He meant, he did me none: the more my He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, spite.
Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapeless every where; Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here. | Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. he were.
Luc. Who would be jealous, then, of such a one? Luc. Then pleaded I for you.
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. Adr.
And what said he ? Adr. Ah! but I think him better than I say, Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me. And yet would herein others' eyes were worse.
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away:
Some offer me commodities to buy :
And show'd me silks that he had bought for me,
And, therewithal, took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, Dro. S. Here, go: the desk! the purse! sweet, And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. now make haste.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
By running fast. Dro. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for. Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well ? What, have you got the picture of old Adam new
Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell: || apparell’d? A devil in an everlasting garment hath him,
Ant. S. What gold is this? What Adam dost. One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel;
thou mean? A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ;
Dro. S. Not that Adam that kept the paradise, A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff;
but that Adam that keeps the prison: he that goes A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counter in the calf's-skin that was killed for the prodigal : mands
he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ; bid you forsake your liberty. A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot Ant. S. I understand thee not. well;
Dro. S. No? why, 'tis' a plain case: he that One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to went, like a base-viol, in a case of leather: the man, hell.
sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a Adr. Why, man, what is the matter?
sob, and 'rests them: he, sir, that takes pity on deDro. S. I do not know the matter: he is 'rested || cayed men, and gives them suits of durance; he on the case.
that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his Adr. What, is he arrested? tell me at whose suit. mace, than a morris-pike. Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested Ant. S. What, thou mean'st an officer ? well;
Dro. S. Ay, sir, the serjeant of the band; he But is in a suit of buff which 'rested him, that can that brings any man to answer it, that breaks his I tell.
band; one that thinks a man always going to bed, Will you send him, mistress, redemption ? the and
says, “God give you good rest!" money in his desk?
Ani. s. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is Adr. Go fetch it, sister.- This I wonder at ; there any ship puts forth to-night? may we be
[Exit Luciana. That he, unknown to me, should be in debt :
Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour Tell me, was be arrested on a band ?
since, that the bark Expedition put forth to-night; Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; and then were you hindered by the serjeant to tarry A chain, a chain : do you not hear it ring ?
for the hoy Delay. Here are the angels that you Adr. What, the chain ?
sent for to deliver you. Dro. S. No, no, the bell. 'Tis time that I were Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I, gone :
And here we wander in illusions.
Enter a Courtesan. Dro. S. O yes; if any hour meet a serjeant, 'a Cour. Well met, well met, master Antipholus. turns back for very fear.
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now: Adr. As if time were in debt! how fondly dost Is that the chain, you promis'd me to-day? thou reason!
Ant. S. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me Dro. S. Time is a very bankrout, and owes more
not! than he's worth, to season.
Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan? Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say, Ant. S. It is the devil. That time comes stealing on by night and day? Dro. $. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's If he be in debt and theft, and a serjeant in the way, dam; and here she comes in the habit of a light Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? wench; and thereof comes that the wenches say,
" God damn me,” that's as much as to say, Re-enter LUCIANA.
make me a light wench.” It is written, they apAdr. Go, Dromio: there's the money, bear it pear to men like angels of light: light is an effect straight,
of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will And bring thy master home immediately. burn. Come not near her. Come, sister; I am press'd down with conceit, Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. (Ereunt.
Will you go with me? we'll mend our dinner here. SCENE III.— The Same.
Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat,
or bespeak a long spoon. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.
Ant. S. Why, Dromio? Ant. S. There's not a man I meet but doth salute Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon that me,
must eat with the devil. As if I were their well acquainted friend;
Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me And every one doth call me by my name.
of supping ? Some tender money to me, some invite me; Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress : Some other give me thanks for kindnesses;
I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone.