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Oh, train me not, fweet Mermaid, with thy note,
To drown me in thy fifter's flood of tears;
Sing, Siren, for thy felf, and I will dote;
Spread o'er the filver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lye:
And in that glorious fuppofition think,

He gains by death, that hath fuch means to die;
Let love, being light, be drowned if the fink.
Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so?
S. Ant. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
Luc. It is a fault that fpringeth from your eye.
S. Ant. For gazing on your beams, fair Sun, being by.
Luc. Gaze where you fhould, and that will clear your
fight.

S. Ant. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.

Luc. Why call you me, love? call my fifter fo.
S. Ant. Thy fifter's fifter.

Luc. That's my fifter.

S. Ant. No;

It is thy felf, mine own felf's better part:
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart,
My food, my fortune, and my fweet hope's aim,
My fole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
Luc. All this my fifter is, or else should be.

S. Ant. Call thy felf fifter, Sweet; for I mean thee:
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my
life;
Thou haft no husband yet, nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand.

Luc. Oh, foft, Sir, hold you still;
I'll fetch my fifter, to get her good will.

Enter Dromio of Syracufe.

[Exit Luc.

S. Ant. Why, how now, Dromio, where run'ft thou fo faft?

S. Dro. Do you know me, Sir? am I Dremio? am I your man? am I my felf?

S. Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thy felf.

S. Dro.

S. Dro. I am an afs, I am a woman's man and befides my self.

S. Ant. What woman's man? and how befides thy felf?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, befides my felf, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

S. Ant. What claim lays fhe to thee?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, fuch claim as you would lay to your horse; and the would have me as a beast: not that, Í being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beaftly creature, lays claim to me.

S. Ant. What is fhe?

S. Dro. A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not fpeak of, without he fay, Sir reverence: I have but lean luck in the match; and yet is the a wond'rous fat marriage.

S. Ant. How doft thou mean, a fat marriage?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, fhe'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 the lives 'till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.

S. Ant. What complexion is the of?

S. Dro. Swart, like my fhoe, but her face nothing like fo clean kept; for why? fhe fweats, a man may go over-fhoes in the grime of it.

S. Ant. That's a fault, that water will mend.

S. Dro. No, Sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it.

S. Ant. (14) What's her name?

(14) What's her Name?

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S. Dro. Nell; Sir; but her name is three quarters; that is, an Ell and three Quarters, &c.] This Paffage has hitherto lain as perplext and unintelligible, as it is now eafy, and truly humourous. If a Conundrum be reftor'd, in fetting it right, who can help it? There are enough befides in our Author, and Ben Jonson, to countenance that current Vice of the Times when this Play appear'd. Nor is Mr. Pope, in the Chafity of his Tafte, to briftle up at me for the Revival of this Witticism, fince I owe the Correction to the Sagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby.

S. Dro.

S. Dro. Nell, Sir;- but her name and three quarters (that is, an ell and three quarters) will not measure her from hip to hip.

S. Ant. Then fhe bears fome breadth?

S. Dro. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip; fhe is fpherical, like a globe: I could find out

countries in her.

S. Ant. In what part of her body stands Ireland?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, in her buttocks; I found it out by the bogs.

S. Ant. Where Scotland?

S. Dro. I found it out by the barrenness, hard in the palm of her hand.

(15) S. Ant. Where France?

S. Dro. In her forehead; arm'd and reverted, making war against her Heir

S. Ant. Where England?

S. Dro. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could

(15) S. Ant. Where France?

S. Dro. In her Forehead; arm'd and reverted, making War against ber hair.] All the other Countries, mention'd in this Defcription, are in Dromio's Replies fatirically characteriz'd: but here, as the Editors have order'd it, no Remark is made upon France; nor any Reason given, why it fhould be in her Forehead: but only the Kitchen-wench's high Forehead is rallied, as pufhing back her hair. Thus all the modern Editions; but the firft Folio reads- making War against her heir. And I am very apt to think, this Laft is the true Reading; and that an Equivoque, as the French call it, a double Meaning is defign'd in the Poet's Allufion: and therefore I have replaced it in the Text. If my Conjecture be of any Weight, we may be able from it pretty precisely to fix the Date of this Play's Appearance. I am not afham'd to trust it to Judgment, & valeat quantum valere poteft. In 1589, Henry IIId of France being ftab'd and dying of his Wound, was fucceeded by Henry IVth of Navarre, whom he appointed his Succeffor; but whofe Claim the States of France refifted, on account of his being a Protestant. This, I take it, is what he means, by France making War against her beir. Now as, in 1591, Queen Elizabeth fent over 4000 Men, under the Conduct of the Earl of Effex, to the Affiftance of this Henry of Navarre; it feems to me very probable, that during this Expedition being on foot, this Comedy made its Appearance. And it was the finest Addrefs imaginable in the Poet, to throw fuch an oblique Sneer at France, for oppofing the Succeffion of that Heir, whofe Claim his Royal Mistress, the Queen, had fent over a Force to establish, and oblige them to acknowledge.

find no whiteness in them; but I guess, it stood in her chin, by the falt rheum that ran between France and it. S. Ant. Where Spain?

S. Dro. Faith, I faw it not, but I felt it hot in her breath.

6. Ant. Where America, the Indies?

S. Dro. Óh, Sir, upon her nofe, all o'er embellish'd with rubies, carbuncles, faphires; declining their rich afpect to the hot breath of Spain, who fent whole Armadoes of carracts to be ballaft at her nose.

S. Ant. Where ftood Belgia, the Netherlands?

S. Dro. Oh, Sir, I did not look fo low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid Claim to me, call'd me Dromio, fwore I was affur'd to her, told me what privy marks I had about me, as the marks of my fhoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amaz'd, ran from her as a witch. And, I think, if my breaft had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, fhe had transform'd me to a curtal-dog, and made me turn i'th' wheel.

S. Ant. Go, hie thee presently; poft to the road; And if the wind blow any way from fhore, I will not harbour in this town to night. If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk, 'till thou return to me: If every one knows us, and we know none, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone. S. Dro. As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Exit.

S. Ant. There's None but Witches do inhabit here And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence: She, that doth call me husband, even my foul Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair fifter, Poffeft with fuch a gentle fovereign grace, Of such inchanting prefence and difcourfe, Hath almoft made me traitor to my felf: But left my self be guilty of felf-wrong, I'll stop mine cars against the Mermaid's fong.

VOL. III.

D

Enter

Enter Angelo, with a Chain.

Ang. Mafter Antipholis,

S. Ant. Ay, that's my name.

Ang. I know it well, Sir; lo, here is the Chain;
I thought t' have tane you at the Porcupine;
The Chain, unfinith'd, made me ftay thus long.

S. Ant. What is your will, that I fhall do with this? Ang. What please your felf, Sir; I have made it for you.

S. Ant. Made it for me, Sir! I befpoke it not.

Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times, you have:

Go home with it, and please your wife withal;
And foon at fupper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my mony for the Chain.

S. Ant. I pray you, Sir, receive the mony now;
For fear you ne'er fee Chain, nor mony, more.
Ang. You are a merry man, Sir; fare you well.

[Exit.
S. Ant. What I fhould think of this, I cannot tell:
But this I think, there's no man is fo vain,
That would refuse fo fair an offer'd Chain.
I fee, a man here needs not live by fhifts,
When in the streets he meets fuch golden gifts:
I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay;
If any ship put out, then strait away.

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[Exit.

Enter a Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer.

Y

MERCHANT.

OU know, fince Pentecoft the fum is due; And fince I have not much importun'd you; Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Perfia, and want Gilders for my voyage:

There

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