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Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown; Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspécts, I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st vow That never words were musick to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste, Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee. How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it That thou art then estranged from thyself? Thyself I call it, being strange to me, That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear self's better part. Ah, do not tear away thyself from me; For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulph, And take unmingled thence that drop again, Without addition, or diminishing, As take from me thyself, and not me too. How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, Should'st thou but hear I were licentious ? And that this body, consecrate to thee, By ruffian lust should be contaminate ? Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me, And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stain'd skin off
harlot brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do it. VOL. IV.
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot;
Ant. S. By Dromio?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time.
Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Unless it be by inspiration?
Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood? Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine; Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate: If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, briar, or idlemoss; Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for her
theme: What, was I married to her in my dream? Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this? Whát error drives our eyes and ears amiss? Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for
dinner. Dro. S. O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner. This is the fairy land ;-0, spite of spites ! We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites; If we obey them not, this will ensue, They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st
not? Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I? Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I. Dro, S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in m
shape. Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. Dro. S.
No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for
grass. 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be, But I should know her as well as she knows me.
Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep, Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to scorn.“ Come, sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate :Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day, And shrive 4
of a thousand idle pranks :
Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate?
pate. Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late.
SCENE I. The same.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of
Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR, Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us
all; My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours : Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop, To see the making of her carkanet, And that to-morrow you will bring it home. But here's a villain, that would face me down He met me on the mart; and that I beat him. And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold; And that I did deny my wife and house:Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what
I know: That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to
show : If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave
were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Ant. E, I think, thou art an ass.
Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.
5 A necklace strung with pearls.