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Adr. There's none but affes will be bridled fo.

Luc. Why, head-ftrong liberty is lafh'd with woe. There's nothing fituate under heav'n's eye, But hath its bound in earth, in sea, in sky: The beafts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' fubjects, and at their controuls. Men more divine, the mafters of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wide wat’ry feas, Endu'd with intellectual sense and foul, Of more preheminence than fish and fowl, Are mafters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adr. This fervitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Adr. But were you wedded, you would bear fome
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. [fway.
Adr. How if your husband start fome other where?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel tho' fhe pause;
They can be meek that have no other cause:
A wretched foul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;

But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we fhould ourselves complain.
So thou, that haft no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience would'ft relieve me :
But if thou live to fee like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luc. Well, I will marry one day but to try;

Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.
SCENE II. Enter Dromio of Ephefus.
Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand?
E. Dro. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that
my two ears can witnefs.

Adr. Say, did't thou speak with him? know'ft thou his mind?

E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told me his mind upon mine ear. Befarew his hand, I fearce could understand it.

Luc. Spake he fo doubtfully, thou could'ft not feel his meaning?

E. Dro. Nay, he ftruck fo plainly, I could too well

feel his blows; and withal fo doubtfully, that I could fcarce underftand them.

Adr. But fay, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It feems he hath great care to please his wife.

E. Dro. Why, mistress, fure my mafter is horn-mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain!

E. Dro. I mean not cuckold mad; but fure he's stark When I defir'd him to come home to dinner,

[mad:

He afk'd me for a thousand marks in gold:
'Tis dinner-time, quoth I; My gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold, quoth he :
Will you come home, quoth I? My gold, quoth he;
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; My gold, quoth he;
My miftrefs, Sir, quoth I; Hang up thy miftrefs!
I know not thy miftrefs; out on thy mistress!
Luc. Quoth who?

E. Dro. Quoth my

mafter:

I know, quoth he, no houfe, no wife, no mistress;
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclufion, he did beat me there.

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

home.

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E. Dro. Go back again, and be new beaten home? For God's fake fend fome other meffenger.

Adr. Back, flave, or I will break thy pate acrofs. E. Dro. And he will blefs that crofs with other beat

ing:

Between you I fhall have a holy head.

Adr. Hence, prating peafant, fetch thy mafter home. E. Dro. Am I fo round with you as you with me, That like a foot-ball you do fpurn me thus ? You fpurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I laft in this fervice, you must case me in leather.

SCENE III.

[Exit.

Luc. Fie, how impatience lowreth in your face?
Adr. His company muft do his minions grace,

Whilft I at home ftarve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took

From my poor cheek? then, he hath wasted it.
Are my difcourfes dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait ?
That's not my fault: he's master of my state.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A funny look of his would foon repair.
But, too unruly dear, he breaks the pale,

And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
Luc. Self-harming jealoufy!-fie, beat it hence.
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with fuch wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage other-where;

Or else what lets it, but he would be here?
Sifter, you know he promis'd me a chain;
Would that alone, alone, he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I fee the jewel best enameled,

Will lose his beauty; and the gold bides ftill,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold: and fo no man that hath a name,
But falfehood, and corruption, doth it fhame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools ferve mad jealousy!
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Changes to the street.

Enter Antipholis of Syracufe.

Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful flave
Is wander'd forth in care to feek me out.
By computation, and mine hoft's report,
I could not fpeak with Dromio, fince at firft
I fent him from the mart. See, here he comes.

Enter Dromio of Syracufe.

How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love frokes, fo jeft with me again.

You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress fent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? waft thou mad,
That thus fo madly thou didst answer me ?

S. Dro. What answer, Sir? when fpake I fuch a word?

Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour since. S. Dro. I did not fee you fince you fent me hence Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt; And told'ft me of a mistress, and a dinner; For which I hope thou felt 'ft I was difpleas'd.

S. Dro. I'm glad to see you in this merry vein : What means this jeft, I pray you, master, tell me? Ant. Yea, doft thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think'ft thou I jeft? hold, take thou that, and that. [Beats Dro.

S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jeft is earneft;

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. Becaufe that I familiarly fometimes
Do ufe you for my fool, and chat with you,
Your faucinefs will jeft upon my love,

And make a common of my ferious hours.
When the fun fhines, let foolish gnats make sport ;
But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
If you will jeft with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks;
Or I will beat this method in your fconcet.

*Method, for instruction.

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your fconce.

*

S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? fo you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head; an you use these blows long, 1 muft get a fconce for my head, and infconce it too, or else I fhall feek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten ? Ant. Doft thou not know?

S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten.

Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they fay, every why hath a wherefore.

Ant. Why, frft, for flouting me; and when wherefore, for urging it the fecond time to me.

S. Dro. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of feafon,

SCENE

V. Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholis, look strange and frown, Some other mistress hath thy fweet afpects :

I am not Adriana, nor thy wife..

The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, wouldst vow, That never words were mufic to thine ear,

• That never object pleasing in thine cye,

• That never touch well welcome to thy hand,

When, in the why, and wherefore, is neither rhime nor reafon? Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant. Thank me, Sir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, for this fomething that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But fay, Sir, is it dinner-time?

S. Dro. No, Sir, think the meat wants that I have.

Ant. In good time, Sir, what's that?

S. Dro. Bafting.

Ant. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.

S. Dro. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.

Ant. Your reafon ?

S. Dro. Left it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry-bafting.

Ant. Well, Sir, learn to jest in good time; there's a time for all things.

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S. Dro. I durft have deny'd that, before you were so choleric. Ant. By what rule, Sir!

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald paté of father Time himself.

Ant. Let's hear it.

S. Dro. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. May he not do it by fine and recovery?

S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the loft hair of another man.

Ant. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?

and

S. Dro. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts; what he hath seanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit. Ant. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit. S. Dro. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lofe his hair. Ant. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without

wit.

S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the fooner loft; yet he lofes it in a kind of jollity.

Ant. For what reafon?

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