Luc. Till ue come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; They can be meek, that have no other cause. Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try;Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh. Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? Dro. E. Nay, he is 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. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear; Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning? Dro. E. 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 pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn. mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain? Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure, he's stark mad; When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, Dro. E. Quoth my master: I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress; Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home? For God's sake send some other messenger. Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other beating: Between you I shall have a holy head. Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy master home. Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus ? Hath homely age the alluring beauty took I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; SCENE II. The same. Enter ANTIPHOLUs of Syracuse. Ant. S. 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. By computation, and mine host's report, I could not speak with Dromio, since at first I sent him from the mart: See, here he comes. Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. How now, sir? is your merry humour alter d? Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I such a word? Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since. Dre. S. I did not see you since you sent m hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's re ceipt; And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner ; teeth? Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, that. [Beating h Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake: now your is earnest : Upon what bargain do you give it me? Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. Your sauciness will jest upon my love, Dr. S. Nothing, sir; but that I am beaten. Dre. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore. Ant. &. Why, first,-for flouting me; and then, wherefore, For urging it the second time to me. Dr. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season? When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither rhyme nor reason?— Well, sir, I thank you. Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what? Dr. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing. Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something.. But, say, sir, is it dinnertime? Dro. S. No, sir; I think, the meat wants that I have. Ant. 8. In good time, sir, what's that? Ant. 8. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. Dra. §. If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. Ant. S. Your reason? Dr. S. Lest it make you cholerick, and purchase me another dry basting... Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time; There's a time for all things. Dre. S. I durst have denied that, before you were so cholerick. Ant. 8. By what rule, sir? Dro. S. Certain ones then. Ant. S. Name them. Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends in tiring; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge. Ant. S. You would 'all this time have proved, there is no time for all things. Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to recover hair lost by nature. Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover. Dro. S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald followers. Ant. S. I knew, 'twould be a bald conclusion: But soft! who wafts us yonder? Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown; The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st vow As take from me thyself, and not me too. Dro. 8. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow, bald pate of father Time himself. Ant. 8. Let's hear it. Dra. & There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature. Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery? Dra. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the lost hair of another man. Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? Dr. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts: and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit. Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit. Dr. S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair. Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit. Dra. &. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: Yet be loseth it in a kind of jollity. Ant. 8. For what reason? Dr. S. For two; and sound ones too. Ast. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do it. Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed; Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not: In Ephesus I am but two hours old, Luc. Fye, brother! how the world is chang'd with you: When were you wont to use my sister thus? She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. Ant. S. By Dromio? Dro. S. By me? Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return from him, That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows What is the course and drift of your compact? Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life. Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our names, Unless it be by inspiration? Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. No, I am an ape. Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. 'Tis So, I am an ass; else it could never be, Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for her Come, sister :- Dromio, play the porter well. theme: What, was I married to her in my dream? Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this? 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. Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [Exeunt. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours: Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. Marry, so it doth appear I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass, May answer my good will, and your good welcome Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, Dr. S. [Within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch: Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store, When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. Dr. E. What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street. Dra. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door. tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day. Dr. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come again, when you may. Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I owe? Dra. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio. Dr. E. O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name; The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, Luce. [Within.] What a coil is there! Dromio, Faith no; he comes too late; And so tell your master. O Lord, I must laugh; Have at you with a proverb. Shall I set in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another that's, Dr. S. If thy name be called Luce, Luce, thou hast answer'd him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I hope? Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither. Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold: It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold. Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate. Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate. Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir; and words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking; Out upon thee, hind! Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray thee, let me in. Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin. Ant. E. Well, I'll break in; Go borrow me a crow. Dro. E. A crow without a feather; master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather: If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together. Ant. E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow. Bal. Have patience, sir, O, let it not be so ; Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect The unviolated honour of your wife. Once this, -Your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you. Be rul'd by me; depart in patience, And let us to the Tiger all to dinner : And, about evening, come yourself alone, To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in, Now in the stirring passage of the day, Can you tell for whose sake? A vulgar comment will be made on it; Dr. E. Master, knock the door hard. And that supposed by the common rout Luce. Let him knock till it ake. Against your yet ungalled estimation, Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the That may with foul intrusion enter in, door down. And dwell upon your grave when you are dead: For slander lives upon succession; For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession. Ant. E. You have prevail'd; I will depart in Dre. S. Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. And, in despight of mirth, mean to be merry. 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 : Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; Be secret-false: What need she be acquainted? 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 on 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. Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye. No; It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. [Erit Luc. Dro. S. A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir-reverence: I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she 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. not do it. No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could Ant. S. What's her name? Dro. S. Nell, sir; - but her name and 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 |