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That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?

What is the course and drift of your compact?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very
words

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, 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 idle moss; 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:

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This is the fairy land;- O, 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?

ACT III.

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.
Dro. E.

Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.

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Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot 1
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 my
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 you of a thousand idle pranks : Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. — Come, sister- Dromio, play the porter well.

Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping or waking? mad, or well advis'd? Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd! I'll say as they say, and perséver so, And in this mist at all adventures go.

Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your

pate.

Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [Exeunt.

I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass. Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 'Pray God, our cheer

May answer my good will, and your good welcome here.

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear.

Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,

A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bol. Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords.

Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.

Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast.

Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest.

But though my cates be mean, take them in good part;

Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'

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If thou had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou would'st have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass.

Luce. [Within.] What a coil is there! who are those at the gate?

Dromio,

Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce. Faith no; he comes too late ; And so tell our master. ! Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh; Have at you with a proverb. - Shall I set in my staff?

Luce. Have at you with another
When? can you tell?

that's, Dro. 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. S.
And you said, no.
Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there was
blow for blow.

Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce.
Can you tell for whose sake?
Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.
Luce.
Let him knock till it ake.
Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the
door down.

Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town?

Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noise?

Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys.

Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have come before.

Adr. Your wife, sir knave! go, get you from the door.

Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore.

Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.

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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, A vulgar comment will be made on it; And that supposed by the common rout Against your yet ungalled estimation, That may with foul intrusion enter in, 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
quiet,

And, in despight of mirth, mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Pretty and witty; wild, and, yet too, gentle;
There will we dine: this woman that I mean,
My wife (but, I protest, without desert,)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal;
To her will we to dinner. Get you home,
And fetch the chain: by this, I know, 'tis made:
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine;
For there's the house; that chain will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife,)
Upon mine hostess there; good sir, make haste;

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Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.
Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour
hence.

Ant. E. Do so; This jest shall cost me some [Exeunt.

expence.

SCENE II. - The same.

Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office? shall, Antipholus, hate, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate? If you did wed my sister for her wealth,

Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindness:

Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle 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 :

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,

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Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.

Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will dear your sight.

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

:

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. Lur. It is a fault that springeth from your eye.

Luc. Why call you me love? call my sister so.
Ant. S. Thy sister's sister.
Luc.

That's my sister.

No;

Ant. S.

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. O, soft, sir, hold you still; I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will.

[Exit Luc. Enter from the house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Syracuse.

Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where run'st thou so fast?

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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 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. 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 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

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?

If every one knows us, and we know none,
'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Exit.

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

Ant. S. 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 soul
Doth for a wife abhor: but her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,

Ant. S. Where France?

Dro. S. In her forehead; armed and reverted, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, making war against her hair. Hath almost made me traitor to myself: But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.

Enter ANGELO.

Ant. S. Where England?

Dro. S. I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them: but I guess, it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it.

Ant. S. Where Spain?

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

Ant. S. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carracks to be ballast at her

nose.

Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; called me Dromio; swore, I was assured to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: and, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i'the wheel.

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Ang. Master Antipholus?
Ant. S. Ay, that's my name.

Enter a Merchant, ANGELO, and an Officer.

Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I have not much impórtun'd you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want gilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or I'll attach you by this officer.

Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus:
And, in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a chain; at five o'clock,
I shall receive the money for the same:
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and DROMIO of
Ephesus.

Off. That labour may you save; see where he

comes.

Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou

ACT IV.

Ang. I know it well, sir Lo, here is the chain;
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine:
The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.

Ant. S. What is your will, that I shall do with
this?

Ang. What please yourself, sir; I have made it for you..

Ant. S. Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not.
Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you
have:

Go home with it, and please your wife withal;
And soon at supper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my money for the chain.

Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now,
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money more.
Ang. You are a merry man, sir; fare you well.

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

[Exit.

And buy a rope's end; that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out of my doors by day. -
But soft, I see the goldsmith: - get thee gone;
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me.
Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy
a rope!
[Exit DROMIO.
Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to you.
I promised your presence, and the chain;
But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me.
Belike, you thought our love would last too long,
If it were chain'd together; and therefore came not.

Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note,
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat;
The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion;
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more
Than I stand debted to this gentleman:
I pray you, see him presently discharg'd,
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.
Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present

money;
Besides I have some business in the town:
Good signior, take the stranger to my house,

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Ang. The money, that you owe me for the chain. Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain. Ang. You know, I gave it you half an hour since.

Ant. E. You gave me none; you wrong me much to say so.

Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it : Consider, how it stands upon my credit.

Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. Off. I do; and charge you in the duke's name, to obey me.

Ang. This touches me in reputation : Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer.

Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had! Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st.

――――――

Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer ; · I would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorn me so apparently.

Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit. Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail: But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer.

Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Blows fair from land: they stay for no ight at all,
But for their owner, master, and yourself.
Ant. E. How now! a madman Why thou pee-
vish sheep,

>

Enter DROMIO of Syracus

Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Lp...a.anuïn, That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, bears away: our fraughtage, sir, I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitæ. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind

What ship of Epidamnum stays for me?

Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope; And told thee to what purpose, and what end.

Dro. S. You sent me, sir, 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 listen with more heed. To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight: Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry, There is a purse of ducats; let her send it; Tell her, I am arrested in the street,

And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave; be gone. On, officer, to prison till it come.

[Exeunt Merchant, ANGELO, Officer, and! ANT. E. Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where we din'd, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband : She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. [Erit

SCENE II.

- The same.

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?

Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no?

Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad, or merrily? What observation mad'st thou in this case, Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face?

Luc. First, he denied you had in him no right. Adr. He meant, he did me none; the more my spite.

Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here. Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he

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