hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I
could find out countries in her.

Ant. S. In what part of the body stands Ire- 120 land?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found it out by the bogs.

Ant. S. Where Scotland?

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

Ant. S. Where France?

Dro. S. In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her heir.

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?

130

129. "armed and reverted, making war against her heir"; Folio 2 substituted hair for heir, but the play upon words is the whole point of the passage, an allusion being intended to the War of the League against Henry of Navarre, the heir of Henry III of France, whose cause was supported by Elizabeth; in 1591 she sent a body of 4,000 men under Essex to help him. "Mistress Nell's brazen forehead seemed to push back her rough and rebellious hair, as France resisted the claim of the Protestant heir to the throne."-Clarke.

English enthusiasm for Henry of Navarre found expression, too, in Shakespeare's Love's Labor's Lost.

As regards the peculiar use of reverted, i. e. "turned back," Schmidt suggests that there may be a play upon the sense of "fallen to another proprietor.”—I. G.

Dro. S. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, de- 140 clining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose.

Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?
Dro. S. Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To con-
clude, 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 150
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 transform'd me to a curtal dog,
and made me turn i' the wheel.

Ant. S. Go hie thee presently, post to the road:
An if the wind blow any way from shore,
I will not harbor 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, 159
'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. 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

152. Alluding to the popular belief that a great share of faith was a protection from witchcraft.-H. N. H.

Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, 170
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.
Enter Angelo with the chain.

Ang. Master Antipholus,

Ant. S.

Aye, that's my name. Ang. I know it well, sir: lo, here is the chain.

I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine: 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.

179

[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.

189

ACT FOURTH

SCENE I

A public place.

Enter Second Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer.

Sec. Mer. You know since Pentecost the sum is due,

And since I have not much importuned you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want guilders 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 from the courtezan's.

10

Off. That labor may you save: see where he comes. Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go

thou

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

20

rope. [Exit. 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 humor, 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 30
Than I stand debted to this gentleman:

I

pray you, see him presently discharged,

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,
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof:
Perchance I will be there as soon as you.

21. “I buy a thousand pound a year"; some point in these words, familiar to Shakespeare's audience, is lost to us, and no satisfactory explanation has as yet been given, though Halliwell's comparison of the line with 3 Henry VI II. ii. 144, is noteworthy:

“A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns,
To make this shameless callet know herself."-—I. G.