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By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore ; for they say
(Exeunt. 116 For urging it the second time to me.
Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten (SCENE II. A public place.]
out of season, Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.
When in the why and the wherefore is neither
rhyme nor reason?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that By cc putation and mine host's report,
you gave me for nothing. I coul not speak with Dromio since at first Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give I senttnim from the mart. See, here he comes. you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S. No, sir. I think the meat wants that How now, sir! is your merry humour alter'd ?
Ant. S. In good time, sir; what's that?
Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of My house was at the Phønix ? Wast thou it. mad,
Ant. S. Your reason ? That thus so madly thou didst answer me? Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric and pur Dro. S. What answer, sir ? When spake I chase me another dry basting. such a word ?
Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an time. There's a time for all things. hour since.
Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before you Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me
were so choleric. hence,
Ant. S. By what rule, sir ? Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as
the plain bald pate of father Time himself. Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's Ant, S. Let's hear it. receipt
Dro. S. There's no time for a man to reAnd told'st me of a mistress and a dinner ; cover his hair that grows bald by nature. For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and reDro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry covery? vein.
Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig and What means this jest ? I pray you, master, tell recover the lost hair of another man. me.
Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement ? the teeth ?
Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he is Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, bestows on beasts; and what he hath scanted and that.
(Beats Dro. men in hair he hath given them in wit. Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake! Now your Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath jest is earnest.
more hair than wit. Upon what bargain do you give it me?
Dro. S. Not a man of those but he hath the Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes wit to lose his hair. Do use you for my fool and chat with you,
Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men Your sauciness will jest upon my love
plain dealers without wit. And make a common of my serious hours.
Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost : When the sun shines let foolish gnats make yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity. sport,
Ant. S. For what reason ?
Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you.
Dro. S. Sure ones, then. Or I will beat this method in your sconce.
Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 9 Dro. S. Sconce call you it? So you would Dro. S. Certain ones, then. leave battering, I had rather have it å head. (35 Ant. S. Name them. An you use these blows long, I must get a Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he sconce for my head and insconce it too, or else spends in tiring; the other, that at dinner, they I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I should not drop in his porridge. pray, sir, why am I beaten?
Ant. S. You would all this time have prov'd Ant. S. Dost thou not know?
there is no time for all things. Dro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?
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 't would be a bald conclusion. But, soft! who wafts us yonder ?
Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and
frown, Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once when thou unurg'd wouldst
vow That never words were music 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, or look'd, or touch’d, or carv'd
to thee. How comes it now, my husband, O, 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 mayst thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulf 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 Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious, And that this body, consecrate to thee, By ruffian lust should be contaminate! Wouldst 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 my 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. I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust; For if we two be one and thou play false, I do digest the poison of thy flesh, Being strumpeted by thy contagion. Keep then fair league and truce with thy true
bed ; I live distain'd, thou undishonoured. Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know
you not. In Ephesus I am but two hours old, As strange unto your town as to your talk ; Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd, Wants wit in all one word to understand. Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is chang'd
with you! When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 155 She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.
Ant. S. By Dromio?
Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gen
tlewoman? What is the course and drift of your compact ?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time. Ant. 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. How an she thus then call us by our
names, Unless it be by inspiration ?
Adr. How ill agrees it with your grav ty 170 To counterfeit thus grossly with your sl re, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood Be it my wrong you are from me exemy, But wrong not that wrong with a more con
tempt. 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, brier, 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. What, was I married to her in my dream ? Or sleep I now and think I hear all this? What 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. O spite of spites ! We talk with goblins, owls, and 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 an
swer'st not? Dromio, thou Dromio, 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 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, 't is to an
Dro. S. 'T is true; she rides me and I long '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 laughs 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.
SCENE I. (Before the house of Antipholus of
Ephesus, ANGELO, the goldsmith, and Bal-
excuse us all ;
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. Dro. E.
Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. 16 I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that
pass, You would keep from my heels and beware of Ant. E. You 're sad, Signior Balthazar; pray
God our cheer May answer my good will and your good wel
come here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your
welcome dear. Ant. E. O, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh A table-full of welcome makes scarce one dainty
dish. Bal. 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
Better cheer may you have, but not with better
heart. But, soft ! my door is lock'd. Go bid them let Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gil
lian, Ginn! Dro. 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. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My
master stays in the street. Dro. S. (Within.] Let him walk from whence
he came, lest he catch cold on 's feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there? Ho, open
the door! Dro. S. [Within.) Right, sir; I'll tell you
when, an you 'U tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore? For my dinner. I have
not din'd to-day. Dro. S. (Within.] 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 ? Dro. S. [Within.] The porter for this time,
sir, and my name is Dromio. Dro. 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 hadst been Dromio to-day in my
place, Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass.
Enter LUCE [within). Luce. (Within.) What a coil is there, Dromio?
Who are those at the gate ? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce.
Luce. (Within.) Faith, no; he comes too late ; And so tell your master. Dro. E.
O Lord, I must laugh! Have at you with a proverb - Shall I set in my
staff ? Luce. [Within.) Have at you with another;
that's — When? Can you tell ? Dro. S. (Within.] 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. (Within.] I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. S.
[Within.) And you said no. Dro. E. So, come, help: well struck! there
was blow for blow, Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. Luce. [Within.) Can you tell for whose sake? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luce. (Within.] Let him knock till it ache. Ant. E. You 'll cry for this, minion, if I beat
the door down. Luce. [Within.) What needs all that, and a
pair of stocks in the town?
Enter ADRIANA (within). Adr. [Within.) Who is that at the door that
keeps all this noise ? Dro. S. (Within.) By my troth, your town is
tronbled with unruly boys. Ant. E. Are you there, wife? You might
have come before. Adr. [Within.) 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. 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. [Within.) 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. [Within.] It seems thou want'st
breaking. Out upon thee, hind ! Dro. E. Here's too much“
out I pray thee, let me in. Dro. S. (Within.) 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 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. Ë. Go, get thee gone ; fetch me an
iron crow. Bal. Have patience, sir; 0, 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 wis
dom, 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 band you offer to break in Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it,
And that supposed by the common rout
home And fetch the chain; by this I know 't is
made. Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine ; For there's the house. That chain will I be
stow Be it for nothing but to spite my wifeUpon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste. Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 120 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 expense.
(Exeunt. (SCENE II. The san.e.] Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.
Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband's office ? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot ?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous ? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, I'hen 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
blindness; 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 is 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 conq ers
Ant. S. Sweet mistress, what your name is
else, I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of 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, Smoth'red 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, Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline. 0, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears. Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote ;
Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed I'll take them and there lie,
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 Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not
know. Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your
eye. Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun,
being by. Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will
clear your sight. Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look
on night. Luc. Why call you me love? Call my sister Ant. S. Thy sister's sister. Luc.
That's my sister. Ant. S.
No; 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.
0, soft, sir ! hold yon still. 69 I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [Exit.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. Ant. $. Why, how now, Dromio! Where runn'st thou so fast ?
Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio ? Am I your man? Am I myself ?
Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.
Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself.
Ant. S. What woman's man, and how besides thyself ?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman ; one
that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.
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 (se 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 reverend 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 (1: 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 burns 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 (165 grime of it.
Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend.
Dro. S. No, sir, 't is 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's 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 (115 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 ?
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 (131 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. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, de clining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain ; who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose.