ACT II. SCENE I. A publick Place. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd, That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited bim, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner; Good sister, let us dine, and never fret : Time is their master; and, when they see time, more? Luc. Because their business still lies out o'door. Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill. Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will. Adr. There's none, but asses, would be bridled so. Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. There's nothing, situate under Heaven's eye, Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other where? Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; They can be meek, that have no other cause. But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain : So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me: But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 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 could'st 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, Luc. Quoth who? Dro. E. Quoth my master: 1 know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress ;— Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. 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. [me, Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with That like a football you do spurn me thus ? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. [Exit. Luc. Fie, how impatience loureth in your face? Adr. His company must do his minions grace, I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain;- Will lose his beauty: and though gold 'bides still, 1 SCENE II. The same. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid up How now, sir? is your merry humour alter'd? hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. S. Villain, thou did'st deny the gold's receipt; And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein: What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me. Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth? Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that. [Beating him. Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake: now your jest 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, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours. When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams. Dro. S. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head: an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I beaten? Ant. S. Dost thou not know? Dro. S. Nothing, sir; but that I am beaten. Ant. S. Shall I tell you why? Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore. Ant. S. Why, first,-for flouting me; and then, wherefore, For urging it the second time to me. Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season? [rhyme nor reason?When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither Well, sir, I thank you. Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what? Dro. 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 dinner-time? Dro. S. No, sir; I think, the meat wants that I have. Ant. S. In good time, sir, what's that? Dro. S. Basting. Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. Ant. S. Your reason? Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting. |