ACT I. SCENE I.-A Hall in the DUKE's Palace. Ege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more; Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods,- If any, born at Ephesus, be seen Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose; Ege. Yet this my comfort; when your words are done, Ege. A heavier task could not have been imposed, Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable Yet, that the world may witness, that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. In Syracusa was I born; and wed Into a woman, happy but for me, And by me too, had not our hap been bad. With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased, By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamnum, till my factor's death; There she had not been long, but she became And, which was strange, the one so like the other, Of such a burden, male twins, both alike: A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death; Which, though myself would gladly have embraced, Weeping before for what she saw must come, But ere they came.-O. let me say no more! Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so; For we may pity, though not pardon thee. Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst, So that, in this unjust divorce of us, And therefore homeward did they bend their course.- Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full What hath befallen of them, and thee, till now. Duke. Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have mark'd To bear the extremity of dire mishap! And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die :- Jail. I will, my lord. Age. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. SCENE II.-A public Place. [Exeunt. Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and a Merchant. Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum, Is apprehended for arrival here; Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, Mer. I am invited, Sir, to certain merchants, Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself, nt. erchant. Mer. Sr, I commend you to your own con Here comes the almanack of my true date.- Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this, I pray; Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: Dro. E. I pray you, jest, Sir, as you sit at dinner: For she will score your fault upon my pate. Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of Dro. E. To me, Sir? why, you gave no gold to me. Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your felishAnd tell me, how thou hast disposed thy charge, Iness, Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the Home to your house, the Phoenix, Sir, to dinner; [mart My mistress and her sister stay for you. Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou? Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. Dro. E. What mean you, Sir? for God's sake, hold your hands; Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels. Exit DROMIO E If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner ACT II. SCENE I.-A public Place. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave re That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. Luc Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine, and never fret: A man is master of his liberty: Time is their master, and, when they see time, Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more? Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try;- Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain! [mad: Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure, he's stark When I desired him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: "Tis dinner time," quoth I; "My gold," quoth he: "Your meat doth burn," quoth I; "My gold," quoth he: Will you come home?" quoth I; "My gold," quoth he: "Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?" "The pig," quoth I, "is burn'd;" "My gold," quoth he: My mistress, Sir," quoth I; "Hang up thy mistress; I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!" Luc. Quoth who? Dro. E. Quoth my master: "I know," quoth he, "no house, no wife, no mistress;"So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 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. Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me, 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 lowereth in your face! Adr. His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see, the jewel, best enamelled, Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still SCENE II.-The same. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. I could not speak with Dromio, since at first 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. Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt; And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeased. 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 Upon what bargain do you give it me? [earnest: 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. If you will jest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanour to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 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 ensconce 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. Dro. S. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore. Ant. S. Why, first,-for flouting me; and then, For urging it the second time to me. [wherefore,Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season? When, in the why and the wherefore, is neither rhyme Well, Sir, I thank you. [nor reason? 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. E Dro. S. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it. Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting. Ant. S. Well, Sir, learn to jest in good time; there's a time for all things. Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before you were so choleric. Ant. S. By what rule, Sir? Dro. S. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself. Ant. S. Let's hear it. Dro. S. 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? Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for his 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? Dro. 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. Dro. 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. Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity. Ant. S. For what reason? Dro. S. For two; and sound ones too. Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. Dro. S. Sure ones then. Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 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 unurged wouldst vow As take from me thyself, and not me too. 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 unstain'd, thou undishonoured. Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know In Ephesus I am but two hours old, you not: Adr. By thee: and this thou didst return from him,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. Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for her 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? I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. theme: Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner. They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. Dro. S. No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art changed 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. Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? ACT III. SCENE I.-The same. [Exeunt. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR. Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours: Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop To see the making of her carkanet, And that to-morrow you will bring it home. But here's a villain, that would face me down That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to shew: If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. 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. Bal. Good meat, Sir, is common; that every churl affords. [thing but words. Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's noBal. Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. [guest: Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing 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'! 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. 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. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore. [to-day. Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not dined Dro. 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? [Dromio. Dro. S. The porter for this time, Sir, and my name is 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 changed thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. Luce. [Within.] What a coil is there! Dromio, who are those at the gate? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. 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. Have at you with another: that's,-When? can you tell? Dro. S. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou hast answer'd him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I [hope? Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there was blow Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. [for blow. Luce. Can you tell for whose sake? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luce. Let him knock till it ache. [down. Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door 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. [before. Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have come 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. [neither. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part with 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. [cold: Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold. [gate. Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the 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. Dro. S. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray thee, let me in. 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: Once this,-Your long experience of her wisdom, For ever housed, where it once gets possession. I know a wench of excellent discourse,- SCENE II.-The same. Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; And let her read it in thy looks at board: Being compact of credit, that you love us; Though others have the arm, shew 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 |