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.

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'!

Dro. S. [within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch!8

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.

• Dishes of meat. 7 Blockhead, 8 Fool.

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 wherefóre.

Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not

din'd to-day.

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?"

Dro. S. 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 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? Dromio,

who are those at the gate?

Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce.
Luce.

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?

• I own, am owner of. ■ Bustle, tumult.

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 ?

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.

would fain have either.

Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we

Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part

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 gar. ments 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.3

Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate.

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. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray

thee, let me in.

Dro. S. 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:

If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow to

gether.

3 A proverbial phrase.

Ant. E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron 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 4 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,