Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut For the remembrance of my father's death. KING. If this, or more than this, I would deny, With three-fold love I wish you all these three. DUM. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? DUM. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. LONG. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. MAR. The liker you; few taller are so young. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue BIRON. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. PRIN. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the KING. KING. No, madam, we will bring you on your way. BIRON. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. THE SONG. I. SPRING. When daises pied, and violets blue, Cuckoo, cuckoo-O word of fear, II. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer-smocks, Cuckoo, cuckoo-O word of fear, III. KING. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a WINTER. When icicles hang by the wall, day, And then 't will end. BIRON. That 's too long for a play. Enter ARMADO. ARM. Sweet majesty vouchsafe mePRIN. Was not that Hector? DUM. The worthy knight of Troy. ARM. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. KING. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. [Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, This side is Hiems, winter: this Ver, the spring: the And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in fail, Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, ARM. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt. Enter DUKE, EGEON, GAOLER, OFFICER and other ATTENDANTS. EGE. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, DUKE. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more; Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke, It hath in solemn synods been decreed, Both by the Syracusians and ourselves, DUKE. Well, Syracusian, say in brief the cause EGE. A heavier task could not have been impos, ÆGE. Yet this my comfort; when your words are By prosperous voyages I often made My woes end likewise with the evening sun. To Epidamnum, till my factor's death, The pleasing punishment that women bear) And soon and safe arrived where I was. There had she not been long, but she became A joyful mother of two goodly sons; And, which was strange, the one so like the other, That very hour, and in the self-same inn, A poor mean woman was delivered Of such a burden-male twins, both alike. Those for their parents were exceeding poor I bought, and brought up to attend my sons. My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, Made daily motions for our home return. Unwilling I agreed-alas! too soon we came aboard: Before the always-wind-obeying deep Gave any tragic instance of our harm; But longer did we not retain much hope; For what obscured light the heavens did gran+ Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death; Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'd, Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before for what she saw must come, The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered DUKE. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so; For we may pity, though not pardon thee. ÆGE. 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; Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests; Had not their bark been very slow of sail; And therefore homeward did they bend their course. Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss ; That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd, To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. DUKE. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full, What hath befall'n of them and thee till now. EGE. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother; and importun'd me DUKE. Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have mark'd To bear the extremity of dire mishap ! And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die :- SCENE II.-A Public Place. And then return, and sleep within mine inn; For with long travel I am stiff and weary. Get thee away. DRO. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit DRO. S. ANT. S. A trusty villain, sir; that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn, and dine with me? MER. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit; I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, And afterward consort with you till bed-time: My present business calls me from you now. ANT. S. Farewell till then; I will go lose myself, And wander up and down to view the city. MER. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit MERCHANT. ANT. S. He that commends me to mine own content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. Here comes the almanack of my true date.- The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit; Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, a MERCHANT. Are penitent for your default to-day. ANT. S. Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, I pray Where have you left the money that I gave you? To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper- ANT. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: DRO. E. O sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last. ANT. S. Go, bear it to the Centaur, where we host, | We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. So great a charge from thine own custody? DRO. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner: I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed, For she will score your fault upon my pate. ANT. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season; Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. DRO. E. To me, sir? Why, you gave no gold to me. ANT. S. Come on, sir knave; have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. DRO. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart, Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner; ANT. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders; DRO. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress, at the She that doth fast till you come home to dinner. 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 DRO. E ANT. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain is o'erraught of all my money. They say this town is full of cozenage; As nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind, Soul-killing witches, that deform the body, Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many such like liberties of sin. If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave; I greatly fear my money is not safe. 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 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, They'll go or come: If so, be patient, sister. ADR. Why should their liberty than ours be 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 will be bridled so. Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. There's nothing situate under heaven's eye But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subjects, and at their controls. Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world and wild wat'ry seas, Indued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords; Then let your will attend on their accords. ADR. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. ACT I I. SCENE I.-A Public Place. LUC. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. ADR. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practice to obey. They can be meek that have no other cause. Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try. Here comes your man-now is your husband nigh. Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. ADR. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? DRO. E. Nay, he's 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; he told his mind upon mine ear. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. LUC. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning? DRO. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully that 1 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 hornmad. ADR. Horn-mad, thou villain? DRO. E. I mean not, cuckold-mad; But sure he is stark mad. When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, DRO. E. Quoth my master : I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress |