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Luce. Have at you with another: that's,--| Be rul'd by me; depart in patience,
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.

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

Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there Against your yet ungalled estimation,

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.

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.t

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.

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That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are
For slander lives upon succession; [dead:
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,
And fetch the chain; by this, I know, 'tis
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine ; [made:
For there's the house; that chain will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife,)
Upon mine hostess there: good Sir, make
beste:

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain

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If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate?

Then, 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
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
blindness:

Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger:
tainted;

Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; [ed? Be secret-false: What need she be acquaintWhat simple thief brags of his own attaint? "Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,

Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; And let her read it in thy looks at board:

Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women! make us but believe,

Though others have the arm, show us the Being compact of credit, that you love us; sleeve;

We in your motion turn, and you may move Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

[us.

"Tis holy sport, to be a little vain, Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife: [strife.

When the sweet breath of flattery conquers

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Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, I know not,

Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,) Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show not, [divine. Than our earth's wonder; more than earth Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;

Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother'd 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
But if that I am I, then well I know, [yield.
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.
(), 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 thee, 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
so?

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 where 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

80.

Ant. S. Thy sister's sister.

Luc. That's my sister.

Ant. S. No;

heart;

It is thyself, mine own self's better part;
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer
[aim,
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be.
Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim
thee:

Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
Give me thy hand.

Luc. O soft, Sir, hold you still;
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will.

[Exit Luc.

Enter, from the house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus,
DROMIO of Syracuse.

Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where run'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 be-
sides thyself?

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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 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 reverent 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 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 burn a 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 grime of it.

Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend. Dro. S. No, Sir, 'tis 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 is, 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 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; arm'd and reverted, making war against her hair. Ant. S. Where England?

Dro. S. I look'd 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 ran between France and it.

Ant. S. Where Spain?

Dre. S. Faith, I saw it not; ut I felt it, hot in her breath.

Ant. S. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. S. O, Sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carrackst to be ballast to her nose.

Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?

Dro. S. O, Sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; called me Dromio; swore, I was assur'd; to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark on my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: and, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i'the wheel.§

*Swarthy.
↑ Affianced.

Q q

+ Large ships.
A turn-spit.

Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road;

And if the wind blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this town to-night.
If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
Where I will walk, till thou return to me.
If every one know us, and we know none,
"Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be

gone.

Dro. S. As from bear a man would run for life,

So fly I from her that would be my wife.

[Exit. Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here;

And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence.
She, that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor: but her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.

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now

For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more.
Ang. You are a merry man, Sir; fare you
well.
[Exit.
Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot
tell;

But this I think, there's no man is so vain,
That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain.
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay;
If any ship put out, then straight away. [Exit.

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came not.

Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note, [carrat; How much your chain weighs to the utmost The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion; Which doth amount to three old ducats more That I stand debted to this gentleman; I pray you, see him presently discharg'd, For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present money:

Besides, I have some business in the town: Good signior take the stranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof; Perchance, I will be there as soon as you. Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself?

Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.

Ang. Well, Sir, I will: Have you the chain about you?

Ant. E. An if I have not, Sir, I hope you

have;

Or else you may return without your money. Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, Sir, give me

the chain;

Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long. Ant. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to

excuse

Your breach of promise to the Porcupine:
I should have chid you for not bringing it,
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, Sir,
despatch.

Ang. You hear, how he impórtunes me; the chain

Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch

your money.

Ang. Come, come, you know, I gave it you

even now;

[token. Either send the chain, or send me by some Ant. E. Fie! now you run this humour out

of breath:

[see it. Come, where's the chain? I pray you let me Mer. My business cannot brook this dal

liance;

Good Sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no; If not, I'll leave him to the officer.

Ant. E. I answer you! What should I an

swer you?

Ang.The money, that you owe me for the chain. Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain.

I shall.

since.

Ang. You know I gave it you half an hour | What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face **
Luc. First, he denied you had in him no
right.

Ant. E. You gave me none; you wrong me

much to say so.

Ang. You wrong me more, Sir, in denying it; Consider, how it stands upon my credit.

Mer. Well officer, arrest him at my suit.
Offi. I do; and charge you in the duke's name,
to obey me.

Ang. This touches me in reputation:—
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this officer.

Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had! Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st.

Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him officer; I would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorn me so apparently.

Offi. I do arrest you, Sir; you hear the suit. Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail:

But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer.

Ang. Sir, Sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of

num,

Adr. He meant, he did me none; the more my spite.

Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here.

Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were.

Luc. Then pleaded I for you.

Adr. And what said he?

Luc. That love I begg'd for you, be begg'd of me.

Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might

move.

First, he did praise my beauty; then, my speech.
Adr. Did'st speak him fair?

Luc. Have patience, I beseech.

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still; My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,t
Ill-fac'd, worse-bodied, shapeless every where;
Epidam-Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind;

That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, Sir, bears away: our fraughtage,* Sir,

I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitæ.

The ship is in her trim; the merry wind [all, Blows fair from land: they stay for nought at But for their owner, master, and yourself.

Ant. E. How now! a madman! Why thou peevisht sheep,

What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.

Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for

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You sent me to the bay, Sir, for a bark.
Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more
leisure,

And teach your ears to listen with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight:
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry,
There is a purse of ducats: let her send it;
Tell her, I am arrested in the street,
And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave; be
On, officer, to prison till it come. [gone.
[Exeunt MERCHANT, ANGELO, OFFICER,
and ANT. E.

Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where he din'd, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband:

She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, For servants must their master's minds fulfil.

SCENE 11.-The same. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

[Exit.

Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? [ly? Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad, or merri↑ Carriage.

* Freight, cargo. + Silly.

[one?

Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. Adr. Ah! but I think him better than And yet would herein others' eyes were

worse:

say,

Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.

Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.

Dro. S. Here, go; the desk, the purse; sweet
now, make haste.

Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
Dro. S. By running fast.

Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?

Dro. S. No, he's in tartar limbo, worse than hell:

A devil in an everlasting garment|| hath him One, whose hard heart is button'd up with A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; [steel; A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one than countermands [lands; The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dryfoot well;

One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to hell.T

Adr. Why, man, what is the matter? Dro. S. I do not know the matter? he is 'rested on the case.

Adr. What, is he arrested? tell me, at whose suit.

Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested, well;

But he's in a suit of buff, which 'rested him, that can I tell:

Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in the desk?

An allusion to the redness of the northern lights, likened to the appearance of armies. + Dry, withered.

Marked by nature with deformity.

Who crieth most where her nest is not.

The officers in those days were clad in buff, which is also a cant expression for a man's skin. Hell was the cant term for prison.

Adr. Go fetch it, sister.-This I wonder at, [Exit LUCIANA. That he, unknown to me, should be in debt: Tell me, was he arrested on a band?* Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing;

A chain, a chain; do you not hear it ring?
Adr. What, the chain?

Dro. S. No, no, the bell: 'tis time, that I

were gone.

It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.

Adr. The hours come back! that did I never hear.

Dro. S. O yes, If any hour meet a sergeant, a'turus back for very fear.

Adr. As if time were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason?

Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he's worth to season.

Nay, he's a thief too: Have you not heard men say,

That time comes stealing on by night and day? If he be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in the way, [day? Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a

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As if I were their well-acquainted friend;
And every one doth call me by my name.
Some tender money to me, some invite me;
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses;
Some offer me commodities to buy:
Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, [me,
And show'd me silks that he had bought for
And, therewithal, took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles,
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.

Dro. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled?

Ant. S. What gold is this? what Adam dost thou mean?

Dro. S. Not that Adam, that kept the paradise, but that Adam, that keeps the prison: he that goes in the calf's skin that was killed for the prodigal; he that came behind you, Sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

Ant. S. I understand thee not.

Dro. S. No? why, 'tis a plain case: he that went like a base-viol, in a case of leather; the man, Sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob, and 'rests them; he, Sir, that takes pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than a morrispike.

Ant. S. What! thou mean'st an officer? Dro. S. Ay, Sir, the sergeant of the band; he, that brings any man to answer it, that

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breaks his band: one that thinks a man always going to bed, and says, God give you good rest.

Ant. S. Well, Sir, there rest in your foolery Is there any ship puts forth to-night? may we be gone?

Dro. S. Why, Sir, I brought you word an hour since, that the bark Expedition put forth to-night? and then were you hindered by the sergeant, to tarry for the hoy, Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for, to deliver you.

Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I; And here we wander in illusions: Some blessed power deliver us from hence! Enter a COURTEZAN.

Cour. Well met, well met, master Anti-
pholus,

I see, Sir, you have found the goldsmith now;
Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day?
Ant. S. Satan, avoid! I charge thee tempt
me not!

Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan?
Ant. S. It is the devil.

Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam; and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; and thereof comes, that the wenches say, God damn me, that's as much as to say, God make me a light wench. It is written, they appear to men like angels of light: light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn; Come not near her.

Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, Sir. [here. Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner Dro. S. Master, if you do expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.

Ant. S. Why, Dromio?

Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon, that must eat with the devil.

Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend! why tell'st thou me of supping?

Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress :
I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone.
Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at

dinner,

Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd; And I'll be gone, Sir, and not trouble you. Dro. S. Some devils ask but the paring of

one's nail,

A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone: but she, more covetous,
Would have a chain.

Master, be wise; and if you give it her,
The devil will shake her chain, and fright us
with it.

Cour. I pray you, Sir, the ring, or else the chain;

I hope, you do not mean to cheat me so. Aut. S. Avaunt, thou witch! Come Dromio, let us go.

Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock: Mistress, that you know.

[Exeunt ANT. and DRO. Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad, Else would he never so demean himself:

A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for the same he promised me a chain!
Both one, and other, he denies me now.
The reason that I gather he is mad,
(Besides this present instance of his rage,)
Is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner,
Of his own doors being shut against his en-

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