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A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
After his brother; and importun'd me
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break
We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss,
Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Do me the favour to dilate at full
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,
Ege. O had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily term'd them merciless to us, For, ere the ships could meet by twice five Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day, a Syracusian merchant Is apprehended for arrival here; And not being able to buy out his life, According to the statute of the town Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. There is your money that I had to keep.
Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your
And go indeed, having so good a mean.
Ant. S. A trusty villain, sir, that very oft,
Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
What hath befall'n of them and thee till now.
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Gaol. I will, my lord.
Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. Exeunt.
SCENE II.-The Mart.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, DROMIO of
Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,
40 Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. Exit.
Here comes the almanac of my true date.
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this,
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. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner.
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd. 80 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? Dro. E. 1 have some marks of yours upon my
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders,
SCENE I.-The House of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus.
Adr. Neither my husband nor the slave return'd,
Luc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,
Time is their master, and, when they see time,
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be
Luc. Because their business still lies out o'
Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
There's nothing situate under heaven's eye
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, 60 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:
Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain!
Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
he is stark mad.
Luc. How many foud fools serve mad jealousy!
'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 mis
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 mis.
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
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. 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? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not my fault; he's master of my state: What ruins are in me that can be found By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair; But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale And feeds from home: poor I am but his stale. Luc. Self-harming jealousy! fie! beat it hence. Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere,
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 Iso 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. Lur. Fie, how impatience lowereth in your face!!
Will lose his beauty and though gold bides still,
SCENE II. A public Place.
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
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;
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?
Do use you for my fool and chat with you,
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. 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, wherefore,
For urging it the second time to me.
Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season,
When, in the why and the wherefore is neither I am not Adriana nor thy wife. rime nor reason?
Ant. S. In good time, sir; what's that?
Dro. S. No, sir: I think the meat wants that I have.
Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry.
Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.
An'. 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. Nay, not sound, I pray you.
How comes it now, my husband, O! how comes it,
Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?
80 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.
Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing.
Dro. S. Certain ones then.
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. 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:
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects,
The time was once when thou unurg'd would'st
That never words were music to thine ear,
Ant. S. By what rule, sir?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the By ruffian lust should be contaminate! 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 a periwig and recover the lost hair of another man.
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spura at me,
I live distain'd, thou undishonoured.
Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not.
In Ephesus I am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town as to your talk;
Luc. Fie, brother: how the world is chang'd
When were you wont to use my sister thus ? She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. Ant. S. By Dromio?
Dro. S. By me?
Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping or waking? mad or well-advis'd? Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd! I'll say as they say, and persever so,
Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return And in this mist at all adventures go. 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. Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our
Unless it be by inspiration?
Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood! Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine; Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate: If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am I not?
Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form.
No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang'd 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.
Adr. Come, come; no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep, Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn. Come, sir, to dinner. Dromio, keep the gate. Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day, And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks. Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter, Come, sister. Dromio, play the porter well.
Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate.
Luc. Come, come, Antipholus; we dine too late. Excunt.
SCENE I.-A public Place.
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.
Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know;
That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show :
If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink,
Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
Ant. E. I think thou art an ass.
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
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