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, e'en 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, I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st VOW That never words were music to thine ear, Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd to thee. How comes it now, my husband, O! how comes it, Am better than thy dear self's better part. Ah, do not tear away thyself from me; As take from me thyself, and not me too. I know thou can'st; and therefore, see, thou do it, I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed; 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 with you! When were you wont to use my sister thus ? Dro. S. By me? 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. 15 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 names, Unless it be by inspiration? Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snail, thou slug, tho Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am I not? Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. grass. 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be, Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. her theme! What, was I married to her in my dream, Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this? I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. Luc. Dromio, go bid the servant spread for dinner. Come, sister.-Dromio, play the porter well. Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? ACT SCENE I.-The Same. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours. Thou drunkard, thou, what did'st thou mean by Dro. E. Say what you will, sir; but I know what That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show: 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, Gin'! 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. 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: Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I hope? Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. S. Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. 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. 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. Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect Th' unviolated honour of your wife. Once this,-Your long experience of her wisdom, Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; For ever housed, where it gets possession. Ant. E. You have prevail'd: I will depart in quiet, For there's the house. That chain will I bestow [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Same. Enter LUCIANA, and AntiphoLUS of Syracuse. Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 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 blind ness; Let not my sister read it in your eye; Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger: Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; Being compact of credit, that you love us; Though others have the arm, show 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. Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,) Less in your knowledge, and your grace you show not, Than our earth's wonder; more than earth divine. 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 yield. But if that I am I, then well I know, 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. O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, 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 It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Luc. O, soft, sir! hold you still: I'll fetch my sister, to get her good-will. [Exit. Enter DROMIO of Syracuse, hastily. 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 besides thyself. 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 reverend body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, sirreverence. I have but lean luck in the match, and yet she is 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 is 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 heir. Ant. S. Where England? |