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Come, sister:-Dromio, play the porter well.

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 perséver so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.

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.

[Ereunt.

[blocks in formation]

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: Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop, To see the making of her carkanet, And that to-morrow you will bring it home. But here's a villain, that would face me down He met me on the mart; and that I beat him, And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold; And that. I did deny my wife and house:Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? 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.
Dro. E.

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 an

ass.

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, cox

comb, 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 Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My

door.

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 of

fice 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. Luc. [within.] What a coil is there? Dromio,

who are those at the gate? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luc.

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 Luc. Have at you with another: that's, -When?

my staff

can you tell?

Dro. S. If thy name be called Luce, Luce, thou

hast answer'd him well.

Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us

in, I hope? Luc. 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.
Luc.

Can
you

tell for whose sake? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luc.

Let him knock till it ache. Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the

door down. Luc. 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.

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