She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no
stomach;

You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this, I pray;

[you? Where have you left the money that I gave Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o'Wednesday last,

To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ;The saddler had it, Sir, I kept it not.

Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust 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.
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your
clock,

And strike you home without a messenger. Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this: Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? Dro. E. To me, Sir? why you gave no gold

to me.

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,

the mart

And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from
[ner;
Home to your house, the Phoenix, Sir, to din.
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer

me,

[ney; In what safe place you have bestow'd my moOr I will break that merry sconce* of yours, That stands on tricks when I am indispos'd: Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon

my pate,

Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, But not a thousand marks between you both.-If I should pay your worship those again, Perchance, you will not bear them patiently. Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; [ner, She that doth fast, till you come home to dinAnd prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. Dro. E. What mean you, Sir? for God's sake, bold your hands; Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit DROMIO, E. Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other,

The villain is o'er-raughtt 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 sucn iike liberties of sin :

[Exit.

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,
ACT II.

SCENE I-A public Place.
Enter ADRIANA, and LUCIANA.
Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave re.
turn'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, [dinner, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to 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

woe.

There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Men, more divine, and 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 un-

Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practice to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other where?

Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.

she pause;

Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though They can be meek, that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burthen'd with like weight of pain, [plain : As much, or more, we should ourselves comSo thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, [me: With urging helpless patience would'st relieve But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

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 is at two hands with ma and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know's thou his mind?

Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine [it. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand

ear:

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning?

Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel is blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I 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 horn-mad.

Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain?

Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure,

he's stark mad:

When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, 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: [he: Will you come home? quoth I; My gold, quoth 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 mistress;

I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress! Luc. Quoth who?

Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain ;---
Would that alone alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed!
I see the jewel, best enamelled, [still,
Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jea-
lousy!
[Exeunt.

Dro. E. Quoth my master: I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.

Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten

home?

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 fairt
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-arming jealousy!-fie, beat it
hence.

Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.

I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; Or else, what lets] it but he would be here?

*Z e. Scarce stand under them.

* Alteration of features.

4 Stalking -..

t Fair, for fairness. i Hinders.

mad,

That thus so madly thou didst answer me? 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. [me. Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's

receipt;

And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.

Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry

vein: [me. What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth?

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?

Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours.* When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, [beams. But creep in crannies, when he hides his If you will jest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanour to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce.

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 insconce 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. Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?

Dro. S. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore.

* I. e. Intrude on them when you please

+ Study my countenance.

A sconce was a fortification.

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 rhyme nor reason?—

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. No, Sir; I think, the meat wants that I have.

Ant. S. In good time, Sir, what's that?
Dro. S. Basting.

Ant. S. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.
Dro. S. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.
Ant. S. Your reason?

Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.

Ant. 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. By what rule, Sir?

I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou unurg'd wouldst
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to
thee.

How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it,

That thou art then estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me;
For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulph,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition, or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Should'st thou but hear I were licentious?
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate?
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,

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 peruke, and recover the lost hair of another man.

Ant. S. Why is time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?

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.

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. 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, 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 concluBut soft! who wafts* us yonder? [sion:

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

[it.

And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?
I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:
For, if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true
I live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured. [bed;
Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know

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.

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 Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. [words 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?

[names,

frown;

Beckons

Usurping ivy, brier, or idle* moss; * Unfertile.

Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for
her theme:

What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy,

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.

Dro. S. O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.

This is the fairy land;-O, spite of spites!We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites; If we obey them not, this will ensue, [blue. They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not? [sot! Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I? Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I.

Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my shape.

Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form.
Dro. S. No, I am an ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an

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.

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. [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-The same. 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,t

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?

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, [think. Your own handwriting would tell you what I 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.

A

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, Sir. and your welcome dear.

Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,

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; [heart. Better cheer may you have, but not with better 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, 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, and 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; [blame. The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle 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, who are those at the gate? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce. Faith no; he comes too late : And so tell your master.

Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh:

what I know:

• Absolve.

my staff?

* Dishes of meat.

A necklace strung with pearls.

tBlockhead.

I own, am owner of

Fool Bustle, tumult

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.

Dre. 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.

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 wili 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

me.

Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour hence.

Ant. E. Do so; This jest shall cost me some expense.

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, hate, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springst

rot?

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

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,

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

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