Sivut kuvina

Dro. E. Here is too much, out upon thee! 1 pray thee, let me in. Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin.

Ant. E. Well, I'll break in. Go borrow me a crow. Dro. E. A crow without feather; master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather. If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together. Ant. E. Go, get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow. Bal. Have patience, sir. O, let it not be so; Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect The unviolated honor of your wife. Once1 this; your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made2 against you. Be ruled by me; depart in patience, 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 of it; And that supposed by the common rout Against your yet ungalled estimation, That may with foul intrusion enter in, And dwell upon your grave when you are dead. For slander lives upon succession; Forever housed, where it gets possession.

Ant. E. You have prevailed; I will depart in quiet, And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. [ know a wench of excellent discourse,— Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle.—

1 Once this, here means once for all; at once.

2 i. e. made fast. The expression is still in use in some counties.

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,1 I know, 'tis made.

Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine;

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 haste:

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 o/" 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-springs rot?

Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous ? 2 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 blindness; 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;

i By this time.

2 In the old copy the first four lines stand thus:— "And may it he that you have quite forgot A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? Shall love in buildings grow so ruinate?" The present emendation was proposed by Steevens, though he admitted Theobald's into his own text Love-springs are the buds of love, or rather the young shoots. "The spring, or young shoots that grow out of the stems or roots of trees."—Baret.

Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;

Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false; what need she be acquainted?

What 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;

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

Being compact of credit,2 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,3

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 on 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 earthly, gross conceit, Smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,

The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labor 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.4
O, 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,

1 Old copy, not

2 L e. being made altogether of credulity.

3 Vain is light of tongue, not veracious.

4 "To decline; to turne or hang toward some place or thing."—Brnet

« EdellinenJatka »