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Adr. There's none but affes will be bridled fo.

Luc. Why, head-ftrong liberty is lafh'd with woe. There's nothing fituate under heav'n's eye, But hath is bound in earth, in sea, in sky: The beafts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' fubjects, and at their controuls. Men more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wide wat'ry feas, Endu'd with intellectual sense and foul, Of more preheminence than fish and fowl, Are masters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adr. This fervitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Adr. But were you wedded, you would bear fome
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practife to obey. [fway.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel tho' fhe paufe?
They can be meek that have no other cause :
A wretched foul, bruis'd with adverfity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;

But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain.
So thou, that haft no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me :
But if thou live to fee 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.

SCENE II. Enter Dromio of Ephefus.

Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? E. Dro. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witnefs.

Adr. Say, did't thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?

E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told me his mind upon mine ear. Bethrew his hand, I fcarce could understand it.

Luc. Spake he fo doubtfully, thou could'ft not feel his meaning?

E. Dro. Nay, he ftruck fo plainly, I could too well

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feel

feel his blows; and withal fo doubtfully, that I could fcarce understand them.

Adr. But fay, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It feems he hath great care to pleafe his wife.

E. Dro. Why, mittrefs, fure my mafter is horn-mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain !

E. Dro. I mean not cuckold-mad; but fure he's stark When I defir'd him to come home to dinner, [mad: He afk'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;
Where is the thoufand marks I gave thee, villain ?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; My gold, quoth he;
My mistress, Sir, quoth I; Hang up thy miftrefs !
I know not thy miftrefs; out on thy mistress!
Luc. Quoth who?

E. Dro. Quoth my mafter:

I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress;
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, bare home upon my fhoulders;
For, in conclufion, he did beat me there.

Adr. Go back again, thou flave, and fetch him home.

E. Dro. Go back again, and be new beaten home! For God's fake fend fome other messenger.

Adr. Back, flave, or I will break thy pate across.
E. Dro. And he will blefs that crofs with other beat<

ing:

Between you I fhall have a holy head.

Adr. Hence, prating peafant, fetch thy mafter home. E. Dro. Am I fo round with you as you with me, That like a foot-ball you do ípurn me thus? You fpurn me hence, and he will fpurn me hither: If I laft in this fervice, you must cafe me in leather. [Exit.

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Luc. Fie, how impatience lowreth in your face?
Adr. His company muft do his minions grace,
Whilit I at home farve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took

From

From my poor cheek? then, he hath wafted it.
Are my difcourfes dull? barren my wit!
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay veftments his affections bait?
That's not my fault: he's mafter 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 funny look of his would foon repair.
But, too unruly dear, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his ftale.
Luc. Self-harming jealoufy !fie, beat it hence,
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with fuch wrongs difpenfe.
I know his eye doth homage other-where;
Or elfe what lets it, but he would be here?
Sifter, 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 fee the jewel beft enameled.

Will lofe his beauty; and the gold bides still,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold: and fo no man that hath a name,
But falfehood, and corruption, doth it fhame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools ferve mad jealoufy!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Changes to the street.

Enter Antipholis of Syracufe.

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Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful flave
Is wander'd forth in care to feek me out.
By computation, and mine hoft's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I fent him from the mart. See, here he comes.

Enter Dromio of Syracufe.

How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love ftrokes, fo jeft with me again.

X 3

You

You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress fent to have me home to dinner?
My houfe was at the Phoenix? waft thou mad,
That thus fo madly thou didst answer me?

S. Dro. What answer, Sir? when spake I fuch a word?

Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour fince. S. Dro. I did not fee you fince you fent me hence Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. Villain, thou didft deny the gold's receipt; And told'ft me of a mistress, and a dinner; For which I hope thou felt'it I was difpleas'd.

S. Dro. I'm glad to fee you in this merry vein: What means this jeft, I pray you, master, tell me? Ant. Yea, doft thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think'ft thou I jeft? hold, take thou that, and that. [Beats Dro.

S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jest is earneft;

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. Because that I familiarly fometimes
Do ufe you for my fool, and chat with you,
Your faucinefs will jeft upon my love,

And make a common of my ferious hours.
When the fun fhines, let foolish gnats make sport;
But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
If you will jeft with me, know my afpect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks;
Or I will beat this method * in your fconce t.

*Metked, for instruction.

t

your fconce.

SCENE

S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? fo you would leave hattering, I had rather have it a head, an you use these blows long, I must get a fconce for my head, and infconce it too, or elte I fhall feek my wit in my houlders. But, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten ?

Ant. Doft thou not know?

S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten.
A. Shall I tell you why?

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

Ant. Why, firft, for flouting me; and when wherefore, for urging it the fecond time to me.

S. Dro. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season.

When

SCENE V. Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholis, look strange and frown, Some other mistress hath thy fweet afpects:

I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou, unurge'd, wouldft vow
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleafing in thine eye,

• That never touch well welcome to thy hand,

• That

When, in the why, and wherefore, is neither rhime nor reason ?
Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant. Thank me, Sir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, for this fomething that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for fomething. But fav, Sir, is it dinner time?

S. Dro. No, Sir, I think the meat wants that I have.

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

S. Dro. Bafting.

An. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.

S. Dro If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.

Ant. Your reason?

S. Dro. Left it make you cholerick, and purchase me another drybafting.

Ant. Well, Sir, learn to jeft in good time; there's a time for all things.

S. Dro. I durft have deny'd that, before you were fo choleric.

Ant. By what rule, Sir?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself.

Ant. Let's hear it,

S. Dio. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. May he not do it by fine and recovery?

S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the loft hair of another man.

Ant. Why is Time fuch a niggard of hair, being, as it is, fo plen tiful an excrement?

S. Dro. Because it is a bleffing that he bestows on beasts; and what he hath fcanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.

Ant. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit. S. Dro. Not man of those, but he hath the wit to lofe his hair. Ant. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.

S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the fooner loft; yet he lofeth it in a kind of jollity.

Ant. For what reafon ?

S. Dr.

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