Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noife? S. Dro. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. E. Ant. Are you there, wife? you might have come before. Adr, Your wife, Sir Knave! go, get you from the door *. E. Ant. Go get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow Once, this -your long experience of her wifdom, Plead on her part fome cause to you unknown; And let us to the Tyger all to dinner; * Adr. get you from the door. E. Dro. If you went in pain, mafter, this knave would go fore. Ang. Here is neither cheer, Sir, nor welcome; we would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was beft, we shall have part with neither. E. Dro. They ftand at the door, mafter; bid them welcome hi ther. E. Ant. There is fomething in the wind that we cannot get in. S. Dro Break any thing here, and I'll break your knave's pate. wind; Ay, and break it in your face, fo he break it not behind. S Dro. It feems, thou wantest breaking; out upon thee, hind! E. Do. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray thee let me in. S. Dro Ay, when fowls nave no feathers, and fish have no fin. E. int. Well, I'll reak in; go borrow me a crow. E Dro. A crow without feather, mafter, mean you fo? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather: If a crow help us in, firrah, we'll pluck a crow together. E. Ant. Go, get thee gone, &c. To know the reason of this ftrange restraint. For ever hous'd, where it once gets poffeffion; E. Ant. You have prevail'd; I will depart in quiet, And, in defpight 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 proteft, without defert) Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal; To her will we to dinner. Get you home, And fetch the chain; by this I know 'tis made; Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine; For there's the houfe: that chain will I bestow (Be it for nothing but to fpight my wife) Upon mine hoftefs there. Good Sir, make hafte : Since my own doors refufe to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to fee if they'll difdain me. Ang. I'll meet you at that place, fome hour, Sir, hence. E. Ant. Do fo, this jeft fhall coft me fome expence. [Exeunt The houfe of Antipholis of Ephefus. Enter Luciana, with Antipholis of Syracufe. Ev'n in the fpring of love, thy love-fprings rot? If you did wed my fitter for her wealth, Then for her wealth's fake ufe her with more kind nefs; Or Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth; Muille your falfe love with fome fhew of blindness; Let not my fifter read it in your eye; Be not thy tongue thy own fhame's orator; Being compact of credit, that you love us; When the fweet breath of flattery conquers ftrife. S. Ant. Sweet mistress (what your name is elfe, I Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine), [know not; Lefs in your knowledge and your grace you fhow not Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. Teach me dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy grofs conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, fhallow, weak, The foulded meaning of your words' deceit ; Against my foul'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 pow'r I'll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know, Your weeping fifter is no wife of mine; Nor to her bed no homage do I owe; Far more, far more, to you do I decline. And And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie: Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reafon fo? S. Ant. As good to wink, fweet love, as look on night. Luc. Why call you me love? call my fifter fo. Luc. That's my fifter. S. Ant. No; It is thyfelf, mine own felf's better part : Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my fweet hope's aim, My fole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. Luc. All this my fifter is, or elfe fhould be. S. Ant. Call thyself fifter, sweet; for I mean thee: Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life; Thou haft no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand. Luc. Oh, foft, Sir, hold you still; I'll fetch my fifter, to get her good-will. [Exit. Luciana. SCENE III. Enter Dromio of Syracufe. S. Ant. Why, how now, Dromio, where run'st thou fo fast? I S. Dro. Do you know me, Sir? am I Dromio? am ? am your man I myself? S. Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyfelf. S. Dro. I am an afs, I am a woman's man, and befides myself. S. Ant What woman's man? and how befides thyfelf? S. Dro. Marry, Sir, befides myfelf; I am due to a *Suppofition, for the thing lain open. woman; woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. S. Ant. What claim lays fhe to thee? S. Dro. Marry, Sir, fuch a claim as you would lay to your horfe; and fhe would have me as a beaft: not that, I being a beaft, fhe would have me; but that fhe, being a very beaftly creature, lays claim to me. S. Ant. What is fhe? S. Dro. A very reverend body; ay, fuch a one as a man may not fpeak of, without he fay, Sir reverence: I have but lean luck in the match; and yet is the a wondrous fat marriage. S. Ant. How doft thou mean, a fat marriage? S. Dro. Marry, Sir, fhe's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what ufe 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 Lapland winter : if the lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world. S. Ant. What complexion is fhe of? S. Dro. Swart like my fhoe, but her face nothing like fo clean kept; for why? fhe fweats, a man may go over fhoes in the grime of it. S. Ant. That's a fault that water will mend. S. Dro. No, Sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it. S. Ant. What's her name? S. Dro. Nell, Sir;-but her name and three quarters (that is, an ell and three quarters) will not meafure her from hip to hip. S. Ant. Then fhe bears fome breadth? S. Dro. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip: fhe is spherical, like a globe: I could find out countries in her. S. Ant. In what part of her body stands Ireland? S. Dro. Marry, Sir, in her buttocks; I found it out by the bogs. S. Ant. Where Scotland? S. Dro. I found it out by the barrenness, hard in the palm of her hand. S. Ant. Where France? S. Dro. |