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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, 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 office
and my name;

The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.
If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place,
Thou wouldst 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:

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Have at you with a proverb.- Shall I set in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another: that's, When? 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?

Luce. I thought to have ask'd you.

Dro. S. And you said, no.

Ant. E. Go,fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate.

Dro. S. Break any thing here, and I'll break your
knave's pate.

Dro. E. A man may break a word with
words are but wind;

you, sir; and 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.

Ant. E. Well, I'll break in; go, borrow me a crow!
Dro.E.A crow without a 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 honour of your wife.
Once 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 made against you.
Be rul'd 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 on 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;

Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there was For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession.

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 ache!

Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.

Luce. What needs all this, 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

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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 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 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 expence.
[Exeunt.

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Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger:
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;
Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
We in your motion turn, and you may move as.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife! 'Tis holy sport, to be a little vain,

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, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul'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 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.
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,
And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie,
And, in that glorious supposition, think,
He gains by death, that hath such means to die :-
Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so?
Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
Luc. It is a fault, that springeth from your eye.
Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear your
sight.

Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
Luc. Why call you me love? call my sister so!
Ant. S. Thy sister's sister.

Luc. That's my sister.

Ant. S. No;

It is thyself, mine own self's better part;
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart;
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim,
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim!
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be.
Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee:
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife :
Give me thy haud!

Luc. O, soft, sir, hold you still !
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [Exit Luc.
Enter, from the house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus,
DROMIO af Syracuse.

Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where run'st thou so fast?

Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am your man? am I myself?

I

Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.

I

Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself.

Ant. S. What woman's man? and how besides thyself?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim, as you would lay to your horse; and she would have me as a beast: not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. Ant. S. What is she?

Dro. S. A very reverent body; ay, such a one, as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir-reverence: I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.

Ant. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage? Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not, what use 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 Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer, than the whole world.

Ant. S. What complexion is she of?

Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept; for why? she sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime of it.

Ant. S. That's a fault, that water will mend.

Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it.

Ant. S. What's her name?

Dro. S. Nell, sir;-but her name and three quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.

Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth?

Dro. S. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her.

Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland? Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks; I found it out by the bogs.

Ant. S. Where Scotland?

Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness; hard, in the palm of the hand.

Ant. S. Where France?

Dro. S. In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her hair.

Ant. S. Where England?

Dro. S. I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them; but I guess, it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. Ant. S. Where Spain?

Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it, hot in her breath.

Ant. S. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carracks, to be ballast at her nose.

Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me, called me Dromio, swore, I was assured to her, told me, what privy marks I had about me, as the mark on my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: and, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed me to a curtaildog, and made me turn i'the wheel.

Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road!

And if the wind blow any way from shore,

will not harbour in this town to-night.

If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
Where I will walk till thou return to me.
If every one know us, and we know none,
'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her, that would be my wife.

[Exit.

Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here;
And therefore 'tis high time, that I were hence.
She, that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor: but her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,

I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.
Enter ANGELO.

Ang. Master Antipholus?

Ant. S. Ay, that's my name.

Ang. I know it well, sir: lo, here is the chain:
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine:
The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.
Ant. S. What is your will, that I shall do with this?
Ang.What please yourself,sir; I have made it for you.
Ant. S. Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not.
Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have:
Go home with it, and please your wife withal;
And soon at supper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my money for the chain.

Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now,
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more.
Ang. You are a merry man, sir; fare you well![Exit.
Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell:
But this I think, there's no man is so vain,
That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain.
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay;
If any ship put out, then straight away!

АСТ IV.

SCENE I.-The sume.

[Exit.

Enter a Merchant, ANGELO, and an Officer.
Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I have not much impórtun'd you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want gilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or I'll attach you by this officer.

Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus:
And in the instant, that I met with you,
He had of me a chain; at five o'clock,
I shall receive the money for the same:
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and DROMIO of Ephe-

sus.

Off. That labour may you save; see where he comes.
Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou
And buy a rope's end; that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out of my doors by day.
But soft, I see the goldsmith: - get thee gone;
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me!
Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope!
[Exit Dromio.
Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to you.
I promised your presence, and the chain;
But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me.
Belike, you thought, our love would last too long,
If it were chain'd together, and therefore came not.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note,

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How much your chain weighs to the utmost carrat;
The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion;
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more,
Than I stand debted to this gentleman.

I pray you, see him presently discharg'd;
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.

Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present money;
Besides, I have some business in the town:
Good signior, take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof!
Perchance, I will be there as soon as you.

Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself?
Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not time
enough.

Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you?
Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have;
Or else you may return without your money.
Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain!
Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman,
And I, to blame, have held him here too long.
Ant. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porcupine:
should have chid you for not bringing it,
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
Mer. The hour steals on: I pray you, sir, dispatch.
Ang. You hear how he impórtunes me; the chain -
Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your
money!

I

Ang. Come, come, you know, I gave it you even now;
Either send the chain, or send me by some token!
Ant. E. Fye! now you run this humour out of breath:
Come, where's the chain? I pray you, let me see it.
Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance:
Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no;
If not, I'll leave him to the officer.

Ant. E. I answer you! What should I answer you?
Ang. The money, that you owe me for the chain.
Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain.
Ang. You know, I gave it you half an hour since.
Ant. E. You gave me none; you wrong me much to
say so.

Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it :
Consider, how it stands upon my credit.

Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit!

Off. I do; and charge you, in the duke's name, to obey me.

Ang. This touches me in reputation:

Either consent to pay this sum for me,

Or I attach you by this officer.

Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had!
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st.
Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer!-
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorn me so apparently.
Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit.
Ant. E. Ido obey thee, till I give thee bail:-
But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear,
As all the metal in your shop will answer.
Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame, Idoubt it not.

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Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum,
That stays but till her owner comes aboard,
And then, sir, bears away: our fraughtage, sir,
have convey'd aboard; and I have bought
The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae.
The ship is in her trim; the merry wind
Blows fair from land. They stay for nought at all,
But for their owner, master, and yourself.
Ant. E. How now! a madman? Why, thou peevish
sheep,

What ship of Epidamnum stays for me?

Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.
Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope,
And told thee, to what purpose, and what end.
Dro. S. You sent me, sir, for a rope's end as soon:
You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.

Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure,
And teach your ears to listen with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight;
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry,
There is a purse of ducats; let her send it!
Tell her, I am arrested in the street,
And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave; be gone!
On, officer, to prison, till it come!

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[Exeunt Merchant, Angelo, Officer, and
Antipholus E.

Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where we din'd,
Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband:
She is too big, I hope, for me to compass.
Thither I must, although against my will;
For servants must their master's minds fulfil.

SCENE II.-The same.
Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye,
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no?

[Exit.

Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad, or merrily?
What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face?

Luc. First, he denied, you had in him no right.

Adr. He meant, he did me none; the more my spite. Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here. dr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he

were.

Luc. Then pleaded I for you.

Adr. And what said he?

Luc. That love, I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me. Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might move. First, he did praise my beauty; then, my speech. Adr. Did'st speak him fair?

Luc. Have patience, I beseech.

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still; My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-fac'd, worse-bodied, shapeless every where; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one? No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.

Adr. Ah! but I think him better, than I say,

And yet would herein others' eyes were worse: Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse. Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.

Dro. S. Here, go; the desk, the purse; sweet now, make haste!

Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?

Dro. S. By running fast.

Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?
Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell:

A devil in an everlasting garment hath him,
One, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel;

A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough;

A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff;

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Adr. Go fetch it, sister! This I wonder at,

[Exit Luciana. That he, unknown to me, should be in debt:Tell me, was he arrested on a band? Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing, | A chain, a chain; do you not hear it ring? Adr. What, the chain?

Dro. S. No, no, the bell: 'tis time, that I were gone. It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one. Adr. The hours come back! that did I never hear. Dro. S. O yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, a' turns back for very fear.

Adr. As if time were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason?

Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more, than

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Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. Ant. S. There's not a man I meet, but doth salute me, And every one doth cali me by my name. As if I were their well-acquainted friend; Some tender money to me, some invite me; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; Some offer me commodities to buy: Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, And show'd me silks, that he had bought for me, And, therewithal, took measure of my body. Sure these are but imaginary wiles,

And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.

Dro. S. Master, here's the gold, you sent me for: What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparell'd?

Ant. S. What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean?

Dro. S. Not that Adam, that kept the paradise, but that Adam, that keeps the prison: he, that goes in the calf's-skin, that was killed for the prodigal; he, that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

Ant. S. I undersand thee not.

Dro. S. No? why, 'tis a plain case: he that went like a base-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob, and 'rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of durance; he, that sets up his

A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one, that coun-rest to do more exploits with his mace, than a mortermands

The passages ofalleys, creeks and harrow lands;

A hound, that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well;

One that, before the judgement, carries poor souls to hell.

ris-pike.

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I

Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is That I should be attach'd in Ephesus:
there any ship, puts forth to-night? may we be gone? tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears.
Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since,
that the bark Expedition put forth to-night; and then
were you hindered by the sergeant, to tarry for the hoy,
Delay: here are the angels that you sent for, to deli-
ver you.

Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I;
And here we wander in illusions;

Some blessed power deliver us from hence!
Enter a Courtezan.

Cour. Well met, well met, master Antipholus !
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now:
Is that the chain, you promis'd me to-day?
Ant. S. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not!
Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan?
Ant. S. It is the devil.

Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam;
and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; and
thereof comes, that the wenches say, God damn me,
that's
's as much as to say, God make me a light wench.
It is written, they appear to men like angels of light:
light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light
wenches will burn; come not near her!

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus, with a rope's end.
Here comes my man; I think, he brings the money.
How now, sir? have you that, I sent you for?
Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all.
Ant. E. But where's the money?

Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.
Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope?
Dro. E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate.
Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?
Dro. E. To a rope's end, sir; and to that end am I
returned.

Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.
[Beating him.

Off. Good sir, be patient!

Dro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient; I am in adversity.

Off. Good now, hold thy tongue!
Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands!
Ant. E. Thou whores on, senseless villain!
Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not
feel your blows.

Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass.

Dro. E. Jam an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my

Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir.
Willyou go with me? We'll mend our dinner here.
Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or be-long ears. I have served him from the hour of my nati-
speak a long spoon.

Ant. S. Why, Dromio?

Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon, that must

eat with the devil.

Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me of supping?

Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress:

I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone.

Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain, you promis'd;
And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Dro. S. Some devils ask but the paring of one's nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,

A nut, a cherry-stone; but she, more covetous,
Would have a chain.

Master, be wise; an' if you give it her,

The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it,
Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain!
I hope, you do not mean to cheat me so.
Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us go!
Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock: mistress, that
you know.
[Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S.
Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad,
Else would he never so demean himself.
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for the same he promis'd me a chain;
Both one, and other, he denies me now.
The reason, that I gather, he is mad,
(Besides this present instance of his rage,)
Is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner,

Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.
Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the door against his way.
My way is now, to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that, being lunatic,
He rush'd into my house, and took perforce
My ring away: this course I fittest choose;
For forty ducats is too much to lose.

SCENE IV. - The same.

vity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for
my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me
with beating: when I am warm, he cools me with beat-
ing. I am waked with it, when I sleep; raised with it,
when I sit; driven out of doors with it, when I go from
home; welcomed home with it, when I return: nay,
bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and,
I think, when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from
door to door.

Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, and the Courtezan, with
PINCH, and Others.

I

Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder. Dro. E. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, Beware the rope's end.

Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk?

[Beats him.
Cour. How say you now? is not your husband mad?
Adr. His incivility confirms no less.-
Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer;
Establish him in his true sense again,
And I will please you, what you will demand.
Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks!
Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his ecstacy!
Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse!
Ant E. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.
Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight;

I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven.
Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am not mad,
Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul!
Ant. E. You, minion, you, are these your customers?
Did this companion with the saffron face
Revel and feast it at my house to-day,
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house?

Adr. O, husband, God doth know, you din'd at home,
[Exit. Where 'would you had remain'd until this time,
Free from these slanders, and this open shame!

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and an Officer.
Ant. E. Fear me not, man, I will not break away;
I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money
To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for.
My wife is in a wayward mood to-day,

And will not lightly trust the messenger,

Ant. E. I din'd at home! Thou villain, what say'st
thou?

Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home.
Ant.E.Were not my doors lock'd up, and I shut out?
Dro. E. Perdy, your doors were lock'd, and you shut

out.

Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there?

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