ACT I.

SCENE I.—A Hall in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke, ^Egeon, Gaoler, Officers, and other
Attendants.
Aige. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall.
And by the doom of death end woes and all.

Duke. Merchant of Syracusa. plead no more.
1 am not partial to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,—
Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives.
Have seal'd hts rigorous statutes with their bloods,
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us.
It hath in solemn synods been decreed.
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more, if any, bom at Ephesus,
Be seen at Syracusan marts and fairs;
Again, if any Syracusan born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies.
His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose,
Unless a thousand marks be levied.
To quit the penalty and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valu'd at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by law thou art condeiun'd to die.

Azge. Yet this my comfort,—when your words are My woes end likewise with the evening sun. [done,

Duke. Well, Syracusan, say. in brief, the cause
Why thou departedst from thy native home.
And for what cause thou cam st to Ephesus.

Aige. A heavier task could not have been impos'd,
Than 1 to speak my griefs unspeakable:
Yet, that the world may witness that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence.
I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy: our wealth increas'd
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum; till my factor's death,
And the great care of goods at random left,
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months old.
Before herself (almost at fainting under
The pleasing punishment that women bear)
Had made provision for her following me.
And soon and safe arrived where I was.
There had ^he not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons; *
And, which was strange, the one so like the other.
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike.
Those,—lor their parents were exceeding poor,—
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed. Alas, too soou.
We came aboard;

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,

Before the always wind-obeying deep

Gave any tragic instance of our harm:

But longer did we not retain much hope:

For what obscured light the heavens did grant.

Did but convey unto our fearful minds

A doubtful warrant of immediate death;

Which, though myself would gladly have embrae'd,

Yet the incessant weepings ofmy wife.

Weeping before for what she saw must come.

And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,

That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to four,

Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.

And this it was,—for other means was none.

The sailors sought for safety by our boat,

And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:

My wife, more careful for thelatter-born.

Had fasten'd him unto a small spare inast.

Such as sea-faring men provide for storms:

To hiin one of the other twins was bound.

Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.

The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,

Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,

Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;

And floating straight, obedient to the stream.

Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.

At length, the sun, gazing upon the earth,

Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;

And, by the benefit of his wish'd light.

The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered

Two ships from far making amain to us;

Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:

But ere they came,—O, let me say no more 1

Gather the sequel by that went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so; For we may pity, though n . t pardon thee.

ALge. O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily tenn'd thein merciless to us 1 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues* We were encounter'd by a mighty rock; Which being violently borne upon^_ Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; So that, in this unjust divorce of us. Fortune had left to both of us alike What to delight in, what to sorrow for. Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the wind; And in our sight they three were taken up By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. At length, another ship had seiz'd on us; And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests; And would have reft the fishers of their prey, Had not their bark been very slow of sail, And therefore homeward did they bend their course.— Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss; That by misfortunes was my life prolong d. To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full What hath bcfall'ii of them, and thee, till now.

Aige. My youngest boy, an I yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother; and importun'd me. That his attendant (tor his case was like,

Reft of his brother, hut retaln'd his name.
Might bear him company in the quest of him:
Whom whilst 1 liibour'd of a love to see,
I h.izarded the loss of whom I lov'd.
Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece,
Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia;
And. coasting honuward, came to Ephesus,
Hopeless to find, yet loth to leave unsought
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death.
Could all my travels w.-.rrant mc they live.

Duke. Hapless .-Egeon, whom the fates have marlc'd
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, mr./ not disannul.
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But though thou art adjudged to the death.
And passed sentence may not be recall'd
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can:
Therefore, merchant. 111 limit thee this day.
To seek thy life by beneficial help.
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum.
And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die.
Gaoler, take him to thy custody

GaoL I will, my lord.

ASge. Hopeless, and helpless, doth -Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A public Place. Enter Antipholus of Syracuse. Dromio of Syracuse, and a Merchant.

Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Enidamnum, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day, a Syracusan merchant Is apprehended for arrival here; And, not being able to buy out his life. According to the statute of the town. Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. There is your money that I had to keep.

Ant. S, Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time: Till that, I'll view the manners of the town. Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, And then return, and sleep within mine inn. For with long travel I am stiff and weary. Get thee away.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. , [Exit.

A>tf. S. A trusty villain, sir; that very oft.
When I am dull with care and melancholy.
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me at tout the town,
And then go to my inn, and dine with me f

Mer. I am invited, sir. to certain merchants.
Of whom I hope to make much benefit;
I crave your pardon. Soon at five o'clock.
Please you, 111 meet with you upon the mart,
And afterward consort you till bed-time:
My present business calls me front you now.

Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,
And wander up and down to view the city.

Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. I Exit.

A nt. S, He that commends me to mint; own content, Commends mc to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water. That in the ocean seeks another drop; Who, falling there to find his fellow forth. Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So 1, to find a mother, and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

/infer Dromio of Ephesus. Here comes the almanack of my true date.— What now? How chance thou art return*d so soont

Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too The capon burns, the pig rails from the spit. Pate: The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell. My mistress made it one upon my cheek: She is so hot, b-cause 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 fn your wind, sir: teTl methis, I pray.

Where have you left the money that 1 gave you?

Dro. E. O,—sixpence, that I had o Wednesday la* 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, (season:

Ant. S. Come. Dromio, come, these jests are out of 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,

And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge, [mart

Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner:
My mistress and hv sister stay for you.

Ant. S. Now, as 1 am a Christian, answer me.
In what safe place you have bestow"d my money;
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours.
That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd;
Where is the thousand marks thou had'st 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,
Perchanceyou will not bear them patiently.

Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou? [ Phoenix;

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

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face. Being forbid 1 There, take you that, sir knave.

Dro. E, What mean you, sir? for God's sake, hold your hands!

Nay, an you will not, sir. III take my heels. [Exit.

Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other. The villain is o'er-raught 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 such like liberties of sin: If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. IH to the Centaur, to go seek this slave: I greatly fear my money is not safe. [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I-—Antipholus's House.
Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'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.
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner.
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 o* door.

Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ilL t Luc. 0, know he is the bridle of your will

Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so.

Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe.
There's nothing, situate under neaven's eye.
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The bensts, the fishes, and the winged fowls.
Are their mules' subjects, and at their controls:
Men. more divine, the masters of all these.
Lurcis ot thfi wide world, and wild wat'ry seas,
in iu'd with intellectual sense and souls,
O." 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 yoivto keep unwed.

Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.

Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some

Luc. Ere lleamlove, I 'll practise to obey, [sway

Adr. How if youx husband start some other where

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

Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she They can be meek, that have no other cause, [pause; A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity. 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 hast no unkind mate to grieve thee. With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me; 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, l>ut to try. Here comes your man; now is your husband nigh. Enter Dromio of Epbesus.

Adr. Say, is yo'r tardy master now at hand?

Dro. E. Nay. he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? Know'st thou his mind t

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

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

Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.

Adr. But say, 1 pr'ythee, is he coming hornet 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 1

Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad;

But. sure, he is stark mad.
When 1 desir'd him to come home to dinner,

he; [tress "My mistress, sir," quoth I: "Hang up thy mis1 know not thy mistress; out on thy nustrcss I" Luc. Quoth who t Dro. E. Quoth my master; "I know," quoth he, "no house, no wife, no mistress." So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders; For, in conclusion, he did beat mc there. Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. pro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten hornet For God's sake, sendsoinc other messenger I Adr. Back, slave, or 1 will break thy pate across. Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other beatBetween you. I shall have a Iioiy head. [ing: Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home.

Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me. That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If J last in this service, you must case mc in leather.

[Exit.

Lite. Fie, how impatience loureth in your face I Adr. His company must do his minions grace* Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age tit* alluring beauty toolc From my poor cheek t then, he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dullt 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 t 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 fair A sunny look of his would soon repair; But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale. And feeds from home: poor 1 am but his stale. Luc. Self-harming jealousy !—fie, beat it hence, Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage other where. Or else, what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promis'd me a cluun:

Would that alone, alone he would detain.
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed I
I see, the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; and though gold bides still.
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold : and no man that hath a name.
By 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 jealousy!

SCENE II.—A public Place.
Enter Antiphokts of Syracuse;
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur: and the heedful slave
Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out.
By computation and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio since at first
I sent him from the mart.—See, here he comes.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
How now, sir I is your merry luimour alter'dt
As you love strokes, so jest with inc again.
[tYou knew no Centaur? You receiv'd no gold f
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner 7
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad.
That thus so madly thou didst answer me t [word?
Dro. S. What answer, sir I when spake I such a
Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half-an-honr
since.

Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence. Home to the Centaur with the gold you gave me.

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

Think'st thou I jest t Hold, take thou that, and that.

[Seating him,

Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake I now your jest is Upon what bargain do you give it me I [earnest:

Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool ami 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.
But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
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 insconcc it too ; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, 1 pray, sir, why am 1 beaten!

Ant. S. Dost ihou not knowt

Dro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten.

Ant. S. Shall I tell you whyt

Dro, S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for they say every why hath a wherefore. Ant. S. Why, first,—for flouting me; and then, hereforc,—for urging it the second time to me. Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out ofseason.

When in the whv and the wherefore is neither rhyme Well, sir, 1 thank you. [nor reason?

Ant. S. Thank me, sir! for what f

Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you gave rae for nothing.

Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, sir, isit dinner-time?

Dro. S. No, sir: I think the meat wants that 1 have*

Ant. S. In good time, sir; what's that t

Drt>. S. Basting.

Ant. S. Well, sir. then 'twill l>e dry.

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

Art. S. Your reasont

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. [so choleric.

Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before you were

Ant. S. liy what rule, sir?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself. Ant. S. Let's hear it.

Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his hair that grows buhl by nature.

An!. S. May he not do it by line and recovery!

Dro. S. Yes, to pay a tine lor a periwig, 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 thai lie bestows on beasts: and what lie hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit. [hair than wit.

Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more

Dro. S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his h.iir.

An!. 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, 1 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 trimming; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge. [is no time for all things.

Ant. S. You would all this time have proved there

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 conclusion. But soft! who wafts us yonder*

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown: Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; 1 am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once, when thou unurg'd wouldst vow 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 1 spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd to thee. How comes it now, my husband, O 1 how comes it. That thou art thus 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 gulf. And take umninglcd thence that drop again, Without addition or diminishing, As take from me thyself, and not me too. How dearly would it toucli thee to the quick, Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious, And that this body, consecrate to thee. By ruffian lust should be contaminate 1 Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me. And hurl the name of husband in iny face. And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow. And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? I know thou canst; and therefore, see thou do it. I am possess'd with an adulterate-blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: For if we two be one, anil 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 bed; I live unstain'd, thou undishonoured.

Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame! I know you In Ephesus I am but two hours old, [not:

As strange unto your town as to your talk;
Who, every word by all iny wit being scann'd,
Want wit in all one word to understand. [y°u '•

Luc. Fie, brother' how the world is chang'd with
When were you wont to use my sister thus!
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.

Ant. S. By Dromio?

Dro. S. By me?

Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return from That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows, [him,— Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. S. Did you converse sir, with this gentlewoman] What is tlie course and drift of your compact?

Dro. S. I, sir! I never saw her till this time.

Ant. S. Villain, thou lieit; lor even her very words Didst thou deliver to me on themart.

Dro. S. 1 never spake with her in all iny life.

Ant. S. How can she thus, then, call us by our Unless it be by inspiration? [names,

Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart ine in my mood!
Bo it my wrong you are from me exempt.
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on tins sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband,—I a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If .uight possess thee from nie, it is dross.
Usurping ivy, briar, or idle moss;
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
What, was f married to her in my dream? {theme:
Or sleep I now, and think 1 hear all this'
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. [dinner.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for

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,— They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.

Luc. Whyprat'st thou to thyself, and answer's! not? Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot I

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.

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

Dro. S. 'Tistrue ; she rides me, and I longforgrass.
*Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be.
But I should know her, as well as she knows ine.

Adr. Come, come; no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye and weep.
Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn.
Come, sir, to dinner.—Dromio, keep the gate.
Husl>and, 1*11 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. [Aside.] Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking? mad or well-advis'd?
Known unto these, and to inyseit disguis'd I
111 say as they say, and persever 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 lit.

SCENE l.—T/ie Same.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, Dromio of Ephesus, Angelo, and Balthazar.

A nt. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse ns all J My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours; Say that I linger'd with yor. at your shop To see the making of her c.irkanct And that to-inorrow you will bring it home. But here's a villain, that would face me down He met me on the mart, nnd that I beat him. And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold, And that 1 did deny my wife and house.— Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?

Dro./i. Say what you will,sir, but I know what J know; That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show: If the .skin were parchment, and the blows you gav« were ink.

Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Ant. /:'. I think thou art an ass.

Dro. /:". Marry, so it doth appear

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows 1 bear.

I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass. You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass, A>it. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: pray God, our cheer

May answer my good-will.and your good welcome here. lial. 1 hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear.

Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table fail of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bat. Good meat, sir, is common; and every churl aliords. [ihiv.g but words.

Ant. E, And welcome more common; for that's noBal. Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. [guest. Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing But though my catesbeinean, take them in good part; Belter cheer inayyou have, but not with better heart. But soft 1 my door is lock'd.—Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian. Cicely, GUiian.Ginn! Dro. S. \lVithut.\ Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch 1 Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch. Uoit thou conjure for wenches, that thou calt'st for such store, [door. When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the Dro. E. What patch is made our porter ?— My master stays in the street. [catch cold on's feet.

Dro. S. Let hiinwalk from whence he came, lest he Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho! op'n the door. Dro. S. Right, sir; I'll tell you when, an' you 'il tell me wherefore. [to-day. Ant.E. Wherefore I for my dinner: I have not din d Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not, come again when you may. [house 1 owe I

Ant. What art thou that keep'st me out from the Dro. S. [H'it/iin.) The porter for this time, sir;

and my name is Dromlo. [and my name; Dro. E. O villain I thou hast stolen both mine oiftce The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou hadst been Droinio to-day in my place. Thou would St have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. Luce, [it'ithin.] What a coil is there I 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

Have at you with a proverb;—Shall I set in my staff i Luce. Have at you with another: that's—when? can yon tell?

Dro. S. \ivitkin.\ If thy name be called Luce,— Luce, thou hast answered him well. [I hope? 4nt. E. Do you hear, you minion? you '11 let us in,

Luce. tlVithiu.] I thought to have ask'd you.

Dro. S. \Withtn.\ And you said no.

Dro. E. So, come, help !—well struck! there was

Ant. E, Thou baggage, let me in. [blow for blow.

Luce. Can you tell for whose sake?

Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.

Luce. Let him knock till it ache.

A tit. E. You 11 cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.

Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in

the town? [all this noise?

Adr. [IVithm.) Who is that at the door that keeps Dro. S. [Wit/tin.'] By my troth your town is troubled

with unruly boys. [before. Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have come Adr. Your wife, sir knave! go, getyou'fromthc door. Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave

would go sore. [would fain have either.

Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we Bal. In debating which».was best, we shall part with

neither. [welcome hither.

Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid them Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we

cannot get in. [were thin.

Dro. E. You would say so, master, if yourgarments Yeur cake here is warm within ; you stand here in the

cold: [and sold.

It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought Ant. E. Go fetch me something: I '11 break ope the

gate. [knave's pate.

Dro.S. Break any breaking here, and I'llbreakyour Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir ; and

words are but wind: Ay, and break it in youi iaec, so he brw»k it not behind.

Dro. S. It seems thou want'st breaking: Out upon thee, hind! [pray thee, let me in,

Dro. E. Here's too much "out upon thee!" I Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no tin.

Ant. E. Well, Ml 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; letch me an iron crow.

Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be sot
Herein you war against your reputation.
And draw within the couipass of suspect
The unviolated honour ofyour wife.
Uace this,—Your long experience of her wisdom.
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doLibt not, sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made against you.
Be rul'd by nie: 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 otfer to break in.
Now in the stirring passage of the (lay,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And tiiat 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 t
For slander lives upon succession, .
For ever housed, where it gets possession.

Ant.E. You have prevail'd: I will depart in quiet*
And, in despite 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 1 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.

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

Ant.E. Doso. Thisjestshallcostmesoineexpcnse.

{Exeunt.

SCENE II.— The Same.
Enter Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse.

Lite. And may it be that you have quite forgot

A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?

Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth.

Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindOr, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth j [ness.

Mume 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;
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 1 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 us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

Comiort nty 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

Nor by what wonder you do hit ofmine,— [know not. Less in your knowledge <ind your i;racc you show not

Than our earth's wonder; more than earth divine. Teac h me, dear creature, how to think and speak; I Lay open to my earthy gross conceit.