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But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this, I pray ;
Where have you left the money that I gave you?

Dro. E. 0,--sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last,
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:
Teil 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.

Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of scason;
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. $. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,
And tell

me, how thou hast disposed thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phønix, Sir, to dinner;
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.

Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me,
In what safe place you have bestow'd my money;
Or I will break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am indisposed :
Where are the thousand marks thou hadst 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,
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.

Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?
Dro. E. Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phænix;
She that doth fast, till you come home to dinner,
And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. 8. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid ? 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, I'll take my heels. (Exit DROMIO E.

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;

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Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin :*
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave;
I greatly fear my money is not safe.



SCENE I.-A public Place.

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.
Luc. O, 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 heaven's eye,
But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
Men, more divine, and masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat’ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of 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 you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.
Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience, unmoved, no marvel though she pause;
They can be meek, that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruised with

adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burthen'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:

* Licensed offenders.

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, but to try;
Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. Adr. Say is your tardy master now at hand ?

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

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?

Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear : Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.

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

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, I prythee, is he coming home? 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 ?
Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure, he's stark mad:
When I desired him to come home to dinner,
He ask'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 thousand marks Í gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; My gold, quoth he:
My mistress, Sir, quoth I; Hang up thy mistress ;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!

Luc. Quoth who?
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 me there.
Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.

Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God's sake, send some other messenger.

Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across.

Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other beating:
Between you I shall have a holy head.
Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy master home.

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

Luc. Fie, how impatience lowereth in your face. Adr. His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.

* I.e. stand under.

Hath homely age the alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it:
Are my discourses dull ? 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?
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 fairt
A sunny look of his would soon repair:
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.

Luc. Self-arming jealousy!—fie, beat it hence.
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere;
Or else, what lets. it but he would be here?
Sister, you know, he promised me a chain ;-
Would that alone alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed!
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 so no man, that hath a name,
But 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.-The same.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS 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, is your merry humour alter'd ?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur? you received no gold ?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phænix ? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me?

Dro. S. What answer, Sir? when spake I such a word ?
Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since.

* Alteration of features.

+ Fairness.


Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent une 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 displeased.

Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein:
What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me.

Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth ? Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that.

[Beating him. Dro. $. Hold, Sir, for God's sake: now your jest is earnest; Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool, and 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, t
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 insconce I it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten?

Ant. S. Dost thou not know?
Dro. S. Nothing, Sir; but that I am beaten.
Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?

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

Ant. S. Why, first,-for flouting me; and then, wherefore,For urging it the second time to me.

Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season ? When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither rhyme nor

reason 2 Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant. S. Thank me, Sir! for what?

Dro. S. Marry, Sír, for this something that you gave me for nothing.

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

Dro. s. No, Sir; I think, the meat wants that I have.
Ant. S. In good time, Sir, what's that ?
Dro. S. Basting.
Ant. S. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.
Dro. S. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.
Ant. S. Your reason ?

Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.

* 1. e. intrude on them when you please. + Study my countenance.

* Fortify.

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