Adr. Hence prating peasant! fetch thy master home.

Dr. of Eph. Am I so round with you, as you with

me,

That, like a foot-ball, you do 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 Dromio of Ephesus.

Luc. Fy! how impatience lowereth on your brow! Adr. His company must do his minions grace, While, I at home, starve for a cheerful look.

Do their gay vestments his affections bait?.
That's not my fault; he's master of my fortunes.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? My decayed beauty,
A sunny look of his would soon repair :
But, too unruly deer! he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home: poor I am left despis'd.
Luc. Self-harming jealousy: Fie! beat it hence.
Adr. 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 bracelet:
Some stranger fair hath caught his truant eye,
And triumphs in the gifts design'd for me.
Such trifles yet with ease I could forego,
So I were sure he left his heart at home.
I see, the jewel best enameled

Will lose its lustre: so doth Adriana;

Whom once, unwearied with continual gazing,
He fondly call'd the treasure of his life.

Luc. And still shall call her so; come, be of heart, In sooth, for my sake, sister; 'tis the mere Phantom of your mind-tormenting fancy. Adr. Fancy!

Luc. Aye, fancy-that strange, inexplicableDismiss it, sister.

Adr. Oh, that I could; I'll try; but first

DUET.—(Merchant of Venice.)

I.

ADRIANA. Tell me, where is Fancy bred?
Or in the heart, or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

II.

LUCIANA. It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.

ADRIANA.

Вотн.

Let us both ring Fancy's knell ;

I'll begin it-Ding, dong, bell.

Ding, dong, bell!
Ding, dong, bell!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

THE MART.

Enter Antipholis of Syracuse.

Ant. of Syr. 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.
O! 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 knew no Centaur! you receiv'd no gold!
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner!
My house was at the Phoenix! wert thou mad,
That thus so strangely thou didst answer me!
Dr. of Syr. What answer, sir? when spake I
such a word?

Ant. of Syr. Ev'n now, ev'n here; not half an hour since.

Dr. of Syr. I did not see you, since you sent me hence,

Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.

Ant. of Syr. 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.

Dr. of Syr. I'm glad, to see you in this merry vein;

What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me? Ant. of Syr. What, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth,

Think'st thou, I jest? there take thou that, and that. Dr. of Syr. Hold, sir, for heav'n's sake: now your jest is earnest :

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. of Syr. 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, then know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks.
Dr. of Syr. I pray, sir, why am I beaten?
Dost thou not know?
Nothing; but that I am beaten.

Ant. of Syr.

Dr. of Syr.

Ant. of Syr.

Why, first, for flouting me; and

then, for urging

It, in spite of my assertion to the contrary.

Is dinner ready?

Dr. of Syr. No, sir; I think, the meat wants

Dr. of Syr. Why, basting, sir.

Ant. of Syr. No more, thou knave! for sec, who wafts us yonder:

This way they haste, and by their gestures seem

To point out me.-What should they mean, I trow?

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Aye, aye, Antipholis; look strange and
frown;

Some other mistress hath some sweeter aspect :
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

How comes it now, my husband, O! how comes it,
That thou art thus estranged to thyself?
Thyself, I call it, being strange to me.
O! do not tear thyself away from me;

For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,

And take unmingled thence that drop again,

As take from me thyself.

Ant of Syr. Plead you to me, fair dame? I

know you not:

In Ephesus I am but two hours old,

As strange unto your town as to your talk.

Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is changed with you!

When were you wont to use my sister thus?

She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.

Ant of Syr. By Dromio?

Dr. of Syr. By me?

Adr. By thee; and thus thou didst return from

him,

That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows,