Adr. By thee: and this thou didst return from

him,

That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle

woman?

very

words

What is the course and drift of your compact?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our names,
Unless it be by inspiration?

Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity,
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood?
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt1

16

But
wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine 17:

16 i. e. separated, parted. Shakspeare uses the word in the first part of King Henry VI. Act ii. Sc. 4, in a similar sense :And by his treason stand'st thou not attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?

Malone has given an instance of a similar use of the word from a letter of the Earl of Nottingham's in favour of Edward Alleyn: 'Scituate in a very remote and exempte place near Goulding Lane,' &c. So in The Triumph of Honour, by Beaumont and Fletcher: lest for contempt

They fix you there a rock whence they're exempt.'

17 So Milton's Paradise Lost, b. v.:

They led the vine

To wed her elm. She spous'd about him twines
Her marriageable arms.'

Thus also in A Midsummer Night's Dream :~

the female ivy so

Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.'

Mr. Douce observes that there is something extremely beautiful in making the vine the lawful spouse of the elm, and the parasite plants here named its concubines. See also Ovid's tale of Vertumnus and Pomona,

Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, briar, or idle 18 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 theme:

What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd 19 fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
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 20;
If we obey them not, this will ensue,

They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not? Dromio, thou drone 21, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!

21

18 i. e. unfruitful. So in Othello:

antres vast, and deserts idle.'

19 The old copy reads freed; which is evidently wrong, perhaps a corruption of proffered or offer'd.

20 Theobald changed owls to ouphes in this passage most unwarrantably. It was those 'unlucking birds,' the striges or screechowls, which are meant. It has been asked, how should Shakspeare know that screech-owls were considered by the Romans as witches?' Do these cavillers think that Shakspeare never looked into a book? Take an extract from the Cambridge Latin Dictionary, 1594, 8vo. probably the very book he used. Strix, a scritche owle; an unluckie kind of bird (as they of old time said) which sucked out the blood of infants lying in their cradles; a witch, that changeth the favour of children; an hagge or fairie. So in The London Prodigal, a comedy, 1605:-"'Soul, I think I am sure crossed or witch'd with an owl. The epithet elvish is not in the first folio; but the second has elves, which was probably meant for elvish.

21 The old copy reads Dromio, thou Dromio.' The emendation is Theobald's.

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.
Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass.
Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass.
Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be,
But I should know her as well as she knows me.
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:—
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day,
And shrive 22 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. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking? mad, or well advis'd?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd!
I'll say as they say, and perséver 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.

22 i. e. call you to confession,

ACT III.

SCENE I. The same.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of
Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.

Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse
us all:

My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours:
Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop,
To see the making of her carkanet1,

And that to-morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villain, that would face me down
He met me on the mart; and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold;
And that I did deny my wife and house:-
Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?
Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what
I know:

That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show:

If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink,

Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass.

Dro. E. Marry so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.

1 A carcanet or chain for a lady's neck; a collar or chain of gold and precious stones; from the French carcan. It was sometimes spelled karkanet and quarquenet.

Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 'Pray

God, our cheer

May answer my good will, and your good welcome here.

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear.

Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords.

Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.

Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast.

Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing

guest;

But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'!

Dro. S. [within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch 3!

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.

2 A mome was a fool or foolish jester. Momar is used by Plautus for a fool; whence the French mommeur. The Greeks too had uouoc and pooμoç in the same sense.

3 Patch was a term of contempt often applied to persons of low condition, and sometimes applied to a fool. Vide Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iii, Sc. 2.