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 he's worth to season.

Nay, he's a thief too: Have you not heard men say, That time comes stealing on by night and day? If he13 be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?

Enter LUCIANA.

Adr. Go, Dromio; there's the money, bear it straight;

--

And bring thy master home immediately.Come, sister: I am press'd down with conceit11; Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.

Ant. S. There's not a man I meet, but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend1; And every one doth call me by my name. 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.

13 The old copy reads, "If I, &c."

14 Fanciful conception.

This actually happened to Sir H. Wotton when on his travels. See Reliquiae Wottonianae. 1685, p. 676.

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 paparell'd2?

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 kill'd for the prodigal: he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

Ant. S. I understand 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 rest3 to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike1.

Ant. S. What? thou mean'st an officer?

Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; he, that brings any man to answer it, that breaks his band: one that thinks a man always going to bed, and says, God give you good rest.

Theobald reads, "What, have you got rid of the picture of old Adam? The emendation is approved and adopted by Malone; but I think, with Johnson, that the text does not require interpolation. Malone wished that Johnson had shown how the text is intelligible without it.' The sergeant is designated by the picture of old Adam' because he wore buff, as Adam wore his native buff; and Dromio asks Antipholus if he had got him new apparell'd, i. e. got him a new suit, in other words got rid of him

3 This unfortunate phrase is again mistaken here by all the commentators. It has nothing to do with a musket rest; and the rest of a pike is a thing of the imagination. It is a metaphorical expression for being determined, or resolutely bent to do a thing, taken from the game of Primero. Vide All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 1. vol. iii p. 234, note 22.

4 A morris pike is a moorish pike, commonly used in the 16th century. It was not used in the morris dance, as Johnson erroneously supposed.

Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ship puts forth to-night? may we be gone?

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 deliver 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 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.

Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner here5. Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak 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?

5 Probably by purchasing something additional in the adjoining market.

6 This proverb is alluded to again in the Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2, p. 48:-'He who cats with the devil had need of a long spoon.' 8 Vol. IV.

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 parings 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; and 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. and DRO.
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 doors 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.

[Exit.

In The Witch, by Middleton, when a spirit descends, Hecate

exclaims:

"There's one come down to fetch his dues,
A kisse, a coll, a sip of blood,' &c.

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, That I should be attach'd in Ephesus: I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears.

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

all1.

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 return'd.

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 whoreson, 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.

1 i. e. punish them all by corporal correction.

Falstaff says,

in King Henry IV. Part 1. I have pepper'd the rogues; two of them, I'm sure, I've pay'd.'