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Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. [ Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for


'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 shrive1 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.



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 carkanet,2

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


Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know whatj I know:

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


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

Your hand-writing would tell you what I think.
Ant. I think, thou art an ass.
Marry, so it doth appear
B wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.
Isuld kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that pass,
You would keep from my heels, and be sare of an


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

May answer my good will, and your good welcome


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.

(1) Absolve. (2) A necklace strung with pearls. (3) Dishes of meat. (4) Blockhead. (5) Fool.

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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!"

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.

Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door.

Dro. S. Right, sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore.

Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day.

Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come again, when you may.

Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I owe?

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Luce. Have at you with another: that's,-When? can you tell?

Dro. S. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou hast answer'd him well.

Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us
in, I hope?
Luce. I thought to have ask'd you.
Dro. S.
And you said, no.
Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there
was blow for blow.

Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in.
Can you tell for whose sake?
Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.
Let him knock till it ache.
Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the
door down.

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

Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noise?

Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys.

(6) I own, am owner of. (7) Bustle, tumult.

Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have Pretty and witty; wild, and, yet too, gentle; come before.

There will we dine: this woman that I mean,

Adr. Your wife, sir knave? go, get you from My wife (but, I protest, without desert,)

the door.

Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore.

Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we would fain have either.

Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part' with neither.

Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither.

Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.

Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments were thin.

Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold:

It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.2

Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate.

Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate.

Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir: and words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.

Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking: Out upon thee, hind!

Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray thee, let me in.

Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin.

Ant. E. Well, I'll break in; Go borrow me a


Dro. E. A crow without a 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, fetch me an iron


Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so;
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
The unviolated honour of your wife.

Once this,-Your long experience of her wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, sir, that she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made3 against you.
Be rul'd by me; 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 offer to break in,
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made on it;
And that suppos'd 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:
For slander lives upon succession;

For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession. Ant. E. You have prevailed; I will depart in quiet,

And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse,-

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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 I 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.
Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour



Ant. E. Do so: This jest shall cost me some [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Enter Luciana, and Antipholus of Syracuse.

Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband's office? Shall, Antiphotus, hate,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more

Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blind-


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; Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women! 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;

Comfort my 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 know not,

Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,) Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show


Than our earth's wonder; more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthly gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your word's deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labour you, To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a god? would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know,

Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;

Far more, far more, to you do I decline. O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears; Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote:

(6) i. e. Being made altogether of credulity. (7)Vain, is light of tongue. (8) Mermaid for siren.

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Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie;
And, in that glorious supposition, think
He gains by death, that hath such means to die :-
Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so?
Ant. S. Not mad, but mated;1 how, I do not

Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun,
being by.

Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.

Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on

Late. Why call you me love? call my sister so.
Ant. S. Thy sister's sister.


Ant. S.

That's my sister.


It is thyself, mine own self's better part;
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart;
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim,
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be.
Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife :
Give me thy hand.


O, soft, sir, hold you still; I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will.

[Exit Luciana. Enter, from the house of Antipholus of Ephesus, Dromio of Syracuse.

Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where runn'st

thou so fast?


Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it.

Ant. S. What's her name?

Dro. S. Nell, sir ;-but her name and three quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.

Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth?

Dro. S. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her.

Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland? Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks; I found it out by the bogs.

Ant. S. Where Scotland?

Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness; hard, in the palm of the hand.

Ant. S. Where France?

Dro. S. In her forehead; arm'd and reverted, making war against her hair.

Ant. S. Where England?

Dro. S. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them: but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it.

Ant. S. Where Spain?

Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it, hot in her breath.

Ant. S. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellish'd with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carracks3 to be ballast at her nose.

Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; call'd me Dromio; swore, I was assur'd' to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, from her as a witch: and, I think, if my breast had great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran

Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am

I your man? am I myself?

thou art thyself.

Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself.

Ant. S. What woman's man? and how besides thyself?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee? Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse; and she would have me as a beast: not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim

to me.

Ant. S. What is she?

Dro. S. A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir reverence: I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.

Ant. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage? Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.

Ant. S. What complexion is she of?

Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept; For why? she sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime of it.

Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend.

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not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she
had transform'd me to a curtail-dog, and made me
turn i'the wheel."

Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road;
And if the wind blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this town to-night.
If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
Where I will walk, till thou return to me.
If every one know us, and we know none,
'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife.


Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here;
And therefore, 'tis high time that I were hence.
She, that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor: but her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.
Enter Angelo.

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Ant. S. Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not. Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have:

Go home with it, and please your wife withal;
And soon at supper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my money for the chain.

Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now;
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more.
Ang. You are a merry man, sir; fare you well.
Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell;
But this I think, there's no man is so vain,
That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain.
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
Il to the mart, and there for Dromio stay;
If any ship put out, then straight away.



SCENE I.-The same. Enter a Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer.

Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I have not much impórtun'd you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound

To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,

Or I'll attach you by this officer.

Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself?

Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.

Ang. Well, sir, I will: Have you the chain about you?

Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have;
Or else you may return without your money.
Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the
chain :

Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman,
And I, to blame, have held him here too long.
Ant. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance to


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Come, where's the chain? I pray you let me see it.
Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance;
Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no;

Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you, If not, I'll leave him to the officer.

Is growing2 to me by Antipholus:
And, in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a chain; at five o'clock,

I shall receive the money for the same:
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, and Dromio of

Off. That labour may you save; see where he


Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou

And buy a rope's end; that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out of my doors by day.-
But soft, see the goldsmith:-get thee gone;
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me.
Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy
a rope!
[Exit Dromio.
Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to


I promised your presence, and the chain;
But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me:
Belike, you thought our love would last too long,
If it were chain'd together; and therefore came not.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note,
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat;
The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion;
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more
Than I stand debted to this gentleman;
I pray you, see him presently discharg'd,
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.
Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present

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Ant. E. I answer you! What should I answer you?

Ang. The money, that you owe me for the chain. Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain. Ang. You know, I gave it you half an hour since. Ant. E. You gave me none; you wrong me much

to say so.

Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: Consider, how it stands upon my credit.

Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. Off. I do; and charge you in the duke's name, to obey me.

Ang. This touches me in reputation :Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer.

Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had! Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st.

Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer; would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorn me so apparently.


Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit. Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail:But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer.

Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, bears away: our fraughtage, sir, I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitæ. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land: they stay for nought at all, But for their owner, master, and yourself.

Ant. E. How now? a madman! Why thou peevish sheep,

What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage." (4) Freight, cargo. (5) Silly. (6) Carriage.

Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a One, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel;
A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough;
A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff;'

And told thee to what purpose and what end.

Dro. S. You sent me, sir, for a rope's end as A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that coun


You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.

Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure,
And teach your ears to listen with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight:
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry,
There is a purse of ducats: let her send it;
Tell her, I am arrested in the street,
And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave; be gone.
On, officer, to prison till it come.

[Exeunt Mer. Ang. Off. and Ant. E.
Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where he din'd,
Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband:
She is too big, I hope, for me to compass.
Thither I must, although against my will,

For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. [Ex.
SCENE II.-The_same. Enter Adriana and


Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?

Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no?

Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad, or merrily?
What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face?'

Luc. First, he denied you had in him no right.
Adr. He meant, he did me none; the more my

Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here.
Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn

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First he did praise my beauty; then, my speech.
Adr. Did'st speak him fair?

Have patience, I beseech.
Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,2
Ill-fac'd, worse-bodied, shapeless every where;
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind;
Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.

Adr. Ah! but I think him better than I say,
And yet would herein others' eyes were worse:
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away;4
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do


Enter Dromio of Syracuse.


The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well;

One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to hell.

Adr. Why, man, what is the matter?

Dro. S. I do not know the matter: he is 'rested on the case.

Adr. What, is he arrested? tell me, at whose suit. Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested, well;

But he's in a suit of buff, which 'rested him, that can I tell :

Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the mo-
ney in the desk?

Adr. Go fetch it, sister.-This I wonder at,
[Exit Luciana.
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt:
Tell me, was he arrested on a band?"
Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing;
A chain, a chain; do you not hear it ring?
Adr. What, the chain?

Dro. S. No, no, the bell: 'tis time, that I were

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

And bring thy master home immediately.Come, sister; I am press'd down with conceit; Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The same. Enter Antipholus of Syracuse.

Ant. S. There's not a man I meet, but doth
salute me

As if I were their well-acquainted friend;
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,

Dro. S. Here, go; the desk, the purse; sweet And, therewithal, took measure of my body.
now, make haste.

Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
Dro. S.
By running fast.
Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?
Dro. S. No, he's in tartar limbo, worse than hell:
A devil in an everlasting garment hath him,

(1) An allusion to the redness of the northern
lights likened to the appearance of armies.
(2) Dry, withered.

(3) Marked by nature with deformity.
(4) Who crieth most where her nest is not.

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 apparell'd?

(5) The officers in those days were clad in buff, which is also a cant expression for a man's skin. (6) Hell was the cant term for prison. (7) i. e. Bond. (8) Fanciful conception.

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