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.

was blow for blow.

Ant E. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whose sake?
Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.
Luce. Let him knock till it ake.

Ant. E. You'll ery 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.

Ant. E. Are you there wife? you might have come before.

Adr. Your wife, Sir knave! go, get you from

the door.

Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this

knave would go sore.

Ang. Here is neither cheer, Sir, nor we!come; 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.

ro. 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 back, to be so bought and sold.t

Ant. B. 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.

That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are
For slander lives upon succession; [dead:
For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession.
Ant. E. You have prevail'd; I will depart

in quiet,

And, in despight of mirth, mean to be merry.
1 know a wench of excellent discourse,-
Pretty and witty; wild, and, yet too, gentle ;-
There will we dine: this woman that I mean,
My wife (but, I protest, without desert,)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal;"
To her will we to dinner.-Get you home,
And fetch the chain; by this," I know, 'tis
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine; [made:
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:

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 kindess:

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

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 ; [ed? Be secret-false: What need she been acquaintWhat 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; Il deeds are doubled with an evil word. As, poor women! make us not 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 Then, gentle brother, get you in again; [us. Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife : 'Tis holy sport, to be a little vain,§ [strife. When the sweet breath of flattery conquers

By this time.

tLove-springs are young plants or shoots of love. I. e. Being made altogether of credulity. Vain, is light of tongue.

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 not, [divine. Than our earth's wonder; more than earth 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 words' 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 But if that I am I, then well I know, [yield.

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:
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 it how, I do

heart;

It is thyself, mine own self's better part ;
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer
[aim,
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's
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:

There will I love, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
Give me thy hand.

Luc. O soft, Sir, hold you still:
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will.
[Exit. Luc.
Enter from the house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus,
DROMIO of Syracuse.

Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where run'st thou so fast?

Dro. S. Do you know me, Sir? am I Dromio am I your man? am I myself?

Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, 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. 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 buttock's: 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 embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carrack st to be ballast to her nose.

Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Nether

lands?

Dro. S. O, Sir, I did not look so low. To conclude this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; called me Dromio; swore, I was assur'd to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark on my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left and, I think, if my breast had not been made arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed me to a curtail-dog,and made me turn i'the wheel.

since.

Ant. E. You gave me none; you wrong

me much to say so.

Ang. You wrong me more in denying it;
Consider how it stands upon my credit.
Mr. Well officer, arrest him at my suit.
Offi. 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; I would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorn me so apparently.

Offi. 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 you 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

num,

right.

Adr. He meant, he did me none; the more

my spite.

Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here.

Adr. And true he swore, though yet farsworn

he were.

Luc. Then pleaded I for you.

Adr. And what said he?

Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd. of me.

Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might move.

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

Luc. Have patience, I beseech,

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still; My tongue, though not my heart, shall have

his will.

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 acqua-vitæ.
The ship is in her trim; the merry wind [all
Blows fair from land: they stay for nought at
But for their owner, master, and yourself.

Ant. E. How now! a madan! Why thou

peevish sheep,

What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.t

Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for

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
On, officer, to prison till it come. [gone.
Exeunt MERCHANT, ANGELO, Officer,
and ANT. E.

Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where he din'd, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her hus

band:

She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will,

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

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

worse:

One, whose hard heart is button'd up with A devil in an everlasting garment|| hath him A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough: [steel; A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one than countermands [lands; The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dryfoot 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 ar rested, well;