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,
And, therewithal, took measure of my body.
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 apparelled?9

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 killed for the prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

9

What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled?] The allusion is to Adam, in his state of innocence, going naked; and immediately after the fall, being clothed in a frock of skins. Thus he was new apparelled: and, in like manner, the Sergeants of the Counter were formerly clad in buff, or calf's skin, as the author humorously a little lower calls it. These jests on Adam's dress are common among our old writers.

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 rest to do more exploits with his mace, than a morris-pike.'

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!

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,

- he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than a morris-pike.] The rest of a pike was a common term, and signified, I believe, the manner in which it was fixed to receive the rush of the enemy. A morris-pike was a pike used in a morris or a military dance, and with which great exploits were done, that is, great feats of dexterity were shown. JOHNSON.

There is, I believe, no authority for Dr. Johnson's assertion, that the Morris-Pike was used in the Morris-dance. Swords were sometimes used upon that occasion. It certainly means the Moorish-pike, which was very common in the 16th century. See Grose's History of the English Army, Vol. I. p. 135. DOUCE.

The phrase he that sets up his rest, in this instance, signifies only, I believe," he that trusts"-is confident in his expectation. Thus, Bacon: " Sea-fights have been final to the war, but this is, when Princes set up their REST upon the battle." Again, Clarendon : " they therefore resolved to set up their REST upon that stake, and to go through with it, or perish." This figure of speech is certainly derived from the military exercise, as that was the only kind of rest which was ever set up. HENLEY.

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 here.2 Dro. S. Master, if you do expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.3

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?

Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress:

I conjure thee to leave me, and be

gone.

2 — We'll mend our dinner here.] i. e. by purchasing something additional in the adjoining market. MALONE.

if you do expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.] i. e." If you do expect spoon-meat, either stay away, or bespeak a long spoon."

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 paring 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; an' 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. S. and DRO. S.
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 lunatick,
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.

SCENE IV.

The same.

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,

them all.

Ant. E. But where's the money?

will pay

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 returned.

Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome [Beating him.

you.

Off. Good sir, be patient.

·will pay them all.] i. e. serve to hit, strike, correct them all. So, in Twelfth-Night: " He pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on." STEEVENS.