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E. Dro. Am I so round with you as you with me, That like a foot-ball you do spurn me thus ? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must cale ine in leather.

[Exit. S CE N E III. Luc. Fy, how impatience lowreth in your face ! Ard. His company must do his minions grace, Whilft I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took From my poor check? then he hath walted it. Are my discourses dull? barren my wit ? If voluble and tharp discourse be marr’d, Unkindness blunts it, inore than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not iny fault : he's master of my state. What ruins are in me, that can be found By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair. But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.

Luc. Self-harming jealousy!-fy, beat it hence..
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dií-.

penie.
I know his eye doth homage other-where;
Or else what letts it, but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain;
Would that alone, alone, he would detajn,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I see the jewel best enamelled,
Will lose his beauty; and the gold 'bides still *,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold : and so no man that hath a name,,
But falsehood and corruption doch it shame.

• The Revisal reads thus,

yet the gold 'bides still
That others touch, though often touching will
Wear gold, and so a man thi: hath a name,
By falichood and corruption, doth it Mame..

Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

[Exeunt.

.

SC E N E IV.

Changes to the Street.

Enter Antipholis of Syracuse.
Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur: and the heedful slave
Is wander'd forth in care to seek me out.
By computation, and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the mart. See, here he comes

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix ? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me?
S. Dro. What answer, Sir? when spoke I such a

word?
Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour fince.
S. Dro. I did not see you since you

sent me hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.

Ant. Villian, thou didst deny the gold's receipi,
And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas’d.

S. Dro. I'm glad to see you in this merry vein:
What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me ?

Ant. Yea, dost thou jeer and fout me in the teetb? "Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that..

[Beats Dro. S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jest

is earnest; Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you,

Your fawciness will jest upon my love,
And make a common of my serious hours.
When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport;
But creep in crannies when he hides his beams;
If you will jest with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanor to my looks,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce.

S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head. An you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it too, or elle I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But I pray, Sir, why am I beaten? Ant. Dost thou not know? S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten. Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for they say every why hath a wherefore.

Ant. Why, first, for flouting me; and then, wherefore, for urging it the second time to me. 8. Dro. Was there ever any man thus beaten

out of season, When, in the why, and wherefore, is neither

rhime nor reason? Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant. Thank me, Sir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, Sir, is it dinner-time?

S. Dro. No, Sir, I think the meat wants that I have.

Ant. In good time, Sir, what's that?
S. Dro. Basting
Ant. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.
S. Dro. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.
Ant. Your reason?

S. Dro. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry-basting.

Ant. Well, Sir, learn to jest in good time; there's a time for all things.

S. Dro. I durst have deny'd that;, before you were so choleric.

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Ant. By what rule, Sir ?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself.

Ant. Let's hear it.

S. Dro. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. May he not do it by fine and recovery?

S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the lost hair of another man.

Ant. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?

S. Dro. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts; and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.

Ant. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit.

S. Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair.

Ant. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.

S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity.

Ant. For what reason ?
S. Dro. For two, and found ones too.
Ant. Nay, not found, I pray you.
S. Dro. Sure ones then.
Ant. Nay, not sure in a thing falfing t.
S. Dro. Certain ones ther.
Ant. Name them.

S. Dro. The one to save the money that he spends in tyring; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge.

Ant. You would all this time have prov'd, there is po time for all things.

S. Dro Marry, and did, Sir ; namely, no time to recover hair lost by nature.

Ant. But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover.

S. Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald,

* I suppose we ft.ould read falling. Revisalo

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and therefore to the world's end will have bald followers.

Ant. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion : but, foft! who wafts us yonder ?

S CE N E

Enter Adriana and Luciana. Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholis, look strange, and frown, Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects : I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, wouldstvow, That never words were music to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That touch well never welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-favour'd in thy taste, Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd. How comes it now, my husband; oh, how coines ir That thou art thus estranged from thyself? Thyself I call it, being strange to me : That undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear felf's better part. Ah, do not tear away thyself from me : For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall A drop, of water in the breaking gulph, And take unningled thience that drop again, Without addition or diminishing, As take from me thyself, and not me too. How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious ? And that this body, consecrate to thee, By ruffian lust should be contaminate? Wouldīt thou not ipit at me, and spurn at ine, And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stain'd skin of my harlot-brow, And from my falle hand cut the wedding-ring, And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? I know thou canst; and therefore, see thou do it. I am possess’d with an adulterate blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust*

* Both the integrity of the metaphor, and the word blot, in the preceding line, shew that we should read,

-with the grime of luft i i. e. the stain, smut, Warba

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