Ant. S. Go, bear it to the Centaur, where we host, And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time: Till that, I'll view the manners of the town, Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, And then return and sleep within mine inn, For with long travel I am stiff and weary. Get thee away. Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit. Ant. S. A trusty villain, sir; that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn, and dine with me? Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. Here comes the almanack of my true date.- The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this, Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. O! sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper. Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now. Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner. For she will score your fault upon my pate. Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger. Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come; these jests are out of season: Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. Dro. E. To me, sir? why you gave no gold to me. foolishness, Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner. My mistress, and her sister, stay for you. Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit. [Exit. SCENE I-A Public Place. Enter ADRIANA, wife to ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and LUCIANA her sister. Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd, That in such haste I sent to seek his master? Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine, and never fret. A man is master of his liberty: Time is their master; and, when they see time, Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more? Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other where ? Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; They can be meek, that have no other cause. Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try.Here comes your man: now is your husband nigh. Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness. Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? Know'st thou his mind? Dro. E. Ay, ay; he told his mind upon mine ear. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning? Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them. Adr. But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems, he hath great care to please his wife. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is hornmad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain ! I mean not cuckold-mad; But, sure, he is stark mad. Dro. E. Quoth my master: I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders; Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home? For God's sake, send some other messenger. Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other beating. Between you I shall have a holy head. Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home. Dro. E. 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 case me in leather. [Exit. Luc. Fie, how impatience lowreth in your face! Adr. His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then, he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not my fault; he's master of my state. I know his eye doth homage other where, Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain: Will lose his beauty: yet though gold 'bides still, Ant. S. 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? That thus so madly thou didst answer me? Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I such a word? Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since. Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt, And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein. What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me. Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth? Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that. [Beating him. Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake! now your jest is earnest : Upon what bargain do you give it me? Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours. Dro. S. 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 else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I beaten? Ant. S. Dost thou not know? Dro. S. Nothing, sir; but that I am beaten. Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore. Ant. S. Why, first,-for flouting me; and then, wherefore, for urging it the second time to me. Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season, When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither rhyme nor reason?— Well, sir, I thank you. Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what? Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something, that you gave me for nothing. Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinnertime? Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his hair that grows bald by nature. Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery? Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man. Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? Dro. S. 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. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more Dro. S. No, sir: I think, the meat wants that I hair than wit. have. Ant. S. In good time, sir; what's that? Dro. S. Basting. Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. Dro. S If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. Ant. S. Your reason? Dro. S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair. Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers, without wit. Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity. Ant. S. For what reason? Dro. S. For two; and sound ones too. Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. Dro. S. Sure ones then. Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. Dro. S. Certain ones then. Ant. S. Name them. Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends in 'tiring; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge. Ant. S. You would all this time have proved, there is no time for all things. Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, e'en no time to recover hair lost by nature. Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover. Dro. S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald followers. Ant. S. I knew, 'twould be a bald conclusion. But soft! who wafts us yonder? Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, 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 would'st Ah, do not tear away thyself from me; As take from me thyself, and not me too. I know thou can'st; and therefore, see, thou do it, I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; Being strumpeted by thy contagion. Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed; I live disstain'd, thou undishonoured. Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not. In Ephesus I am but two hours old, As strange unto your town, as to your talk; Luc. Fie, brother: how the world is chang'd with |