Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Far more, far more, to you do I decline, 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; how, I do not know. 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 night. Luc. Why call you me love? call my sister so. Ant. S. Thy sister's sister Luc. That's my sister. It is thyself, mine own self's better part; 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? * Syren. † Request of Heaven. 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. 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 embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carracks* to be ballast to her nose. Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? * Large ships. 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 assured* 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 arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: and, I think, my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i' the wheel.† Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road; Dro. S. As from bear a man would run for life, Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here; Enter ANGELO. Ang. Master Antipholus ? Ant. S. Ay, that's my name. Ang. I know it well, Sir: Lo, here is the chain; I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine: The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long. Ant. S. What is your will, that I should do with this? Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have: Ant. S. I pray you, Sir, receive the money now, Ang. You are a merry man, Sir; fare you well. * Affianced. † A turn-spit. [Exit. [Exit. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The same. Enter a MERCHANT, ANGELO, and an OFFICER, Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you, Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and DROMIO of Ephesus. Offi. That labour may you save; see where he comes. Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope! Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to you: Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note, Ant. E. I am not furnished with the present money: Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself? * Accruing. Ang. Well, Sir, I will: Have you the chain about you? Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, Sir, give me the chain; Ant. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to excuse Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, Sir, despatch. Ant. E. Fie! now you run this humour out of breath: Ant. E. I answer you! What should I answer you? Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. Offi. I do; and charge you, in the duke's name, to obey me. Either consent to pay this sum for me, Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had! 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. Ang. Sir, Sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, |