The dramatic works of William Shakspere, from the text of Johnson, Stevens [sic] & Reed, with glossarial notes, his life, etc. by N. Rowe

She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no
stomach;

You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this,
I pray ;

[you? Where have you left the money that I gave Dro. E. 0,—sixpence, that I had o'Wednesday last,

To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ;-
The saddler had it, Sir, I kept it not.

Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody?
Dro. E. I pray yon, jest, Sir, as you sit at

dinner:

I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed;

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:
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?
Dro. E. To me, Sir? why you gave no gold

to me.

slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; [ner, She that doth fast, till you come home to dinAnd prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto
my face,

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.
Dro. E. What mean you, Sir? for God's sake,
hold your hands;
Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels.
[Exit DROMIO, E.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or

other,

The villain is o'er-raughtt of all my money.
They say, this town is full of cozenage;

As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin :

Enter ADRIANA, and LUCIANA.
Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave re.
turn'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,
[dinner,
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret:
A man is master of his liberty:
Time is their master; and, when they see time,
They'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister.
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be

more?

Luc. Because their business still lies out

o'door.

Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it
ill.

Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled

So.

Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with

woe.

There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
Men, more divine, and masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep un-

wed.

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 practice 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 They can be meek, that have no other cause. she pause; A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burthen'd with like weight of pain, [plain : As much, or more, we should ourselves comSo thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, [me: With urging helpless patience would'st relieve But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

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 ma
and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know's
thou his mind?

Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine [it. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand

ear:

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 horn-mad.

Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain?

Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure,

The pig, quoth I, is burn'd ; My gold, quoth he: My mistress, Sir, quoth I; Hang up thy mistress;

I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress! Luc. Quoth who?

Dro. E. Quoth my master:

[tress;

Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain;--
Would that alone alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed!
I see the jewel, best enamelled, [still,
Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
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 jea-
lousy!
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.

Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave [up 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?

I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mis-Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? So that my errand, due unto my tongue, My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders; mad, For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 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,

hat like a football do you 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 lowereth in your face.

Adr. His company must do his minions grace,

Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age the 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:
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures: My decayed fairt
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-arming jealousy!-fie, beat it
hence.

Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.

I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; Or else, what lets it but he would be here?

That thus so madly thou didst answer me? Dro. S. What answer, Sir? when spake I

such a word?

and that.

Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou 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.* When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, [beams. But creep in crannies, when he hides his If you will jest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanour to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce.

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. Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?

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

* I. e. Intrude on them when you please.

+ Study my countenanor.

A sconce was a fortification

Ant. S. Why, first,-for flouting me; and | Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects, 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 nei-
ther 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 dinner-time?

Dro. S. No, Sir; I think, the meat wants
that I 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. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.

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

Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before you were so choleric.

Ant. S. By what rule, Sir?

I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou unurg'd wouldst
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to
thee.

How comes it now, my husband, oh, how
comes it,

That thou art then estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self'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 unmingled thence 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,
Should'st thou but hear I were licentious?
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate?
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,

Dro. S. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, plain bald pate of father Time himself.

Ant. S. Let's hear it.

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 peruke, 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 hair than wit.

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, 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 concluBut soft! who wafts* us yonder? [sion:

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?
I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; [it.
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:
For, if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true
I live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured. [bed;
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;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd,
Want wit in all one word to understand.

Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is chang'd

with you:

When were you wont to use my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.
Ant. S. By Dromio?

Dro. S. By me?

Adr. By thee: and this thou didst return
from him,-

That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. S. Did you converse, Sir, with this
gentlewoman?

What is the course and drift of your compact?
Dro. S. I, Sir? I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. [words
Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our
Unless it be by inspiration?

[names,

Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity,
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood?
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more con-
tempt.

Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine;
Whose weakness, married to my stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,

frown;

Bockons

Usurping ivy, brier, or idle* moss;

* Unfertile.

Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for
her theme:

What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy,

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.

Dro. S. O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.

This is the fairy land;-O, spite of spites!We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites; If we obey them not, this will ensue, [blue. They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not?

[sot! Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I? Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I.

Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my shape.

Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. · Dro. S. No, I am an ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an

Come, Sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate :-
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day,
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks:
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter.-
Come, sister:-Dromio, play the porter well.

Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking? mad, or well-advis'd?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd!
I'll say as they say, and persever so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.

Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate.

Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too [Exeunt.

late.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-The same. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.

Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us all;

My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours: Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop, To see the making of her carkanet,t

And that to-morrow you will bring it home. But here's a villain, that would face me down He met me on the mart; and that I beat him. And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold;

And that I did deny my wife and house :Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?

Dro. E. Say what you will, Sir, but I know

what I know:

That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show:

If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, [think. Your own handwriting would tell you what I Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass,

You would keep from my heels, and beware of

an ass.

Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 'Pray God, our cheer

May answer my good will, and your good welcome here.

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, Sir, and your welcome dear.

Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,

table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.

Bal, Good meat, Sir, is common; that every churl affords.

Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.

Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast.

Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest:

But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; [heart. Better cheer may you have, but not with better But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us in.

Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'!

Dro. S. [Within.] Mome,+ malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch !‡ Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch:

Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store,

When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door.

Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street.

Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on's feet.

Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open

the door.

Dro. S. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, and you'll tell me wherefore.

Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day.

Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come again, when you may.

Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I owe?

Dro. S. The porter for this time, Sir, and my name is Dromio.

Dro. E. O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name; [blame. The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle If thou had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou would'st have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. Luce. [Within.] What a coil is there? Dromio, who are those at the gate? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce. Faith no; he comes too late; And so tell your master.

Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh:Have at you with a proverb.—Shall I set in

my staff?

*Dishes of meat. I own, am owner of.

Luce. Have at you with another: that's,--| Be rul'd by me; depart in patience,
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.

And let us to the Tiger all to dinner:
And, about evening, come yourself alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in,
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made on it;
And that supposed by the common rout

Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there Against your yet ungalled estimation,

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 cry 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 welcome; 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.

Dro. 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 buck, to be so bought and sold.t

Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate.

Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate.

Dre. 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.

Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking; Out upon thee, hind!

Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray thee, let me in. Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin.

Ant. E. Well, I'll break in; Go borrow me

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.
I 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 wili 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
beste:

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain

me.

Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour hence.

Ant. E. Do so; This jest shall cost me some

expense.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter LUCIANA, and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot

A husband's office? shall, Antipholus, hate, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springst

rot?

If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate?

Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindness:

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;

Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger:
tainted;

Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; [ed? Be secret-false: What need she be 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;

Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women! make us but believe,

Though others have the arm, show us the Being compact of credit, that you love us; 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

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The dramatic works of William Shakspere, from the text of Johnson, Stevens ...