Shakespeare's First Folio Part 79

An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing

S.Dro. Certaine ones then

An. Name them

S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porrage

An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no time for all things

S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer haire lost by Nature

An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there is no time to recouer

S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers

An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft, who wafts vs yonder.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne, Some other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects: I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow, That neuer words were musicke to thine eare, That neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye, That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand, That neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste, Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.

How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it, That thou art then estranged from thy selfe?

Thy selfe I call it, being strange to me: That vndiuidable Incorporate Am better then thy deere selfes better part.

Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me; For know my loue: as easie maist thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulfe, And take vnmingled thence that drop againe Without addition or diminis.h.i.+ng, As take from me thy selfe, and not me too.

How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke, Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious?

And that this body consecrate to thee, By Ruffian l.u.s.t should be contaminate?

Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me, And hurle the name of husband in my face, And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow?

I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.

I am possest with an adulterate blot, My bloud is mingled with the crime of l.u.s.t: For if we two be one, and thou play false, I doe digest the poison of thy flesh, Being strumpeted by thy contagion: Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed, I liue distain'd, thou vndishonoured

Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not: In Ephesus I am but two houres old, As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke, Who euery word by all my wit being scan'd, Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand

Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you: When were you wont to vse my sister thus?

She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner

Ant. By Dromio?

Drom. By me

Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him.

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

Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman: What is the course and drift of your compact?

S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time

Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words, Didst thou deliuer to me on the Mart

S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life

Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names?

Vnlesse it be by inspiration

Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie, To counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue, Abetting him to thwart me in my moode; Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.

Come I will fasten on this sleeue of thine: Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine: Whose weaknesse married to thy stranger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate: If ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse, Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse, Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion, Infect thy sap, and liue on thy confusion

Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her theame; What, was I married to her in my dreame?

Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?

What error driues our eies and eares amisse?

Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie, Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie

Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner

S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner.

This is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights, We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights; If we obay them not, this will insue: They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew

Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not?

Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot

S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not?

Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I

S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape

Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme

S.Dro. No, I am an Ape

Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an a.s.se

S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for gra.s.se.

'Tis so, I am an a.s.se, else it could neuer be, But I should know her as well as she knowes me

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole, To put the finger in the eie and weepe; Whil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne: Come sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate: Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day, And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes: Sirra, if any aske you for your Master, Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter: Come sister, Dromio play the Porter well

Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in h.e.l.l?

Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde: Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde: Ile say as they say, and perseuer so: And in this mist at all aduentures go

S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?

Adr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate

Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the Goldsmith, and Balthaser the Merchant.

E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all, My wife is shrewish when I keepe not howres; Say that I lingerd with you at your shop To see the making of her Carkanet, And that to morrow you will bring it home.

But here's a villaine that would face me downe He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him, And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold, And that I did denie my wife and house; Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?

E.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know, That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show; If y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue were ink, Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke