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DRO. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean.


[Exit DRO. S. 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, Of whom I hope to make much benefit; I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, And afterwards consort you till bed-time;" My present business calls me from you now.

ANT. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself, And wander up and down, to view the city. 1. MER. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit Merchant. ANT. S. He that commends me to my own con


Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the ocean seeks another drop;

* A trusty villain,] i. e. servant. DOUCE.

And afterwards consort you till bed-time ;] We should read, I believe,

And afterwards consort with you till bed-time.

So, in Romeo and Juliet:

"Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo." MALONE. There is no need of emendation. The old reading is supported by the following passage in Love's Labour's Lost, Act II. sc. i:

"Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace." Again in Romeo and Juliet:

"Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here—.”


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Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So, I, to find a mother, and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. Tre haf

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Here comes the almanack of my true date.
What now? How chance, thou art return'd so soon?
DRO. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd

too late;

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;..
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
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 default to-day.

ANT. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I


Where have you left the money that I

gave you? DRO. E. O,-six-pence, that I had o'Wednesday


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

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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 you, 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 y clock,9

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And strike you home without a ni ANT. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;

Reserve them till å 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



ANT. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,


And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.

DRO. E. My charge was but to fetch you from

the mart

Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner; My mistress, and her sister, stay for you..


I shall be post indeed;

For she will score your fault upon my pate.] Perhaps, before writing was a general accomplishment, a kind of rough reckoning, concerning wares issued out of a shop, was kept by chalk or notches on a post, till it could be entered on the books of a trader. So, in Every Man in his Humour, Kitely, the merchant, making his jealous enquiries concerning the familiarities used to his wife, Cob answers, if I saw any body to be kiss'd, unless they would have kiss'd the post in the middle of the warehouse," &c. STEEVENS.



So, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: "Host. Out of my doors, knave, thou enterest not my doors; I have no chalk in my house; my posts shall not be guarded with a little sing-song." MALONE.

› Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock,] The old copy reads--your cook. Mr. Pope made the change.

So, Plautus:


me puero uterus erat solarium.” See Aul. Gell. L. III. ch. iii. STEEVENS.


ANT. S. Now, as I am a christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,' That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd: Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

DRO. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate,

Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, But not a thousand marks between you both.If I should pay your worship those again, Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.

ANT.S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?

DRO. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the

Phoenix ;

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


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 DRO. E.

ANT. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain is o'er-raught of all my money.


-that merry sconce of yours,] Sconce is head. So, in Hamlet, Act V: « - why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce ?"


Again, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611:


I say no more,

"But 'tis within this sconce to go beyond them."


o'er-raught-] That is, over-reached. JOHNSON.

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;

So, in Hamlet:

66 certain players

"We o'er-raught on the way."

Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, B. VI. c. iii:
"Having by chance a close advantage view'd,
"He o'er-raught him," &c.


of cozenage;] This was the
Hence Εφεσια αλεξιφάρμακα
Thus Menander uses it, and

They say, this town is full character the ancients give of it. was proverbial amongst them. Εφεσια γραμματα, in the same sense.


As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,

Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,

Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;] Those, who attentively consider these three lines, must confess, that the poet intended the epithet given to each of these miscreants, should declare the power by which they perform their feats, and which would therefore be a just characteristick of each of them. Thus, by nimble jugglers, we are taught, that they perform their tricks by slight of hand: and by soul-killing witches, we are informed, the mischief they do is by the assistance of the devil, to whom they have given their souls: but then, by dark-working sorcerers, we are not instructed in the means by which they perform their ends. Besides, this epithet agrees as well to witches as to them; and therefore certainly our author could not design this in their characteristick. We should read:

Drug-working sorcerers, that change the mind;

and we know, by the history of ancient and modern superstition, that these kind of jugglers always pretended to work changes of the mind by these applications. WARBURTON.

The learned commentator has endeavoured with much earnestness to recommend his alteration; but, if I may judge of other apprehensions by my own, without great success. This interpretation of soul-killing is forced and harsh. Sir T. Hanmer reads soul-selling, agreeable enough to the common opinion, but without such improvement as may justify the change. Perhaps. the epithets have only been misplaced, and the lines should be read thus:

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