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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 your default to-day.
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this, I pray; Where have you left the money that I gave you ?
Dro. E. Oh! sixpence, that I had o'Wednesday last, To pay the saddler for
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 darst 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 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. Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your fool
ishness, And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the
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
Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid ? There, take you that, sir knave.
[Strikes him. Dro. E. What mean you, sir ? for God's sake, hold Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain is o'er-raught 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. If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave; I greatly fear my money is not safe. [Exit.
SCENE I. House of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus.
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, 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. Oh! 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 his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky. The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subjects, and at their controls : Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world and wild watery 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 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. A wretched soul, bruis’d with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain : So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me. 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.
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 could’st 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?
Dro. E. Why, mistress, suremy master is horn-mad.
stark mad. When 1 desir’d him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold. 'Tis dinner-time, quoth 1; My gold, quoth he. Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold, quoth he.
Will you come home? quoth I; My gold, quoth he.
Luc. Quoth who?
Dro. E. Quoth my master :
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
you I shall have a holy bead. Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy master
home. Dro. E, Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus ? You spurn me bence, and he will spurn me hither : If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
[Eait. 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 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 fair A sunny look of his would soon repair.