Obrazy na stronie
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The time was once, when thou unurged wouldst vow,
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-savored in thy taste,
Unless I spake, looked, touched, or carved to thee.
How comes it now, my husband, O, 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 mayst thou fall1
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
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,
Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious!
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate!
Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stained skin off my harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And break it with a deep, divorcing vow?

I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do it.
I am possessed with an adulterate blot;

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 bed;
I live disstained, 2 thou undishonored

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;

1 Fall is here a verb active.

2 i. e. unstained.

Who, every word by all my wit being scanned,
Want wit in all one word to understand.

Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is changed 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 words Didst thou deliver to me on the mårt.

Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.

Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our names, Unless it be by inspiration?

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,1
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine.
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine;
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate.
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle 2 moss;

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?

1 i. e. separated, parted.

2 i. e. unfruitful.

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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,

They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answerest

not?

Dromio, thou drone,2 thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
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.

No, I am an ape.

Dro. S.
Luc. If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an ass.
Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass.

'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be,

But I should know her as well as she knows me.

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,

To put the finger in the eye and weep,

Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to scorn.-
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 advised?
Known unto these, and to myself disguised!
I'll say as they say, and persever so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.

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1 The old copy reads freed, which is evidently wrong; perhaps a corruption of proffered or offered.

2 The old copy reads "Dromio, thou Dromio." The emendation is Theobald's.

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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 late.

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[Exeunt.

Jenam

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.

Ant. E. Good seignior Angelo, you must excuse us

all:

My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours.
Say, that I lingered with you at your shop,
To see the making of her carcanet,
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 charged 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,

Your own hand writing would tell you what I think. 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 kicked; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.

Ant. E. You are sad, seignior 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 seignior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A 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;

Better cheer you may have, but not with better heart. But, soft; my door is locked. Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'!

Dro. S. [Within.] Mome,' malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! 2

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, an you'll tell me wherefore.

1 A mome was a fool or foolish jester. Momar is used by Plautus for a fool; whence the French mommeur.

2 Patch was a term of contempt often applied to persons of low condition, and sometimes applied to a fool.

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