Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lafh'd with woe. There's nothing fituate under Heaven's eye, But hath its bound in earth, in fea, in fky: The beafts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their male's fubjects, and at their controlls: Man, more divine, the master of all these, Lord of the wide world, and wide wat'ry feas, Endu'd with intellectual fenfe and foul, Of more preheminence than fifh and fowl, Are masters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adr. This fervitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Adr. But were you wedded, you will bear fome
fway.

Luc. Ere I learn love I'll practise to obey.
Adr. How if your husband start fome other where?
Luc. 'Till he come home again, I would forbear,
Adr. Patience unmoved, no marvel though fhe.
paufe;

They can be meek that have no other caufe:
A wretched foul, bruifed with adverfity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;

But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain;
So thou who haft no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldeft relieve mes
But if thou live to fee 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 Ephefus.

Adr. Say, is your tardy mafter now at hand? E Dro. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didit thou fpeak with him? knoweft

thou his mind?

E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: Befhrew his hand, I fcarce could understand it. Luc. Spake he fo doubtfully thou couldest not feel his meaning?

E. Dro. Nay, he ftruck fo plainly I could too well feel his blows; and withal fo doubtfully that I could fcarce understand them.

Adr. But fay, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. E. Dro. Why, miftrefs, fure my mafter is horn Adr. Horn mad, thou villain? [mad. E. Dro. I mean not cuckold mad; but fure he's ftark mad.

When I defired him to come home to dinner,
He asked me for a thousand marks in gold:
"Tis dinner-time, quoth I; my gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; my gold, quoth he:
Will you come home? quoth 1; my gold, quoth he:
Where is the thoufand marks I gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burned; my gold, quoth he.
My mittrefs, Sir, quoth I: hang up thy miftrefs;
I know not thy miftrefs; out on thy mistress!
Luc. Quoth who?

E. Dro. Quoth my master:

I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress;
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, I bare home upon my fhoulders:
For, in conclufion, he did beat me there.

Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.

E. Dro. Go back again, and be new beaten home: For God's fake fend fome other meffeager.

Adr. Back, flave, or I will break thy pate across.
VOL. IV.
Bb

E. Dro. And he will blefs that crofs with other Between you I fhall have a holy head. [beating: dr. Hence, prating peafant, fetch thy mafter home..

E. Dro. Am I fo round with you as you with me, That like a foot-ball you do fpurn me thus? You fpurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I lat in this fervice, you must cafe me in leather.

[Exit.
Luc. Fy, how impatience lowreth in your face!
Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
Whilft I at home ftarve for a merry look:
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wafted it.
Are my difcourfes dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and tharp difcourfe be marr'd,
Unkindnefs blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That's not my fault: he's master of my ftate.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruined? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A funny look of this would foon repair.
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his ftale.
Luc. Self-harming jealoufy ?----fy, beat it hence.
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with fuch wrongs dif
pense:

I know his eye doth homage other-where;
Or elfe what lets it but he would be here?
Sitter, you know he promifed me a chain;
Would that alone, alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I fee the jewel best enamelled (5)

(5) I fee the jewel best enamelled

Will lofe his beauty; yet the gold bides ftill
That others touch, and often touching will:

Will lofe his beauty; and the gold bides ftill,
That others touch: yet often touching will
Wear gold and fo no man, that hath a name,
But falfehood, and corruption, doth it fhame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools ferve mad jealousy!
[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Street.

Enter ANTIPHOLIS of Syracufe.

Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful flave
Is wandered forth in care to feek me out.
By computation, and mine hoft's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, fince at first
I fent him from the mart. See, here he comes.
Enter DROMIO of Syracufe.

How now, Sir? is your merry humour altered?
As you love strokes, fo jeft with me again.

Where gold and no man that hath a name,

By falfebool and corruption doth it flame.] In this mife. rably mangled condition is this paffage exhibited in the first folio. All the editions fince have left out the last couplet of it; I prefume, as too hard for them. Mr Pope, who pretends to have collated the firft folio, fhould have fpared us the lines, at least, in their corruption.- ----I communica ted my doubts upon this paffage to my friend Mi Warbur ton; and to his fagacity I owe, in good part, the correction of it. The fenfe of the whole is now very pertinent; which, without the two lines from the firft folio, was very imperfect, not to fay ridiculous. The comparison is fully clofed. "Gold, indeed, bides handling well; but, for all that, of"ten touching will wear even gold: So, no man of a great "character, even as pure as gold, but may in time fole "it by falfehood and corruption.”

You know no Centaur? you received no gold?
Your mistress fent to have me home to dinner?
My houfe was at the Phoenix? waft thou mad,
That thus fo madly thou didst answer me?

S. Dro. What anfwer, Sir? when fpake I fuch a word?

Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour fince. S. Dro. I did not fee you fince you fent me hence Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt; And told'ft me of a mistress and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'ft I was difpleafed. S. Dro. I'm glad to fee you in this merry vein: What means this jeft, I pray you, mafter, tell me? Ant. Yea, doft thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Thinkeft thou I jest? hold, take thou that, and that. [Beats Dromio. S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jest is carneft;

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. Becaufe that I familiarly fometimes Do ufe you for my fool, and chat with you, Your fawcinefs will jeft upon my love, And make a common of my ferious hours. When the fun fhines, let foolish gnats make fport; But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams: If you will jet with me, know my afpect, And fathion your demeanor to my looks; Or I will beat this method in your iconce.

S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? fo you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head; an -you ufe thefe blows long, I must get a fconce for my head, and infconce it too, or clfe I fhall feek my wit in fhoulders: but, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten? Ant. Doft thou not know?

my

S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten.