Ang. Even just the fum that I do owe to you (16) Is growing to me by Antipholis; And, in the inftant that I met with you, Enter ANTIPHOLIS Ephefus, and DROMIO Ephefus, as from the Courtezan's. Off. That labour you may fave: fee where he comes. [thou E. Ant. While I go to the goldsmith's houfe, go And buy a rope's end; that will I bestow Among my wife and her confederates, For locking me out of my doors by day. But, foft; I fee the goldfmith: get thee gone, Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. É. Dro. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy [Exit Dromio. E. Ant. A man is well holp up that trufts to you: I promised your prefence, and the chain: But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me: а горе! (16) Ev'n just the fum that I do owe to you Is owing to me by Antipholis.] Mr Pope, who pretends that he makes no innovations but ex fide codicum, has fophifticated this paffage for no reason in the world as I apprehend. The oldest folio, and all the other copies that I have seen, read in the fecond fine; Is growing to me by Antipholis. So twice, afterwards, in this very play; Adr. Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it. Adr. I know the man; what is the fum he owes ? Adr. Say, how grows it due? VOL. IV. Belike you thought our love would last too long If it were chained together; therefore came not. Ang. Saving your merry humour here's the note, How much your chain weighs to the utmoft carat; The fineness of the gold, the chargeful fashion; Which do amount to three odd ducats more Than I ftand debted to this gentleman: I pray you fee him prefently discharged; For he is bound to fea, and stays but for it. E. Ant. I am not furnished with the prefent money; Befides, I have fome business in the town; Good Signior, take the ftranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Difburfe the fum on the receipt thereof; Perchance I will be there as foon as you. [felf? Ant. Then you will bring the chain to her yourE, Ant. No; bear it with you, left I come not time enough. Ang. Well, Sir, I will: have you the chain about you? E. nt. An if I have not, Sir, I hope you have: Or else you may return without your money. Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, Sir, give me the Both wind and tide ftay for this gentleman; [chain; And I, to blame, have held him here too long. E. Ant. Good Lord, you use this dalliance to Your breach of promife to the Porcupine: [excufe I fhould have chid you for not bringing it; But, like a fhrew, you first begin to brawl. Mer. The hour fteals on; I pray you, Sir, dispatch. Ang. You hear how he importunes me; the chain-E. Ant. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money. Ang. Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. Or fend the chain, or send me by fome token. E. Ant. Fy, now you run this humour out of breath: Come, where's the chain I pray you? let me fee it. Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance: Good Sir, fay, whether you'll answer me or no; If not, I'll leave him to the officer. E. Ant. I anfwer you? why should I answer you? Ang. The money that you owe me for the chain. E. Ant. I owe you none, 'till I receive the chain. Ang. You know I gave it you half an hour since. E. Ant. You gave me none; you wrong me much to fay fo. Ang. You wrong me more, Sir, in denying it; Confider how it ftands upon my credit. Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my fuit. Ang. This touches me in reputation. E. Ant. Confent to pay for that I never had! Arreft me, foolish fellow, if thou dareft. Ang. Here is thy fee; arreft him, officer; Offi. I do arreft you, Sir; you hear the fuit. Ang. Sir, Sir, I fhall have law in Ephefus, Enter DROMIO of Syracuse from the Bay. S. Dro. Mafter, there is a bark of Epidamnum, That stays but till her owner come on board; Then, Sir, the bears away. Our fraughtage, Sir, I have conveyed aboard; and I have bought E. Ant. How now! a madman! why, thou peevish sheep, What fhip of Epidamnum ftays for me? S. Dro. A fhip you fent me to, to hire a waftage. E. Ant. Thoudrunken flave, I fent thee for a rope; And told thee to what purpose, and what end. S. Dro. You fent me for a rope's end as foon: You fent me to the bay, Sir, for a bark. E. Ant. I will debate this matter at more leifure, And teach your ears to lift me with more heed. To Adriana, villain, hye thee ftrait, Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk That's covered o'er with Turkish tapestry, There is a purfe of ducats, let her fend it: Tell her, I am arrested in the street, And that fhall bail me; hye thee, flave; be gone: On, officer, to prifon 'till it come. [Exeunt S. Dro. To Adriana! that is where we dined, Where Dowlabel did claim me for her husband; She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I muft, although against my will, For fervants must their master's mind fulfil. [Exit.. SCENE changes to Ephefus Antiphelis's House. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee fo? Mighteft thou perceive aufterely in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? Looked he red or pale, or fad or merrily? What obfervation madest thou in this cafe, Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face? Luc. First he denied, you had in him no right. Adr. He meant he did me none; the more my fpight. Luc. Then fwore he that he was a stranger here. Adr. And what faid he? Luc. That love I begged for you, he begged of me? Adr. With what perfuafion did he tempt thy love? Luc. With words that in an honeft fuit might move. First, he did praise my beauty, then my speech. Adr. Did't speak him fair? Luc. Have patience, I beseech. Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still; My tongue, though not my heart, fhall have its will. He is deformed, crooked, old and fere, Ill-faced, worfe bodied, shapeless every where; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. Luc. Who would be jealous then of fuch a one? No evil loft is wailed, when it is gone. Adr. Ah! but I think him better than I fay, And yet, would herein others eyes were worie: Far from her neft the lapwing cries away; My heart prays for him, tho' my tongue do curfe. Enter DROMIO of Syracufe. S. Dro. Here, go; the defk, the purfe; fweet, now make hafle. Luc. How haft thou loft thy breath? S. Dro. By running fast. Adr. Where is thy mafter, Dromio! is he well? S. Dro. No, he's in Tartar Limbo, worfe than hell; A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, One whole hard heart is buttoned up with steel : |