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

Adr. Back, flave, or 1 will break thy pate acrofs. E. Dro. And he will bless that cross with other beating:

Between you I shall have a holy head.

Adr. Hence, prating peasant, 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 spurn me hence, and he will fpurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must cafe me in leather.






IE, how impatience lowreth in your face!
Adr. His company must do his minions

Whilft I at home ftarve for a merry look:
Hath homely age th`alluring beauty took
From my poor check? then, he hath wafted it.
Are my difcourfes dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp difcourfe be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gray veftments 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 ruin'd? then, is he the ground.
my defeatures. My decayed fair

A funny look of his would foon repair.

But, too unruly dear, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his ftale.
Luc. Self harming jealousy!-fie, beat it hence.
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with fuch wrongs difpenfe:
I know, his eye doth homage other-where;
Or elfe what lets it, but he would be here?
Sifter, you know he promis'd me a chain;
Would that alone, alone, he would detain,


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So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
* I fee, the jewel, beft enameled,

Will lofe his beauty; and the gold bides ftill,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name,
But falfhood, 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!



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Changes to the Street.

Enter Antipholis of Syracuse.

HE gold I gave to Dromio is laid up


Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful flave

Is wander'd forth in care to feek me out.
By computation, and mine hoft's report,
I could not fpeak with Dromio, fince at first
I fent him from the mart. See, here he comes.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

How now, Sir! is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love ftrokes, so jeft with me again.

*I fee, the jewel, best enameled,

Will lofe his beauty; yet the gold bides ftill,
That others touch, and often touching will:
Where gold and no man, that hath a name,

By falfhood and corruption doth it fhame.] In this miferable Condition is this Paffage given us. It should be read thus,

I fee, the jewel, beft enameled,

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 falfhood, and corruption, doth it fhame.

The Senfe is this, Gold, indeed, will long bear the handling; how-
ever, often touching, will wear even Gold; juft fo the greatest Cha-
rader, tho' as pure as Gold itself, may, in Time, be injured, by
the repeated Attacks of Falfhood and Corruption.


You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress fent to have me home to dinner?

S. Dro. What anfwer, Sir? when spake I such a word?

My house was at the Phanix? waft thou mad,
That thus fo madly thou didst answer me?

Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour fince.
S. Dro. I did not see you fince you fent me hence
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
Ant. Villain, thou didft deny the gold's receipt;
And told'ft me of a mistress, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.

S. Dro I'm glad to fee you in this mercy vein: What means this jeft, I pray you, master, tell me? Ant. Yea, doft thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think'ft thou, I jeft? hold, take thou that, and that. [Beats Dro. S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jeft is


Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. Because that I familiarly fometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your faucinefs will jeft upon my


And make a common of my serious hours.
When the fun fhines, let foolish gnats make sport;
But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams:
If you will jeft with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks;
Or I will beat this method in your fconce.

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

S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten.
Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they fay, every why hath a wherefore.


Ant. Why, firft, for flouting me; and then wher fore, for urging it the second time to me

S. Dro. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season,

When, in the why, and wherefore, is neither rhime nor reason?

Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant. Thank me, Sir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for fomething. But fay, Sir, is it dinner-time? S. Dro. No, Sir, I think, the meat wants that I have. Ant. In good time, Sir, what's that?

S. Dro. Bafting.

Ant. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.

S. Dro. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.
Ant. Your reason?

S. Dro. Left it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry-bafting.

Ant, Well, Sir, learn to jeft in good time; there's a time for all things.

S. Dro. I durft have deny'd that, before you were fo choleric.

Ant. By what rule, Sir?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain pate of father Time himself.


Ant. Let's hear it.

S. Dro. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. May he not do it by fine and recovery?

S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the loft hair of another man.

Ant. Why is Time fuch a niggard of hair, being, as it is, fo plentiful an excrement?

S. Dro. Because it is a bleffing that he bestows on beafts; and what he hath fcanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.


Ant. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair

than wit.

S. Dro. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lofe his hair.

Ant. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.

S. Dro. The plain dealer, the fooner loft; yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity.

Ant. For what reafon ?

S. Dro. For two, and found ones too.
Ant. Nay, not found, I pray you.
S. Dro. Sure ones then.

Ant. Nay, not sure in a thing falfing.
S. Dro. Certain ones then.

Ant. Name them.

S. Dro. The one to fave the money that he spends in tyring; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge.

Ant. You would all this time have prov'd, there is no time for all things.

S. Dro. Marry, and did, Sir; namely, no time to recover hair loft by nature.

Ant. But your reafon was not fubftantial, why there is no time to recover.

S. Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and therefore to the world's end will have bald followers. Ant. I knew, 'twould be a bald conclufion: but, foft! who wafts us yonder?


Enter Adriana, and Luciana.

Adri. AY, ay, Antipholis, look ftrange and frown,

Some other miftrefs hath thy fweet aspects:

I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, wouldst vow,
That never words were mufic to thine ear,

That never object pleafing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thy hand,


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