Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit DRO. S. Ant. S. A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn and dine with me? Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, And wander up and down, to view the city. tent. content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. Enter DROMIO of Ephesus. Here comes the almanac of my true date.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; You have no stomach, having broke your fast; Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray : Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o' Wednes day last, To pay the saddler for my mistress' 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 dar'st 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; 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 foolishness, And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge. Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you. from the mart Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner; My mistress and her sister stay for you. Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, And prays that you I will hie you home to dinner. Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus untc my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God's sake, hold your hands; Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain is o'er-raught of all my money. Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I.-A public Place. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adriana. EITHER my husband, nor the slave return'd, That in such haste I sent to seek his master! 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. O, 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 Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriagebed. 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 otherwhere ? Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience, unmoved, no marvel though she pause; They can be meek that have no other cause. 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 relieve me : But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. |