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Will lose his beauty; and the gold bides still,
[Exeunt. S CE Ν Ε IV.
Changes to the Street,
Enter Antipholis of Syracuse.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse. How now, Sir ? is your merry humour alter'd? As you love strokes, so jeft with me again. You know no Centaur ? you receiv'd no gold? Your mistress fent to have me home to dinner? My house was at the Phænix ? wast thou mad, That thus so madly thou didst answer me? S. Dro. What answer, Sir? when spake I such a
But falfhood, and corruption, doth it fame.
however, often touching, will wear even gold; just so the great“ eit character, cho' as pure as gold itself, may, in time, be ia“ jured, by the repeated attacks of falihood and corruption."
Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour since.
you since you sent 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 mistess, and a dinner For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas’d.
S. Dro. I'm glad to see you in this merry vein: What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me?
Ant. Yea, dost thou jeer and fout me in the teeth? Think'st thou, I jest? hold, take thou that, and that.
[Beats Dro. S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jest
is earnest ;
Ant. Because that I familiarly sometimes
S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head ; an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it too, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders : but, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten ?
S. Dro. Ay, Sir, and wherefore ; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore.
Ant. Why, first, for fouting me; and then wherefore, for urging it the second time to me.
-beat this method ] Merbod, for inftruction.
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 something. But say, Sir, is it dinner-time?
S. Dro. No, Sir, I think, the meat wants that I have.
S. Dro. Left it make you cholerick, and purchase me another dry-bafting.
Ant. Well, Sir, learn to jest in good cime; there's a time for all things.
S. Dro. I durst have deny'd that, before you were so cholerick.
Ant. By what rule, Sir ?
S. Dro. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald 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 lost hair of another man.
Ant. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?
S. Dro. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beafts; and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given (a) them in wit. [ (a) men, Mr. Theobald Vulg. tbem.]
lo Ant. Why; but there's many a man hath more hair than wit. IS. Dro. Not a man of chose, but he hath the wit to lose bis hair.
Ant. Why, thou didft conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit. · S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the fooner lost ; yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity.
Ant. For what reason?
S. Dro. The one to save the money that he spends in trying; 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. :: Dro. Marry, and did, Sir ; namely, no time to recover hair loft by nature,
Ant. But your reason was not substantial, 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. 3. Ant. I knew, 'twould be là bald conclusion: but, soft! who wafts us yonder??
S с. Е NE
.). Enter Adriana, and Luciana ,,Life Adri. Ay, ay, Antipholis, look strange and frowni, Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects: Tam not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, woulait vow, " That never words were musick to thine eary VOL. III.
• That never object pleasing in thine eye,
3 I am poßefs'd with an adulterate blot ;
My blood is mingled with the CRIME of luft:) Both the integrity of the metaphor, and the word blor, in the preceding line, Thew that we hould read,
with the GRIME of luft: i.e the Rain, smut. So a. gain in this play, - A man may go over shoes in the GRIME of it.