Ant. Villain, thou lieft; for even her Didft thou deliver to me on the Mart.

very Words

S. Dro. I never spake with her in all my Life.

Ant. How can fhe thus then call us by our Names, Unless it be by Inspiration?

Adr. How ill agrees it with your Gravity, To counterfeit thus grofly with

your Slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my Mood?

By it my Wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that Wrong with a more Contempt.
Come, I will faften on this Sleeve of thine;
Thou art an Elm, my Husband, I a Vine:
Whose Weakness marry'd to thy ftronger State,
Makes me with thy Strength to communicate;
If ought poffefs thee from me, it is Drofs,
Ufurping Ivy, Brier, or idle Mofs,

Who all for want of pruning, with Intrufion,
Infect thy Sap, and live on thy Confufion.

Ant. To me fhe fpeaks; fhe moves me for her Theam; What, was I marry'd to her in my Dream?

Or fleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What Error drives our Eyes and Ears amifs?
Until I know this fure Uncertainty,

I'll entertain the freed Fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the Servants fpread for Dinner.
S. Dro. Oh for my Beads, I cross me for a Sinner.
This is the Fairy Land: Oh Spight of Spights;
We talk with Goblins, Owls, and Elves Sprights;
If we obey them not, this will enfue,

They'll fuck our Breath, or pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'ft thou to thy felf,

Dromio, thou Dromio, Snail, thou Slug, thou Sot?
S. Dro. I am transformed, Mafter, am I not?
Ant. I think thou art in Mind, and fo am I.

S. Dro. Nay, Mafter, both in Mind and in my Shape.
Ant. Thou haft thine own Form.

S. Dro. No; I am an Ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Afs.

S. Dro. 'Tis true, fhe rides me, and I long for Grafs. 'Tis fo; I am an Afs; elfe it could never be,

But I fhould know her as well as fhe knows me.

Adr

And afterward Confort you 'till Bed-time:
My present Bufinefs calls me from you now.
Ant. Farewel 'till then; I will go lofe my felf,
And wander up and down to view the City.

Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own Content.

[Exit. Mer, Ant. He that commends me to my own Content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the World am like a drop of Water, Than in the Ocean feeks another drop, Who falling there to find his Fellow forth, Unfeen inquifitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a Mother and a Brother, In queft of him, unhappy, lofe my felf.

Enter Dromio of Ephefus.

Here comes the Almanack of my true date.

What now? How chance thou art return'd fo foon.
E. Dro. Return'd fo foon! rather approach'd too late?
The Capon burns, the Pig falls from the Spit,
The Clock hath ftrucken twelve upon the Bell;
My Mistress made it one upon my Cheek;
She is fo hot because the Meat is cold;

The Meat is cold because you come not home;
You come not home because you have no Stomach;
You have no Stomach having broke your Faft:
But we that know what 'tis to faft and pray,
Are penitent for your Default to day.

Ant. Stop in your Wind, Sir; tell me this I pray,
Where you have left the Mony that I gave you?
E. Dro. Oh, fix Pence that I had a Wednesday laft,
To pay the Sadler for my Mistress Crupper?
The Sadler had it, Sir; I kept it not.

Ant, I am not in a fportive Humour now;
Tell me, and dally not, where is the Mony?
We being Strangers here, how dar'ft thou truft
So great a Charge from thine own Cuftody?

E. Dro. I pray you jeft, Sir, as you fit at Dinner
I from my Mistress come to you in Post,
If I return, I fhall be Poft indeed;

For fhe will score your Fault upon my Pate:

Methinks your Maw, like mine, fhould be your Cook,
And ftrike you home without a Meffenger.

Ant. Come Dromio, come, these Jefts are out of Seafon; Referve them 'till a merrier Hour than this;

Where is the Gold I gave in Charge to thee?

E. Dro. To me, Sir? Why, you gave no Gold to me. Ant. Come on, Sir Knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou haft difpos'd thy Charge?

E. Dro. My Charge was but to fetch you from the Mart
Home to your Houfe, the Phenix, Sir, to Dinner;
My Mistress and her Sifter stay for you.

Ant. Now as I am a Chriftian answer me,
In what fafe Place you have beftow'd my Mony;
Or I fhall break that merry Sconce of yours
That ftands on Tricks when I am undifpos'd;
Where is the thousand Marks thou hadft of me?
E. Dro. I have fome Marks of yours upon my Pate;
Some of my Miftrefs's Marks upon my Shoulders;
But not a thoufand Marks between you both.
If I should pay your Worship thofe again,
Perchance you will not bear them patiently.

[thou?
Ant. Thy Miftrefs's Marks? What Mistress, Slave, haft
E. Dro. Your Worship's Wife, my Mistress at the Phonix ;
She that doth faft 'till you come home to Dinner;
And prays that you will hie you home to Dinner.
Ant. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my Face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, Sir Knave,

E. Dro. What mean you, Sir? For God fake hold your Nay, and you will not, Sir, I'll take my Heels.

[Hands;

Exit Dromio Ep. Ant. Upon my Life, by fome Device or other, The Villain is o'er-wrought of all my Mony. They fay, this Town is full of Couzenage; As nimble Juglers, that deceive the Eye; Dark-working Sorcerers, that change the Mind; Soul-killing Witches, that deform the Body; Difguis'd Cheaters, prating Mountebanks, And many fuch like Liberties of Sin: If it prove fo, I will be gone the fooner. I'll to the Centaur to go feek this Slave; I greatly fear my Mony is not fafe.

T 4

[Exit. ACT

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. That in fuch hafte I fent to feek his Master ; Either my Husband, nor the Slave return'd,

Sure, Luciana, it is two a Clock.

Luc. Perhaps fome Merchant hath invited him, And from the Mart he's fowewhere gone to Dinner: Good Sifter, let us dine, and never fret.

A Man is Master of his Liberty:

Time is their Mafter, and when they fee time,
They'll go or come; if fo, be patient, Sifter.

Adr. Why fhould their Liberty than ours be more?
Luc. Because their Business ftill lyes out a-door.
Adr. Look, when I ferve him fo, he takes it ill.
Luc. Oh, know he is the Bridle of
your Will.
Adr. There's none but Affes will be bridled fo.
Luc. Why, head-ftrong Liberty is lafht with Wo.
There's nothing fituate under Heav'n's Eye,
But hath its bound in Earth, in Sea, in Sky:
The Beasts, the Fishes, and the winged Fowls,
Are their Male's Subjects, and at their Controuls:
Man more divine, the Master of all these,
Lord of the wide Word, and wide watry Seas,
Indu'd with intellectual Senfe and Soul,
Of more Preheminence than Fish and Fowl,
Are Mafters to their Females, and their Lords:
Then let your Will attend on their Accords.

Adr. This Servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but Troubles of the Marriage-bed.
Adr. But were you wedded, you would bear fome Sway.
Luc. E'er 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 unmov'd, no marvel tho' fhe paufe;
They can be meek that have no other Cause:
A wretched Soul bruis'd with Adverfity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burden'd with like weight of Pain,
As much, or more we should our felves complain:

So

So thou that haft no unkind Mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless Patience wouldft relieve me:
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 Eph.

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, didft thou speak with him? Know'st thou his Mind?

E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told his Mind upon mine Ear, Befhrew his Hand, I scarce could understand it.

Luc. Spake he fo doubtfully, thou could'ft 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 prethee, is he coming home?

It feems he hath great Care to please his Wife.

E. Dro. Why, Mistress, fure my Mafter is Horn-mad.
Adr. Horn-mad, thou Villain?

E. Dro. I mean not Cuckold-mad;

But fure he is stark mad:

When I defir'd him to come home to Dinner,
He ask'd 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, quoth I? My Gold, quoth he:
Where is the thoufand Marks I gave thee, Villain?
The Pig, quoth I, is burn'd; my Gold, quoth he:
My Miftrefs, Sir, quoth I; hang up thy Mistress;
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; fo that my Errand, due unto my Tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my Shoulders: For in conclufion, he did beat me there.

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

E. Dro.