The Plays of William Shakespeare

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 favour'd fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the fervant spread for dinner. S. Dro. Oh, for my beads! I cross me for a finner. This is the Fairy land: oh, fpight of fpights! We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish fprights'; If we obey them not, this will enfue,

They'll fuck our breath, and pinch us black and blue. Luc. Why prat'ft thou to thyself, and answer'it

not?

Dromio, thou drone, thou fnail, thou flug, thou fot! S. Dro.

"We talk with goblins, owls,

and elvish Sprights;] Here Mr. Theobald calls out in the name of Nonfenfe, the first time he had formally invoked her, to tell him how Owls could fuck their breath, and pinch them black and blue. He, therefore, alters Owls to Ouphs, and dares fay, that his readers will acquiefce in the juftnefs of his emendation. But, for all this, we must not part with the old reading. He did not know it to be an old popular fuperftition, that the fcretchowl fucked out the breath and blood of infants in the cradle. On this account, the Italians called Witches, who were fup. pofed to be in like manner mifchievously bent against children, Strega, from Strix, the Scratchul. This fuperftition they had derived from their Pagan anceftors, as appears from this paffage of Ovid,

Sunt avidæ volucres; non quæ
Phineia menfis
Guttura fraudabant; fed genus

inde trahunt. Grande caput: ftantes oculi: rofira apta rapine: Canities pennis, unguibus hamus ineft. Nocte volant, PUBROSQUE PETUNT nutricis egentes; Et vitiant CUNIS corpora rapta fuis. Carpere dicuntur lacentia vifcera roftris;

Et plenum poto fanguine guttur habent.

Eft illis ftrigibus nomen :

Lib. 6. Feft. WARBURTON. Why pratft thou to thyself? Dromio, thou Dromio, fnail,

thou flug, thou fot!] In the first of these Lines Mr. Rowe and Mr.Pope have both, for what Reason I cannot tell, curtail'd the Meafure, and difmounted the doggrel Rhyme, which I have replac'd from the first Folio. The fecond Verfe is there likewife read;

Dromio, thou Dromio, thou
Snail, thou flug, thou fot.

The

S. Dro. I am transformed, mafter, am not I?
Ant. I think, thou art in mind, and so 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 aught, 'tis to an afs. S. Dro. 'Tis true; fhe rides me, and I long for grafs. 'Tis fo, I am an afs; But I fhould know her,

else it could never be,

as well as fhe knows me.

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the Eye and weep,
Whilft man and mafter laugh my woes to fcorn.
Come, Sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate;
Husband, I'll dine above with you to day,
And fhrive you of a thousand idle pranks;
Sirrah, if any afk you for you mafter,

Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter:
Come, fifter; Dromio, play the porter well.

Ant. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking, mad or well advis'd?
Known unto thefe, and to myself disguis'd?
I'll fay as they fay, and perfevere fo;
And in this mift at all adventures go.

}

S. Dro. Mafter, fhall I porter at the gate?
Adr. Ay, let none enter, left I break your pate.
Luc. Come, come, Antipholis, we dine too late.
[Exeunt.

The Verse is thus half a Foot
too long; my Correction cures
that Fault: befides Drone corre-
fponds with the other Appella-

tions of Reproach. THEOBALD.

9 And forive you-] That is, I will call you to confeffion, and make you tell your tricks.

ACT

III.

SCENE I.

The Street before Antipholis's House.

Enter Antipholis of Ephefus, Dromio of Ephefus, Angelo, and Balthazar.

E. ANTIPHOLIS.

NOOD Signior Angelo, you must excuse us;
My wife is fhrewith, when I keep not hours;
Say, that I linger'd with you at your fhop
To fee the making of her carkanet';

And that to-morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villain, that would face me down
He met me on the mart, and that I beat him;
And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold;
And that I did deny my wife and house:

Thou drunkard, thou, what didft thou mean by this?
E. Dro. Say what you will, Sir; but I know what
I know;

That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to

show;

If the fkin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink,

Your own hand-writing would tell you what I think. E. Ant. I think, thou art an afs.

E. Dro. Marry, fo it doth appear 2

By the wrongs I fuffer, and the blows I bear;

1 Carkanet seems to have been a necklace, or rather chain, perhaps hanging down double from the neck. So Lovelace in his poem, The Empress Spreads her carcanets.

2 Marry, fo it doth appear By the wrongs I juffer, and the

Blows I bear; ] Thus all the phted copies; but, cer

I fhould

tainly, This is Crofs-purposes in Reafoning. It appears, Dromid is an Afs by his making no Re fiftance: becaufe an Afs, being kick'd, kicks again. Our Author never argues at this wild Rate, where his Text is genuine.

THEOBALD. I do not think this emendation

I should kick, being kickt; and, being at that pafs, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass. E. Ant. Y'are fad, Signior Balthazar. Pray God, our cheer

May answer my good will, and your good welcome here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, Sir, and your welcome dear.

E. Ant. Ah, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table-full of welcome makes fcarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, Sir, is common: that every churl affords.

E. Ant. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.

Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feaft.

E. Ant. Ay, to a niggardly hoft, and more sparing

guest:

But tho' my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, foft; my door is lockt; go bid them let us in. E. Dro. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Ginn!

S. Dro. (within) Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch!

Either get thee from the door, or fit down at the hatch: Doft thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'ft for fuch ftore,

When one is one too many? go, get thee from the door.

E. Dro. What patch is made our porter? my mafter ftays in the street.

S. Dro. Let him walk from whence he came, left he catch cold on's feet.

tion neceffary. He firft fays, that his wrongs and blows prove him an af; but immediately, with a correction of his former fentiment, fuch as may be hour

ly obferved in converfation, he obferves, that, if he had been an ass, he fhould, when he was kicked, have kicked again.

E. Ant.

E. Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the door. S. Dro. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore.

E. Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not din'd to day.

S. Dro. Nor to-day here you muft not: come again, when you may.

E. Ant. What art thou, that keep'ft me out from the house I owe?

S. Dro. The porter for this time, Sir, and my name is Dromio.

E. Dro. O villain, thou haft ftoll'n both mine office and my name:

The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.
If thou had'ft been Dromio to-day in my place,
Thou would'st have chang'd thy face for a name, or
thy name for an afs.

Luce. (within) What a coil is there, Dromio? who are those at the gate?

E. Dro. Let my malter in, Luce.

Luce. Faith, no; he comes too late;

And fo tell your master.

E. Dro. O Lord, I must laugh;

Have at you with a Proverb.-Shall I fet in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another; that's, when can you tell?

S. Dro. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou haft
anfwer'd him well.

E. Ant. Do you hear, you minion, you'll let us in,
I trow ?

Luce. I thought to have afkt you.

S. Dro. And you faid, no.

E. Dro. So, come, help, well ftruck; there was
blow for blow.

E. Ant. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whofe fake?
E. Dro. Mafter, knock the door hard.
Luce. Let him knock, till it ake.

E. Ant.

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The Plays of William Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes, with the ..., Band 3