Sir.

S. Ant. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not.
S. Dro. Master, is this mistress Satan?
S. Ant. It is the devil.

S. Dro. Nay, she is worse, she's the devil's dam; and here's she comes in the habit of a light wench, and therefore comes, that the wenches fay, God dam me, that's as much as to say, God make me a light wench. It is written, they appear to men like angels of light; light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn ; come not near her.

Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, Will you go with me, we'll mend our dinner here?

S. Dro. Master, if you do expect spoon-ineat, bespeak a long spoon.

S. Ant. Why, Dromio?

S. Dro. Marry, he must have a long spoon, that must eat with the devil. S. Ant. Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me

of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress : I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone.

Cour. Give me the ring of mine, you had at dinner, Or for my diamond the chain you promis’d, And I'll be gone, Sir, and not trouble you.

S. Dro. Sume devils ask but the parings of one's nail; a rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, : cherry-stone : but she, more covetous, would have a chain. Master, be wise; an' if you give it her, the devil will make her chain, and fright us with it.

Cour. I pray you, Sir, my ring, or else the chain ; I hope, you do not mean to cheat me fo?

S. Ant. Avaunt, thou witch! come, Dromio, let

us go.

S. Dro. Fly pride, says the peacock; mistress, that

[Exeunt.

you know.

SCENE

S CE NE VII.

Manet Courtezan.

Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipbolis is mad;
Else would he never so demean himself.
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for 'the same he promis'd me a chain ;
Both one, and other, he denies me now.
The reason, that I gather, he is mad,
Besides this present instance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Of his own door being shut against his entrance.
Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doors against his way.
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that, being lunatick,
He rush'd into my house, and took perforce
My ring away. This course 1 fittest chuse;
For forty ducats is too much to lose.

[Exit.

S CE N E VIII.

Changes to the Street.

Enter Antipholis of Ephesus, with a Jailor. E. Ant. Fear me not, man ; I will not break away ; I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much mony, To warrant thee, as I am 'reited for. My wife is in a wayward mood to day, And will not lightly trust the messenger, That I should be attach'd in Ephesus, I tell you, 'twill found harshly in her ears.-

Enter Dromio of Ephesus, with a Rope's end. Here comes my man; I think, he brings the mony. How now, Sir, have you that I sent you for?

E. Dro. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all,
E. Ant. But where's the mony?
E. Dro. Why, Sir, I gave the mony for the rope.
E. Ant. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope ?
E. Dro. I'll serve you, Sir, five hundred at the rate.
E. Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?

E. Dro. To a rope's-end, Sir; and to that end am
I return'd.
E. Ant. And to that end, Sir, I will welcome you.

(Beats Dromio. Offi. Good Sir, be patient.

E. Dro. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient; I am in adversity. Ofi

. Good now, hold thy tongue. E. Dro. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands. E. Ant. Thou whorson, senseless villain!

E. Dro. I would, I were senseless, Sir, that I might not feel your blows.

E. Ant. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and fo is an ass.

E. Dro. I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have serv'd him from the hour of my nativity to this inftant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with beating; I am wak'd with it, when I neep; rais'd with it, when I sit ; driven out of doors with it, when I go from home; welcom'd home with it, when I re. turn; nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, when he hath lam’d

me, I shall beg with it from door to door.

SCENE

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, and Pinch.
E. Ant. Come, go along; my wife is coming

yonder.
E. Dro. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end;
or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, beware the
rope's-end.
E. Ant. Wilt thou still talk ?

[Beats Dromio. Cour. How say you now? is not your husband mad?

Adr. His incivility confirms no less.
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Conjurer.
Establish him in his true fenfe again,
And I will please you what you will demand.

Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks !
Cour. Mark how he trembles in his ecstacy !
Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your

pulse.
E. Ant. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.

Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers ;
And to thy state of darkness hie thee strait,

6 Mifress, respice finem, re. with which, when any passenger fpect your end; or rather the pro was offended, it was the stand. phecie, Like the parrot, beware the ing joke of the wise owner to rope's-end.] These words seem to say, Take heed, Sir, my parrot allude to a famous pamphlet of prophekes. To this Builer hints, that time, wrote by Buchanan where, speaking of Ralpho's skill against the Lord of Liddington ; in augury, he says, which ends with these words, Could tell what subtlefi parrots Refpice finem, refpice funem. But to what purpose, unless our Au That speak and think contrary thor would thew that he could quibble as well in Englis, as the What member 'tis of whom they other in Lalin, I confers I know talk, not. As for prophesying like the When they cry Rope, and walk, perrot, this alludes to people's knave, walk. teaching that bird unlucky words

WARBURTON,

mean,

clean ;

Į conjure thee by all the Saints in heav'n.
E. Ant. Peace, doating wizard, peace; I am not

mad.
Adr. Oh, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul !

E. Ant. You minion, you, are these your customers ? Did this companion with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house to day, Whilst upon me the guilty doors were fhut, And I deny’d to enter in my my house? Adr. Oh, husband, God doth know, you din'd at

home, Where, 'would you had remain'd until this time, Free from these Nanders and this open shame! E. Ant. Din'd I at home? thou villain, what fay'st

thou? E. Dro. Sir, footh to say, you did not dine at home. E. Ant. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I shut

out? E. Dro. Perdie, your doors were lock’d, and you

shut out. E. Ant. And did not she herself revile me there? E. Dro. Sans fable, she herself revil'd you there. E. Ant. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and

scorn me ? E. Dro. Certes, she did, the’ kitchen-vestal scorn'd

you. E. Aant. And did I not in rage depart from thence? E. Dro. In verity, you did; my bones bear witness, That since have felt the vigour of your rage.

Adr. Is’t good to sooth him in these contraries?

Pinch. It is no shame; the fellow finds his vein, And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy.

E. Ant. Thou hast, fuborn’d the goldsmith to arrest

me.

Adr. Alas, I sent you mony to redeem you,

7 Kitchen-velal.] Her charge being like that of the veftal vir. gins, to keep the fire burning.

!

BY