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, fhe is worse, fhe's the devil's dam; and here's fhe comes in the habit of a light wench, and therefore comes, that the wenches fay, God dam me, that's as much as to fay, 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, Sir. Will you go with me, we'll mend our dinner here? S. Dro. Mafter, if you do expect spoon-meat, befpeak a long spoon.

S. Ant. Why, Dromio?

S. Dro. Marry, he must have a long spoon, that muft eat with the devil.

S. Ant. Avoid then, fiend! what tell'ft thou me of fupping?

Thou art, as you are all, a forceress :

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. Some devils afk but the parings of one's nail, a rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherry-ftone but fhe, more covetous, would have a chain. Mafter, be wife; an' if you give it her, the devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it.

Cour. I pray you, Sir, my ring, or elfe 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, fays the peacock; mistress, that you know.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholis is mad;
Elfe would he never so demean himself.

A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for the fame he promis'd me a chain;
Both one, and other, he denies me now.
The reason, that I gather, he is mad,
Befides this prefent inftance 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 houfe,
And tell his wife, that, being lunatick,
He rush'd into my houfe, and took perforce
My ring away. This courfe I fitteft chufe;
For forty ducats is too much to lofe.

SCENE VIII.

Changes to the Street.

Enter Antipholis of Ephefus, with a failor.

[Exit.

E. Ant. Fear me not, man; I will not break away; I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, fo much mony, To warrant thee, as I am 'retted for. My wife is in a wayward mood to day, And will not lightly truft the meffenger, That I should be attach'd in Ephesus, I tell you, 'twill found harthly in her ears.

Enter Dromio of Ephefus, with a Rope's end. Here comes my man; I think, he brings the mony. How now, Sir, have you that I fent 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 ferve 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 adverfity.

Offi. Good now, hold thy tongue.

E. Dro. Nay, rather perfuade him to hold his hands.
E. Ant. Thou whorson, senseless villain !

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

E. Ant. Thou art fenfible in nothing but blows, and fo is an afs.

E. Dro. I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have ferv'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 fleep; rais'd with it, when I fit; driven out of doors with it, when I go from home; welcom'd home with it, when I return; nay, I bear it on my fhoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, when he hath lam'd I fhall beg with it from door to door.

me,

SCENE

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, and Pinch.

E. Ant. Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder.

E. Dro. Mistress, refpice finem, respect your end; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, beware the rope's-end.

E. Ant. Wilt thou ftill talk?

[Beats Dromio. Cour. How fay 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 fharp he looks!
Cour. Mark how he trembles in his ecstacy!
Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your
pulfe.

E. Ant. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear. Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man, To yield poffeffion to my holy prayers;

And to thy ftate of darkness hie thee strait,

• Miftrefs, refpice finem, reSpect your end; or rather the prophecie, Like the parrot, beware the rope's-end.] Thefe words feem to allude to a famous pamphlet of that time, wrote by Buchanan against the Lord of Liddington; which ends with thefe words, Refpice finem, refpice funem. But to what purpose, unless our Author would fhew that he could quibble as well in English, as the other in Latin, I confefs I know not. As for prophefying like the perrot, this alludes to people's teaching that bird unlucky words

with which, when any paffenger was offended, it was the ftanding joke of the wife owner to fay, Take heed, Sir, my parrot prophefies. To this Butler hints, where, fpeaking of Ralpho's skill in augury, he fays,

L 4

Could tell what fubtleft parrots

I 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 diftreffed foul ! E. Ant. You minion, you, are these your customers? Did this companion with the faffron face

Revel and feaft it at my house to day,

Whilft upon me the guilty doors were fhut,
And I deny'd to enter in my my house?

Adr. Oh, hufband, God doth know, you din'd at home,

Where, 'would you had remain'd until this time,
Free from these flanders and this open fhame!

E. Ant. Din'd I at home? thou villain, what fay'st thou?

E. Dro. Sir, footh to fay, you did not dine at home. E. Ant. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I fhut

out?

E. Dro. Perdie, your doors were lock'd, and you

fhut out.

E. Ant. And did not fhe herfelf revile me there?
E. Dro. Sans fable, the herself revil'd you there.
E. Ant. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and
fcorn me?

7

E. Dro. Certes, he 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 fince have felt the vigour of your rage.

Adr. Is't good to footh him in these contraries? Pinch. It is no fhame; the fellow finds his vein, And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy. E. Ant. Thou haft, fuborn'd the goldsmith to arreft

me.

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

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