Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lafh'd with woe. There's nothing fituate under Heaven's eye, But hath its bound in earth, in fea, in fky: The beafts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their male's fubjects, and at their controlls: Man, more divine, the master of all these, Lord of the wide world, and wide wat'ry feas, Endu'd with intellectual fenfe and foul, Of more preheminence than fifh and fowl, Are masters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords. Adr. This fervitude makes you to keep unwed. Luc. Ere I learn love I'll practise to obey. They can be meek that have no other caufe: But were we burdened with like weight of pain, Luc. Well, I will marry one day but to try. Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh. Enter DROMIO of Ephefus. 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, didit thou fpeak with him? knoweft thou his mind? E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: Befhrew his hand, I fcarce could understand it. Luc. Spake he fo doubtfully thou couldest 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 pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. E. Dro. Why, miftrefs, fure my mafter is horn Adr. Horn mad, thou villain? [mad. E. Dro. I mean not cuckold mad; but fure he's ftark mad. When I defired him to come home to dinner, E. Dro. Quoth my master: I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress; I thank him, I bare home upon my fhoulders: Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. E. Dro. Go back again, and be new beaten home: For God's fake fend fome other meffeager. Adr. Back, flave, or I will break thy pate across. E. Dro. And he will blefs that crofs with other Between you I fhall have a holy head. [beating: dr. Hence, prating peafant, fetch thy mafter home.. E. Dro. Am I fo round with you as you with me, That like a foot-ball you do fpurn me thus? You fpurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I lat in this fervice, you must cafe me in leather. [Exit. I know his eye doth homage other-where; (5) I fee the jewel best enamelled Will lofe his beauty; yet the gold bides ftill Will lofe his beauty; and the gold bides ftill, SCENE changes to the Street. Enter ANTIPHOLIS of Syracufe. Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up How now, Sir? is your merry humour altered? Where gold and no man that hath a name, By falfebool and corruption doth it flame.] In this mife. rably mangled condition is this paffage exhibited in the first folio. All the editions fince have left out the last couplet of it; I prefume, as too hard for them. Mr Pope, who pretends to have collated the firft folio, fhould have fpared us the lines, at least, in their corruption.- ----I communica ted my doubts upon this paffage to my friend Mi Warbur ton; and to his fagacity I owe, in good part, the correction of it. The fenfe of the whole is now very pertinent; which, without the two lines from the firft folio, was very imperfect, not to fay ridiculous. The comparison is fully clofed. "Gold, indeed, bides handling well; but, for all that, of"ten touching will wear even gold: So, no man of a great "character, even as pure as gold, but may in time fole "it by falfehood and corruption.” You know no Centaur? you received no gold? S. Dro. What anfwer, Sir? when fpake I fuch a word? Ant. Even now, even here, not half an hour fince. S. Dro. I did not fee you fince you fent 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 mistress and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'ft I was difpleafed. S. Dro. I'm glad to fee you in this merry vein: What means this jeft, I pray you, mafter, tell me? Ant. Yea, doft thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Thinkeft thou I jest? hold, take thou that, and that. [Beats Dromio. S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jest is carneft; Upon what bargain do you give it me? Ant. Becaufe that I familiarly fometimes Do ufe you for my fool, and chat with you, Your fawcinefs will jeft upon my love, And make a common of my ferious hours. When the fun fhines, let foolish gnats make fport; But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams: If you will jet with me, know my afpect, And fathion your demeanor to my looks; Or I will beat this method in your iconce. S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? fo you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head; an -you ufe thefe blows long, I must get a fconce for my head, and infconce it too, or clfe I fhall feek my wit in fhoulders: but, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten? Ant. Doft thou not know? my S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten. |