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 fpurn me hither: If I laft in this fervice, you must cafe me in leather. [Exit.

Luc. Fy, how impatience lowreth in your face!
Ard. His company muft do his minions grace,
Whilft I at home ftarve for a merry book.
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it.
Are my difcourfes dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and fharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay veftments his affections bait?
That's not my fault: he's mafter of my state.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A funny look of his would foon repair.
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his ftale.
Luc. Self-harming jealoufy!-fy, beat it hence..
Adr. Unfeeling fools can. with fuch wrongs dif
penie.

I know his eye doth homage other-where;
Or elfe what letts it, but he would be here?
Sifter, you know he promis'd me a chain;
Would that alone, alone, he would derajn,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I fee the jewel best enamelled,

Will lofe his beauty; and the gold 'bides ftill*,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold and so no man that hath a name,.
But falfehood and corruption doth it fhame.

The Revifal reads thus,

-yet the gold 'bides still

That others touch, though often touching will
Wear gold, and fo a man that hath a name,
By falichood and corruption, doth it shame..

Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools ferve mad jealoufy!
[Exeunt.

Changes to the Street.

Enter Antipholis of Syracufe.

Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur: and the heedful flave
Is wander'd forth in care to feek me out.
By computation, and mine hoft's report,
I could not fpeak with Dromio, fince at first
I fent him from the mart. See, here he comes
Enter Dromio of Syracufe.

How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress fent to have me home to dinner?
My houfe was at the Phoenix? Waft thou mad,
That thus fo madly thou didst answer me?

S. Dro. What answer, Sir? when spoke I such 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. Villian, thou didst deny the gold's receipt, And told'st me of a miftrefs, and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was difpleas'd. S. Dro. I'm glad to see you in this merry vein: What means this jeft, I pray you, master, tell me?

that..

Ant. Yea, doft thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think'st thou I jeft? Hold, take thou that, and [Beats Dro. S. Dro. Hold, Sir, for God's fake, now your jeft is earnest;

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. Because 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 jeft with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanor to my looks,
Or I will beat this method in your fconce.

S. Dro. Sconce, call you it? fo you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head. An you use thefe blows long, I must get a fconce for my head, and infconce it too, or else I fhall feek my wit in my fhoulders. But I pray, Sir, why am I beaten? Ant. Doft thou not know?

S. Dro. Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten.
Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for they fay every why hath a wherefore.

Ant. Why, firft, for flouting me; and then, wherefore, for urging it the second time to me. S. Dro. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of feason,

When, in the why, and wherefore, is neither rhime nor reafon?

Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant. Thank me, Sir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, for this fomething that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for fomething. But fay, Sir, is it dinner-time? S. Dro. No, Sir, I think the meat wants that I have.

Ant. In good time, Sir, what's that?
S. Dro. Bafting.

Ant. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.

S. Dro. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it. Ant. Your reason?

S. Dro. Left it make you choleric, and purchafe me another dry-bafting.

Ant. Well, Sir, learn to jeft in good time; there's a time for all things.

S. Dra. I durft have deny'd that, before you were fo choleric.

Aut. By what rule, Sir?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself.

Ant. Let's hear it.

S. Dro. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. May he not do it by fine and recovery? S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the loft hair of another man.

Ant. Why is Time fuch a niggard of hair, being, as it is, fo plentiful an excrement?

S. Dro. Because it is a bleffing that he bestows on beafts; and what he hath fcanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.

Ant. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit.

S. Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair.

Ant. Why, thou didft conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.

S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the fooner loft; yet he lofeth it in a kind of jollity.

Ant. For what reafon?

S. Dro. For two, and found ones too.
Ant. Nay, not found, I pray you.

S. Dro. Sure ones then.

Ant. Nay, not fure in a thing falfing †.
S. Dro. Certain ones then.

Ant. Name them.

S. Dro. The one to fave the money that he fpends in tyring; the other, that at dinner they fhould not drop in his porridge.

Ant. You would all this time have prov'd, there is no time for all things.

S. Dro Marry, and did, Sir; namely, no time to recover hair loft by nature.

Ant. But your reason was not fubftantial, why there is no time to recover.

S. Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald,

and therefore to the world's end will have bald followers.

Ant. I knew 'twould be a bald conclufion: but, foft! who wafts us yonder?

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholis, look ftrange, and frown;
Some other mistress hath thy fweet afpects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, wouldft vow,
That never words were mufic to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That touch well never welcome to thy hand,
That never meat fweet-favour'd in thy tafte,
Unless I fpake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd.
How comes it now, my husband; oh, how comes in
That thou art thus eftranged from thy felf?
Thyfelf I call it, being ftrange to me:
That undividable, incorporate,

Am better than thy dear felf's better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me:
For know, my love, as eafy may'ft thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulph,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,

As take from me thyfelf, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Shouldft thou but hear I were licentious?
And that this body, confecrate to thee,
By ruffian luft fhould be contaminate?
Wouldst thou not fpit at me, and fpurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the ftain'd fkin of my harlot-brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?

I know thou canst; and therefore, fee thou do it.
I am poffefs'd with an adulterate blot;
My blood is mingled with the crime of luft*:

Both the integrity of the metaphor, and the word blot, in the preceding line, fhew that we fhould read, -with the grime of luft: i. e. the stain, fmut. Warb.