Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him

home.

Dro. of Eph. Go back again, and be new beaten home!

For Heav'ns sake, send some other messenger.

Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home.

Dro. of Eph. Am I so round with you, as you with me,

That, like a foot-ball, you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither.
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
[Exit.
Luc. Fie! how impatience lowereth on your brow!
Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
While I, at home, starve for a cheerful look.
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty stole
From my poor cheek? no, he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses low? barren my wit ?
If voluble and sharp discourse be dull'd,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That's not my fault-he's master of my fortunes.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd?—Then is he the cause
Of my defeatures-my decayed beauty,
A sunny look of his would soon repair:
But, too unruly deer! he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home-poor I am left despis'd.
Luc. Self-harming jealousy! fie! beat it hence.
Adr. I know his eye doth homage other-where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a bracelet-
Some stranger fair hath caught his truant eye,
And triumphs in the gifts design'd for me.
Such trifles yet with ease I could forego,
So I were sure he left his heart at home!

I see the jewel best enameled

Will lose its lustre-So doth Adriana,
Whom once, unwearied with continual gazing,
He fondly call'd the treasure of his life!
Now, since my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and, weeping, die. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.'

The Mart.

Enter ANTIPHOLIS, of Syracuse.

Ant. of Syr. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur, and the heedful slave,

Is wander'd forth in care to seek me out.
Oh, here he comes!

Enter DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

How now, sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You knew no Centaur! you receiv'd no gold!
Your mistress sent, to have me home to dinner!
My house was at the Phoenix! wert thou mad,
That thus, so strangely thou didst answer me?
Dro. of Syr. What answer, sir? when spake I such
a word?

Ant. of Syr. Ev'n now, ev'n here; not half an hour

since.

Dro. of Syr. I did not see you, since you sent me hence

Home, to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. of Syr. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt,

And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st, I was displeased.
Dro. of Syr. I'm glad to see you in this merry vein;
What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me?
Ant. of Syr. What, dost thou jeer, and flout me in
the teeth?

Think'st thou, I jest? there, take thou that, and that! Dro. of Syr. Hold, sir, for Heaven's sake!-now your jest is earnest

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. of Syr. Because that I, familiarly, sometimes, Do use you for my fool, and chat with Your sauciness will jest upon my love,

you,

And make a common of my serious hours.
When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport,
But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams.
If you will jest with me, then know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanor to my looks.
Dro. of Syr. I pray, sir, why am I beaten?
Ant. of Syr. Dost thou not know?

Dro. of Syr. Nothing, but that I am beaten.
Ant. of Syr. Why, first, for flouting me, aud then,
for urging

It, in spite of my assertion to the contrary.

Is dinner ready?

Dro. of Syr. No, sir, I think the meat wants what I've got.

Ant. of Syr. What's that?

Dro. of Syr. Why, basting, sir.

Ant. of Syr. No more, thou knave! for see, who wafts us yonder,

This way they haste, and, by their gestures, seem To point out me-what should they mean, I trow?

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholis, look strange and frown, Some other mistress hath some sweeter aspect: I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, would'st vow,
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object, pleasing in thine eye,

That never touch were welcome to thine hand,
That never food, well savour'd to the taste,
Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd.
How comes it now, my husband, oh! how comes it,
That thou art thus estranged to thyself?
Thyself, I call it, being strange to me~
Oh, do not tear thyself away from me!
For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,

And take unmingled thence, that drop again,
As take from me thyself.

Ant. of Syr. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know

you not;

In Ephesus, I am but two hours old,

As strange unto your town, as to your talk.

Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is chang'd with you!

When were you wont to use my sister thus?
She sent for you, by Dromio, home to dinner.
Ant. of Syr. By Dromio?

Dro. of Syr. By me!

Adr. By thee, and thus thou didst return from him, That he did buffet thee, and in his blows,

Denied my house for his, me, for his wife.

Ant. of Syr. Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?

Dro. of Syr. I, sir? I never saw her till this moment!

Ant. of Syr. Villain, thou liest! for even her very words

Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.

Dro. of Syr. I never spoke with her in all my life. Ant. of Syr. How can she then thus call us by

our names,

Unless it be by inspiration?

Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity,
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood!
Come, I will fasten thus upon thy arm;
Thou art an elm, my husband, I, a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Shares in thy virtues, and partakes thy strength.
If ought possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, idle moss, or briar,

Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy destruction.

Ant. of Syr. To me she speaks-she moves me for her theme

What, was I married to her, in my sleep?
Or sleep I now, and dream I hear all this?
What error thus deceives our eyes and cars?
Yet, that the mystery I may explore,

I'll seem to entertain the fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner. Dro. of Syr. Meaning me?

Luc. Ay, thee, thou slug!

Dro. of Syr. Spread for dinner?

Ant. of Syr. Am I alive? Am I Antipholis ? Sleeping, or waking? Mad, or well-advis'd?

Known unto these, yet to myself unknown;

Fain would I learn from whence these wonders flow; But, that I almost fear to trace the source,

So strange is every thing I see and hear.

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye, and weep.

While man and master laugh my woes to scorn.
Come, sir, to dinner--Dromio, keep the gate-
Husband, I'll dine above with you, to-day,
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks.
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter.
Come, sister-Dromio, play the porter well.

[Exit, with LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLIS.