If thou had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. Luce. [Within.] What a coil is there! Dromio, who are those at the gate? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce. Faith, no; he comes too late ; And so tell your master. Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh: : Have at you with a proverb.-Shall I set in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another: that's,-When? can you tell? Dro. S. If thy name be called Luce, Luce, thou hast answer'd him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I hope? Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. S. And you said, no. Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there was blow for blow. Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. Luce. Can you tell for whose sake? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luce. Let him knock till it ake. Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down? Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town? Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noise ? Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have come before. Adr. Your wife, sir knave! go, get you from the door. Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore. Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither. Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold: It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold. Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate. Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate. Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir; and words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking; Out upon thee, hind! Dro. E. Here's too much, Out upon thee! I pray thee, let me in. Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin. Ant. E. Well, I'll break in; Go borrow me a crow. Dro. E. A crow without a feather; master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather: If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together. Ant. E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so; Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within th' compass of suspect Once this, Your long experience of her wisdom, Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; [3] To make the door, is the expression used to this day in some counties of England, instead of, to bar the door. STEEVENS. That may with foul intrusion enter in, And dwell upon your grave when you are dead: For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession. For there's the house; that chain will I bestow The same. SCENE II. Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office? shall, Antipholus, hate, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindness: if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth; Or, Muffle your false love with some show of blindness: · Let not my sister read it in your eye; Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted? Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; Being compact of credit, that you love us; Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife : 'Tis holy sport, to be a little vain,* When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show not, Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Far more, far more, to you do I decline. Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, He gains by death, that hath such means to die :- sight. Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. Luc. Why call you me love? call my sister so. Ant. S. Thy sister's sister. [4] Vain, light of tongue, not veracious. JOHNSON. Luc. That's my sister. Ant. S. No;. It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; Luc. O, soft, sir, hold you still; I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [Exit Luc. Enter, from the house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Syracuse, Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where run'st thou so fast? Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio ? am I your man? am I myself? Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself. Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself. Ant. S. What woman's man? and how besides thyself? Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee? Dro. S. Marry, sir, such a claim as you would lay to your horse; and she would have me as a beast: not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. Ant. S. What is she? Dro. S. A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir reverence : I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. Ant. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage? Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. [5] When he calls the girl his only heaven on the earth, he utters the common cant of lovers. When he calls her his heaven's claim, I cannot understand him. Perhaps he means that which he asks of heaven. JOHNSON. |