Adr.
Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
  Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no?
  Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad, or merrily?
What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face^{2 note}

Luc.
First he deny'd you had in him no right.

Adr.
He meant, he did me none; the more my spight.

Luc.
Then swore he, that he was a stranger here.

Adr.
And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were.

Luc.
Then pleaded I for you.

Adr.
And what said he?

Luc.
That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me.

Adr.
With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

Luc.
With words, that in an honest suit might move.
First, he did praise my beauty; then, my speech.

Adr.
Did'st speak him fair?

Luc.
Have patience, I beseech.

Adr.
I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have its will.
He is deformed, crooked, old and ^{3 note}sere,
Ill-fac'd, worse-body'd, shapeless every where;
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind;
^{4 note}

Luc.
Who would be jealous then of such a one?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.

Adr.
Ah! but I think him better than I say,
  And yet, would herein others' eyes were worse:
^{5 note}

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

S. Dro.
Here, go; the desk, the purse; sweet now, make haste.

Luc.
How, hast thou lost thy breath?

S. Dro.
By running fast.

Adr.
Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?

S. Dro.
No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell:
A devil in an everlasting^{6 note}


garment hath him,
One, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel;
A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough^{7 note}

One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to hell^{1 note}

Adr.
Why, man, what is the matter?

S. Dro.
I do not know the matter; he is 'rested on the case^{2 note}.

Adr.
What, is he arrested? tell me, at whose suit.

S. Dro.
I know not at whose suit he is arrested, well;
But he's in a suit of buff, which 'rested him, that I can tell:

Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk?

Adr.
Go fetch it, sister.—This I wonder at, [Exit Luciana.
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt!
Tell me, was he arrested on a band^{3 note}

S. Dro.
Not on a band, but on a stronger thing;
A chain, a chain; do you not hear it ring?

Adr.
What, the chain?

S. Dro.
No, no; the bell: 'tis time, that I were gone.
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.

Adr.
The hours come back! that I did never hear.

S. Dro.
O yes, If any hour meet a serjeant, a'turns back for very fear.

Adr.
As if time were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason?

S. Dro.
Time is a very bankrout, and owes more than he's worth, to season.
Nay, he's a thief too: Have you not heard men say,
That time comes stealing on by night and day?
If time be in debt^{4 note}, and theft, and a serjeant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? Enter Luciana.

Adr.
Go, Dromio; there's the money, bear it strait;
  And bring thy master home immediately.—
Come, sister: I am press'd down with conceit;
  Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt.

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