An. 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 Phœnix! wert thou mad,
That thus so strangely thou did'st answer me?

Dr. of Syr.
What answer, sir? when spake I such a word?

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

Dr. of Syr.
I did not see you, since you sent me hence
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.

An. of Syr.
Villain, thou did'st 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.

Dr. of Syr.
I'm glad to see you in this merry vein;
What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me?

An. of Syr.
What, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth?
Think'st thou I jest? there take thou that, and that.

Dr. of Syr.
Hold, sir, for heaven's sake; now your jest is earnest—
Upon what bargain do you give it me?

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

Dr. of Syr.
I pray, sir, why am I beaten?

An. of Syr.
Dost thou not know?

Dr. of Syr.
Nothing, but that I am beaten.

An. of Syr.
Why first, for flouting me, and then for urging
It in spight of my assertion to the contrary.
Is dinner ready?

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

An. of Syr.
What's that?

Dr. of Syr.
Why basting, sir!

An. 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.

Ad.
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, wou'dst 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 gulph,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
As take from me thyself.—
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Should'st thou but hear I were licentious?
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn me from thee,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,
Yea, from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?—
I know thou wou'd'st, and therefore see thou do it!
For if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy crimes.
Keep then fair league, and truce with thy true bed,
I live unstain'd, thou undishonoured.

An. 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.

An. of Syr.
By Dromio?

Dr. of Syr.
By me!

Ad.
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.

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

Dr. of Syr.
I, sir!—I never saw her, 'till this moment.

An. of Syr.
Villain, thou liest, for even her very words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.

Dr. of Syr.
I never spoke with her in all my life.

An. of Syr.
How can she then thus call us by our names,
Unless it be by inspiration?

Ad.
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 aught 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.

An. of Syr.
To me she speaks—she moves me for her theam—
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 ears?
Yet, that the mystery I may explore,
I'll seem to entertain the fallacy.

Luc.
Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.

Dr. of Syr.
Meaning me?

Luc.
Ay, thee, thou slug!

Dr. of Syr.
Spread for dinner!

An. 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.

Ad.
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. [Exeunt. Manet Dromio of Syracuse.

Dr. of Syr.
Spread for dinner. I am afraid I shall
Be somewhat aukward, as I am not
Acquainted with the ways of the house,
Tho' I suppose they'll be so courteous
As to instruct a new-comer. Ay, there they go—
The house with the green doors, and have taken
My master with 'em; I must follow—Sure
We are in the fairy land, and converse with
'Sprights and goblins. I wish they may'nt have
Infected my poor master already; for, even
Now, he swore to a discourse, I held with him
On the Mart; when I can swear, I was talking
To the strong box at the Centaur.—Mighty odd
All this! However, my comfort is, that whatsoever
Mischief we light on, the master takes place
Of the servant, and must fall into it first. [Exit.

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