Ad.
What, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye,
That he did plead in earnest? Didst thou mark,
Look'd he or pale, or red, or sad, or merry?
What observation, tell me, couldst thou make
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face?

Luc.
First, he deny'd you had in him a right.

Ad.
He meant, he did me none—the more my wrong.

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

Ad.
And true he swore, though yet forsworn he be.

Luc.
Then pleaded I for you.

Ad.
What said he then?

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

Ad.
With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

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

Ad.
Didst speak him fair?

Luc.
Have patience, I beseech you.

Ad.
I cannot, nor I will not hold me still.
My tongue, though not my heart, must have its scope.
Oh, he is shapeless, crooked, old, and seer,
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, rude, unkind,
Deform'd in person, more deform'd in soul!

Luc.
Yet do not give such way to your affliction,
But call your better reason to your aid:—
Oh, did my brother's mind but mate his person,
Were but his conduct graceful as his visage,
What woman might with Adriana boast
So vast a fund of hymeneal bliss!
Trust then to time, and fault-repairing wisdom,
To change his mind; nor soil, with partial breath,
A form in nature's fairest colours drest.

Ad.
Oh, but I think him better than I say,
And wish him kind and fair to me alone.
Thus, lapwing-like, far from my nest I cry,
To puzzle and mislead intruding eyes,
That seek to rob me of my treasur'd bliss. Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

Dr. of Sy.
Here, go!—the desk—the purse!—sweet now, make haste.

Luc.
How hast thou lost thy breath?

Dr. of Syr.
By running fast.

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

Dr. of Syr.
No, he's in Tartar-limbo—a devil hath him;
One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel;
A fiend, a fury, pityless and rough;
A back-friend; one that commands
The passages of alleys, creeks and lanes.

Ad.

Why, man, what is the matter?

Dr. of Syr.

I do not know the matter, but he is arrested.

Ad.

Arrested, is he?—tell me, at whose suit?

Dr. of Syr.

I do not know at whose suit he is arrested, but arrested he is—and his suit to you is, that you will send him, Mistress Redemption, the money in his desk.

Ad.
Go, fetch it, sister.— [Exit Luc.
This I wonder at.
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt.
Tell me, was he arrested on a bond?

Dr. of Syr.
No, on the mart.—Come, 'tis time that I were gone. Re-enter Luciana with a Purse.

Ad.
Go, Dromio, there's the money, bear it strait,
And bring thy master home immediately. [Exit Dro.
Yet wherefore bring him home, since he has lost
All token of regard, and slights the place
Where, once, he said, his ev'ry comfort dwelt,
Why should I wish him here? and yet without him
What is this home to me?

Luc.
Some vague conceit,
The phantom of the moment, hath possest him;
It will away as soon.

Ad.
Pray, Heaven, it may;
For 'till he shake it off, no mate have I,
But jealous doubt, or dark despondency. [Exeunt.

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