Ant.
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.
By computation, and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the mart. See, 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 know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phœnix? wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me?

S. Dro.
What answer, Sir? when spake I such a word?

Ant.
Even now, even here, not half an hour since.

S. Dro.
I did not see you since you sent me hence
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.

Ant.
Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt;
And told'st me of a mistess, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.

S. Dro.
I'm glad to see you in this merry vein:
What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me?

Ant.
Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth?
Think'st thou, I jest? hold, take thou that, and that. [Beats Dro.

S. Dro.
Hold, Sir, for God's sake, now your jest is earnest;
Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant.
Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you,
Your sawciness 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, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks;
Or I will ^{2 note}beat this method in your sconce.

S. Dro.

Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head; an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it too, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders: but, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten?

Ant.

Dost thou not know?

S. Dro.

Nothing, Sir, but that I am beaten.

Ant.

Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro.

Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore.

Ant.

Why, first, for flouting me; and then wherefore, for urging it the second time to me.

S. Dro.
Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season,
When, in the why, and wherefore, is neither rhime nor reason?
Well, Sir, I thank you.

Ant.

Thank me, Sir, for what?

S. Dro.

Marry, Sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing.

Ant.

I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, Sir, is it dinner-time?

S. Dro.

No, Sir, I think, the meat wants that I have.

Ant.

In good time, Sir, what's that?

S. Dro.

Basting.

Ant.

Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.

S. Dro.

If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.

Ant.

Your reason?

S. Dro.

Lest it make you cholerick, and purchase me another dry-basting.

Ant.

Well, Sir, learn to jest in good time; there's a time for all things.

S. Dro.

I durst have deny'd that, before you were so cholerick.

Ant.

By what rule, Sir?

S. Dro.

Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself.

Ant.

Let's hear it.

S. Dro.

There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant.

May he not do it by fine and recovery?

S. Dro.

Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the lost hair of another man.

Ant.

Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?

S. Dro.

Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts; and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given (a) ^notethem in wit.

Ant.

Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit.

S. Dro.

Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair.

Ant.

Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.

S. Dro.

The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity.

Ant.

For what reason?

S. Dro.

For two, and sound ones too.

Ant.

Nay, not sound, I pray you.

S. Dro.

Sure ones then.

Ant.

Nay, not sure in a thing falsing.

S. Dro.

Certain ones then.

Ant.

Name them.

S. Dro.

The one to save the money that he spends in trying ^note; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge.

Ant.

You would all this time have prov'd, there is no time for all things.

S. Dro.

Marry, and did, Sir; namely, no time to recover hair lost by nature.

Ant.

But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover.

S. Dro.

Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and therefore to the world's end will have bald followers.

Ant.

I knew, 'twould be a bald conclusion: but, soft! who wafts us yonder?