Adri.
Ay, ay, Antipholis, look strange and frown,
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, wouldst vow,
&plquo;That never words were musick to thine ear,

&plquo;That never object pleasing in thine eye,
&plquo;That never touch well welcome to thy hand,
&plquo;That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
&plquo;Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd.&prquo;
How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it,
That thou art thus estranged from thy self?
Thy self I call it, being strange to me:
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Ah, do not tear away thy self from me:
For know, my love, as easie may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulph,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thy self; and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Should'st thou but hear, I were licentious?
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate?
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin of my harlot-brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?
I know thou can'st; and therefore, see, thou do it.
^{3 note}

Keep then fair league, and truce with thy true bed;
I live distain'd, thou undishonoured.

Ant.
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.
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd,
Wants wit in all one word to understand.

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.

Ant.
By Dromio?

S. Dro.
By me?

Adr.
By thee; and thus thou didst return from him,
That he did buffet thee; and in his blows
Deny'd my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant.
Did you converse, Sir, with this gentlewoman?
What is the course and drift of your compact?

S. Dro.
I, Sir, I never saw her 'till this time.

Ant.
Villain, thou liest; for even her very words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.

S. Dro.
I never spoke with her in all my life.

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

Adr.
How ill agrees it with your gravity,
To counterfeit thus grosly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood?
Be it my wrong, ^{4 note}you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine;
&wlquo;Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine:
&wlquo;Whose weakness, marry'd to thy stronger state,
&wlquo;Makes me with thy strength to communicate;
&wlquo;If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,

&wlquo;Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
&wlquo;Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
&wlquo;Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.&wrquo;

Ant.
To me she speaks; she moves me for her theam;
What, was I marry'd to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the favour'd fallacy.

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

S. Dro.
Oh, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the Fairy land: oh, spight of spights!
^{5 note}








We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprights;
If we obey them not, this will ensue,
They'll suck our breath, and pinch us black and blue.

Luc.
Why prat'st thou to thy self, and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!

S. Dro.
I am transformed, master, am not I?

Ant.
I think, thou art in mind, and so am I.

S. Dro.
Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.

Ant.
Thou hast thine own form.

S. Dro.
No; I am an ape.

Luc.
If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass.

S. Dro.
'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass.
'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be,
But I should know her, as well as she knows me.

Adr.
Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the Eye and weep,
Whilst 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.

Ant.
Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking, mad or well advis'd?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd?
I'll say as they say, and persever so;
And in this mist at all adventures go.

S. Dro.
Master, shall I be porter at the gate?

Adr.
Ay, let none enter, lest I break your pate.

Luc.
Come, come, Antipholis, we dine too late. [Exeunt.

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