S. Dro.
Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?

E. Ant.
Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou imbark'd?

S. Dro.
Your goods, that lay at host, Sir, in the Centaur.

S. Ant.
He speaks to me; I am your master, Dromio.
Come, go with us, we'll look to that anon;
Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him. [Exeunt Antipholis S. and E.

S. Dro.
There is a fat friend at your master's house,
That kitchen'd me for you to day at dinner:

She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

E. Dro.
Methinks, you are my glass, and not my brother:
I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth:
Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

S. Dro.
Not I, Sir; you're my elder.

E. Dro.
That's a question:
How shall I try it?

S. Dro.
We'll draw cuts for the senior:
'Till then, lead thou first.

E. Dro.
Nay, then thus— [Embracing.
We came into the world, like brother and brother:
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. [Exeunt.

THE WINTER's TALE.

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