Ant. 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.
O! 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 didst answer me!

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

Ant. 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.

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

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

Ant. 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 heav'n's sake: now your jest is earnest:
Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. 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 demeanour to my looks.

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

Ant. of Syr.
Dost thou not know?

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

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

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

Ant. of Syr.
What's that?

Dr. of Syr.
Why, basting, sir.

Ant. 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.

Adr.
Aye, aye, Antipholis; look strange and frown;
Some other mistress hath some sweeter aspect:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
How comes it now, my husband, O! how comes it,
That thou art thus estranged to thyself?
Thyself, I call it, being strange to me.
O! do not tear thyself away from me;
For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
As take from me thyself.

Ant 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 changed with you!
When were you wont to use my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.

Ant of Syr.
By Dromio?

Dr. of Syr.
By me?

Adr.
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.

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

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

Ant. of Syr.
Villain, thou liest; for e'en her very words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.

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

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

Adr.
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 brier,
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy destruction.

Ant. of Syr.
To me she speaks,—she moves me for her theme.—
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!

Ant. 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.

Adr.
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 Adriana, Antipholis of Syracuse, and Luciana.

Dr. of Syr.
Spread for dinner! I am afraid, I shall
Be somewhat aukward, as I am not well
Acquainted with the customs of the house:
Though, I suppose, they'll be so courteous
To teach a new-comer—particularly your ladies in waiting—
Aye, there they go.—
And have taken my master with 'em. Sure,

We are in the land of fairies, and converse
With sprites and goblins. I wish they mayn't have
Infected my poor master; for, even now,
He swore to a discourse, I held with him
Here on the mart; when, I can swear, I was
Talking to the strong box yonder at the Centaur.—
Mighty odd all this!—(voice without)—Dromio, Dromio—
Oh! a lady in waiting—
Dear, sweet, unknown! thy doating Dromio comes. [Exit. Enter Antipholis of Ephesus, Balthazar, Cerimon, and others.

Ant. of Eph.
I do repent me I have staid so long.
Good night, Balthazar.

Bal.
Prithee, Antipholis, be more resolv'd—
And by bold remedy still try to cure
Your lady's malady.

Ant. of Eph.
Aye—in due time—but now—

Bal.
Well—for to-night return—
But if she welcome you with taunts and jeers,
Tell her your friends grow jealous in their turn,
And missing you, in your accustom'd sports,
Will, ere the dawn shall gild yon mountains' tops,
Once more awake you with the hunter's peal.

Ant. of Eph. (smiling with satisfaction.)
The hunter's peal!

Cer.
Aye—your old pastime!—to the chace my friend;
And there, if foremost, and you kill the deer—

Ant. of Eph.
The thought inspires me!—and if we fail
In this our wonted sport—still as before
We can recline beneath the greenwood tree
And sing, and laugh at the world's empty
Vain pursuits.
GLEE.—(As you Like it.)
  Under the greenwood tree,
  Who loves to lie with me,
  And tune his merry note
  Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
    Here shall he see
    No enemy,
But winter and rough weather. [Exeunt. END OF THE SECOND ACT.

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