Ant. of Syr.
O, subtle power! O, soil too capable!
Scarce had her sun of beauty warm'd my heart,
When the gay flower of love, disclosing fragrance,
Sprung up at once, and blossom'd to perfection,
Ere well the bud was seen.— Enter Dromio of Syracuse, from the House; he passes Antipholis without seeing him, and is hastening off.
Why, how now, Dromio?
Where run'st thou so fast?

Dr. of Syr.

Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself?

Ant. of Syr.

Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.

Dr. of Syr.

I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and beside myself.

Ant. of Syr.

What woman's man? and how beside thyself?

Dr. of Syr.

Marry, sir, beside myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

Ant. of Syr.

What claim lays she to thee?

Dr. of Syr.

Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse.

Ant. of Syr.

What is she?

Dr. of Syr.

A very reverend body; and, though I have but lean luck in the match, yet she is a wond'rous fat marriage: Sir, she's the kitchen-wench, all grease; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light.

Ant. of Syr.

I'll warrant, the rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter.

Dr. of Syr.

They would, indeed, sir: to conclude; this drudge laid claim to me, called me Dromio, swore I was betrothed to her, told me what secret marks I had about me; as the marks on my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm; that I, amazed, ran from her, as a witch; and, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she would have transform'd me to a curtal dog, and made me turn in the wheel.

Ant. of Syr.
Sure, none but witches can inhabit here;
And therefore 'tis high time that we were hence.
Go, hie thee presently, post to the road;
And if the wind blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this town to-night.
If any bark put forth, come to the mart.

Dr. of Syr.
I fly with joy; for now I shall be blown safe,

From this same scullion—this mountain of mad flesh. [As he is going off, the fat Kitchen Wench suddenly throws up the window in Antipholis's house, and shakes her fist at him.

Kitch. W.
Come back, or I'll so baste thee Dromio.

Dr. of Syr.
'Tis she;
As from a bear, a man would run for life,
So I from her, who swears she is my wife! [Exit Dromio.

Ant. of Syr.
'Tis all illusion!—Who comes now? Enter Angelo with a Bracelet.

Ang.
Master Antipholis,—

Ant. of Syr.
Ay, that's my name.

Ang.
I know it well, sir:—Lo, here is the bracelet:—
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine;
It being unfinish'd, made my stay thus long.

Ant. of Syr.
What is your will that I should do with this?

Ang.
Ev'n what you please, sir: I have made it for you.

Ant. of Syr.
Made it for me, sir: I never once bespoke it.

Ang.
Not once, nor twice, but twenty times, you have.
Go home with it, and please your wife withall:
About your supper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my money for the bracelet.

Ant. of Syr.
I pray you, sir, since you will force it on me,
Receive the money now;
For fear you ne'er see that, or jewels, more.

Ang.
You are a merry man, sir:—Fare you well. [Exit Angelo.

Ant. of Syr.
Wonder on wonder rises every moment!
What I should think of this, I cannot tell:
However strange, here on my arm I'll wear it,
Preserve it safe, as fortune's happy pledge:
Oft' as I look on it, I'll heave a sigh,
And say, the self-same hour that gave thee to me,
Gave me to gaze on Luciana's eyes:
So will I make a profit of a chance,
And treasure up a comfort in affliction.
Unwillingly I go: my wounded soul,
Howe'er from Ephesus my body part,
Lingers behind in Luciana's heart. [Exit.

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