Mer.
Therefore give out, you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day a Syracusan merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west:
There is your mony that I had to keep.

Ant.
Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,
And stay there, Dromio, 'till I come to thee:
'Till that I'll view the manners of the town,
Within this hour it will be dinner-time,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return and sleep within mine inn;
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.

Dro.
Many a man would take you at your word,

And go indeed, having so good a means. [Exit Dromio.

Ant.
A trusty villain, Sir, that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town,
And then go to the inn and dine with me?

Mer.
I am invited, Sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit:
I crave your pardon. Soon at five a clock,
Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,
And afterward consort you 'till bed-time:
My present business calls me from you now.

Ant.
Farewel 'till then; I will go lose my self,
And wander up and down to view the city.

Mer.
Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Ex. Mer.

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