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. [Exit.

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.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

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