[Transcriber’s Note:
This text of _The Comedy of Errors_ is from Volume I of the nine-volume
1863 Cambridge edition of Shakespeare. The Preface (e-text 23041) and
the other plays from this volume are each available as separate
e-texts.
General Notes are in their original location at the end of the play.
Text-critical notes are grouped at the end of each Scene. All line
numbers are from the original text; line breaks in dialogue--including
prose passages--are unchanged. Brackets are also unchanged; to avoid
ambiguity, footnotes and linenotes are given without added brackets.
In the notes, numerals printed as subscripts are shown inline as
F1, F2, Q1...
Texts cited in the Notes are listed at the end of the e-text.]
THE WORKS
of
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Edited by
WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M.A.
Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College, and Public Orator
in the University of Cambridge;
and JOHN GLOVER, M.A.
Librarian Of Trinity College, Cambridge.
_VOLUME I._
Cambridge and London:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1863.
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ[1].
SOLINUS[2], duke of Ephesus.
ÆGEON, a merchant of Syracuse.
ANTIPHOLUS[3] of Ephesus, } twin brothers, and sons to
ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, } Ægeon and Æmilia.
DROMIO of Ephesus, } twin brothers, and attendants on
DROMIO of Syracuse, } the two Antipholuses.
BALTHAZAR, a merchant.
ANGELO, a goldsmith.
First Merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse.
Second Merchant, to whom Angelo is a debtor.
PINCH, a schoolmaster.
ÆMILIA, wife to Ægeon, an abbess at Ephesus.
ADRIANA, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus.
LUCIANA, her sister.
LUCE, servant to Adriana.
A Courtezan.
Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.
_SCENE--Ephesus._
FOOTNOTES:
1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ first given by Rowe.
2: SOLINUS] See note (I).
3: ANTIPHOLUS] See note (I).
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.
ACT I.
_SCENE I. A hall in the DUKE’S palace._
_Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, _Gaoler_, _Officers_, and other _Attendants_._
_Æge._ Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And by the doom of death end woes and all.
_Duke._ Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord which of late 5
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,
Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives,
Have seal’d his rigorous statutes with their bloods,
Excludes all pity from our threatening looks. 10
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
’Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusians and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns: 15
Nay, more,
If any born at Ephesus be seen
At any Syracusian marts and fairs;
Again: if any Syracusian born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, 20
His goods confiscate to the duke’s dispose;
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; 25
Therefore by law thou art condemn’d to die.
_Æge._ Yet this my comfort: when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
_Duke._ Well, Syracusian, say, in brief, the cause
Why thou departed’st from thy native home, 30
And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus.
_Æge._ A heavier task could not have been imposed
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable:
Yet, that the world may witness that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, 35
I’ll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me, had not our hap been bad.
With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased 40
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum; till my factor’s death,
And the great care of goods at random left,
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months old, 45
Before herself, almost at fainting under
The pleasing punishment that women bear,
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon and safe arrived where I was.
There had she not been long but she became 50
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;
And, which was strange, the one so like the other
As could not be distinguish’d but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A meaner woman was delivered 55
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return: 60
Unwilling I agreed; alas! too soon
We came aboard.
A league from Epidamnum had we sail’d,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm: 65
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death;
Which though myself would gladly have embraced, 70
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn’d for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forced me to seek delays for them and me. 75
And this it was, for other means was none:
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:
My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten’d him unto a small spare mast, 80
Such as seafaring men provide for storms;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other:
The children thus disposed, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix’d, 85
Fasten’d ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispersed those vapours that offended us; 90
And, by the benefit of his wished light,
The seas wax’d calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came,--O, let me say no more! 95
Gather the sequel by that went before.
_Duke._ Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so;
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
_Æge._ O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term’d them merciless to us! 100
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
We were encounter’d by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst;
So that, in this unjust divorce of us, 105
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind; 110
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seized on us;
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck’d guests; 115
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail;
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
Thus have you heard me sever’d from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong’d, 120
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
_Duke._ And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Do me the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall’n of them and thee till now.
_Æge._ My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, 125
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother: and importuned me
That his attendant--so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain’d his name--
Might bear him company in the quest of him: 130
Whom whilst I labour’d of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus; 135
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warrant me they live. 140
_Duke._ Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have mark’d
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul, 145
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recall’d
But to our honour’s great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can. 150
Therefore, merchant, I’ll limit thee this day
To seek thy help by beneficial help:
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if no, then thou art doom’d to die. 155
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
_Gaol._ I will, my lord.
_Æge._ Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend,
But to procrastinate his lifeless end.
[_Exeunt._
NOTES: I, 1.
A hall ... palace.] Malone. The Duke’s palace. Theobald.
A publick Place. Capell.
ÆGEON,] Rowe. with the Merchant of Siracusa, Ff.
Officers,] Capell. Officer, Staunton. om. Ff.
1: _Solinus_] F1. _Salinus_ F2 F3 F4.
10: _looks_] _books_ Anon. conj.
14: _Syracusians_] F4. _Siracusians_ F1 F2 F3. _Syracusans_ Pope.
See note (I).
16, 17, 18: _Nay more If ... seen At any_] Malone.
_Nay, more, if ... Ephesus Be seen at any_ Ff.
18: _any_] om. Pope.
23: _to ransom_] F1. _ ransom_ F2 F3 F4.
27: _this_] _’tis_ Hanmer.
33: _griefs_] F1. _griefe_ F2. _grief_ F3 F4.
35: _nature_] _fortune_ Collier MS.
39: _by me_] F1. _by me too_ F2 F3 F4.
42: _Epidamnum_] Pope. _Epidamium_ Ff. _Epidamnium_ Rowe.
See note (I).
43: _the_] _then_ Edd. conj.
_the ... care ... left_] Theobald. _he ... care ... left_ F1.
_he ... store ... leaving_ F2 F3 F4.
_heed ... caves ... left_ Jackson conj.
_random_] F3 F4. _randone_ F1 F2.
50: _had she_] Ff. _she had_ Rowe.
55: _meaner_] Delius (S. Walker conj.). _meane_ F1. _poor meane_ F2.
_poor mean_ F3 F4.
56: _burden, male twins_] _burthen male, twins_ F1.
61, 62: So Pope. One line in Ff.
61: _soon_] _soon!_] Pope. _soon._ Capell.
70: _gladly_] _gently_ Collier MS.
71: _weepings_] F1. _weeping_ F2 F3 F4.
76: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS.
79: _latter-_] _elder-_ Rowe.
86: _either end the mast_] _th’ end of either mast_ Hanmer.
87, 88: _And ... Was_] Ff. _And ... Were_ Rowe.
_Which ... Was_ Capell.
91: _wished_] F1. _wish’d_ F2 F3 F4.
92: _seas wax’d_] _seas waxt_ F1. _seas waxe_ F2. _seas wax_ F3.
_seas was_ F4. _sea was_ Rowe.
94: _Epidaurus_] _Epidarus_ F1. _Epidamnus_ Theobald conj.
103: _upon_] Pope. _up_ F1 _up upon_ F2 F3 F4.
104: _helpful_] _helpless_ Rowe.
113: _another_] _the other_ Hanmer.
115: _healthful_] F1. _helpful_ F2 F3 F4.
117: _bark_] _backe_ F1.
120: _That_] _Thus_ Hanmer. _Yet_ Anon. conj.
122: _sake_] F1. _sakes_ F2 F3 F4.
124: _hath ... thee_] _have ... they_ F1.
_of_] om. F4.
128: _so_] F1. _for_ F2 F3 F4.
130: _the_] om. Pope.
131: _I labour’d of a_] _he labour’d of all_ Collier MS.
144, 145: These lines inverted by Hanmer.
145: _princes, would they, may_] Hanmer. _Princes would they may_ F1.
_Princes would, they may_ F2 F3 F4.
151: _Therefore, merchant, I’ll_] Ff. _Therefore merchant, I_ Rowe.
_I, therefore, merchant_ Pope. _I’ll, therefore, merchant_ Capell.
152: _help ... help_] Ff. _life ... help_ Pope.
_help ... means_ Steevens conj. _hope ... help_ Collier.
_fine ... help_ Singer.
_by_] _thy_ Jackson conj.
155: _no_] _not_ Rowe.
156: _Gaoler,_] _Jailor, now_ Hanmer. _So, jailer,_ Capell.
159: _lifeless_] Warburton. _liveless_ Ff.
_SCENE II. The Mart._
_Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_, _DROMIO of Syracuse_, and
_First Merchant_._
_First Mer._ Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day a Syracusian merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life, 5
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.
_Ant. S._ Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 10
Within this hour it will be dinner-time:
Till that. I’ll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return, and sleep within mine inn;
For with long travel I am stiff and weary. 15
Get thee away.
_Dro. S._ Many a man would take you at your word,
And go indeed, having so good a mean. [_Exit._
_Ant. S._ A trusty villain, sir; that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy, 20
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town,
And then go to my inn, and dine with me?
_First Mer._ I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit; 25
I crave your pardon. Soon at five o’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. S._ Farewell till then: I will go lose myself, 30
And wander up and down to view the city.
_First Mer._ Sir, I commend you to your own content. [_Exit._
_Ant. S._ He that commends me to mine own content
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water, 35
That in the ocean seeks another drop;
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So I, to find a mother and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 40
_Enter _DROMIO of Ephesus_._
Here comes the almanac of my true date.
What now? how chance thou art return’d so soon?
_Dro. E._ Return’d so soon! rather approach’d too late:
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; 45
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast; 50
But we, that know what ’tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.
_Ant. S._ Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, I pray:
Where have you left the money that I gave you?
_Dro. E._ O,--sixpence, that I had o’ Wednesday last 55
To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper?
The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not.
_Ant. S._ I am not in a sportive humour now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how darest thou trust 60
So great a charge from thine own custody?
_Dro. E._ I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner:
I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed,
For she will score your fault upon my pate. 65
Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
_Ant. S._ Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? 70
_Dro. E._ To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me.
_Ant. S._ Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,
And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge.
_Dro. E._ My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phœnix, sir, to dinner: 75
My mistress and her sister stays for you.
_Ant. S._ Now, as I am a Christian, answer me,
In what safe place you have bestow’d my money;
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am undisposed: 80
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?
_Dro. E._ I have some marks of yours upon my pate,
Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders;
But not a thousand marks between you both.
If I should pay your worship those again, 85
Perchance you will not bear them patiently.
_Ant. S._ Thy mistress’ marks? what mistress, slave, hast thou?
_Dro. E._ Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phœnix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,
And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. 90
_Ant. S._ What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.
_Dro. E._ What mean you, sir? for God’s sake, hold your hands!
Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels. [_Exit._
_Ant. S._ Upon my life, by some device or other 95
The villain is o’er-raught of all my money.
They say this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind.
Soul-killing witches that deform the body, 100
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such-like liberties of sin:
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I’ll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave:
I greatly fear my money is not safe. [_Exit._ 105
NOTES: I, 2.
SCENE II.] Pope. No division in Ff.
The Mart.] Edd. A public place. Capell. The Street. Pope.
See note (II).
Enter ...] Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio. Ff.
4: _arrival_] _a rivall_ F1.
10: _till_] _tell_ F2.
11, 12: The order of these lines is inverted by F2 F3 F4.
12: _that_] _then_ Collier MS.
18: _mean_] F1. _means_ F2 F3 F4.
23: _my_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
28: _consort_] _consort with_ Malone conj.
30: _myself_] F1. _my life_ F2 F3 F4.
33: SCENE III. Pope.
_mine_] F1. _my_ F2 F3 F4.
37: _falling_] _failing_ Barron Field conj.
37, 38: _fellow forth, Unseen,_] _fellow, for Th’ unseen_ Anon. conj.
38: _Unseen,_] _In search_ Spedding conj.
_Unseen, inquisitive,_] _Unseen inquisitive!_ Staunton.
40: _them_] F1. _him_ F2 F3 F4.
_unhappy_,] F2 F3 F4. (_unhappie a_) F1. _unhappier_, Edd. conj.
65: _score_] Rowe. _scoure_ F1 F2 F3. _scour_ F4.
66: _your clock_] Pope. _your cooke_ F1. _you cooke_ F2.
_your cook_ F3 F4.
76: _stays_] _stay_ Rowe.
86: _will_] _would_ Collier MS.
93: _God’s_] Hanmer. _God_ Ff.
96: _o’er-raught_] Hanmer. _ore-wrought_ Ff.
99: _Dark-working_] _Drug-working_ Warburton.
99, 100: _Dark-working ... Soul-killing_] _Soul-killing ...
Dark-working_ Johnson conj.
100: _Soul-killing_] _Soul-selling_ Hanmer.
102: _liberties_] _libertines_ Hanmer.
ACT II.
_SCENE I. The house of _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_._
_Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA._
_Adr._ Neither my husband nor the slave return’d,
That in such haste I sent to seek his master!
Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock.
_Luc._ Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner. 5
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret:
A man is master of his liberty:
Time is their master; and when they see time,
They’ll go or come: if so, be patient, sister.
_Adr._ Why should their liberty than ours be more? 10
_Luc._ Because their business still lies out o’ door.
_Adr._ Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
_Luc._ O, know he is the bridle of your will.
_Adr._ There’s none but asses will be bridled so.
_Luc._ Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe. 15
There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males’ subjects and at their controls:
Men, more divine, the masters of all these, 20
Lords of the wide world and wild watery seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords. 25
_Adr._ This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
_Luc._ Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
_Adr._ But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
_Luc._ Ere I learn love, I’ll practise to obey.
_Adr._ How if your husband start some other where? 30
_Luc._ Till he come home again, I would forbear.
_Adr._ Patience unmoved! no marvel though she pause;
They can be meek that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; 35
But were we burden’d with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain:
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me;
But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 40
This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left.
_Luc._ Well, I will marry one day, but to try.
Here comes your man; now is your husband nigh.
_Enter _DROMIO of Ephesus_._
_Adr._ Say, is your tardy master now at hand?
_Dro. E._ Nay, he’s at two hands with me, and that my 45
two ears can witness.
_Adr._ Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind?
_Dro. E._ Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear:
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
_Luc._ Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his 50
meaning?
_Dro. E._ Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well
feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce
understand them.
_Adr._ But say, I prithee, is he coming home? 55
It seems he hath great care to please his wife.
_Dro. E._ Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
_Adr._ Horn-mad, thou villain!
_Dro. E._ I mean not cuckold-mad;
But, sure, he is stark mad.
When I desired him to come home to dinner, 60
He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold:
‘’Tis dinner-time,’ quoth I; ‘My gold!’ quoth he:
‘Your meat doth burn,’ quoth I; ‘My gold!’ quoth he:
‘Will you come home?’ quoth I; ‘My gold!’ quoth he,
‘Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?’ 65
‘The pig,’ quoth I, ‘is burn’d;’ ‘My gold!’ quoth he:
‘My mistress, sir,’ quoth I; ‘Hang up thy mistress!
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!’
_Luc._ Quoth who?
_Dro. E._ Quoth my master: 70
‘I know,’ quoth he, ‘no house, no wife, no mistress.’
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
_Adr._ Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. 75
_Dro. E._ Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God’s sake, send some other messenger.
_Adr._ Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across.
_Dro. E._ And he will bless that cross with other beating:
Between you I shall have a holy head. 80
_Adr._ Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home.
_Dro. E._ Am I so round with you as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither:
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
[_Exit._ 85
_Luc._ Fie, how impatience lowereth in your face!
_Adr._ His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age the alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: 90
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard:
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state: 95
What ruins are in me that can be found,
By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair:
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, 100
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
_Luc._ Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence!
_Adr._ Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere;
Or else what lets it but he would be here? 105
Sister, you know he promised me a chain;
Would that alone, alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed!
I see the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still, 110
That others touch, and often touching will
Wear gold: and no man that hath a name,
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die. 115
_Luc._ How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
[_Exeunt._
NOTES: II, 1.
The house ... Ephesus.] Pope. The same (i.e. A publick place).
Capell, and passim.
11: _o’ door_] Capell. _adore_ F1 F2 F3. _adoor_ F4.
12: _ill_] F2 F3 F4. _thus_ F1.
15: _lash’d_] _leashed_ “a learned lady” conj. ap. Steevens.
_lach’d_ or _lac’d_ Becket conj.
17: _bound, ... sky:_] _bound: ... sky,_ Anon. conj.
19: _subjects_] _subject_ Capell.
20, 21: _Men ... masters ... Lords_] Hanmer. _Man ... master
... Lord_ Ff.
21: _wild watery_] _wilde watry_ F1. _wide watry_ F2 F3 F4.
22, 23: _souls ... fowls_] F1. _soul ... fowl_ F2 F3 F4.
30: _husband start_] _husband’s heart’s_ Jackson conj.
_other where_] _other hare_ Johnson conj. See note (III).
31: _home_] om. Boswell (ed. 1821).
39: _wouldst_] Rowe. _would_ Ff.
40: _see_] _be_ Hanmer.
41: _fool-begg’d_] _fool-egg’d_ Jackson conj. _fool-bagg’d_
Staunton conj. _fool-badged_ Id. conj.
44: SCENE II. Pope.
_now_] _yet_ Capell.
45: _Nay_] _At hand? Nay_ Capell.
_and_] om. Capell.
45, 46: _two ... two_] _too ... two_ F1.
50-53: _doubtfully_] _doubly_ Collier MS.
53: _withal_] _therewithal_ Capell.
_that_] om. Capell, who prints lines 50-54 as four verses ending
_feel ... I ... therewithal ... them._
59: _he is_] _he’s_ Pope. om. Hanmer.
61: _a thousand_] F4. _a hundred_ F1 _a 1000_ F2 F3.
64: _home_] Hanmer. om. Ff.
68: _I know not thy mistress_] _Thy mistress I know not_ Hanmer.
_I know not of thy mistress_ Capell. _I know thy mistress not_
Seymour conj.
_out on thy mistress_] F1 F4. _out on my mistress_ F2 F3.
_’out on thy mistress,’ Quoth he_ Capell. _I know no mistress;
out upon thy mistress_ Steevens conj.
70: _Quoth_] _Why, quoth_ Hanmer.
71-74: Printed as prose in Ff. Corrected by Pope.
73: _bare_] _bear_ Steevens.
_my_] _thy_ F2.
74: _there_] _thence_ Capell conj.
85: _I last_] _I’m to last_ Anon. conj.
[Exit.] F2.
87: SCENE III. Pope.
93: _blunts_] F1. _blots_ F2 F3 F4.
107: _alone, alone_] F2 F3 F4. _alone, a love_ F1.
_alone, alas!_ Hanmer. _alone, O love,_ Capell conj.
_alone a lone_ Nicholson conj.
110: _yet the_] Ff. _and the_ Theobald. _and tho’_ Hanmer.
_yet though_ Collier.
111: _That others touch_] _The tester’s touch_ Anon. (Fras. Mag.)
conj. _The triers’ touch_ Singer.
_and_] Ff. _yet_ Theobald. _an_ Collier. _though_ Heath conj.
111, 112: _will Wear_] Theobald (Warburton). _will, Where_] F1.
112, 113: F2 F3 F4 omit these two lines. See note (IV).
112: _and no man_] F1. _and so no man_ Theobald.
_and e’en so man_ Capell. _and so a man_ Heath conj.
113: _By_] F1. _But_ Theobald.
115: _what’s left away_] _(what’s left away)_ F1.
_(what’s left) away_ F2 F3 F4.
_SCENE II. A public place._
_Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_._
_Ant. S._ 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
By computation and mine host’s report.
I could not speak with Dromio since at first 5
I sent him from the mart. See, 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 know no Centaur? you receiv’d no gold?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? 10
My house was at the Phœnix? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me?
_Dro. S._ What answer, sir? when spake I such a word?
_Ant. S._ Even now, even here, not half an hour since.
_Dro. S._ I did not see you since you sent me hence, 15
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
_Ant. S._ 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 displeased.
_Dro. S._ I am glad to see you in this merry vein: 20
What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me.
_Ant. S._ Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth?
Think’st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that.
[_Beating him._
_Dro. S._ Hold, sir, for God’s sake! now your jest is earnest:
Upon what bargain do you give it me? 25
_Ant. S._ 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, 30
But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
If you will jest with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce.
_Dro. S._ Sconce call you it? so you would leave battering, 35
I had rather have it a head: an you use these blows
long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it
too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But,
I pray, sir, why am I beaten?
_Ant. S._ Dost thou not know? 40
_Dro. S._ Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten.
_Ant. S._ Shall I tell you why?
_Dro. S._ Ay, sir, and wherefore; for they say every
why hath a wherefore.
_Ant. S._ Why, first,--for flouting me; and then, wherefore,-- 45
For urging it the second time to me.
_Dro. S._ Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season,
When in the why and the wherefore is neither rhyme nor reason?
Well, sir, I thank you.
_Ant. S._ Thank me, sir! for what? 50
_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, for this something that you gave
me for nothing.
_Ant. S._ I’ll make you amends next, to give you nothing
for something. But say, sir, is it dinner-time?
_Dro. S._ No, sir: I think the meat wants that I have. 55
_Ant. S._ In good time, sir; what’s that?
_Dro. S._ Basting.
_Ant. S._ Well, sir, then ’twill be dry.
_Dro. S._ If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of it.
_Ant. S._ Your reason? 60
_Dro. S._ Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me
another dry basting.
_Ant. S._ Well, sir, learn to jest in good time: there’s a
time for all things.
_Dro. S._ I durst have denied that, before you were so 65
choleric.
_Ant. S._ By what rule, sir?
_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald
pate of father Time himself.
_Ant. S._ Let’s hear it. 70
_Dro. S._ There’s no time for a man to recover his hair
that grows bald by nature.
_Ant. S._ May he not do it by fine and recovery?
_Dro. S._ Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover
the lost hair of another man. 75
_Ant. S._ Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as
it is, so plentiful an excrement?
_Dro. S._ Because it is a blessing that he bestows on
beasts: and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath
given them in wit. 80
_Ant. S._ Why, but there’s many a man hath more hair
than wit.
_Dro. S._ Not a man of those but he hath the wit to
lose his hair.
_Ant. S._ Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain 85
dealers without wit.
_Dro. S._ The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: yet he
loseth it in a kind of jollity.
_Ant. S._ For what reason?
_Dro. S._ For two; and sound ones too. 90
_Ant. S._ Nay, not sound, I pray you.
_Dro. S._ Sure ones, then.
_Ant. S._ Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing.
_Dro. S._ Certain ones, then.
_Ant. S._ Name them. 95
_Dro. S._ The one, to save the money that he spends in
trimming; the other, that at dinner they should not drop
in his porridge.
_Ant. S._ You would all this time have proved there is
no time for all things. 100
_Dro. S._ Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to recover
hair lost by nature.
_Ant. S._ But your reason was not substantial, why
there is no time to recover.
_Dro. S._ Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and 105
therefore to the world’s end will have bald followers.
_Ant. S._ I knew ’twould be a bald conclusion:
But, soft! who wafts us yonder?
_Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA._
_Adr._ Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown:
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; 110
I am not Adriana nor thy wife.
The time was once when thou unurged wouldst vow
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thy hand, 115
That never meat sweet-savour’d in thy taste,
Unless I spake, or look’d, or touch’d, or carved to thee.
How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me, 120
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self’s better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me!
For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf, 125
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious, 130
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate!
Wouldst thou not spit at me and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain’d skin off my harlot-brow, 135
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?
I know thou canst; and therefore see thou do it.
I am possess’d with an adulterate blot;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: 140
For if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep, then, fair league and truce with thy true bed;
I live distain’d, thou undishonoured. 145
_Ant. S._ 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;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann’d,
Wants wit in all one word to understand. 150
_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. S._ By Dromio?
_Dro. S._ By me? 155
_Adr._ By thee; and this thou didst return from him,
That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.
_Ant. S._ Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?
What is the course and drift of your compact? 160
_Dro. S._ I, sir? I never saw her till this time.
_Ant. S._ Villain, thou liest; for even her very words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
_Dro. S._ I never spake with her in all my life.
_Ant. S._ How can she thus, then, call us by our names, 165
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!
Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, 170
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate: 175
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.
_Ant. S._ To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme: 180
What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I’ll entertain the offer’d fallacy. 185
_Luc._ Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
_Dro. S._ O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the fairy land;--O spite of spites!
We talk with goblins, owls, and sprites:
If we obey them not, this will ensue, 190
They’ll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
_Luc._ Why pratest thou to thyself, and answer’st not?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
_Dro. S._ I am transformed, master, am I not?
_Ant. S._ I think thou art in mind, and so am I. 195
_Dro. S._ Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.
_Ant. S._ Thou hast thine own form.
_Dro. S._ No, I am an ape.
_Luc._ If thou art chang’d to aught, ’tis to an ass.
_Dro. S._ ’Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass.
’Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be 200
But I should know her as well as she knows me.
_Adr._ Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye and weep,
Whilst man and master laughs my woes to scorn.
Come, sir, to dinner. Dromio, keep the gate. 205
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. 210
_Ant. S._ Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking? mad or well-advised?
Known unto these, and to myself disguised!
I’ll say as they say, and persever so,
And in this mist at all adventures go. 215
_Dro. S._ Master, shall I be porter at the gate?
_Adr._ Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate.
_Luc._ Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late.
[_Exeunt._
NOTES: II, 2.
SCENE II.] Capell. SCENE IV. Pope.
A public place.] Capell. A street. Pope.
3, 4, 5: _out By ... report. I_] F1 F2 F3. _out By ... report, I_ F4.
_out. By ... report, I_ Rowe.
12: _didst_] _did didst_ F1.
23: Beating him] Beats Dro. Ff.
28: _jest_] _jet_ Dyce.
29: _common_] _comedy_ Hanmer.
35-107: Pope marks as spurious.
38: _else_] om. Capell.
45: _Why, first_] _First, why_ Capell.
53: _next, to_] _next time,_ Capell conj.
_to_] _and_ Collier MS.
59: _none_] F1. _not_ F2 F3 F4.
76: _hair_] _hair to men_ Capell.
79: _men_] Pope, ed. 2 (Theobald). _them_ Ff.
91: _sound_] F1. _sound ones_ F2 F3 F4.
93: _falsing_] _falling_ Heath conj.
97: _trimming_] Rowe. _trying_ Ff. _tyring_ Pope. _’tiring_ Collier.
101: _no time_] F2 F3 F4. _in no time_ F1. _e’en no time_ Collier
(Malone conj.).
110: _thy_] F1. _some_ F2 F3 F4.
111: _not ... nor_] _but ... and_ Capell conj.
112: _unurged_] _unurg’dst_ Pope.
117: _or look’d, or_] _look’d,_ Steevens.
_to thee_] om. Pope. _thee_ S. Walker conj.
119: _then_] _thus_ Rowe.
130: _but_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
135: _off_] Hanmer. _of_ Ff.
138: _canst_] _wouldst_ Hanmer.
140: _crime_] _grime_ Warburton.
142: _thy_] F1. _my_ F2 F3 F4.
143: _contagion_] _catagion_ F4.
145: _distain’d_] _unstain’d_ Hanmer (Theobald conj.).
_dis-stain’d_ Theobald. _distained_ Heath conj.
_undishonoured_] _dishonoured_ Heath conj.
149, 150: Marked as spurious by Pope.
_Who, ... Wants_] _Whose every ..., Want_ Becket conj.
150: _Wants_] Ff. _Want_ Johnson.
155: _By me?_] Pope. _By me._ Ff.
156: _this_] F1, Capell. _thus_ F2 F3 F4.
167: _your_] _you_ F2.
174: _stronger_] F4. _stranger_ F1 F2 F3.
180-185: Marked ‘aside’ by Capell.
180: _moves_] _means_ Collier MS.
183: _drives_] _draws_ Collier MS.
184: _sure uncertainty_] _sure: uncertainly_ Becket conj.
185: _offer’d_] Capell. _free’d_ Ff. _favour’d_ Pope.
_proffered_ Collier MS.
187-201: Marked as spurious by Pope.
189: _talk_] _walk and talk_ Anon. conj.
_goblins_] _ghosts and goblins_ Lettsom conj.
_owls_] _ouphs_ Theobald.
_sprites_] F1. _elves sprites_ F2 F3 F4. _elvish sprites_
Rowe (ed. 2). _elves and sprites_ Collier MS.
191: _or_] _and_ Theobald.
192: _and answer’st not?_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
193: _Dromio, thou drone, thou snail_] Theobald.
_Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile_ F1.
_Dromio, thou Dromio, snaile_ F2 F3 F4.
194: _am I not?_] Ff. _am not I?_ Theobald.
203: _the eye_] _thy eye_ F2 F3.
204: _laughs_] Ff. _laugh_ Pope.
211-215: Marked as ‘aside’ by Capell.
ACT III.
_SCENE I. Before the house of _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_._
_Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_, _DROMIO of Ephesus_, ANGELO,
and BALTHAZAR._
_Ant. E._ Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all;
My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours:
Say that I linger’d with you at your shop
To see the making of her carcanet,
And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 5
But here’s a villain that would face me down
He met me on the mart, and that I beat him,
And charged him with a thousand marks in gold,
And that I did deny my wife and house.
Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? 10
_Dro. E._ Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know;
That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show:
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink,
Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
_Ant. E._ I think thou art an ass.
_Dro. E._ Marry, so it doth appear 15
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.
I should kick, being kick’d; and, being at that pass,
You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.
_Ant. E._ You’re sad, Signior Balthazar: pray God our cheer
May answer my good will and your good welcome here. 20
_Bal._ I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear.
_Ant. E._ O, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,
A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.
_Bal._ Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords.
_Ant. E._ And welcome more common; for that’s nothing but words. 25
_Bal._ Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
_Ant. E._ Ay to a niggardly host and more sparing guest:
But though my cates be mean, take them in good part;
Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.
But, soft! my door is lock’d.--Go bid them let us in. 30
_Dro. E._ Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Ginn!
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb,
idiot, patch!
Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch.
Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call’st for such store,
When one is one too many? Go get thee from the door, 35
_Dro. E._ What patch is made our porter? My master stays
in the street.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Let him walk from whence he came, lest he
catch cold on’s feet.
_Ant. E._ Who talks within there? ho, open the door!
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Right, sir; I’ll tell you when, an you’ll
tell me wherefore.
_Ant. E._ Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not dined to-day. 40
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Nor to-day here you must not; come again
when you may.
_Ant. E._ What art thou that keepest me out from the house I owe?
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] The porter for this time, sir, and
my name is Dromio.
_Dro. E._ O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office
and my name!
The one ne’er got me credit, the other mickle blame. 45
If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place,
Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or thy name
for an ass.
_Luce._ [_Within_] What a coil is there, Dromio? who are
those at the gate?
_Dro. E._ Let my master in, Luce.
_Luce._ [_Within_] Faith, no; he comes too late;
And so tell your master.
_Dro. E._ O Lord, I must laugh! 50
Have at you with a proverb;--Shall I set in my staff?
_Luce._ [_Within_] Have at you with another; that’s,
--When? can you tell?
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] If thy name be call’d Luce, --Luce,
thou hast answer’d him well.
_Ant. E._ Do you hear, you minion? you’ll let us in, I hope?
_Luce._ [_Within_] I thought to have ask’d you.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] And you said no. 55
_Dro. E._ So, come, help:--well struck! there was blow for blow.
_Ant. E._ Thou baggage, let me in.
_Luce._ [_Within_] Can you tell for whose sake?
_Dro. E._ Master, knock the door hard.
_Luce._ [_Within_] Let him knock till it ache.
_Ant. E._ You’ll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.
_Luce._ [_Within_] What needs all that, and a pair of stocks
in the town? 60
_Adr._ [_Within_] Who is that at the door that keeps
all this noise?
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] By my troth, your town is troubled
with unruly boys.
_Ant. E._ Are you, there, wife? you might have come before.
_Adr._ [_Within_] Your wife, sir knave! go get you from the door.
_Dro. E._ If you went in pain, master, this ‘knave’
would go sore. 65
_Aug._ Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would
fain have either.
_Bal._ In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.
_Dro. E._ They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome
hither.
_Ant. E._ There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.
_Dro. E._ You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. 70
Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold:
It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.
_Ant. E._ Go fetch me something: I’ll break ope the gate.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Break any breaking here, and I’ll break
your knave’s pate.
_Dro. E._ A man may break a word with you, sir; and words
are but wind; 75
Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] It seems thou want’st breaking: out
upon thee, hind!
_Dro. E._ Here’s too much ‘out upon thee!’ I pray thee,
let me in.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and
fish have no fin.
_Ant. E._ Well, I’ll break in:--go borrow me a crow. 80
_Dro. E._ A crow without feather? Master, mean you so?
For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a feather:
If a crow help us in, sirrah, we’ll pluck a crow together.
_Ant. E._ Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow.
_Bal._ Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so! 85
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
Th’ unviolated honour of your wife.
Once this,--your long experience of her wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 90
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made against you.
Be ruled by me: depart in patience,
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner; 95
And about evening come yourself alone
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it, 100
And that supposed by the common rout
Against your yet ungalled estimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead;
For slander lives upon succession, 105
For ever housed where it gets possession.
_Ant. E._ You have prevail’d: I will depart in quiet,
And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle: 110
There will we dine. This woman that I mean,
My wife--but, I protest, without desert--
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal:
To her will we to dinner. [_To Ang._] Get you home,
And fetch the chain; by this I know ’tis made: 115
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine;
For there’s the house: that chain will I bestow--
Be it for nothing but to spite my wife--
Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste.
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 120
I’ll knock elsewhere, to see if they’ll disdain me.
_Ang._ I’ll meet you at that place some hour hence.
_Ant. E._ Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense.
[_Exeunt._
NOTES: III, 1.
SCENE I. ANGELO and BALTHAZAR.] Angelo the Goldsmith and Balthasar
the Merchant. Ff.
1: _all_] om. Pope.
11-14: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
11: _Say_] _you must say_ Capell.
13: _the skin_] _my skin_ Collier MS.
14: _own_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
_you_] _you for certain_ Collier MS.
15: _doth_] _dont_ Theobald.
19: _You’re_] _Y’are_ Ff. _you are_ Capell.
20: _here_] om. Pope.
21-29: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
31: _Ginn_] om. Pope. _Jen’_ Malone. _Gin’_ Collier. _Jin_ Dyce.
36-60: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
32, sqq.: [Within] Rowe.
46: _been_] F1. _bid_ F2 F3 F4.
47: _an ass_] _a face_ Collier MS.
48: Luce. [Within] Rowe. Enter Luce. Ff.
_there, Dromio? who_] _there! Dromio, who_ Capell.
54: _hope_] _trow_ Theobald. Malone supposes a line omitted
ending _rope_.
61: Adr. [Within]. Rowe. Enter Adriana. Ff.
65-83: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
67: _part_] _have part_ Warburton.
71: _cake here_] _cake_ Capell. _cake there_ Anon. conj.
72: _mad_] F1. _as mad_ F2 F3 F4.
_as a buck_] om. Capell.
75: _you,_] _your_ F1.
85: _so_] _thus_ Pope.
89: _Once this_] _Own this_ Malone conj. _This once_ Anon. conj.
_her_] Rowe. _your_ Ff.
91: _her_] Rowe. _your_ Ff.
93: _made_] _barr’d_ Pope.
105: _slander_] _lasting slander_ Johnson conj.
_upon_] _upon its own_ Capell conj.
106: _housed ... gets_] Collier. _hous’d ... gets_ F1.
_hous’d ... once gets_ F2 F3 F4. _hous’d where ’t gets_ Steevens.
108: _mirth_] _wrath_ Theobald.
116: _Porpentine_] Ff. _Porcupine_ Rowe (and passim).
117: _will I_] F1. _I will_ F2 F3 F4.
119: _mine_] F1. _my_ F2 F3 F4.
122: _hour_] F1. _hour, sir_ F2 F3 F4.
_SCENE II. The same._
_Enter LUCIANA and _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_._
_Luc._ And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband’s office? shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 5
Then for her wealth’s sake use her with more kindness:
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness:
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator; 10
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted? 15
What simple thief brags of his own attaint?
’Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy looks at board:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. 20
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
We in your motion turn, and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again; 25
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:
’Tis holy sport, to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.
_Ant. S._ Sweet mistress,--what your name is else, I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,-- 30
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder; more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, 35
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me, then, and to your power I’ll yield. 40
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe:
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, 45
To drown me in thy sister flood of tears:
Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote:
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them, and there lie;
And, in that glorious supposition, think 50
He gains by death that hath such means to die:
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
_Luc._ What, are you mad, that you do reason so?
_Ant. S._ Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
_Luc._ It is a fault that springeth from your eye. 55
_Ant. S._ For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
_Luc._ Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.
_Ant. S._ As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
_Luc._ Why call you me love? call my sister so.
_Ant. S._ Thy sister’s sister.
_Luc._ That’s my sister.
_Ant. S._ No; 60
It is thyself, mine own self’s better part,
Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart,
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim,
My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim.
_Luc._ All this my sister is, or else should be. 65
_Ant. S._ Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee.
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life:
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand.
_Luc._ O, soft, sir! hold you still:
I’ll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [_Exit._ 70
_Enter _DROMIO of Syracuse_._
_Ant. S._ Why, how now, Dromio! where runn’st thou
so fast?
_Dro. S._ Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am I
your man? am I myself?
_Ant. S._ Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art 75
thyself.
_Dro. S._ I am an ass, I am a woman’s man, and
besides myself.
_Ant. S._ What woman’s man? and how besides thyself?
_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a 80
woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that
will have me.
_Ant. S._ What claim lays she to thee?
_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to
your horse; and she would have me as a beast: not that, 85
I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being
a very beastly creature, lays claim to me.
_Ant. S._ What is she?
_Dro. S._ A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man
may not speak of, without he say Sir-reverence. I have 90
but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat
marriage.
_Ant. S._ How dost thou mean a fat marriage?
_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen-wench, and all
grease; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make 95
a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant,
her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland
winter: if she lives till doomsday, she’ll burn a week
longer than the whole world.
_Ant. S._ What complexion is she of? 100
_Dro. S._ Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like
so clean kept: for why she sweats; a man may go over
shoes in the grime of it.
_Ant. S._ That’s a fault that water will mend.
_Dro. S._ No, sir, ’tis in grain; Noah’s flood could not 105
do it.
_Ant. S._ What’s her name?
_Dro. S._ Nell, sir; but her name and three quarters,
that’s an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from
hip to hip. 110
_Ant. S._ Then she bears some breadth?
_Dro. S._ No longer from head to foot than from hip to
hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries
in her.
_Ant. S._ In what part of her body stands Ireland? 115
_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found it out by
the bogs.
_Ant. S._ Where Scotland?
_Dro. S._ I found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm
of the hand. 120
_Ant. S._ Where France?
_Dro. S._ In her forehead; armed and reverted, making
war against her heir.
_Ant. S._ Where England?
_Dro. S._ I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find 125
no whiteness in them; but I guess it stood in her chin, by
the salt rheum that ran between France and it.
_Ant. S._ Where Spain?
_Dro. S._ Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her
breath. 130
_Ant. S._ Where America, the Indies?
_Dro. S._ Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embellished
with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect
to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadoes
of caracks to be ballast at her nose. 135
_Ant. S._ Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?
_Dro. S._ Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude,
this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; called me
Dromio; swore I was assured to her; told me what privy
marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the 140
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 had transform’d me to a curtal dog, and made me turn
i’ the wheel.
_Ant. S._ Go hie thee presently, post to the road:-- 145
An 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,
Where I will walk till thou return to me.
If every one knows us, and we know none, 150
’Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
_Dro. S._ As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife. [_Exit._
_Ant. S._ There’s none but witches do inhabit here;
And therefore ’tis high time that I were hence. 155
She that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister,
Possess’d with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself: 160
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song.
_Enter ANGELO with the chain._
_Ang._ Master Antipholus,--
_Ant. S._ Ay, that’s my name.
_Ang._ I know it well, sir:--lo, here is the chain.
I thought to have ta’en you at the Porpentine: 165
The chain unfinish’d made me stay thus long.
_Ant. S._ What is your will that I shall do with this?
_Ang._ What please yourself, sir: I have made it for you.
_Ant. S._ Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not.
_Ang._ Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. 170
Go home with it, and please your wife withal;
And soon at supper-time I’ll visit you,
And then receive my money for the chain.
_Ant. S._ I pray you, sir, receive the money now,
For fear you ne’er see chain nor money more. 175
_Ang._ You are a merry man, sir: fare you well. [_Exit._
_Ant. S._ What I should think of this, I cannot tell:
But this I think, there’s no man is so vain
That would refuse so fair an offer’d chain.
I see a man here needs not live by shifts, 180
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
I’ll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay:
If any ship put out, then straight away. [_Exit._
NOTES: III, 2.
SCENE II. Enter LUCIANA] F2. Enter JULIANA F1.
1: Luc.] Rowe. Julia Ff.
2: _Antipholus_] _Antipholis, hate_ Theobald. _Antipholis, thus_
Id. conj. _a nipping hate_ Heath conj. _unkind debate_ Collier MS.
4: _building_] Theobald. _buildings_ Ff.
_ruinous_] Capell (Theobald conj.). _ruinate_ Ff.
16: _attaint_] Rowe. _attaine_ F1 F2 F3. _attain_ F4.
20: _are_] F2 F3 F4. _is_ F1.
21: _but_] Theobald. _not_ Ff.
26: _wife_] _wise_ F1.
35: _shallow_] F1. _shaddow_ F2 F3. _shadow_ F4.
43: _no_] F1. _a_ F2 F3 F4.
44: _decline_] _incline_ Collier MS.
46: _sister_] F1. _sister’s_ F2 F3 F4.
49: _bed_] F2 F3 F4. _bud_ F1. _bride_ Dyce.
_them_] Capell (Edwards conj.). _thee_ Ff.
52: _she_] _he_ Capell.
57: _where_] Pope. _when_ Ff.
66: _am_] _mean_ Pope. _aim_ Capell.
71: SCENE III. Pope.
93: _How_] _What_ Capell.
97: _Poland_] _Lapland_ Warburton.
108: _and_] Theobald (Thirlby conj). _is_ Ff.
120: _the_] Ff. _her_ Rowe.
122: _forehead_] _sore head_ Jackson conj.
_reverted_] _revolted_ Grant White.
123: _heir_] _heire_ F1. _haire_ F2 F3. _hair_ F4.
125: _chalky_] _chalkle_ F1.
135: _caracks_] Hanmer. _carrects_ F1. _carracts_ F2 F3 F4.
_ballast_] _ballasted_ Capell.
138: _drudge, or_] _drudge of the Devil, this_ Warburton.
_or diviner_] _this divine one_ Capell conj.
140: _mark_] _marke_ F1. _marks_ F2 F3 F4.
143: _faith_] _flint_ Hanmer.
143, 144: Printed as prose in Ff. As verse first by Knight.
144: _curtal_] F4. _curtull_ F1. _curtall_ F2 F3. _cur-tail_ Hanmer.
146: _An_] Capell. _And_ Ff.
150: _knows us_] _know us_ Johnson.
154: SCENE IV. Pope.
161: _to_] _of_ Pope.
164: _here is_] Pope. _here’s_ Ff.
177: Ant. S.] Ant. F1 F4. Dro. F2 F3.
181: _streets_] _street_ Capell conj.
ACT IV.
_SCENE I. A public place._
_Enter _Second Merchant_, ANGELO, and an _Officer_._
_Sec. Mer._ You know since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I have not much importuned you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction, 5
Or I’ll attach you by this officer.
_Ang._ Even just the sum that I do owe to you
Is growing to me by Antipholus;
And in the instant that I met with you
He had of me a chain: at five o’clock 10
I shall receive the money for the same.
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.
_Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_ and _DROMIO of Ephesus_ from
the courtezan’s._
_Off._ That labour may you save: see where he comes.
_Ant. E._ While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go thou 15
And buy a rope’s end: that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out of my doors by day.--
But, soft! I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone;
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. 20
_Dro. E._ I buy a thousand pound a year: I buy a rope.
[_Exit._
_Ant. E._ A man is well holp up that trusts to you:
I promised your presence and the chain;
But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me.
Belike you thought our love would last too long, 25
If it were chain’d together, and therefore came not.
_Ang._ Saving your merry humour, here’s the note
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat,
The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion,
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 30
Than I stand debted to this gentleman:
I pray you, see him presently discharged,
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.
_Ant. E._ I am not furnish’d with the present money;
Besides, I have some business in the town. 35
Good signior, take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof:
Perchance I will be there as soon as you.
_Ang._ Then you will bring the chain to her yourself? 40
_Ant. E._ No; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.
_Ang._ Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you?
_Ant. E._ An if I have not, sir, I hope you have;
Or else you may return without your money.
_Ang._ Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain: 45
Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman,
And I, to blame, have held him here too long.
_Ant. E._ Good Lord! you use this dalliance to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine.
I should have chid you for not bringing it, 50
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
_Sec. Mer._ The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, dispatch.
_Ang._ You hear how he importunes me;--the chain!
_Ant. E._ Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money.
_Ang._ Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. 55
Either send the chain, or send me by some token.
_Ant. E._ Fie, now you run this humour out of breath.
Come, where’s the chain? I pray you, let me see it.
_Sec. Mer._ My business cannot brook this dalliance.
Good sir, say whether you’ll answer me or no: 60
If not, I’ll leave him to the officer.
_Ant. E._ I answer you! what should I answer you?
_Ang._ The money that you owe me for the chain.
_Ant. E._ I owe you none till I receive the chain.
_Ang._ You know I gave it you half an hour since. 65
_Ant. E._ You gave me none: you wrong me much to say so.
_Ang._ You wrong me more, sir, in denying it:
Consider how it stands upon my credit.
_Sec. Mer._ Well, officer, arrest him at my suit.
_Off._ I do; and charge you in the duke’s name to obey me. 70
_Ang._ This touches me in reputation.
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this officer.
_Ant. E._ Consent to pay thee that I never had!
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou darest. 75
_Ang._ Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer.
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorn me so apparently.
_Off._ I do arrest you, sir: you hear the suit.
_Ant. E._ I do obey thee till I give thee bail. 80
But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear
As all the metal in your shop will answer.
_Ang._ Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame; I doubt it not.
_Enter _DROMIO of Syracuse_, from the bay._
_Dro. S._ Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum 85
That stays but till her owner comes aboard,
And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir,
I have convey’d aboard; and I have bought
The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitæ.
The ship is in her trim; the merry wind 90
Blows fair from land: they stay for nought at all
But for their owner, master, and yourself.
_Ant. E._ How now! a madman! Why, thou peevish sheep,
What ship of Epidamnum stays for me?
_Dro. S._ A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. 95
_Ant. E._ Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope,
And told thee to what purpose and what end.
_Dro. S._ You sent me for a rope’s end as soon:
You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.
_Ant. E._ I will debate this matter at more leisure, 100
And teach your ears to list me with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight:
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That’s cover’d o’er with Turkish tapestry
There is a purse of ducats; let her send it: 105
Tell her I am arrested in the street,
And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave, be gone!
On, officer, to prison till it come.
[_Exeunt Sec. Merchant, Angelo, Officer, and Ant. E._
_Dro. S._ To Adriana! that is where we dined,
Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband: 110
She is too big, I hope, for me to compass.
Thither I must, although against my will,
For servants must their masters’ minds fulfil. [_Exit._
NOTES: IV, 1.
8: _growing_] _owing_ Pope.
12: _Pleaseth you_] Ff. _Please you but_ Pope. _Please it you_
Anon. conj.
14: _may you_] F1 F2 F3. _you may_ F4.
17: _her_] Rowe. _their_ Ff. _these_ Collier MS.
26: _and_] om. Pope.
28: _carat_] Pope. _charect_ F1. _Raccat_ F2 F3 F4. _caract_ Collier.
29: _chargeful_] _charge for_ Anon. conj.
41: _time enough_] _in time_ Hanmer.
46: _stays_] _stay_ Pope.
_this_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
47: _to blame_] F3. _too blame_ F1 F2 F4.
53: _the chain!_] Dyce. _the chain,_ Ff. _the chain--_ Johnson.
56: _Either_] _Or_ Pope.
_me by_] _by me_ Heath conj.
60: _whether_] _whe’r_ Ff. _where_ Rowe. _if_ Pope.
62: _what_] F1. _why_ F2 F3 F4.
67: _more_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
70: Printed as verse by Capell.
73: _this_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
74: _thee_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. _for_ Rowe.
85: SCENE II. Pope.
_there is_] Pope. _there’s_ Ff.
87: _And then, sir,_] F1. _Then, sir,_ F2 F3 F4. _And then_ Capell.
_she_] om. Steevens.
88: _bought_] F1. _brought_ F2 F3 F4.
98: _You sent me_] _A rope! You sent me_ Capell.
_You sent me, Sir,_ Steevens.
_SCENE II. The house of _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_._
_Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA._
_Adr._ Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest? yea or no?
Look’d he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?
What observation madest thou, in this case, 5
Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face?
_Luc._ First he denied you had in him no right.
_Adr._ He meant he did me none; the more my spite.
_Luc._ Then swore he that he was a stranger here.
_Adr._ And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. 10
_Luc._ Then pleaded I for you.
_Adr._ And what said he?
_Luc._ That love I begg’d for you he begg’d of me.
_Adr._ With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?
_Luc._ With words that in an honest suit might move.
First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. 15
_Adr._ Didst speak him fair?
_Luc._ Have patience, I beseech.
_Adr._ I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; 20
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind;
Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
_Luc._ Who would be jealous, then, of such a one?
No evil lost is wail’d when it is gone.
_Adr._ Ah, but I think him better than I say, 25
And yet would herein others’ eyes were worse.
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away:
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.
_Enter _DROMIO of Syracuse_._
_Dro. S._ Here! go; the desk, the purse! sweet, now, make haste.
_Luc._ How hast thou lost thy breath?
_Dro. S._ By running fast. 30
_Adr._ Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?
_Dro. S._ No, he’s in Tartar limbo, worse than hell.
A devil in an everlasting garment hath him;
One whose hard heart is button’d up with steel;
A fiend, a fury, pitiless and rough; 35
A wolf, nay, worse; a fellow all in buff;
A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands
The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands;
A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well;
One that, before the Judgment, carries poor souls to hell. 40
_Adr._ Why, man, what is the matter?
_Dro. S._ I do not know the matter: he is ’rested on the case.
_Adr._ What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit.
_Dro. S._ I know not at whose suit he is arrested well;
But he’s in a suit of buff which ’rested him, that can I tell. 45
Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk?
_Adr._ Go fetch it, sister. [_Exit Luciana._] This I wonder at,
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt.
Tell me, was he arrested on a band?
_Dro. S._ Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; 50
A chain, a chain! Do you not hear it ring?
_Adr._ What, the chain?
_Dro. S._ No, no, the bell: ’tis time that I were gone:
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.
_Adr._ The hours come back! that did I never hear. 55
_Dro. S._ O, yes; if any hour meet a sergeant, ’a turns back
for very fear.
_Adr._ As if Time were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason!
_Dro. S._ Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he’s
worth to season.
Nay, he’s a thief too: have you not heard men say,
That Time comes stealing on by night and day? 60
If Time be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?
_Re-enter LUCIANA with a purse._
_Adr._ Go, Dromio; there’s the money, bear it straight;
And bring thy master home immediately.
Come, sister: I am press’d down with conceit,-- 65
Conceit, my comfort and my injury.
[_Exeunt._
NOTES: IV, 2.
SCENE II.] SCENE III. Pope.
2: _austerely_] _assuredly_ Heath conj.
4: _or sad or_] _sad_ Capell.
_merrily_] _merry_ Collier MS.
6: _Of_] F2 F3 F4. _Oh,_ F1.
7: _you_] _you; you_ Capell.
_no_] _a_ Rowe.
18: _his_] _it’s_ Rowe.
22: _in mind_] F1. _the mind_ F2 F3 F4.
26: _herein_] _he in_ Hanmer.
29: SCENE IV. Pope.
_sweet_] _swift_ Collier MS.
33: _hath him_] _hath him fell_ Collier MS. _hath him by the heel_
Spedding conj.
34: _One_] F2 F3 F4. _On_ F1.
After this line Collier MS. inserts: _Who knows no touch of mercy,
cannot feel_.
35: _fury_] Pope, ed. 2 (Theobald). _Fairie_ Ff.
37: _countermands_] _commands_ Theobald.
38: _of_] _and_ Collier MS.
_alleys_] _allies_ Ff.
_lands_] _lanes_ Grey conj. See note (V).
37, 38: _countermands The ... lands_] _his court maintains I’ the
... lanes_ Becket conj.
42, 45: _’rested_] Theobald. _rested_ Ff.
43: _Tell_] _Well, tell_ Edd. conj.
44: _arrested well;_] F1. _arrested, well;_ F2 F3.
_arrested: well:_ F4.
45: _But he’s_] F3 F4. _But is_ F1 F2. _But ’a’s_ Edd. conj.
_can I_] F1 F2. _I can_ F3 F4.
46: _mistress, redemption_] Hanmer. _Mistris redemption_ F1 F2 F3.
_Mistris Redemption_ F4. See note (VI).
48: _That_] _Thus_ F1.
49, 50: _band_] _bond_ Rowe.
50: _but on_] _but_ Pope.
54-62: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
55: _hear_] _here_ F1.
56: _’a turns_] _it turns_ Pope. _he turns_ Capell.
58: _bankrupt_] _bankrout_ Ff.
_to season_] om. Pope.
61: _Time_] Rowe. _I_ Ff. _he_ Malone. _’a_ Staunton.
62: _an hour_] _any hour_ Collier MS.
_SCENE III. A public place._
_Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_._
_Ant. S._ There’s not a man I meet but doth salute me
As if I were their well-acquainted friend;
And every one doth call me by my name.
Some tender money to me; some invite me;
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; 5
Some offer me commodities to buy;--
Even now a tailor call’d me in his shop,
And show’d me silks that he had bought for me,
And therewithal took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, 10
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.
_Enter _DROMIO of Syracuse_._
_Dro. S._ Master, here’s the gold you sent me for.--
What, have you got the picture of old Adam new-apparelled?
_Ant. S._ What gold is this? what Adam dost thou mean?
_Dro. S._ Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that 15
Adam that keeps the prison: he that goes in the calf’s skin
that was killed for the Prodigal; he that came behind you,
sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.
_Ant. S._ I understand thee not.
_Dro. S._ No? why, ’tis a plain case: he that went, like a 20
base-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir, that, when
gentlemen are tired, gives them a sob, and ’rests them; he, sir,
that takes pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of
durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with
his mace than a morris-pike. 25
_Ant. S._ What, thou meanest an officer?
_Dro. S._ Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; he that
brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that
thinks a man always going to bed, and says, ’God give you
good rest!’ 30
_Ant. S._ Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there
any ship puts forth to-night? may we be gone?
_Dro. S._ Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since,
that the bark Expedition put forth to-night; and then were
you hindered by the sergeant, to tarry for the hoy Delay. 35
Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you.
_Ant. S._ The fellow is distract, and so am I;
And here we wander in illusions:
Some blessed power deliver us from hence!
_Enter a _Courtezan_._
_Cour._ Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. 40
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now:
Is that the chain you promised me to-day?
_Ant. S._ Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not.
_Dro. S._ Master, is this Mistress Satan?
_Ant. S._ It is the devil. 45
_Dro. S._ Nay, she is worse, she is the devil’s dam; and
here she comes in the habit of a light wench: and thereof
comes that the wenches say, ‘God damn me;’ that’s as
much to say, ‘God make me a light wench.’ It is written,
they appear to men like angels of light: light is an effect of 50
fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn. Come
not near her.
_Cour._ Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir.
Will you go with me? We’ll mend our dinner here?
_Dro. S._ Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat; or bespeak 55
a long spoon.
_Ant. S._ Why, Dromio?
_Dro. S._ Marry, he must have a long spoon that must
eat with the devil.
_Ant. S._ Avoid then, fiend! what tell’st thou me of supping? 60
Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress:
I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.
_Cour._ Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised,
And I’ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 65
_Dro. S._ Some devils ask but the parings of one’s nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone;
But she, more covetous, would have a chain.
Master, be wise: an if you give it her, 70
The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it.
_Cour._ I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain:
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.
_Ant. S._ Avaunt, thou witch! --Come, Dromio, let us go.
_Dro. S._ ‘Fly pride,’ says the peacock: mistress, that you know.
[_Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S._ 75
_Cour._ Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad,
Else would he never so demean himself.
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for the same he promised me a chain:
Both one and other he denies me now. 80
The reason that I gather he is mad,--
Besides this present instance of his rage,--
Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner,
Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.
Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, 85
On purpose shut the doors against his way.
My way is now to his home to his house,
And tell his wife that, being lunatic,
He rush’d into my house, and took perforce
My ring away. This course I fittest choose; 90
For forty ducats is too much to lose. [_Exit._
NOTES: IV, 3.