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Abetting him to thwart me in my mood?
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will faften on this fleeve of thine;
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine:
Whole weakness, marry'd to thy ftronger ftate,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate;
If aught poffefs thee from me, it is drofs,
Ufurping ivy, brier, or idle mofs;

Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy fap, and live on thy confufion.

Ant. To me the fpeaks; the moves me for her theam; What, was I marry'd to her in my dream?

Or fleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amifs?
Until I know this fure uncertainty,

I'll entertain the favour'd fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the fervants fpread for dinner. S. Dro. Oh, for my beads! I cross me for a finner. This is the Fairy land: oh, fpight of fpights! We talk with goblins, ouphs, and elvish sprights; (6) If we obey them not, this will enfue,

They'll fuck our breath, and pinch us black and blue. Luc. Why prat'ft thou to thyfelf, and anfwer't not? (7)

Dromio, thou drone, thou fnail, thou flug, thou fot!
S. Dro. I am transformed, mafter, am not I?
Ant. I think, thou art in mind, and fo am I.

S. Dro

(6) We talk with Goblins, Owls, and elvish Sprights;] They might fancy, they talk'd with Goblins and Sprights; but why with Owls, in the Name of Nonfenfe? Or could Owls fuck their Breath, and pinch them black and blue? I dare fay, my Readers will acquiefce in the Juftness of my Emendation here: The Word is common with our Author in other Paffages.

(7) Why prat ft thou to thyself?

Dromio, thou Dromio, fnail, thon flug, thou fot.] In the first of these Lines, Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope have Both, for what Reafon I cannot tell, curtail'd the Measure, and dif

I 3


S. Dro. Nay, mafter, both in mind and in my shape. Ant. Thou haft thine own form.

S. Dro. No; I am an ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an afs.
S. Dro. 'Tis true; the rides me, and I long for grafs.
'Tis fo, I am an afs; else it could never be,
But I fhould 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,
Whilft man and mafter laugh my woes to scorn.
Come, Sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate;
Husband, I'll dine above with you to day,
And fhrive you of a thousand idle pranks ;
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter :
Come, fifter; Dromio, play the porter well.

Ant. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell ?
Sleeping or waking, mad or well advis'd ?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd?
I'll fay as they fay, and perfever to;
And in this mift at all adventures go.

S Dro. Mafter, fhall I be porter at the gate?
Adr. Ay, let none enter, left I break your pate.
Luc. Come, come, Antipholis, we dine too late.


mounted the doggrel Rhyme, which I have replac'd from the firft Folio. The fecond Verfe is there likewise read ;

Dromio, thou Dromio, thou frail, thou flug, thou fot. The Verfe is thus half-a Foot too long; my Correction cures that Fault: befides Drone correfponds with the other Appellations of Reproach,



SCENE, the Street before Antipholis's Houfe.

Enter Antipholis of Ephefus, Dromio of Ephesus, Angelo, and Balthazar.



OOD Signior Angelo, you muft excufe us;
My wife is fhrewish, when I keep not hours;
Say that I linger'd with you at your shop

To fee the making of her carkanet;

And that to morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villain, that would face me down
He met me on the mart, and that I beat him;
And charg'd him with a thoufand marks in gold;
And that I did deny my wife and house:

Thou, drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?
E. Dro. Say, what you will, Sir; but I know what
I know;



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 hand-writing would tell you what I think.
E. Ant. I think, thou art an ass.

E. Dro. Marry, fo it don't appear (8)
By the wrongs I fuffer, and the blows I bear;

(8) Marry, fo it doth appear,

By the Wrongs I fuffer, and the Blows I bear.] Thus all the printed Copies. But, certainly, This is Cross-purposes in Reafoning. It appears, Dromio is an Afs by his making no Refiftance: because an Ass, being kick'd, kicks again. Our Author never argues at this wild Rate, where his Text is genuine.

I fhould kick, being kickt; and, being at that país,
You would keep from my heels, and beware of an afs.
E. Ant. Y'are fad, Signior Balthazar. Pray God,
our cheer;

May anfwer my good will, and your good welcome here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, Sir, and your welcome dear.

E. Ant. Ah, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table-full of welcome makes fcarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, Sir, is common ; that every churl affords.

E. Ant. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.

Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feaft.

E. Ant. Ay, to a niggardly hoft, and more sparing


But tho' my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, foft; my door is lockt; go bid them let us in.

E. Dro. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Ginn! S. Dro. [within.] Mome, malt-horfe, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch!

Either get thee from the door, or fit down at the hatch: Doft thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'ft for fuch ftore,

When one is one too many go, get thee from the


E. Dro. What patch is made our porter? my master ftays in the street.

S. Dro. Let him walk from whence he came, left he catch cold on's feet.

E. Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the


S. Dro. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore,

E. Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not din'd

to day.

S. Dro. Nor to day here you must not come again,

when you may.

E. Ant.

E. Ant. What art thou, that keep'ft me out from the

house I owe?

S. Dro. The porter for this time, Sir, and my name is


E. Dro. O villain, thou haft ftoll'n both mine officeand my name:

The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou hadst been Dromio to day in my place,

Thou would'st have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an afs.

Luce. [within.] What a coile is there, Dromia? who are those at the gate?

E. Dro. Let my mafter in, Luce.

Luce, Faith, no; he comes too late; And fo tell your master.

E. Dro. O lord, I must laugh;


Have at you with a Proverb. Shall I fet in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another; that's when, can you tell?

S. Dro. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou haft anfwer'd him well.

E. Ant. Do you hear, you minion, you'll let us in, I trow ?..

Luce. I thought to have askt you.

S. Dro. And you faid, no.

E. Dro. So, come, help, well ftruck; there was blow for blow.

E. Ant. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whofe fake?
E. Dro. Mafter, knock the door hard.
Luce. Let him knock, 'till it ake.

E. Ant. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door


Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the


Adr [within] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noife?

S. Dro. By my troth, your town is troubled with un

ruly boys.

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