And afterwards consort you till bed-time;

My present business calls me from you now.
Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,
And wander up and down, to view the city.

Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content.
[Exit Merchant.
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own con-

tent,

Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water,
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.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanack 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,
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;
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. 0,-six-pence, that I had o' Wednesday last,

To pay the sadler for my mistress' crupper;-
The sadler 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 dar'st thou trust
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 iu post;

If I return, I shall be post indeed:

For she will score your fault upon my pate. 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?

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 dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the

mart

Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner;
My mistress, and her sister, stay 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 undispos'd:
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,
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
Phoenix;

She that doth fast, till you come home to dinner,
And
prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.

* Head.

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 Dromio E. Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain is o'er-raught of all my money. this town is full of cozenage;

They say,
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;
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.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A publick place.

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. 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?
Luc. Because their business still lies out o'door.

Over-reached.

Adr. Look, when I serve him so, be 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. 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' subject, and at their controls: Men, more divine, and masters of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wild watry 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.

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?

Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she

pause;

They can be meek, that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity,

We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;

But were we burthen'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 would'st relieve me:
But, if thou live to see like right bereft,

This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try;— Ilere 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 is at two hands with me, and that my 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 meaning?

Dr. 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 pr'ythee, is he coming home? 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's stark mad:

When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
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 ?
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:

I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress;— So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders;

For, in conclusion, he did beat ine there.

Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.

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.

* i. e. Scarce stand under them.
P

VOL. III.