Part 24

LUCIANA. 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, 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; 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? 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 is doubled with an evil word. 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; Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife. ’Tis holy sport to be a little vain When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Sweet mistress, what your name is else, I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine; 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, 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. 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 To drown me in thy sister’s 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 thee, and there lie, And, in that glorious supposition think He gains by death that hath such means to die. Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink!

LUCIANA. What, are you mad, that you do reason so?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.

LUCIANA. It is a fault that springeth from your eye.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.

LUCIANA. Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.

LUCIANA. Why call you me love? Call my sister so.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Thy sister’s sister.

LUCIANA. That’s my sister.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. No, 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.

LUCIANA. All this my sister is, or else should be.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee; Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand.

LUCIANA. O, soft, sir, hold you still; I’ll fetch my sister to get her goodwill.

[_Exit Luciana._]

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Why, how now, Dromio? where runn’st thou so fast?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I am an ass, I am a woman’s man, and besides myself.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What woman’s man? and how besides thyself?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman, one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What claim lays she to thee?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse, and she would have me as a beast; not that I being a beast she would have me, but that she being a very beastly creature lays claim to me.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What is she?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of without he say “sir-reverence”. I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. How dost thou mean a “fat marriage”?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen wench, and all grease, and I know not what use to put her to but to make 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.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What complexion is she of?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Swart like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept. For why? she sweats, a man may go overshoes in the grime of it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. That’s a fault that water will mend.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No, sir, ’tis in grain; Noah’s flood could not do it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What’s her name?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Nell, sir; but her name and three quarters, that’s an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Then she bears some breadth?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip. She is spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. In what part of her body stands Ireland?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Marry, sir, in her buttocks; I found it out by the bogs.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Where Scotland?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I found it by the barrenness, hard in the palm of the hand.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Where France?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her hair.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Where England?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them. But I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Where Spain?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her breath.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Where America, the Indies?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. O, 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 carracks to be ballast at her nose.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. O, 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 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 transformed me to a curtal dog, and made me turn i’ the wheel.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road; And if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town tonight. If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk till thou return to me. If everyone knows us, and we know none, ’Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife.

[_Exit._]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. There’s none but witches do inhabit here, And therefore ’tis high time that I were hence. 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. But lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song.

Enter Angelo with the chain.

ANGELO. Master Antipholus.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Ay, that’s my name.

ANGELO. I know it well, sir. Lo, here is the chain; I thought to have ta’en you at the Porpentine, The chain unfinish’d made me stay thus long.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What is your will that I shall do with this?

ANGELO. What please yourself, sir; I have made it for you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not.

ANGELO. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. 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.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I pray you, sir, receive the money now, For fear you ne’er see chain nor money more.

ANGELO. You are a merry man, sir; fare you well.

[_Exit._]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. 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, 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._]

ACT IV

SCENE I. The same

Enter Merchant, Angelo and an Officer.

MERCHANT. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importun’d you, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage; Therefore make present satisfaction, Or I’ll attach you by this officer.

ANGELO. 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 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 Courtesan’s.

OFFICER. That labour may you save. See where he comes.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go thou 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.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope!

[_Exit Dromio._]

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. 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 If it were chain’d together, and therefore came not.

ANGELO. 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 Than I stand debted to this gentleman. I pray you, see him presently discharg’d, For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I am not furnished with the present money; Besides, I have some business in the town. 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.

ANGELO. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. No, bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.

ANGELO. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And if I have not, sir, I hope you have, Or else you may return without your money.

ANGELO. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain; Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Good Lord, you use this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porpentine. I should have chid you for not bringing it, But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.

MERCHANT. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, dispatch.

ANGELO. You hear how he importunes me. The chain!

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money.

ANGELO. Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. Either send the chain or send by me some token.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Fie, now you run this humour out of breath. Come, where’s the chain? I pray you, let me see it.

MERCHANT. My business cannot brook this dalliance. Good sir, say whe’er you’ll answer me or no; If not, I’ll leave him to the officer.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I answer you? What should I answer you?

ANGELO. The money that you owe me for the chain.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I owe you none till I receive the chain.

ANGELO. You know I gave it you half an hour since.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. You gave me none. You wrong me much to say so.

ANGELO. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it. Consider how it stands upon my credit.

MERCHANT. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit.

OFFICER. I do, and charge you in the duke’s name to obey me.

ANGELO. This touches me in reputation. Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Consent to pay thee that I never had? Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar’st.

ANGELO. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer. I would not spare my brother in this case If he should scorn me so apparently.

OFFICER. I do arrest you, sir. You hear the suit.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I do obey thee till I give thee bail. But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer.

ANGELO. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse from the bay.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, there’s a bark of Epidamnum That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, I have convey’d aboard, and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land; they stay for nought at all But for their owner, master, and yourself.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. How now? a madman? Why, thou peevish sheep, What ship of Epidamnum stays for me?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope, And told thee to what purpose and what end.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. You sent me for a rope’s end as soon. You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I will debate this matter at more leisure, 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. 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 Merchant, Angelo, Officer and Antipholus of Ephesus._]

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. To Adriana, that is where we din’d, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband. 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._]

SCENE II. The same

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

ADRIANA. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Might’st 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 mad’st thou in this case Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face?

LUCIANA. First he denied you had in him no right.

ADRIANA. He meant he did me none; the more my spite.

LUCIANA. Then swore he that he was a stranger here.

ADRIANA. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were.

LUCIANA. Then pleaded I for you.

ADRIANA. And what said he?

LUCIANA. That love I begg’d for you he begg’d of me.

ADRIANA. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

LUCIANA. With words that in an honest suit might move. First he did praise my beauty, then my speech.

ADRIANA. Did’st speak him fair?

LUCIANA. Have patience, I beseech.

ADRIANA. 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-fac’d, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

LUCIANA. Who would be jealous then of such a one? No evil lost is wail’d when it is gone.

ADRIANA. Ah, but I think him better than I say, 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.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Here, go; the desk, the purse, sweet now, make haste.

LUCIANA. How hast thou lost thy breath?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. By running fast.

ADRIANA. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. 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 fairy, pitiless and rough; 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 dryfoot well, One that, before the judgement, carries poor souls to hell.

ADRIANA. Why, man, what is the matter?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I do not know the matter. He is ’rested on the case.

ADRIANA. What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. 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. Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk?

ADRIANA. Go fetch it, sister. This I wonder at,

[_Exit Luciana._]

Thus he unknown to me should be in debt. Tell me, was he arrested on a band?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; A chain, a chain. Do you not hear it ring?

ADRIANA. What, the chain?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No, no, the bell, ’tis time that I were gone. It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.

ADRIANA. The hours come back! That did I never hear.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. O yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, ’a turns back for very fear.

ADRIANA. As if time were in debt. How fondly dost thou reason!

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. 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? If he be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?

Enter Luciana.

ADRIANA. Go, Dromio, there’s the money, bear it straight, And bring thy master home immediately. Come, sister, I am press’d down with conceit; Conceit, my comfort and my injury.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE III. The same

Enter Antipholus of Syracuse.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. There’s not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend, And everyone doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me, some invite me; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; 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, And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, here’s the gold you sent me for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Not that Adam that kept the paradise, but that 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.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I understand thee not.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No? Why, ’tis a plain case: he that went like a bass-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.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What! thou mean’st an officer?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. 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.”

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ship puts forth tonight? may we be gone?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the bark _Expedition_ put forth tonight, and then were you hindered by the sergeant to tarry for the hoy _Delay_. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions. Some blessed power deliver us from hence!

Enter a Courtesan.

COURTESAN. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now. Is that the chain you promis’d me today?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, is this Mistress Satan?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. It is the devil.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. 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 fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her.

COURTESAN. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We’ll mend our dinner here.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Why, Dromio?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Avoid then, fiend! What tell’st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress. I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.

COURTESAN. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis’d, And I’ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Some devils ask but the paring 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; and if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it.

COURTESAN. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain; I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us go.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Fly pride, says the peacock. Mistress, that you know.

[_Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse._]

COURTESAN. 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 promis’d me a chain; Both one and other he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage, Is a mad tale he told today at dinner Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doors against his way. My way is now to hie 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, For forty ducats is too much to lose.

[_Exit._]

SCENE IV. The same

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus with an Officer.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Fear me not, man, I will not break away: I’ll give thee ere I leave thee so much money, To warrant thee, as I am ’rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood today, And will not lightly trust the messenger That I should be attach’d in Ephesus; I tell you ’twill sound harshly in her ears.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus with a rope’s end.

Here comes my man. I think he brings the money. How now, sir! have you that I sent you for?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Here’s that, I warrant you, will pay them all.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. But where’s the money?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I’ll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. To a rope’s end, sir; and to that end am I return’d.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.