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?

Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit;
I crave your pardon. Soon at five o'clock,'
Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,
And afterwards consort you till bed-time:

3

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. 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.1

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;

"That is, about, not far from, five o'clock; an old mode of speech. Afterwards we have, -"Soon at supper-time."

3 Keep your company.

H.

They were both born in the same hour, and therefore the date of Dromio's birth ascertains that of his master.

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,
pray;

Where have you left the money that I gave you ? Dro. E. O sixpence, that I had o'Wednesday

last,

Το
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 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 in 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
And strike you home without a messenger.

clock,

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.

Referring to the old custom of scoring accounts upon a post instead of entering them in a book

6

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.
Ant. S. What! wilt thou flout me thus unto my

face,

Being forbid ?

There, take you that, sir knave.

[Strikes him. 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
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,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin:
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.

Why does he

• Sconce is head. So in Hamlet, Act v. sc. 1: suffer this rude knave to knock him about the sconce ?" 7 That is, overreached.

I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave:
I greatly fear my money is not safe.

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A public 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.
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.'
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,
Lords of the wide world, and wild watery seas,

The meaning of this passage may be, that those who refuse the bridle must bear the lash, and that woe is the punishment of headstrong liberty.

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 ? 2

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

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 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 would'st relieve me
But, if thou live to see like right bereft,

6

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.

"That is, somewhere else. The sense is,- How if your hus band fly off in pursuit of some other woman?

3 To pause is to rest, to be quiet.

4 That is, no cause to be otherwise.

5 Helpless in the sense of useless, unhelping.

• Probably meaning a patience so foolish as to cause one to be begged for a fool; referring to the old custom of soliciting the guardianship of fools and idiotic persons with a view to come at their revenues. The king, being the legal guardian of such persons, might make over the trust to whom he pleased; and relatives or other interested parties would beg the office, and, no doubt often made or imagined the folly they wanted to have the care of See Love's Labour's Lost, Ac' v sc. 2, note 31

a.