What is the course and drift of your compact?

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? 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,
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.
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, briar, 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 means me for her theme.

What! was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error draws our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,

I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
Dro. S. Oh, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the fairy land-oh, spite of spites!-
For here we talk with goblins, elves, and sprites.
If we obey them not, this will ensue,

They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I?
Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I.
Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my shape.
Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form.

No, I am an ape.

Dro. S. 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, 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 laugh my woes to scorn.—
Come, sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate.
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.

Ant. S. 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 say as they say, and persever so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.

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.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Before the same.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.

Antipholus of Ephesus.

OOD 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 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 thousand marks in gold;
And that I did deny my wife and house.—

Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? 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 By the wrongs that I suffer, and the blows that 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 are sad, Signior Balthazar. 'Pray God, our cheer

May answer my good will, and your good welcome here.

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear.

Ant. E. Oh, 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.

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

Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and a 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. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jin'!

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. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street.

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

Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day.

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

when you may.

Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I owe?

Dro. S. 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. If thou had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou would'st have chang'd 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.

'Faith, no; he comes too late.

And so tell your master.

Dro. E. O Lord! I must laugh. Have at you with a proverb.-Shall I set in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another: that's,-When? can you tell?

Dro. S. 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. I thought to have ask'd you.

*

Dro. S. *

* And you said, no.

Dro. E. So; come, help! well struck; there was

Can you tell for whose sake?

Let him knock till it ake.

Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.
Luce.
Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the
door down.

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

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

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

Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have come before.

Adr. Your wife, sir knave! go, get you from the door.

Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore.

Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we I 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.

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. Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate.