« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »
Ant. S. Where England ?
Dro. S. I look'd 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.
Ant. S. Where Spain ?.
Dro. S. 'Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her breath.
Ant. S. Where America, the Indies ? Dro. S. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellish'd with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carracks to be ballast at her nose.
Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ?
Dro. S. Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; 'call’d me Dromio; swore, I was assur'd 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 transform' me to a curtail-dog, and made
me turn i' the wheel. Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road; And if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town to-night. If any bark put forth, come to the Mart, Where I will walk, till thou return to me. If every one knows us, and we know none, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Eait.
Ant. S. 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,
Ay, that's my name. Ang. 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.
Ant. S. What is your will, that I shall do with this?
Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now,
[Erit. Ant. S. 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. [Eait.
SCENE I. A Public Place.
To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage.
Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you,
Ephesus from the Courtezan's.
Ant. E. 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. Ďro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope!
[Exit. Ant. E. 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 we were chain'd together; and therefore came not.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note,
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat;
Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the ready money;
Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself? Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not time
enough. Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about
Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have. Or else you may return without your money.
Ang. 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.
Ant. E. 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.
Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, dispatch. Ang. You hear, how he importunes me. The chain... Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your
money. Ang. Come, come; you know, I gave it you even Either send the chain, or send by me some token. Ant. E. Fie! now you run this humour out of
breath. Come, where's the chain? I pray you let me see it.
Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance;
Ant. E. I answer you! What should I answer you? Ang. The money, that you owe me for the chain. Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain. Ang. You know, I gave it you half an hour since. Ant. E. You gave me none; you wrong me much
to say so.
Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit.
Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had !
Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer. I would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorn me so apparently.
Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit.
Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail.-
Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitæ. 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. Ant. E. Hownow! a mad man! Why, thou pee
vish sheep, What ship of Epidamnum stays for me?
Dro. S, A shíp you sent me to, to hire waftage.