Knowledge house - The Complete Works of Shakespeare

Thyself I call it, being strange to me,

That, undividable incorporate,

Am better than thy dear self’s better part.

Ah, do not tear away thyself from me;

For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall

A drop of water in the breaking gulf,

And take unmingled thence that drop again,

Without addition or diminishing,

As take from me thyself and not me too.

How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,

Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious,

And that this body, consecrate to thee,

By ruffian lust should be contaminate?

Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,

And hurl the name of husband in my face,

And tear the stain’d skin [off] my harlot brow,

And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,

And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?

I know thou canst, and therefore see thou do it.

I am possess’d with an adulterate blot;

My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:

For if we two be one, and thou play false,

I do digest the poison of thy flesh,

Being strumpeted by thy contagion.

Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed,

I live dis-stain’d, thou undishonored.

S. Ant.

Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not:

In Ephesus I am but two hours old,

As strange unto your town as to your talk,

Who, every word by all my wit being scann’d,

Wants wit in all one word to understand.

Luc.

Fie, brother, how the world is chang’d with you:

When were you wont to use my sister thus?

She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.

S. Ant.

By Dromio?

S. Dro.

By me?

Adr.

By thee, and this thou didst return from him,

That he did buffet thee, and in his blows

Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

S. Ant.

Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?

What is the course and drift of your compact?

S. Dro.

I, sir? I never saw her till this time.

S. Ant.

Villain, thou liest, for even her very words

Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.

S. Dro.

I never spake with her in all my life.

S. Ant.

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, brier, or idle moss,

Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion

Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.

S. Ant.

To me she speaks, she moves 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 drives 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.

S. Dro.

O for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.

This is the fairy land. O spite of spites!

We talk with goblins, owls, 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 [drumble,] thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!

S. Dro.

I am transformed, master, am [not I]?

S. Ant.

I think thou art in mind, and so am I.

S. Dro.

Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.

S. Ant.

Thou hast thine own form.

S. Dro.

No, I am an ape.

Luc.

If thou art chang’d to aught, ’tis to an ass.

S. Dro.

’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 laughs 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.

S. Ant.

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.

S. Dro.

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.]

¶

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio [of Ephesus], Angelo the goldsmith, and Balthazar the merchant.

E. Ant.

Good 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 carcanet,

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?

E. Dro.

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.

E. Ant.

I think thou art an ass.

E. Dro.

Marry, so it doth appear

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.

I should kick, being kick’d, and being at that pass,

You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.

E. Ant.

Y’ are sad, Signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer

May answer my good will and your good welcome here.

Balth.

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

E. Ant.

O, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,

A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.

Balth.

Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords.

E. Ant.

And welcome more common, for that’s nothing but words.

Balth.

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.

E. Ant.

Ay, to a niggardly host and 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.

E. Dro.

Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cic’ly, Gillian, Ginn!

S. Dro. [Within.]

Mome, malt-horse, capon, cox-comb, 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.

E. Dro.

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

S. Dro. [Within.]

Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on ’s feet.