Knowledge house - The Complete Works of Shakespeare

E. Ant.

Who talks within there? Ho, open the door!

S. Dro. [Within.]

Right, sir, I’ll tell you when, and you’ll tell me wherefore.

E. Ant.

Wherefore? For my dinner: I have not din’d to-day.

S. Dro. [Within.]

Nor to-day here you must not, come again when you may.

E. Ant.

What art thou that keep’st me out from the house I owe?

S. Dro. [Within.]

The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio.

E. Dro.

O villain, thou hast stol’n both mine office and my name:

The one ne’er got me credit, the other mickle blame.

If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place,

Thou wouldst have chang’d thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass.

Enter Luce [within].

Luce [Within.]

What a coil is there, Dromio?

Who are those at the gate?

E. Dro.

Let my master in, Luce.

Luce [Within.]

Faith, no, he comes too late,

And so tell your master.

E. Dro.

O Lord, I must laugh!

Have at you with a proverb—Shall I set in my staff?

Luce [Within.]

Have at you with another, that’s—When? can you tell?

S. Dro. [Within.]

If thy name be called Luce—Luce, thou hast answer’d him well.

E. Ant.

Do you hear, you minion? You’ll let us in, I hope?

Luce [Within.]

I thought to have ask’d you.

S. Dro. [Within.]

And you said no.

E. Dro.

So come help: well strook! there was blow for blow.

E. Ant.

Thou baggage, let me in.

Luce [Within.]

Can you tell for whose sake?

E. Dro.

Master, knock the door hard.

Luce [Within.]

Let him knock till it ache.

E. Ant.

You’ll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.

Luce [Within.]

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

Enter Adriana [within].

Adr [Within.]

Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise?

S. Dro. [Within.]

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

E. Ant.

Are you there, wife? You might have come before.

Adr [Within.]

Your wife, sir knave? Go get you from the door.

E. Dro.

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

Ang.

Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would fain have either.

Balth.

In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.

E. Dro.

They stand at the door, master, bid them welcome hither.

E. Ant.

There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.

E. Dro.

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.

E. Ant.

Go fetch me something: I’ll break ope the gate.

S. Dro. [Within.]

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

E. Dro.

A man may break a word with [you], sir, and words are but wind:

Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.

S. Dro. [Within.]

It seems thou want’st breaking, out upon thee, hind!

E. Dro.

Here’s too much “out upon thee!”; I pray thee let me in.

S. Dro. [Within.]

Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin.

E. Ant.

Well, I’ll break in: go borrow me a crow.

E. Dro.

A crow without feather? Master, mean you so?

For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a feather:

If a crow help us in, sirrah, we’ll pluck a crow together.

E. Ant.

Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow.

Balth.

Have patience, sir, O, let it not be so!

Herein you war against your reputation,

And draw within the compass of suspect

Th’ unviolated honor of your wife.

Once this—your long experience of [her] wisdom,

Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,

Plead on [her] part some cause to you unknown;

And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse

Why at this time the doors are made against you.

Be rul’d by me, depart in patience,

And let us to the Tiger all to dinner;

And about evening come yourself alone

To know the reason of this strange restraint.

If by strong hand you offer to break in

Now in the stirring passage of the day,

A vulgar comment will be made of it;

And that supposed by the common rout

Against your yet ungalled estimation,

That may with foul intrusion enter in,

And dwell upon your grave when you are dead;

For slander lives upon succession,

For ever hous’d where it gets possession.

E. Ant.

You have prevail’d. I will depart in quiet,

And in despite of mirth mean to be merry.

I know a wench of excellent discourse,

Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle;

There will we dine. This woman that I mean,

My wife (but, I protest, without desert)

Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal:

To her will we to dinner.

To Angelo.

Get you home

And fetch the chain; by this I know ’tis made.

Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine,

For there’s the house. That chain will I bestow

(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife)

Upon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste.

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,

I’ll knock elsewhere, to see if they’ll disdain me.

Ang.

I’ll meet you at that place some hour hence.

E. Ant.

Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter [Luciana] with Antipholus of Syracusa.

[Luc.]

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.

S. Ant.

Sweet mistress—what your name is else, I know not,

Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine—

Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not