Knowledge house - The Complete Works of Shakespeare

Adr.

With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

Luc.

With words that in an honest suit might move.

First he did praise my beauty, then my speech.

Adr.

Didst speak him fair?

Luc.

Have patience, I beseech.

Adr.

I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still,

My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,

Ill-fac’d, worse bodied, shapeless every where;

Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind,

Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

Luc.

Who would be jealous then of such a one?

No evil lost is wail’d when it is gone.

Adr.

Ah, but I think him better than I say,

And yet would herein others’ eyes were worse:

Far from her nest the lapwing cries away;

My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.

Enter Dromio [of] Syracusa.

S. Dro.

Here, go: the desk, the purse! [Sweat] now, make haste!

Luc.

How hast thou lost thy breath?

S. Dro.

By running fast.

Adr.

Where is thy master, Dromio? Is he well?

S. Dro.

No, he’s in Tartar limbo, worse than hell:

A devil in an everlasting garment hath him;

[One] whose hard heart is button’d up with steel;

A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough;

A wolf, nay worse, a fellow all in buff;

A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands

The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands;

A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well;

One that before the judgment carries poor souls to hell.

Adr.

Why, man, what is the matter?

S. Dro.

I do not know the matter, he is ’rested on the case.

Adr.

What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit.

S. Dro.

I know not at whose suit he is arrested well;

But [’a’s] in a suit of buff which ’rested him, that can I tell.

Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk?

Adr.

Go fetch it, sister.

(Exit Luciana.)

This I wonder at,

[That] he unknown to me should be in debt.

Tell me, was he arrested on a band?

S. Dro.

Not on a band but on a stronger thing:

A chain, a chain! Do you not [hear] it ring?

Adr.

What, the chain?

S. Dro.

No, no, the bell, ’tis time that I were gone:

It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.

Adr.

The hours come back! that did I never [hear].

S. Dro.

O yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, ’a turns back for very fear.

Adr.

As if Time were in debt! How fondly dost thou reason!

S. Dro.

Time is a very bankrout and owes more than he’s worth to season.

Nay, he’s a thief too: have you not heard men say,

That Time comes stealing on by night and day?

If [’a] be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way,

Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?

Enter Luciana.

Adr.

Go, Dromio, there’s the money, bear it straight,

And bring thy master home immediately.

Come, sister, I am press’d down with conceit—

Conceit, my comfort and my injury.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Antipholus [of] Syracusa.

[S. Ant.]

There’s not a man I meet but doth salute me

As if I were their well-acquainted friend,

And every one doth call me by my name:

Some tender money to me, some invite me;

Some other give me thanks for kindnesses;

Some offer me commodities to buy.

Even now a tailor call’d me in his shop,

And show’d me silks that he had bought for me,

And therewithal took measure of my body.

Sure these are but imaginary wiles,

And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter Dromio [of] Syracusa.

S. Dro. Master, here’s the gold you sent me for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparell’d?

S. Ant. What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean?

S. Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calve’s-skin that was kill’d for the Prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

S. Ant. I understand thee not.

S. Dro. No? Why, ’tis a plain case: he that went like a base-viol in a case of leather; the man, sir, that when gentlemen are tir’d, gives them a sob and ’rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decay’d men and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike.

S. Ant. What, thou mean’st an officer?

S. Dro. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band: he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that thinks a man always going to bed and says, “God give you good rest!”

S. Ant. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ships puts forth to-night? May we be gone?

S. Dro. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the bark Expedition put forth to-night, and then were you hind’red by the sergeant to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you.

S. Ant.

The fellow is distract, and so am I,

And here we wander in illusions:

Some blessed power deliver us from hence!

Enter a Courtezan.

Cour.

Well met, well met, Master Antipholus.

I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now.

Is that the chain you promis’d me to-day?

S. Ant. Sathan, avoid, I charge thee tempt me not.

S. Dro. Master, is this Mistress Sathan?

S. Ant. It is the devil.

S. Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil’s dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; and thereof comes that the wenches say, “God damn me,” that’s as much to say, “God make me a light wench.” It is written, they appear to men like angels of light, light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn: ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her.

Cour.

Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir.

Will you go with me? we’ll mend our dinner here.

S. Dro. Master, if [you] do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.

S. Ant. Why, Dromio?

S. Dro. Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.

S. Ant.

Avoid then, fiend, what tell’st thou me of supping?

Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress:

I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.

Cour.

Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,

Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis’d,

And I’ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

S. Dro.

Some devils ask but the parings of one’s nail,

A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,

A nut, a cherry-stone;

But she, more covetous, would have a chain.

Master, be wise, and if you give it her,

The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it.

Cour.

I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain;

I hope you do not mean to cheat me so?

S. Ant.

Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us go.

S. Dro.

“Fly pride,” says the peacock: mistress, that you know.

Exit [with Antipholus of Syracuse].

Cour.

Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad,

Else would he never so demean himself.