William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Is apprehended for arrival here;

And, not being able to buy out his life,

According to the statute of the town,

Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.—

There is your money that I had to keep.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,

And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.

Within this hour it will be dinner-time;

Till that, I’ll view the manners of the town,

Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,

And then return and sleep within mine inn;

For with long travel I am stiff and weary.—

Get thee away.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Many a man would take you at your word,

And go indeed, having so good a mean.

[Exit DROMIO.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

A trusty villain, sir, that very oft,

When I am dull with care and melancholy,

Lightens my humour with his merry jests.

What, will you walk with me about the town,

And then go to my inn and dine with me?

MERCHANT.

I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,

Of whom I hope to make much benefit:

I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o’clock,

Please you, I’ll meet with you upon the mart,

And afterward consort you till bedtime:

My present business calls me from you now.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,

And wander up and down to view the city.

MERCHANT.

Sir, I commend you to your own content.

[Exit MERCHANT.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

He that commends me to mine own content

Commends me to the thing I cannot get.

I to the world am like a drop of water

That in the ocean seeks another drop;

Who, failing there to find his fellow forth,

Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:

So I, to find a mother and a brother,

In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

[Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS.]

Here comes the almanac of my true date.

What now? How chance thou art return’d so soon?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

Return’d so soon! rather approach’d too late.

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;

The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell—

My mistress made it one upon my cheek:

She is so hot because the meat is cold;

The meat is cold because you come not home,;

You come not home because you have no stomach;

You have no stomach, having broke your fast;

But we, that know what ‘tis to fast and pray,

Are penitent for your default to-day.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Stop—in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray:

Where have you left the money that I gave you?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

O,—sixpence that I had o’Wednesday last

To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper;—

The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

I am not in a sportive humour now;

Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?

We being strangers here, how dar’st thou trust

So great a charge from thine own custody?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

I pray you jest, sir, as you sit at dinner:

I from my mistress come to you in post:

If I return, I shall be post indeed;

For she will score your fault upon my pate.

Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock,

And strike you home without a messenger.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.

Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me!

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,

And tell me how thou hast dispos’d thy charge.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

My charge was but to fetch you from the mart

Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner:

My mistress and her sister stay for you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Now, as I am a Christian, answer me,

In what safe place you have bestow’d my money:

Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,

That stands on tricks when I am undispos’d;

Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

I have some marks of yours upon my pate,

Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders,

But not a thousand marks between you both.—

If I should pay your worship those again,

Perchance you will not bear them patiently.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Thy mistress’ marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phoenix;

She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,

And prays that you will hie you home to dinner.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

What mean you, sir? for God’s sake hold your hands!

Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels.

[Exit DROMIO.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Upon my life, by some device or other,

The villain is o’er-raught of all my money.

They say this town is full of cozenage;

As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,

Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind,

Soul-killing witches that deform the body,

Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,

And many such-like liberties of sin:

If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.

I’ll to the Centaur to go seek this slave:

I greatly fear my money is not safe.

[Exit.]

ACT II.

SCENE 1. A public place.

[Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.]

ADRIANA.

Neither my husband nor the slave return’d

That in such haste I sent to seek his master!

Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock.

LUCIANA.

Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,

And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner.

Good sister, let us dine, and never fret:

A man is master of his liberty;

Time is their master; and when they see time,

They’ll go or come. If so, be patient, sister.

ADRIANA.

Why should their liberty than ours be more?

LUCIANA.

Because their business still lies out o’ door.

ADRIANA.

Look when I serve him so, he takes it ill.

LUCIANA.

O, know he is the bridle of your will.

ADRIANA.

There’s none but asses will be bridled so.

LUCIANA.

Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe.

There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye

But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky;

The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,

Are their males’ subjects, and at their controls:

Man, more divine, the masters of all these,

Lord of the wide world and wild wat’ry seas,

Indued with intellectual sense and souls

Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,

Are masters to their females, and their lords:

Then let your will attend on their accords.

ADRIANA.

This servitude makes you to keep unwed.

LUCIANA.

Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.

ADRIANA.

But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.

LUCIANA.

Ere I learn love, I’ll practise to obey.

ADRIANA.

How if your husband start some other where?

LUCIANA.

Till he come home again, I would forbear.

ADRIANA.

Patience unmov’d, no marvel though she pause:

They can be meek that have no other cause.

A wretched soul, bruis’d with adversity,

We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;

But were we burd’ned with like weight of pain,

As much, or more, we should ourselves complain:

So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,

With urging helpless patience would relieve me: