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What is the course and drift of your compact ?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this tiine. Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very
words Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my
life. Ant. S. 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 con
tempt. 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, briar, or idle moss;' Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. Ant. $. To me she speaks ; she moves me for
her theme :
you are from me exempt,] Johnson says that exempt means separated, parted; yet I think that Adriana does not use the word exempt in that sense, but means to say, that as he was her husband she had no power over him, and that he was privileged to do her wrong. M. Mason.
idle moss;] That is, moss that produces no fruit, but being unfertile is useless.
Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for
dinner. Dro. S. O, for my beads! I cross me for a
sinner. This is the fairy land;-0, spite of spites! We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish 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 drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I?
No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for
grass. 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be,
ca But I should know her as well as she knows me.
om Adr. Come, come, longer will I be a fool;
a , To put the finger in the eye and weep, , Whilst man, and master, laugh 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: Şirrah, if
. any for your master, Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter.-Come, sister:-Dromio, play the porter well.
Ant. S. 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 !
13.0-And shrite you That is, I will call you to confession, and make you télites our ticketThat is
I'll say as they say, and perséver so,
; and let none enter, lest I break your
pate. Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late.
SCENE I. The same.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephe
sus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.
beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show:
carkanet,] Seems to have been a necklace, or rather chain, perhaps hanging down double from the neck.
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave
were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I
think. Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. Dro. E,
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
Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 'Pray
God, our cheer May answer my good will, and your good welcome
here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your
welcome dear. Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or
A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty
dish. Bal. Good meat, sir, is common; that every
churl affords. Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's
nothing but words. Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a
Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more spar
ing 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. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian,
Dro. S. [Within.] Mome, malt- horse, capon,
coxcomb, idiot, patch !9 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. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My
master stays in the street. Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he
lest he catch cold on's feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the
door. Dro. S. Right, sir, I'll tell you when, an
when, an you'll tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not
Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come
again, when you may. Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from
the house I owe?1 Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my
name is Dromio. Dro. E. O villain, thou hast stolen both mine
office and my name; The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle
* Mome,] A dull stupid blockhead, a stock, a post. This owes its original to the French word Momon, which signifies the gaming at dice in masquerade, the custom and rule of which is, that a strict silence is to be observed: whatever sum one stakes, another covers, but not a word is to be spoken. From hence also comes our word mum! for silence. HAWKINS.
9 - patch!] i. e. fool. Alluding to the parti-coloured coats worn by the licensed fools or jesters of the age.
I owe?] i. e. I own, am owner of. VOL. IV.