breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transform'd me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i' the wheel. Ant.S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road; [Exit. Ant.S. There's none but witches do inhabit here ; I'll stop my ears against the mermaid's song. Enter ANGELO. Ang. Master Antipholus? Ant.S. Ay, that's my name. Ang. I know it well, sir: Lo, here is the chain; I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine: Ant.S. What is your will, that I shall do with this? Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have: Go home with it, and please your wife withal; And soon at supper-time I'll visit you, And then receive my money for the chain. Ant.S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now, For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more. Ang. You are a merry man, sir; fare you well. [Exit. Ant.S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell : But this I think, there's no man is so vain, That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain. I see, a man here needs not live by shifts, When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. [6] Alluding to the superstition of the common people, that nothing could resist a witch's power of transforming men into animals, but a great share of faith. WARBURTON. I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay; ACT IV. [Exit. SCENE I. The same. Enter a Merchant, ANGELO, and an Officer. Merchant. YOU know, since Pentecost the sum is due, Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you, Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and DROMIO of Ephesus. Offi. That labour may you save; see where he comes. And buy a rope's end; that will I bestow Dro.E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope! [Exit DROMIO. Ant.E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to you: Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note, [7] A gilder is a coin valued from one shilling and six-pence to two shillings. STEEVENS. [8] i.e. accruing to me. STEEVENS. 37 VOL. I. Which doth amount to three odd ducats more Besides, I have some business in the town: Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself? enough. Ang. Well, sir, I will: have you the chain about you? Ant.E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have ; Or else you may return without your money. Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain; Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long. Ant.E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porcupine: I should have chid you for not bringing it, But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, despatch. Ang. You hear, how he importunes me; the chainAnt.E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money. Ang. Come, come, you know, I gave it you even now; Either send the chain, or send me by some token. Ant.E. Fie! now you run this humour out of breath : Come, where's the chain? I pray you, let me see it. Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance : Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no; Ant.E. I answer you! What should I answer you? say so. Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: Consider, how it stands upon my credit. Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. Offi. I do; and charge you, in the duke's name, to obey me. Ang. This touches me in reputation : Either consent to pay the sum for me, Ant.E. Consent to pay thee that I never had! Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer ;- Offi. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit. Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. Dro.S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, Ant. E. How now ! a madman? Why thou peevish sheep, What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? Dro.S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. Ant.E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope; And told thee to what purpose, and what end. Dro.S. You sent me, sir, for a rope's-end as soon : Ant.E. I will debate this matter at more leisure, [Exe. Merchant, ANGELO, Officer, and ANT. E. Dro.S. To Adriana ! that is where we din'd, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband : She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, The same. SCENE II. [Exit. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me. First, he did praise my beauty; then, my speech. 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, 1 Ill-fac'd, worse-bodied, shapeless every where ; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, 2 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 ;3 My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse. [9] Alluding to those meteors in the sky, which have the appearance of lines of armies meeting in the shock. To this appearance he compares civil wars in another place-King Henry IV. P. 1. sc. I. WARBURTON. [1] Sere-i. e. dry, withered. JOHNSON. [2] That is, marked or stigmatized by nature with deformity, as a token of his vicious disposition. JOHNSON. [3] This expression seems to have been proverbial. Greene, in his second Part of Coney-Catching, 1592, says,-" But again to our priggers, who, as before I said, cry with the lapwing farthest from the nest, and from their place of residence where their most abode is." STEEVENS. |