THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. William Shakespeare

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.

       Table of Contents

      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:

       But if thou live to see like right bereft,

       This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left.

       LUCIANA.

       Well, I will marry one day, but to try:—

       Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.

       [Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS.]

       ADRIANA.

       Say, is your tardy master now at hand?

       DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

       Nay, he’s at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.

       ADRIANA.

       Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou