Ant. S. Why, Dromio?

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

Ant. S. 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.

had at dinner,

Cour. Give me the ring of mine you
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd;
And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

Dro. S. 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.

Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch! Come Dromio, let

us go.

Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock: Mistress, that you know. [Exeunt ANT. and DRO. Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad, Else would he never so demean himself: A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, And for the same he promis'd me a chain! Both one, and other, he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad (Besides this present instance of his rage), Is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner,

Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.

7 In The Witch, by Middleton, when a spirit descends, Hecate exclaims:

'There's one come down to fetch his dues,

A kisse, a coll, a sip of blood,' &c.

Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doors against his way.
My way is now, to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that, being lunatick,
He rush'd into my house, and took perforce
My ring away: This course I fittest choose;
For forty ducats is too much to lose.

SCENE IV. The same.

[Exit.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and an Officer.

Ant. E. Fear me not man, I will not break away; I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood to-day : And will not lightly trust the messenger, That I should be attach'd in Ephesus:

I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears.—

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus with a rope's end. Here comes my man; I think, he brings the money. How now, sir? have you that I sent you for?

Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them

all1.

Ant. E. But where's the money?

the
gave money

for the rope.

Dro. E. Why, sir, I Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope? Dro. E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? Dro. E. To a rope's end, sir: and to that end am I return'd.

Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. [Beating him.

1i. e. punish them all by corporal correction. Falstaff says, in King Henry IV. Part 1. 'I have pepper'd the rogues; two of them, I'm sure, I've pay'd.'

Off. Good sir, be patient.

Dro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient; I am in adversity.

Off. Good now, hold thy tongue.

Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands.

Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows.

Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass.

Dro. E. I am an ass indeed; you may prove it by my long ears 2. I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service, but blows: when I am cold, he heats me with beating: when I am warm, he cools me with beating: I am waked with it, when I sleep; raised with it, when I sit; driven out of doors with it, when I go from home; welcomed home with it, when I return: nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door.

Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, and the Courtezan, with PINCH3, and others.

Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder.

Dro. E. Mistress, respice finem*, respect your

2 Long from frequent pulling.

3 In the old copy- and a schoolmaster, called Pinch.' As learning was necessary for an exorcist, the schoolmaster was often employed. Within a very few years, in country villages the pedagogue was still a reputed conjurer.

4 Buchanan wrote a pamphlet against the Lord of Liddington, which ends with these words: respice finem, respice funem. Shakspeare's quibble may be borrowed from this. The parrot's proVOL. IV.

R

end; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, Be

ware the rope's end.

Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk?

[Beats him.

Cour. How say you now? is not your husband mad?
Adr. His incivility confirms no less.—
Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer;
Establish him in his true sense again,

And I will please you what you will demand.
Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks!
Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy 5!
Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your
pulse.

Ant. E. There is my hand and let it feel your ear. Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers,

And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight;
I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven.

Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace; I am not mad.

Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul! Ant. E. You minion, you, are these your customers 6?

phecy may be understood by means of the following lines in Hudibras:

Could tell what subtlest parrots mean,
That speak and think contrary clean;
What member 'tis of whom they talk,

When they cry rope, and walk, knave, walk.'

5 This tremor was anciently thought to be a sure indication of being possessed by the devil. Caliban in the Tempest saysThou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling.

6A customer,' says Malone, 'is used in Othello for a common woman. Here it seems to signify one who visits such women.' It is surprising that a man like Malone, whose life had been devoted to the study and elucidation of Shakspeare, should so often seem ignorant of the language of the poet's time. A customer was a familiar, an intimate, a customary haunter of any place; as any of the old dictionaries would have shown him

Did this companion' with a saffron face
Revel and feast it at my house to-day,
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house?

Adr. O, husband, God doth know you din'd at home,

Where 'would, you had remain'd until this time, Free from these slanders, and this open shame! Ant. E. Din'd at home! Thou villain, what say'st thou?

Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at

home.

Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I shut out?

Dro. E. Perdy, your doors were lock'd, and you shut out.

Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there? Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself revil'd you there. Ant. E. Did not her kitchen maid rail, taunt, and scorn me?

Dro. E. Certes, she did; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you.

Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from thence? Dro. E. In verity you did;—my bones bear wit

ness,

That since have felt the vigour of his rage.

Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries? Pinch. It is no shame; the fellow finds his vein, And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy.

under the word consuetudo or custom. It is true that in Othello, and in All's Well that Ends Well, Shakspeare has used the word to signify a common woman; i. e. one familiar with any man. This was a popular application of the word. In Udal's translation of Erasmus's Apophthegms, p. 55, we have it applied to a man as Shakspeare has done here:- Aristippus was a customer of one Lais, a notable misliving woman.'

7 Companion is a word of contempt, anciently used as we now use fellow.

8 A corruption of the common French oath par dieu.