Ant. E. Wherefore ? for my dinner; I have not

dined to-day. 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 blame. If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or

thy name for an ass. Luce. [Within.] What a coil? is there? Dromio,

who are those at the gate ? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce.

'Faith, no; he comes too late. And so tell

your master. Dro. E.

O Lord, I must laugh.Have at you with a proverb.—Shall I set in my staff? Luce. Have at you with another; that's,—When?

can you tell ? Dro. S. If thy name be called Luce, Luce, thou

hast answered him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? You'll let us

in, I hope ? 3 Luce. I thought to have asked you. Dro. S.

And you said, no. Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there was

blow for blow. Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. Luce.

Can you tell for whose sake? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luce.

Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the

door down. Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in

the town? Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps

all this noise ? Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with

unruly boys. Ant. E. Are you there, wife ? you might have come

before. Adr. Your wife, sir knave! go, get you from the

door. Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave

would go sore, Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we

would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part'

with neither. Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid them

welcome hither. Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we

cannot get in. Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments

were thin. Your cake here is warm within ; you stand here in the

cold. It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought

and sold. Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the

gate. Dro. S Break any breaking here, and I'll break

your knave's pate. Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir ;

and words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. Dro. S. It seems thou wantest breaking Out

upon thee, hind!

Dro. E. Here is too much, out upon thee! I pray

thee, let me in. Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish

have no fin. Ant. E. Well, I'll break in. Go borrow me a crow. Dro. E. A crow without feather; master, mean

you so?

For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a

feather. If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together.

Ant. E. Go, get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow.

Bal. Have patience, sir. O, let it not be so;
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
The unviolated honor of your wife.
Once this ; your long experience of her wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made against you.
Be ruled by me; depart in patience,
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner;
And, about evening, come yourself alone
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in,
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rout
Against your yet ungalled estimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead.
For slander lives upon succession ;
Forever housed, where it gets possession.

Ant. E. You have prevailed; I will depart in quiet,
And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle.-

lal ;

There will we dine: this woman that I mean,
My wife (but, I protest, without desert,)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me wi
To her will we to dinner.-Get you home,
And fetch the chain ; by this,' I know, 'tis made.
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine ;
For there's the house ; that chain will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife)
Upon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste:
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.

Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour hence.
Ant. E. Do so; this jest shall cost me some expense.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same.

Enter LUCIANA, and AntiPholus of Syracuse. Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot

A husband's office? Shalí Antipholus' hate, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?

Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous ? ? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more

kindness; Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ;

Muffle your false love with some show of blindness; Let not my sister read it in your eye;

Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ;

Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger;
1 By this time.
2 In the old copy the first four lines stand thus :-

“ And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband's office ? Shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?

Shall love in buildings grow so ruinate ?" The present emendation was proposed by Steevens, though he admitted Theobald's into his own text. Love-springs are the buds of love, or rather the young shoots. “The spring, or young shoots that grow out of the stems or roots of trees.”Baret.

Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;

Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ;
Be secret-false ; what need she be acquainted ?

What simple thief brags of his own attaint ? ' 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,

And let her read it in thy looks at board. Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;

ni deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women! make us but believe,

Being compact of credit, that you love us; Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;

We in your motion turn, and you may move us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

Comfort my sister, cheer her; call her wife; 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,"

When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else,

I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,) Less, in your knowledge and your grace, you show not,

Than our earth's wonder; more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;

Lay open to my earthly, gross conceit, Smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,

The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labor you,

To make it wander in an unknown field ? Are you a god? would you create me new?

Transform me, then, and to your power I'll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know,

Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;

Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,

To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears ;
Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote.

Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, 1 Old copy, not. 2 i. e. being made altogether of credulity. 3 Vain is light of tongue, not veracious. 4 “ To lecline ; to turne or hang toward some place or thing.”—Baret.