a one as a man may not speak of without he say “sir-reverence.” I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.
Antipholus of Syracuse |
How dost thou mean a fat marriage? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen wench and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, she’ll burn a week longer than the whole world. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
What complexion is she of? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept: for why, she sweats; a man may go over shoes in the grime of it. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
That’s a fault that water will mend. |
Dromio of Syracuse |
No, sir, ’tis in grain; Noah’s flood could not do it. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
What’s her name? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Nell, sir; but her name and three quarters, that’s an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Then she bears some breadth? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
In what part of her body stands Ireland? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found it out by the bogs. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Where Scotland? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
I found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm of the hand. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Where France? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her hair. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Where England? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them; but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Where Spain? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her breath. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Where America, the Indies? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? |
Dromio of Syracuse |
Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; called me Dromio; swore I was assured to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I amazed ran from her as a witch: And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith and my heart of steel, she had transform’d me to a curtal dog and made me turn i’ the wheel. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Go hie thee presently, post to the road:
An if the wind blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this town tonight:
If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
Where I will walk till thou return to me.
If everyone knows us and we know none,
’Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone.
|
Dromio of Syracuse |
As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife. Exit.
|
Antipholus of Syracuse |
There’s none but witches do inhabit here;
And therefore ’tis high time that I were hence.
She that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister,
Possess’d with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:
But lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song.
|
|
Enter Angelo with the chain. |
Angelo |
Master Antipholus— |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Ay, that’s my name. |
Angelo |
I know it well, sir: lo, here is the chain.
I thought to have ta’en you at the Porpentine:
The chain unfinish’d made me stay thus long.
|
Antipholus of Syracuse |
What is your will that I shall do with this? |
Angelo |
What please yourself, sir: I have made it for you. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not. |
Angelo |
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.
|
Antipholus of Syracuse |
I pray you, sir, receive the money now,
For fear you ne’er see chain nor money more.
|
Angelo |
You are a merry man, sir: fare you well. Exit. |
Antipholus of Syracuse |
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.
I’ll to the mart and there for Dromio stay:
If any ship put out, then straight away. Exit.
|
Act IV
Scene I
A public place.
|
Enter Second Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer. |
Second Merchant |
You know since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I have not much importuned you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia and want guilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or I’ll attach you by this officer.
|
Angelo |
Even just the sum that I do owe to you
Is growing to me by Antipholus,
And in the instant that I met with you
He had of me a chain: at five o’clock
I shall receive the money for the same.
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond and thank you too.
|
|
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus from the courtesan’s. |
Officer |
That labour may you save: see where he comes. |
Antipholus of Ephesus |
While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go thou
And buy a rope’s end: that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out
|