Shakespeare's First Folio Part 81

E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let me in

S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue no fin

Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow

E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so; For a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether, If a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together

Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow

Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so, Heerein you warre against your reputation, And draw within the compa.s.se of suspect Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.

Once this your long experience of your wisedome, Her sober vertue, yeares, and modestie, Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne; And doubt not sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the dores are made against you.

Be rul'd by me, depart in patience, And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner, And about euening come your selfe alone, To know the reason of this strange restraint: If by strong hand you offer to breake in Now in the stirring pa.s.sage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it; And that supposed by the common rowt Against your yet vngalled estimation, That may with foule intrusion enter in, And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead; For slander liues vpon succession: For euer hows'd, where it gets possession

Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet, And in despight of mirth meane to be merrie: I know a wench of excellent discourse, Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle; There will we dine: this woman that I meane My wife (but I protest without desert) Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall: To her will we to dinner, get you home And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made, Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine, For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow (Be it for nothing but to spight my wife) Vpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste: Since mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me, Ile knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me

Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence

Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia.

Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot A husbands office? shall Antipholus Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?

Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?

If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse: Or if you like else-where doe it by stealth, m.u.f.fle your false loue with some shew of blindnesse: Let not my sister read it in your eye: Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator: Looke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie: Apparell vice like vertues harbenger: Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted, Teach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint, Be secret false: what need she be acquainted?

What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine?

'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed, And let her read it in thy lookes at boord: Shame hath a b.a.s.t.a.r.d fame, well managed, Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word: Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue (Being compact of credit) that you loue vs, Though others haue the arme, shew vs the sleeue: We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.

Then gentle brother get you in againe; Comfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise; 'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine, When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife

S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I know not; Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine: Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not, Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.

Teach me deere creature how to thinke and speake: Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit: Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake, The foulded meaning of your words deceit: Against my soules pure truth, why labour you, To make it wander in an vnknowne field?

Are you a G.o.d? would you create me new?

Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld.

But if that I am I, then well I know, Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe: Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline: Oh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note, To drowne me in thy sister floud of teares: Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote: Spread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires; And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie: And in that glorious supposition thinke, He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die: Let Loue, being light, be drowned if she sinke

Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so?

Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know

Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie

Ant. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by

Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere your sight

Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night

Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so

Ant. Thy sisters sister

Luc. That's my sister

Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part: Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart; My foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime; My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime

Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be

Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee: Thee will I loue, and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife: Giue me thy hand

Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still: Ile fetch my sister to get her good will.

Enter.

Enter Dromio, Siracusia.

Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so fast?

S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I my selfe?

Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thy selfe

Dro. I am an a.s.se, I am a womans man, and besides my selfe

Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy selfe?

Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman: One that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will haue me

Anti. What claime laies she to thee?

Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing a beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie beastly creature layes claime to me

Anti. What is she?

Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage

Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage?

Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease, and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne a weeke longer then the whole World

Anti. What complexion is she of?

Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like so cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes in the grime of it

Anti. That's a fault that water will mend

Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not do it

Anti. What's her name?

Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip

Anti. Then she beares some bredth?

Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe to hippe: she is sphericall, like a globe: I could find out Countries in her

Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?

Dro. Marry sir in her b.u.t.tockes, I found it out by the bogges