_Ant. E._ Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow.

_Bal._ Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so! 85 Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compa.s.s of suspect Th' unviolated honour of your wife.

Once this,--your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 90 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; 95 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 pa.s.sage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it, 100 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, 105 For ever housed where it gets possession.

_Ant. E._ You have prevail'd: 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: 110 There will we dine. This woman that I mean, My wife--but, I protest, without desert-- Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal: To her will we to dinner. [_To Ang._] Get you home, And fetch the chain; by this I know 'tis made: 115 Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine; 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, 120 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._

NOTES: III, 1.

SCENE I. ANGELO and BALTHAZAR.] Angelo the Goldsmith and Balthasar the Merchant. Ff.

1: _all_] om. Pope.

11-14: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.

11: _Say_] _you must say_ Capell.

13: _the skin_] _my skin_ Collier MS.

14: _own_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

_you_] _you for certain_ Collier MS.

15: _doth_] _dont_ Theobald.

19: _You're_] _Y'are_ Ff. _you are_ Capell.

20: _here_] om. Pope.

21-29: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.

31: _Ginn_] om. Pope. _Jen'_ Malone. _Gin'_ Collier. _Jin_ Dyce.

36-60: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.

32, sqq.: [Within] Rowe.

46: _been_] F1. _bid_ F2 F3 F4.

47: _an a.s.s_] _a face_ Collier MS.

48: Luce. [Within] Rowe. Enter Luce. Ff.

_there, Dromio? who_] _there! Dromio, who_ Capell.

54: _hope_] _trow_ Theobald. Malone supposes a line omitted ending _rope_.

61: Adr. [Within]. Rowe. Enter Adriana. Ff.

65-83: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.

67: _part_] _have part_ Warburton.

71: _cake here_] _cake_ Capell. _cake there_ Anon. conj.

72: _mad_] F1. _as mad_ F2 F3 F4.

_as a buck_] om. Capell.

75: _you,_] _your_ F1.

85: _so_] _thus_ Pope.

89: _Once this_] _Own this_ Malone conj. _This once_ Anon. conj.

_her_] Rowe. _your_ Ff.

91: _her_] Rowe. _your_ Ff.

93: _made_] _barr'd_ Pope.

105: _slander_] _lasting slander_ Johnson conj.

_upon_] _upon its own_ Capell conj.

106: _housed ... gets_] Collier. _hous'd ... gets_ F1.

_hous'd ... once gets_ F2 F3 F4. _hous'd where 't gets_ Steevens.

108: _mirth_] _wrath_ Theobald.

116: _Porpentine_] Ff. _Porcupine_ Rowe (and pa.s.sim).

117: _will I_] F1. _I will_ F2 F3 F4.

119: _mine_] F1. _my_ F2 F3 F4.

122: _hour_] F1. _hour, sir_ F2 F3 F4.

_SCENE II. The same._

_Enter LUCIANA and _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_._

_Luc._ 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 building, grow so ruinous?

If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 5 Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness: Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth; m.u.f.fle 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; 10 Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger; 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? 15 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d fame, well managed; Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. 20 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; 25 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 of mine,-- 30 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 earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, 35 The folded meaning of your words' deceit.

Against my soul's pure truth why labour you To make it wander in an unknown field?

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

Transform me, then, and to your power I'll yield. 40 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, 45 To drown me in thy sister flood of tears: Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote: Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed I'll take them, and there lie; And, in that glorious supposition, think 50 He gains by death that hath such means to die: Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!

_Luc._ What, are you mad, that you do reason so?

_Ant. S._ Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.

_Luc._ It is a fault that springeth from your eye. 55

_Ant. S._ For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.

_Luc._ Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.

_Ant. S._ As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.

_Luc._ Why call you me love? call my sister so.

_Ant. S._ Thy sister's sister.

_Luc._ That's my sister.

_Ant. S._ No; 60 It is thyself, mine own self's better part, Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.