Luc. Why prate'st thou to thyself, and an swer'st not? Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot! Dro. S. I am transformed, Master, am not I? Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I. Dro. S. Nay, Master, both in mind, and in my shape. Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. Dro. S. No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass. 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be, But I should know her as well as she knows me. Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep, Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to scorn. Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. — Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? pate. Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [Exeunt. Vol. VII. 8 АСТ III. SCENE I. The same. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephe. sus, ANCELO, and BALTHAZAR. Ant. E. Good Signior Angelo, you must ex cuse us all; My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours; And that to-morrow you will bring it home. Dro. E. Say what you will, Sir, but I know what I know: That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show: If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass. aut. E. You are sad, Signior Balthazar: 'Pray God, our cheer May answer my good will, and your good wel come here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, Sir, and your welcome dear. Ant. E. O, Signior Balthazar, either, at flesh or fish, A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, Sir, is common; churl affords. that every Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothig but words. Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest: But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'! Dro. S. [within] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch: Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store,. When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street. Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on's feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door. Dro. S. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day. Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; Ant. E. again, when you may. come What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I owe? 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 had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou would'st have chang'd 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. 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 answer'd him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in I hope? Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. S. Dro. E. Ant. E. And you said, no. So, come, help; well struck; there was blow for blow. Thou baggage, let me in. I.uce. Can you tell for whose sake? 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 Ant. E. Are you Adr. Your wife, with unruly boys. there, wife? you might have come before. Sir kuave! go, get you from the door. Dro. E. If you went in pain, Master, this kuave 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, Ant. E. Master; bid them welcome hither. 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: |