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ACT IV. SCENE 3. 


The mart

Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

There's not a man I meet but doth salute me
As if I were their well-acquainted friend;
And every one doth call me by my name.
Some tender money to me, some invite me,
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses,
Some offer me commodities to buy;
Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop,
And show'd me silks that he had bought for me,
And therewithal took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles,
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter DROMIO OF SYRACUSE

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Master, here's the gold you sent me
for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new-apparell'd?

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

What gold is this? What Adam dost thou
mean?

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Not that Adam that kept the Paradise,
but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the
calf's skin that was kill'd for the Prodigal; he that came behind
you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

I understand thee not.

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

No? Why, 'tis a plain case: he that
went, like a bass-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir,
that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a sob, and rest
them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men, and give
them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more
exploits with his mace than a morris-pike.

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

What, thou mean'st an officer?

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band;
that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; on
that thinks a man always going to bed, and says 'God give
you good rest!'

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is
there any ship puts forth to-night? May we be gone?

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Why, sir, I brought you word an
hour since that the bark Expedition put forth to-night; and
then were you hind'red by the sergeant, to tarry for the
boy Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver
you.

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

The fellow is distract, and so am I;
And here we wander in illusions.
Some blessed power deliver us from hence!

Enter a COURTEZAN

 COURTEZAN.

Well met, well met, Master Antipholus.
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now.
Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day?

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me
not.

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Master, is this Mistress Satan?

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

It is the devil.

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's
dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; and
thereof comes that the wenches say 'God damn me!' That's
as much to say 'God make me a light wench!' It is written
they appear to men like angels of light; light is an effect
of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn.
Come not near her.

 COURTEZAN.

Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir.
Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner here.

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat,
or bespeak a long spoon.

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Why, Dromio?

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Marry, he must have a long spoon
that must eat with the devil.

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Avoid then, fiend! What tell'st thou me
of supping?
Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress;
I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.

 COURTEZAN.

Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd,
And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

Some devils ask but the parings of one's
nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone;
But she, more covetous, would have a chain.
Master, be wise; an if you give it her,
The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it.

 COURTEZAN.

I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain;
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.

 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us
go.

 DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.

'Fly pride' says the peacock. Mistress, that
you know.

Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE

 COURTEZAN.

Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad,
Else would he never so demean himself.
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for the same he promis'd me a chain;
Both one and other he denies me now.
The reason that I gather he is mad,
Besides this present instance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner
Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.
Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doors against his way.
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife that, being lunatic,
He rush'd into my house and took perforce
My ring away. This course I fittest choose,
For forty ducats is too much to lose. Exit

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