Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholly, Lightens my humour with his merry iests: What will you walke with me about the towne, And then goe to my Inne and dine with me? E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit: I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke, Please you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart, And afterward consort you till bed time: My present businesse cals me from you now

Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe, And wander vp and downe to view the Citie

E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.


Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get: I to the world am like a drop of water, That in the Ocean seekes another drop, Who falling there to finde his fellow forth, (Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe. So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother, In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanacke of my true date: What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone

E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late: The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit; The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell: My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke: She is so hot because the meate is colde: The meate is colde, because you come not home: You come not home, because you haue no stomacke: You haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast: But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray, Are penitent for your default to day

Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray? Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you

E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last, To pay the Sadler for my Mistris crupper: The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not

Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine owne custodie

E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner: I from my Mistris come to you in post: If I returne I shall be post indeede. For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate: Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke, And strike you home without a messenger

Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season, Reserue them till a merrier houre then this: Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee? E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me? Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes, And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge

E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart Home to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner; My Mistris and her sister staies for you

Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me, In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie; Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours That stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd: Where is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me? E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate: Some of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders: But not a thousand markes betweene you both. If I should pay your worship those againe, Perchance you will not beare them patiently

Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou? E.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner: And praies that you will hie you home to dinner

Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face Being forbid? There take you that sir knaue

E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands: Nay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.

Exeunt. Dromio Ep.

Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other, The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie. They say this towne is full of cosenage: As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie: Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde: Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie: Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes; And manie such like liberties of sinne: If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner: Ile to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue, I greatly feare my monie is not safe.


William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

All Pages of This Book
A Most Pleasant Comedy of Mucedorus
The Comedie of Errors
The Taming of the Shrew