Ant. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this, I pray,Where you have left the mony that I gave you?

E. Dro. Oh,-fix-pence, that I had a Wednesday last, To pay the fadler for my mistress' crupper ? The fadler had it, Sir; I kept it not.

Ant. I am not in a sportive humour now. Tell me and dally not, where is the mony ? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine own cuftody ?

1

E. Dro. I pray you, jeft, Sir, as you fit at dinner: I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed; For the will score your fault upon my pate : Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock;' And strike you home without a messenger.

Ant. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of feafon :

Reserve them 'till a merrier hour than this:
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?
E. Dro. To me, Sir? why, you gave no gold to me.
Ant. Come on, Sir knave, have done your foolish-
nefs;

And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge?

E. Dro. My charge was but to fetch you from the

mart

Home to your house, the Phanix, Sir, to dinner;
My mistress and her fister stay for you.

Ant. Now, as I am a christian, answer me,
In what fafe place you have bestow'd my mony;
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd:
Where are the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

E. Dro. I have fome marks of yours upon my pate;
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders;
But not a thousand marks between you both.
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perhaps, you will not bear them patiently.

r

Ant.

:

i

Ant. Thy mistress' marks? what mistress, flave,

haft thou?

E. Dro. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the
Phœnix;

She, that doth fast, 'till you come home to dinner;
And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.
Ant. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid? there take you that, Sir knave.
E. Dro. What mean you, Sir? for God's fake, hold
your hands;

Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels.

[Exit Dromio.

Ant. Upon my life, by some device or other,
The villain is * o'er-raught of all my money.
They say, this town is full of couzenage2;
As nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye;
Dark-working forcerers, that change the mind;
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;

Disguised

Thus, by nimble Jugglers, we are taught that they perform their Tricks by Slight of Hand: and by Soul-killing Witches, we are informed, the mischief they do is by the assistance of the Devil, to whom they have given their Souls: But then, by dark-working Sorcerers, we are not inftructed in the means by which they perform their Ends. Befides, this Epithet agrees as well to Witches, as to them, and therefore, certainly, our Author could not defign This in their Characteristick. We should read; Drug-working Sorcerers, that change the mind;

And we know by the History of ancient and modern Superstition, that these kind of Jugglers always pretended to

Difguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many fuch like liberties of fin+:
If it prove so, I will be gone the fooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go feek this slave;
I greatly fear, my money is not safe.

ACT II.

N

[Exit.

SCENE I.

The House of Antipholis of Ephesus.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

ADRIANA.

EITHER my husband, nor the slave return'd,
That in fuch haste I sent to seek his master!

Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.

Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:
Good fifter, let us dine, and never fret.
A man is master of his liberty:

Time is their master; and when they see time,
They'll go or come; If so, be patient, sister.

work Changes of the Mind by
these Applications.

WARBURTON.

should be read thus,
Soul-killing forcerers, that change
the mind;
Dark-working witches, that de-
form the body.
This change seems to remove
all difficulties.

By Soul-killing I understand defroying the rational faculties by such means as make men fancy themselves beafts.

4

liberties of fin:] Sir T. Hanmer reads, Libertines, which, as the author has been enumerating not acts but perfons, feems right.

:

Adr.

i

Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more ?
Luc. Because their business still lies out a-door.
Adr. Look, when I ferve him so, he takes it ill.
Luc. Oh know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none but asses, will be bridled fo.
Luc. Why, head-strong liberty is lasht with woe.

There's nothing situate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound in earth, in fea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subjects, and at their controuls:
Man, more divine, the master of all these,
Lord of the wide world, and wide wat'ry seas,
Indu'd with intellectual sense and foul,
Of more preheminence than fish and fowl,
Are masters to their females, and their lords :
Then let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This fervitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.
Adr. But were you wedded, you would bear fome

fway..

Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where s?
Luc. 'Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience unmov'd! - no marvel tho' fhe pause;
They can be meek, that have no other cause :
A wretched foul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;
But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain..
So thou, that haft no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me:
But if thou live to fee like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

5-start fome other where?] I cannot but think that our author wrote,

-start Some other hare.

Luc.

pid is said to be a good hare-finder. To paufe is to reft, to be in

quiet.

1-fool-begg'd] She seems

So in Much ado about nothing, Cu- to mean by fool-begg'd patience, VOL. III. that

I

• Luc. Well, I will marry one day but to try : Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.

SCENE II.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? E. Dro. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, did'st thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?

E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning?"

E. Dro. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.

Adr. But fay, I pry'thee, is he coming home? It seems, he hath great care to please his wife.

E. Dro. Why, mistress, sure, my master is horn

mad.

Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain ?

E. Dro. I mean not, cuckold-mad; but, sure, he's

stark mad:

ا.

When I defired him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold:
'Tis dinner-time, quoth I; my gold, quoth he
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; my gold, quoth he:
Will you come home, quoth I? my gold, quoth he:
Where is the thosand marks I gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; my gold, quoth he.
My mistress, Sir, quoth I; hang up thy mistress;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress !

that patience which is so near to idiotical fimplicity, that your next relation would take advantage

from it to represent you as a fool and beg the guardianship of your fortune.

Luc.