Shakespeare's First Folio
Chapter 83 : Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath, Come where's the Chaine, I pray yo

Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath, Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it

Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance, Good sir say, whe'r you'l answer me, or no: If not, Ile leaue him to the Officer

Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you

Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine

Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine

Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since

Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to say so

Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it.

Consider how it stands vpon my credit

Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite

Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey me

Gold. This touches me in reputation.

Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this Officer

Ant. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had: Arrest me foolish fellow if thou dar'st

Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer.

I would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorne me so apparantly

Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite

Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile.

But sirrah, you shall buy this sport as deere, As all the mettall in your shop will answer

Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay.

Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium, That staies but till her Owner comes aboord, And then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir, I haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae.

The s.h.i.+p is in her trim, the merrie winde Blowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all, But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe

An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep What s.h.i.+p of Epidamium staies for me

S.Dro. A s.h.i.+p you sent me too, to hier waftage

Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope, And told thee to what purpose, and what end

S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone, You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke

Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure And teach your eares to list me with more heede: To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight: Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske That's couer'd o're with Turkish Tapistrie, There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it: Tell her, I am arrested in the streete, And that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone, On Officer to prison, till it come.

Exeunt.

S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd, Where Dowsabell did claime me for her husband, She is too bigge I hope for me to compa.s.se, Thither I must, although against my will: For seruants must their Masters mindes fulfill.

Exit

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?

Might'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie, That he did plead in earnest, yea or no: Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?

What obseruation mad'st thou in this case?

Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face

Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right

Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere

Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee were

Luc. Then pleaded I for you

Adr. And what said he?

Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me

Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue?

Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue.

First, he did praise my beautie, then my speech

Adr. Did'st speake him faire?

Luc. Haue patience I beseech

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still.

My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.

He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where: Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde, Stigmaticall in making worse in minde

Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one?

No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone

Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say: And yet would herein others eies were worse: Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away; My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.

Enter S.Dromio.

Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make haste

Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?

S.Dro. By running fast

Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?

S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then h.e.l.l: A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him; On whose hard heart is b.u.t.ton'd vp with steele: A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe: A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe: A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds The pa.s.sages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands: A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well, One that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to hel