Dark-working forcerers, that change the mind;
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;
Diguifed cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many fuch like liberties of fin:
If it prove fo, I will be gone the fooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go feek this flave;
I greatly fear, my mony is not fafe.

[Exit.

attentively confider thefe three Lines, must confefs, that the Poet intended the Epithet given to each of thefe Mifcreants, fhould declare the Power by which they perform their Feats, and which would therefore be a just Characteristick of each of them. Thus, by nimble Jugglers, we are taught that they perform their Tricks by Slight of Hand: and by Soul-killing Witches, we are inform'd, the Mischief they do is by the Affistance 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. Besides, this Epithet agrees as well to Witches, as to them; and therefore, certainly our Author could not design This in their Characte riftick. I am confident, we fhould read;

Drug-working Sorcerers, that change the Mind;

And we know by the whole Hiftory of ancient and modern Superftition, that thefe kind of Jugglers always pretended to work Changes of the Mind by these Applications.

Mr. Warburton.

ACT

A C T

II.

SCENE, the House of Antipholis of Ephefus.

N

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

ADRIANA.

EITHER my husband nor the flave return'd,

That in fuch hafte I fent to feek his master!
Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.

Luc. Perhaps, fome merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he's fomewhere gone to dinner:
Good fifter, let us dine, and never fret.

A man is mafter of his liberty:

Time is their mafter, and when they see time,
They'll go or come; if fo, be patient, fifter.

Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more?
Luc. Because their business still lyes out a door.
Adr. Look, when I ferve him fo, he takes it ill.
Luc. Oh, know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none, but affes, will be bridled fo.
Luc. Why, head-ftrong liberty is lafht with wo.
There's nothing fituate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound in earth, in fea, in sky:
The beafts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' fubjects, and at their controls:
Man, more divine, the mafter of all these,
Lord of the wide world, and wide wat'ry feas,
Indu'd with intellectual fense and foul,
Of more preeminence than fish and fowl,
Are mafters 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

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 ?
Luc. .'Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel tho' fhe paufe;
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 would't relieve me :
But if thou live to fee like right bereft,

This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try; Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh. Enter Dromio of Ephefus.

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

Adr. Say, did't thou fpeak with him? know'ft thou his mind?

E. Dro. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear, Beshrew his hand, I fcarce could under-ftand it.

Luc. Spake he fo doubtfully, thou could't not feel his meaning?

E. Dro. Nay, he ftruck fo plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal fo doubtfully, that I could fcarce understand them.

Adr. But fay, I pr'ythee, is he coming home?

It seems, he hath great care to please his wife.

E. Dro. Why, mistress, fure, my mafter is horn-mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain?

E. Dro. I mean not, cuckold-mad; but, fure, he's ftark mad:

When I defir'd 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

Your meat doth burn, quoth I; my gold, quoth he
Will you come home, quoth I? my gold, quoth he:
Where is the thoufand marks I gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; my gold, quoth he.
My miftrefs, Sir, quoth I; hang up thy mistress;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy miftrefs!
Luc. Quoth who?

E. Dro. Quoth my mafter:

I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no miftrefs;
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, I bare home upon my fhoulders:
For, in conclufion, he did beat me there.

Adr. Go back again, thou flave, and fetch him home.

E. Dro. Go back again, and be new beaten home? For God's fake, fend fome other messenger.

Adr. Back, flave, or I will break thy pate across. E. Dro. And he will bless that crofs with other beating:

Between you I fhall have a holy head.

Adr. Hence, prating peafant, fetch thy mafter home. E. Dro. Am I fo round with you as you with me, That like a foot-ball you do fpurn me thus ? You spurn me hence, and he will fpurn me hither: If I laft in this fervice, you muft cafe me in leather.

[Exit. Luc. Fie, how impatience lowreth in your face! Adr. His company must do his minions grace, Whilft I at home ftarve for a merry look: Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then, he hath wafted it. Are my difcourfes dull? barren my wit? If voluble and fharp difcourfe be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. Do their gay veftments his affections bait ? That's not my fault: he's master of my state. What ruins are in me, that can be found By him not ruin'd? then, is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A funny look of his would foon repair.

But,

But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his ftale.
Luc. Self-harming jealoufie!-fie, beat it hence.
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with fuch wrongs difpenfe:
I know, his eye doth homage other-where;
Or else what lets it, but he would be here?
Sifter, you know he promis'd me a chain;
Would that, alone, alone, he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I fee, the jewel, beft enameled, (3)
Will lose his beauty; and the gold bides ftill,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold and fo no man, that hath a name,
But falfhood, and corruption, doth it fhame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools ferve mad jealoufie!
[Exeunt.

(3) I fee the Jewel best enameled

Will lofe bis beauty; yet the gold bides fill
That others touch, and often touching will:
Where gold and no Man that bath a Name,

By Falfbood and Corruption doth it Shame.] In this miferable mangled Condition is this Paffage exhibited in the first Folio. All the Editions fince have left out the last Couplet of it; I prefume, as too hard for them. Mr. Pope, who pretends to have collated the first Folio, fhould have spar'd us the Lines, at least, in their Corruption. - I communicated my

Doubts upon this Paffage to my Friend Mr. Warburton, and to his Sagacity I owe, in good part, the Correction of it. The Sense of the whole is now very pertinent; which, without the two Lines from the first Folio was very imperfect; not to fay, ridiculous. The Comparison is fully clofed. "Gold, "indeed, bides handling well; but, for all that, often "Touching will wear even Gold: So, no Man of a great "Character, even as pure as Gold, but may in Time lofe it ❝ by Falshood and Corruption.

SCENE