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I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot;
Ant. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you
In Ephesus I am but two hours old,
Ant. By Dromio?
Ant. Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?
S. Dro. I, sir? I never saw her 'till this time.
Ant. Villain, thou liest; for even her very words Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
281 S. Dro. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. How can she thus then call us by our names, Unless it be by inspiration ?
Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, To counterfeit thus grosly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood? Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: 290 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine ; Whose weakness, marry'd to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate : If ought possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, briar, or idle moss; Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. Ant. To me she speaks ; she moves ine for her
theme : What, was I marry'd to her in my dream? Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this? 300 What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ? Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the favour'a fallacy.
Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
S. Dro. Dh, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner. This is the fairy land ;-oli, spight of spights !We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprights; If we obey them not, this will ensue, They'll suck our breath, and pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer’st
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot! S. Dro. I am transformed, master, am I not?
Ant. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I.
Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
Ant. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? 330
S. Dro. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ?
ACT III. SCENE I.
The Street before ANTIPHOLIS's House.
Enter Anti. PHOLiS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, Angelo, and BALTHAZAR.
E. Ant. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us
My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours :
9 Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? E. Dro. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I
know : That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave
were ink, Your own hand-writing would tell you what I think.
E. Ant. I think, thou art an ass.
E. Dro. Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. I should kick, being kick’d; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an