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Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

Comfort my sister, chear her, call her wife; 'Tis holy sport to be a little * vain,

When the sweet breath of Aattery conquers strife. S. Ant. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, I

know not; Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine :) Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not

Than our earth's wonder, more than earth, divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;

Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,

The folded meaning of your words’ deceit ; Against my soul's pure truth why labour you,

To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a God? would you create me new?

Transform me then, and to your pow'r I'll yield. But if that I am I, then, well I know,

Your weeping sister is no wife of mine;
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;

Far more, far more, to you do I decline.
Oh, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,

To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears ;
Sing, Siren, for thyself, and I will dote;

Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie:

And in that glorious supposition think,
He gains by death, that hath such means to die;

Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink.
Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason fo?
S. Ant. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
Luc. It is a fault that springe th from your eye.
S. Ant. For gazing on your beams, fair fun, being

by.

(not,) got Place in the first Co- another in many other Passages pies intiead of but And there of our Author's Works. THEO. two Monoyable; have by Mil * Vain is light of iongae, not take reciprocally dispostess'd one voracioils.

Luc.

Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear

your sight.
S. Ant. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on

night.
Luc. Why call you me, love? call my sister so.
S. Ant. Thy sister's sister.
Luc. That's my sister.

S. Ant. No;
It is thyself, mine own self's better part :
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart,
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim,
My sole earth's heav'n, and my heaven's claim. *

Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be.
S. Ant. Call thyself sister, sweet; for I mean thee :
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand.

Luc. Oh, foft, Sir, hold I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [Ex. Luciana.

you still;

S CE N E III.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse. S. Ant. Why, how now, Dromio, where run'st thou fo fast?

S. Dro. Do you know me, Sir ? am I Dromio ? am I your man? am I myself?

S. Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.

S. Dro. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and befides myself.

S. Ant. What woman's man? and how besides thyself?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman ; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

My. fole earth's heav'n, and cant of lovers. When he calls her

my heav’n's claim.] When his heaven's claim, I cannot unhe calls the girl his only heaven derstand him. Perhaps he means on earth, he utters the common that which he asks of heaven.

S. Ant.

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S. Ant. What claim lays she to thee?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, such a claim as you would lay to your horse; and she would have me as a beaft: not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me.

S. Ant. What is she?

S. Dro. A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, Sir reverence: I have but lean luck in the match ; and yet is she a wond'rous fat marriage.

S. Ant. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage ?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, she's the kitchen wench, and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Lapland winter: if she lives 'till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.

S. Ant. What complexion is she of?

$. Dro. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept; for why ? she sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime of it.

S. Ant. That's a fault, that water will mend.
S. Dro. No, Sir, 'tis in grain ; Noah's food could

not do it.

S. Ant. 7 What's her name?

S: Dro. Nell, Sir ;-but her name and three quarters (that is, an ell and three quarters) will not measure her from hip to hip.

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7 S. Ant What's ber name? our Author, and Ben Jonson to

S. Dio. Nell, Sir; but ler countenance that current Vice of Name is three Quarters ; that is, the Times when this Play apan El ard three Qu rters, &c.] pear’d. Nor is Mr. Pope, in This Passage has hitherto lain as the Chafiiry of his Taste, to perplext and unintelligible, as it bristle up at me for the Revival is now ealy, and truly humors of th s Witricism, since I owe ous. If a C:nundrum bé restor’d, the Correction to the Sagacity of in fetting it right, who can hep the ingenious Dr. Thirity. įt? There are enough beides in

THEOBSID.

S. Ini.

S. Ant. Then she bears fome breadth ?

S. Dro. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip; she is spherical, like a globe : I could find out countries in her.

S. Ant. In what part of her body stands Ireland ?

S. Dro. Marry, Sir, in her buttocks, I found it out by the bogs.

S. Ant. Where Scotland ?

S. Dro. I found it out by the barrenness, hard in the palm of her hand. S. Ant. 8 Where France ?

S. Dro.

8 S. Ant. Where France ? what he means, by France mak

S. Dro. In her forehead : arm'd ing W'ar against her Heir. Now and reverted, making War against as, in 1591, Queen Elizabeth ber Hair.) All the other Coun- fent over 4000 Men, under the tries, mention'd in this Descrip- Conduct of the Earl of Eljex, to tion, are in Dromio's Replies fa- the Asistance of this Henry of tirically characteris'd: but here, Navarre; it seems to me very as the Editors have order'd it, probable, that during this Expeno Remark is made upon France; dition being on foot, this Conor any Reason given, why it medy made its Appearance. fhould be in her Forehead: but And it was the finest Address only the Kitchen-wench's high imaginable in the Poet to throw Forehead is rallied, as pushing such an oblique Sneer at France, back her Hair. Thus all the for opposing the Succesion of modern Editions ; but the first that Heir, whose Claim his RoyFolio reads - making W'ar a ai Mistress, the Queen, had sent gainst her Heir

-And I over a Force to establish, and am very apt to think, this last oblige them to acknowledge. is the true Reading; and that an

THEOBALD. Equivoque, as the French call it, With this correction and exa double Meaning, is design'd plication Dr. Warburton concurs, in the Poet's Allusion : and there and Sir T. Hanmer thinks an efore I have replac'd it in the quivocation intended, though he Text. In 1589, Henry III, of retains hair in the text. Yet surely France being stabb'd, and dying they have all loft the sense bylookof his Wound, was succeeded ing beyond it. Our authour,in my by Henry IV. of Navarre, whom opinion, only sports with an alluhe appointed his Successor ; but fion, in which he takes too much whofe Claim the States of France, delight, and means that his misrefifted, on account of his being tress had the French disease. The a Proteftant. This, I take it, is ideas are rather too offensive to

be

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S. Dro. In her forehead ; arm'd and reverted, mako ing war against her hair.

S. Ant. Where England ?

S. Dro. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them ; but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it.

S. Ant. Where Spain ?

S. Dro. Faith, I saw it not, but I felt it hot in her breath.

S. Ant. Where America, the Indies?

S. Dro. Oh, Sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellish'd with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires; declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who sent whole armadoes of carracts to be ballast at her nose.

S. Ant. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?

S. Dro. Oh, Sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me, call'd me Dromio, swore I was assurd to her, told me what privy marks I had about me, as the marks of

my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amaz'd, ran from her as a witch. * And, I think, if my breast had not been made of

faith,

be dilated, By a forehead armed, 9 To conclude, this drudze, or he means covered with in- diviner, laid claim to me,] A crusted eruptions; by reverted, little lower, he calls her witcb. he means having the hair turning A word is certainly dropt out of backward. An equivocal word the Text. We should read, must have senses applicable to both

this drudge of THE DEVIL, the subjects to which it is applied.

This diviner, Both Forehead and France might in some fort make war against Drudge of the Devil, is the right their hair, but how did the fore- pariphrasis for a with. hiad make war againit its heir ?

WARBURTON. The sense which I have given ' And, I think, if my beat immediately occurred to me, and had not been made of faith, &c.] will, I believe arise to every reader Alluding to the superstition of who is contented with the mean the common people, that noing that lies before him, with thing could refit a witch's power, out sending our conjecture in of transforming men into anifearch of refinements.

mals, but a great thare of faith :

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