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LUCIANA: And may it be that you have quite forgot a husband’s office?
Shall, Antipholus, even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? Shall love in building grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth, then for her wealth’s sake, use her with more kindness!
Or if you like elsewhere do it by stealth; muffle your false love with some show of blindness.
’Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed, and let her read it in thy looks at board.
Shame hath a *** fame, well managed; ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.
Then gentle brother, get you in again! Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife.
’Tis holy sport to be a little vain, when the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.
ANTIPHOLUS S: Sweet mistress, what your name is else, I know not, nor by what wonder you do hit of 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, smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of thy words’ true deceit. Against my soul’s pure truth why labor thou to make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? Would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your power 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!
LUCIANA: What, are you mad, that you do reason so?
ANTIPHOLUS S: Not mad, but mated; how I do not know.
LUCIANA: It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
ANTIPHOLUS S: For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
LUCIANA: Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.
ANTIPHOLUS S: As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
LUCIANA: Why call you me love? Call my sister so.
ANTIPHOLUS S: Thy sister’s sister.
LUCIANA: That’s my sister!
ANTIPHOLUS S: 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 heaven, and my heaven’s claim.
LUCIANA: All this my sister is, or else should be.
ANTIPHOLUS S: Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee. With thee I'll lead my life.
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand.
LUCIANA: O soft sir, hold you still! I’ll go fetch my sister, to get her good will!
ANTIPHOLUS S: Why how now sir, where runnest thou so quickly?
DROMIO S: Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself?
ANTIPHOLUS S: Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thy self.
DROMIO S: I am an ***, I am a woman’s man, and besides my self.
ANTIPHOLUS S: What woman’s man? And how besides thy self?
DROMIO S: Marry, sir, besides my self, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.
ANTIPHOLUS S: What is she?
DROMIO S: A very reverent body; aye, 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 wondrous fat marriage.
ANTIPHOLUS S: How dost thou mean a fat marriage?
DROMIO S: Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen *** 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.
This drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me, called me Dromio; swore I was assured to her!
Told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm -
That I amazed, ran from her as a witch. And I think if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel,
She had turned me to a curtal dog, and made me turn the wheel!
ANTIPHOLUS S: Go hie thee presently, post to the road, and stay there Dromio until I come to thee.
And if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town tonight.
If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk till thou return to me.
If everyone knows us, and we know none, ’Tis time I think to trudge, pack, and be gone.
DROMIO S: As from a bear a man would run for life, so fly I from her that would be my wife.
ANTIPHOLUS S: There’s none but witches do inhabit here, and therefore ’tis high time that I were hence.
She that doth call me husband, even my soul doth for a wife abhor.
But her fair sister possessed with such a gentle sovereign grace, of such enchanting presence and discourse -
Hath almost made me traitor to myself; But lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song.
ANGELO the GOLDSMITH: Yoo hooooo!! Master Antipholus!
ANTIPHOLUS S: That is my name.
ANGELO: I know it well, sir; lo here is the chain. I thought to have taken you at the Porpentine,
ANTIPHOLUS S: What is your will that I shall do with this?
ANGELO: What please yourself, sir: I have made it for you.
ANTIPHOLUS S: Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not.
ANGELO: Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. Go home with it, and please your wife withal!
And soon at supper-time I’ll visit you, and then receive my money for the chain.
ANTIPHOLUS S: I pray you, sir, receive the money now, for fear you never see chain, nor money more.
ANGELO: You are a merry man, sir: fare you well. Ta-ta!
ANTIPHOLUS S: What I should think of this, I cannot tell.
But this I think, there’s no man is so vain That would refuse so fine an offered chain.
I’ll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay; If any ship puts forth, then straight away.