This is the fairy land;-O, spite of spites!- They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not? Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot! shape. Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. Dro. S. No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. grass. 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be, But I should know her as well as she knows me. Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to scorn.- Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? I'll say as they say, and perséver so, Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate. Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. The same. Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR. Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours: Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know: That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show: If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. Dro. E. 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 ass 19. Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 'Pray God, our cheer May answer my good will, and your good welcome here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. Ant. E. O signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords. Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words. Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more spar ing guest: But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'! Dro. S. [within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch: Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store, When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street. Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on's feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door. Dro. S. Right, sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day. Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come again, when you may. Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I owe? Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio. Dro. E. O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name; |