Page:Shakespeare - First Folio Faithfully Reproduced, Methuen, 1910.djvu/120

94 Stigmaticall in making worse in minde.

Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one? No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone.

Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say: And yet would herein others eies were worse: Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away; My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.

Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make haste.

Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?

S.Dro. By running fast.

Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?

S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell: A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him; On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele: A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe: A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe: A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermadscountermands [sic] The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands: A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well, One that before the Iudgment carries poore soules to hel.

Adr. Why man, what is the matter?

S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on the case.

Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite?

S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well; but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell, will you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in his deske.

Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at. Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt: Tell me, was he arested on a band?

S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing: A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring.

Adria. What, the chaine?

S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone: It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one.

Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here.

S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes backe for verie feare.

Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou reason?

S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then he's worth to season. Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say, That time comes stealing on by night and day? If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way, Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?

Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight, And bring thy Master home imediately. Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit: Conceit, my comfort and my iniurie. There's not a man I meete but doth salute me As if I were their well acquainted friend, And euerie one doth call me by my name: Some tender monie to me, some inuite me; Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses; Some offer me Commodities to buy. Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop, And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me, And therewithall tooke measure of my body. Sure these are but imaginarie wiles, And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.

S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?

Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou meane?

S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake your libertie.

Ant. I vnderstand thee not.

S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them: he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike.

Ant. What thou mean'st an officer?

S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue you good rest.

Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie: Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone?

S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since, that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer you.

Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions: Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.

Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus: I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now: Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day.

Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not.

S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?

Ant. It is the diuell.

S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam: And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will burne, come not neere her.

Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir. Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?

S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake a long spoone.

Ant. Why Dromio?

S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must eate with the diuell.

Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse: I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon.

Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd, And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you.

S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile,