The Complete Works of Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would fain have either.
Balth.
In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.
E. Dro.
They stand at the door, master, bid them welcome hither.
E. Ant.
There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.
E. Dro.
You would say so, master, if your garments were thin.
Your cake here is warm within: you stand here in the cold.
It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought and sold.
E. Ant.
Go fetch me something: I’ll break ope the gate.
S. Dro. [Within.]
Break any breaking here, and I’ll break your knave’s pate.
E. Dro.
A man may break a word with [you], sir, and words are but wind:
Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.
S. Dro. [Within.]
It seems thou want’st breaking, out upon thee, hind!
E. Dro.
Here’s too much “out upon thee!”; I pray thee let me in.
S. Dro. [Within.]
Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin.
E. Ant.
Well, I’ll break in: go borrow me a crow.
E. Dro.
A crow without feather? Master, mean you so?
For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a feather:
If a crow help us in, sirrah, we’ll pluck a crow together.
E. Ant.
Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow.
Balth.
Have patience, sir, O, let it not be so!
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
Th’ unviolated honor of your wife.
Once this—your long experience of [her] wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on [her] part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made against you.
Be rul’d by me, depart in patience,
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner;
And about evening come yourself alone
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rout
Against your yet ungalled estimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead;
For slander lives upon succession,
For ever hous’d where it gets possession.
E. Ant.
You have prevail’d. I will depart in quiet,
And in despite of mirth mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle;
There will we dine. This woman that I mean,
My wife (but, I protest, without desert)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal:
To her will we to dinner.
To Angelo.
Get you home
And fetch the chain; by this I know ’tis made.
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine,
For there’s the house. That chain will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife)
Upon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste.
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I’ll knock elsewhere, to see if they’ll disdain me.
Ang.
I’ll meet you at that place some hour hence.
E. Ant.
Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense.
Exeunt.
¶
[Scene II]
Enter [Luciana] with Antipholus of Syracusa.
[Luc.]
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:
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator:
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thief brags of his own [attaint]?
’Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy looks at board:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women, make us [but] believe
(Being compact of credit) that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve:
We in your motion turn, and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her [wife]:
’Tis holy sport