The Comedy of Errors, William Shakespeare [book club suggestions .txt] 📗

patience, sir; O, let it not be so!
Herein you war against your reputation
And draw within the compass of suspect
The unviolated honour 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 ruled 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,
Forever housed where it gets possession. Antipholus of Ephesus

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.

Angelo I’ll meet you at that place some hour hence. Antipholus of Ephesus Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense. Exeunt. Scene II

The same.

Enter Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse. 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:
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 to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

Antipholus of Syracuse

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,
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 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.
O, 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 them 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!

Luciana What, are you mad, that you do reason so? Antipholus of Syracuse Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know. Luciana It is a fault that springeth from your eye. Antipholus of Syracuse For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. Luciana Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight. Antipholus of Syracuse As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. Luciana Why call you me love? call my sister so. Antipholus of Syracuse Thy sister’s sister. Luciana That’s my sister. Antipholus of Syracuse

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 of Syracuse

Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee.
Thee will I love and with thee 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 fetch my sister, to get her good will. Exit.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse. Antipholus of Syracuse Why, how now, Dromio! where runn’st thou so fast? Dromio of Syracuse Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am I your man? am I myself? Antipholus of Syracuse Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself. Dromio of Syracuse I am an ass, I am a woman’s man and besides myself. Antipholus of Syracuse What woman’s man? and how besides thyself? Dromio of Syracuse Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. Antipholus of Syracuse What claim lays she to thee? Dromio of Syracuse Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse; and she would have me as a beast: not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. Antipholus of Syracuse What is she? Dromio of Syracuse A very reverent body; ay, such