The Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare (black female authors txt) 📕

/> DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name;
The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.
If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place,
Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an
ass.

LUCE.
[Within.] What a coil is there! Dromio, who are those at the
gate?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
Let my master in, Luce.

LUCE.
Faith, no, he comes too late;
And so tell your master.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
O Lord, I must laugh; -
Have at you with a proverb: - Shall I set in my staff?

LUCE.
Have at you with another: that's - When? can you tell?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
If thy name be called Luce, - Luce, thou hast answer'd him well.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I hope?

LUCE.
I thought to have ask'd you.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
And you said no.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
So, Come, help: well struck; there was blow for blow.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Thou baggage, let me in.

LUCE.
Can you tell for whose sake?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
Master, knock the door hard.

LUCE.
Let him knock till it ache.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.

LUCE.
What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town?

ADRIANA.
[Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noise?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Are you there, wife? you might have come before.

ADRIANA.
Your wife, sir knave! go, get you from the door.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore.

ANGELO.
Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would fain have
either.

BALTHAZAR.
In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
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.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
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.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
It seems thou want'st breaking; out upon thee, hind!

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
Here's too much out upon thee: I pray thee, let me in.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Well, I'll break in; go borrow me a crow.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
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.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Go, get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow.

BALTHAZAR.
Have 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 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.

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. - Get you home
And fetch the chain: by this I know 'tis made:
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine;
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 2. The same.

[Enter LUCIANA with 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 ruinate?
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 on 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 thee, 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 LUCIANA.]

[Enter from the house of ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, 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 beside 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 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 OF SYRACUSE.
How dost thou mean? - a fat marriage?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, 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. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in
them will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday,
she'll burn week longer than the whole world.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
What complexion is she of?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Swart, like my shoe; but her face nothing like so clean kept: for
why? she sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime of it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
That's a fault that water will mend.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
What's her name?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Nell, sir;