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Scene II.
The mart

FIRST MERCHANT. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day a Syracusian merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host.
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time;
Till that, I’ll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return and sleep within mine inn;
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.

DROMIO OF SYR. Many a man would take you at your word,
And go indeed, having so good a mean.

[Exit.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. A trusty villain, sir, that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town,
And then go to my inn and dine with me?

FIRST MERCHANT. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit;
I crave your pardon. Soon at five o’clock,
Please you, I’ll meet with you upon the mart,
And afterward consort you till bed time.
My present business calls me from you now.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Farewell till then. I will go lose myself,
And wander up and down to view the city.

FIRST MERCHANT. Sir, I commend you to your own content.

[Exit FIRST MERCHANT.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. He that commends me to mine own content
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water
That in the ocean seeks another drop,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself.
So I, to find a mother and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Here comes the almanac of my true date.
What now? How chance thou art return’d so soon?

DROMIO OF EPH. Return’d so soon! rather approach’d too late.
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell—
My mistress made it one upon my cheek;
She is so hot because the meat is cold,
The meat is cold because you come not home,
You come not home because you have no stomach,
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what ‘tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray:
Where have you left the money that I gave you?

DROMIO OF EPH. O-Sixpence that I had a Wednesday last
To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper?
The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. I am not in a sportive humour now;
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how dar’st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody?

DROMIO OF EPH. I pray you jest, sir, as you sit at dinner.
I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed,
For she will score your fault upon my pate.
Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

DROMIO OF EPH. To me, sir? Why, you gave no gold to me.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,
And tell me how thou hast dispos’d thy charge.

DROMIO OF EPH. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner.
My mistress and her sister stays for you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me
In what safe place you have bestow’d my money,
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am undispos’d.
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

DROMIO OF EPH. I have some marks of yours upon my pate,
Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both.
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance you will not bear them patiently.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Thy mistress’ marks! What mistress, slave, hast thou?

DROMIO OF EPH. Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,
And prays that you will hie you home to dinner.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.

[Beats him.]

DROMIO OF EPH. What mean you, sir? For God’s sake hold your hands!
Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels.

[Exit.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYR. Upon my life, by some device or other
The villain is o’erraught of all my money.
They say this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches that deform the body,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such-like liberties of sin;
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I’ll to the Centaur to go seek this slave.
I greatly fear my money is not safe.

[Exit.]

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