Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 3
A public place.
Antipholus of Syracuse : There's not a man I meet but doth salute me
[p]As if I were their
well-acquainted friend;
[p]And every one doth call me by my
name.
[p]Some tender money to me; some invite me;
[p]Some other give
me thanks for kindnesses;
[p]Some offer me commodities to buy:
[p]Even
now a tailor call'd me in his shop
[p]And show'd me silks that he had
bought for me,
[p]And therewithal took measure of my body.
[p]Sure,
these are but imaginary wiles
[p]And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.
Dromio of Syracuse : Master, here's the gold you sent me for. What, have
[p]you got the
picture of old Adam new-apparelled?
Antipholus of Syracuse : What gold is this? what Adam dost thou mean?
Dromio of Syracuse : Not that Adam that kept the Paradise but that Adam
[p]that keeps the
prison: he that goes in the calf's
[p]skin that was killed for the
Prodigal; he that came
[p]behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid
you
[p]forsake your liberty.
Antipholus of Syracuse : I understand thee not.
Dromio of Syracuse : No? why, 'tis a plain case: he that went, like a
[p]bass-viol, in a
case of leather; the man, sir,
[p]that, when gentlemen are tired,
gives them a sob
[p]and 'rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on
decayed
[p]men and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up
[p]his
rest to do more exploits with his mace than a
[p]morris-pike.
Antipholus of Syracuse : What, thou meanest an officer?
Dromio of Syracuse : Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band, he that brings
[p]any man to answer
it that breaks his band; one that
[p]thinks a man always going to bed,
and says, 'God
[p]give you good rest!'
Antipholus of Syracuse : Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any
Dromio of Syracuse : Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the
[p]bark Expedition
put forth to-night; and then were
[p]you hindered by the sergeant, to
tarry for the hoy
[p]Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for
to
[p]deliver you.
Antipholus of Syracuse : The fellow is distract, and so am I;
[p]And here we wander in
illusions:
[p]Some blessed power deliver us from hence!
Courtezan : Well met, well met, Master Antipholus.
[p]I see, sir, you have found
the goldsmith now:
[p]Is that the chain you promised me to-day?
Antipholus of Syracuse : Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not.
Dromio of Syracuse : Master, is this Mistress Satan?
Antipholus of Syracuse : It is the devil.
Dromio of Syracuse : Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam; and here
[p]she comes in
the habit of a light wench: and thereof
[p]comes that the wenches say
'God damn me;' that's as
[p]much to say 'God make me a light wench.'
It is
[p]written, they appear to men like angels of light:
[p]light is
an effect of fire, and fire will burn;
[p]ergo, light wenches will
burn. Come not near her.
Courtezan : Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir.
[p]Will you go with me?
We'll mend our dinner here?
Dromio of Syracuse : Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat; or bespeak a
[p]long spoon.
Antipholus of Syracuse : Why, Dromio?
Dromio of Syracuse : Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with
[p]the devil.
Antipholus of Syracuse : Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me of supping?
[p]Thou art, as
you are all, a sorceress:
[p]I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.
Courtezan : Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
[p]Or, for my diamond, the
chain you promised,
[p]And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Dromio of Syracuse : Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail,
[p]A rush, a hair, a
drop of blood, a pin,
[p]A nut, a cherry-stone;
[p]But she, more
covetous, would have a chain.
[p]Master, be wise: an if you give it
her,
[p]The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it.
Courtezan : I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain:
[p]I hope you do not mean
to cheat me so.
Antipholus of Syracuse : Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us go.
Dromio of Syracuse : 'Fly pride,' says the peacock: mistress, that you know.
Courtezan : Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad,
[p]Else would he never so demean
himself.
[p]A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
[p]And for the
same he promised me a chain:
[p]Both one and other he denies me
now.
[p]The reason that I gather he is mad,
[p]Besides this present
instance of his rage,
[p]Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner,
[p]Of
his own doors being shut against his entrance.
[p]Belike his wife,
acquainted with his fits,
[p]On purpose shut the doors against his
way.
[p]My way is now to hie home to his house,
[p]And tell his wife
that, being lunatic,
[p]He rush'd into my house and took
perforce
[p]My ring away. This course I fittest choose;
[p]For forty
ducats is too much to lose.
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Next: Act 4 - Scene 4
