William Shakespeare - Ultimate Collection: Complete Plays & Poetry in One Volume. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.
doom’d to die.—
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
GAOLER.
I will, my lord.
AEGEON.
Hopeless and helpless doth Aegeon wend.
But to procrastinate his lifeless end.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE 2. A public place.
[Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and a MERCHANT.]
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 SYRACUSE.
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 SYRACUSE.
Many a man would take you at your word,
And go indeed, having so good a mean.
[Exit DROMIO.]
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
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?
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 bedtime:
My present business calls me from you now.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,
And wander up and down to view the city.
MERCHANT.
Sir, I commend you to your own content.
[Exit MERCHANT.]
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
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, failing 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.
[Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS.]
Here comes the almanac of my true date.
What now? How chance thou art return’d so soon?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
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 SYRACUSE.
Stop—in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray:
Where have you left the money that I gave you?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
O,—sixpence that I had o’Wednesday last
To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper;—
The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
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 EPHESUS.
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 SYRACUSE.
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 EPHESUS.
To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me!
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,
And tell me how thou hast dispos’d thy charge.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner:
My mistress and her sister stay for you.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
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 EPHESUS.
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 SYRACUSE.
Thy mistress’ marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
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