READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, scene ii; Act II, scene i |
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Act II, Scene i:
A public place.
A public place.
| [Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.] |
| ADRIANA: |
| Neither my husband nor the slave return'd |
| That in such haste I sent to seek his master! |
| Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, |
| And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. |
| Good sister, let us dine, and never fret: |
| A man is master of his liberty; |
| Time is their master; and when they see time, |
| They'll go or come. If so, be patient, sister. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Why should their liberty than ours be more? |
| LUCIANA: |
| Because their business still lies out o' door. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Look when I serve him so, he takes it ill. |
| LUCIANA: |
| O, know he is the bridle of your will. |
| ADRIANA: |
| There's none but asses will be bridled so. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. |
| There's nothing situate under heaven's eye |
| But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky; |
| The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, |
| Are their males' subjects, and at their controls: |
| Man, more divine, the masters of all these, |
| Lord of the wide world and wild wat'ry seas, |
| Indued with intellectual sense and souls |
| Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, |
| Are masters to their females, and their lords: |
| Then let your will attend on their accords. |
| ADRIANA: |
| This servitude makes you to keep unwed. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. |
| ADRIANA: |
| But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. |
| ADRIANA: |
| How if your husband start some other where? |
| LUCIANA: |
| Till he come home again, I would forbear. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she pause: |
| They can be meek that have no other cause. |
| A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, |
| We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; |
| But were we burd'ned with like weight of pain, |
| As much, or more, we should ourselves complain: |
| So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, |
| With urging helpless patience would relieve me: |
| But if thou live to see like right bereft, |
| This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Well, I will marry one day, but to try:— |
| Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh. |
| [Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS.] |
| ADRIANA: |
| Say, is your tardy master now at hand? |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind? |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear. Beshrew his hand, I |
| scarce could understand it. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Spake he so doubtfully thou could'st not feel his meaning? |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows; and |
| withal so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them. |
| ADRIANA: |
| But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? |
| It seems he hath great care to please his wife. |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Horn-mad, thou villain? |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure, he's stark mad. |
| When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, |
| He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: |
| "Tis dinner time' quoth I; 'My gold,' quoth he: |
| 'Your meat doth burn' quoth I; 'My gold,' quoth he: |
| 'Will you come home?' quoth I; 'My gold,' quoth he: |
| 'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?' |
| 'The pig' quoth I 'is burn'd'; 'My gold,' quoth he: |
| 'My mistress, sir,' quoth I; 'Hang up thy mistress; |
| I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!' |
| LUCIANA: |
| Quoth who? |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Quoth my master: |
| 'I know' quoth he 'no house, no wife, no mistress:' |
| So that my errand, due unto my tongue, |
| I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; |
| For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Go back again! and be new beaten home? |
| For God's sake, send some other messenger. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| And he will bless that cross with other beating: |
| Between you I shall have a holy head. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Hence, prating peasant: fch thy master home. |
| DROMIO OF EPHESUS: |
| Am I so round with you, as you with me, |
| That like a football you do spurn me thus? |
| You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: |
| If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. |
| [Exit.] |
| LUCIANA: |
| Fie, how impatience low'reth in your face! |
| ADRIANA: |
| His company must do his minions grace, |
| Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. |
| Hath homely age the alluring beauty took |
| From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: |
| Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? |
| If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, |
| Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: |
| Do their gay vestments his affections bait? |
| That's not my fault; he's master of my state: |
| What ruins are in me that can be found |
| By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground |
| Of my defeatures: my decayed fair |
| A sunny look of his would soon repair; |
| But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale |
| And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale. |
| LUCIANA: |
| Self-harming jealousy!—fie, beat it hence. |
| ADRIANA: |
| Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. |
| I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; |
| Or else what lets it but he would be here? |
| Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain;— |
| Would that alone, alone he would detain, |
| So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! |
| I see the jewel best enamelled |
| Will lose his beauty; yet the gold 'bides still |
| That others touch, yet often touching will |
| Wear gold; and no man that hath a name |
| By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. |
| Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, |
| I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. |
| LUCIANA: |
| How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! |
| [Exeunt.] |
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