Act IV, Scene ii: The same.
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? | |
| Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye | |
| | That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? | |
| Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? | |
| | What observation mad'st thou in this case | |
| | Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face? | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | First he denied you had in him no right. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | He meant he did me none; the more my spite. | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | Then swore he that he was a stranger here. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | Then pleaded I for you. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | And what said he? | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | That love I begg'd for you he begg'd of me. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | With words that in an honest suit might move. | |
| | First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Didst speak him fair? | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | Have patience, I beseech. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | I cannot, nor I will not hold me still; | |
| | My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. | |
| | He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, | |
| | Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; | |
| | Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; | |
| | Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | Who would be jealous then of such a one? | |
| | No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Ah! but I think him better than I say, | |
| | And yet would herein others' eyes were worse: | |
| | Far from her nest the lapwing cries, away; | |
| | My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse. | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | Here, go; the desk, the purse: sweet now, make haste. | |
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| | LUCIANA: | |
| | How hast thou lost thy breath? | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | By running fast. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well? | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell. | |
| | A devil in an everlasting garment hath him; | |
| | One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel; | |
| | A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; | |
| | A wolf—nay worse, a fellow all in buff; | |
| | A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands | |
| | The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; | |
| | A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry foot well; | |
| | One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to hell. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Why, man, what is the matter? | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | I do not know the matter: he is 'rested on the case. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | What, is he arrested? tell me at whose suit? | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | I know not at whose suit he is arrested, well; | |
| | But he's in a suit of buff which 'rested him, that can I tell. | |
| | Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk? | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Go fetch it, sister. This I wonder at, | |
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| | Thus he unknown to me should be in debt.— | |
| | Tell me, was he arrested on a band? | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; | |
| | A chain, a chain: do you not hear it ring? | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | What, the chain? | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | No, no, the bell; 'tis time that I were gone. | |
| | It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | The hours come back! that did I never hear. | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | O yes. If any hour meet a sergeant, 'a turns back for very fear. | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | As if time were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason! | |
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| | DROMIO OF SYRACUSE: | |
| | Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he's worth to season. | |
| | Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say | |
| | That Time comes stealing on by night and day? | |
| | If he be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, | |
| | Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? | |
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| | ADRIANA: | |
| | Go, Dromio, there's the money, bear it straight; | |
| And bring thy master home immediately.— | |
| | Come, sister; I am press'd down with conceit- | |
| Conceit my comfort and my injury. | |
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