The Comedy of Errors. William Shakespeare

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 today.

      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 to dinner.

      ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

       What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,

       Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.

      DROMIO OF EPHESUS.

       What mean you, sir? for God’s sake hold your hands.

       Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels.

      [Exit Dromio.]

      ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.

       Upon my life, by some device or other

       The villain is o’er-raught 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.]