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  • Title: The Comedy of Errors (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Matthew Steggle

  • Copyright Matthew Steggle. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Matthew Steggle
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Comedy of Errors (Folio 1, 1623)

    94 The Comedie of Errors.
    Stigmaticall in making worse in minde.
    Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one?
    1130No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone.
    Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say:
    And yet would herein others eies were worse:
    Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away;
    My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.

    1135 Enter S.Dromio.
    Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make
    Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
    S.Dro. By running fast.
    1140Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?
    S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell:
    A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him;
    On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:
    A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe:
    1145A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe:
    A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermãds
    The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands:
    A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,
    One that before the Iudgmẽt carries poore soules to hel.
    1150Adr. Why man, what is the matter?
    S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on
    the case.
    Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite?
    S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well;
    1155but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell,
    will you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in
    his deske.
    Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.
    Exit Luciana.
    1160Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt:
    Tell me, was he arested on a band?
    S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing:
    A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring.
    Adria. What, the chaine?
    1165S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:
    It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one.
    Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here.
    S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes
    backe for verie feare.
    1170Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou
    S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then
    he's worth to season.
    Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say,
    1175That time comes stealing on by night and day?
    If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way,
    Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?

    Enter Luciana.
    Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight,
    1180And bring thy Master home imediately.
    Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit:
    Conceit, my comfort and my iniurie. Exit.

    Enter Antipholus Siracusia.
    There's not a man I meete but doth salute me
    1185As if I were their well acquainted friend,
    And euerie one doth call me by my name:
    Some tender monie to me, some inuite me;
    Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses;
    Some offer me Commodities to buy.
    1190Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,

    And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,
    And therewithall tooke measure of my body.
    Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,
    And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.

    1195 Enter Dromio. Sir.
    S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what
    haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?
    Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou
    1200S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but
    that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the
    calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that
    came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you for-
    sake your libertie.
    1205Ant. I vnderstand thee not.
    S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like
    a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when
    gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them:
    he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them
    1210suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more ex-
    ploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike.
    Ant. What thou mean'st an officer?
    S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings
    any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that
    1215thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue
    you good rest.
    Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie:
    Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone?
    S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since,
    1220that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then
    were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy
    Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer
    Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I,
    1225And here we wander in illusions:
    Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.

    Enter a Curtizan.
    Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus:
    I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now:
    1230Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day.
    Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not.
    S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?
    Ant. It is the diuell.
    S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam:
    1235And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and
    thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's
    as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is writ-
    ten, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an
    effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will
    1240burne, come not neere her.
    Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir.
    Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?
    S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake
    a long spoone.
    1245Ant. Why Dromio?
    S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must
    eate with the diuell.
    Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of sup- (ping?
    Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse:
    1250I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon.
    Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
    Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd,
    And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you.
    S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile,