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Enter Dromio [of] Ephesus with a rope’s end.

      Here comes my man: I think he brings the money.

      How now, sir? have you that I sent you for?

       E. Dro.

      Here’s that, I warrant you, will pay them all.

       E. Ant.

      But where’s the money?

       E. Dro.

      Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.

       E. Ant.

      Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope?

       E. Dro.

      I’ll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate.

       E. Ant.

      To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?

       E. Dro.

      To a rope’s end, sir, and to that end am I return’d.

       E. Ant.

      And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.

       [Beats Dromio]

      Off. Good sir, be patient.

      E. Dro. Nay, ’tis for me to be patient: I am in adversity.

      Off. Good now, hold thy tongue.

      E. Dro. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands.

      E. Ant. Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

      E. Dro. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows.

      E. Ant. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass.

      E. Dro. I am an ass indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have serv’d him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with beating. I am wak’d with it when I sleep, rais’d with it when I sit, driven out of doors with it when I go from home, welcom’d home with it when I return; nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and I think when he hath lam’d me, I shall beg with it from door to door.

       Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, and a schoolmaster call’d Pinch.

      E. Ant. Come go along, my wife is coming yonder.

      E. Dro. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end, or rather, the prophecy like the parrot, ‘beware the rope’s end.’

      E. Ant. Wilt thou still talk?

       Beats Dromio.

       Cour.

      How say you now? Is not your husband mad?

       Adr.

      His incivility confirms no less.

      Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer,

      Establish him in his true sense again,

      And I will please you what you will demand.

       Luc.

      Alas, how fiery, and how sharp, he looks!

       Cour.

      Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy!

       Pinch.

      Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse.

       E. Ant.

      There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.

       Strikes Pinch.

       Pinch.

      I charge thee, Sathan, hous’d within this man,

      To yield possession to my holy prayers,

      And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight:

      I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven!

       E. Ant.

      Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am not mad.

       Adr.

      O that thou wert not, poor distressed soul!

       E. Ant.

      You minion, you, are these your customers?

      Did this companion with the saffron face

      Revel and feast it at my house to-day,

      Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut,

      And I denied to enter in my house?

       Adr.

      O husband, God doth know you din’d at home,

      Where would you had remain’d until this time,

      Free from these slanders and this open shame.

       E. Ant.

      Din’d at home? Thou villain, what sayest thou?

       E. Dro.

      Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home.

       E. Ant.

      Were not my doors lock’d up, and I shut out?

       E. Dro.

      Perdie, your doors were lock’d, and you shut out.

       E. Ant.

      And did not she herself revile me there?

       E. Dro.

      Sans fable, she herself revil’d you there.

       E. Ant.

      Did not her kitchen maid rail, taunt, and scorn me?

       E. Dro.

      Certes she did, the kitchen vestal scorn’d you.

       E. Ant.

      And did not I in rage depart from thence?

       E. Dro.

      In verity you did, my bones bears witness,

      That since have felt the vigor of his rage.

       Adr.

      Is’t good to soothe him in these contraries?

       Pinch.

      It is no shame; the fellow finds his vein,

      And yielding to him, humors well his frenzy.

       E. Ant.

      Thou hast suborn’d the goldsmith to arrest me.

       Adr.

      Alas, I sent you money to redeem you,

      By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.

       E. Dro.

      Money by me? Heart and good will you might,

      But surely, master, not a rag of money.

       E. Ant.

      Went’st not thou to her for a purse of ducats?

      

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