The Comedy of Errors The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [9 vols.] · William Shakespeare
ACT III.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] Nor to-day here you must not; come again when you may. _Ant. E._ What art thou that keepest me out from the house I owe? _Dro. S._ [_Within_] The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio. _Dro. E._ O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name! The one ne’er got me credit, the other mickle blame. 45 If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. _Luce._ [_Within_] What a coil is there, Dromio? who are those at the gate? _Dro. E._ Let my master in, Luce. _Luce._ [_Within_] Faith, no; he comes too late; And so tell your master. _Dro. E._ O Lord, I must laugh! 50 Have at you with a proverb;--Shall I set in my staff? _Luce._ [_Within_] Have at you with another; that’s, --When? can you tell? _Dro. S._ [_Within_] If thy name be call’d Luce, --Luce, thou hast answer’d him well. _Ant. E._ Do you hear, you minion? you’ll let us in, I hope? _Luce._ [_Within_] I thought to have ask’d you. _Dro. S._ [_Within_] And you said no. 55 _Dro. E._ So, come, help:--well struck! there was blow for blow. _Ant. E._ Thou baggage, let me in. _Luce._ [_Within_] Can you tell for whose sake?
_Dro. E._ Master, knock the door hard. _Luce._ [_Within_] Let him knock till it ache. _Ant. E._ You’ll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down. _Luce._ [_Within_] What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town? 60 _Adr._ [_Within_] Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise? _Dro. S._ [_Within_] By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. _Ant. E._ Are you, there, wife? you might have come before. _Adr._ [_Within_] Your wife, sir knave! go get you from the door. _Dro. E._ If you went in pain, master, this ‘knave’ would go sore. 65 _Aug._ Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would fain have either. _Bal._ In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. _Dro. E._ They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither. _Ant. E._ There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. _Dro. E._ You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. 70 Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold: It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold. _Ant. E._ Go fetch me something: I’ll break ope the gate. _Dro. S._ [_Within_] Break any breaking here, and I’ll break your knave’s pate. _Dro. E._ A man may break a word with you, sir; and words are but wind; 75 Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.
_Dro. S._ [_Within_] It seems thou want’st breaking: out upon thee, hind! _Dro. E._ Here’s too much ‘out upon thee!’ I pray thee, let me in. _Dro. S._ [_Within_] Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin. _Ant. E._ Well, I’ll break in:--go borrow me a crow. 80 _Dro. E._ A crow without feather? Master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a feather: If a crow help us in, sirrah, we’ll pluck a crow together. _Ant. E._ Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow. _Bal._ Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so! 85 Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect Th’ unviolated honour of your wife. Once this,--your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 90 Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you. Be ruled by me: depart in patience, And let us to the Tiger all to dinner; 95 And about evening come yourself alone To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it, 100 And that supposed by the common rout Against your yet ungalled estimation, That may with foul intrusion enter in, And dwell upon your grave when you are dead; For slander lives upon succession, 105 For ever housed where it gets possession.
_Ant. E._ You have prevail’d: I will depart in quiet, And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. I know a wench of excellent discourse, Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle: 110 There will we dine. This woman that I mean, My wife--but, I protest, without desert-- Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal: To her will we to dinner. [_To Ang._] Get you home, And fetch the chain; by this I know ’tis made: 115 Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine; For there’s the house: that chain will I bestow-- Be it for nothing but to spite my wife-- Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste. Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 120 I’ll knock elsewhere, to see if they’ll disdain me. _Ang._ I’ll meet you at that place some hour hence. _Ant. E._ Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense. [_Exeunt._
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