The Comedy of Errors William Shakespeare (most read books TXT) š
- Author: William Shakespeare
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Herein you war against your reputation
And draw within the compass of suspect
The unviolated honour of your wife.
Once thisā āyour long experience of her wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years and modesty,
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,
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,
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,
Forever housed where it gets possession. Antipholus of Ephesus
You have prevailād: 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:
There will we dine. This woman that I mean,
My wifeā ābut, I protest, without desertā ā
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal:
To her will we to dinner. To Angelo. Get you home
And fetch the chain; by this I know ātis made:
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine;
For thereās the house: that chain will I bestowā ā
Be it for nothing but to spite my wifeā ā
Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste.
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
Iāll knock elsewhere, to see if theyāll disdain me.
The same.
Enter Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse. LucianaAnd may it be that you have quite forgot
A husbandās office? shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealthās sake use her with more kindness:
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness:
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shameās orator;
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtueās harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thief brags of his own attaint?
āTis double wrong, to truant with your bed
And let her read it in thy looks at board:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
We in your motion turn and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:
āTis holy sport to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.
Sweet mistressā āwhat your name is else, I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mineā ā
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earthās wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit,
Smotherād in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your wordsā deceit.
Against my soulās pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power Iāll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe:
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
To drown me in thy sisterās flood of tears:
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote:
Spread oāer the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed Iāll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die:
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
No;
It is thyself, mine own selfās better part,
Mine eyeās clear eye, my dear heartās dearer heart,
My food, my fortune and my sweet hopeās aim,
My sole earthās heaven and my heavenās claim.
Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee.
Thee will I love and with thee lead my life:
Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand.
O, soft, sir! hold you still:
Iāll fetch my sister, to get her good will. Exit.
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