Is't good to soothe him in these contraries?
It is no shame: the fellow finds his vein,
And yielding to him humours well his frenzy.
Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me.
Alas, I sent you money to redeem you,
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.
Money by me! heart and goodwill you might;
But surely master, not a rag of money.
Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats?
He came to me and I deliver'd it.
And I am witness with her that she did.
God and the rope-maker bear me witness
That I was sent for nothing but a rope!
Mistress, both man and master is possess'd;
I know it by their pale and deadly looks:
They must be bound and laid in some dark room.
Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day?
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?
I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth.
And, gentle master, I received no gold;
But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out.
Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both.
Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all;
And art confederate with a damned pack
To make a loathsome abject scorn of me:
But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes
That would behold in me this shameful sport.
O, bind him, bind him! let him not come near me.
More company! The fiend is strong within him.
Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks!
What, will you murder me? Thou gaoler, thou,
I am thy prisoner: wilt thou suffer them
To make a rescue?
Masters, let him go
He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.
Go bind this man, for he is frantic too.
What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himself?
He is my prisoner: if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be required of me.
I will discharge thee ere I go from thee:
Bear me forthwith unto his creditor,
And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.
Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd
Home to my house. O most unhappy day!
O most unhappy strumpet!
Master, I am here entered in bond for you.
Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost thou mad me?
Will you be bound for nothing? be mad, good master:
cry 'The devil!'
God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk!
Go bear him hence. Sister, go you with me.