'Hang up thy mistress! I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!' Quoth who? Quoth my master: 'I know,' quoth he, 'no house, no wife, no mistress.' So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. Go back again, and be new beaten home? For God's sake, send some other messenger. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. And he will bless that cross with other beating: Between you I shall have a holy head. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home. Am I so round with you as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. Fie, how impatience loureth in your face! His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not my fault: he's master of my state: What ruins are in me that can be found, By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale. Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence! Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, Or else what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promised me a chain; Would that alone, alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still, That others touch, and often touching will Wear gold: and no man that hath a name, By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out By computation and mine host's report. I could not speak with