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How ill agrees it with your gravity
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood!
Be it my wrong you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme:
What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy.
LUCIANA
Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the fairy land: O spite of spites!
We talk with goblins, owls and sprites:
If we obey them not, this will ensue,
They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
LUCIANA
Why pratest thou to thyself and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
I am transformed, master, am I not?
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
I think thou art in mind, and so am I.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
Thou hast thine own form.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
No, I am an ape.
LUCIANA
If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an ass.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
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