Enter Dromio, Siracusia.
Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so
fast?
S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I
your man? Am I my selfe?
Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art
thy selfe
Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides
my selfe
Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy
selfe?
Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman:
One that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will
haue me
Anti. What claime laies she to thee? Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing a beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie beastly creature layes claime to me
Anti. What is she? Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage
Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage? Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease, and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne a weeke longer then the whole World
Anti. What complexion is she of?
Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like
so cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes
in the grime of it
Anti. That's a fault that water will mend
Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not
do it