_Dro. S._ Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found it out by the bogs. _Ant. S._ Where Scotland? _Dro. S._ I found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm of the hand. 120 _Ant. S._ Where France? _Dro. S._ In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her heir. _Ant. S._ Where England? _Dro. S._ I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find 125 no whiteness in them; but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. _Ant. S._ Where Spain? _Dro. S._ Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her breath. 130 _Ant. S._ Where America, the Indies? _Dro. S._ Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose. 135 _Ant. S._ Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? _Dro. S._ Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; called me Dromio; swore I was assured to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the 140 mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, She had transform’d me to a curtal dog, and made me turn i’ the wheel. _Ant. S._ Go hie thee presently, post to the road:-- 145 An if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town to-night:-- If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk till thou return to me. If every one knows us, and we know none, 150 ’Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. _Dro. S._ As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife. [_Exit._ _Ant. S._ There’s none but witches do inhabit here; And therefore ’tis high time that I were hence. 155 She that doth call me husband, even my soul Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, Possess’d with such a gentle sovereign grace, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Hath almost made me traitor to myself: 160 But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song. _Enter ANGELO with the chain._ _Ang._ Master Antipholus,-- _Ant. S._ Ay, that’s my name. _Ang._ I know it well, sir:--lo, here is the chain. I thought to have ta’en you at the Porpentine: 165 The chain unfinish’d made me stay thus long. _Ant. S._ What is your will that I shall do with this? _Ang._ What please yourself, sir: I have made it for you. _Ant. S._ Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not.