_Ant. S._ I am not in a sportive humour now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? We being strangers here, how darest thou trust 60 So great a charge from thine own custody? _Dro. E._ I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner: I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed, For she will score your fault upon my pate. 65 Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger. _Ant. S._ Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season; Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? 70 _Dro. E._ To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me. _Ant. S._ Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge. _Dro. E._ My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phœnix, sir, to dinner: 75 My mistress and her sister stays for you. _Ant. S._ Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow’d my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undisposed: 80 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? _Dro. E._ I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders; But not a thousand marks between you both. If I should pay your worship those again, 85 Perchance you will not bear them patiently. _Ant. S._ Thy mistress’ marks? what mistress, slave, hast thou? _Dro. E._ Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phœnix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. 90 _Ant. S._ What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. _Dro. E._ What mean you, sir? for God’s sake, hold your hands! Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels. [_Exit._ _Ant. S._ Upon my life, by some device or other 95 The villain is o’er-raught of all my money. They say this town is full of cozenage; As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind. Soul-killing witches that deform the body, 100 Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many such-like liberties of sin: If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. I’ll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave: I greatly fear my money is not safe. [_Exit._ 105 NOTES: I, 2.