Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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E. Dro. The Comedie of Errors.
E. Dro. For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate:
E. Dro. Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke,
E. Dro. And strike you home without a messenger
Ant. Ant.
Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season,
Ant. Reserue them till a merrier houre then this:
Ant. Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee?
E. Dro. E. Dro.
E. Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me?
Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes,
Ant. And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
E. Dro. My charge was but to fetch you frófrom the Mart
E. Dro. Home to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner;
E. Dro. My Mistris and her sister staies for you.
Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me,
Ant. In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie;