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Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart,

My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim,

My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim.

Luc.

All this my sister is, or else should be.

S. Ant.

Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee:

Thee will I love and with thee lead my life;

Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife.

Give me thy hand.

Luc.

O soft, sir, hold you still;

I’ll fetch my sister to get her good will.

Exit.

Enter Dromio [of] Syracusa.

S. Ant. Why, how now, Dromio, where run’st thou so fast?

S. Dro. Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself?

S. Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.

S. Dro. I am an ass, I am a woman’s man, and besides myself.

S. Ant. What woman’s man, and how besides thyself?

S. Dro. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman: one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.

S. Ant. What claim lays she to thee?

S. Dro. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse, and she would have me as a beast; not that, I being a beast, she would have me, but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me.