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Of you, my sons, and till this present hour

My heavy burthen [ne’er] delivered.

The Duke, my husband, and my children both,

And you the calendars of their nativity,

Go to a gossips’ feast, and go with me—

After so long grief, such nativity!

Duke.

With all my heart, I’ll gossip at this feast.

Exeunt omnes. Manent the two Dromios and two brothers.

S. Dro.

Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?

E. Ant.

Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark’d?

S. Dro.

Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.

S. Ant.

He speaks to me. I am your master, Dromio.

Come go with us, we’ll look to that anon.

Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him.

Exit [with Antipholus of Ephesus].

S. Dro.

There is a fat friend at your master’s house,

That kitchen’d me for you to-day at dinner:

She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

E. Dro.

Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother:

I see by you I am a sweet-fac’d youth.

Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

S. Dro.

Not I, sir, you are my elder.