Source
Arden 2 | Foakes, R.A. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 1968

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die;
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Thought Counts
Arden 2 | 1968

Short: 2 (3)
Medium: 3
Long: 1
Total: 6 (7)

End-stopped: 6
Mid-line: (1)

Periods: 4
Exclamations: 0
Questions: 2 (3)
Unfinished: 0

Notes
Arden 2 | 1968

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die;
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Given Circumstances
Arden 2 | 1968

Short: 5
Medium: 6
Long: 0
Total: 11

End-stopped: 11
Mid-line: 0

Periods: 9
Exclamations: 0
Questions: 2
Unfinished: 0

Thoughts
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
1. Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
2. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
3. Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
4. Are you a god? (4b) would you create me new?
5. Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
6. But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die;
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Line Analysis
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,      11w or 11s
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;                            10R | 10        (nor)
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not      11w or 11s   (less)
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.            10R | 10    (earth’s)
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;            10   (teach, dear)
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,                              10
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,                        10     (smother’d)
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.                         10R
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you                10R
To make it wander in an unknown field?                     10R
Are you a god? would you create me new?                 10R
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.           10R | 11   (pow’r)
But if that I am I, then well I know                               10R
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,                    10R
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;                   10R | 10        (nor)
Far more, far more to you do I decline;                     10R
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note          10R
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;               10R
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;                      10 | 10R     (sing)
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,        10 | 10R     (spread)
And as a bed I’ll take thee and there lie,                 10R
And in that glorious supposition think                       10R | 11 or 12  (glori’us)
He gains by death that hath such means to die.           10R
Let Love, being light, be drownèd if she sink.              10R       (be’ng)

Phrasing and Tempo
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – <c> what your name is else I know not,  | slowly?
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, <c> more than earth divine.   pause
Teach me, <c> dear creature, <c> how to think <c> and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, <c> feeble, <c> shallow, <c> weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.    pause
Against my soul’s pure truth <c> why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?      pause     carefully
Are you a god? <c, quickly> would you create me new?   pause  slowly |
Transform me then, <c> and to your power I’ll yield.   pause   carefully
But if that I am I, <c> then well I know     slowly
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.   pause
Far more, <c> far more to you do I decline.   pause
O, <c> train me not, <c> sweet mermaid, <c> with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.  pause
Sing, <c> siren, <c> for thyself and I will dote.  pause
Spread o’er the silver waves <c> thy golden hairs,
And as a bed <c> I’ll take them <c> and there lie,     slowly
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death <c> that hath such means to die.  pause   slowly
Let Love, <c> being light, <c> be drowned if she sink.   slowly?

Alliteration
Arden 2 | 1968

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Assonance and Rhyme
Arden 2 | 1968

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Consonance and Onomatopoeia
Arden 2 | 1968

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Rhetoric
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –                           (parenthesis)
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not      (comparison, this and that)
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.            (antithesis, imagery)
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:           (this and that, parenthesis)
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,                     (list, parenthesis)
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?                 (imagery, metaphor, rhetorical question?)
Are you a god? would you create me new?           (rhetorical question?)
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,             (imagery)
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.               (antithesis, repetition)
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note       (metaphor, imagery)
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.             (imagery, hyperbole)
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.                     (imagery, metaphor)
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,        (imagery, metaphor)
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,                 (imagery, metaphor or simile)
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.      (antithesis)
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.        (metaphor, personification, imagery)

Before and After
Oxford | 2003

SCENE II. The same.

Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse

LUCIANA
And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband’s office? shall, Antipholus.
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth’s sake use her with more kindness:
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness:
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator;
Look sweet, be fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thief brags of his own attaint?
‘Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed
And let her read it in thy looks at board:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill d eeds are doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
We in your motion turn and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:
‘Tis holy sport to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Definitions
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Translation
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine;
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;
Far more, far more to you do I decline;
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Source
Oxford | Charles Whitworth. London: Oxford University Press, 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Thought Counts
Oxford | 2003

Short: 5
Medium: 6
Long: 0
Total: 11

End-stopped: 11
Mid-line: 0

Periods: 9
Exclamations: 0
Questions: 2
Unfinished: 0

Thoughts
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
1. Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
2. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
3. Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
4. Are you a god? would you create me new?
5. Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
6. But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
7. Far more, far more to you do I decline.
8. O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
9. Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
10. Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
11. Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Line Analysis
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,      11w or 11s
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –                          10R | 10
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not      11w or 11s
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.            10R | 10
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:           10
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,                              10
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,                        10
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.                         10R
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you                10R
To make it wander in an unknown field?                     10R
Are you a god? would you create me new?                 10R
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.           10R | 11
But if that I am I, then well I know                               10R
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,                    10R
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.                   10R | 10
Far more, far more to you do I decline.                     10R
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note          10R
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.               10R
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.                      10 | 10R
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,        10 | 10R
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,                 10R
And in that glorious supposition think                       10R | 11 or 12
He gains by death that hath such means to die.           10R
Let Love, being light, be drownèd if she sink.              10R

Phrasing and Tempo
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – <c> what your name is else I know not,  | slowly?
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, <c> more than earth divine.   pause
Teach me, <c> dear creature, <c> how to think <c> and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, <c> feeble, <c> shallow, <c> weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.    pause
Against my soul’s pure truth <c> why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?      pause     carefully
Are you a god? <c, quickly> would you create me new?   pause  slowly |
Transform me then, <c> and to your power I’ll yield.   pause   carefully
But if that I am I, <c> then well I know     slowly
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.   pause
Far more, <c> far more to you do I decline.   pause
O, <c> train me not, <c> sweet mermaid, <c> with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.  pause
Sing, <c> siren, <c> for thyself and I will dote.  pause
Spread o’er the silver waves <c> thy golden hairs,
And as a bed <c> I’ll take them <c> and there lie,     slowly
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death <c> that hath such means to die.  pause   slowly
Let Love, <c> being light, <c> be drowned if she sink.   slowly?

Sounds
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Rhetoric
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –                           (parenthesis)
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not      (comparison, this and that)
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.            (antithesis, imagery)
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:           (this and that, parenthesis)
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,                     (list, parenthesis)
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?                 (imagery, metaphor, rhetorical question?)
Are you a god? would you create me new?           (rhetorical question?)
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,             (imagery)
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.               (antithesis, repetition)
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note       (metaphor, imagery)
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.             (imagery, hyperbole)
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.                     (imagery, metaphor)
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,        (imagery, metaphor)
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,                 (imagery, metaphor or simile)
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.      (antithesis)
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.        (metaphor, personification, imagery)

Before and After
Oxford | 2003

SCENE II. The same.

Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse

LUCIANA
And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband’s office? shall, Antipholus.
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth’s sake use her with more kindness:
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness:
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator;
Look sweet, be fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thief brags of his own attaint?
‘Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed
And let her read it in thy looks at board:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill d eeds are doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
We in your motion turn and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:
‘Tis holy sport to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Definitions
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.

Translation
Oxford | 2003

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Sweet mistress – what your name is else I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine –
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote.
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die.
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink.