The Comedy of Errors
I am transformed, master, am not I?
I think thou art in mind, and so am I. (2.2.195)
O Villain, thou hast stol'n both mine
office and my name!
The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. (3.1.43)
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit,
Smoth'red 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 pow'r 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. (3.2.33)