Act III. Scene II.

 Dromio S.  Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am I your man? am I myself?
 
I am an ass, I am a woman's man and besides myself.
 
 Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.
 
 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.  
 
 A very reverent body; aye, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, 'Sir-reverence.' I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.
 
 Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter; if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.  
 
 Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept: for why she sweats; a man may go over shoes in the grime of it.
 
No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it.
 
Nell, sir; but her name and three quarters,—that is, an ell and three quarters,—will not measure her from hip to hip.
 
 No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her.
 
 Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found it out by the bogs.
 
 I found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm of the hand.
 
 In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her heir.
 
 I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them: but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it.
 
 Faith, I saw not; but I felt it hot in her breath.

 O, sir! upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose.

 O, sir! I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; call'd me Dromio; swore I was assured to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch.
And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith and my heart of steel,
She had transform'd me to a curtal dog and made me turn i' the wheel.

 As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife.

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Mm I love my wife :)

Nice choice of monologue, by the way.

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We are the change that we seek.
-Barack Obama.