{"collection":"sks","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/sks/ff/coe.htm","path":"sks/ff/coe.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/sks/ff/coe.htm","text":"Actus primus, Scena prima.\nEnter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, Iaylor,\nand\nother attendants.\nMarchant. Proceed Solinus to procure my fall,\nAnd by the doome of death end woes and all\nDuke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more.\nI am not partiall to infringe our Lawes;\nThe enmity and discord which of late\nSprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke,\nTo Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen,\nWho wanting gilders to redeeme their liues,\nHaue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds,\nExcludes all pitty from our threatning lookes:\nFor since the mortall and intestine iarres\nTwixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,\nIt hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed,\nBoth by the Siracusians and our selues,\nTo admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes:\nNay more, if any borne at Ephesus\nBe seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres:\nAgaine, if any Siracusian borne\nCome to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies:\nHis goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose,\nVnlesse a thousand markes be leuied\nTo quit the penalty, and to ransome him:\nThy substance, valued at the highest rate,\nCannot amount vnto a hundred Markes,\nTherefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die\nMer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done,\nMy woes end likewise with the euening Sonne\nDuk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause\nWhy thou departedst from thy natiue home?\nAnd for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus\nMer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd,\nThen I to speake my griefes vnspeakeable:\nYet that the world may witnesse that my end\nWas wrought by nature, not by vile offence,\nIle vtter what my sorrow giues me leaue.\nIn Syracusa was I borne, and wedde\nVnto a woman, happy but for me,\nAnd by me; had not our hap beene bad:\nWith her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast\nBy prosperous voyages I often made\nTo Epidamium, till my factors death,\nAnd he great care of goods at randone left,\nDrew me from kinde embracements of my spouse;\nFrom whom my absence was not sixe moneths olde,\nBefore her selfe (almost at fainting vnder\nThe pleasing punishment that women beare)\nHad made prouision for her following me,\nAnd soone, and safe, arriued where I was:\nThere had she not beene long, but she became\nA ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes:\nAnd, which was strange, the one so like the other,\nAs could not be distinguish'd but by names.\nThat very howre, and in the selfe-same Inne,\nA meane woman was deliuered\nOf such a burthen Male, twins both alike:\nThose, for their parents were exceeding poore,\nI bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes.\nMy wife, not meanely prowd of two such boyes,\nMade daily motions for our home returne:\nVnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord.\nA league from Epidamium had we saild\nBefore the alwaies winde-obeying deepe\nGaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme:\nBut longer did we not retaine much hope;\nFor what obscured light the heauens did grant,\nDid but conuay vnto our fearefull mindes\nA doubtfull warrant of immediate death,\nWhich though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd,\nYet the incessant weepings of my wife,\nWeeping before for what she saw must come,\nAnd pitteous playnings of the prettie babes\nThat mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare,\nForst me to seeke delayes for them and me,\nAnd this it was: (for other meanes was none)\nThe Sailors sought for safety by our boate,\nAnd left the ship then sinking ripe to vs.\nMy wife, more carefull for the latter borne,\nHad fastned him vnto a small spare Mast,\nSuch as sea-faring men prouide for stormes:\nTo him one of the other twins was bound,\nWhil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other.\nThe children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,\nFixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,\nFastned our selues at eyther end the mast,\nAnd floating straight, obedient to the streame,\nWas carried towards Corinth, as we thought.\nAt length the sonne gazing vpon the earth,\nDisperst those vapours that offended vs,\nAnd by the benefit of his wished light\nThe seas waxt calme, and we discouered\nTwo shippes from farre, making amaine to vs:\nOf Corinth that, of Epidarus this,\nBut ere they came, oh let me say no more,\nGather the sequell by that went before\nDuk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so,\nFor we may pitty, though not pardon thee\nMerch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now\nWorthily tearm'd them mercilesse to vs:\nFor ere the ships could meet by twice fiue leagues,\nWe were encountred by a mighty rocke,\nWhich being violently borne vp,\nOur helpefull ship was splitted in the midst;\nSo that in this vniust diuorce of vs,\nFortune had left to both of vs alike,\nWhat to delight in, what to sorrow for,\nHer part, poore soule, seeming as burdened\nWith lesser waight, but not with lesser woe,\nWas carried with more speed before the winde,\nAnd in our sight they three were taken vp\nBy Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.\nAt length another ship had seiz'd on vs,\nAnd knowing whom it was their hap to saue,\nGaue healthfull welcome to their ship-wrackt guests,\nAnd would haue reft the Fishers of their prey,\nHad not their backe beene very slow of saile;\nAnd therefore homeward did they bend their course.\nThus haue you heard me seuer'd from my blisse,\nThat by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,\nTo tell sad stories of my owne mishaps\nDuke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,\nDoe me the fauour to dilate at full,\nWhat haue befalne of them and they till now\nMerch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care,\nAt eighteene yeeres became inquisitiue\nAfter his brother; and importun'd me\nThat his attendant, so his case was like,\nReft of his brother, but retain'd his name,\nMight beare him company in the quest of him:\nWhom whil'st I laboured of a loue to see,\nI hazarded the losse of whom I lou'd.\nFiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece,\nRoming cleane through the bounds of Asia,\nAnd coasting homeward, came to Ephesus:\nHopelesse to finde, yet loth to leaue vnsought\nOr that, or any place that harbours men:\nBut heere must end the story of my life,\nAnd happy were I in my timelie death,\nCould all my trauells warrant me they liue\nDuke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt\nTo beare the extremitie of dire mishap:\nNow trust me, were it not against our Lawes,\nAgainst my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,\nWhich Princes would they may not disanull,\nMy soule should sue as aduocate for thee:\nBut though thou art adiudged to the death,\nAnd passed sentence may not be recal'd\nBut to our honours great disparagement:\nYet will I fauour thee in what I can;\nTherefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day\nTo seeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe,\nTry all the friends thou hast in Ephesus,\nBeg thou, or borrow, to make vp the summe,\nAnd liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die:\nIaylor, take him to thy custodie\nIaylor. I will my Lord\nMerch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend,\nBut to procrastinate his liuelesse end.\nExeunt.\nEnter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio.\nMer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium,\nLest that your goods too soone be confiscate:\nThis very day a Syracusian Marchant\nIs apprehended for a riuall here,\nAnd not being able to buy out his life,\nAccording to the statute of the towne,\nDies ere the wearie sunne set in the West:\nThere is your monie that I had to keepe\nAnt. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host,\nAnd stay there Dromio, till I come to thee;\nWithin this houre it will be dinner time,\nTill that Ile view the manners of the towne,\nPeruse the traders, gaze vpon the buildings,\nAnd then returne and sleepe within mine Inne,\nFor with long trauaile I am stiffe and wearie.\nGet thee away\nDro. Many a man would take you at your word,\nAnd goe indeede, hauing so good a meane.\nExit Dromio.\nAnt. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft,\nWhen I am dull with care and melancholly,\nLightens my humour with his merry iests:\nWhat will you walke with me about the towne,\nAnd then goe to my Inne and dine with me?\nE.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants,\nOf whom I hope to make much benefit:\nI craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke,\nPlease you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart,\nAnd afterward consort you till bed time:\nMy present businesse cals me from you now\nAnt. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe,\nAnd wander vp and downe to view the Citie\nE.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.\nExeunt.\nAnt. He that commends me to mine owne content,\nCommends me to the thing I cannot get:\nI to the world am like a drop of water,\nThat in the Ocean seekes another drop,\nWho falling there to finde his fellow forth,\n(Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe.\nSo I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,\nIn quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.\nEnter Dromio of Ephesus.\nHere comes the almanacke of my true date:\nWhat now? How chance thou art return'd so soone\nE.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late:\nThe Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit;\nThe clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell:\nMy Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:\nShe is so hot because the meate is colde:\nThe meate is colde, because you come not home:\nYou come not home, because you haue no stomacke:\nYou haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast:\nBut we that know what 'tis to fast and pray,\nAre penitent for your default to day\nAnt. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray?\nWhere haue you left the mony that I gaue you\nE.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last,\nTo pay the Sadler for my Mistris crupper:\nThe Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not\nAnt. I am not in a sportiue humor now:\nTell me, and dally not, where is the monie?\nWe being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust\nSo great a charge from thine owne custodie\nE.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner:\nI from my Mistris come to you in post:\nIf I returne I shall be post indeede.\nFor she will scoure your fault vpon my pate:\nMe thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke,\nAnd strike you home without a messenger\nAnt. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season,\nReserue them till a merrier houre then this:\nWhere is the gold I gaue in charge to thee?\nE.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me?\nAnt. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes,\nAnd tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge\nE.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart\nHome to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner;\nMy Mistris and her sister staies for you\nAnt. Now as I am a Christian answer me,\nIn what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie;\nOr I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours\nThat stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd:\nWhere is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me?\nE.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate:\nSome of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders:\nBut not a thousand markes betweene you both.\nIf I should pay your worship those againe,\nPerchance you will not beare them patiently\nAnt. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou?\nE.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix;\nShe that doth fast till you come home to dinner:\nAnd praies that you will hie you home to dinner\nAnt. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face\nBeing forbid? There take you that sir knaue\nE.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands:\nNay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.\nExeunt. Dromio Ep.\nAnt. Vpon my life by some deuise or other,\nThe villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie.\nThey say this towne is full of cosenage:\nAs nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie:\nDarke working Sorcerers that change the minde:\nSoule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie:\nDisguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes;\nAnd manie such like liberties of sinne:\nIf it proue so, I will be gone the sooner:\nIle to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue,\nI greatly feare my monie is not safe.\nEnter.\nActus Secundus.\nEnter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her\nSister.\nAdr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd,\nThat in such haste I sent to seeke his Master?\nSure Luciana it is two a clocke\nLuc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him,\nAnd from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:\nGood Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;\nA man is Master of his libertie:\nTime is their Master, and when they see time,\nThey'll goe or come; if so, be patient Sister\nAdr. Why should their libertie then ours be more?\nLuc. Because their businesse still lies out adore\nAdr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus\nLuc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will\nAdr. There's none but asses will be bridled so\nLuc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe:\nThere's nothing situate vnder heauens eye,\nBut hath his bound in earth, in sea, in skie.\nThe beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowles\nAre their males subiects, and at their controules:\nMan more diuine, the Master of all these,\nLord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas,\nIndued with intellectuall sence and soules,\nOf more preheminence then fish and fowles,\nAre masters to their females, and their Lords:\nThen let your will attend on their accords\nAdri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed\nLuci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed\nAdr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway\nLuc. Ere I learne loue, Ile practise to obey\nAdr. How if your husband start some other where?\nLuc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare\nAdr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause,\nThey can be meeke, that haue no other cause:\nA wretched soule bruis'd with aduersitie,\nWe bid be quiet when we heare it crie.\nBut were we burdned with like waight of paine,\nAs much, or more, we should our selues complaine:\nSo thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee,\nWith vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me;\nBut if thou liue to see like right bereft,\nThis foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left\nLuci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie:\nHeere comes your man, now is your husband nie.\nEnter Dromio Eph.\nAdr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand?\nE.Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mee, and that my\ntwo eares can witnesse\nAdr. Say, didst thou speake with him? knowst thou\nhis minde?\nE.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare,\nBeshrew his hand, I scarce could vnderstand it\nLuc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele\nhis meaning\nE.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well\nfeele his blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could\nscarce vnderstand them\nAdri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home?\nIt seemes he hath great care to please his wife\nE.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad\nAdri. Horne mad, thou villaine?\nE.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,\nBut sure he is starke mad:\nWhen I desir'd him to come home to dinner,\nHe ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:\n'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:\nYour meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:\nWill you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;\nWhere is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine?\nThe Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:\nMy mistresse, sir, quoth I: hang vp thy Mistresse:\nI know not thy mistresse, out on thy mistresse\nLuci. Quoth who?\nE.Dr. Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house,\nno wife, no mistresse: so that my arrant due vnto my\ntongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders:\nfor in conclusion, he did beat me there\nAdri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home\nDro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home?\nFor Gods sake send some other messenger\nAdri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse\nDro. And he will blesse y crosse with other beating:\nBetweene you, I shall haue a holy head\nAdri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home\nDro. Am I so round with you, as you with me,\nThat like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus:\nYou spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither,\nIf I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather\nLuci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face\nAdri. His company must do his minions grace,\nWhil'st I at home starue for a merrie looke:\nHath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke\nFrom my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.\nAre my discourses dull? Barren my wit,\nIf voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd,\nVnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard.\nDoe their gay vestments his affections baite?\nThat's not my fault, hee's master of my state.\nWhat ruines are in me that can be found,\nBy him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground\nOf my defeatures. My decayed faire,\nA sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire.\nBut, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,\nAnd feedes from home; poore I am but his stale\nLuci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence\nAd. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence:\nI know his eye doth homage other-where,\nOr else, what lets it but he would be here?\nSister, you know he promis'd me a chaine,\nWould that alone, a loue he would detaine,\nSo he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:\nI see the Iewell best enamaled\nWill loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still\nThat others touch, and often touching will,\nWhere gold and no man that hath a name,\nBy falshood and corruption doth it shame:\nSince that my beautie cannot please his eie,\nIle weepe (what's left away) and weeping die\nLuci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie?\nEnter.\nEnter Antipholis Errotis.\nAnt. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp\nSafe at the Centaur, and the heedfull slaue\nIs wandred forth in care to seeke me out\nBy computation and mine hosts report.\nI could not speake with Dromio, since at first\nI sent him from the Mart? see here he comes.\nEnter Dromio Siracusia.\nHow now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd?\nAs you loue stroakes, so iest with me againe:\nYou know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold?\nYour Mistresse sent to haue me home to dinner?\nMy house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,\nThat thus so madlie thou did didst answere me?\nS.Dro. What answer sir? when spake I such a word?\nE.Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halfe an howre since\nS.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence\nHome to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me\nAnt. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit,\nAnd toldst me of a Mistresse, and a dinner,\nFor which I hope thou feltst I was displeas'd\nS.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine,\nWhat meanes this iest, I pray you Master tell me?\nAnt. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me in the teeth?\nThinkst y I iest? hold, take thou that, & that.\nBeats Dro.\nS.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest,\nVpon what bargaine do you giue it me?\nAntiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes\nDoe vse you for my foole, and chat with you,\nYour sawcinesse will iest vpon my loue,\nAnd make a Common of my serious howres,\nWhen the sunne shines, let foolish gnats make sport,\nBut creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames:\nIf you will iest with me, know my aspect,\nAnd fashion your demeanor to my lookes,\nOr I will beat this method in your sconce\nS.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue battering,\nI had rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows\nlong, I must get a sconce for my head, and Insconce it\nto, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray\nsir, why am I beaten?\nAnt. Dost thou not know?\nS.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten\nAnt. Shall I tell you why?\nS.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why\nhath a wherefore\nAnt. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore,\nfor vrging it the second time to me\nS.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of\nseason, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither\nrime nor reason. Well sir, I thanke you\nAnt. Thanke me sir, for what?\nS.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me\nfor nothing\nAnt. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing\nfor something. But say sir, is it dinner time?\nS.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue\nAnt. In good time sir: what's that?\nS.Dro. Basting\nAnt. Well sir, then 'twill be drie\nS.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it\nAnt. Your reason?\nS.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me\nanother drie basting\nAnt. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a\ntime for all things\nS.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so\nchollericke\nAnti. By what rule sir?\nS.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald\npate of Father time himselfe\nAnt. Let's heare it\nS.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire\nthat growes bald by nature\nAnt. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie?\nS.Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer\nthe lost haire of another man\nAnt. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as\nit is) so plentifull an excrement?\nS.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on\nbeasts, and what he hath scanted them in haire, hee hath\ngiuen them in wit\nAnt. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire\nthen wit\nS.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose\nhis haire\nAnt. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers\nwithout wit\nS.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth\nit in a kinde of iollitie\nAn. For what reason\nS.Dro. For two, and sound ones to\nAn. Nay not sound I pray you\nS.Dro. Sure ones then\nAn. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing\nS.Dro. Certaine ones then\nAn. Name them\nS.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in\ntrying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in\nhis porrage\nAn. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no\ntime for all things\nS.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer\nhaire lost by Nature\nAn. But your reason was not substantiall, why there\nis no time to recouer\nS.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and\ntherefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers\nAn. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft,\nwho wafts vs yonder.\nEnter Adriana and Luciana.\nAdri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne,\nSome other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects:\nI am not Adriana, nor thy wife.\nThe time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow,\nThat neuer words were musicke to thine eare,\nThat neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye,\nThat neuer touch well welcome to thy hand,\nThat neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste,\nVnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.\nHow comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,\nThat thou art then estranged from thy selfe?\nThy selfe I call it, being strange to me:\nThat vndiuidable Incorporate\nAm better then thy deere selfes better part.\nAh doe not teare away thy selfe from me;\nFor know my loue: as easie maist thou fall\nA drop of water in the breaking gulfe,\nAnd take vnmingled thence that drop againe\nWithout addition or diminishing,\nAs take from me thy selfe, and not me too.\nHow deerely would it touch thee to the quicke,\nShouldst thou but heare I were licencious?\nAnd that this body consecrate to thee,\nBy Ruffian Lust should be contaminate?\nWouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me,\nAnd hurle the name of husband in my face,\nAnd teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow,\nAnd from my false hand cut the wedding ring,\nAnd breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow?\nI know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.\nI am possest with an adulterate blot,\nMy bloud is mingled with the crime of lust:\nFor if we two be one, and thou play false,\nI doe digest the poison of thy flesh,\nBeing strumpeted by thy contagion:\nKeepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,\nI liue distain'd, thou vndishonoured\nAntip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not:\nIn Ephesus I am but two houres old,\nAs strange vnto your towne, as to your talke,\nWho euery word by all my wit being scan'd,\nWants wit in all, one word to vnderstand\nLuci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you:\nWhen were you wont to vse my sister thus?\nShe sent for you by Dromio home to dinner\nAnt. By Dromio?\nDrom. By me\nAdr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him.\nThat he did buffet thee, and in his blowes,\nDenied my house for his, me for his wife\nAnt. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman:\nWhat is the course and drift of your compact?\nS.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time\nAnt. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words,\nDidst thou deliuer to me on the Mart\nS.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life\nAnt. How can she thus then call vs by our names?\nVnlesse it be by inspiration\nAdri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie,\nTo counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue,\nAbetting him to thwart me in my moode;\nBe it my wrong, you are from me exempt,\nBut wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.\nCome I will fasten on this sleeue of thine:\nThou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine:\nWhose weaknesse married to thy stranger state,\nMakes me with thy strength to communicate:\nIf ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse,\nVsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse,\nWho all for want of pruning, with intrusion,\nInfect thy sap, and liue on thy confusion\nAnt. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her\ntheame;\nWhat, was I married to her in my dreame?\nOr sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?\nWhat error driues our eies and eares amisse?\nVntill I know this sure vncertaintie,\nIle entertaine the free'd fallacie\nLuc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner\nS.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner.\nThis is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights,\nWe talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights;\nIf we obay them not, this will insue:\nThey'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew\nLuc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not?\nDromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot\nS.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not?\nAnt. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I\nS.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape\nAnt. Thou hast thine owne forme\nS.Dro. No, I am an Ape\nLuc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse\nS.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse.\n'Tis so, I am an Asse, else it could neuer be,\nBut I should know her as well as she knowes me\nAdr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole,\nTo put the finger in the eie and weepe;\nWhil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne:\nCome sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate:\nHusband Ile dine aboue with you to day,\nAnd shriue you of a thousand idle prankes:\nSirra, if any aske you for your Master,\nSay he dines forth, and let no creature enter:\nCome sister, Dromio play the Porter well\nAnt. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell?\nSleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde:\nKnowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde:\nIle say as they say, and perseuer so:\nAnd in this mist at all aduentures go\nS.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?\nAdr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate\nLuc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.\nActus Tertius. Scena Prima.\nEnter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the\nGoldsmith, and\nBalthaser the Merchant.\nE.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all,\nMy wife is shrewish when I keepe not howres;\nSay that I lingerd with you at your shop\nTo see the making of her Carkanet,\nAnd that to morrow you will bring it home.\nBut here's a villaine that would face me downe\nHe met me on the Mart, and that I beat him,\nAnd charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold,\nAnd that I did denie my wife and house;\nThou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?\nE.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know,\nThat you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show;\nIf y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue were ink,\nYour owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke\nE.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse\nE.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare\nBy the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare,\nI should kicke being kickt, and being at that passe,\nYou would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an asse\nE.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer\nMay answer my good will, and your good welcom here\nBal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer\nE.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,\nA table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish\nBal. Good meat sir is co[m]mon that euery churle affords\nAnti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing\nbut words\nBal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a merrie\nfeast\nAnti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest:\nBut though my cates be meane, take them in good part,\nBetter cheere may you haue, but not with better hart.\nBut soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs in\nE.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn\nS.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idiot,\nPatch,\nEither get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch:\nDost thou coniure for wenches, that y calst for such store,\nWhen one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore\nE.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master\nstayes in the street\nS.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee\ncatch cold on's feet\nE.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore\nS.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell\nme wherefore\nAnt. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to\nday\nS.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe\nwhen you may\nAnti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the\nhowse I owe?\nS.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is\nDromio\nE.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office\nand my name,\nThe one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame:\nIf thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place,\nThou wouldst haue chang'd thy face for a name, or thy\nname for an asse.\nEnter Luce.\nLuce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those\nat the gate?\nE.Dro. Let my Master in Luce\nLuce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your\nMaster\nE.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Prouerbe,\nShall I set in my staffe\nLuce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can\nyou tell?\nS.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answer'd\nhim well\nAnti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I\nhope?\nLuce. I thought to haue askt you\nS.Dro. And you said no\nE.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow\nfor blow\nAnti. Thou baggage let me in\nLuce. Can you tell for whose sake?\nE.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard\nLuce. Let him knocke till it ake\nAnti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore\ndowne\nLuce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the\ntowne?\nEnter Adriana.\nAdr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noise?\nS.Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with vnruly\nboies\nAnti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come\nbefore\nAdri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore\nE.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold\ngoe sore\nAngelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we\nwould faine haue either\nBaltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part\nwith neither\nE.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them\nwelcome hither\nAnti. There is something in the winde, that we cannot\nget in\nE.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments\nwere thin.\nYour cake here is warme within: you stand here in the\ncold.\nIt would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought\nand sold\nAnt. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate\nS.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your\nknaues pate\nE.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and\nwords are but winde:\nI and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde\nS.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee\nhinde\nE.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let\nme in\nS.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue\nno fin\nAnt. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow\nE.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so;\nFor a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether,\nIf a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together\nAnt. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow\nBalth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so,\nHeerein you warre against your reputation,\nAnd draw within the compasse of suspect\nTh' vnuiolated honor of your wife.\nOnce this your long experience of your wisedome,\nHer sober vertue, yeares, and modestie,\nPlead on your part some cause to you vnknowne;\nAnd doubt not sir, but she will well excuse\nWhy at this time the dores are made against you.\nBe rul'd by me, depart in patience,\nAnd let vs to the Tyger all to dinner,\nAnd about euening come your selfe alone,\nTo know the reason of this strange restraint:\nIf by strong hand you offer to breake in\nNow in the stirring passage of the day,\nA vulgar comment will be made of it;\nAnd that supposed by the common rowt\nAgainst your yet vngalled estimation,\nThat may with foule intrusion enter in,\nAnd dwell vpon your graue when you are dead;\nFor slander liues vpon succession:\nFor euer hows'd, where it gets possession\nAnti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet,\nAnd in despight of mirth meane to be merrie:\nI know a wench of excellent discourse,\nPrettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle;\nThere will we dine: this woman that I meane\nMy wife (but I protest without desert)\nHath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:\nTo her will we to dinner, get you home\nAnd fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made,\nBring it I pray you to the Porpentine,\nFor there's the house: That chaine will I bestow\n(Be it for nothing but to spight my wife)\nVpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste:\nSince mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me,\nIle knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me\nAng. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence\nAnti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence.\nExeunt.\nEnter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia.\nIulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot\nA husbands office? shall Antipholus\nEuen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?\nShall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?\nIf you did wed my sister for her wealth,\nThen for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse:\nOr if you like else-where doe it by stealth,\nMuffle your false loue with some shew of blindnesse:\nLet not my sister read it in your eye:\nBe not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator:\nLooke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie:\nApparell vice like vertues harbenger:\nBeare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted,\nTeach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint,\nBe secret false: what need she be acquainted?\nWhat simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine?\n'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,\nAnd let her read it in thy lookes at boord:\nShame hath a bastard fame, well managed,\nIll deeds is doubled with an euill word:\nAlas poore women, make vs not beleeue\n(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs,\nThough others haue the arme, shew vs the sleeue:\nWe in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.\nThen gentle brother get you in againe;\nComfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise;\n'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine,\nWhen the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife\nS.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I\nknow not;\nNor by what wonder you do hit of mine:\nLesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not,\nThen our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.\nTeach me deere creature how to thinke and speake:\nLay open to my earthie grosse conceit:\nSmothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake,\nThe foulded meaning of your words deceit:\nAgainst my soules pure truth, why labour you,\nTo make it wander in an vnknowne field?\nAre you a god? would you create me new?\nTransforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld.\nBut if that I am I, then well I know,\nYour weeping sister is no wife of mine,\nNor to her bed no homage doe I owe:\nFarre more, farre more, to you doe I decline:\nOh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note,\nTo drowne me in thy sister floud of teares:\nSing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote:\nSpread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires;\nAnd as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie:\nAnd in that glorious supposition thinke,\nHe gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die:\nLet Loue, being light, be drowned if she sinke\nLuc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so?\nAnt. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know\nLuc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie\nAnt. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by\nLuc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere\nyour sight\nAnt. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night\nLuc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so\nAnt. Thy sisters sister\nLuc. That's my sister\nAnt. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part:\nMine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart;\nMy foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime;\nMy sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime\nLuc. All this my sister is, or else should be\nAnt. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee:\nThee will I loue, and with thee lead my life;\nThou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:\nGiue me thy hand\nLuc. Oh soft sir, hold you still:\nIle fetch my sister to get her good will.\nEnter.\nEnter Dromio, Siracusia.\nAnt. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so\nfast?\nS.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I\nyour man? Am I my selfe?\nAnt. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art\nthy selfe\nDro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides\nmy selfe\nAnt. What womans man? and how besides thy\nselfe?\nDro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman:\nOne that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will\nhaue me\nAnti. What claime laies she to thee?\nDro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your\nhorse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing\na beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie\nbeastly creature layes claime to me\nAnti. What is she?\nDro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man\nmay not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue\nbut leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous\nfat marriage\nAnti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage?\nDro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease,\nand I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a\nLampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I\nwarrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne\na Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne\na weeke longer then the whole World\nAnti. What complexion is she of?\nDro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like\nso cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes\nin the grime of it\nAnti. That's a fault that water will mend\nDro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not\ndo it\nAnti. What's her name?\nDro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's\nan Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip\nto hip\nAnti. Then she beares some bredth?\nDro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe\nto hippe: she is sphericall, like a globe: I could find out\nCountries in her\nAnti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?\nDro. Marry sir in her buttockes, I found it out by\nthe bogges\nAnt. Where Scotland?\nDro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme\nof the hand\nAnt. Where France?\nDro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making\nwarre against her heire\nAnt. Where England?\nDro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find\nno whitenesse in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin\nby the salt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it\nAnt. Where Spaine?\nDro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth\nAnt. Where America, the Indies?\nDro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with\nRubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect\nto the hot breath of Spaine, who sent whole Armadoes\nof Carrects to be ballast at her nose\nAnti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?\nDro. Oh sir, I did not looke so low. To conclude,\nthis drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee, call'd mee\nDromio, swore I was assur'd to her, told me what priuie\nmarkes I had about mee, as the marke of my shoulder,\nthe Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme,\nthat I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if\nmy brest had not beene made of faith, and my heart of\nsteele, she had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made\nme turne i'th wheele\nAnti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode,\nAnd if the winde blow any way from shore,\nI will not harbour in this Towne to night.\nIf any Barke put forth, come to the Mart,\nWhere I will walke till thou returne to me:\nIf euerie one knowes vs, and we know none,\n'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone\nDro. As from a Beare a man would run for life,\nSo flie I from her that would be my wife.\nExit\nAnti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere,\nAnd therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence:\nShe that doth call me husband, euen my soule\nDoth for a wife abhorre. But her faire sister\nPossest with such a gentle soueraigne grace,\nOf such inchanting presence and discourse,\nHath almost made me Traitor to my selfe:\nBut least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong,\nIle stop mine eares against the Mermaids song.\nEnter Angelo with the Chaine.\nAng. Mr Antipholus\nAnti. I that's my name\nAng. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine,\nI thought to haue tane you at the Porpentine,\nThe chaine vnfinish'd made me stay thus long\nAnti. What is your will that I shal do with this?\nAng. What please your selfe sir: I haue made it for\nyou\nAnti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not\nAng. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you\nhaue:\nGo home with it, and please your Wife withall,\nAnd soone at supper time Ile visit you,\nAnd then receiue my money for the chaine\nAnti. I pray you sir receiue the money now.\nFor feare you ne're see chaine, nor mony more\nAng. You are a merry man sir, fare you well.\nEnter.\nAnt. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell:\nBut this I thinke, there's no man is so vaine,\nThat would refuse so faire an offer'd Chaine.\nI see a man heere needs not liue by shifts,\nWhen in the streets he meetes such Golden gifts:\nIle to the Mart, and there for Dromio stay,\nIf any ship put out, then straight away.\nEnter.\nActus Quartus. Scoena Prima.\nEnter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.\nMar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due,\nAnd since I haue not much importun'd you,\nNor now I had not, but that I am bound\nTo Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage:\nTherefore make present satisfaction,\nOr Ile attach you by this Officer\nGold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you,\nIs growing to me by Antipholus,\nAnd in the instant that I met with you,\nHe had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke\nI shall receiue the money for the same:\nPleaseth you walke with me downe to his house,\nI will discharge my bond, and thanke you too.\nEnter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans.\nOffi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes\nAnt. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou\nAnd buy a ropes end, that will I bestow\nAmong my wife, and their confederates,\nFor locking me out of my doores by day:\nBut soft I see the Goldsmith; get thee gone,\nBuy thou a rope, and bring it home to me\nDro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope.\nExit Dromio\nEph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you,\nI promised your presence, and the Chaine,\nBut neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:\nBelike you thought our loue would last too long\nIf it were chain'd together: and therefore came not\nGold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note\nHow much your Chaine weighs to the vtmost charect,\nThe finenesse of the Gold, and chargefull fashion,\nWhich doth amount to three odde Duckets more\nThen I stand debted to this Gentleman,\nI pray you see him presently discharg'd,\nFor he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it\nAnti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie:\nBesides I haue some businesse in the towne,\nGood Signior take the stranger to my house,\nAnd with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife\nDisburse the summe, on the receit thereof,\nPerchance I will be there as soone as you\nGold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your\nselfe\nAnti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough\nGold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about\nyou?\nAnt. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue:\nOr else you may returne without your money\nGold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine:\nBoth winde and tide stayes for this Gentleman,\nAnd I too blame haue held him heere too long\nAnti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse\nYour breach of promise to the Porpentine,\nI should haue chid you for not bringing it,\nBut like a shrew you first begin to brawle\nMar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch\nGold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine\nAnt. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony\nGold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now.\nEither send the Chaine, or send me by some token\nAnt. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath,\nCome where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it\nMar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance,\nGood sir say, whe'r you'l answer me, or no:\nIf not, Ile leaue him to the Officer\nAnt. I answer you? What should I answer you\nGold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine\nAnt. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine\nGold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since\nAnt. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to\nsay so\nGold. You wrong me more sir in denying it.\nConsider how it stands vpon my credit\nMar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite\nOffi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey\nme\nGold. This touches me in reputation.\nEither consent to pay this sum for me,\nOr I attach you by this Officer\nAnt. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had:\nArrest me foolish fellow if thou dar'st\nGold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer.\nI would not spare my brother in this case,\nIf he should scorne me so apparantly\nOffic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite\nAnt. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile.\nBut sirrah, you shall buy this sport as deere,\nAs all the mettall in your shop will answer\nGold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus,\nTo your notorious shame, I doubt it not.\nEnter Dromio Sira. from the Bay.\nDro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium,\nThat staies but till her Owner comes aboord,\nAnd then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir,\nI haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought\nThe Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae.\nThe ship is in her trim, the merrie winde\nBlowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all,\nBut for their Owner, Master, and your selfe\nAn. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep\nWhat ship of Epidamium staies for me\nS.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage\nAnt. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope,\nAnd told thee to what purpose, and what end\nS.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone,\nYou sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke\nAnt. I will debate this matter at more leisure\nAnd teach your eares to list me with more heede:\nTo Adriana Villaine hie thee straight:\nGiue her this key, and tell her in the Deske\nThat's couer'd o're with Turkish Tapistrie,\nThere is a purse of Duckets, let her send it:\nTell her, I am arrested in the streete,\nAnd that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone,\nOn Officer to prison, till it come.\nExeunt.\nS.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd,\nWhere Dowsabell did claime me for her husband,\nShe is too bigge I hope for me to compasse,\nThither I must, although against my will:\nFor seruants must their Masters mindes fulfill.\nExit\nEnter Adriana and Luciana.\nAdr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?\nMight'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie,\nThat he did plead in earnest, yea or no:\nLook'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?\nWhat obseruation mad'st thou in this case?\nOh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face\nLuc. First he deni'de you had in him no right\nAdr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight\nLuc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere\nAdr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee\nwere\nLuc. Then pleaded I for you\nAdr. And what said he?\nLuc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me\nAdr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue?\nLuc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue.\nFirst, he did praise my beautie, then my speech\nAdr. Did'st speake him faire?\nLuc. Haue patience I beseech\nAdr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still.\nMy tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.\nHe is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,\nIll-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where:\nVicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde,\nStigmaticall in making worse in minde\nLuc. Who would be iealous then of such a one?\nNo euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone\nAdr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say:\nAnd yet would herein others eies were worse:\nFarre from her nest the Lapwing cries away;\nMy heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.\nEnter S.Dromio.\nDro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make\nhaste\nLuc. How hast thou lost thy breath?\nS.Dro. By running fast\nAdr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?\nS.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell:\nA diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him;\nOn whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:\nA Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe:\nA Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe:\nA back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds\nThe passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands:\nA hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,\nOne that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to hel\nAdr. Why man, what is the matter?\nS.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on\nthe case\nAdr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite?\nS.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well;\nbut is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell,\nwill you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in\nhis deske\nAdr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.\nExit Luciana.\nThus he vnknowne to me should be in debt:\nTell me, was he arested on a band?\nS.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing:\nA chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring\nAdria. What, the chaine?\nS.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:\nIt was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one\nAdr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here\nS.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes\nbacke for verie feare\nAdri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou\nreason?\nS.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then\nhe's worth to season.\nNay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say,\nThat time comes stealing on by night and day?\nIf I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way,\nHath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?\nEnter Luciana.\nAdr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight,\nAnd bring thy Master home imediately.\nCome sister, I am prest downe with conceit:\nConceit, my comfort and my iniurie.\nEnter.\nEnter Antipholus Siracusia.\nThere's not a man I meete but doth salute me\nAs if I were their well acquainted friend,\nAnd euerie one doth call me by my name:\nSome tender monie to me, some inuite me;\nSome other giue me thankes for kindnesses;\nSome offer me Commodities to buy.\nEuen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,\nAnd show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,\nAnd therewithall tooke measure of my body.\nSure these are but imaginarie wiles,\nAnd lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.\nEnter Dromio. Sir.\nS.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what\nhaue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?\nAnt. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou\nmeane?\nS.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but\nthat Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the\ncalues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that\ncame behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake\nyour libertie\nAnt. I vnderstand thee not\nS.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like\na Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when\ngentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them:\nhe sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them\nsuites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits\nwith his Mace, then a Moris Pike\nAnt. What thou mean'st an officer?\nS.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings\nany man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that\nthinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue\nyou good rest\nAnt. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie:\nIs there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone?\nS.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since,\nthat the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then\nwere you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy\nDelay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer\nyou\nAnt. The fellow is distract, and so am I,\nAnd here we wander in illusions:\nSome blessed power deliuer vs from hence.\nEnter a Curtizan.\nCur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus:\nI see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now:\nIs that the chaine you promis'd me to day\nAnt. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not\nS.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?\nAnt. It is the diuell\nS.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam:\nAnd here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and\nthereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's\nas much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written,\nthey appeare to men like angels of light, light is an\neffect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will\nburne, come not neere her\nCur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir.\nWill you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?\nS.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake\na long spoone\nAnt. Why Dromio?\nS.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must\neate with the diuell\nAnt. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping?\nThou art, as you are all a sorceresse:\nI coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon\nCur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner,\nOr for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd,\nAnd Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you\nS.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile,\na rush, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone:\nbut she more couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master\nbe wise, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake\nher Chaine, and fright vs with it\nCur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine,\nI hope you do not meane to cheate me so?\nAnt. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go\nS.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that\nyou know.\nEnter.\nCur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad,\nElse would he neuer so demeane himselfe,\nA Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets,\nAnd for the same he promis'd me a Chaine,\nBoth one and other he denies me now:\nThe reason that I gather he is mad,\nBesides this present instance of his rage,\nIs a mad tale he told to day at dinner,\nOf his owne doores being shut against his entrance.\nBelike his wife acquainted with his fits,\nOn purpose shut the doores against his way:\nMy way is now to hie home to his house,\nAnd tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,\nHe rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce\nMy Ring away. This course I fittest choose,\nFor fortie Duckets is too much to loose.\nEnter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor.\nAn. Feare me not man, I will not breake away,\nIle giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money\nTo warrant thee as I am rested for.\nMy wife is in a wayward moode to day,\nAnd will not lightly trust the Messenger,\nThat I should be attach'd in Ephesus,\nI tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.\nEnter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.\nHeere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.\nHow now sir? Haue you that I sent you for?\nE.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all\nAnti. But where's the Money?\nE.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope\nAnt. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope?\nE.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate\nAnt. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?\nE.Dro. To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I return'd\nAnt. And to that end sir, I will welcome you\nOffi. Good sir be patient\nE.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie\nOffi. Good now hold thy tongue\nE.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands\nAnti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine\nE.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might\nnot feele your blowes\nAnti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and\nso is an Asse\nE.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by\nmy long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my\nNatiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands\nfor my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates\nme with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with\nbeating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with\nit when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe\nfrom home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay\nI beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat:\nand I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with\nit from doore to doore.\nEnter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd\nPinch.\nAnt. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder\nE.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather\nthe prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end\nAnti. Wilt thou still talke?\nBeats Dro.\nCurt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?\nAdri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse:\nGood Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,\nEstablish him in his true sence againe,\nAnd I will please you what you will demand\nLuc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes\nCur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie\nPinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your\npulse\nAnt. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare\nPinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man,\nTo yeeld possession to my holie praiers,\nAnd to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight,\nI coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen\nAnti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad\nAdr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule\nAnti. You Minion you, are these your Customers?\nDid this Companion with the saffron face\nReuell and feast it at my house to day,\nWhil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut,\nAnd I denied to enter in my house\nAdr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home\nWhere would you had remain'd vntill this time,\nFree from these slanders, and this open shame\nAnti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest\nthou?\nDro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home\nAnt. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out?\nDro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut\nout\nAnti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there?\nDro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there\nAnti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and\nscorne me?\nDro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you\nAnt. And did not I in rage depart from thence?\nDro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse,\nThat since haue felt the vigor of his rage\nAdr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries?\nPinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine,\nAnd yeelding to him, humors well his frensie\nAnt. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest\nmee\nAdr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you,\nBy Dromio heere, who came in hast for it\nDro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might,\nBut surely Master not a ragge of Monie\nAnt. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets\nAdri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it\nLuci. And I am witnesse with her that she did:\nDro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse,\nThat I was sent for nothing but a rope\nPinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest,\nI know it by their pale and deadly lookes,\nThey must be bound and laide in some darke roome\nAnt. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day,\nAnd why dost thou denie the bagge of gold?\nAdr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth\nDro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold:\nBut I confesse sir, that we were lock'd out\nAdr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both\nAnt. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all,\nAnd art confederate with a damned packe,\nTo make a loathsome abiect scorne of me:\nBut with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes,\nThat would behold in me this shamefull sport.\nEnter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues.\nAdr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come\nneere me\nPinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him\nLuc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks\nAnt. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou?\nI am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue?\nOffi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you\nshall not haue him\nPinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too\nAdr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer?\nHast thou delight to see a wretched man\nDo outrage and displeasure to himselfe?\nOffi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go,\nThe debt he owes will be requir'd of me\nAdr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee,\nBeare me forthwith vnto his Creditor,\nAnd knowing how the debt growes I will pay it.\nGood Master Doctor see him safe conuey'd\nHome to my house, oh most vnhappy day\nAnt. Oh most vnhappie strumpet\nDro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you\nAnt. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad\nmee?\nDro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good\nMaster, cry the diuell\nLuc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they\ntalke\nAdr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me:\nSay now, whose suite is he arrested at?\nExeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan\nOff. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him?\nAdr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes?\nOff. Two hundred Duckets\nAdr. Say, how growes it due\nOff. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him\nAdr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not\nCur. When as your husband all in rage to day\nCame to my house, and tooke away my Ring,\nThe Ring I saw vpon his finger now,\nStraight after did I meete him with a Chaine\nAdr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it.\nCome Iailor, bring me where the Goldsmith is,\nI long to know the truth heereof at large.\nEnter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio\nSirac.\nLuc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe\nAdr. And come with naked swords,\nLet's call more helpe to haue them bound againe.\nRunne all out.\nOff. Away, they'l kill vs.\nExeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted.\nS.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords\nS.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from\nyou\nAnt. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from\nthence:\nI long that we were safe and sound aboord\nDro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do\nvs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold:\nme thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for\nthe Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me,\nI could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne\nWitch\nAnt. I will not stay to night for all the Towne,\nTherefore away, to get our stuffe aboord.\nExeunt.\nActus Quintus. Scoena Prima.\nEnter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.\nGold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you,\nBut I protest he had the Chaine of me,\nThough most dishonestly he doth denie it\nMar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie?\nGold. Of very reuerent reputation sir,\nOf credit infinite, highly belou'd,\nSecond to none that liues heere in the Citie:\nHis word might beare my wealth at any time\nMar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.\nEnter Antipholus and Dromio againe.\nGold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke,\nWhich he forswore most monstrously to haue.\nGood sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him:\nSignior Antipholus, I wonder much\nThat you would put me to this shame and trouble,\nAnd not without some scandall to your selfe,\nWith circumstance and oaths, so to denie\nThis Chaine, which now you weare so openly.\nBeside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,\nYou haue done wrong to this my honest friend,\nWho but for staying on our Controuersie,\nHad hoisted saile, and put to sea to day:\nThis Chaine you had of me, can you deny it?\nAnt. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it\nMar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too\nAnt. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it?\nMar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee:\nFie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liu'st\nTo walke where any honest men resort\nAnt. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus,\nIle proue mine honor, and mine honestie\nAgainst thee presently, if thou dar'st stand:\nMar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.\nThey draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others.\nAdr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad,\nSome get within him, take his sword away:\nBinde Dromio too, and beare them to my house\nS.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house,\nThis is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.\nExeunt. to the Priorie.\nEnter Ladie Abbesse.\nAb. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?\nAdr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence,\nLet vs come in, that we may binde him fast,\nAnd beare him home for his recouerie\nGold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits\nMar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him\nAb. How long hath this possession held the man\nAdr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad,\nAnd much different from the man he was:\nBut till this afternoone his passion\nNe're brake into extremity of rage\nAb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea,\nBuried some deere friend, hath not else his eye\nStray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue,\nA sinne preuailing much in youthfull men,\nWho giue their eies the liberty of gazing.\nWhich of these sorrowes is he subiect too?\nAdr. To none of these, except it be the last,\nNamely, some loue that drew him oft from home\nAb. You should for that haue reprehended him\nAdr. Why so I did\nAb. I but not rough enough\nAdr. As roughly as my modestie would let me\nAb. Haply in priuate\nAdr. And in assemblies too\nAb. I, but not enough\nAdr. It was the copie of our Conference.\nIn bed he slept not for my vrging it,\nAt boord he fed not for my vrging it:\nAlone, it was the subiect of my Theame:\nIn company I often glanced it:\nStill did I tell him, it was vilde and bad\nAb. And thereof came it, that the man was mad.\nThe venome clamors of a iealous woman,\nPoisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.\nIt seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing,\nAnd thereof comes it that his head is light.\nThou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings,\nVnquiet meales make ill digestions,\nThereof the raging fire of feauer bred,\nAnd what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse?\nThou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles.\nSweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue\nBut moodie and dull melancholly,\nKinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire,\nAnd at her heeles a huge infectious troope\nOf pale distemperatures, and foes to life?\nIn food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest\nTo be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast:\nThe consequence is then, thy iealous fits\nHath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits\nLuc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely,\nWhen he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly,\nWhy beare you these rebukes, and answer not?\nAdri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe,\nGood people enter, and lay hold on him\nAb. No, not a creature enters in my house\nAd. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth\nAb. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary,\nAnd it shall priuiledge him from your hands,\nTill I haue brought him to his wits againe,\nOr loose my labour in assaying it\nAdr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse,\nDiet his sicknesse, for it is my Office,\nAnd will haue no atturney but my selfe,\nAnd therefore let me haue him home with me\nAb. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre,\nTill I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue,\nWith wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers\nTo make of him a formall man againe:\nIt is a branch and parcell of mine oath,\nA charitable dutie of my order,\nTherefore depart, and leaue him heere with me\nAdr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere:\nAnd ill it doth beseeme your holinesse\nTo separate the husband and the wife\nAb. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him\nLuc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity\nAdr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete,\nAnd neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers\nHaue won his grace to come in person hither,\nAnd take perforce my husband from the Abbesse\nMar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue:\nAnon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person\nComes this way to the melancholly vale;\nThe place of depth, and sorrie execution,\nBehinde the ditches of the Abbey heere\nGold. Vpon what cause?\nMar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant,\nWho put vnluckily into this Bay\nAgainst the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,\nBeheaded publikely for his offence\nGold. See where they come, we wil behold his death\nLuc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey.\nEnter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare\nhead, with\nthe Headsman, & other Officers.\nDuke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely,\nIf any friend will pay the summe for him,\nHe shall not die, so much we tender him\nAdr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse\nDuke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady,\nIt cannot be that she hath done thee wrong\nAdr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d,\nWho I made Lord of me, and all I had,\nAt your important Letters this ill day,\nA most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him:\nThat desp'rately he hurried through the streete,\nWith him his bondman, all as mad as he,\nDoing displeasure to the Citizens,\nBy rushing in their houses: bearing thence\nRings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.\nOnce did I get him bound, and sent him home,\nWhil'st to take order for the wrongs I went,\nThat heere and there his furie had committed,\nAnon I wot not, by what strong escape\nHe broke from those that had the guard of him,\nAnd with his mad attendant and himselfe,\nEach one with irefull passion, with drawne swords\nMet vs againe, and madly bent on vs\nChac'd vs away: till raising of more aide\nWe came againe to binde them: then they fled\nInto this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them,\nAnd heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs,\nAnd will not suffer vs to fetch him out,\nNor send him forth, that we may beare him hence.\nTherefore most gracious Duke with thy command,\nLet him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe\nDuke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars\nAnd I to thee ingag'd a Princes word,\nWhen thou didst make him Master of thy bed,\nTo do him all the grace and good I could.\nGo some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,\nAnd bid the Lady Abbesse come to me:\nI will determine this before I stirre.\nEnter a Messenger.\nOh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe,\nMy Master and his man are both broke loose,\nBeaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,\nWhose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire,\nAnd euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him\nGreat pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;\nMy Mr preaches patience to him, and the while\nHis man with Cizers nickes him like a foole:\nAnd sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe)\nBetweene them they will kill the Coniurer\nAdr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here,\nAnd that is false thou dost report to vs\nMess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true,\nI haue not breath'd almost since I did see it.\nHe cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,\nTo scorch your face, and to disfigure you:\nCry within.\nHarke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone\nDuke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with\nHalberds\nAdr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you,\nThat he is borne about inuisible,\nEuen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.\nAnd now he's there, past thought of humane reason.\nEnter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus.\nE.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice,\nEuen for the seruice that long since I did thee,\nWhen I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke\nDeepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood\nThat then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice\nMar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me\ndote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio\nE.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there:\nShe whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife;\nThat hath abused and dishonored me,\nEuen in the strength and height of iniurie:\nBeyond imagination is the wrong\nThat she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me\nDuke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust\nE.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores\nvpon me,\nWhile she with Harlots feasted in my house\nDuke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so?\nAdr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister,\nTo day did dine together: so befall my soule,\nAs this is false he burthens me withall\nLuc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night,\nBut she tels to your Highnesse simple truth\nGold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne,\nIn this the Madman iustly chargeth them\nE.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say,\nNeither disturbed with the effect of Wine,\nNor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire,\nAlbeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.\nThis woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;\nThat Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,\nCould witnesse it: for he was with me then,\nWho parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,\nPromising to bring it to the Porpentine,\nWhere Balthasar and I did dine together.\nOur dinner done, and he not comming thither,\nI went to seeke him. In the street I met him,\nAnd in his companie that Gentleman.\nThere did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe,\nThat I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,\nWhich God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,\nHe did arrest me with an Officer.\nI did obey, and sent my Pesant home\nFor certaine Duckets: he with none return'd.\nThen fairely I bespoke the Officer\nTo go in person with me to my house.\nBy'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more\nOf vilde Confederates: Along with them\nThey brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine;\nA meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,\nA thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,\nA needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;\nA liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue,\nForsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:\nAnd gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,\nAnd with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me,\nCries out, I was possest. Then altogether\nThey fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,\nAnd in a darke and dankish vault at home\nThere left me and my man, both bound together,\nTill gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,\nI gain'd my freedome; and immediately\nRan hether to your Grace, whom I beseech\nTo giue me ample satisfaction\nFor these deepe shames, and great indignities\nGold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:\nThat he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out\nDuke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?\nGold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,\nThese people saw the Chaine about his necke\nMar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine,\nHeard you confesse you had the Chaine of him,\nAfter you first forswore it on the Mart,\nAnd thereupon I drew my sword on you:\nAnd then you fled into this Abbey heere,\nFrom whence I thinke you are come by Miracle\nE.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals,\nNor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:\nI neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:\nAnd this is false you burthen me withall\nDuke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?\nI thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:\nIf heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.\nIf he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:\nYou say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere\nDenies that saying. Sirra, what say you?\nE.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine\nCur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring\nE.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her\nDuke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?\nCurt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace\nDuke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither.\nI thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.\nExit one to the Abbesse.\nFa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:\nHaply I see a friend will saue my life,\nAnd pay the sum that may deliuer me\nDuke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt\nFath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus?\nAnd is not that your bondman Dromio?\nE.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir,\nBut he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords,\nNow am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound\nFath. I am sure you both of you remember me\nDro. Our selues we do remember sir by you:\nFor lately we were bound as you are now.\nYou are not Pinches patient, are you sir?\nFather. Why looke you strange on me? you know\nme well\nE.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now\nFa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last,\nAnd carefull houres with times deformed hand,\nHaue written strange defeatures in my face:\nBut tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?\nAnt. Neither\nFat. Dromio, nor thou?\nDro. No trust me sir, nor I\nFa. I am sure thou dost?\nE.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer\na man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him\nFath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity\nHast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue\nIn seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne\nKnowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?\nThough now this grained face of mine be hid\nIn sap-consuming Winters drizled snow,\nAnd all the Conduits of my blood froze vp:\nYet hath my night of life some memorie:\nMy wasting lampes some fading glimmer left;\nMy dull deafe eares a little vse to heare:\nAll these old witnesses, I cannot erre.\nTell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus\nAnt. I neuer saw my Father in my life\nFa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy\nThou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne,\nThou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie\nAnt. The Duke, and all that know me in the City,\nCan witnesse with me that it is not so.\nI ne're saw Siracusa in my life\nDuke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares\nHaue I bin Patron to Antipholus,\nDuring which time, he ne're saw Siracusa:\nI see thy age and dangers make thee dote.\nEnter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.\nAbbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much\nwrong'd.\nAll gather to see them.\nAdr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me\nDuke. One of these men is genius to the other:\nAnd so of these, which is the naturall man,\nAnd which the spirit? Who deciphers them?\nS.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away\nE.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay\nS.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost\nS.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him\nheere?\nAbb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds,\nAnd gaine a husband by his libertie:\nSpeake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man\nThat hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia,\nThat bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?\nOh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:\nAnd speake vnto the same Aemilia\nDuke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right:\nThese two Antipholus, these two so like,\nAnd these two Dromio's, one in semblance:\nBesides her vrging of her wracke at sea,\nThese are the parents to these children,\nWhich accidentally are met together\nFa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia,\nIf thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne\nThat floated with thee on the fatall rafte\nAbb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,\nAnd the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;\nBut by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth\nBy force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them,\nAnd me they left with those of Epidamium.\nWhat then became of them, I cannot tell:\nI, to this fortune that you see mee in\nDuke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first\nS.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse\nDuke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which\nE.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord\nE.Dro. And I with him\nE.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous\nWarriour,\nDuke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle\nAdr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?\nS.Ant. I, gentle Mistris\nAdr. And are not you my husband?\nE.Ant. No, I say nay to that\nS.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so:\nAnd this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere\nDid call me brother. What I told you then,\nI hope I shall haue leisure to make good,\nIf this be not a dreame I see and heare\nGoldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of\nmee\nS.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not\nE.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me\nGold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not\nAdr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile\nBy Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not\nE.Dro. No, none by me\nS.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you,\nAnd Dromio my man did bring them me:\nI see we still did meete each others man,\nAnd I was tane for him, and he for me,\nAnd thereupon these errors are arose\nE.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere\nDuke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life\nCur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you\nE.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good\ncheere\nAbb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines\nTo go with vs into the Abbey heere,\nAnd heare at large discoursed all our fortunes,\nAnd all that are assembled in this place:\nThat by this simpathized one daies error\nHaue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,\nAnd we shall make full satisfaction.\nThirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile\nOf you my sonnes, and till this present houre\nMy heauie burthen are deliuered:\nThe Duke my husband, and my children both,\nAnd you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,\nGo to a Gossips feast, and go with mee,\nAfter so long greefe such Natiuitie\nDuke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.\nExeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.\nS.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord?\nE.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt\nS.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur\nS.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio.\nCome go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon,\nEmbrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.\nExit\nS.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house,\nThat kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner:\nShe now shall be my sister, not my wife,\nE.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother:\nI see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth,\nWill you walke in to see their gossipping?\nS.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder\nE.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it\nS.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,\nlead thou first\nE.Dro. Nay then thus:\nWe came into the world like brother and brother:\nAnd now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.\nExeunt.\nFINIS. The Comedie of Errors.","title":"The Comedie of Errors","type":"page"}