Angelo.
I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you;
But I protest he had the jewel of me,
Though most dishonestly he did deny it.

2d Mer.
How is the man esteem'd here in the city?

An.
Of very reverend estimation, sir,
Of credit infinite, highly belov'd,
Second to none that lives within our walls.
His word might bear my wealth at any time.

2d Mer.
Speak softly; yonder, as I think, he comes.

An.
'Tis so, and that same bracelet on his arm,
Which he forswore most monstrously to have.
Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. Enter Antipholis of Syracuse, and Dromio of Syracuse.
Signor Antipholis, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble,
And not without some scandal to yourself;
With circumstance and oaths so to deny
This bracelet which you wear so openly.
Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend;
Who, but for staying on our controversy,
Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day.
This jewel you had of me—Can you deny it?

An. of Syr.
I know I had—I never did deny it.

2d Mer.
Yes, that you did, sir—and forswore it too.

An. of Syr.
Who heard me to deny, or to forswear it?

2d Mer.
These ears of mine, thou knowest well, did hear thee.
Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou liv'st
To walk, where any honest men resort.

An. of Syr.
Thou art a villain to impeach me thus:
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty
Against thee, with my life, if thou dar'st stand it.

2d Mer.
I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Lesbia, and Attendants.

Ad.
Hold! hurt him not, for heaven's sake—he's mad.

Dr. of Syr.
Run, master, run for heaven's sake, take house.
This is some priory;—in, or we are spoil'd. [Exeunt to the Priory—the rest following.

Ad.
Pursue them, I beseech ye—bring them back. Enter the Abbess from the Priory.

Abbess.
Be quiet, people! wherefore throng ye hither?

Ad.
To fetch my poor, distracted husband hence.
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast,
And bear him home for his recovery.

An.
I knew he was not in his perfect wits.

2d Mer.
I'm sorry now, that I did draw upon him.

Abbess.
How long hath this possession held the man?

Ad.
This week he hath been heavy, sour, and sad,
And much, much different from the man he was;
But 'till this afternoon, his fatal passion
Ne'er broke into extremity of rage.

Abbess.
Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at sea?
Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love?
A sin, prevailing much in youthful men,
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing!—
Which of these sorrows is he subject to?

Ad.
To none of them, except it be the last,
Namely some love, that drew him oft from home.

Abbess.
You should for that have reprehended him.

Ad.
Why, so I did.

Abbess.
Ay, but not rough enough.

Ad.
As roughly as my modesty would let me.

Abbess.
Haply in private.

Ad.
And in assemblies too.

Abbess.
Ay, but not enough.

Ad.
It was the copy of our conference—

In bed he slept not for my urging it;
At board he fed not for my urging it;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme;
In company I often glanc'd at it;
Still did I tell him it was vile and base.

Abbess.
And therefore came it that the man was mad.
The venom'd clamours of a jealous woman,
Poison more deadly than a mad-dog's tooth!
It seems, his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing,
And therefore comes it, that his head is light.
Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred,
And what's a fever but a fit of madness?
Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd with thy brawls;
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody, mopish, and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to grim, and comfortless despair!
And, at her heels, a huge, infectious troop,
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
The consequence is then, thy jealousies
Have scar'd thy husband from his better sense.

Luc.
She never reprehended him but gently,
When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wild.
Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not?

Ad.
She did betray me to my own reproof.
Good people, enter, and lay hold on him.

Abbess.
No, not a creature enters in my house.

Ad.
Then let your servants bring my husband forth.

Abbess.
Neither—he took this place for sanctuary;
And it shall privilege him from your hands,
'Till I have brought him to his wits again,
Or lose my labour in essaying it.

Ad.
I will attend my husband; be his nurse,
Diet his sickness, for it is my office,
And therefore let me have him home with me.

Abbess.
Be patient, for I will not let him stir,
'Till I have used th' approved means I know,
With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
To bring him to his former state again.
It is a branch, and parcel of my oath,
A charitable duty of my order;
Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.

Ad.
I will not hence, and leave my husband here,

And ill it doth beseem your holiness,
To separate the husband and the wife.

Abbess.
Be quiet, and depart—thou shalt not have him. [Exit to the Priory.

Luc.
Complain unto the duke of this indignity.

Ad.
Come then, I will fall prostrate at his feet,
And never rise until my prayers and tears
Have won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from this abbess.

2d. Mer.
By this, I think, the dial points at five.
Anon, I'm sure the duke himself, in person,
Comes this way to the melancholy vale;
The place of death, and sorry execution.
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

An.
Upon what cause?

2d Mer.
To see a reverend Syracusan merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay,
Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.

An.
See where they come! we will behold his death.

Luc.
Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey. Enter Duke, Ægeon, Executioner, Officers, and Guards.

Duke.
Yet once again, proclaim it publicly,
If any friend will pay the sum for him,
He shall not die; so much we tender him.

Ad.
Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess.

Duke.
She is a virtuous and a reverend lady!
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.

Ad.
May it please your grace, Antipholis, my husband,
Whom I made lord of me, and all I had,
At your important letters, this ill day,
A most outrageous fit of madness seiz'd him;
That desperately he hurried thro' the street,
With him his bondman, all as mad as he,
Doing displeasure to the citizens,
By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whilst to take order for the wrongs, I went,
Which here and there his fury had committed.
Anon (I wot not by what strong escape)

He broke from those, who had the guard of him,
And with his mad attendant, with drawn swords,
Met us again, and madly bent on us,
Chas'd us away; 'till, raising of more aid,
We came again to bind 'em—then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we pursued 'em;
But here the abbess shuts the gates on us,
And will not suffer us to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.

Duke.
Long since thy husband serv'd me in my wars,
And I to thee engag'd a Prince's word,
When thou did'st make him master of thy bed,
To do him all the good and grace I could.
Go some of ye, knock at the abbey-gate,
And bid the lady-abbess come to me.
I will determine this, before I stir. Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
O! mistress, mistress haste and save yourself,
My master and his man are both broke loose.

Ad.
Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here,
And that is false thou dost report to us.

Mess.
Mistress, upon my life I tell you true,
I have not breath'd, almost, since I did see 'em.
Hark, hark! I hear 'em, mistress—fly! begone! [Exit.

Duke.
Fear nothing, I'll protect you.

Ad.
Ah, me! it is my husband! Witness all,
That he is borne about invisible!
Ev'n now we housed him in the abbey there,
And now he's here, past thought of human reason. Enter Antipholis of Ephesus, and Dromio of Ephesus.

An. of Eph.
Justice, most gracious duke—O! grant me justice!
Ev'n for the service, that, long since, I did thee,
When I bestrode thee in the wars, and took
Deep scars to save thy life; ev'n for the blood,
Which then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

Ægeon.
Unless the fear of death doth make me doat,
I see my son Antipholis and Dromio.

An. of Eph.
Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there,
She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife,
She hath abused and dishonoured me,
Ev'n in the strength and heighth of injury.

Duke.
Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.

An. of Eph.
This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me,
While she within was feasting with her minions.

Duke.
A grievous fault! Say, woman, did'st thou so?

Ad.
No, my good lord; myself, he, and my sister,
To-day did dine together—so befal my soul,
As that is false, he burdens me withal.

Luc.
Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she doth tell your highness simple truth!

Angelo.
O, perjur'd woman! they are both forsworn;
In this the madman justly chargeth them.
My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him,
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.

Duke.
Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
I think you all have drank of Circe's cup.
If here you hous'd him, here he would have been.
You say he din'd at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying—Sirrah, what say you?

Dr. of Eph.
Sir, he din'd with her there at the porcupine.

Les.
He did, and from my finger snatch'd that ring.

An. of Eph.
'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her.

Duke.
Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here?

Les.
As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.

Duke.
This is most strange! go, call the abbess hither. [Exit one to the Abbess.

Ægeon.
Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
Haply I see a friend, will save my life,
And pay the sum, that may deliver me.

Duke.
Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.

Ægeon.
Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholis?
And is not that your bondman, Dromio?

An. of Eph.
True, reverend hapless man, we are so call'd.

Ægeon.
I am sure, both of ye remember me.

An. of Eph.
Remember you!

Ægeon.
Why look you strange on me? you know me well.

An. of Eph.
I never saw you in my life 'till now.

Ægeon.
O! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last;
And careful hours, with time's deforming hand,
Have written strange defeatures in my face.
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

An. of Eph.
Neither.

Ægeon.
Not know my voice! O! time's extremity!
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue,
In seven short years, that here my only son
Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares?
Tho' now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
Yet hath my night of life some memory,
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left,
All these old witnesses—I cannot err—
Tell me thou art my son, Antipholis.

An. of Eph.
I never saw my father in my life.

Ægeon.
But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy,
Thou know'st we parted—but perhaps, my son,
Thou sham'st t' acknowledge me in misery.

An. of Eph.
The duke, and all that know me in the city,
Can witness with me that it is not so.
I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.

Duke.
I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years,
Have I been patron to Antipholis,
During which time, he ne'er saw Syracusa.
I see thy age and dangers make thee doat. Enter Abbess, with Antipholis of Syracuse, and Dromio of Syracuse, from the Priory.

Abbess.
Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd.

An.
I see two husbands, or my eyes deceive me.

Duke.
One of these men is genius to the other!
But of the two, which is the natural man,
And which the spirit? who decyphers them!

An. of Syr.
Ægeon art thou not!
O, my dear father! who hath bound him thus?

Abbess.
Whoever bound him I will loose his bonds,
And gain a husband by his liberty.
Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be'st the man,
That had'st a wife once call'd Æmilia,
Who bore thee, at a burthen, two fair sons;
O! if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak,
And speak unto the same Æmilia.

Ægeon.
Æmilia! O! support thyself, my soul!
'Till I, once more, have caught within my arms,
Their long—lost happiness!

Æmilia.
Thou art Ægeon, then?—I do not dream—
My husband! take, take the reviving heart,
Spotless and pure as when it first was thine,
Which from the cloister of religious solitude,
No voice, but thine, could ever have recall'd.

An. of Syr.
If I not interrupt such sacred feelings,
Thus let me bend, and mingle tears of rapture.
O raise my father, raise your reverend hands,
And bless your truant son!

Ægeon.
My dearest boy!
This is too much—O, curb thy joys a moment,
And have compassion on thy father's weakness.
But, if my feeble brain deceives me not,
One anxious question yet remains to ask;
Heart of my heart, resolve me; where's that son,
Who floated with thee on the fatal raft?

Æmilia.
By men of Epidamnum, he and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken up,
But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth,
By force took Dromio and my son from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
What then became of them, I cannot tell;
I to this fortune which you see me in.

An. of Eph.
And he reserv'd to share the happier hours
Of his dear parents; whom, 'till now unknown,
He greets with nature's best and fondest feelings.
Another tye my fortune yet allots,
And thus I claim it!

An. of Syr.
Welcome, dearest brother! [They embrace.

Both Drom.
Welcome, dearest brother!

An of Syr.
Ne'er may we feel a separation more!

Duke.
Why here begins the morning—Story right.
These plainly are the parents to these children,
Who thus amazingly are met together.

Æmelia.
Most gracious duke.

Duke.
One moment's pause, and all your griefs shall end.—
Antipholis, thou cam'st from Corinth first.

An. of Syr.
Not I, my lord; I came from Syracuse.

Duke.
Stay, stand apart!—I know not which is which.

An. of Eph.
I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.

Dr. of Eph.
And I with him.

An. of Eph.
Brought to this town by that right famous warrior,
Duke Minaphon, your most renowned uncle.

An.
That is the bracelet, sir, you had of me.

An. of Syr.
I think it be, sir, I deny it not.

An. of Eph.
And you, sir, for the same arrested me.

Ad
I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
By Dromio—but I think he brought it not.

Dr. of Eph.
No, none by me.

An. of Syr.
This purse of ducats I received for you,
And Dromio, my man, did bring 'em me,
I see, we still did meet each other's man,
And thereupon these errors all arose.

Dr. of Eph.

You see, brother, these wise folks can't blame us in these matters.

Dr. of Syr.
Really, brother, I think not.

An. of Eph.
These ducats pawn I for my father here.

An. of Syr.
It shall not be—I will procure his life,
To make some small amends for leaving him,
Alone, and friendless.

Ad.
Which of you two did dine with me to-day?

An. of Syr.
I, gentle mistress.

Ad.
Are you not my husband?

An. of Eph.
No; I say nay to that.

An. of Syr.
And so do I—yet she did call me so;
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,
Did call me brother—What I told you then,
I hope I shall have leisure to make good;
And that the heart which beats alone for you,
May, now the mist of error is dispers'd,
Which made thee fearful for thy virgin fame,
Obtain a gentle hearing.

Luc.
Should I find thee
Worthy, and constant, as my mind suggests,
The general joy, that smiles around, shall not
Be damp'd by any vain reserve of mine.

Abbess.
Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains
To go with us into the abbey here,
And hear, at large discoursed, all our fortunes;
And all, that are assembled in this place,
That by this sympathised one day's errors
Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company,
And you shall have full satisfaction.—
The duke, my husband and my children both,
And you, the kalendars of their nativity,
Go to a gossip's feast; go all with me—
After so long grief, such festivity!

Duke.
With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast,
And be a cheerful witness of the blessings,
Your pious faith, and virtuous resignation,
Have drawn upon you from relenting Heaven!

Ægeon.
Come, and partake
The joys, that gild the evening of our days.

Æmilia.
Joys past the reach of hope!—our lesson this,
That misery past endears our present bliss;
Wherein we read with wonder and delight,
This sacred truth, ‘Whatever is, is right.’ [Exeunt omnes. THE END.