Ang.
I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you;
But, I protest, he had the chain of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth ^note deny it.

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

Ang.
Of very reverent reputation, sir,
Of credit infinite, highly beloved,
Second to none that lives here in the city:
His word might bear my wealth at any time.

Sec. Mer.
Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks. Enter ^note Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.

Ang.
'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck,
Which he forswore most monstrously to have.
Good sir, draw near to me ^note, I'll speak to him;
Signior Antipholus, 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 chain which now you wear so openly:
Beside ^note 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 chain you had of me; can you deny it?

Ant. S.
I think I had; I never did deny it.

Sec. Mer.
Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.

Ant. S.
Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?

Sec. Mer.
These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee. ^note
Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou livest
To walk where any honest men resort.

Ant. S.
Thou art a villain to impeach me thus:
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty ^note
Against thee presently, if thou darest stand.

Sec. Mer.
I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. [They draw.

^noteEnter Adriana, Luciana, the Courtezan, and others.

Adr.
Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake! he is mad.
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.

Dro. S.
Run, master, run; for God's ^note sake, take a house!
This is some priory.—In, or we are spoil'd! [Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S. to the Priory. Enter the Lady Abbess.

Abb.
Be quiet, people. ^note Wherefore throng you hither?

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

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

Sec. Mer.
I am sorry now that I did draw on him.

Abb.
How long hath this possession held the man?

Adr.
This week he hath been heavy, sour ^note, sad,
And much ^note different from the man he was;
But till this afternoon his passion
Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.

Abb.
Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea ^note?
Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye ^note
Stray'd his affection in ^note 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?

Adr.
To none of these, except it be the last;
Namely, some love that drew him oft from home.

Abb.
You should for that have reprehended him.

Adr.
Why, so I did.

Abb.
Ay, but not rough enough.

Adr.
As roughly as my modesty would let me.

Abb.
Haply, in private.

Adr.
And in assemblies too.

Abb.
Ay ^note, but not enough.

Adr.
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 glanced it ^note;
Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abb.
And thereof came it that the man was mad:—
The venom ^note clamours of a jealous woman, ^note
Poisons ^note more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing:
And thereof ^note comes it that his head is light.
Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings:
Unquiet meals make ^note ill digestions;
Thereof ^note the raging fire of fever bred;
And what's a fever but a fit of madness?
Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by ^note thy brawls:
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moody ^note and dull melancholy ^note, ^note
Kinsman ^note to grim and comfortless despair;
And at her ^note heels a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast:
The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits
Have ^note scared thy husband from the use of wits.

Luc.
She never reprehended him but mildly,

When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly ^note.
Why bear you these ^note rebukes, and answer not?

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

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

Adr.
Then let your servants bring my husband forth.

Abb.
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 assaying it.

Adr.
I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sickness, for it is my office,
And will have no attorney but myself;
And therefore let me have him home with me.

Abb.
Be patient; for I will not let him stir
Till I have used the approved means I have,
With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal man again:
It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order.
Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.

Adr.
I will not hence, and leave my husband here:
And ill it doth beseem your holiness
To separate the husband and the wife.

Abb.
Be quiet, and depart: thou shalt not have him. [Exit. ^note

Luc.
Complain unto the Duke of this indignity.

Adr.
Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet,
And never rise until my tears and prayers
Have won his Grace to come in person hither, ^note
And take perforce my husband from the abbess.

Sec. 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 ^note and sorry ^note execution,

Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

Ang.
Upon what cause?

Sec. Mer.
To see a reverend ^note Syracusian merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay
Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence. ^note

Ang.
See where they come: we will behold his death.

Luc.
Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey. ^noteEnter Duke, attended ^note; Ægeon bareheaded; with the Headsman and other Officers.

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

Adr.
Justice, most sacred Duke, against the abbess!

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

Adr.
May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husband,—
Whom ^note I made lord of me and all I had,
At your important ^note letters ^note,—this ill day
A most outrageous fit of madness took him;
That desperately he hurried through 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,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot not by what strong ^note escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him;

And with ^note his mad attendant and himself ^note,
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords,
Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
Chased us away; till, raising of more aid,
We came again to bind them. Then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we pursued them;
And 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 ^note.
Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy command
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.

Duke.
Long since thy husband served me in my wars;
And I to thee engaged a prince's word,
When thou didst make him master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate,
And bid the lady abbess come to me.
I will determine this before I stir. ^noteEnter a Servant. ^note

Serv.
O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself!
My master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor,
Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire;
And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair:
My master preaches patience to him ^note, and ^note the while
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool;
And sure, unless you send some ^note present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

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

Serv.
Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true;
I have not breathed almost since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you,
To scorch ^note your face and to disfigure you. [Cry within.
Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress: fly, be gone!

Duke.
Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard with halberds!

Adr.
Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible:
Even now we housed him in the abbey here;
And now he's there, past thought of human reason. Enter Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus.

Ant. E.
Justice, most gracious Duke, O, grant me justice!
Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took
Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

Æge.
Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio.

Ant. E.
Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there!
She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife,
That hath abused and dishonour'd me
Even in the strength and height of injury:
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.

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

Ant. E.
This day, great Duke, she shut the doors upon me,
While ^note she with harlots feasted in my house.

Duke.
A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst thou so?

Adr.
No, my good lord: myself, he and my sister
To-day ^note did dine together. So befal ^note my soul
As this is false he burdens me withal!

Luc.
Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,

But she tells to your Highness simple truth! ^note

Ang.
O perjured woman! They are both forsworn:
In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E.
My liege, I am advised what I say;
Neither disturbed with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner:
That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witness it, for he was with me then;
Who parted with me to go fetch a chain,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him: in the street I met him,
And in his company that gentleman.
There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down
That I this day of ^note him received the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which
He did arrest me with an officer.
I did obey; and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats: he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer
To go in person with me to my house. ^note
By the way ^note we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vile confederates. Along with them ^note
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A living-dead man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd. Then all together

They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in ^note a dark and dankish vault at home
There ^note left me and my man, both bound together;
Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder ^note,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction
For these deep shames and great indignities.

Ang.
My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him,
That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out.

Duke.
But had he such a chain of thee or no?

Ang.
He had, my lord: and when he ran in here,
These people saw the chain about his neck.

Sec. Mer.
Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine
Heard you confess you had the chain of him,
After you first forswore it on the mart:
And thereupon I drew my sword on you;
And then you fled into this abbey here,
From whence, I think, you are come by miracle.

Ant. E.
I never came within these abbey-walls;
Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven:
And ^note this is false you burden me withal!

Duke.
Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup.
If here you housed him, here he would have been;
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly:
You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you?

Dro. E.
Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porpentine.

Cour.
He did; and from my finger snatch'd that ring.

Ant. E.
'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her.

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

Cour.
As sure, my liege, as I do see your Grace.

Duke.
Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither.

I think you are all mated, or stark mad ^note. [Exit ^note one to the Abbess.

Æge.
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, Syracusian, what thou wilt.

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

Dro. E.
Within this hour I was his bondman, sir,
But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords:
Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound.

Æge.
I am sure you both ^note of you remember me.

Dro. E.
Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;
For lately we were bound, as you are now.
You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir?

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

Ant. E.
I never saw you in my life till now.

Æge.
O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours with time's deformed ^note hand
Have written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

Ant. E.
Neither.

Æge.
Dromio, nor thou?

Dro. E.
No, trust me, sir, nor I.

Æge.
I am sure thou dost. ^note

Dro. E.

Ay, sir, ^note but I am sure I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

Æge.
Not know my voice! O time's extremity,
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted ^note my poor tongue
In seven short years, that here my only son
Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares ^{note note}?
Though 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 lamps ^note some fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear:
All ^note these old ^note witnesses—I cannot err— ^note
Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.

Ant. E.
I never saw my father in my life.

Æge.
But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy ^note,
Thou know'st we parted: but perhaps, my son,
Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery.

Ant. E.
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, Syracusian, twenty years
Have I been patron to Antipholus,
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa:
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. ^noteRe-enter Abbess, with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.

Abb.
Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see them. ^note

Adr.
I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.

Duke.
One of these men is Genius to the other;
And so of these. Which ^note is the natural man,
And which the spirit? who deciphers them?

Dro. S.
I, sir, am Dromio: command him away.

Dro. E.
I, sir, am Dromio: pray, let me stay.

Ant. S.
Ægeon art thou not? or else his ghost?

Dro. S.
O, my old master! who hath bound him here?

Abb.
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 hadst a wife once call'd Æmilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons:
O, if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak,
And speak unto the same Æmilia!

Æge.
If I dream not, thou art Æmilia:
If thou art she, tell me where is that son
That floated with thee on the fatal raft?

Abb.
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 that you see me in.

Duke.
Why, here begins his ^note morning story right ^note:
These two Antipholuses, these ^note two so like,
And these ^note two Dromios, one in semblance ^note,—
Besides her urging of her ^note wreck at sea,— ^note
These are ^note the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together ^note. ^note
Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first?

Ant. S.
No, sir, not I; I came from Syracuse.

Duke.
Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which.

Ant. E.
I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord,—

Dro. E.
And I with him.

Ant. E.
Brought to this town by that most famous warrior,

Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.

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

Ant. S.
I, gentle mistress.

Adr.
And are not you my husband?

Ant. E.
No; I say nay to that.

Ant. S.
And so do I; yet did she call me so:
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister ^note here,
Did call me brother. [To Lucia. ^note] What I told you then,
I hope I shall have leisure to make good;
If this be not a dream I see and hear.

Ang.
That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.

Ant. S.
I think it be, sir; I deny it not.

Ant. E.
And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.

Ang.
I think I did, sir; I deny it not.

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

Dro. E.
No, none by me.

Ant. S.
This purse of ducats I received from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me.
I see we still did meet each other's man;
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me;
And thereupon these ERRORS are arose ^note.

Ant. E.
These ducats pawn I for my father here.

Duke.
It shall not need; thy father hath his life.

Cour.
Sir, I must have that diamond from you.

Ant. E.
There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer.

Abb.
Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains
To go with us into the abbey here,
And hear ^note at large discoursed all our fortunes;—
And all that are assembled in this place,
That by this sympathized one day's error
Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company,
And we shall make ^note full satisfaction.—

Thirty-three ^note years have I but ^note gone in travail
Of you, my sons; and till ^note this present hour
My heavy burthen ne'er ^note delivered.
The Duke, my husband, and my children both,
And you the calendars of their nativity,
Go to a gossips' feast, and go ^{note note} with me;
After so long grief, such nativity ^note! ^note

Duke.
With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast. [Exeunt ^note all but Ant. S., Ant. E., Dro. S., and Dro. E. ^note

Dro. S.
Master, shall I fetch ^note your stuff from ship-board ^note?

Ant. E.
Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?

Dro. S.
Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.

Ant. S.
He speaks to me.—I am your master, Dromio:
Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon:
Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him. [Exeunt ^note Ant. S. and Ant. E.

Dro. S.
There is a fat friend at your master's house,
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

Dro. E.
Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother:
I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

Dro. S.
Not I, sir; you are my elder.

Dro. E.
That's a question: how shall we try it? ^note

Dro. S.
We'll ^note draw cuts for the senior ^note: till then lead thou first. ^note

Dro. E.
Nay, then, thus:—
We came into the world like brother and brother;
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. [Exeunt.

NOTES. ^note