The Comedy of Errors (Folio 1, 1623)Editor: Matthew Steggle Not Peer Reviewed Search TextAdvanced SearchThe Comedie of Errors.
1
Actus primus, Scena prima. ¶
Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, ¶ Iaylor, and other attendants.
¶
Marchant. ¶ Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more. ¶I am not partiall to infringe our Lawes;
¶The enmity and discord which of late
10Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke,
¶To Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen,
¶Who wanting gilders to redeeme their liues,
¶Haue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds,
¶Excludes all pitty from our threatning lookes:
¶Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,
¶It hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed,
¶Both by the Siracusians and our selues,
¶To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes:
20Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus
¶Be seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres:
¶Againe, if any Siracusian borne
¶Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies:
¶His goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose,
25Vnlesse a thousand markes be leuied
¶To quit the penalty, and to ransome him:
¶Cannot amount vnto a hundred Markes,
¶Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die. 30 Mer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done, ¶My woes end likewise with the euening Sonne. ¶
Duk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause 35 Mer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd, ¶Then I to speake my griefes vnspeakeable:
¶Yet that the world may witnesse that my end
¶Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
¶Ile vtter what my sorrow giues me leaue.
40In Syracusa was I borne, and wedde
¶Vnto a woman, happy but for me,
¶And by me; had not our hap beene bad:
¶With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast
¶By prosperous voyages I often made
45To Epidamium, till my factors death,
¶And he great care of goods at randone left,
¶Drew me from kinde embracements of my spouse;
¶From whom my absence was not sixe moneths olde,
¶Before her selfe (almost at fainting vnder
¶Had made prouision for her following me,
¶And soone, and safe, arriued where I was:
¶A ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes:
55And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
¶That very howre, and in the selfe-same Inne,
¶A meane woman was deliuered
¶Of such a burthen Male, twins both alike:
60Those, for their parents were exceeding poore,
¶I bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes.
¶My wife, not meanely prowd of two such boyes,
¶Made daily motions for our home returne:
¶Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord.
65A league from Epidamium had we saild
¶Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe
¶Gaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme:
¶But longer did we not retaine much hope;
¶For what obscured light the heauens did grant,
70Did but conuay vnto our fearefull mindes
¶A doubtfull warrant of immediate death,
¶Which though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd,
¶Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
75And pitteous playnings of the prettie babes
¶That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare,
¶Forst me to seeke delayes for them and me,
¶And this it was: (for other meanes was none)
¶The Sailors sought for safety by our boate,
¶My wife, more carefull for the latter borne,
¶Such as sea-faring men prouide for stormes:
¶To him one of the other twins was bound,
85Whil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other.
¶The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
¶Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,
90Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
¶At length the sonne gazing vpon the earth,
¶The seas waxt calme, and we discouered
95Two shippes from farre, making amaine to vs:
¶Of Corinth that, of Epidarus this,
¶But ere they came, oh let me say no more,
¶Gather the sequell by that went before. ¶ Duk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so, 100For we may pitty, though not pardon thee. ¶ Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now ¶Worthily tearm'd them mercilesse to vs:
¶We were encountred by a mighty rocke,
105Which being violently borne vp,
¶So that in this vniust diuorce of vs,
¶Fortune had left to both of vs alike,
¶What to delight in, what to sorrow for,
110Her part, poore soule, seeming as burdened
¶Was carried with more speed before the winde,
¶And in our sight they three were taken vp
¶By Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
115At length another ship had seiz'd on vs,
¶And knowing whom it was their hap to saue,
¶And would haue reft the Fishers of their prey,
¶Had not their backe beene very slow of saile;
120And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
¶Thus haue you heard me seuer'd from my blisse,
¶That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
¶
Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, ¶ Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care, ¶At eighteene yeeres became inquisitiue
¶After his brother; and importun'd me
130That his attendant, so his case was like,
¶Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,
¶Might beare him company in the quest of him:
¶Whom whil'st I laboured of a loue to see,
¶I hazarded the losse of whom I lou'd.
135Fiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece,
¶Roming cleane through the bounds of Asia,
¶And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus:
¶Or that, or any place that harbours men:
¶And happy were I in my timelie death,
¶Could all my trauells warrant me they liue. ¶ Duke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt ¶To beare the extremitie of dire mishap:
¶Against my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,
¶Which Princes would they may not disanull,
¶My soule should sue as aduocate for thee:
¶But though thou art adiudged to the death,
150And passed sentence may not be recal'd
¶But to our honours great disparagement:
¶Yet will I fauour thee in what I can;
¶Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day
¶To seeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe,
155Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus,
¶Beg thou, or borrow, to make vp the summe,
¶And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die:
¶Iaylor, take him to thy custodie. ¶
Iaylor. I will my Lord. 160 Merch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend, Exeunt. ¶
Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio. ¶ Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium, 165This very day a Syracusian Marchant
¶Is apprehended for a riuall here,
¶And not being able to buy out his life,
¶According to the statute of the towne,
¶Dies ere the wearie sunne set in the West:
170There is your monie that I had to keepe. ¶ Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host, ¶And stay there Dromio, till I come to thee;
¶Within this houre it will be dinner time,
¶Till that Ile view the manners of the towne,
175Peruse the traders, gaze vpon the buildings,
¶And then returne and sleepe within mine Inne,
¶Get thee away. ¶ Dro. Many a man would take you at your word, 180And goe indeede, hauing so good a meane. ¶
Exit Dromio. ¶ Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft, ¶When I am dull with care and melancholly,
¶Lightens my humour with his merry iests:
185What will you walke with me about the towne,
¶And then goe to my Inne and dine with me? ¶ E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants, ¶Of whom I hope to make much benefit:
¶I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke,
190Please you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart,
¶And afterward consort you till bed time:
¶ Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe, ¶And wander vp and downe to view the Citie. 195
E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content. ¶
Exeunt. ¶ Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content, ¶Commends me to the thing I cannot get:
¶I to the world am like a drop of water,
200That in the Ocean seekes another drop,
¶Who falling there to finde his fellow forth,
¶(Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe.
¶So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,
¶In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe. 205
Enter Dromio of Ephesus. ¶Here comes the almanacke of my true date:
¶What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone.
¶ E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late: ¶The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit;
210The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell:
¶My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:
¶She is so hot because the meate is colde:
¶The meate is colde, because you come not home:
¶You come not home, because you haue no stomacke:
¶But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
¶Are penitent for your default to day. ¶ Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray? ¶Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you. 220
E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last, ¶
Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now: ¶ E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner: 230For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate:
¶
Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke, ¶
Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season, ¶
E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me? ¶ Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes, ¶And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. ¶
E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you frõ the Mart ¶ Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me, ¶In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie;
¶Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours
245That stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd:
¶Where is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me? ¶
E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate: ¶
Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou? ¶ E.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix; ¶She that doth fast till you come home to dinner:
255And praies that you will hie you home to dinner. ¶ Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face ¶Being forbid? There take you that sir knaue. ¶
E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your (hands: ¶Nay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.
260
Exeunt Dromio Ep. ¶ Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other, ¶The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie.
¶They say this towne is full of cosenage:
¶As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie:
265Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde:
¶Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie:
¶Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes;
¶And manie such like liberties of sinne:
¶If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner:
270Ile to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue,
¶I greatly feare my monie is not safe. Exit. ¶
Actus Secundus. ¶ Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with ¶Luciana her Sister. 275 Adr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd, ¶ Luc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him, ¶And from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:
280Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;
¶A man is Master of his libertie:
¶Time is their Master, and when they see time,
¶They'll goe or come; if so, be patient Sister. ¶
Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more? 285
Luc. Because their businesse still lies out adore. ¶
Adr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus. ¶
Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will. ¶
Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so. ¶ Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe: 290There's nothing situate vnder heauens eye,
¶But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in skie.
¶Are their males subiects, and at their controules:
¶Man more diuine, the Master of all these,
295Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas,
¶Indued with intellectuall sence and soules,
¶Are masters to their females, and their Lords:
¶Then let your will attend on their accords. 300
Adri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed. ¶
Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed. ¶
Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway ¶
Luc. Ere I learne loue, Ile practise to obey. ¶
Adr. How if your husband start some other where? 305
Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare. ¶ Adr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause, ¶They can be meeke, that haue no other cause:
¶A wretched soule bruis'd with aduersitie,
¶We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.
310But were we burdned with like waight of paine,
¶As much, or more, we should our selues complaine:
¶So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee,
¶With vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me;
¶But if thou liue to see like right bereft,
315This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left. ¶ Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie: ¶Heere comes your man, now is your husband nie. ¶
Enter Dromio Eph. ¶
Adr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand? ¶ E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare, ¶ Luc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele ¶his meaning. ¶
E.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well ¶ Adri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home? ¶It seemes he hath great care to please his wife. ¶
E.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad. ¶
Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine? 335 E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad, ¶But sure he is starke mad:
¶When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
¶He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:
¶'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:
340Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:
¶Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;
¶Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine?
¶The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:
I know quoth he, no house, ¶
Adri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home. ¶ Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home? ¶For Gods sake send some other messenger. ¶
Adri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse. 355 Dro. And he will blesse yt crosse with other beating: ¶Betweene you, I shall haue a holy head. ¶
Adri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home. ¶ Dro. Am I so round with you, as you with me, ¶That like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus:
360You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither,
¶
Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face. ¶ Adri. His company must do his minions grace, 365Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
¶From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.
¶Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit,
¶If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd,
¶Vnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard.
¶What ruines are in me that can be found,
¶By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
¶Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,
375A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire.
¶But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,
¶And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale. ¶
Luci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence. ¶ Ad. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence: 380I know his eye doth homage other-where,
¶Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
¶Sister, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
¶Would that alone, a loue he would detaine,
¶So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:
385I see the Iewell best enamaled
¶Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still
¶That others touch, and often touching will,
¶Where gold and no man that hath a name,
390Since that my beautie cannot please his eie,
¶Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die. ¶
Luci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie? ¶
Exit. ¶
Enter Antipholis Errotis. 395 Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp ¶Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull slaue
¶Is wandred forth in care to seeke me out
¶By computation and mine hosts report.
400I sent him from the Mart? see here he comes.
¶
Enter Dromio Siracusia. ¶How now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd?
¶You know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold?
¶My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,
¶That thus so madlie thou did didst answere me? ¶
S.Dro. What answer sir? when spake I such a word? ¶
E.Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halfe an howre since. 410 S.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence ¶Home to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me. ¶
Ant. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit, 415 S.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine, ¶ Ant. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me in the teeth? Beats Dro. ¶ S.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest, 420Vpon what bargaine do you giue it me? ¶
Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes 430 S.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue batte ¶
ring, I had rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows ¶
long, I must get a sconce for my head, and Insconce it ¶
to, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray ¶sir, why am I beaten? 435
Ant. Dost thou not know? ¶
S.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten. ¶
Ant. Shall I tell you why? ¶ S.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why ¶hath a wherefore. 440 Ant. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore, ¶for vrging it the second time to me. ¶
S.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of 445
Ant. Thanke me sir, for what? ¶ S.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me ¶for nothing. ¶ Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing ¶for something. But say sir, is it dinner time? 450
S.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue. ¶
Ant. In good time sir: what's that? ¶
S.Dro. Basting. ¶
Ant. Well sir, then 'twill be drie. ¶
S.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it. 455
Ant. Your reason? ¶ S.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me ¶another drie basting. ¶ Ant. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a ¶time for all things. 460 S.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so ¶chollericke. ¶
Anti. By what rule sir? ¶ S.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald ¶pate of Father time himselfe. 465
Ant. Let's heare it. ¶ S.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire ¶that growes bald by nature. ¶
Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie? ¶ S.Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer 470the lost haire of another man. ¶ Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as ¶it is) so plentifull an excrement? ¶
S.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on ¶ Ant. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire ¶then wit. ¶ S.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose ¶his haire. 480 Ant. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dea ¶lers without wit. ¶ S.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he loo ¶seth it in a kinde of iollitie. ¶
An. For what reason. 485
S.Dro. For two, and sound ones to. ¶
An. Nay not sound I pray you. ¶
S.Dro. Sure ones then. ¶
An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing. ¶
S.Dro. Certaine ones then. 490
An. Name them. ¶
S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in ¶ An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no 495time for all things. ¶ S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to re ¶couer haire lost by Nature. ¶ An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there ¶is no time to recouer. 500 S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and ¶therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers. ¶ An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft, ¶who wafts vs yonder. ¶
Enter Adriana and Luciana. 505 Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne, ¶I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
¶The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow,
¶That neuer words were musicke to thine eare,
¶That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand,
¶That neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste,
¶Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.
¶How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,
515That thou art then estranged from thy selfe?
¶Thy selfe I call it, being strange to me:
¶That vndiuidable Incorporate
¶Am better then thy deere selfes better part.
¶Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me;
¶A drop of water in the breaking gulfe,
¶And take vnmingled thence that drop againe
¶Without addition or diminishing,
¶As take from me thy selfe, and not me too.
525How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke,
¶Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious?
¶And that this body consecrate to thee,
¶Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me,
530And hurle the name of husband in my face,
¶And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow,
¶And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
¶And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow?
¶I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.
¶My bloud is mingled with the crime of lust:
¶For if we two be one, and thou play false,
¶Being strumpeted by thy contagion:
540Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,
¶ Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not: ¶In Ephesus I am but two houres old,
¶As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke,
545Who euery word by all my wit being scan'd,
¶Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand. ¶
Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you: ¶
Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him. ¶ Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman: 555What is the course and drift of your compact? ¶
S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time. ¶ Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words, ¶Didst thou deliuer to me on the Mart. ¶
S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life. 560 Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names? ¶Vnlesse it be by inspiration. ¶ Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie, ¶To counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue,
¶Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;
565Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
¶But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
¶Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine:
570Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
¶Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse,
¶Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion,
575 Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her ¶ theame;
¶What, was I married to her in my dreame?
¶Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?
¶What error driues our eies and eares amisse?
580Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie,
¶Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie. ¶
Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner. ¶ S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner. ¶This is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights,
585We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights;
¶If we obay them not, this will insue:
¶They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew. ¶ Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not? ¶Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot. 590
S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not? ¶
Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I. ¶
S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape. ¶
Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme. ¶
S.Dro. No, I am an Ape. 595
Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse. ¶
S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse. ¶ Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole, 600To put the finger in the eie and weepe;
¶Come sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate:
¶Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day,
¶And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes:
605Sirra, if any aske you for your Master,
¶Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter:
¶ Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell? ¶Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde:
610Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde:
¶Ile say as they say, and perseuer so:
¶And in this mist at all aduentures go. ¶
S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate? ¶
Adr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate. 615
Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late. ¶
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. ¶
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the ¶ Goldsmith, and Balthaser the Merchant.
¶ E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all, ¶Say that I lingerd with you at your shop
¶To see the making of her Carkanet,
¶And that to morrow you will bring it home.
¶But here's a villaine that would face me downe
625He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him,
¶And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold,
¶And that I did denie my wife and house;
¶Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this? ¶ E.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know, 630
That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show; ¶
If yr skin were parchment, & ye blows you gaue were ink, ¶ Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke. ¶
E.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse. ¶ E.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare 635By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare,
¶You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an asse. ¶ E.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer ¶ May answer my good will, and your good welcom here. 640
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer. ¶ E.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, ¶A table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish. ¶
Bal. Good meat sir is cõmon that euery churle affords. ¶ Anti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing 645 but words. ¶ Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a mer ¶ rie feast. ¶ Anti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest: ¶
But though my cates be meane, take them in good part, 650Better cheere may you haue, but not with better hart.
¶But soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs in. ¶
E.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn. ¶ S.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idi ¶ ot, Patch,
655
Either get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch: ¶
Dost thou coniure for wenches, that yu calst for such store, ¶ When one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore. ¶ E.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master 660 S.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee ¶ catch cold on's feet. ¶
E.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore. ¶ S.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell ¶ me wherefore. 665 Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to ¶ day. ¶ S.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe ¶ when you may. ¶ Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the 670 howse I owe? ¶ S.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is ¶ Dromio. ¶ E.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office ¶ and my name,
675The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame:
¶If thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place,
¶
Enter Luce. 680 Luce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those ¶ at the gate? ¶
E.Dro. Let my Master in Luce. ¶ Luce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your ¶ Master. 685
E.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Pro ¶ Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can ¶ you tell? 690 S.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast an ¶ swer'd him well. ¶ Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I ¶ hope? ¶
Luce. I thought to haue askt you. 695
S.Dro. And you said no. ¶ E.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow ¶ for blow. ¶
Anti. Thou baggage let me in. ¶
Luce. Can you tell for whose sake? 700
E.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard. ¶
Luce. Let him knocke till it ake. ¶ Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore ¶ downe. ¶ Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the 705 towne? ¶
Enter Adriana. ¶
Adr. Who is that at the doore yt keeps all this noise? ¶ S.Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with vn ¶ ruly boies. 710 Anti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come ¶ before. ¶
Adri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore. ¶ E.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold ¶ goe sore. 715 Angelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we ¶ would faine haue either. ¶ Baltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part ¶ with neither. ¶ E.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them 720 welcome hither. ¶ Anti. There is something in the winde, that we can ¶ not get in. ¶ E.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments ¶ were thin.
725
Your cake here is warme within: you stand here in the ¶ cold.
¶
It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought ¶ and sold. ¶
Ant. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate. 730 S.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your ¶ knaues pate. ¶
E.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and 735 S.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee ¶ hinde. ¶ E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let ¶ me in. ¶ S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue 740 no fin. ¶
Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow. ¶ E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so; ¶
For a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether, ¶ If a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together. 745
Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow. ¶ Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so, ¶Heerein you warre against your reputation,
¶Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.
750Once this your long experience of your wisedome,
¶Her sober vertue, yeares, and modestie,
¶Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne;
¶Why at this time the dores are made against you.
755Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,
¶And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner,
¶And about euening come your selfe alone,
¶A vulgar comment will be made of it;
¶And that supposed by the common rowt
¶That may with foule intrusion enter in,
765And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead;
¶ Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet, ¶And in despight of mirth meane to be merrie:
770I know a wench of excellent discourse,
¶Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle;
¶There will we dine: this woman that I meane
¶My wife (but I protest without desert)
¶Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:
775To her will we to dinner, get you home
¶And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made,
¶Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine,
¶For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow
¶(Be it for nothing but to spight my wife)
¶Since mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me,
¶Ile knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me. ¶
Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence. ¶
Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence. 785
Exeunt. ¶
Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia. ¶ Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot ¶Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?
790Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?
¶
Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse: ¶Or if you like else-where doe it by stealth,
¶Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator:
¶Looke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie:
¶Apparell vice like vertues harbenger:
¶Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted,
800Teach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint,
¶Be secret false: what need she be acquainted?
¶What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine?
¶'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,
¶And let her read it in thy lookes at boord:
805Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed,
¶Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word:
¶Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue
¶(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs,
810We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.
¶Then gentle brother get you in againe;
¶'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine,
815 S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I ¶ know not;
¶Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:
¶
Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not, ¶Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.
820Teach me deere creature how to thinke and speake:
¶Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit:
¶Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake,
¶The foulded meaning of your words deceit:
¶Against my soules pure truth, why labour you,
825To make it wander in an vnknowne field?
¶Are you a god? would you create me new?
¶Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld.
¶But if that I am I, then well I know,
830Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe:
¶Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline:
¶Oh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note,
¶Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote:
835Spread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires;
¶And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie:
¶And in that glorious supposition thinke,
¶He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die:
840
Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so? ¶
Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know. ¶
Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie. ¶ Ant. For gazing on your beames
faire sun being by. ¶ Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere 845 your sight. ¶
Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night. ¶
Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so. ¶
Ant. Thy sisters sister. ¶
Luc. That's my sister. 850 Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part: ¶Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart;
¶My foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime;
¶My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime. ¶
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. 855 Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee: ¶Thee will I loue, and with thee lead my life;
¶Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
¶Giue me thy hand. ¶ Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still: Exit. ¶
Enter Dromio, Siracusia. ¶ Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so ¶ fast? ¶ S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I 865 your man? Am I my selfe? ¶ Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art ¶ thy selfe. ¶ Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides ¶ my selfe. 870 Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy ¶ selfe? ¶
Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman: 875
Anti. What claime laies she to thee? ¶ Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your ¶
horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I bee ¶
ing a beast she would haue me, but that she being a ve ¶rie beastly creature layes claime to me. 880
Anti. What is she? ¶ Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man ¶
may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue ¶
but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous ¶fat marriage. 885
Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage? ¶ Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease, ¶
and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a ¶
Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I ¶
warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne 890
a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne ¶a weeke longer then the whole World. ¶
Anti. What complexion is she of? ¶
Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like ¶
Anti. That's a fault that water will mend. ¶ Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not ¶do it. ¶
Anti. What's her name? 900
Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's ¶
Anti. Then she beares some bredth? ¶
Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe ¶
Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland? ¶ Dro. Marry sir in her buttockes, I found it out by ¶the bogges. 910
Ant. Where Scotland? ¶ Dro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme ¶of the hand. ¶
Ant. Where France? ¶ Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making 915warre against her heire. ¶
Ant. Where England? ¶ Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find ¶
no whitenesse in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin ¶by the salt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it. 920
Ant. Where Spaine? ¶
Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth. ¶
Ant. Where America, the Indies? ¶ Dro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with ¶
Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich As 925
pect to the hot breath of Spaine, who sent whole Ar ¶
Anti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? ¶ Dro. Oh sir, I did not looke so low. To conclude,
if ¶ Anti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode, ¶Where I will walke till thou returne to me:
¶If euerie one knowes vs, and we know none,
¶'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone. ¶ Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life, 945So flie I from her that would be my wife. Exit ¶ Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere, ¶And therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence:
¶She that doth call me husband, euen my soule
¶Of such inchanting presence and discourse,
¶Hath almost made me Traitor to my selfe:
¶But least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong,
955
Enter Angelo with the Chaine. ¶
Ang. Mr Antipholus. ¶
Anti. I that's my name. ¶
Ang. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine, ¶
Anti. What is your will that I shal do with this? ¶ Ang. What please your selfe sir: I haue made it for ¶you. ¶
Anti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not. 965 Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you ¶haue:
¶Go home with it, and please your Wife withall,
¶And soone at supper time Ile visit you,
¶And then receiue my money for the chaine. 970 Anti. I pray you sir receiue the money now. ¶For feare you ne're see chaine, nor mony more. ¶ Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell: ¶But this I thinke, there's no man is so vaine,
975That would refuse so faire an offer'd Chaine.
¶I see a man heere needs not liue by shifts,
¶When in the streets he meetes such Golden gifts:
¶Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio stay,
Exit. 980
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima. ¶
Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer. ¶ Mar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, ¶And since I haue not much importun'd you,
¶Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
985To Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage:
¶Therefore make present satisfaction,
¶Or Ile attach you by this Officer. ¶ Gold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you, ¶Is growing to me by Antipholus,
990And in the instant that I met with you,
¶He had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke
¶I shall receiue the money for the same:
¶Pleaseth you walke with me downe to his house,
¶I will discharge my bond, and thanke you too. 995
Enter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans. ¶
Offi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes. ¶ Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou ¶
Dro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope. ¶
Exit Dromio 1005 Eph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you, ¶I promised your presence, and the Chaine,
¶But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:
¶Belike you thought our loue would last too long
¶If it were chain'd together: and therefore came not. 1010 Gold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note ¶
How much your Chaine weighs to the vtmost charect, ¶Which doth amount to three odde Duckets more
¶Then I stand debted to this Gentleman,
1015I pray you see him presently discharg'd,
¶For he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it. ¶ Anti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie: ¶Good Signior take the stranger to my house,
1020And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife
¶Disburse the summe, on the receit thereof,
¶Perchance I will be there as soone as you. ¶ Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your ¶selfe. 1025 Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time e ¶nough. ¶ Gold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about ¶you? ¶ Ant. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue: 1030Or else you may returne without your money. ¶
Gold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine: ¶
Anti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse ¶
Mar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch. ¶
Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine. 1040
Ant. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony. ¶ Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now. ¶Either send the Chaine, or send me by some token. ¶ Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath, ¶Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it. 1045
Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance, ¶
Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you. ¶
Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine. 1050
Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine. ¶
Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since. ¶ Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to ¶say so. ¶ Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it. ¶
Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite. ¶
Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer. ¶
Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite. ¶
Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile. ¶ Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus, ¶To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. ¶
Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay. ¶ Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium, 1075That staies but till her Owner comes aboord,
¶I haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought
¶The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae.
¶The ship is in her trim, the merrie winde
1080Blowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all,
¶But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe. ¶ An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep ¶
S.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage. 1085 Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope, ¶And told thee to what purpose, and what end. ¶ S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone, ¶You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke. ¶ Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure 1090And teach your eares to list me with more heede:
¶To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight:
¶Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske
¶There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it:
¶On Officer to prison, till it come. Exeunt ¶ S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd, Exit ¶
Enter Adriana and Luciana. ¶ Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so? ¶That he did plead in earnest, yea or no:
¶Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?
¶What obseruation mad'st thou in this case?
¶Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face. 1110
Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right. ¶
Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight ¶
Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere. ¶ Adr. And true
he swore, though yet forsworne hee
¶were. 1115
Luc. Then pleaded I for you. ¶
Adr. And what said he? ¶
Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me. ¶
Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue? ¶ Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue. 1120First, he did praise my beautie, then my speech. ¶
Adr. Did'st speake him faire? ¶
Luc. Haue patience I beseech. ¶ Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still. ¶My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.
1125He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
¶Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde,
¶Stigmaticall in making worse in minde. ¶ Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one? 1130No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone. ¶ Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say: ¶And yet would herein others eies were worse:
¶Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away;
¶My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse. 1135
Enter S.Dromio. ¶ Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make ¶haste. ¶
Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath? ¶
S.Dro. By running fast. 1140
Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well? ¶ S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell: ¶A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him;
¶On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:
1145A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe:
¶
A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermãds ¶The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands:
¶A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,
¶ One that before the Iudgmẽt carries poore soules to hel. 1150
Adr. Why man, what is the matter? ¶ S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on ¶the case. ¶
Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite? ¶ S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well; 1155
but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell, ¶ Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at. ¶ S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing: ¶A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring. ¶
Adria. What, the chaine? 1165 S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone: ¶ It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one. ¶
Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here. ¶ S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes ¶backe for verie feare. 1170 Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou ¶reason? ¶ S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then ¶he's worth to season.
¶Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say,
1175That time comes stealing on by night and day?
¶If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way,
¶Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day? ¶
Enter Luciana. ¶ Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight, Exit. ¶And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,
¶And therewithall tooke measure of my body.
¶Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,
¶And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here. 1195
Enter Dromio. Sir. ¶ S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what ¶haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd? 1200 S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but ¶
that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the ¶
calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that ¶
came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you for ¶sake your libertie. 1205
Ant. I vnderstand thee not. ¶ S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like ¶
a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when ¶
gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them: ¶
he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them 1210
suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more ex ¶ploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike. ¶
Ant. What thou mean'st an officer? ¶ S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings ¶
any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that 1215
thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue ¶you good rest. ¶ Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie: ¶ Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone? ¶
S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since, ¶
Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I, ¶
Enter a Curtizan. ¶
Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus: ¶
Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not. ¶
S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan? ¶
Ant. It is the diuell. ¶ S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam: 1235
And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and ¶
thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's ¶
as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is writ ¶
ten, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an ¶
effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will 1240burne, come not neere her. ¶ Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir. ¶Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here? ¶ S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake ¶a long spoone. 1245
Ant. Why Dromio? ¶ S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must ¶eate with the diuell. ¶
Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of sup (ping?¶
Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner, ¶ S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile, ¶ Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine, 1260I hope you do not meane to cheate me so? ¶
Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go. ¶ S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that ¶you know. Exit. ¶ Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad, 1265Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe,
¶A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets,
¶And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine,
¶Both one and other he denies me now:
¶The reason that I gather he is mad,
¶Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
¶Belike his wife acquainted with his fits,
1275My way is now to hie home to his house,
¶And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,
¶He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce
¶For fortie Duckets is too much to loose. 1280
Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor. ¶ An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away, ¶Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money
¶To warrant thee as I am rested for.
¶My wife is in a wayward moode to day,
¶That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
¶I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.
¶
Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end. ¶Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.
1290How now sir? Haue you that I sent you for? ¶
E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all. ¶
Anti. But where's the Money? ¶
E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope. ¶
Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope? 1295
E.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate. ¶
Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? ¶
Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you. 1300
Offi. Good sir be patient. ¶ E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduer ¶sitie. ¶
Offi. Good now hold thy tongue. ¶
E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands. 1305
Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine. ¶ E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might ¶not feele your blowes. ¶ Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and ¶so is an Asse. 1310 E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by ¶
my long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my ¶
Natiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands ¶
for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates ¶
me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with 1315
beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with ¶
it when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe ¶
from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay ¶
I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat: ¶
and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with 1320it from doore to doore. ¶ Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoole ¶master, call'd Pinch. 1325 E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or ra ¶ ther the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end. ¶
Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad? ¶
Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse: ¶
Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes. ¶
Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie. 1335 Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your ¶pulse. ¶
Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare. ¶ Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man, ¶I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen. ¶
Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad. ¶
Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule. ¶ Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers? 1345Did this Companion with the saffron face
¶Reuell and feast it at my house to day,
¶And I denied to enter in my house. ¶ Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home ¶ Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest ¶thou? ¶
Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home. 1355
Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out? ¶ Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut ¶out. ¶
Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there? ¶
Dro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there. 1360 Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and ¶scorne me? ¶
Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you. ¶
Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence? ¶ Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse, 1365That since haue felt the vigor of his rage. ¶
Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these crontraries? ¶ Pinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine, ¶And yeelding to him, humors well his frensie. ¶ Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest 1370mee. ¶ Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you, ¶By Dromio heere, who came in hast for it. ¶ Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might, ¶But surely Master not a ragge of Monie. 1375
Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets. ¶
Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it. ¶
Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did: ¶ Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse, ¶That I was sent for nothing but a rope. 1380 Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest, ¶I know it by their pale and deadly lookes,
¶They must be bound and laide in some darke roome. ¶ Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day, ¶And why dost thou denie the bagge of gold? 1385
Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth. ¶ Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold: ¶
Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both ¶ Ant. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, 1390And art confederate with a damned packe,
¶To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me:
¶But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes,
¶That would behold in me this shamefull sport. ¶ Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: 1395Hee striues. ¶ Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come ¶neere me. ¶
Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him ¶
Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks. 1400
Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou? ¶ Offi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you ¶shall not haue him. 1405
Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too. ¶
Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer? ¶ Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go, 1410The debt he owes will be requir'd of me. ¶ Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee, ¶Beare me forthwith vnto his Creditor,
¶And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it.
1415Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day. ¶
Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet. ¶
Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you. ¶ Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they ¶talke. ¶ Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me: 1425Say now, whose suite is he arrested at? ¶
Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan ¶
Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him? ¶
Adr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes? ¶
Off. Two hundred Duckets. 1430
Adr. Say, how growes it due. ¶
Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him. ¶
Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not. ¶ Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day ¶Came to my house, and tooke away my Ring,
1435The Ring I saw vpon his finger now,
¶Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine. ¶
Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it. 1440 Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, ¶and Dromio Sirac. ¶
Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe. ¶ Adr. And come with naked swords, ¶Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe. 1445
Runne all out. ¶
Off. Away, they'l kill vs. ¶
Exeunt omnes, as fast as may be, frighted. ¶
S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords. ¶ S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from 1450you. ¶
Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from ¶ Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do 1455
vs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold: ¶
me thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for ¶
the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me, ¶
I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne ¶Witch. ¶
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima. ¶
Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith. ¶
Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you, ¶
Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie? ¶ Gold. Of very reuerent reputation sir, ¶Of credit infinite, highly belou'd,
1470Second to none that liues heere in the Citie:
¶His word might beare my wealth at any time. ¶
Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes. ¶
Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe. ¶ Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke, ¶Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him:
¶Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
¶That you would put me to this shame and trouble,
¶And not without some scandall to your selfe,
1480With circumstance and oaths, so to denie
¶This Chaine, which now you weare so openly.
¶You haue done wrong to this my honest friend,
1485Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day:
¶This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it? ¶
Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it. ¶
Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too. ¶
Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it? 1490
Mar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee: ¶
Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus, ¶
Mar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine. ¶
They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others. ¶
Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad, ¶ S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house, ¶This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd. ¶
Exeunt to the Priorie. ¶
Enter Ladie Abbesse. 1505
Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither? ¶
Adr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence, ¶
Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits. 1510
Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him. ¶
Ab. How long hath this possession held the man. ¶ Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad, ¶And much different from the man he was:
¶But till this afternoone his passion
1515Ne're brake into extremity of rage. ¶ Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea, ¶Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye
¶A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men,
1520Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing.
¶Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too? ¶ Adr. To none of these, except it be the last, ¶Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home. ¶
Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him. 1525
Adr. Why so I did. ¶
Ab. I but not rough enough. ¶
Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me. ¶
Ab. Haply in priuate. ¶
Adr. And in assemblies too. 1530
Ab. I, but not enough. ¶ Adr. It was the copie of our Conference. ¶In bed he slept not for my vrging it,
¶At boord he fed not for my vrging it:
¶Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame:
1535In company I often glanced it:
¶Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad. ¶ Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad. ¶The venome clamors of a iealous woman,
¶Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.
1540It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing,
¶And thereof comes it that his head is light.
¶Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings,
¶Vnquiet meales make ill digestions,
¶Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred,
¶Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles.
¶Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
¶But moodie and dull melancholly,
¶Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire,
1550And at her heeles a huge infectious troope
¶Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
¶In food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest
¶The consequence is then, thy iealous fits
1555Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits. ¶
Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely, ¶ Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe, 1560Good people enter, and lay hold on him. ¶
Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house. ¶
Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth ¶ Ab. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary, ¶And it shall priuiledge him from your hands,
1565Till I haue brought him to his wits againe,
¶Or loose my labour in assaying it. ¶ Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, ¶ Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre, ¶Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue,
¶With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers
¶To make of him a formall man againe:
1575It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,
¶A charitable dutie of my order,
¶Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me. ¶
Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere: ¶
Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him. ¶
Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity. ¶ Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete, ¶And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers
1585Haue won his grace to come in person hither,
¶And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse. ¶ Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue: ¶Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person
¶Comes this way to the melancholly vale;
1590The place of depth, and sorrie execution,
¶Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere. ¶
Gold. Vpon what cause? ¶ Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant, ¶Who put vnluckily into this Bay
1595Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,
¶Beheaded publikely for his offence. ¶
Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death ¶
Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey. ¶
Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse ¶
Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely, 1605
Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse. ¶ Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady, ¶It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. ¶ Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husbãd, ¶Who I made Lord of me, and all I had,
1610At your important Letters this ill day,
¶That desp'rately he hurried through the streete,
¶With him his bondman, all as mad as he,
¶Doing displeasure to the Citizens,
1615By rushing in their houses: bearing thence
¶Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.
¶Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
¶Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went,
¶That heere and there his furie had committed,
1620Anon I wot not, by what strong escape
¶He broke from those that had the guard of him,
¶And with his mad attendant and himselfe,
¶Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords
¶Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs
1625Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide
¶We came againe to binde them: then they fled
¶Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them,
¶And will not suffer vs to fetch him out,
1630Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence.
¶Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command,
¶Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe. ¶ Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars ¶And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word,
¶To do him all the grace and good I could.
¶Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,
¶And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me:
¶I will determine this before I stirre. 1640
Enter a Messenger. ¶ Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe, ¶My Master and his man are both broke loose,
¶Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,
1645And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him
¶Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;
¶My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while
¶His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole:
¶And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe)
1650Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer. ¶ Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here, ¶And that is false thou dost report to vs. ¶ Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true, 1655He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,
¶To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:
¶
Cry within. ¶ Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with 1660Halberds. ¶ Adr. Ay me, it is my hus
band: witnesse you,
¶That he is borne about inuisible,
¶Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.
¶And now he's there, past thought of humane reason. 1665
Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus. ¶ E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iu (stice, ¶Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee,
¶When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke
¶Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood
¶ Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me ¶dote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio. ¶ E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against yt Woman there: ¶She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife;
1675That hath abused and dishonored me,
¶Euen in the strength and height of iniurie:
¶Beyond imagination is the wrong
¶
Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust. 1680
E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores ¶
Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so? ¶
Adr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister, ¶ Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night, ¶ Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne, 1690In this the Madman iustly chargeth them. ¶ E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say, 1695This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
¶That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
¶Could witnesse it: for he was with me then,
¶Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,
¶Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
1700Where Balthasar and I did dine together.
¶Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
¶I went to seeke him. In the street I met him,
¶And in his companie that Gentleman.
¶There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe,
1705That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,
¶Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,
¶I did obey, and sent my Pesant home
¶For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd.
1710Then fairely I bespoke the Officer
¶To go in person with me to my house.
¶
By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more ¶Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
¶
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine; 1715A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,
¶A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,
¶A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;
¶A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue,
¶Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:
1720And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
¶And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me,
¶They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,
¶And in a darke and dankish vault at home
1725There left me and my man, both bound together,
¶Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
¶I gain'd my freedome; and immediately
¶Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech
¶To giue me ample satisfaction
1730For these deepe shames, and great indignities. ¶ Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him: ¶That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out. ¶
Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no? ¶ Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere, 1735These people saw the Chaine about his necke. ¶ Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine, ¶Heard you confesse you had the Chaine of him,
¶And thereupon I drew my sword on you:
1740And then you fled into this Abbey heere,
¶From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle. ¶ E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals, ¶Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:
¶I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:
1745And this is false you burthen me withall. ¶ Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this? ¶I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:
¶If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
¶If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:
1750You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
¶Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you? ¶ E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpen ¶tine. ¶
Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring. 1755
E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her. ¶
Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere? ¶
Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace. ¶
Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hi ¶
Exit one to the Abbesse. ¶
Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word: 1765
Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt. ¶ Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus? ¶And is not that your bondman Dromio? ¶
E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir, ¶
Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me. ¶
Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you: 1775 Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know ¶me well. ¶
E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now. ¶ Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last, ¶And carefull houres with times deformed hand,
1780Haue written strange defeatures in my face:
¶But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? ¶
Ant. Neither. ¶
Fat. Dromio, nor thou? ¶
Dro. No trust me sir, nor I. 1785
Fa. I am sure thou dost? ¶ E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatso ¶euer a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him. ¶ Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity ¶Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue
1790In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne
¶Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?
¶Though now this grained face of mine be hid
¶In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow,
¶And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp:
1795Yet hath my night of life some memorie:
¶My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left;
¶My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare:
¶All these old witnesses, I cannot erre.
¶Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus. 1800
Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life. ¶
Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy ¶
Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City, ¶ Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares ¶Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus,
¶During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa:
1810I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. ¶ Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, ¶and Dromio Sir. ¶ Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much ¶wrong'd. 1815
All gather to see them. ¶
Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me. ¶
Duke. One of these men is genius to the other: 1820
S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away. ¶
E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay. ¶
S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost. ¶ S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him ¶heere? 1825 Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds, ¶And gaine a husband by his libertie:
¶Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man
¶That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia,
¶That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?
1830Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:
¶And speake vnto the same Aemilia. ¶ Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right: ¶These two Antipholus, these two so like,
¶And these two Dromio's, one in semblance:
1835Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea,
¶These are the parents to these children,
¶Which accidentally are met together. ¶
Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia, ¶ Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I, ¶And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;
¶But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth
¶By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them,
1845And me they left with those of Epidamium.
¶What then became of them, I cannot tell:
¶I, to this fortune that you see mee in. ¶
Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first. ¶
S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse. 1850
Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which. ¶
E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord ¶
E.Dro. And I with him. ¶
E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous ¶
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day? ¶
S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris. ¶
Adr. And are not you my husband? ¶
E.Ant. No, I say nay to that. 1860 S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so: ¶Did call me brother. What I told you then,
¶I hope I shall haue leisure to make good,
¶If this be not a dreame I see and heare. 1865 Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of ¶mee. ¶
S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not. ¶
E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me. ¶
Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not. 1870 Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile ¶By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not. ¶
E.Dro. No, none by me. ¶ S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you, ¶And Dromio my man did bring them me:
1875I see we still did meete each others man,
¶And I was tane for him, and he for me,
¶And thereupon these errors are arose. ¶
E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere. ¶
Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life. 1880
Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you. ¶ E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good ¶cheere. ¶ Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines ¶To go with vs into the Abbey heere,
1885And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes,
¶And all that are assembled in this place:
¶That by this simpathized one daies error
¶Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,
1890Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile
¶Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre
¶My heauie burthen are deliuered:
¶The Duke my husband, and my children both,
¶And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,
¶After so long greefe such Natiuitie. ¶
Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast. ¶ Exeunt omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and ¶two Brothers. 1900
S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord? ¶
E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt ¶
S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur. ¶ S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio. Exit ¶
S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house, ¶
E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother: ¶
S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder. ¶
E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it. ¶ S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then, ¶ E.Dro. Nay then thus: ¶
Exeunt. 1920
FINIS. |






