Dro. E.Will you be bound for nothing? Be mad, Good master; cry, the devil.

Luc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk! Adr. Go, bear him hence. Sister, go you with me.

[Exeunt PINCH and Assistants, with ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and DROMIO of Ephesus.

Say now, whose suit is he arrested at?

Offi. One Angelo, a goldsmith: do you know him?

Adr. I know the man. What is the sum he owes? Offi. Two hundred ducats.

Adr.

Say, how grows it due?

Offi. Due for a chain your husband had of him. Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not.

Cour. When as your husband, all in rage, to-day

Came to my house and took away my ring (The ring I saw upon his finger now), Straight after did I meet him with a chain.

Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it.— Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is; I long to know the truth hereof at large.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, with his rapier drawn, and DROMIO of Syracuse.

Luc. God, for thy mercy! they are loose again. Adr. And come with naked swords; let's call more help,

To have them bound again.
Offi.

Away; they'll kill us!

[Exeunt Officer, ADRIANA, and LUCIANA. Ant. S. I see these witches are afraid of swords. Dro. S. She that would be your wife, now ran from you.

Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence:

I long that we were safe and sound aboard. Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold. Methinks they are such a gentle nation, that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here still, and turn witch.

Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the

town; Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. [Exeunt.

SCENE I-A public Place.

Enter Merchant and ANGELO.

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

Mer. How is the man esteemed here in the city?
Ang. Of very reverend 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.
Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS 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, 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:
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 chain you had of me; can you deny it?

Ant. S. I think I had: I never did deny it.
Mer. Yes, that you did, sir; and forswore it too.
Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?
Mer. These ears of mine, thou knowest, did
hear thee.

Fie on thee, wretch! 't is pity that thou liv'st
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
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand.
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
[They draw.

Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, Courtesan, 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 sake, take a house.

This is some priory: in, or we are spoiled. [Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and DROMIO of Syracuse, to the Priory.

Enter the Abbess.

Abb. Be quiet, people: 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.
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, sad, And much, much 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

In

company, I often glancéd it ;

Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad: The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing: And therefore comes it that his head is light. Thou say'st his meat was sauced 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 hindered by thy
brawls:

Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue
But moody and dull Melancholy
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless Despair);
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest,
To be disturbed, would mad or man or beast:
The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits
Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.
Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly,
When he demeaned himself rough, rude, and
wildly.-

Why bear you these 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 approvéd 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 [Exit Abbess.

him.

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, And take perforce my husband from the Abbess.

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.

Ang. Upon what cause?

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.

Ang. See where they come; we will behold

his death.

Luc. Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey.

Enter DUKE, attended; ÆGEON, bareheaded; with the Headsman and other Officers. 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. Adr. 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. Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, 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 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, anything 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 escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him ;
And, with his mad attendant and himself,
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.
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.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift and save your

self!

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, while
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool:
And sure,
unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.
Adr. Peace, fool, thymaster and his man are here;
And that is false thou dost report to 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 your face, and to disfigure you:

[Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress; fly, begone! Duke. Come, stand by me; fear nothing.Guard with halberds.

Adr. Ah 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 and DROMIO of Ephesus.
Ant. E. Justice, most gracious Duke! Oh,
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.
Ege. 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 gav'st to me to be my wife:
That hath abuséd and dishonoured 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 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 did dine together. So befal 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.

Ang. O perjured woman! they are both for

sworn.

In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. My liege, I am adviséd 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 locked me out this day from dinner:
That goldsmith there, were he not packed 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 Porcupine,
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 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 returned.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,

Το

go in person with me to my house. By the way we met

My wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vile confederates. Along with them
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 't were, outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possessed. Then altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence;
And in a dark and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gained 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 locked 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.

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 this is false you burden me withal.

Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
I think you all have drank 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
Porcupine.

Cour. He did, and from my finger snatched 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.

[Exit an Attendant.

Ege. 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. Ege. Is not your name, sir, called Antipholus? And is not that your bondman, Dromio?

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

Æge. I am sure you both 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? Ege. Why look you strange on me? You know me well.

Ant. E. I never saw you in my life till now. Ege. Oh! grief hath changed me since you saw me last;

And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand, Have written strange defeatures in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? Ant. E. Neither.

Though now this grainéd 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 some fading glimmer left,
My dull, deaf ears a little use to hear:
All these old witnesses (I cannot err)
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus.

Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. Ege. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know'st we parted; but perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st 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, Syracusan, 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.
Re-enter the Abbess, with ANTIPHOLUS of Syra-
cuse, and DROMIO of Syracuse.

Abb. Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wronged. [All gather to see him. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes de

ceive me.

Duke. One of these men is genius to the other; And so of these: which 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 beest the man
That hadst a wife once, called Æmilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons:
O, if thou beest the same Ægeon, speak,
And speak unto the same Æmilia!

Ege. 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 morning story right. These two Antipholuses, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance,Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,—