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Adr. Ay me, it is my husband; witness you, That he is borne about invisible ! Even now we hous’d him in the abbey here, And now he's there, past thought of human reason.

Enter Antipholis and Dromio of Ephesus. E. Ant. 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 fave thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. Ægeon. Unless the fear of death doch make me

dote, I fee

my son Antipholis, and Dromio. E. Ant. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman

there :
She whom thou gav'st to me to be my
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.
E. Ant. This day, great Duke, she shut the doors

upon me, Whilft she with harlots feafted in


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 nigiit, But she tells to your highness simple truth!

Ang. O perjur'd woman! They are both forsworn. In this the mad-man juftly chargerh them.

E. Ant.


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E. Arit. My liege, I am advised, what I say: Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine, Nor, heady-rash, provok'd 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 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 perjur'd goldsmith swear me down, That I this day from him receiv'd 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. 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-fac'd villain, A meer anatomy, a mountebank, A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man. This pernicious Nave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer ; And, gazing in my eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no-face, as it were, out-facing me, Cries out, I was poffefs'd. Then altogether They fell upon nie, bound me, bore me thence ; And in a dark and dankish vault at home. There left me and my man, both bound together ; Į


'Till gnawing


teeth my bonds asunder,
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 cruth, thus far I witness with him ;
That he din'd 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.

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 fed into this abbey here,
From whence, I think, you are come by miracle.

E. Ant. I never came within these abbey-walls,
Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I never saw the chain, fo 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 hous'd him, here he would have been ;
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly :-
You say, he din’d at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you ?
E. Dro. Sir, he din’d with her there, at the Porcu-

pine. Cour. Hedid, and from my finger snatch'd that ring. E. Ant. '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

hicher; I think, you are all mated,* or stark mad.

[Exit one to the Abbess, mated,] i. e, confused,



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Ægeon. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak

a word; Haply, I see a friend, will save my life; And pay the fum that may deliver me.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.

Ægeon. Is not your name, fir, cali’d Antipholis ? And is not that your bondman Dromio ?

E. Dro. Within this hour I was his bond-man, fir, But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords ; Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound,

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

E. Dro. 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? Ægeon. Why look you strange on me? you know

me well. E. Ant. I never saw you in my life, 'till now. Ægeon. Oh! grief hath chang’d me, since you

faw me last; And careful hours, with time's deformed hand Have written · strange defeatures in my face : But tell me yet, doft thou not know my voice?

E. Ant. Neither.
Ægeon. Dromio, nor thou?
E. Dro. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
Ægeon. I am sure, thou dost.

E. Dro. Ay, sir? but I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to be lieve him.

Ægeon. Not know my voice! Oh, time's extre


Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue,
In seven short years, that here my only son
Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares?

Strange defeatures.] D:fi ature is the privative of features The meaning is, time hath cancelled my features. Johnson.


Tho' now this grained face of mine be hid
In fap.consuming winter's drizled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood frozé up,
Yet hath my night of life some memory,
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear :
3 All these old witnefles, (I cannot err)
Tell me thou art iny fon Antipholis.

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

Ægeon. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou knoweit, we parced : but, perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. E. Ant. 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, Syraculan, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholis, During which time he ne'er saw Syracufa: I fee, thy age and dangers make thee doat. Enter the Abbess, with Antipholis Syracufan and Dromia

Syracusan. Abb. Molt mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong'd.

[ All gather to see him. Adr. I'fee two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me,

Duke. One of these men is genius to the other;
And fo of these: Which is the natural man,
And which the spirit ? who deciphers them?
3 All ibofe OLD witneles, I cannot 'err,] I believe fhould read,

All these HOLD witnesis I cannot err, i.e. all these continue to testify that I cannot err, and tell me, &c.

WARDURTON. The old reading is the true one, as well as the most poetical. The words I cannot err should be thrown into a parenthesis. By old witnesses I believe he means experienced, accuflom'd ones, which are therefore lets likely to'err, STIEVENS.

S. Dro.


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