« PředchozíPokračovat »
with my teeth my bonds afunder,
Ang. My lord, in truth, 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 faw 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
first forswore it on the mart;
E. Ant. I never came within these abbey-walls,
Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
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
hither; I think, you are all mated,* or stark mad.
[Exit one to ibe Abbess, • mated,] i, e, confused,
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, sir, callid 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 saw
E. Ant. Neither.
E. Dro. Ay, fir? but I am sure, I do not ; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. Ægeon. Not know my voice! Oh, time's extre
mity! 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.] Difiature is the privative of feature, The meaning is, time hath cancelled my features. JOHNSON.
Tho' now this grained face of mine be hid
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years
[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 ;
All these HOLD witnesis I cannot err,
WARBURTON. The old reading is the trae 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, accuflon'd ones, which are therefore less likely to err. STIFYENS.
S. Dro. I, sir, am Dromio; command him away.
Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right: These two Antipholis's, these two so like, And those two Dromio's, one in semblance ; Besides her urging of her wreck at sea, These plainly are the parents of these children, Which accidentally are met together.
Ægeon. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia;
Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he and I,
Duke. Antipholis, thou cam'ft from Corinth first.
lord. E. Dro. And I with him. E. ant. Brought to this town by that most famous
warrior, Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle,
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
S. Ant. And so do I, yet she did call me so:
Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
S. Ant. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me : I see, we still did meet each other's man, And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, And thereupon thefe Errors all arose.
E. Ant. These ducats pawn I for my father here. Duke. It shall not need, 4 thy father hath his life. Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from
you. E. Ant. There, take it ; and much thanks for my
good cheer. Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here, And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes : And all that are assəmbled in this place, That by this sympathized one day's Error Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company, And ye shall have full satisfaction. s Twenty-five years have I but gone in travel
S T wenty-five years -] In former editions,
Thirty-three years. 'Tis impoflible the poet could be so forgetful, as to design this num