Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? | But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her,

how found [I,- As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle Gave hope thou wast in being,-have preserv'd Myself, to see the issue.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.-A Hall in the DUKE's Palace.

Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Jailer, Officer, and other

Attendants.

Ege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial, to infringe our laws:

The enmity and discord, which of late [duke
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,
Who, wanting gilders* to redeem their lives,
Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their
bloods,-

Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:

Nay, more,

If any, born at Ephesus, be seen
At any Syracusan martst and fairs,
Again, If any Syracusan born,
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose;
Unless a thousand marks be levied,

To quit the penalty, and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die.
Ege. Yet this my comfort; when your words

are done,

My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the

cause

Why thou departedst from thy native home;
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Æge. A heavier task could not have been
impos'd,

Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable:

I often made

I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd,
By prosperous voyages
To Epidamnum, till my factor's death;
And he (great care of goods at random left)
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months
old,

Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear,)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was,
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons; [other,
And, which was strange, the one so like the
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon.
We came aboard:

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd.
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death;

Which, though myself would gladly have em-
brac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to
fear,

Yet, that the world may witness, that my end Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.

Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,

Narze of a coin, † Markets. Natural affection.

And this it was, for other means was none.-
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:

My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came, -0, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by what went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break
off so;

For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us!
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five

leagues,

We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst,
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike

What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seiz'd on us;

knowing whom it was their

to save,

Gave helpful welcome to their shipwrecked

guests;

And would have reft* the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
And therefore homeward did they bend their

course.

Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sor

rowest for,

Do me the favour to dilate at fuii
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest
At eighteen years
After his brother; and importun'd me,
became inquisitive [care,
That his attendant, (for his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,)
Might bear him company in the quest
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
of him:
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.

Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming cleant through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
Hopeless to find, yet loath
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
to leave unsought,
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warrant me they live.
Duke. Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have

mark'd

To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,

307

And passed sentence may not be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can:
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help :
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Jailer, take him to thy custody.
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die:-

Jail. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ægeon

wend,*

But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-A public Place.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse,
and a MERCHANT.

Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epi-
damnum,

Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day, a Syracusan merchant
And, not being able to buy out his life,
Is apprehended for arrival here;
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.
Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where

we host,

And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time:
Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
And then return, and sleep within mine inn;

Get thee away.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word,

And go indeed, having so good a mean.

When I am dull with care and melancholy,
[Exit DRO. S.
Ant. S. A trusty villain, Sir; that very oft,
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town,
And then go to my inn, and dine with me?
am invited, Sir, to certain merchants,
hope to make much benefit;

Mer. I

Of whom I

I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock,
Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,
And afterwards consort you till bed-time;
My present business calls me from you now.
Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose

And wander up and down, to view the city.
myself,
Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own con-
tent.
[Exit MERCHANT.
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own
content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
That in the ocean seeks another drop;
I to the world am like a drop of water,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So I, to find a mother, and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanack of my true date,What now? How chance, thou art return'd so soon?

Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd
too late:

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:

If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave;
I greatly fear, my money is not safe.

That in such haste I sent to seek his master!
Sure, Luciana,
Luc. Perhaps,

it is two o'clock. some merchant hath invited [dinner, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to Good sister, let us dine, and never fret: A man is master of his liberty: Time is their master; and, when they see time, They'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister. Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst | Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain ;

not feel his meaning?

Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.*

Adr. But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems, he hath great care to please his wife.

Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.

Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain?

Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure,
he's stark mad:

When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold:
'Tis dinner-time, quoth I; My gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold, quoth
he:
[he:
Will you come home? quoth I; My gold, quoth
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, vil-
lain?

The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; My gold, quoth he:
My mistress, Sir, quoth I; Hang up thy mis-
tress;

I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!
Luc. Quoth who?

Dro. E. Quoth my master:
[tress;
I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mis-
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch
him home.

Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten
home?

Would that alone alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed!
I see the jewel, best enamelled,
[still,
Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jea-
lousy!
[Excunt.

SCENE II.---The same.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.

Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave [up
Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out.
By computation, and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the mart: See here he comes.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.

How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou
mad,

That thus so madly thou didst answer me?
Dro. S. What answer, Sir? when spake I
such a word?

Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since.

Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence. [me. Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt;

And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.

Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me,

'hat like a football do you spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither:

If I last in this service, you must case me in
leather.
[Exit.
Luc. Fie, how impatience lowereth in your
face.

Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry
vein:
[me.
What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell
Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in
the teeth?

Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that,
and that.
[Beating him.
Dro. S. Hold, Sir, for God's sake: now your
jest is earnest:

Adr. His company must do his minions grace,

Upon what bargain do you give it me?
Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you,
Your sauciness will jest upon my love,

Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age the alluring beauty took

From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: And make a common of my serious hours.*

Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That's not my fault, he's master of my state:
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures: My decayed fair‡
A sunny look of his would soon repair:
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
Luc. Self-arming jealousy!-fie, beat it
hence.

Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs
dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere;
Or else, what lets|| it but he would be here?

* I. e. Scarce stand under thein.

Fair, for fairness.

|| Hinders,

When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make
sport,
[beams.
But creep in crannies, when he hides his
If you will jest with me, know my aspéct,t
And fashion your demeanour to my looks,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce.

Dro. S. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head: an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconcet it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, Sir, why am I beaten?

Ant. S. Dost thou not know?

Dro. S. Nothing, Sir; but that I am beaten.
Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?

Dro. S. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they

say, every why hath a wherefore.

* I. e. Intrude on them when you please.

+ Study my countenance.

† A sconce was a fortification,