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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
Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou liv'st [thee.
To walk where any honest men resort.

Ant. S. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus.
I'll prove mine honor and mine honesty
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand. [draw.
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. [They
Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, Courtezan, and Others.
Adr. Hold! hurt him not, for God's sake! he is

mad.

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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 different from the man he was; But, till this afternoon, his passion Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.

[sea?

Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevailing much in youthful men, Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrows is he subject to?

Adr. To none of these, except it be the last; Namely, some love, that drew him oft from home. Abb. You should for that have reprehended him. Adr. Why, so I did. Abb.

Ay, but not rough enough. Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me.

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Adr. It was the copy of our conference.

In bed, he slept not for my urging it;
At board, he fed not for my urging it;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme;
In company, I often glanc'd 1at it:
Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad:
The venom clamors of a jealous woman
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems, his sleeps were hind'red by thy railing,
And thereof comes it, that his head is light.
Thou say'st, his meat was sauc'd 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 hinder'd by thy brawls:
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair,
And at her heels a huge infectious troop

"Get within him," i. e., close, grapple with him.-"Take a house," i. e., take shelter in a house." The copy of our conference," i. e., a large part of our discourse.

Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast.
The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits
Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits.

Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean'd 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 labor in essaying 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 us'd the approved 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 him.
[Exit Abbess.
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 solemn execution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

Ang. Upon what cause?

Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, Who put unluckily into this bay Against the laws and statutes of this town, Beheaded publicly for his offence. [death. Ang. See, where they come: we will behold his Luc. Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey. Enter DUKE attended; EGEON bare-headed; 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
Whom made lord of me, and all I had, [husband,
At your fimportant 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, any thing 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.

d Substitute.-i. e., to bring him back to his senses.- Importunate.-"To take order," i. e., to take measures.

Anon, I wot not by what 'strange 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,
Chas'd 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 serv'd me in my
And I to thee engag'd a prince's word, [wars,
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 yourself.
My master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the maids ba-row, and bound the doctor,
Whose beard they have sing'd 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, and the 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! thy master 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 breath'd 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, be gone. 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 hous'd 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! O! grant me justice,

Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I dbestrid 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!

[there!

Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife, That hath abused and dishonor'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. 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, did'st 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.

"I wot not," i. e., I know not,--b" A-row," i. e., one after another; successively." Nicks him like a fool :" the heads of fools or jesters were shaved, or their hair cut close.Defended. Harlot was anciently applied to a base person among men, as well as to wantons among women.

Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, But she tells to your highness simple truth. Ang. O perjur'd woman! They are both forsworn: In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. My liege, I am fadvised 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 of him receiv'd the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not; for the which,
He did arrest me with an officer.

For certain ducats: he with none return'd.
I did obey, and sent my peasant home
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,
То 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 mere 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 slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer,
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, out-facing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd. Then, altogether
They fell upon me,

bound me, bore me thence,

And in a dark and dankish vault at home

2 They left me and my man, both bound together;
Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
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 truth, thus far I witness with him, That he dined 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 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 did'st 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 drunk 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 dined at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying.-Sirrah, what say you? [pine.

Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her, there, at the Porcu-
Cour. He did, and from my finger snatch'd that ring.

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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 I think you are all mated, or stark mad. [hither.[Exit an Attendant. Ege. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a Haply, I see a friend will save my life, [word. And pay the sum that may deliver me.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. Ege. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus, And is not that your bondman Dromio?

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

Ege. 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?

[well.

Ege. Why look you strange on me? you know me
Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now.
Ege. O grief hath chang'd 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.

Ege. Dromio, nor thou?

Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.

Ege. I am sure thou dost.

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

Ege. Not know my voice? O, time's extremity! Hast thou so crack'd 'my voice, split my poor tongue In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares? Though now this 'grained 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, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne'er saw Syracuse. I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. Enter Abbess, with ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and DROMIO of Syracuse.

Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see them. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive 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. Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghost?

"Mated," ie., confounded.- Deformed for deforming. -"Defeatures," i e., change of features.- Dromio quibbles upon the word bound.-i. e., the weak and discordant tone of my voice. Furrowed; lined.

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 Egeon, if thou be'st the man That had a wife once call'd Æmilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons. O! if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak, And speak unto the same Æmilia!

Ege. If I dream not, thou art Emilia.
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 5 story right
These two Antipholus', these two so like,
And these two Dromios, one in semblance,-
Besides his urging of 3 his wreck at sea;-
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together.
Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first.

Ant. S. No, sir, not I: I came from Syracuse.
Duke. Stay, stand apart: I know not which is which.
Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.
Dro. E. And I with him.
[warrior,

Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.

Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.

Adr. And are not you my husband?
Ant. E. No; I say nay to that.

Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so;
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,
Did call me brother.-What I told you then,
I hope, I shall have leisure to make good,
If this be not a dream I see, and hear.

Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Ant. S. I think it be, sir: I deny it not.
Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.
Ang. I think I did, sir: I deny it not.
Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
By Dromio; but I think, he brought it not.
Dro. E. No, none by me.

Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received 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 these errors all arose.

Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. Duke. It shall not need: thy father hath his life. Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Ant. E. 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 assembled in this place, That by this sympathized one day's error Have suffered wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction. Twenty-five years have I been gone in travail Of you, my sons; and at this present hour My heavy burdens are delivered.The duke, my husband, and my children both, And you the calendars of their nativity,

The morning story is the story that Egeon tells the Duke in the first scene of the play.-hi e., the two Dromios.

Go to a gossip's feast, and go with me: After so long grief such nativity! Duke. With all my heart: I'll gossip at this feast. [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, GEON, Courtezan, Merchant, ANGELO, and Attendants. Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from ship board? [barked? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou emDro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. [Dromio: Ant. S. He speaks to me.-I am your master, Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon. Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.

1[Exeunt ANT. S. and E., ADR., and Luc.

Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house, That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner: She now shall be my sister, not my wife. [brother: Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not my I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. Will you walk in to see their gossiping? Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. Dro. E. That's a question: how shall we try it? Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then, lead thou first.

Dro. E. Nay, then thus:

We came into the world, like brother and brother; And now, let's go hand in hand, not one before another [Exeunt.

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SCENE I.-Before LEONATO's House.

Enter LEONATO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others, with a Gentleman.

Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.

Gent. He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this

action?

Gent. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honor on a young Florentine, called Claudio.

Gent. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how.

Leon. He hath an uncle, here in Messina, will be very much glad of it.

Gent. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.

Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Gent. In great a measure.

Leon. A kind overflow of kindness.

There are

no faces truer than those that are so washed: how much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping?

Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned from the wars, or no?

Gent. I know none of that name, lady: there was none such in the army of any sort.

Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?

Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua.

a "In great measure," i. e., in abundance. Montanto was one of the ancient terms of the fencing-school: a title humorously given to one whom she would represent as a bravado. -Rank.

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