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
[mand,
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy com-
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for
help.

hence.

Duke. Long since, thy husband serv'd me in

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 scissars nicks himt 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; ily, be gone.
Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing:

Guard with halberts.

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 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.

I. e. Successively, one after another. + I. e. Cuts his hair close.

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 befall 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 perjur'd woman! They are both for

sworn.

In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. 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, [down,
There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me
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.
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
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, [villain,
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, outfacing 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
There left me and my man, both bound to-
gether;

Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech
For these deep shames and great indignities.
To give me ample satisfaction
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

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, call'd Anti

pholus?

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

And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeaturest 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 extre-
mity!
[tongue,

Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor
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 lamp 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,

321

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 :
see, thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the ABBESS, with ANTIPHOLUS Syracusan, and DROMIO Syracusan.

bonds,

And gain a husband by his liberty:-
Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be'st the man
That had'st a wife once call'd Emilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons:
O, if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak,
And speak unto the same Emilia!

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 Antiphol uses, these two so like,
And these two Dromios, one in semblance,-
Besides her urging of her 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 gra cious lord.

Dro. E. And I with him.

Ant. E. Brought to this town with that mos'

famous warrior

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 you not 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.

*The morning story is what Egeon tells the Duke in the first scene of this play

Rr

of me.

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 are 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. Ē. There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer.

Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the To go with us into the abbey here, [pains And hear at large discoursed all our for

tunes:

And all that are assembled in this place, That by this sympathized one day's error Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons; nor, till this present hour, My heavy burdens are delivered :

The duke, my husband, and my children both, And you the calendars of their 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 shipboard?

Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?

Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, Sir, in the Centaur.

Ant. S. He speaks to me; I am your master, Dromio:

Come, go with us: we'll look to that anon: Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him. [Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS 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.
Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not
my brother:

I see by you, I am a sweet-faced youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossipping?
Dro. S. Not I, Sir; you are my elder.

Dro. E. That's a question: how shall we try it?

Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior: till then, lead thou first.

3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun. 1 Witch. Where the place?

2 Witch. Upon the heath:

3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.
1 Witch. I come, Graymalkin!
All. Paddock calls :-Anon.-

Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

[WITCHES vanish.

Show'd like a rebel's whore: But all's too weak:

[name,) Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel, For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that Which smok'd with bloody execution, Like valour's minion,

Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave; And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the [chaps, And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

him,

Dun. O, valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break; [come, So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:

Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd, heels;

But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault.

Dun. Dismay'd not this

Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
Sold. Yes;

As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth,t I must report they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks;
So they

Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,+

I cannot tell :

But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. Dun. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds;