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To have them bound again.
Off.
Away, they'll kill us.
[Exeunt Off Adr. and Luc.
Ant. S. I see, these witches are afraid of swords.
Dro. S. She, that would be your wife, now ran
from you.

Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff1
from thence:

I long, that we were safe and sound aboard.

Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will surely do us no harm; you saw, they speak us fair,

:

Enter the Abbess.

Abb. Be quiet, people; Wherefore throng you hither?

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, give us gold methinks, they are such a gentle And much, much different from the man he was; nation, that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that But, till this afternoon, his passion claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. stay here still, and turn witch.

Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town: Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The same.

Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at
sea?

[Exe. Bury'd 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 :
Enter Merchant and 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.
Abb. Haply, in private.
Adr.

Angelo. Ang. I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you; But, I protest, he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.

Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in the city? Ang. Of very reverend reputation, sir, Of credit infinite, highly belov'd, Second to none that lives here in the city; His word might bear my wealth at any time. Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse. Ang. 'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck, Which he forswore, most monstrously, to have. Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. Signior Antipholus, I wonder much

That you would put me to this shame and trouble;
And not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance, and oaths, so to deny
This chain, which now you wear so openly:
Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend;
Who, but for staying on our controversy,
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 thee:

Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity, that thou liv'st
To walk where any honest men resort.
Ant. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me thus:
I'll prove mine honour, and mine honesty,
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand.
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
[They draw.
Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, and others.
Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake; he is
mad:-
:-

Some get within him,2 take his sword away:
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.
Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God's sake, take
a house.3
This is some priory ;-In, or we are spoil'd.
[Exeunt Ant. and Dro. to the priory.
(2) i. e. Close, grapple with him.)

(1) Baggage.

And in assemblies too.

Abb. Ay, but not enough.
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 glanced it;
Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abb. And thereof came it, that the man was mad:
The venom clamours of a jealous woman
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing;
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraid-
ings:

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
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 scared thy husband from the use of wits.

Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demeaned 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 labour in assaying 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;
(3) i. e. Go into a house.

(4) Theme,

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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 doth it 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 am sure, the duke himself in person
Comes this way to the melancholy vale,
The place of death and sorry3 execution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.
Ang. Upon what cause?

Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay

Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.

Ang. See, where they come; we will behold his
death.

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
husband,-

Whom I made lord of me and all I had,
At your important 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 orders for the wrongs I went,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot not by what strong 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.

(1) i. e. To bring him back to his senses.

(2) Part. (3) Sad. (4) Importunate. (5) 1. e. To take measures. (6) Know. (7) i. e. Successively, one after another.

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

And I to thee engag'd a prince's word,
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 broken loose,
Beaten the maids a-row,' and bound the doctor,
Whose beard they have singed 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, while
His man with scissars 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.

That he is borne about invisible:
Adr. Ah me, it is my husband! Witness you,

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, 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 bath 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.
Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors

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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
down,

Duke. Why, this is strange :-Go call the abbess hither;

1

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 will deliver me.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt. ge. 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, me But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords; Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.

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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
lain,

A mere anatomy, a mountebank,

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?
Ege. Why look you strange on me? you know
me well.

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, vil-Have written strange defeature's in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? Ant. E. Neither.

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller;
A needy, hallow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjuror;
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Criés out, I was posscss'd: then all together
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 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 didst 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 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 dined at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying:-Sirrah, what say you?
Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the
Porcupine.

Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd that ring.

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.

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ge. Dromio, nor thou? Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I. JEge. I am sure, thou dost. Dro. E. Ay, sir? but I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever a man denics, you are now bound to believe him.

Ege. Not know my voice! O, time's extremity! 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? 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, 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; 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 : I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. Enter the Abbess, with Antipholus Syracusan, and Dromio Syracusan.

Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see him. 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. Ageon, art thou not? or else his ghost? Dro. S. O, my old master! who hath bound him here?

Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,

(S) Furrowed, lined.

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