Whofe beard they have fing'd off with brands of fire;
And ever as it blaz'd, they threw on him

Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair;
My mafter preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with fciffars nicks him like a fool :
And, fure, unless you fend fome prefent help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Adr. Peace, fool, thy mafter and his man are here, And that is falfe thou doft report to us.

Me. Miftrefs, upon my life, I tell you true;

I have not breath'd almoft fince I did fee it.
He cries for you, and vows if he can take you,
To scotch your face, and to disfigure you.

[Gry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, miftrefs; fly, be gone. Duke. Come, ftand by me, fear nothing: guard with halberds.

Adr. Ay me, it is my husband; witnefs you,

That he is borne about invisible!

Ev'n now we hous'd him in the abbey here,

And now he's there, paft thought of human reafon.

Enter Antipholis and Dromio of Ephefus. E. Ant. Juftice, moft gracious Duke, oh, grant me juftice.

Even for the fervice that long fince I did thee,
When I beftrid thee in the wars, and took
Deep fears to fave thy life, even for the blood
That then I loft for thee, now grant me juftice.
Egeon. Unlefs the fear of death doth make me doat,
I fee my fon Antipholis and Dromio.

E. Ant. Juftice, fweet Prince, against that woman there :

She whom thou gav'ft to me to be my wife
e;

That hath abufed ånd difhonour'd me,

Ev'n in the strength and height of injury.

Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That the this day hath fhameless thrown on me.

Duke. Discover how, and thou fhalt find me juft.

E. Ant. This day, great Duke, fhe fhut the doors

upon me;

Whilft fhe with harlots feafted in my houfe.

Duke. A grievous fault; fay, woman, didft thou fo? Adr. No, my good Lord: myself, he, and my fifter, To-day did dine together: fo befal my foul, -As this is false he burdens me withal !

Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor fleep on night, But fhe tells to your Highness fimple truth!

Ang. O perjur'd woman! they are both forfworn.
In this the madman juftly chargeth them.

E. Ant. My Liege, I am advised what I fay.
Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor, heady-rash, provok'd with raging ire;
Albeit my wrongs might make one wifer mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That goldfmith 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,
Promifing to bring it to the Porcupine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to feek him; in the street I met him,
And in his company that gentleman.

There did this perjur'd goldfmith fwear me down,
That I this day from him receiv'd the chain,
Which, God he knows, I faw not; for the which
He did arreft me with an officer.

I did obey, and fent my peafant home

For certain ducats; he with none return'd.

Then fairly I bespoke the officer,

Το go in perfon with me to my house.

By th' way we met my wife, her fifter, and
A rabble more of vile confederates :

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, fharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man.' This pernicious flave,
Forfooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in my eyes, feeling my pulfe,
And with no face, as 'twere, out-facing me,

Cries out, I was poffefs'd. Then all together
They fell upon mc, bound me, bore me thence;
And in a dark and dankifh vault at home

There left me and my man, both bound together,
Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds afunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately.

Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech
To give me ample fatisfaction

For thefe deep thames and great indignities.

Ang. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnefs with him; That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out. Duke. But had he fuch a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my Lord; and when he ran in here, Thefe people faw the chain about his neck.

Mer. Befides, I will be fworn, thefe ears of mine Heard you confefs, you had the chain of him, After firft forfwore it on the mart;

you

And thereupon I drew my fword on you ;
And then you fled into this abbey here,
From whence I think you're come by miracle.

E. Ant. I never came within these abbey-walls,
Nor ever didft thou draw thy fword on me ;
I never faw the chain, fo help me heav'n!
And this is falfe 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 fo coldly:
You fay, he din'd at home; the goldfmith here
Denies that faying. Sirrah, what fay you?

;

E. Dro. Sir, he din'd with her there at the Porcupine.

Cour. He did, and from my finger fnatch'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 fure, my Liege, as I do fee your Grace. Duke. Why, this is ftrange; go call the Abbefs hi

ther:

I think you are all mated or stark mad.

[Exit one to the Abbess.

Egeon. Moft mighty Duke, vouchfafe me speak `a

word:

Haply I fee a friend will fave my life,
And pay the fum that may deliver me.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracufan, what thou wilt. Egeon. Is not your name, Sir, call'd Antipholis ? And is not that your bondman Dromio ?

E. Dro. 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.

Ægeon. I

am fure 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?

Egeon. Why look you ftrange on me? you know me

well.

E. Ant. I never faw you in life till now.

my

Egeon. Oh! grief hath chang'd me fince you faw

me laft

t;

And careful hours with Time's deformed hand

Have written ftrange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

E. Ant. Neither.

Egeon. Dromio, nor thou?

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

-Egeon. I am sure thou doft.

E. Dro. I, Sir; but I am fure I do not: and whatfoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. Egeon. Not know my voice! Oh, Time's extremity! Haft thou fo crack'd and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years, that here my only fon Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares? 'Tho' now this grained face of mine be hid In fap-confuming winter's drizłed fnow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up; • Yet hath my night of life fome memory; My wafting lamp fome fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little ufe to hear : • All these hold witneffes I cannot err, • Tell me thou art my fon Antipholis.'

E. Ant. I never faw

my father in my

life.

Egeon. But feven years fince, in Syracufa bay, Thou know'ft, we parted; but, perhaps, my fon, Thou fham'ft t'acknowledge me in mifery.

E. Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the city, Can witness with me that it is not fo:

I ne'er faw Syracufa in

my

life.

Duke. I tell thee, Syracufan, twenty years
Have I been patron to Antipholis,

During which time he ne'er faw Syracufa :
I fee, thy age and dangers make thee doat.

Enter the Abbefs, with Antipholis Syracufan, and Dromio Syracufan.

wrong'd.

Abb. Moft mighty Duke, behold a man much
[All gather to fee him.
Adr. I fee two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.
Duke. One of these men is genius to the other;
And fo of thefe which is the natural man,
And which the spirit? who decyphers them?

S. Dro. I, Sir, am Dromio; command him away.
E. Dro. I, Sir, am Dromio; pray let me ftay.
S. Ant. Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghoft?
S. Dro. O, my old mafter! who hath bound him
here?

Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds;
And gain a husband by his liberty.

Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be'ft the man,

That hadft a wife once call'd Æmilia,

That bore thee at a burden two fair fons ?
Oh, if thou be'ft the fame Ægeon, speak;
And speak unto the fame Emilia.

Duke. Why, here begins his morning-ftory right:
These two Antipholis's, these two so like,

And those two Dromio's, one in femblance;

Befides her urging of her wreck at sea,

These plainly are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together.

Egeon. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia;
If thou art fhe, tell me where is that fon