Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God's sake, take a house. This is some priory;-in, or we are spoil'd.

[Exeunt ANT. S. and DRO. S. to the Priory.

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,
And much, much different from the man he was:
But till this afternoon his passion

Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.

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

Adr.

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 therefore 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
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's 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 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;

And therefore let me have him home with me.
Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir
Till I have used 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 am sure, the duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale;

The place of death and sorry 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.

If

Ang. See where they come: we will behold his death. Luc. Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey.

Enter DUKE, attended; ÆGEON, bare-headed; with the Headsman and other Officers.

Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly,

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, anything 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.
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,
Chased 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 wars; And I to thee engag'd a prince's word,

When thou did'st 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 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 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!

That he is borne about invisible.

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 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.

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 forsworn.
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.

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.

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-faced 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, 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