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(When thou didst make him mafter of thy bed,)
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go, fome of you, knock at the abbey-gate;
And bid the lady abbefs come to me.
I will determine this, before I ftir.

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Enter a Messenger.

Mistress, miftrefs, fhift and fave yourself; My master and his man are both broke loofe,


Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor,
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 send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Adr. Peace, fool, thy mafter and his man are here,
And that is false, thou doft report to us.
Meff. Miftrefs, upon my life, I tell you true;
I have not breath'd almost, since I did fee it.
and vows if he can take you,
crys for you,
To fcotch your face, and to disfigure you.

[Cry 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; witness 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 reason,


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Enter Antipholis, and Dromio of Ephesus.

É. Ant.


USTICE, moft gracious Duke, oh, grant
me justice.

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. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
1 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+
That hath abused and dishonour'd me,
Ev'n in the strength and height of injury.
Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That fhe this day hath fhameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
E. Ant. This day, great Duke, she shut the doors

upon me;

Whilst she with harlots feafted in my house.

Duke. A grievous fault; say, woman, didst thou so?
Adr. No, my good lord: myself, he and my fifter,
To day did dine together: fo befal my foul,
As this is falfe, he burdens me withal!

Luc. Ne'er
may I look on day, nor fleep on night,
But he tells to your highness simple truth!
Ang. O, perjur'd woman! they are both forfworn.
In this the mad-man juftly chargeth them..

E. Ant. My Liege, I am advised, what I say.
Neither difturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor, hardy-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;

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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 seek him; in the ftreet 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 peasant home
For certain ducats; he with none return'd.
Then fairly I befpoke the officer,

Το in perfon with me to my


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 villian,
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 pulse,
And with no-face, as 'twere, out-facing me,
Cries out, I was poffeft. 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 afunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately

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

For thefe deep thames and great indignities.

Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness 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.


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


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 goldsmith here
Denies that faying. Sirrah, what fay you?

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


Cour. He did, and from my finger fnatch'd that

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

I think, you are all mated, or stark mad.


[Exit one to the Abbess.


Egeon. MOST mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak


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?

e. And is not that your bond-man Dromio?

E. Dro. Within this hour I was his bond-man,


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But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords;
Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound.

Egeon. I am fure, you both of you remember me.
E. Dro. Ourfelves 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 strange on me? you know me well.

E. Ant. I never fay you in my life, 'till now.
Egeon. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, fince

me laft;

you faw

And careful hours with time's deformed hand
Have written strange defeatures in my face;
But tell me yet, doft thou not know

E. Ant. Neither.

Egeon. Dromio, nor thou?

E. Dro. No, truft me, Sir, nor I.
Ægeon. I am fure, thou doft.

my voice?

E. Dro. I, Sir? but I am fure, I do not: and whatfoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

Ægeon. Not know my voice! oh, time's extremity! Haft thou fo crack'd and fplitted my poor tongue In feven fhort 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 drizzled fnow, And all the conduits of 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.

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