Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

Dear life redeems you. You perceive, she stirs ;
[HERMIONE comes down from the pedestal.
Start not : her actions shall be holy, as,
You hear, my spell is lawful: do not shun her,
Until you see her die again; for then
You kill her double; Nay, present your hand:
When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in age,

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't; lest your | Is she become the suitor.

May think anon, it moves.

Leon.

[fancy

Let be, let be.

[blocks in formation]

Leon. O, she's warm!
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.

Pol.

[Embracing her.

She embraces him.

[blocks in formation]

Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but And from your sacred vials pour your graces

I could afflict you further.

[blocks in formation]

Upon my daughter's head ! - Tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? how

found

Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I,—
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope thou wa n being,-have preserv'd
Myself, to see the issue.

Paul.

There's time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,

So long could I Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there
My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.

Either forbear,
Quit presently the chapel; or resolve you
For more amazement: If you can behold it,
I'll make the statue move indeed; descend,
And take you by the hand: but then you'll think,
(Which I protest against,) I am assisted
By wicked powers.

Leon.

What you can make her do,
I am conten' to look on : what to speak,
I am content to hear: for 'tis as easy

To make her speak, as move.

Paul.

It is requir'd,

[blocks in formation]

This play, as Dr. Warburton justly observes, is, with all its absurdities, very entertaining. The character of Autolycus is naturally conceived, and strongly represented.-JOHNSON. Warburton is not guilty of a criticism so frigid as Johnson has represented.-11is words are

"This play, throughout, is written in the very spirit of its author. And in telling this homely and simple, though agreeable, country tale,

Our sweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child,
Warbles his native wood-notes wild.
This was necessary to observe in mere justice to the play; as
the meanuess of the fable, and the extravagant conduct of it, had

Leon.
O peace, Paulina ;
Thou should'st a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine. a wife : this is a match,
And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;
But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her,
As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many
A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far
(For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee
An honourable husband :-Come, Camillo,
And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty,
Is richly noted; and here justified

By us, a pair of kings.-Let's from this place.-
What?-Look upon my brother :-both your pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks

My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,)
Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away.

[Exeunt

misled some of great name into a wrong judgment of its merits which, as far as it regards sentiment and character, is scarce in ferior to any in the whole collection."

The persons of great name to whom Warburton alludes art Dryden and Pope. The former of whom mentions this play with no great indulgence, in the Essay at the end of the secand part of the Conquest of Grenada; while the latter, in the preface to his edition of our author's works, is rash enough to class it with Love's Labour's Lost, the Comedy of Errors, and i'itus Andronicus, as one of the plays, in which Shakspeare had produced only some characters, or single scenes, or perhaps a few particular passages.

THIS play, of which the first edition was that of the folio 1623, is mentioned by Meres in 1528, and exhibits interna! proofs of having been one of Shakspeare's earliest productions. A translation of the Menachmi of Plautus by W. W (i. e. according to Ward, William Warner) was published in 1595, and may have afforded the ground work of the present comedy.

[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.-A Hall in the Duke's Palace. Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.

Ege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial, to infringe our laws :
The enmity and discord, which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,-
Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives,
Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their bloods,
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns :
Nay, more,

If any, born at Ephesus, be seen
At any Syracusan marts and fairs,
Again, If any Syracusan born,

Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the duke dispose;
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty, and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by the law thou art condemn'd to die.
Ege. Yet this my comfort; when your words are
My woes end likewise with the evening sun. [done,
Duke. Well, Syracusan, say in brief the cause
Why thou departedst from thy native home;
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Age. A heavier task could not have been impos'd,
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable :
Yet, that the world may witness, that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born; and wed

Unto a woman, happy but for me,

And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd,
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, till my factor's death,
And he (great care of goods at random left)
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse
From whom my absence was not six months old.
Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear,)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was.
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;

And, which was strange. the one so like the other
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered

Of such a burden, male twins, both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon.
We came aboard

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds

[ocr errors]

A doubtful warrant of immediate death;
Which, though my would gladly have embrac❜d,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come.
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was,-for other means was none.-
The sailors sought for safety by our boit,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:
My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms:
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I.
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came,-, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so, For we may pity, though not pardon thee.

Age. O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily term'd them merciless to us!

For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;

Which being violently borne upon,

Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst,
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seiz'd on us;
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests;
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return, and sleep within mine iun;
For with long travel 1 am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit DRO. §. Aut. S. A trusty villain, sir; that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn, and dine with me?

Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit; I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, And afterwards consort you till bed-time; My present business calls me from you now. Ant. S. Farewell till then I will go lose myself,

:

Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, And wander up and down to view the city. Do me the favour to dilate at full

What hath befall'u of them, and thee, till now.

Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,

At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother; and impórtun'd me,
That his attendant, (for his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,)
Might bear him company in the quest of him:
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.
Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought,
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warrant me they live.
Duke. Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have mark'd
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can :
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help:
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus:
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die :-
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.

Gael. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ægeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-A public Place.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and a Merchant.

Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epidamnum, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day a Syracusan merchant Is apprehended for arrival here;

And, not being able to buy out his life,

According to the statute of the town,

There is your money that I had to keep.

Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.

Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content.
[Exit Merchant.
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.

I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the ocean seeks another drop;
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So 1, to find a mother, and a brother
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanac of my true date.-
What now? How chance, thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too late:
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

Aut. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray; Where have you left the money that I gave you!

Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last, To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ;The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not.

Aut. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine own custody?

Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner. I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed; For she will score your fault upon my pate. Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger.

Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of Reserve them till a merrier hour than this: [season: Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

Dro. E. To me, sir? why you gave no gold to me.
Ant. S. Come on, sir knave; have done your fool

ishness,

And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner;
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.

Ant. S. Now, as I am a christian, answer me,

Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money;

And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time:

Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd:

Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?
Dro. E. 1 have some marks of yours upon my pate,
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both.—
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave,
hast thou?
[Phoenix ;
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the
She that doth fast, till you come home to dinner,
And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.
Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.

Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God's sake, hold
your hands:

Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other,
The villain is o'er-raught of all my money.
They say, this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin :
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave;
I greatly fear, my money is not safe.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-A public Place.

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

[Exit.

Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd, That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.

Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner.
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret.
A man is master of his liberty:

Time is their master; and, when they see time,
They'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister.

Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more?
Luc. Because their business still lies out o'door.
Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled so.
Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe.
There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
Men, more divine, the masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of moro pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adr. This servitude takes you to keep unwed. Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. Adr. But, were you wedded you would bear some Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. [sway. Adr. How if your husband start some other where? Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she They can be meek, that have no other cause. [pause; A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain: So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me :

But, if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try :Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.

Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and that [his mind? my two ears can witness. Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear; Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning?

Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.

Adr. But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn.mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain? [stark mad Dro. E. I mean not cuckold mad; but, sure, he's When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: 'Tis dinner time, quoth 1; My gold, quoth he: Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold, quoth he Will you come home? quoth I; My gold, quoth he Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain? The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; My gola, quoth he My mistress, sir, quoth I; Hang up thy mistress.; I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress! Luc. Quoth who?

Dro. E. Quoth my master:

I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress ;
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.

Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home, Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home › For God's sake send some other messenger.

Adr. Back, slave, or I wil! break thy pate across. Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other Between you 1 shall have a holy head. [beating:

Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy niaster home. Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.

[ocr errors]

Luc. Fye, how impatience lowreth in your face Adr. His company must do his minions grace.. Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it; Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not my fault, he's master of my state: What ruins are in me, that can be found By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground of my defeatures: My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair: But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.

Luc. Self-harming jealousy!-fye, bear it hence. Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; ᄂ Or else, what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know, he promised me a chain ;Would that alone alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see the jewel, best enamelled,

[blocks in formation]

Enter ANTIPUOLUS of Syracuse.
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio, is laid up
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave
Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out.
By computation, and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the mart: See, here he comes.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
How now, sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me?

Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I such a word?
dut. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since.
Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence,
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt;
And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.

Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein : What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me. Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth? Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that. [Beating him.

Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake: now your jest Upon what bargain do you give it me? [earnest : Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours. When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams. If you will jest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanour to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce. Dro. S. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head: an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray sir, why am I beaten? Ant. S. Dost thou not know?

Dro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. Ant. S. Shall I tell you why? Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore.

Ant. S. Why, first, — for flouting me; and then, For urging it a second time to me. [wherefore, Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season?

When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither rhyme Well, sir, I thank you. [nor reason?

Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what? Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you no. thing for something. But, say, sir, is it dinner-time? Dro. S. No, sir; I think the meat wants that I have. Ant. S. In good time, sir, what's that? Dro. S. Basting.

Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry.

Dro S If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it.

[blocks in formation]

Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery? Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the lost hair of another man.

Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?

Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.

Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit.

Dro. S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair.

Aut. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.

he loseth it in a kind of jollity. Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: Yet

Aut. S. For what reason?

Dro. S. For two; and sound ones too.
Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you.
Dro. S. Sure ones then.

Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing.
Dro. S. Certain ones then.

Aut. S. Name them.

Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends in tiring; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge.

Ant. S. You would all this time have proved, there is no time for all things.

Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to recover hair lost by nature.

Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover.

Dro. S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald followers. But soft! who wafts us yonder? Ant. S. I knew, 'twould be a bald conclusion:

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.
Adr. Ay, ay, Antipho!us, look strange, and frown;
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects,

I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou unurg'd wouldst vow
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee.
How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes.
That thou art then estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
That undividable incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me;
For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulpu,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick
Should'st thou but hear I were licentious!

« ZurückWeiter »