Against the Laws and Statutes of this Town,
Beheaded publickly for his Offence.
Ang. See where they come, we will behold his Death,
Enter Adriana and Luciana.
Luc. Kneel to the Duke before he pafs the Abbey. Enter the Duke, and Ægeon bare-headed, with the Headsman, and other Officers.
Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publickly,
If any Friend will pay the Sum for him,
He fhall not die, fo much we tender him,
Adr. Juftice, moft facred Duke, against the Abbefs.
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend Lady;
It cannot be that fhe hath done thee wrong.
Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholis my Husband, Whom I made Lord of me, and all I had,
At your all-potent Letter, this ill Day
A most outragious Fit of Madness took him,
That defp'rately he hurry'd 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,
Whilft 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 Paffion, with drawn Swords
Met us again, and madly bent on us,
Chac'd us away; 'till raifing of more Aid,
We came again to bind them; then they fled
Into this Abbey, whither we purfu'd them,
And here the Abbefs fhuts the Gates on us,
And will not fuffer us to fetch him out,
Nor fend him forth that we may bear him thence,
Therefore, moft gracious Duke, with thy Command,
Let him be brought forth, and born hence for help.
Duke. Long fince thy Husband ferv'd me in my Wars,
And I to thee ingag'd a Prince's Word,
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.
Meff. O Mistress, Miftrefs, fhift and fave your felf;
My Mafter and his Man are both broke lofe,
Beaten the Maids a row, and bound the Doctor,
Whose 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 Ciffars nicks him like a Fool:
And fure, unless you fend fome other present 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.
Meff. Mistress, 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 fcorch your Face, and to disfigure you. [Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him Mistress; 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 born about invisible,
Even now we hous'd him in the Abbey here.
And now he's there, paft thought of human Reason.
Enter Antipholis and Dromio of Ephefus,
E. Ant. Juftice, moft gracious Duke, oh grant me Justice.
Even for the Service that long fince I did thee,
When I beftrid thee in the Wars, and took
Deep Scars to fave thy Life, even for the Blood "That then I loft for thee, now grant me Juftice.
Ageon. Unless the fear of Death doth make me dote, I fee my Son 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, Even in the strength and height of Injury :
Beyond Imagination is the Wrong
That the this Day hath fhameless thrown on me.
Duke. Difcover how, and thou fhalt find me juft. (me; E. Ant. This Day, great Duke, fhe fhut the Doors upon Whilft fhe, with Harlots feafted in my Houfe.
Duke. A grievous Fault; fay Woman, didft thou so? Adr. No, my good Lord: My felf, he, and my Sifter, To Day did dine together: fo befal my Soul, As this is falfe he burthens me withal.
Luc. Ne'er may I look on Day, nor fleep on Night, But she tells to your Highness fimple 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 fay,
Neither difturb'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 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,
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 Go'dsmith 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 Pefant home
For certain Duckets; he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the Officer
To go in Perfon with me to my Houfe.
By th'way, we met my Wife, her Sifter, and a Rabble more
Of vil❜d Confederates; along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd Villain,
A meer 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 Slave
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, and 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 beseech
To give me ample Satisfaction
For thefe deep Shames, 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,
These 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 you firft forfwore 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,
E. Ant. I never came within these Abbey Walls,
Nor ever didft thou draw thy Sword on me;
I never faw the Chain, fo help me Heav'n;
And this is falfe you burthen me withal.
Duke. Why what an intricate Impeach is this?
I think you all have drunk of Circes 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 Saying. 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 Leige, 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 hither;
I think you are all mated, or ftark mad.
Ageon. Moft mighty Duke, vouchfafe me speak a Word: Haply I fee a Friend will fave my Life,
And pay the Sum that may deliver me.
Duke. Speak freely, Syracufian, what thou wilt.
Ageon. Is not your Name, Sir, called Antipholis?
And is not that your Bond-man Dromio?
E. Dro. Within this Hour I was his Bond-man, Sir,
But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my Cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his Man unbound.
Ægeon. I am fure both of you remember me,
E. Dro. Our felves we do remember, Sir, by you;
For lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinch's Patient, are you, Sir?
Ageon. Why look you ftrange on me? you know me well.
E. Ant. I never faw you in my Life 'till now.
Ageon. Oh! Grief hath chang'd me fince you faw me laft, And careful Hours, with Time's deformed Hand,
Have written ftrange Defeatures in
my Face: But tell me yet, doft thou not know my Voice?
E. Ant. Neither.
Ageon. Dromio, nor thou.
E. Dro. No, trust me, nor I.
Ageon, I am fure thou doft.
E. Dro. I, Sir, but I am fure I do not, and whatsoever a Man denies, you are now bound to believe him.
Ageon. Not know my Voice! oh Time's Extremity,
Haft thou fo crack'd and fplitted my poor Tongue
In seven short Years, that here my only Son
Knows not my feeble Key of untun'd Cares?
Tho' now this grained Face of mine be hid
In fap-confuming Winter's drizled Snow,
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:
And all thefe old Witneffes, I cannot err,
Tell me, thou art my Son Antipholis.
E. Ant. I never faw my Father in my Life.
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