Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Fore'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 boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us.
My wife, more careful for the latter born,
Had fast ned him unto a small spare mast,
h as seafaring men provide for storms.
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whist I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Firing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 85
Fast ned ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Tas carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
sers'd those vapours that offended us;
And, by the benefit of his wished light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Corinth that, of Epidaurus this.
Eat ere they came, O, let me say no more! Father the sequel by that went before.
Inke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
E. O, had the gods done so, I had not now thily term'd them merciless to us! Fa. ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
were encount'red by a mighty rock;
Whh being violently borne upon,
helpful ship was splitted in the midst; that, in this unjust divorce of us,
ne had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for. erpart, poor soul! seeming as burdened Tesser weight but not with lesser woe, Vas carried with more speed before the wind; A our sight they three were taken up bermen of Corinth, as we thought. ength, another ship had seiz'd on us; knowing whom it was their hap to save, ave healthful welcome to their shipwreck'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 I will favour thee in what I can.
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day
To seek thy life by beneficial help.
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die.
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend,
But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.
[SCENE II. The mart.]
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, DROMIO of Syracuse, and FIRST MERCHANT.
1. Mer. Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day a Syracusian merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.
Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time;
Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return and sleep within mine inn,
For with long travel I 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.
Ant. 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?
1. Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain mer-
chants,
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 afterward consort you till bed-time.
My present business calls me from you now.
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'erraught 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. Erit. 1
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! fie, beat it
hence !
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere,
Or else what lets it but he would be here? 105
Sister, you know he promis'd 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
Will lose his beauty; and tho' gold bides still
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold; and no man that hath a name,
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what 's left away, and weeping die. Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy? [Exeunt. 116
[SCENE II. A public place.]
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave
Is wand'red 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 din-
ner?
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. [35 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. 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 periwig 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 s bestows on beasts; and what he hath scante men in hair he hath given them in wit.
Ant. S. Why, but there 's many a man hat more hair than wit.
Dro. S. Not a man of those but he hath th wit to lose his hair.
Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy me plain dealers without wit.
Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity.
Ant. 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.
Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. Dro. S. Certain ones, then.
Unless it be by inspiration?
Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity 170 To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood! Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine.
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness married to thy stronger state
Makes me with thy strength to communicate.
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for
her theme.
What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy.
Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me and I long for grass.
'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be
But I should know her as well as she knows me.
Adr. Come, come; no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye and weep,
Whilst man and master laughs my woes to scorn.
Come, sir, to dinner. Dromio, keep the gate.
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks.
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say he dines forth and let no creature enter.
Come, sister. Dromio, play the porter well.
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