Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day: This chain you had of me, can you deny it? I'll S. Ant. I think, I had; I never did deny it. Mer. Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too. S. Ant. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it? Mer. These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee: Fye on thee, wretch! 'tis pity, that thou liv'st Some get within him, take his sword away: This is some priory;-In, or we are spoil'd. 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? 5 Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing: And therefore comes it, that his head is light. Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidUnquiet meals make ill digestions, [ings: Therefore 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, 10 But moody and dull melancholy, 15 20 25 30 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean'dhimself 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 enter in my house. Adr. Then, let your servants bring my hus band forth. Abb. Neither; he took this place for sanctuary, Adr. I will attend my hu-band, be his nurse, Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir, Abb. Hath he not lost much weaith by wreck at [him. (me. Abb. Ay, but not rough enough. Adr. And in assemblies too. 50 Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband And ill it doth beseem your holiness, [here; To separate the husband and the wife. [him. Abb. Be quiet, and depart, thou shalt not have Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity. [Exit Abbess. 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, 55 Behind the ditches of the abbey here. Ang. Upon what cause? Adr. It was the copy' of our conference: [mad. Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant, Who put unluckily into this bay Against the laws and statutes of this town, [death. Ang. See, where they come; we will behold his That is, the theme, or subject. i. e. restored to his senses. Sorry here means lamented, as Egeon was not to be executed for any crime, but by the decree to prevent the traffic between Syracuse and Ephesus. Luc. Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the Enter the Duke, and Egeon bare-headed; with Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the Duke. She is a virtuous and reverend lady; Whom I made lord of me and all I had, By rushing in their houses, bearing thence, 5 10 To scorch your face, and to disfigure you: [Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress; fly, begone. Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing: Guard with halberds. Adr. Ah me, it is my husband! Witness you, That he is borne about invisible: Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; Even for the service that long since I did thee, 20 She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife; 25 That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. 30 Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence. 35 Enter a Messenger. Whilst she with harlots' feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst thou so? [sister, Adr. No, my good lord;-myself, he, and my To-day did dine together: So betal my soul, As this is false, he burdens me withal! Luc. Ne'er may look on day, nor sleep on night, But she tells to your highness simple truth! [her, Ang. O perjur'd women! They are both for- Mess.O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself! Mess. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; 1 Perhaps we should read importunate. 55 I did obey; and sent my peasant home To go in person with me to my house. i. e. to take measures. i. e. one after another. Along Along with them [villain,] They brought one Pinch; a hungry lean-fac'd A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; For these deep shames 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 such a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine Heard you confess, you had the chain of him, After you first forswore 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 didst thou draw thy sword on me; I never saw the chain, so help me heaven! And this is false, you burden me withal. E. Ant. I never saw you in my life, 'till now. Ageon. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last; And careful hours, with time's deformed' hand 10 Have written strange defeatures' in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? E. Ant. Neither. 15 20 25 Egeon. Dromio, nor thou? E. Dro. No, trust me, sir, nor I. Ægeon. I am sure thou dost. E. Dro. Ay, sir? But I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever tremity! Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares? Though now this grained' face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up; Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 30 All these old witnesses (I cannot err) Tell me thou art my son Antipholis. E. Ant. I never saw my father in my life. Egeon. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou knowest, we parted: but, perhaps, my son, 35 Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. 40 Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this! her. Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here? Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. Duke. Why, this is strange:-Go call the abbess hither; I think you are all mated', or stark mad. [Exit one to the Abbess. Egeon. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak Haply, I see a friend, will save my life, [a word; And pay the sum that may deliver me. Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt. Ageon. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholis? And is not that your bondman, Dromio? [sir, E. Dro. Within this hour I was his bond-man, But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords; Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. [me. Ægeon. I am sure, you both of you remember 50 E. Ant. The duke, and all that know me in Can witness with me that it is not so; [the city, I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholis, During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa: I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. Enter the Abbess, with Antipholis Syracusan, and Dromio Syracusan. Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see him. Adr.I see two husbands,ormine eyes deceive me. Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other; And so of these: Which is the natural man, And which the spirit? who deciphers them? S. Dro. I, sir, am Dromio; conimand him away. E Dro. I, sir, am Dromio; pray let me stay. S. Ant. Ægeon, art thou not or else his ghost? S. Dro. O, my old master! who hath bound him here? [bonds, Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his And gain a husband by his liberty:Speak, old Egeon, if thou be'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd Emilia, 60 That bore thee at a burden two fair sons? Oh, if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak, And speak unto the same Æmilia! 55 i. e. wild, foolish. For deforming. i. e. strange alteration of features. i. e. furrow'd. Duke. Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right: Ageon. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia; Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he and I, Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-25 Adr. And are you not my husband? [day S. Ant. And so did 1, yet she did call me so; [me. 30 Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of [you, 40 S. Ant. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon: That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner; E. Dro. Methinks you are my glass, and not I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth. S. Dro. Not I, sir; you are my elder. How shall we try it? S. Dro. We will draw Cuts for the senior; till then lead thou first. [here. 45 We came into the world, like brother and brother; E. Ant. These ducats pawn I for my father another. Dr. Warburton thinks we should read, and gaude; that is, rejoice with me. MUCH SCENE I Before Leonato's house. A C T I. 10 Mess. But few of any sort 2, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the atchiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on 15 a young Florentine call'd Claudio. Mess. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally remember'd by Don Pedro: He hath borne him self beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. 20 Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not shew itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears? Mess. In great measure. Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: There are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping! Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto3 return'd from the wars, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, lady; there was none such in the army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? Hero. Mycousin means signiorBenedick ofPadua. Mess. O, he's return'd; and as pleasant as ever. he was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and Ichallenged Cupid at the flight"; and my uncle's fool Mr. Pope was of opinion, that the story of this play is taken from Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, b. v. Mr. Steevens, however, supposes, that a novel of Belleforest, copied from another of Bandello, furnished Shakspeare with his fable. 2 That is, of any rank. Montante, in Spanish, is a huge 3 two-handed sword, given, with much humour, to one, the speaker would represent as a boaster or bravado. This alludes to the custom of fencers, or prize-fighters, setting up bills, containing a general challenge. To challenge at the flight, was a challenge to shoot with an arrow of a particular kind, with narrow feathers. reading |