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My master and his man are both broke loose,
person with me to my house.
Of vile confederates : along with them
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A living dead man. This pernicious slave,
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
Cries out, I was possess’d. Then, altogether
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
To give me ample satisfaction
For these deep shames, and great indignities. And now he's there, past thought of human reason. Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him,
Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus. That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke! O! grant me Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? justice,
Ang. He had, my lord ; and when he ran in here, Even for the service that long since I did thee, These people saw the chain about his neck. When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took
Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine
Æge. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you;
And then you fled into this abbey here, Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. there!
Ant. E. I never came within these abbey walls, She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife,
Nor ever did'st thou draw thy sword on me. That hath abused and dishonour'd me,
I never saw the chain, so help me heaven! Even in the strength and height of injury.
And this is false you burden me withal. Beyond imagination is the wrong,
Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this ! That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. I think, you all have drunk of Circe's
cup. Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. If here you hous'd him, here he would have been; Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly : upon me,
You say, he dined at home; the goldsmith here While she with harlots feasted in
Denies that saying:-Sirrah, what say you? Dake. A grievous fault. Say, woman, did'st thou so ? Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her, there, at the Porcupine. Adr. No, my good lord : myself, he, and my sister, Cour. He did, and from my finger snatch'd that ring. Today did dine together. So befal my soul,
Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her. As this is false he burdens me withal.
Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here? Lue. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. But she tells to your highness simple truth.
Duke. Why, this is strange.—Go call the abbess Ang. O perjur'd woman! They are both forsworn : hither.In this the madman justly chargeth them.
I think you are all mated, or stark mad. Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say;
[Exit an Attendant. Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine,
Æge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word. Nor heady-rash provok'd with raging ire,
Haply, I see a friend will save my life, albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. And pay the sum that may deliver me. This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner : Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, Æge. Is not your name, sir, call’d Antipholus, Could witness it, for he was with me then;
And is not that your bondman Dromio? Wbo parted with me to go fetch a chain,
Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir; Promising to bring it to the Porcupine,
But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords : Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
Æge. I am sure you both of you remember me. I went to seek him : in the street I met him,
Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you; And in his company, that gentleman.
For lately we were bound, as you are now. There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down, You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir ? | That I this day of him receiv'd the chain,
Æge. Why look you strange on me? you know me Which, God he knows, I saw not; for the which,
well. He did arrest me with an officer.
Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. I did obey, and sent my peasant home
Æge. O! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw melast; For certain ducats: he with none return'd.
And careful hours, with time's deformed hand, Then fairly I bespoke the officer,
Have written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous Ant. E. Neither.
warrior, Æge. Dromio, nor thou ?
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day? Æge. I am sure thou dost.
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.
Æge. Not know my voice? O, time's extremity ! Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so;
Did call me brother.—What I told you then,
I hope, I shall have leisure to make good, Though now this grained face of mine be bid
If this be not a dream I see, and hear. In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
Ant. S. I think it be, sir : I deny it not. Yet hath my night of life some memory,
Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,
Ang. I think I did, sir : I deny it not. My dull, deaf ears a little use to hear:
Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, All these old witnesses (I cannot err)
By Dromio ; but I think, he brought it not. Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.
Dro. E. No, none by me. Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life.
Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received from you, Æge. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, And Dronio, my man, did bring them me. Thou know'st we parted. But, perhaps, my son, I see, we still did meet each other's man, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery.
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, Ant. E. The duke, and all that know me in the city, And thereupon these errors all arose. Can witness with me that it is not so.
Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.
Duke. It shall not need : thy father hath his life. Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years
Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Have I been patron to Antipholus,
Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks for my During which time he ne'er saw Syracuse.
good cheer. I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains Enter Abbess, with Antipholus of Syracuse and To go with us into the abbey here, Dromio of Syracuse.
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes; Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. And all that are assembled in this place,
[All gather to see them. That by this sympathized one day's error Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me! Have suffered wrong, go, keep us company,
Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other; And we shall make full satisfaction. And so of these : which is the natural man,
Twenty-five years have I been gone in travail
Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio': command him away. My heavy burdens are delivered.-
Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, After so long grief such nativity!
Duke. With all my heart: I'll gossip at this feast. Speak, old Ægeon, if thou beʼst the man
[Exeunt Duke, Abbess, Ægeon, Courtezan, That had a wife once call'd Æmilia,
Merchant, ANGELO, and Attendants. That bore thee at a burden two fair sons.
Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from ship0! if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak,
board? And speak unto the same Æmilia !
Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou emÆge. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia.
barked? If thou art she, tell me, where is that son
Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the That floated with thee on the fatal raft?
Centaur. Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I,
Ant. S. He speaks to me. I am your master, Dromio: And the twin Dromio, all were taken up;
Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon. But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth
Embrace thy brother there ; rejoice with him. By force took Dromio and my son from them,
[Exeunt Ant. S. and E., Adr., and Luc. And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house, What then became of them, I cannot tell;
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner: I, to this fortune that you see me in.
She now shall be my sister, not my wife. Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right. Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not my These two Antipholus', these two so like,
brother : And these two Dromios, one in semblance,
I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. Besides his urging of his wreck at sea ;
Will you walk in to see their gossiping? These are the parents to these children,
Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. Which accidentally are met together.
Dro. E. That's a question : how shall we try it? Antipholus, thou cam’st from Corinth first.
Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then, Ant. S. No, sir, not I : I came from Syracuse. lead thou first, Duke. Stay, stand apart: I know not which is which. Dro. E. Nay, then thus : Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. We came into the world, like brother and brother; Dro. E. And I with him.
And now, let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon.
Friar Francis. John, his bastard Brother.
A Gentleman. CLAUDIO, a young Lord of Florence.
Hero, Daughter to Leonato.
BEATRICE, Niece to Leonato.
two Officers. VERGES,
Watchmen, and Attendants, &c.
MARGARET,} Gentlewomen attending on Hero.
lenged Cupid at the flight; and my uncle's fool, readEnter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, and others, with a him at the bird-bolt.I pray you, how many hath he
ing the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged Gentleman.
killed and eaten in these wars ? But how many hath he Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Ar- killed ? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing. ragon comes this night to Messina.
Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too Gent. He is very near by this : he was not three much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. leagues off when I left him.
Gent. He hath done good service, lady, in these | Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this wars. action ?
Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to Gent. But few of any sort, and none of name. eat it: he is a very valiant trencher-man; he hath an
Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever excellent stomach. brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Gent. a good soldier too, lady. Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Floren- Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ; but what is he tine, called Claudio.
to a lord ? Gent. Much deserved on his part, and equally re- Gent. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed membered by Don Pedro : he hath borne himself be with all honourable virtues. yond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Beat. It is so, indeed : he is no less than a stuffed lamb the feats of a lion : he hath, indeed, better bet- man; but for the stuffing,- Well, we are all mortal. tered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There you how.
is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and Leon. He hath an uncle, here in Messina, will be her : they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit | very much glad of it.
between them. | Gent. I have already delivered him letters, and there Beat. Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last appears much joy in him ; even so much, that joy could conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now not show itself modest enough without a badge of bit is the whole man governed with one; so that if he have
wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for Leon. Did he break out into tears ?
a difference between himself and his horse ; for it is all Gent. In great measure.
the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable Leon. A kind overflow of kindness. There are no creature.—Who is his companion now? He hath every faces truer than those that are so washed: how much month a new sworn brother. better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping ? Gent. Is't possible ?
Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned from Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith but the wars, or no?
as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next Gent. I know none of that name, lady: there was block. Done such in the army of any sort.
Gent. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?
books. Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua. Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my study. Gent. 0! he is returned, and as pleasant as ever he But, I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there no
young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him Beat. He set up bis bills here in Messina, and chal- | to the devil ?
Gent. He is most in the company of the right noble Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forClaudio.
sworn.- Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being Beat. O Lord ! he will hang upon him like a dis- reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty. ease : he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the John. I thank you: I am not of many words, but I taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! thank you. if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thou- Leon. Please it your grace, lead on? sand pound ere he be cured.
D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato: we will go together. Gent. I will hold friends with you, lady.
[Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. Beat. Do, good friend.
Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Leon. You will never run mad, niece.
signior Leonato? Beat. No, not till a hot January.
Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her. Gent. Don Pedro is approached.
Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? Enter Don PEDRO, John, Claudio, BENEDICK, Bal- Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should THAZAR, and others.
do, for my simple true judgment; or would you have D. Pedro. Good signior Leonato, are you come to me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant
trouble? the fashion of the world is to avoid to their sex? cost, and you encounter it.
Claud. No; I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the like- Bene. Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a ness of your grace; for trouble being gone, comfort high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little should remain, but when you depart from me, sorrow for a great praise : only this commendation I can afford abides, and happiness takes his leave.
her; that were she other than she is, she were un handD. Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. some, and being no other but as she is, I do not like I think, this is your daughter.
her. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. Claud. Thou thinkest, I am in sport: I pray thee, Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? tell me truly how thou lik’st her.
Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her? child.
Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick : we may guess Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you by this what you are, being a man.—Truly, the lady this with a sad brow, or do you play the flouting Jack, fathers herself.—Be happy, lady, for you are like an to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a honourable father.
rare carpenter ? Come, in what key shall a man take Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would you, to go in the song? not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that like him as she is.
ever I looked on. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no Benedick: no body marks you.
such matter: there's her cousin, an she were not posBene. What, my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet sessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as living?
the first of May doth the last of December. But I Beat. Is it possible disdain should die, while she hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you? hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick? Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. her presence.
Bene. Is't come to this, i' faith? Hath not the world Bene. Then is courtesy a turn-coat. But it is cer- one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion ? | tain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard to, i' faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a heart, for, truly, I love none.
yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Beat. A dear happiness to women : they would else Look; Don Pedro is returned to seek you. have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank
Re-enter Don PEDRO. God, and my cold blood, I am of your humour for D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a you followed not to Leonato's ? man swear he loves me.
Bene. I would your grace would constrain me to Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind; tell. so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. scratched face.
Bene. You hear, count Claudio: I can be secret as Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my such a face as yours.
allegiance,-mark you this, on my allegiance. He is Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
in love. With whom ?-now that is your grace's part. Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of - Mark, how short the answer is :-with Hero, Leoyours.
nato's short daughter. Bene. I would, my horse had the speed of your Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. tongue, and so good a continuer.
But keep your way
Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: it is not so, nor o'God's name; I have done.
'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should Beat. You always end with a jade's trick: I know be so.
Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forD. Pedro. That is the sum of all.—Leonato,-sig- bid it should be otherwise. nior Claudio, and signior Benedick,—my dear friend D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay very well worthy. here at the least a month, and he heartily prays some Člaud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. occasion
may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. hypocrite, but prays from his heart.
Claud. And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
you of old.
Bene. And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I Claud.
0! my lord, spoke mine.
When you went onward on this ended action, Claud. That I love her, I feel.
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.
That lik’d, but had a rougher task in hand, Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, | Than to drive liking to the name of love; nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts that fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the Have left their places vacant, in their rooms stake.
Come thronging soft and delicate desires, D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in All prompting me how fair young Hero is, the despite of beauty.
Saying, I lik'd her ere I went to warsClaud. And never could maintain his part, but in 'D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, the force of his will.
And tire the hearer with a book of words. Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her: If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble And I will break with her, and with her father, thanks; but that I will have a recheat winded in my And thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end, forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? | all women shall pardon me.
Because I will not do Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the That know love's grief by his complexion ! right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I But lest my liking might too sudden seem, may go the finer) I will live a bachelor.
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than love.
the flood ? Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, The fairest ground is the necessity. my lord; not with love: prove, that ever I lose more Look, what will serve is fit: 'tis once, thou lovest, blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, And I will fit thee with the remedy. pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang I know we shall have revelling to-night: me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of I will assume thy part in some disguise, blind Cupid.
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, thou wilt prove a notable argument.
And take her hearing prisoner with the force, Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and And strong encounter of my amorous tale : shoot at me; and he that first hits me, let him be Then, after, to her father will I break; clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam.
And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine. D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try :
In practice let us put it presently.
Exeunt. “ In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke."
SCENE II.-A Room in LEONATO's House. Bene. The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bearit, pluck off the bull's horns, and set them
Enter LEONATO and AntonIO. in my forehead; and let me be vilely painted, and in Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin, such great letters as they write, “Here is good horse your son? Hath he provided this music? to hire," let them signify under my sign,—“ Here you Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can may see Benedick the married man.
tell you strange news that you yet dreamt not of. Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would'st be Leon. Are they good? horn-mad.
Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have a D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver good cover; they show well outward. The prince and in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.
count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in Bene. I look for an earthquake too, then.
my orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. mine: the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved In the mean time, good signior Benedick, repair to my niece, your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it Leonato's: commend me to him, and tell him, I will this night in a dance; and, if he found her accordant, not fail him at supper; for, indeed, he hath made great he meant to take the present time by the top, and preparation.
instantly break with you of it. Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you
this? an embassage; and so I commit you
Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him, and Claud. To the tuition of God : from my house, if I question him yourself
. had it.
Leon. No, no: we will hold it as a dream, till it D. Pedro. The sixth of July : your loving friend, appear itself; but I will acquaint my daughter withal, Benedick.
that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your peradventure this be true. Go you, and tell her of it. discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the Several persons cross the stage.) Cousins, you know guards are but slightly basted on neither : ere you flout what you have to do.-0! I cry you mercy, friend; ald ends any farther, examine your conscience, and so go you with me, and I will use your skill.—Good [Exit Benedick. cousin, have a care this busy time.
[Exeunt. Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me good. SCENE III.-Another Room in Leonato's House. D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach: teach it but
Enter John and CONRADE. how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Con. What the good year, my lord! why are you Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
thus out of measure sad ? Cloud. Hath Leonato any son, my,
John. There is no measure in the occasion that D. Pedro. No child but Hero, she's his only heir. breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. Dost thou affect her, Claudio ?
Con. You should hear reason.
I leave you.