Me. Miftrefs, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breath'd almoft, fince I did fee it, He crys for you, and vows if he can take you, To fcorch your face, and to disfigure you.

[Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, miftrefs; 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 borne about invisible!

Ev'n now we hous'd him in the abbey here,
And now he's there, past thought of human reafon.

Enter Antipholis, and Dromio of Eph.

E. Ant. Juftice, moft gracious Duke, oh, grant me justice.

Even for the service that long fince I did thee,
When I bestrid 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.
Egeon. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I fee my fon 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 abufed and dishonour'd me,
Ev'n 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.
E. Ant. This day, great Duke, fhe fhut the doors
upon me;

Whilft the with harlots feafted in my houfe.

Duke. A grievous fault; fay, woman, didft thou fo? Adr. No, my good lord: my felf, he, and my fifter, To day did dine together: fo befal my foul,

As this is falfe, he burthens me withal!

Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor fleep on night, But the tells to your Highnefs 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 adviled, what I fay.
Neither difturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor, heady-rafh, provok'd with raging ire;
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiler mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That goldfmith 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 goldfmith 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 peasant home
For certain ducats; he with none return'd.
Then fairly I befpoke the officer,

To go in perfon with me to my house,

By th' way we met my wife, her fifter, and
A rabble more of vile confederates;

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 flave,
Forfooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in my eyes, feeling my pulfe,
And with no-face, as 'twere, out-facing me,
Cries out, I was poffeft. Then all together
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a dark and dankith 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

Το

To give me ample fatisfaction

For these deep thames 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 fuch a Chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord; and when he ran in here, Thefe People faw the Chain about his neck.

Mer. Befides, I will be fworn, these ears of mine
Heard you confefs, you had the Chain of him,
After you first forswore it on the mart;
And thereupon I drew my fword on you;
And then you fled into this abbey here,
From whence, I think, you're come by miracle.
E. Ant. I never came within these abbey-walls,
Nor ever didst thou draw thy fword on me;
I never faw the Chain, so help me heav'n!
And this is false, you burthen me withal.

Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this?
I think, you all have drunk of Circe's 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.

Cur. He did, and from my finger fnatch'd that Ring.
E. Ant. 'Tis true, my Liege, this Ring I had of her.
Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here?
Cur. As fure, my Liege, as I do fee your Grace.
Duke. Why, this is ftrange; go call the Abbefs hi-

ther;

I think, you are all mated, or ftark mad.

[Ex. one to the Abbefs. Egeon. Moft mighty Duke, vouchfafe me fpeak a

word :

Haply I fee a friend, will fave my life;

And pay the fum that may deliver me.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracufan, what thou wilt.
Egeon. Is not your name, Sir, call'd Antipholis ?

And is not that your bond-man Dromio?

E. Dro.

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.

Egeon. I am fure, you both of you remember me. E. Dre. 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?

Egeon. Why look you ftrange on me? you know me well.

E. Ant. I never faw you in my life, 'till now. Egeon. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, fince you faw me last;

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.

Egeon. Dromio, nor thou?

E. Dro. No, truft me, Sir, nor I.

Egeon. I am fure, thou doft.

'

E. Dre. I, Sir? but I am fure, I do not; and whatfoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

Egeon. Not know my voice! oh, time's extremity! Haft thou fo crack'd and splitted my poor tongue In feven fhort years, that here my only fon Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares? Tho' now this grained face of mine be hid In fap-confuming winter's drizled fnów, 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; All these old witneffes, I cannot. err, Tell me thou art my fón Antipholis. E. Ant. I never faw my father in

my life.

Egeon. But feven years fince, in Syracufa-bay, Thou know'it, we parted; but, perhaps, my fon, Thou fham'ft t'acknowledge me in mifery.

E. Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the city, Can witness with me that it is not fo;

I ne'er faw Syracufa in my life.

Duke. I tell thee, Syracufan, twenty years Have I been Patron to Antipholis,

During which time he ne'er faw Syracufa:
I fee, thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the Abbess, with Antipholis Syracufan, and Dromio Syracufan.

Abb. Moft mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to fee him. Adr. I fee two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. Duke. One of thefe men is Genius to the other; And fo of thefe which is the natural man, And which the fpirit? who deciphers them? S. Dro. I, Sir, am Dromio; command him away. E. Dro. I, Sir, am Dromio; pray, let me ftay. S. Ant. Ægeon, art thou not? or elfe his ghost? S. Dro. O, my old mafter who hath bound him here?

Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds; And gain a husband by his liberty.

Speak, old Egeon, if thou be'ft the man,
That hadit a wife once call'd Emilia,
That bore thee at a burthen two fair fons?
Oh, if thou be'ft the fame Egeon, speak;
And speak unto the fame Emilia.:

Duke. Why, here begins his morning ftory right
These two Antipholis's, thefe two fo like,
And those two Dromio's, one in semblance;
Befides her urging of her wrack at fea,
These plainly are the parents to thefe children,
Which accidentally are met together..

Ægeon. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia;
If thou art fhe, tell me where is that fon
That floated with thee on the fatal Raft.

Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken up;
But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth.
By force took Dromio and my fon from them,
And me they left with thofe of Epidamnum.

What