Puslapio vaizdai
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And therefore homeward did they bend their course.-
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell fad stories of my own mishaps.

Duke. And, for the fakes of them thou forrow'st for, Do me the favour to dilate at full

What hath befall'n of them, and thee, 'till now.

Ageon. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother; and importun'd me, That his attendant, (for his cafe was like, Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,) Might bear him company in quest of him: Whom whilft I labour'd of a love to fee, I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. Five fummers have I spent in farthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Afia, And coafting homeward, came to Ephefus : Hopeless to find, yet loth to leave unfought, Or that, or any place that harbours men. But here must end the story of my life; And happy were I in my timely death, Could all my travels warrant me they live.

Duke. Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have markt To bear th' extremity of dire mishap; Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, (Which Princes, would they, may not disannul ;) Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, My foul should sue as advocate for thee. But, tho' thou art adjudged to the death, And passed sentence may not be recall'd, But to our honour's great difparagement; Yet will I favour thee in what I can; I therefore, merchant, limit thee this day, To feek thy life by beneficial help : Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus, Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,

And

And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die.

Jailor, take him to thy custody.

Jail. I will, my Lord.

[Exeunt Duke, and Train.

Ægeon. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend,

But to procraftinate his liveless end.

[Exeunt Egeon, and Jailor.

SCENE II.

Changes to the Street.

Enter Antipholis of Syracuse, a Merchant, and Dromio.

Mer.

Left that your goods too foon

be confiscate.

This very day, a Syracufan 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 mony, that I had to keep.

Ant. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we hoft,
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. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a means.

[Exit Dromio.

Ant. 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,

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And then go to the inn and dine with me?
Mer. I am invited, Sir, to certain merchants,
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 confort with you 'till bed-time :
My present business calls me from you now.

Ant. Farewel 'till then; I will go lose myself, And wander up and down to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit Merchant.

SCENE III.

Ant. He that commends me to my own content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water, That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself : So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanack of my true date.
What now? how chance, thou art return'd so soon?

E. Dro. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too

late :

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit.'
The clock has ftrucken twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek;
She is so hot, because the meat is cold;

The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no ftomach;
You have no ftomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,

Are penitent for your default to day.

Ant.

1

Ant. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this, I pray,
Where you have left the mony that I gave you ?

E. Dro. Oh,-fix-pence, that I had a Wednesday last,
To pay the fadler for my mistress' crupper ?
The fadler had it, Sir; I kept it not.

Ant. I am not in a sportive humour now;
Tell me and dally not, where is the mony?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody ?

E. Dro. I pray you, jest, Sir, as you fit at dinner :
I from my mistress come to you in poft;
If I return, I shall be post indeed;
For the will score your fault upon my pate:
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock;
And strike you home without a messenger.

Ant. Coine, Dromio, come, these jests are out of

feafon;

Reserve them 'till a merrier hour than this :
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

E. Dro. To me, Sir? why, you gave no gold to me.
Ant. Come on, Sir knave, have done your foolish-
ness;

And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge?

E. Dro. My charge was but to fetch you from the

mart

Home to your house, the Phanix, Sir, to dinner;
My mistress and her fister stay for you.

Ant. Now, as I am a christian, answer me,
In what safe place you have bestow'd my mony;
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd :
Where are the thousand marks thou hadft of me?

E. Dro. I have some marks of yours upon my pate;
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders;
But not a thousand marks between you both.
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.

Ant.

Ant. Thy mistress' marks? what mistress, flave, hast

thou?

E. Dro. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the
Phenix;

She, that doth fast, 'till you come home to dinner;
And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? there take you that, Sir knave. E. Dro. What mean you, Sir? for God's fake, hold your hands;

Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels.

[Exit Dromio.

2

Ant. Upon my life, by some device or other,
The villain is * o'er-raught of all my mony.
They say, this town is full of couzenage;
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye;
Dark-working forcerers, that change the mind;
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;

* That is, over-reached

2 They say, this town is full of couzenage;] This was the character the ancients give of it. Hence Εφεσια ἄλεξιφάρμακα was proverbial amongst them. Thus Menander uses it, & ̓Εφεσια γράμματα, in the same sense. WARBURTON.

3 As, nimble Jugglers, that deceive the Eye; Dark-working Sorcerers, that change the Mind :

Soul-killing Witches, that deform the Body; Those, who attentively confider these three Lines, must confefs, that the Poet intended, the Epithet given to each of these Mifcreants, should declare the Power by which they perform their Feats, and which would therefore be a just Characteristick of each of them.

3

Difguifed

Thus, by nimble Jugglers, we are taught that they perform their Tricks by Slight of Hand: and by Soul-killing Witches, we are informed, the Mischief they do is by the Assistance of the Devil, to whom they have given their Souls: But then, by dark working Sorcerers, we are not inftructed in the Means by which they perform their Ends. Befides, this Epithet agrees as well to Witches, as to them; and therefore, certainly, our Author could not design This in their Characterick. We should read; Drug-working Sorcerers, thut change the Mind;

And we know by the History of ancient and modern Superftition, that these kind of Jugglers always pretended to

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