If any friend will pay the fum for him,

He fhall not die, fo much we tender him.

Adr. Juftice, most facred Duke, against the Abbess.
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady;

It cannot be that fhe hath done thee

wrong.
Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholis my husband,
(Whom I made lord of me and all I had,
At your important letters,) this ill day
A moft outrageous fit of madness took him;
That defp'rately he hurry'd through the street,
With him his bondman all as mad as he,
Doing difpleafure to the citizens,

By rushing in their houfes; bearing thence.
Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and fent him home,
Whilft to take order for the wrongs I went,
That here and there his fury had committed:
Anon, I wot not by what itrong escape,

He broke from thofe that had the guard of him:
And, with his mad attendant mad himself,
Each one with ireful paffion, with drawn fwords,
Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
Chas'd us away; till, railing of more aid,
We came again to bind them; then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we purfu'd them;
And here the Abbefs fhuts the gates on us,
And will not fuffer us to fetch him out,

Nor fend him forth, that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and born hence for help.

Duke. Long fince thy hufband ferv'd me in my wars, And I to thee engag'd a prince's word,

When thou didst make him mafter of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good i could.
Go, fome of you, knock at the abbey-gate;
And bid the Lady Abbess come to me.
I will determine this before I ftir.

SCENE IV. Enter a Mefenger.

Me. O miftrefs, mistress, shift and fave yourself; My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,

Whofe

Whose beard they have fing'd off with brands of fire;
And ever as it blaz'd, they threw on him

Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair;
My maiter preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with fciffars nicks him like a fool:
And, fure, unless you fend fome prefent help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Adr. Peace, fool, thy mafter and his man are here,
And that is falfe thou doft report to us.

Meff. Mitrefs, upon my life, I tell you true;

I have not breath'd almost fince I did fee it.
He cries for you, and vows if he can take you,
To fcotch 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 invifible!

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

SCENE V.

Enter Antipholis and Dromio of Ephefus.

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

Even for the fervice that long fince I did thee,

When I beftrid thee in the wars, and took

Deep fears 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 doat, 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 abused and difhonour'd me,

Ev'n in the strength and height of injury.

Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That the this day hath fhamelefs thrown on me.

Duke. Difcover how, and thou fhalt find me juft.
VOL. III.

R

E. Ant.

E. Ant, This day, great Duke, fhe fhut the doors

upon me;

Whilft fhe with harlots feasted in my houfe.

Duke., A grievous fault; fay, woman, didft thou fo? Adr. No, my good Lord: myfelf, he, and my fister, To-day did dine together: fo befal my soul,

As this is falfe he burdens me withal!

Luc. Ne'er may

I look on day, nor sleep on night, But she tells to your Highnefs fimple truth!

Ang. O perjur'd woman! they are both forfworn.
In this the madman juftly chargeth them.

E. Ant. My Liege, I am advised what I say.
Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor, heady-rafh, provok'd with raging ire;
Albeit my wrongs might make one wifer mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That goldfmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witnefs 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 ftreet 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 peafant home

For certain ducats; he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,

To go in perfon with me to my houfe.

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 mere anatomy, a mountebank,

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

Cries out, I was poffefs'd. Then all together
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence;
And in a dark and dankish 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 befeech-
To give me ample fatisfaction

For thefe deep fhames and great indignities.

Ang. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnefs 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,
These 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 firft forfwore 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 didit thou draw thy fword on me;
I never faw the chain, so help me heav'n!
And this is falfe you burden 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 goldfmith here
Denies that faying. Sirrah, what fay you?

E. Dro. Sir, he din'd with her there at the Porcupine.
Cour. 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?
Cour. As fure, my Liege, as I do fee your Grace.
Duke. Why, this is ftrange; go call the Abbefs hither:
I think you are all mated or stark mad.

R 2

[Exit one to the Abbefs.

SCENE

SCENE VI.

Egeon. Moft mighty Duke, vouehfafe 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 bondman Dromio?

E. Dro. Within this hour I was his bondman, 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. Dro. Ourfelves 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 ftrauge 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 saw me last; And careful hours with Time's deformed hand

Have written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
E. Ant. Neither.

Egion. Dromio, nor thou?

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

Egeon. I am fure thou doft.

E. Dro. I, Sir; but I am fure I do not: and whatsoever 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 seven 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 fnow, 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 bold witneffes I cannot err,
Tell me thou art my fon Antipholis.'
E. Ant. I never faw my father in my life.
Egeon. But feven years fince, in Syracufa bay,

Thou