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Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him: in the street I met him;
And in his company, that gentleman.
There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down,
That I this day of him receiv'd the chain, 230
Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which,
He did arrest me with an officer,
I did obey; and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats : he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,
To go in person with me to my house.
By the way we met my wife, her sister, and
A rabble more of vile confederates ;
Along with them
They brought one Pinch; a hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller ;
A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man: tliis pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer ;
And, gazing in iny eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as it were, out-facing me,
Cries out, I was possessid: then altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence;
And in a dark and dankish vault at home 250
There left me and my man, both bound together ;
'Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction
For these deep slames 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. 261
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! 270
And this is false you burden me withal.
Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this !
I think, you all have drank of Circe's cup.
If here you hous'd him, here he would have been;
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly :-
You say, he din’d at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying :--Sirrah, what say you?
E. Dro. Sir, he din'd with her there, at the Por.
Cour. He did ; and from my finger snatch'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 sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.
Duke. Why; this is strange :-Go call the abbess
I think you are all mated, or stark mad.
Egeon. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a
Haply, I see a friend, will save my life,
pay the sum that may deliver me.
Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.
Ægeon. Is not your name, sir, callid Antipholis?.
And is not that your bondman Dromio ? 290
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.
Ægeon. I am sure, you both of you remember me.
E. Dro. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;
For lately, we were bound, as you are now. :
You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir?
Ægeon. Why look you strange on me? you know
E. Ant. I never saw you in my life, 'till now.
Ægeon. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw
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.
Ægeon. 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
A man denies, you are now bound to believe him.
Ægeon. Not know my voice! Oh, time's extre-
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 untund cares ?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled 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 :
All these old witnesses (I cannot-err)
Tell me thou art my son Antipholis.
E. Ant. I never saw my father in my life.
Ægeon. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy,
Thou knowest, we parted : but, perhaps, my son,
Thou sham’st to acknowledge me in misery.
E. Ant. The duke, and all that know me in the city,
Can witness with me that it is not so ;
I ne'er saw Syracusa in my
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years 330
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
Abb. Most mighty Duke, behold a man much
[ All gather to see him. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine 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 thein ? 338