Whofe beard they have fing'd off with brands of fire; Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair; Adr. Peace, fool, thy mafter and his man are here, And that is falfe thou doft report to us. Me. Miftrefs, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breath'd almoft fince I did fee it. [Gry 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; witnefs you, That he is borne about invisible! Ev'n now we hous'd him in the abbey here, And now he's there, paft thought of human reafon. 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, E. Ant. Juftice, fweet Prince, against that woman there : She whom thou gav'ft to me to be my wife That hath abufed ånd difhonour'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. Discover how, and thou fhalt find me juft. E. Ant. This day, great Duke, fhe fhut the doors upon me; Whilft fhe with harlots feafted in my houfe. Duke. A grievous fault; fay, woman, didft thou fo? Adr. No, my good Lord: myself, he, and my fifter, To-day did dine together: fo befal my foul, -As this is false he burdens me withal ! Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor fleep on night, But fhe tells to your Highness fimple truth! Ang. O perjur'd woman! they are both forfworn. E. Ant. My Liege, I am advised what I fay. There did this perjur'd goldfmith fwear me down, I did obey, and fent my peafant home For certain ducats; he with none return'd. Then fairly I bespoke the officer, Το go in perfon with me to my house. By th' way we met my wife, her fifter, and They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain, • A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller, Cries out, I was poffefs'd. Then all together There left me and my man, both bound together, Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech For thefe deep thames 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, Thefe people faw the chain about his neck. Mer. Befides, I will be fworn, thefe ears of mine Heard you confefs, you had the chain of him, After firft forfwore it on the mart; you And thereupon I drew my fword on you ; E. Ant. I never came within these abbey-walls, Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this? ; 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 hi ther: I think you are all mated or stark mad. [Exit one to the Abbess. Egeon. Moft mighty Duke, vouchfafe me speak `a word: Haply I fee a friend will fave my life, 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. Ægeon. I am fure 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? Egeon. Why look you ftrange on me? you know me well. E. Ant. I never faw you in life till now. my Egeon. Oh! grief hath chang'd me fince you faw me laft t; And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written ftrange defeatures in my face: E. Ant. Neither. Egeon. Dromio, nor thou? E. Dro. No, trust me, Sir, nor I. -Egeon. I am sure thou doft. E. Dro. 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 seven short 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 drizłed 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 hold 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 know'ft, 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 During which time he ne'er faw Syracufa : Enter the Abbefs, with Antipholis Syracufan, and Dromio Syracufan. wrong'd. Abb. Moft mighty Duke, behold a man much S. Dro. I, Sir, am Dromio; command him away. Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds; Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be'ft the man, That hadft a wife once call'd Æmilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair fons ? Duke. Why, here begins his morning-ftory right: And those two Dromio's, one in femblance; Befides her urging of her wreck at sea, These plainly are the parents to these children, Egeon. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia; |