that, they say, one would speak to her, and stand in |
hope of answer: thither with all greediness of affec-
tion, are they gone; and there they intend to sup.
1 Gent. I thought, she had some great matter ther
in hand; for she hath privately, twice or thrice a day.
ever since the death of Hermione, visited that re-
moved house. Shall we thither, and with our com-I
pany piece the rejoicing?
3CENE III. -The same. A Room in Paulina's house.
Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CA-
MILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants.
Leon. O, grave and good Paulina,the great comfort,
That I have had of thee!
Paul. What, sovereign sir,
did not well, I meant well: all my services,
You have paid home: but that you have vouchsaf'd,
With your crown'd brother, and these your contracted
Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit,
It is a surplus of your grace, which never
My life may last to answer.
Leon. O Paulina,
3 Gent. Who would be thence, that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye, some new grace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along. [Exeunt Gentlemen. Aut. Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old We honour you with trouble: but we came man and his son aboard the prince; told him, I heard To see the statne of our queen; your gallery him talk of a fardel, and I know not what: but he at that Have we pass'd through, not without much content time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter, ( so he then In many singularities; but we saw not took her to be,) who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it would not have relished among my other discredits. Enter Shepherd and Clown.
Here come those, I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. Shep. Come, boy; I am past more children; but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born.
Clo. You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes? say, you see them not, and think me still no gentleman born: you were best say, these robes are not gentlemen born. Give me the lie; do,and try, whether I am not now a gentleman born.
Aut. I know, you are now, sir, a gentleman born.
Clo. Ay, aud have been so any time these four hours.
Shep. And so have I, boy.
Clo. So you have:-but I was a gentleman born before my father: for the king's son took me by the hand, and called me brother; and then the two kings called my father brother: and then the prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister, called my father father; and so we wept; and there was the first gentlemanlike tears that ever we shed.
Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. Clo. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate, as we are.
Aut. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults, I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the prince, my master. Shep. Pry'thee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen.
Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life?
Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship.
Clo. Give me thy hand! I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow, as any is in Bohemia. Shep. You may say it, but not swear it.
Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it. Shep. How if it be false, son? Clo.Ifit be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend: -and I'll swear to the prince, thou art a tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know, thou art no tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunk: but I'll swear it and I would, thou would'st be a tall fellow of thy hands.
Aut. I will prove so, sir, to my power.
That which my daughter came to look upon,
The sfatue of her mother.
Paul. As she liv'd peerless,
So her dead likeness, I do well believe,
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon,
Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it
Lonely apart. But there it is: prepare
To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever
Still sleep mock'd death! behold; and say, 'tis well.
[Paulina undraws a curtain, and discovers a
I like your silence, it the more shows off
Your wonder: but yet speak; - first, you, my liege,
Comes it not something near?
Leon. Her natural posture! -
Chide me, dear stone, that I may say, indeed,
Thou art Hermione: or, rather, thou art she,
In thy not chiding: for she was as tender,
As infancy, and grace. But yet, Paulina,
Hermione was not so much wrinkled; nothing
So aged, as this seems.
Pol. O, not by much.
Paul. So much the more our carver's excellence,
Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her
As she liv'd now.
Leon. As now she might have done,
So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood,
Even with such life of majesty, (warm life,
As now it coldly stands,) when first I woo'd her!
am ashamed. Does not the stone rebuke me,
For being more stone than it ?- O, royal piece,
There's magic in thy majesty, which has
My evils conjur'd to remembrance; and
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee!
Per. And give me leave;
And do not say, 'tis superstition, that
kneel, and then implore her blessing.-Lady,
Dear queen, that ended, when I but began,
Give me that hand of yours, to kiss!
Paul. O patience;
The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's
Not dry.
Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on;
Which sixteen winters cannot blow away,
So many summers, dry: scarce any joy
Did ever so long live; no sorrow,
But kill'd itself much sooner.
Pol. Dear my brother,
Let him that was the cause of this, have power
To take off so much grief from you, as he
Will piece up in himself.
Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow; if I do
no wonder, how thou darest venture to be drunk, not
being a tall fellow, trust me not-Hark! the kings and
the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's Paul. Indeed, my lord,
picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy good masters.
If I had thought, the sight of my poor image
[Exeunt. Would thus have wrought you, (for the stone is mine,)
I'd not have show'd it.
Leon. Do not draw the curtain!
You hear, my spell is lawful: do not shun her, Until you see her die again; for then
Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy You kill her double. Nay, present your hand!
May think anon, it moves. Leon. Let be, let be.
Would, I were dead, but that, methinks, alreadyWhat was he that did make it?-See, my lord, Would you not deem, it breath'd? and that those veins Did verily bear blood?
Pol. Masterly done!
The very life seems warm upon her lip.
Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in't, As we are mock'd with art.
Paul. I'll draw the curtain;
My lord's almost so far transported, that
He'll think anon, it lives.
Leon. O sweet Paulina,
Make me to think so twenty years together;
No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness. Let's alone.
Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but I could afflict you further.
Leon. Do, Paulina;
For this affliction has a taste as sweet
As any cordial comfort.-Still, methinks,
There is an air comes from her: what fine chizzel Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her.
Paul. Good my lord, forbear:
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;
You'll marit, if you kiss it; stain your own
With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain?
Leon. No, not these twenty years.
Per. So long could I
Stand by, a looker on.
When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in age,
Is she become the suitor.
Leon. O, she's warm!
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating!
Pol. She embraces him.
Cam. She hangs about his neck;
If she pertain to life, let her speak too.
Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has liv'd, Or, how stolen from the dead?
Paul. That she is living,
Were it but told you, should be hooted at
Like an old tale; but it appears, she lives,
Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while!
Please you to interpose, fair madam; kneel,
And pray your mother's blessing.-Turn, good lady;
Our Perdita is found.
[Presenting Perdita, who kneels to Hermione. Her. You gods, look down,
And from your sacred vials pour your graces
Upon my daughter's head!-Tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? how
found
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I, -
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope, thou wast in being, -have preserv'd
Myself to see the issue.
Paul. There's time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push, to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partake to every one! I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there
My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament, till I am lost.
Leon O peace, Paulina !
Thou should'st a husband take by my consent,
As 1 by thine, a wife: this is a match,
And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;
But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her,
As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many
A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far
(For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee
An honourable husband: - come, Camillo,
And take her by the hand: whose worth and honesty
Is richly noted, and here justified
By us, a pair of kings. - Let's from this place!-
What? Look upon my brother;
SOLINUS, duke of Ephesus.
AEGEON, a merchant of Syracuse.
ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus,
ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse,
DROMIO of Ephesus,
DROMIO of Syracuse,
Twin brothers, and sons to Aegeon and Aemilia, but unknown to each other.
A Merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse.
PINCH, a schoolmaster, and a conjurer.
AEMILIA, wife to Aegeon, an abbess at Ephesus.
ADRIANA, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus.
LUCIANA, her sister.
Twin brothers, and LUCE, her servant.
attendants on the two A Courtezan.
Antipholus's.
Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.
SCENE I.-A hall in the Duke's palace.
Enter Duke, AEGEON, Gaoler, Officers, and other
Aege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all!
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more!
I am not partial to infringe our laws :
The enmity and discord, which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,—
Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives,
Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their bloods,-
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more,
If any, born at Ephesus, be seen
At any Syracusan marts and fairs;
Again, if any Syracusan born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose;
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty, and to ransome him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die.
And soon, and safe, arrived, where I was.
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the selfsame inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike.
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon.
We came aboard:
A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant,
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death;
Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant, what to fear,
Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was,-for other means was none.-
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us.
My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Aege. Yet this my comfort; when your words are Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
done,
My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause
Why thou departedst from thy native home,
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Aege. A heavier task could not have been impos'd,
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable :
Yet that the world may witness, that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
I'll utter, what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born, and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd,
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, 'till my factor's death;
And he (great care of goods at random left)
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months old,
Before herself (almost at fainting under
The pleasing punishment, that women bear,)
Had made provision for her following me,
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast,
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us,
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came, -0, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before!
Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so!
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Aege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us!
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst,
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seiz'd on us,
And, knowing whom it was their hap'to save,
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests,
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail;
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 sad stories of my own mishaps.
Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour, to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now!
Aege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother, and impórtun'd me,
That his attendant, (for his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,)
Might bear him company in the quest of him:
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.
Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought,
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 Aegeon, whom the fates have mark'd
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can.
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help.
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die. -
Gaoler, take him to thy custody!
Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epidamnum, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day, a Syracusan 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 money, that I had to keep.
Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,
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. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean.[Exit Dromio S. Ant. S. 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, And then go to my 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 afterwards consort you till bed-time; My present business calls me from you now. Ant. S. Farewell 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. Ant. S. He, that commends me to mine 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.
Sol, to find a mother, and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanac of my true date. -
What now? How chance, thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too
late:
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock has struck en 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 stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir! tell me this, I pray :
Where have you left the money, that I gave you?
Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last,
To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper? -
The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not.
Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody?
Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner:
I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed;
For she will score your fault upon my pate.
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this!
Where is the gold, I gave in charge to thee?
Dro. E. To me, sir? why you gave no gold to me.
Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foo-
lishness,
And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner; My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
A drop of water in the breaking gulph,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition, or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Should'st thou but hear, I were licentious?
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate?
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?
I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do it.
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:
For, if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed;
I live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured.
Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not:
In Ephesus I am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town, as to your talk ;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd,
Want wit in all one word to understand.
Luc.Fye,brother! how the world is chang'd with you!
When were you wont to use my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.
Ant. S. By Dromio?
Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form.
Dro. S. No, I am an ape.
Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass.
Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass.
'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be,
But I should know her, as well as she knows me.
Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye and weep,
Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn.—
Come, sir, to dinner! Dromio, keep the gate!
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day,
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks :-
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter!
Come, sister: Dromio, play the porter well!
Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping, or waking? mad, or well-advis'd?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd!
I'll say as they say, and perséver so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.
Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate?
Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate.
Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late.
[Exeunt.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus,
ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.
Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us all;
Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return from him,-My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours:
That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.
Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?
What is the course and drift of your compact?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our names,
Unless it be by inspiration?
Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity,
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood?
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt!
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, briar, or idle moss;
Whe, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for her
theme:
What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think, I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy.
Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner!
Dro. S. O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the fairy land. O, spite of spites!
We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites;
If we obey them not, this will ensue,
They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot?
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I?
Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I.
Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my shape.
Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop,
To see the making of her carkanet,
And that to-morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villain, that would face me down
He met me on the mart; and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold;
And that I did deny my wife and house :-
Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?
Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I
know;
That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to
show:
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave,
were ink,
Your own handwriting would tell you, what I think.
Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass.
Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear
By the wrongs, I suffer, and the blows, I bear.
I should kick, being kicked; and being at that pass,
You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.
Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 'pray God,
our cheer
Mayanswer my good will, and your good welcome here.
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your wel-
come dear.
Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh, or fish, A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords.
Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.
Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry
Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing
But though my cates be mean, take them in good part!
Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.
But, soft; my door is lockd; go bid them let us in!
Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen'!
Dro. S. [Within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, cox-
comb, idiot, patch!
|