(Whom I made Lord of me and all I had,
At your important letters) this ill day
A most outrageous fit of madness took him
That defp'rately he hurry'd through the street,
With him his bond-man all as mad as he,
Doing difpleasure to the citizens,

By rushing in their houses; 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 ftrong escape,

He broke from thofe, that had the guard of him;
And, with his mad attendant and himself,
Each one with ireful paffion, with drawn fwords,
Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
Chas'd us away; 'till, raifing of more aid,
We came again to bind them; then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we purfu'd them;
And here the Abbess 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, moft gracious Duke, with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.
Duke. Long fince thy husband ferv'd me in my wars
And I to thee engag'd a Prince's word,

(When thou didst make him master 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 Abhefs come to me.

I will determine this, before I stir.

Enter a Messenger.

Meff. O mistress, mistress, shift and fave yourself; My mafter and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, 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

My mafer preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with fciffars nicks him like a fool :
And, fure, unless you fend fome present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Adr. Peace, fool, thy mafter and his man are here, And that is false, 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. He cries for you, and vows if he can take you, To fcorch 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; 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 reason,
Enter Antipholis, and Dromio of Ephefus.

E. Ant. Juftice, moft gracious Duke, oh, grant me justice,
Even for the service that long fince I did thee,
When I beftrid thee in the wars, and took

Deep fcars to fave thy life, even for the blood
That then I loft for thee, now grant me justice,
Ageon. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I fee my fon Antipholis, and Dromio.

E. Ant. Juftice, sweet Prince, against that woman there ; She whom thou gav't to me to be my wife;

That hath abufed and difhonour'd me,

Ev'n in the frength and height of injury:

Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That the this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me juk.

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

Whilft fhe with harlots feafted in my houfe.

[me

Duke. A grievous fault; fay, woman, didft thou fo? Adr. No, my good Lord: myfelf, he, and my fifter, To-day did dine together: fo befal my foul, As this is false, he burdens me withall

Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor fleep on night, But the tells to your Highness fimple truth!

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

E. Ant. My Liege, I am advised, what I say. Neither difturb'd with the effect of wine, Nor, heady-rafh, provok'd with raging ire; Albeit my wrongs might make one wiler 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 street 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,

A 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 pulse,
And with no-face, as 'twere, out-facing me,
Cries out, I was poffeft. Then all together
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence
And in a dark and dankifh 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 beseech
To give me ample fatisfaction

For thefe deep thames 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 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 filed into this abbey here,
From whence, I think, you're come by miracle.

I

E. Ant. I never came within these abbey-walls,
Nor ever didst thou draw thy fword on me;
I never faw the chain, fo 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 goldsmith here
Denies that faying. Sirrah, what say 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.

[Exit one to the Abbess. Egeon. Moft mighty Duke, vouchfafe me fpeak a word s Haply I fee a friend will fave my life;

And pay the fum that may deliver me.

Duke Speak freely, Syracufan, what thou wilt.

Ægeon.

Egeon. Is not your name, Sir, call'd Antipholis ? And is not that your bond-man Dromio ?

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.

Egeon. I am fure, you both of you remember met 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?

Ege. Why look you ftrange on me? you know me well. E. Ant. I never faw you in my life, 'till now.

Eg. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, fince you faw me last; And careful hours with time's deformed hand

Have written ftrange defeatures in my face;
"But tell me yet, doft thou not know my voice ?
E. Ant. Neither.

Egeon. Dromio, nor thou?

E. Dro. No, truft me, Sir, nor I.
Egeon. I am fure, thou doft.

E. Dro. I, Sir? but I am fure, I do not; and whatfor
ever 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 feven 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 thefe old witneffefs, 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: