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Enter Duke attended; Ægeon bare-headed ; with
the Headsman and other Officers. Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, If any friends will pay the sum for him, He shall not die, so much we tender him. Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the
abbess! Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady: It cannot be, that she hath done thee wrong. Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my
husband, 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 desperately he hurried through the street, (With him his bondman, all as mad as he,) Doing displeasure 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 sent him home, Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went, That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with bis mad attendant and himself
, Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Chas'd us away; till, raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursued them; And here the abbess shuts the gates on us, And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command, Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for
help. Duke. Long since thy husband serv'd me in my
Enter a Servant.
self. My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, Whose beard they have sing'd off with brands of
That he is borne about invisible :
Enter AntiPHOLUS and Dromio of Ephesus.
me justice, Even for the service that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice Æge. Unless the fear of death doth make me
dote, I see my son Antipholus, and Dronio! Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that wo
man there! She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife That hath abused and dishonour'd me, Even in the strength and height of injury. Beyond imagination is the wrong, That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors
upon me, While she with harlots feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault. Say, woman, did'st thou
so? Adr. No, my good lord: myself, he, and my
sister, To-day did dine together. So befal my soul, As this is false he burdens me withal.
Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, But she tells to your highness simple truth.
Ang. O perjur'd woman! They are both for
In this the madman justly chargeth them.
Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say; Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash provok'd with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner: That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her. Could witness it, for he was with me then; Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porcupine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together. 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, 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. This pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face, as 'twere, out-facing me, Cries out, I was possess'd. Then, altogether They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a dark and dankish vault at home
And ever as it blazed they threw on him
Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breath'd almost, since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you.
[Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress : fly, be gone. Duke. Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard
with halberds! Adr. Ah me, it is iny husband! Witness you,
There left me and my man, both bound together; Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tonguo Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, In seven short years, that here my only son 1 gain d my freedom, and immediately
Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares ? Ran hither to your grace, whom I beseech
Though now this grained face of mine be bid To give me ample satisfaction
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, For these deep shames, and great indignities. And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with Yet hath my night of life some memory, him,
My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out. My dull, deaf ears a little use to hear :
Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? All these old witnesses (I cannot err)
Ang. He had, my lord; and when he ran in here, Tell me thou art my son Antipholus. These people saw the chain about his neck.
Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine Æge. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Heard you confess you had the chain of him, Thou know'st we parted. But, perhaps, my son, After you first forswore it on the mart,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you;
Ant. E. The duke, and all that know me in the And then you fled into this abbey here,
city, From whence, I think, you are come by iniracle. Can witness with me that it is not so.
Ant. E. I never came within these abbey walls, I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. Nor ever did'st thou draw thy sword on me.
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years I never saw the chain, so help me heaven!
Have I been patron to Antipholus,
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa.
Enter Abbess, with Antipholus of Syracuse, and If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly :
Dromo of Syracuse. You say, he dined at home; the goldsmith here Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much Denies that saying.–Sirrah, what say you ?
[All gather to see them. Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her, there, at the Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive Porcupine.
me ! Cour. He did, and from my finger spatch'd that Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other; ring.
And so of these : which is the natural man, Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of | And which the spirit ? Who deciphers them ? her.
Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio: command him away. Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here? Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio: pray let me stay. Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. Ant. S. Ægeon, art thou not? or else his ghost ? Duke. Why, this is strange.—Go call the abbess Dro. S. O, my old master! who hath bound him hither.
here? I think you are all mated, or stark mad.
Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,
[Erit an Attendant. And gain a husband by his liberty:Æge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be'st the man word.
That hadst a wife once called Æmilia, Haply, I see a friend will save my life,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons. And pay the sum that may deliver me.
0! if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak, Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. And speak unto the same Æmilia!
Æge. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus, Æge. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia. And is not that your bondman Dromio?
If thou art she, tell me, where is that son Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, That floated with thee on the fatal raft?
Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords : And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.
But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth Æge. I am sure you both of you remember me. By force took Dromio and my son from them, Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you; And me they left with those of Epidamnum: For lately we were bound, as you are now.
What then became of them, I cannot tell; You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir ?
I, to this fortune that you see me in. Æge. Why look you strange on me? you know Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right. me well.
These two Antipholus', these two so like,
These are the parents to these children,
Duke. Stay, stand apart: I kuow not which is Æge. Dromio, nor thou ?
which. Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious Æge. I am sure thou dost.
lord. Dro. E. Ay, sir; but I am sure I do not; and Dro. E. And I with him. whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most fabelieve him.
mous warrior, Æge. Not know iny voice? O, time's extremity! Duke Mena phon, your most renowned uncle.
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so;
Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received from you. And Dromio, my man, did bring them me. I see, we still did meet each other's man, And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose.
Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. Duke. It shall not need : thy father hath his life. Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks for
my good cheer. Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here, And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes ; And all that are assembled in this place, That by this sympathized one day's error Have suffered wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction. Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons; and 'till this present hour
My heavy burden ne'er delivered.-
Merchant, ANGELO, and Attendants.
ship-board ? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou
embark'd ? Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the
[E.ceunt all, except the two Dromio brothers. Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's
house, That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner: She now shall be my sister, not my wife. Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not my
Dro. S. Not I, sir ; you are my elder.
Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior : till then, lead thou first.
Dro. E. Nay, then thus: We came into the world, like brother and brother : And now, let's go hand in hand, not one before
ACT I.-SCENE I.
SCENE II. “ It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
“Soon at five o'clock”-i. e. About five o'clock. Iv Both by the Syracusians and ourselves,
act iii. scene 2, we have “soon at supper-time." Soon To admit no traffic to our adverse torons," etc. at night,” is a common expression. “ The offence which Ægeon had committed, and the penalty which he had incurred, are pointed out with a
"-CONFOUNDS himself”—This is explained by what minuteness by which the Poet doubtless intended to
Antipholus afterwards says,convey his sense of the gross injustice of such enact
So I, to find a mother and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself;ments. In the TAMING OF THE SHREW, written most probably about the same period as the COMEDY OF
as a drop is lost in the sea, and confounded with the ERRORS, the jealousies of commercial states, exhibiting
mass of waters. themselves in violent decrees and impracticable regula “Here comes the ALMANACK of my true date"-i. e. tions, are also depicted by the same powerful hand.” Because he and Dromio were born at the same hour. KNIGHT.
He mistakes Dromio of Ephesus for his own man. "Was wrought by nature"—Not by any criminal
“Are PENITENT for your default to-day”—In the sense intention.
of doing penance. " Unwilling I agreed. Alas, too soon we came aboard!" “— SCORE your fault upon my pate”—The reference
With Collier we adhere to the reading of the folios. is here to the custom of keeping a score upon a post, Almost all the other editors print, on their own author instead of entering the item in a book. ity, thus:- I agreed; alas, too soon.
“- is O'ER-RAUGHT OF”-i. e. Over-reached. We came aboard ;The obvious meaning is, that they came " aboard too
ACT II.-SCENE I. soon," as a storm immediately followed.
some other WHERE"-i. e. Somewhere else, as " 80 his case was like"—“So” is the reading of the we now familiarly express it. Johnson suggests that first folio—not for, as in many editions: his case was so
we should read “start some other hare," and Stevens like that of Antipholus.
is for taking " where” as a noun; but no alteration is
required. Adriana says afterwards, “I know his eye “ To seek thy HELP by benfiecial Help"-Pope and || doth homage other where." other editors would substitute life for "help," where it first occurs. Stevens recommends means for “help," at
“ This FOOL-BEGG'd patience"-"She seems,” says the end of the line. Collier suggests
Johnson, " to mean by fool-begg'd patience,' that pa
tience which is so near to idiotical simplicity, that your To seek thy hope by beneficial help.
next relation would take advantage from it to represent That is, to seek what you hope by beneficial help to you as a fool, and beg the guardianship of your fortune." acquire—money for your ransom. This is consistent This would seem a far-fetched interpretation, were it with Ægeon's exclamation just afterwards,—" Hopeless not evident from other dramatic writers, even as late as and helpless doth Ægeon wend," etc. The folios have Congreve, that this abuse of that regal prerogative was it as it stands in the text.
a familiar source of sarcastic allusion.
“ — and withal so doubt fully, that I could scarce un “ I live disstain'd”-i. e. Say all the commentators. DERSTAND them"-i. e. “ Stand under them. We have unstained. All the old editions have disstained; and the same quibble in the Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA disstain is universally used by Shakespeare for slain. I
My staff understands me.' Milton does not hesitate therefore think it an error of the press or the copyist for to make Belial, 'in gamesome mood,' use a similar play unstained, but have not judged it right to insert this upon words. (See · Paradise Lost,' book vi. 625.)"— conjecture in the text, against ihe authority of all editions, KNIGHT.
old and modern, without the absolute certainty that dis
stain was never used anciently in this sense. “Am I 80 ROUND with you, as you with me"—"To be round with any one is to be plain spoken; as, in Ham “ Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine". 66 When LET—Let her be round with him. Dromio uses the Milton uses this classical image, in · Paradise Lost,'word in a double sense, when he alludes to the foot
they led the vine ball."-KNIGHT.
To wed the elm; she, spous'd, about him twines
Her marrriageable arms,“Whilst I at home starve for a merry look"-"In the annotators of our great epic poet naturally give us Shakespeare's Forty-seventh Sonnet, there is a similar the parallel passages in Catullus, in Ovid, in Virgil, and phrase :
in Horace. Shakespeare unquestionably had the image When that mine eye was famished for a look.
from the same sources. Farmer does not notice this Also, in the Seventy-fifth :
passage; but had he done so, he would, of course, have
shown that there were translations of the Georgics' Sometimes all full with feeding on his sight,
and the · Metamorphoses' when this play was written. And, by and by, clean started for a look.
It appears to us that this line of Shakespeare's is neither My decayed Fair"-"Fair" is used for fairness, in
a translation, nor an imitation, of any of the well-known the sense of beauty, by the writers of Shakespeare's
classical passages; but a transfusion of the spirit of the time, and by himself in his Sonnets.
ancient poets by one who was familiar with them.”—
Knight. " – poor I am but his STALE"_“Stale" here means,
“ This is the fairy land"-" In the first act we have as Stevens thinks, a pretended wife: the stalking-horse,
a description of the unlawful arts of Ephesus. It was or pretended horse, behind which sportsmen shot, was
observed by Capell, that the character given of Ephesometimes called “a stale.” I rather think, with John
sus in this place is the very same that it had with the son and Singer, that it is used in the sense of something
ancients, which may pass for some note of the Poet's cast off, become stale, which sense is supported by the
learning.' It was scarcely necessary, however, for old dictionaries.
Shakespeare to search for this ancient character of Ephe“ Would that alone, Alone he would remain"-" The sus in more recondite sources than the interesting narmeaning is—I wish he would only detain me from the
rative of St. Paul's visit to that city, given in the xixth chain alone. The first folio has it, “Would that alone chapter of the · Acts.' In the 13th verse we find men. a love he would detain,' which the second folio cor
tion of certain of the vagabond Jews, ezorcists;' and rected."'-COLLIER.
in the 19th verse we are told that many of them also
which used curious arts brought their books together, - corruption doth it SHAME"-In the folio of 1623, and burned them before all men.' The ancient prothis passage stands literatim as follows:
verbial term, Ephesian Letters, was used to express I see the lewell best enameled
every kind of charm or spell."-KNIGHT.
“We talk with goblins, owls, and elvisk sprites"Where gold and no man that hath a name,
Theobald changed" owls” to ouphes, upon the plea By falshood and corruption doth it shaine.
that owls could not suck breath and pinch. Warburton The passage is evidently so grossly misprinted, that maintains that the owl here is the striz of the ancientsit is impossible to ascertain precisely the true reading. the destroyer of the cradled infantAll the editors, Pope, Warburton, Stevens, etc., have Nocte volant, puerosque petunt nutricis egentes, tried their hands at it. We have followed Collier, not
Et vitiant cunis corpora rapta suis.-Orid. Fasti. lib. vi. as certainly right, but being probably as near as any. “ And Shrive you”-i. e. Take confession from you. The meaning will then be I see that the jewel best
Shrift is confession. enamelled will lose his beauty: yet though gold that others touch remains gold, an often touching will wear gold; no man with a name willingly shames it by false
ACT III.-SCENE I. hood and corruption.
the making of her CARKANET”-i. e. Necklace:
in this instance it means a chain to be worn round the SCENE II.
neck. " I must get a sconce for my head, and insCONCE it
“ – the doors are made against you"-Several edi. too"-Dromio's joke depends upon the double meaning
tors have altered this, which is the original text, to of “sconce," a head, or, a small fortification. The verb * the doors are barred," supposing “made" to be a to in sconce is used in the old poets for “ fortifying one's misprint; but “make the door” is still a provincial self."
phrase, signifying to "bar the door." “ May he not do it by FINE and RECOVERY”—In this,
"Once this”—“This expression puzzled Malone and (says Knight,) as in all Shakespeare's early plays, and
Stevens, who did not perceive that it was elliptical, and in his Poems, we have the professional jokes of the at
meant, · For once let me tell you this.'"-COLLIER. torney's office in abundance.
“And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry"— The That never words were music to thine car”—Thus meaning is
, says Warburton, “I will be merry even out
of spite to mirth, which is now of all things the most Imitated by Pope, in his “ Sappho to Phaon:"
unpleasing to me."
SCENE II. “ Be it my wrong, you are from me EXEMPT"—“Ex
“ Not mad, but MATED"-Those words which follow empt” is here used in the sense of separated or parted; "mated' how, I do not know”-support the notion as, in the first part of HENRY VI. :
of Monck Mason, that a play was intended on the double And by his reason stand'st thou not attainted,
meaning of mated," as confounded and bewildered, or, Corrupted, and cxempt from ancient gentry !
malched with a wife.