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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
Adr. Ah me, it is my husband' Witness you, That he is borne about invisible: Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; And now he's there, past thought of human reason.
Enter ANT1PHolus and DRom 10 of Ephesus.
Ant. E. Justice, mostgracious duke, oh, grant 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. AEge. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio. Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman 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, didst thou
Adr. No, my good lord;—myself, he, and my
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. Operjur'd woman! They are both forsworn,
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 vil-
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, outfacing 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
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 shames and great indignities.
Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with
- him ; -
That he dined not at home but was lock'd out.
Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no 2
Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here,
These people saw the chain about his neck.
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.
Ant. E. 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 :
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 dined at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying:—Sirrah, what say you?
Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the Por-
cupine. - a
Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd that
Ant. E. "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
hither ; -
I think you are all mated,4 or stark mad.
w [Erit an Attendant.
Age. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a
Haply I see a friend will save my life,
And pay the sum that may deliver me.
Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.
Æge. Is not your name, sir, call’d Antipholus
And is not that your bondman Dromio
Dro. E. 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. . Age. I am sure, you both of you remember me. Dro. E. 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? Age. Why look you strange on me? you know me well. Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. Age. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last; 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 Ant. E. Neither.
AEge. Dromio, nor thou ?
Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
AEge. I am sure, thou dost.
Dro. E. Ay, sir? but I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.
AEge. Not know my voice! O, time's extremity! 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 untun'd 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 lamp some fading glimmer left,