Act 1 — [Scene III.]

Vio. What ’s a’clock now? 2 Pren. ’T is almost twelve. Vio. That ’s well, The Senate will leave wording presently: But is George ready? 2 Pren. Yes, forsooth, he ’s furbisht. Vio. Now, as you ever hope to win my favour, Throw both your duties and respects on him5 With the like awe as if he were your master; Let not your looks betray it with a smile Or jeering glance to any customer; Keep a true settled countenance, and beware You laugh not, whatsoe’er you hear or see.10

Vio. Enough then, call down George. 2 Pren. I hear him coming.

Vio. Be ready with your legs[2416] then; let me see How courtesy would become him.—Gallantly! Beshrew my blood, a proper seemly man.20 Of a choice carriage, walks with a good port! Geo. I thank you, mistress, my back ’s broad enough, now my master’s gown ’s on. Vio. Sure, I should think it were the least of sin, To mistake the master, and to let him in.25 Geo. ’T were a good Comedy of Errors that, i’ faith. 2 Pren. Whist, whist! my master.

Vio. Sure he ’s vext now, this trick has mov’d his spleen, He ’s anger’d now, because he utt’red nothing; And wordless wrath breaks out more violent. May be he ’ll strive for place, when he comes down,45 But if thou lov’st me, George, afford him none.

What, cross-points? I ’ll untie ’em all in a trice: I ’ll vex you i’ faith: boy take your cloak, quick, come. Exit [with 1 Prentice]. Cand. Be covered, George, this chain and welted[2418] gown Bare to this coat? Then the world ’s upside down. Geo. Umh, umh, hum.75 Cram. That ’s the shop, and there ’s the fellow. Poli. Ay, but the master is walking in there. Cram. No matter, we ’ll in. Poli. ’Sblood, dost long to lie in limbo? Cram. An limbo be in hell, I care not.80 Cand. Look you, gentlemen, your choice: cambrics? Cram. No, sir, some shirting. Cand. You shall. Cram. Have you none of this strip’d canvas for doublets?85 Cand. None strip’d, sir, but plain. 2 Pren. I think there be one piece strip’d within. Geo. Step, sirrah, and fetch it, hum, hum, hum.

Cram. Then ’t is better than you, sirrah. Cand. Ay, and a number more. Oh, that each soul Were but as spotless as this innocent white,95 And had as few breaks in it! Cram. ’T would have some then: There was a fray here last day in this shop. Cand. There was, indeed, a little flea-biting. Poli. A gentleman had his pate broke; call you that but a flea-biting?100 Cand. He had so. Cram. Zounds, do you stand to it? He strikes him. Geo. ’Sfoot, clubs, clubs! Prentices, down with ’em! [Enter several Prentices with clubs, who disarm Crambo and Poli.] Ah, you rogues, strike a citizen in ’s shop? Cand. None of you stir, I pray; forbear, good George.105 Cram. I beseech you, sir, we mistook our marks; deliver us our weapons. Geo. Your head bleeds, sir; cry clubs! Cand. I say you shall not; pray be patient, Give them their weapons. Sirs, y’ are best be gone;110 I tell you here are boys more tough than bears. Hence, lest more fists do walk about your ears. Cram., Poli. We thank you, sir. Exeunt. Cand. You shall not follow them; Let them alone, pray; this did me no harm. Troth, I was cold, and the blow made me warm, I thank ’em for ’t: besides, I had decreed[2419]116 To have a vein prickt, I did mean to bleed: So that there ’s money sav’d. They ’re honest men, Pray use ’em well when they appear again.119 Geo. Yes, sir, we ’ll use ’em like honest men.

Vio. Yonder he stands. 1 Off. What in a prentice-coat? Vio. Ay, ay; mad, mad; pray take heed.125 Cand. How now! what news with them? What make they with my wife? Officers, is she attach’d?—Look to your wares. Vio. He talks to himself: oh, he ’s much gone indeed. 1 Off. Pray, pluck up a good heart, be not so fearful:130 Sirs, hark, we ’ll gather to him by degrees. Vio. Ay, ay, by degrees I pray. Oh me! What makes he with the lawn in his hand? He ’ll tear all the ware in my shop.134 1 Off. Fear not, we ’ll catch him on a sudden. Vio. Oh! you had need do so; pray take heed of your warrant. 1 Off. I warrant, mistress. Now, Signor Candido. Cand. Now, sir, what news with you, sir? Vio. What news with you? he says: oh, he ’s far gone!140 1 Off. I pray, fear nothing; let ’s alone with him. Signor, you look not like yourself, methinks,— Steal you a’ t’ other side;—you ’re chang’d, you ’re alt’red. Cand. Chang’d sir, why true, sir. Is change strange? ’T is not The fashion unless it alter! Monarchs turn145 To beggars, beggars creep into the nests Of princes, masters serve their prentices, Ladies their serving-men, men turn to women. 1 Off. And women turn to men. Cand. Ay, and women turn to men, you say true. Ha, ha, a mad world, a mad world.151 [Officers seize Candido.] 1 Off. Have we caught you, sir? Cand. Caught me? Well, well, you have caught me. Vio. He laughs in your faces. Geo. A rescue, prentices! my master ’s catch-poll’d.155 1 Off. I charge you, keep the peace, or have your legs Gartered with irons! We have from the duke A warrant strong enough for what we do. Cand. I pray, rest quiet, I desire no rescue. Vio. La, he desires no rescue, ’las poor heart,160 He talks against himself. Cand. Well, what ’s the matter? 1 Off. Look to that arm. Pray, make sure work, double the cord. [Officers bind Candido.] Cand. Why, why? Vio. Look how his head goes. Should he get but loose,165 Oh ’t were as much as all our lives were worth! 1 Off. Fear not, we ’ll make all sure for our own safety. Cand. Are you at leisure now? Well, what ’s the matter? Why do I enter into bonds thus, ha? 1 Off. Because y ’are mad, put fear upon your wife.170 Vio. Oh ay, I went in danger of my life every minute. Cand. What, am I mad, say you, and I not know it? 1 Off. That proves you mad, because you know it not. Vio. Pray talk to him as little as you can,175 You see he ’s too far spent. Cand. Bound, with strong cord! A sister’s thread, i’ faith, had been enough, To lead me anywhere.—Wife, do you long? You are mad too, or else you do me wrong. Geo. But are you mad indeed, master? Cand. My wife says so,180 And what she says, George, is all truth, you know.— And whither now, to Bethlem Monastery? Ha! whither? 1 Off. Faith, e’en to the madmen’s pound. Cand. A’ God’s name! still I feel my patience sound. Exeunt [Officers with Candido].

Vio. I think I ha’ fitted you now, you and your clothes. If this move not his patience, nothing can;190 I ’ll swear then I ’ve a saint, and not a man. [Exit.]

Duke. Give us a little leave. [Exeunt Fluello, Castruchio, and Pioratto.] Doctor, your news. Doct. I sent for him, my lord; at last he came, And did receive all speech that went from me, As gilded pills made to prolong his health.4 My credit with him wrought it; for some men Swallow even empty hooks, like fools that fear No drowning where ’t is deepest, ’cause ’t is clear. In th’ end we sat and eat: a health I drank To Infelice’s sweet departed soul. This train[2421] I knew would take. Duke. ’T was excellent.10 Doct. He fell with such devotion on his knees, To pledge the same— Duke. Fond, superstitious fool! Doct. That had he been inflam’d with zeal of prayer, He could not pour ’t out with more reverence. About my neck he hung, wept on my cheek,15 Kist it, and swore he would adore my lips, Because they brought forth Infelice’s name. Duke. Ha, ha! alack, alack. Doct. The cup he lifts up high, and thus he said; “Here, noble maid!”—drinks, and was poisoned.20 Duke. And died? Doct. And died, my lord. Duke. Thou in that word Hast piec’d mine aged hours out with more years Than thou hast taken from Hippolito. A noble youth he was, but lesser branches24 Hind’ring the greater’s growth, must be lopt off, And feed the fire. Doctor, we ’re now all thine, And use us so: be bold. Doct. Thanks, gracious lord— My honoured lord:— Duke. Hum. Doct. I do beseech your grace to bury deep, This bloody act of mine. Duke. Nay, nay, for that,30 Doctor, look you to ’t, me it shall not move; They ’re curst that ill do, not that ill do love. Doct. You throw an angry forehead on my face: But be you pleas’d backward thus far to look, That for your good, this evil I undertook—35 Duke. Ay, ay, we conster[2422] so. Doct. And only for your love. Duke. Confest: ’tis true. Doct. Nor let it stand against me as a bar To thrust me from your presence; nor believe As princes have quick thoughts, that now my finger40 Being dipt in blood, I will not spare the hand, But that for gold,—as what can gold not do?— I may be hir’d to work the like on you. Duke. Which to prevent— Doct. ’T is from my heart as far. Duke. No matter, doctor; ’cause I’ll fearless sleep,45 And that you shall stand clear of that suspicion, I banish thee for ever from my court. This principle is old, but true as fate, Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate. Exit. Doct. Is’t so? Nay then, duke, your stale principle,50 With one as stale, the doctor thus shall quit. He falls himself that digs another’s pit. Enter the Doctor’s Man. How now! where is he? will he not meet me?

Doct. Leave me.61 Man. I’th’ lurch, if you will. Exit. Doct. O my most noble friend! Hip. Few but yourself, Could have entic’d me thus, to trust the air With my close sighs. You sent for me; what news?65 Doct. Come, you must doff this black, dye that pale cheek Into his own colour, go, attire yourself Fresh as a bridegroom when he meets his bride. The duke has done much treason to thy love; ’T is now reveal’d, ’t is now to be reveng’d.70 Be merry, honour’d friend, thy lady lives. Hip. What lady? Doct. Infelice, she’s reviv’d. Reviv’d? Alack! death never had the heart, To take breath from her. Hip. Umh: I thank you, sir, Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save;75 This helps not my hopes, mine are in their grave, You do some wrong to mock me. Doct. By that love Which I have ever borne you, what I speak Is truth: the maiden lives; that funeral,79 Duke’s tears, the mourning, was all counterfeit. A sleepy draught coz’ned the world and you: I was his minister, and then chamb’red up, To stop discovery. Hip. O treacherous duke! Doct. He cannot hope so certainly for bliss, As he believes that I have poison’d you.85 He woo’d me to ’t; I yielded, and confirm’d him In his most bloody thoughts. Hip. A very devil! Doct. Her did he closely coach to Bergamo, And thither— Hip. Will I ride. Stood Bergamo89 In the low countries of black hell, I’ll to her. Doct. You shall to her, but not to Bergamo. How passion makes you fly beyond yourself! Much of that weary journey I ha’ cut off; For she by letters hath intelligence Of your supposed death, her own interment,95 And all those plots which that false duke, her father, Has wrought against you; and she’ll meet you— Hip. Oh, when? Doct. Nay, see; how covetous are your desires. Early to-morrow morn. Hip. Oh where, good father?100 Doct. At Bethlem Monastery: are you pleas’d now? Hip. At Bethlem Monastery! The place well fits; It is the school where those that lose their wits Practise again to get them. I am sick Of that disease; all love is lunatic.105 Doct. We’ll steal away this night in some disguise. Father Anselmo, a most reverend friar, Expects our coming; before whom we’ll lay Reasons so strong, that he shall yield in bands Of holy wedlock to tie both your hands.110 Hip. This is such happiness, That to believe it, ’t is impossible. Doct. Let all your joys then die in misbelief; I will reveal no more. Hip. O yes, good father, I am so well acquainted with despair,115 I know not how to hope: I believe all. Doct. We ’ll hence this night. Much must be done, much said; But if the doctor fail not in his charms, Your lady shall ere morning fill these arms. Hip. Heavenly physician! for thy fame shall spread,119 That mak’st two lovers speak when they be dead. Exeunt.