Volume 1 / Act 5 — V. 1 Scene I. A street before a Priory.

Ang. I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder’d you; But, I protest, he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.

5 Ang. Of very reverent reputation, sir, Of credit infinite, highly beloved, Second to none that lives here in the city: His word might bear my wealth at any time.

10 Ang. ’Tis so; and that self chain about his neck, Which he forswore most monstrously to have. Good sir, draw near to me, I’ll speak to him; Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble; 15 And, not without some scandal to yourself, With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain which now you wear so openly: Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend; 20 Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day: This chain you had of me; can you deny it?

Sec. Mer. These ears of mine, thou know’st, did hear thee. Fie on thee, wretch! ’tis pity that thou livest To walk where any honest men resort.

Ant. S. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus: 30 I’ll prove mine honour and mine honesty Against thee presently, if thou darest stand.

Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God’s sake! he is mad. Some get within him, take his sword away: 35 Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.

Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God’s sake, take a house! This is some priory.—In, or we are spoil’d!

Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. 40 Let us come in, that we may bind him fast, And bear him home for his recovery.

45 Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, And much different from the man he was; But till this afternoon his passion Ne’er brake into extremity of rage.

Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? 50 Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray’d his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevailing much in youthful men, Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrows is he subject to?

55 Adr. To none of these, except it be the last; Namely, some love that drew him oft from home.

Abb.

Ay, but not rough enough.

60 Adr.

And in assemblies too.

Adr. It was the copy of our conference: In bed, he slept not for my urging it; At board, he fed not for my urging it; 65 Alone, it was the subject of my theme; In company I often glanced it; Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad:— The venom clamours of a jealous woman, 70 Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. It seems his sleeps were hinder’d by thy railing: And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou say’st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings: Unquiet meals make ill digestions; 75 Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; And what’s a fever but a fit of madness? Thou say’st his sports were hinder’d by thy brawls: Sweet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue But moody and dull melancholy, 80 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturb’d, would mad or man or beast: 85 The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.

Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean’d himself rough, rude, and wildly. Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not?

90 Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. Good people, enter, and lay hold on him.

Abb. Neither: he took this place for sanctuary, 95 And it shall privilege him from your hands Till I have brought him to his wits again, Or lose my labour in assaying it.

Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office, 100 And will have no attorney but myself; And therefore let me have him home with me.

Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir Till I have used the approved means I have, With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers, 105 To make of him a formal man again: It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order. Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.

Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here: 110 And ill it doth beseem your holiness To separate the husband and the wife.

Adr. Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet, 115 And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his Grace to come in person hither, And take perforce my husband from the abbess.

Sec. Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five: Anon, I’m sure, the Duke himself in person 120 Comes this way to the melancholy vale, The place of death and sorry execution, Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

Sec. Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, 125 Who put unluckily into this bay Against the laws and statutes of this town, Beheaded publicly for his offence.

130 Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, If any friend will pay the sum for him, He shall not die; so much we tender him.

Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady: 135 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; 140 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. 145 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; 150 And with his mad attendant and himself, Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Chased us away; till, raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled 155 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 160 Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.

Duke. Long since thy husband served me in my wars; And I to thee engaged a prince’s word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. 165 Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate, And bid the lady abbess come to me. I will determine this before I stir.

Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself! My master and his man are both broke loose, 170 Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire; And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair: My master preaches patience to him, and the while 175 His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; And sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Adr. Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here; And that is false thou dost report to us.

180 Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breathed 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!

Adr. Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you, That he is borne about invisible: Even now we housed him in the abbey here; And now he’s there, past thought of human reason.

190 Ant. E. Justice, most gracious Duke, O, 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.

195 Æge. 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 gavest to me to be my wife, That hath abused and dishonour’d me 200 Even in the strength and height of injury: Beyond imagination is the wrong That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.

Ant. E. This day, great Duke, she shut the doors upon me, 205 While she with harlots feasted in my house.

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!

210 Luc. Ne’er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, But she tells to your Highness simple truth!

Ang. O perjured woman! They are both forsworn: In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say; 215 Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash, provoked 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, 220 Could witness it, for he was with me then; Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, 225 I went to seek him: in the street I met him, And in his company that gentleman. There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him received the chain, Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which 230 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. 235 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-faced villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, 240 A needy, hollow-eyed, 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, 245 Cries out, I was possess’d. Then all together 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, 250 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, 255 That he dined not at home, but was lock’d out.

Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck.

Sec. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine 260 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.

265 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! 270 I think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup. If here you housed 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?

280 Duke. Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither. I think you are all mated, or stark mad.

Æge. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word: Haply I see a friend will save my life, And pay the sum that may deliver me.

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: 290 Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound.

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?

Æge. O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with time’s deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face: 300 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

Dro. E.

No, trust me, sir, nor I.

Æge. 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 untuned cares? 310 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 lamps some fading glimmer left, 315 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: All these old witnesses—I cannot err— Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.

Æge. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, 320 Thou know’st we parted: but perhaps, my son, Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery.

Ant. E. The Duke and all that know me in the city Can witness with me that it is not so: I ne’er saw Syracusa in my life.

325 Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne’er saw Syracusa: I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other; And so of these. Which is the natural man, And which the spirit? who deciphers them?

Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty. 340 Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be’st the man That hadst a wife once call’d Æmilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: O, if thou be’st the same Ægeon, speak, And speak unto the same Æmilia!

345 Æge. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia: If thou art she, tell me where is that son That floated with thee on the fatal raft?

Abb. By men of Epidamnum he and I And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; 350 But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamnum. What then became of them I cannot tell; I to this fortune that you see me in.

355 Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right: These two Antipholuses, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance,— Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,— These are the parents to these children, 360 Which accidentally are met together. Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first?

Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous warrior. Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.

Adr.

And are not you my husband?

Ant. S. And so do I; yet did she call me so: And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother. [To Lucia.] What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good; 375 If this be not a dream I see and hear.

380 Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, By Dromio; but I think he brought it not.

Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me. 385 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.

390 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;— 395 And all that are assembled in this place, That by this sympathized one day’s error Have suffer’d wrong, go keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.— Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail 400 Of you, my sons; and till this present hour My heavy burthen ne’er delivered. The Duke, my husband, and my children both, And you the calendars of their nativity, Go to a gossips’ feast, and go with me; 405 After so long grief, such nativity!

Duke. With all my heart, I’ll gossip at this feast.

Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from ship-board?

Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark’d?

Dro. S. Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.

410 Ant. S. He speaks to me. —I am your master, Dromio: Come, go with us; we’ll look to that anon: Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.

Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master’s house, That kitchen’d me for you to-day at dinner: 415 She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

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 another.

‘I could not speak with Dromio since at first I sent him from the mart.’

‘Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.’

‘Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth.’

‘By the way we met My wife....’