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Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? | But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her, [I, As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said

how found

Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being,-have preserv❜d
Myself, to see the issue.

Paul. There's time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partaket to every one. 1, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and

My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.

Leon. O peace, Paulina;

Thou should'st a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,
And made between's by vows. Thou hast
found mine;

You who by this discovery have gained what you de.
+ Participate.


A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far
| (For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee
An honourable husband:-Come, Camillo,
And take her by the hand: whose worth,

Is richly noted; and here justified
By us, a pair of kings.-Let's from this place.-
What?-Look upon my brother!-both your

That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king, (whom heavens direct-
Is troth-plight to your daughter.-Good Pau-
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away.


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SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus.
ÆGEON, a Merchant of Syracuse.

ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus,
ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse,

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A MERCHANT, Friend to Antipholus of Syra


Brothers, PINCH, a Schoolmaster, and a Conjuror.

and Sons to E

geon and Emi-EMILIA, Wife to Egeon, an Abbess at Ephesus.
fia, but unknown ADRIANA, Wife to Antipholus of Ephesus.
LUCIANA, her Sister.
LUCE, her Servant.

to each other.

Twin Brothers, and
Attendants on the
two Antipholus's.


Jailer, Officers, and other Attendants.
SCENE, Ephesus.


SCENE 1.-A Hall in the DUKE's Palace.
Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Jailer, Officer, and other

Ege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial, to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord, which of late [duke
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,-
Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives,
Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their

Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
"Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more,

If any, born at Ephesus, be seen
At any Syracusan marts+ and fairs,
Again, If any Syracusan born,
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose;
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty, and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die.
ge. Yet this my comfort; when your words
are done,

My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the


Why thou departedst from thy native home;
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Ege. A heavier task could not have been

Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable :
Yet, that the world may witness, that my end
Was wrought by nature,‡ not by vile offence,

Name of a coin. † Markets. Natural affection.

I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd,
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, till my factor's death;
And he (great care of goods at random left)
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months
Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear,)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was,
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons; [other,
And, which was strange, the one so like the
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon.
We came aboard:

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd.
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death;
Which, though myself would gladly have em-

Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to

Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was,-for other means was none.—
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:


My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came,-O, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by what went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break
off so;

For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless us!
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five

We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst,
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seiz'd on us;
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd


And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
And therefore homeward did they bend their


Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sor-

rowest for,

Do me the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest
At eighteen years became inquisitive [care,
After his brother; and impórtun'd me,
That his attendant, (for his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,)
Might bear him company in the quest of him:
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.

Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming cleant through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought,
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warrant me they live.
Duke. Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have


To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
* Deprived.
† Clear, completely,


And passed sentence may not be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can:
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help :
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
Jailer, take him to thy custody,
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die:-
Jail. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ægeon

But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—A public Place,

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse,

Mer. Therefore, give out, yon are of Epi-

Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day, a Syracusan merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.

Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where
we host,

And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time:

Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
And then return, and sleep within mine inn;

Get thee away.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your

And go indeed, having so good a mean.
[Exit DRO. 8.

Ant. S. A trusty villain,+ Sir; that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
What, will you walk with me about the town,
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
And then go to my inn, and dine with me?

Mer. I am invited, Sír, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit;
Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,§
I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock,
And afterwards consort you till bed-time;
My present business calls me from you now.
Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose
And wander up and down, to view the city.
Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own con-
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own



That in the ocean seeks another drop;
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So I, to find a mother, and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanack of my true date,-
What now? How chance, thou art return'd so

Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd

too late :

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
* Go.

I. e. Servant.

The sign of their hotel.
Exchange, market-place.

She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no

You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this,
I pray ;

[you? Where have you left the money that I gave Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o'Wednesday last,

To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ;-
The saddler had it, Sir, I kept it not.

Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody?
Dro. E. I pray you, jest, Sir, as you sit at


I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed;
For she will score your fault upon my pate.
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your

And strike you home without a messenger.
Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are
out of season;

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this:
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?
Dro. E. To me, Sir? why you gave no gold

to me.

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your


the mart

And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from
Home to your house, the Phoenix, Sir, to din.
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer

In what safe place you have bestow'd my mo-
Or I will break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am indispos'd:
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of

Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon

my pate,

Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both.--
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress,
slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at
the Phoenix;
She that doth fast, till you come home to din
And prays, that you will hie you home to

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto
my face,

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.
Dro. E. What mean you, Sir? for God's sake,
hold your hands;
Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels.
[Exit DROMIO, E.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or


The villain is o'er-raughtt of all my money.
They say, this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul killing witches, that deform the body;
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin:

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If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave;
I greatly fear, my money is not safe.

SCENE I.-A public Place.

Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave re.

That in such haste I sent to seek his master!
Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.

Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret:
A man is master of his liberty:
Time is their master; and, when they see time,
They'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister.
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be


Luc. Because their business still lies out o'door.

Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it

Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled

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There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Men, more divine, and masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat❜ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep un-


Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.

Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear

some sway.

Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practice to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other where?

Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.

Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; They can be meek, that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burthen'd with like weight of pain, [plain : As much, or more, we should ourselves comSo thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, [me: With urging helpless patience would'st relieve But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try ;Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Adr. Say is your tardy master now at hand
Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with mq
and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know's
thou his mind?


Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine [it Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst | Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain;not feel his meaning? Would that alone alone he would detain, Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! too well feel his blows; and withal so doubt-I see the jewel, best enamelled, fully, that I could scarce understand them.* Adr. But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems, he hath great care to please

his wife.

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Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age the alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it:
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That's not my fault, he's master of my state:
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures:† My decayed fairt
A sunny look of his would soon repair:
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
Luc. Self-arming jealousy!-fie, beat it

Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.

I know his eye doth homage otherwhere;
Or else, what lets]] it but he would be here?

I. e. Scarce stand under then.
Alteration of features.
Stalking borse.

Fair, for fairness. Hinders,

[still, Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name, But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! [Exeunt..

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.

Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave [up Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out. By computation, and mine host's report, I could not speak with Dromio, since at first I sent him from the mart: See here he comes. Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.

How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd? As you love strokes, so jest with me again. You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold? Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,

That thus so madly thou didst answer me? Dro. S. What answer, Sir? when spake I

such a word?

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jest is earnest:

Upon what bargain do you give it me?

Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours." When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, [beams. But creep in crannies, when he hides his If you will jest with me, know my aspect,t And fashion your demeanour to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce.

Dro. S. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head: an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce‡ it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, pray, Sir, why am I beaten?

Ant. S. Dost thou not know?

Dro. S. Nothing, Sir; but that I am beaten. Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?

Dro. S. Ay, Sir, and wherefore; for, they say, every why hath a wherefore.

* I. e. Intrude on them when you please. + Study my countenance.

A sconce was a fortification,

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