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Luc. Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey.

Enter Duke attended; Ægeon bare-headed; with the Headsman and other Officers. 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. 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, anything 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 his 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.
[mand
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy com-
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence
for help.

Duke. Long since thy husband serv'd me in
my wars;

And I to thee engag'd a prince's word,
When thou didst make him master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go, some of you, knock at the abbey gate,
And bid the lady abbess come to me.
I will determine this before I stir.

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Adr. Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here,

And that is false thou dost report to us.

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 my husband: Witness That he is borne about invisible: [you, Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; And now he's there, past thought of human

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I

me dote,

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 [me.
That she this day hath shameless thrown on
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me
just.
[doors upon me,
Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the
While she with harlots feasted in my house,
Duke. A grievous fault.-Say, woman, didst
[my sister,

thou so?

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[her, That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with 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. [down, There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me

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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
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, [villain,

A threadbare 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
They left me and my man, both bound to-
gether;
[sunder,
Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in
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,

[out. That he dined not at home, but was lock'd Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? [in here, Ang. He had, my lord; and when he ran These people saw the chain about his neck. Sec. 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. [this!
Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is
I think you all have drunk 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
Porcupine.
[that ring.
Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd
Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had
of her.

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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.

Ege. Dromio, nor thou?

Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
Ege. 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.

Ege. 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 lamps some fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear:
All these old witnesses-I cannot err-
Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.

Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. Age. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy,

Thou know'st we parted: but perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. Ant. E. The duke, and all that knows me

in the city,

Can witness with me that it is not so: I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.

Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, [here? During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa. Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your Re-enter Abbess, with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse. Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see him.

grace.

Duke. Why, this is strange.-Go call the abbess hither. [Exit an Attendant.

Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me!

Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, [other; By Dromio; but I think he brought it not. Duke. One of these men is Genius to the Dro. E. No, none by me. [from you, And so of these: which is the natural man, Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? And Dromio, my man, did bring them me. Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio: command him 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. [here. Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father Duke. It shall not need; thy father hath his

away.

[stay.

Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio: pray let me Ant. S. Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghost? [him here?

Dro. S. O, my old master! who hath bound Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his And gain a husband by his liberty. [bonds, Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be'st the man That hadst a wife once called Emilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: O, if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak, And speak unto the same Emilia !

Ege. 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; 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. [right: Duke. Why, here begins his morning story 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, Which accidentally are met together;Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first? Ant. S. No, sir, not I; I came from Syracuse. Duke. Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which. [gracious lord,Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most Dro. E. And I with him. [famous warrior, Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. Adr. Which of you two did dine with me Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.

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for my good cheer.

Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the To go with us into the abbey here, [pains 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 suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons; nor, till this present hour, My heavy burdens are delivered.The duke, my husband, and my children both, And you the calendars of their nativity, Go to a gossip's feast, and go with me: After so long grief, such nativity! [feast. Duke. With all my heart; I'll gossip at this [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, Egeon, Courtezan, Merchant, Angelo, and Attendants. Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard? [thou embark'd? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast Dro. S. Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. [master, Dromio: Ant. S. He speaks to me. I am your Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon: Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him. [Exeunt Ant. S. and Ant. E., Adr. and Luc. Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's

house,

That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner : [to-day? She now shall be my sister, not my wife. Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother:

Adr. And are not you my husband! Ant. E. No; I say nay to that. [so; Ant. S. And so do I; yet did she call me And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother.-What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good; If this be not a dream I see and hear. [of me. Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had Ant. S. I think it be, sir; I deny it not. Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrest

ed me.

Ang. I think I did, sir; I deny it not.

I

see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. Will you walk in to see their gossiping? Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. Dro. E. That's a question: how shall we try it? [then lead thou first. Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior: till Dro. E. Nay, then, thus: [brother; We came into the world like brother and And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. [Exeunt.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon.
Don John, his bastard Brother.
Claudio, a young Lord of Florence,
Benedick, a young Gentleman of
Padua,

Leonato, Governor of Messina.
Antonio, his Brother.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

Balthazar, attendant on Don Pedro. Borachio,

Conrade, followers of Don John.

ACT I.

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Hero, daughter to Leonato.
Beatrice, niece to Leonato.

Margaret, Gentlewomen attending on Hero.

Ursula,

SCENE,-Messina.

SCENE I.-Grounds adjoining Leonato's

House.

Enter Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice, with a Messenger.

Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.

Mess. He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?

Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, called Claudio. Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion he hath, indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how.

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.

Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.

Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Mess. In great measure.

Messengers, Watch, Attendants, &c.

Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challenged Cupid at the flight; and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the birdbolt.-I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing.

Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.

Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it he is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach.

Mess. And a good soldier, too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ;-but what is he to a lord?

Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man ; stuffed with all honourable virtues.

Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man: but for the stuffing-Well, we are all mortal.

Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece; there is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and her they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them.

Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: there with one: so that if he have wit enough to are no faces truer than those that are so keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difwashed. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping

Beat. I pray you is signior Montanto returned from the wars or no?

Mess. I know none of that name, lady: there was none such in the army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua. [as ever he was. Mess. O, he is returned; and as pleasant

ference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature.-Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.

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Beat. No; an' he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his compan-an't were such a face as yours were. ion? Is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse,

Beat. O Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.

Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.
Beat. Do, good friend.

Izon. You will ne'er run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.
Mess. Don Pedro is approached.
Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Claudio, Bene-
dick, and Balthazar.

D. Pedro. Good signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your grace for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes its leave. D. Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your daughter.

[so. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?

Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then you were a child.

D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady; for you are like an honourable father.

Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedick: nobody marks you.

Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living?

Beat. Is it possible disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.

Bene. Then is courtesy a turn-coat.-But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.

Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, o' God's name: I have done. Beat. You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old.

D. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Leonato, -signior Claudio, and signior Benedick,-my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart.

Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.-Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty.

D. John. I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank you.

Leon. Please it your grace lead on? D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato, we will go together.

[Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato ?

Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her.
Claud. Is she not a modest, young lady?

Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment; or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?

Claud. No; I pray thee, speak in sober judgment.

Bene. Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her; that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.

Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray thee, tell me truly how thou likest her. Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?

But

Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting jack; to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song?

Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on.

Beat. A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I am of your humour for that: Í had rather I see no such matter: there's her cousin, an' hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds he loves me. her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you?

Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face.

Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though

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