Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
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 old,
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;
And, which was strange, the one so like

other,

As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inu,
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 sous.
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;

the

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
guests;

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

course.

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 sorrowest for,

Do nie the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest
care,

At eighteen years became inquisitive

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 clean + though 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
mark'd

To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,

brac'd,

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 fear,
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 Epidaurns this:
But ere they came,-0 let ne 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. Oh! had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us!
For, ere the ships could meet by twice
leagues,

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.

Natural affection.

Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee,
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
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,
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die :-
Jailer, take bim to thy custody.

Jail. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Egeon wend,

But to procrastinate bis lifeless end. [Exeunt.

SCENE 11.-A public Place.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and a MERCHANT.

Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epi. damnum,

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,
And then return, and sleep within mine inn;
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.

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

And go indeed, having so good a mean.

(Exit DRO. S.

Ant. S. A trusty villain, Sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then, go to my iun, and dine with me? Mer. I am invited, Sir, to certain merchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit; I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, + And afterwards consort you till bed-time; My present business calls me from you now.

Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,

And wander up and down, to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own con[Exit MERCHANT. Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content,

tent.

Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the ocean seeks another drop;
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 soon?

Dro. F. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too late :

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit:
The clock bath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
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

stomach;

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. Oh!-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
dinner :

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
clock,

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. What, wilt thou flout me thus uuto 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
other,

The villain is o'er-raught 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 :
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.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-A public Place.

Enter ADRIANA, and LUCIANA.

[Exit.

Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd,

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

Luc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,

And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner,

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 our's be

woe.

There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
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 unwed.

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 practise to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other

where ?

To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood?
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more con-
tempt.

Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine;
Whose weakness, married to my stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.

Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme:

What, was I married to her in my dream?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,

I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy.

Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.

Dro. S. Oh! for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.

This is the fairy land ;-O spite of spites !We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites ; If we obey them not, this will ensue,

They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.

Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st not ?

Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot !

Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I? Ant. S. I think thou art, in mind, and so

am I.

Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.

Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form.

Dro. S. No, I am an ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an

ass.

Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for grass.

"Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be, But I should know her as well as she knows me.

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep, Whilst man and master, laugh my woes to

scorn.

Come, Sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate :—
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day,
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks :
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter.-
Come, sister :-Dromio, play the porter well.
Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking? mad, or well-advis'd?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd!
I'll say as they say, and perséver so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.

Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate.

Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [Exeunt.

But here's a villain, that would face me down He met me on the mart; and that I beat him. And charg'd him with a thousand marks gold;

n

And that I did deny my wife and house :Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?

Dro. E. Say what you will, Sir, but I know what I know:

That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show :

If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink,

Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass.
Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear.

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.
I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that
pass,

You would keep from my heels, and beware of

Ant. E. O signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,

A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.

Bal. Good meat, Sir, is common; that every churl affords.

Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words.

Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast.

Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest;

But though my cates be mean, take them in good part;

Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.

But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us in.

Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely,

Gillian, Jen'!

Dro. S. [Within.] Mome, + malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch !‡ Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch:

Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store,

When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door.

Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My

master stays in the street.

Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on's feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door.

Dro. S. Right, Sir, I'll tell you when, and you'll tell me wherefóre.

Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner; I have not din'd to-day.

Dro. S. Nor to day here you must not; come