A meer anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare 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, outfacing 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
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
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;

That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck.

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.

Duke. What an intricate impeach is this!
I think, you all have drank 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:-

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!

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

Ang. O perjur'd woman! they are both forsworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. My liege, I am advised' what I say; Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash, provok'd 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, 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.

There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down, That I this day of him receiv'd the chain,

Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which,

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.

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,

I am advised-] i. e. I am not going to speak precipitately or rashly, but on reflection and consideration.

A meer anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare 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, outfacing 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
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
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;

That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck.

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.

Duke. What an intricate impeach is this!
I think, you all have drank 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:-

C

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 Por

cupine.

Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd that

ring.

Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of
her.

Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here?
Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.
Duke. Why, this is strange:-Go call the abbess

hither;

I think, you are all mated, or stark mad.

[Exit an Attendant. Ege. 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.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.
Ege. 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:
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.
Ege. I am sure, you both of you remember me.
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?

Ege. Why look you strange on me? you know

me well.

Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. Ege. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last;

And careful hours, with Time's deformed' hand,

Duke. Why, here begins his morning story

right:"

These two Antipholus's, these two so like,
And these two Dromio's, 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.

Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.

Dro. E. And I with him.

Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous warrior

Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.

Adr.

And are not you my husband?

Ant. E. No, I say nay to that.

Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so;
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.

Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Ant. S. I think it be, sir; I deny it not.

Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. Ang. I think I did, sir; I deny it not. Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, By Dromio; but I think he brought it not. Dro. E. No, none by me.

Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you,

9 Why, here begins his morning story right:]" The morning story" is what Ægeon tells the duke in the first scene of this play.