By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamnum; till my factor's death, And the 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.
16 There had she not been long but she became A joyful mother of two goodly sons; And, which was strange, the one so like the
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 Syracusians and ourselves, T' admit no traffic to our adverse towns: Nay, more, if any, born at Ephesus Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs; Again, if any Syracusian 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, valu'd at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die. Æge. Yet this my comfort: when your words are done,
20 As could not be distinguish'd but by names. 52 That very hour, and in the self-same inn, A meaner woman was delivered
My woes end likewise with the evening sun. Duke. Well, Syracusian; say, in brief the
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss, That by misfortune 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. Æge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother; and importun'd me 76 That his attendant for his case was like,
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 seafaring 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, 84 Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought
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 wished 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 that went before.
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name - 128 Might bear him company in the quest of him; Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
80 I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, 133 And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus,
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 Ægeon, whom the fates have mark'd
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 And passed sentence may not be recall'd But to our honour's great disparagement, 148 Yet will I favour thee in what I can: Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day To seek thy life by beneficial help. Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die. Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Æge. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-The Mart.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, DROMIO Of Syracuse, and a Merchant.
Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidam- num,
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day, a Syracusian 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
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, 12 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.
And wander up and down to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own con- tent. [Exit.
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content,
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.
Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. O!-sixpence, that I had o' Wednes- day last
To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper; 56 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? 61 Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner.
And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner: My mistress and her sister stays for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours
36 That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd. 80 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate,
40 Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, But not a thousand marks between you both. 84 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?
Here comes the almanack of my true date. What now? How chance thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix;
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too late:
104 As much, or more we should ourselves complain: So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me:
But if thou live to see like right bereft.
SCENEI. The House of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus. This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.
Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.
Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd,
Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try. Here comes your man: now is your husband nigh.
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, 8 They'll go or come: if so, be patient, sister.
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be
There's nothing situate under heaven's eye 16 But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subjects and at their controls. Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, Indu'd with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females and their lords: 24 Then, let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriagebed.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.
Adr. But say, I prithee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. 56 Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain!
Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but, sure, he is stark mad.
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, 60 He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: ''Tis dinner time,' quoth I; 'my gold!' quoth he: 'Your meat doth burn,' quoth I; 'my gold!'
'Will you come home?' quoth I: 'my gold!' quoth he:
'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?'
'The pig,' quoth I, 'is burn'd;' 'my gold!' quoth he:
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? 12 Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I such a word?
Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half-an-hour since.
Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence,
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. [Exit. Luc. Fie, how impatience loureth in your face! Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 88 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 fair
And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein:
What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me.
Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth?
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-harming jealousy! fie! beat it hence.
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? Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain: Would that alone, alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! 108 I see, the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; and though gold bides still That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold; and no man that hath a name, 112 By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
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