And this it was,-for other means was none.- But ere they came,-O, let me say no more!-- Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off eni For we may pity, though not pardon thee. Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily term'd them merciless to us! For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; Had not their bark been very slow of sail, And therefore homeward did they bend their course. ~ To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest 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 care, After his brother, and impórtun'd me Duke. Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have mark'd Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, Gaol. I will, my lord. Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. SCENE II.-A public Place. [Exeunt Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and a Merchant. Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day a Syracusan merchant Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit DROMIO 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 inn 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 until 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 content. [Exit Merchant. 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, failing 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 almanac of my true date. What now? How chance thou art return'd so soon? 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: The meat is cold because you come not home; Ant. S. Stop-in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray; Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. 0,-sixpence that I had o' Wednesday last Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: 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 seaReserve 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! [son; Ant. S. Come on, sir knave; have done your foolishness 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 stay for you. Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate, 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 Phonix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. 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 yon Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [hands [Exit DROHIO 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. [Exil ACT II. SCENE I.-A Public Place. Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. Adr. Neither my husband nor the slave return'd, Luc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, A man is master of his liberty; Time is their master; and, when they see time, Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more? |