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Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this !
I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup.
If here you housed 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 Por

cupine. Cour. He did; and from my finger snatched 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. Æge. 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.

Æge. Is not your name, sir, called Antipholus ? And is not that your bondman Dromio ?

Dro. E. Within this hour, I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnawed in two my cords; Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.

Æge. 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 ? Æge. Why look you strange on me? You know

me well. Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. Æge. Oh! grief hath changed me, since you saw

me last; And careful hours, with Time's deformed” hand,

2

1 Confounded. See note on Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 1. 2 Deformed for deforming.

1

Have written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know

my

voice ?
Ant. E. Neither.
Æge.

Dromio, nor thou ?
Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
Æge.

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.

Æge. Not know my voice! O, time's extremity! Hast thou so cracked and splitted my poor tongue, In seven, short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untuned 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 lamp some fading glimmer left, My dull, deaf ears a little use to hear ; Al these old witnesses (I cannot err) Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. Ant. E. I never saw my

father in

my life. Æge. 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 know 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, During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa. I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. Enter the Abbess, with Antipholus Syracusan, and

DROMIO Syracusan. Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a much wronged.

[All gather to see him.

man

1 Dromio delights in a quibble, and the word bound has before been the subject of his mirth.

2 Furrowed, lined.

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

Duke. One of these men is genius to the other ;
And so of these. Which is the natural man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?

Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio; command him away.
Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay.
Ant. S. Ægeon, art thou not, or else his ghost ?
Dro. S. O, my old master! who hath bound him

here?
Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,
And gain a husband by his liberty.
Speak, old Ægeon, if thou be’st the man
That hadst a wife once called Æmilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons.
O, if thou be'st the same Ægeon, speak,
And speak unto the same Æmilia!

Æge. 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.

Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right.*
These two Antipholuses, these two so alike,
And these two Dromioes, 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. ! In the old copy, this speech of Ægeon, and the subsequent one of the abbess, follow the speech of the duke. It is evident that they were transposed by mistake.

2 « The morning story” is what Ægeon tells the duke in the first scene of this play.

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 received from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me. 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. Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here.

I

. Duke. It shall not need; thy father hath his life. , Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks for my

good cheer. Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here, 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 suffered wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail Of

you, my sons, and till this present hour;

My heavy burden here 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;

: e
After so long grief, such nativity!
Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast.

[Exeunt Duke, Abbess, Ægeon, Courtesan,

Merchant, Angelo, and Attendants. Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from ship

board ? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou em

barked ?
Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the

Centaur.
Ant. S. He speaks to me; I am your master, Dromio; ;
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 kitchened me for you to-day at dinner;
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.
Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not my

brother:
I see by you, I am a sweet-faced youth.
Will
you

walk in to see their gossiping ?

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1 The old copy reads, erroneously, thus :

Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons; and till this present hour

My heavy burden are delivered.”
Theobald corrected it in the following manner :-

Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail

Of you, my sons; nor till this present hour

My heavy burdens are delivered.” Malone, after much argument, gives it thus :

“Of you, my sons; until this present hour

My heavy burden not delivered.” Thirty-three years are an evident error for twenty-five; this was corrected by Theobald. The reader will choose between the simple emendation in the text, and those made by Theobald and Malone.

2 i. e. the two Dromioes. Antipholus of Syracuse has already called one of them “ the almanac of my true date." See note on Act i. Sc. 2.

3 Heath thought that we should read, “ and joy with me.” Warburton proposed gaud, but the old reading is probably right.

VOL. III. 22

e.

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