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LIC LIBRARY

ASOR. LENOX

LUEN FOUNDATIONS

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 inn,
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 sons.
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 :

the

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harin:
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 inmediate death;
Which, though myself would gladly have em-
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 songht 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 Epidaurus this:
But ere they came,-O 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.

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 sor-
rowest 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,

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,
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,
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 him to thy custody.

Jail. will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ægeon wend,

But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-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.

[Ecit DRO. S.

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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 till bed-time; My present business calls me from you now. Ant. S. Farewell till theu: 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. E. 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. Come on, sir knave, bave done your oolishness,

And tell me, bow thou hast dispos'd thy charge. Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart

Home to your house, the Phœnix, Sir, to din

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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 ? för 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 I.—A public Place.

Enter ADRIANA, and LUCIANA.

[Erit.

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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 un-
wed.

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 ?

Luc. Till he come home again, I would for- If I last in this service, you must case me in

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But, if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.
Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try ;-
Here comes your man, now is your husband
nigh.

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.

Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and that my two ears can. witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?

Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine

ear :

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 pr'ythee, is be coming home? It seems, he hath great care to please his wife.

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's stark mad:

When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold:
'Tis dinner time, quoth 1; My gold, quoth
he:

Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold,
quoth he:

leather.

[Exit. Luc. Fie, how impatience lowereth in your

face.

Adr. His company must do his minions
grace,

Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age the alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it:
Are my discourses duli ? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bate ?
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 +
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.t
Luc. Self-arming jealousy !-fle, 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!
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 so no man, that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep_what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jea-
lousy!
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.

Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out. By computation, and mine host's report, I could not speak with Dromio, since at first I send him from the mart: See here he comes. Enter DROMIO of Syracuse. How now, Sir? is your merry humour alter'd? Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, vil-As you love strokes, so jest with me again. lain? You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold? My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,

Will you come home? quoth I; quoth he:

My gold,

The pig, quoth I, is burn'd, My gold, quoth Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner f

he:

My mistress, Sir, quoth I; Hang up thy mis-That thus so madly thou didst answer me ? tress:

I know not thy mistress; out on thy mis

tress!

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Dro. S. What answer, Sir, when spake I such a word?

Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour

since.

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What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me.

Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth?

that.

Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, and
[Beating him.
Dro. S. Hold, Sir, for God's sake: now your
jest is earnest :

Upon what bargain do you give it me?
Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you,

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