The Works of William Shakspere

[self;

F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear him. He knew me as a wife: As this is true
But at this instant he is sick, my lord,
Let me in safety raise me from my knees;
Of a strange fever: Upon his mere request,
Or else for ever be confixed here,
(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint A marble monument!
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came I hither,
Ang.
I did but smile till now;
To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice;
Is true, and false; and what he with his oath, My patience here is touch'd: I do perceive,
And all probation, will make up full clear,
These poor informal women are no more
Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman; But instruments of some more mightier member
(To justify this worthy nobleman,
That sets them on: Let me have way, my lord,
So vulgarly and personally accus'd,)
To find this practice out.
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
Till she herself confess it.
Duke.

Good friar, let's hear it.
[Isabella is carried off, guarded; and Ma-
riana comes forward.

Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo?-
O heaven! the vanity of wretched fools!
Give us some seats.-Come, cousin Angelo;
In this I'll be impartial; be you judge
Of your own cause.-Is this the witness, friar?
First, let her show her face; and, after, speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face,
Until my husband bid me.
Duke.

Mari. No, my lord.
Mari.

Duke. A widow then?
Duke.

What, are you married?
Duke. Are you a maid?
No, my lord.
Mari. Neither, my lord.
Why you
Are nothing then :-Neither maid, widow, nor wife?
Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of
them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.
Duke. Silence that fellow: I would he had some
To prattle for himself.
[cause
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married;
And, I confess, besides, I am no maid: [not,
I have known my husband; yet my husband knows
That ever he knew me.
[better.
Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no
Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert
Lucio. Well, my lord.
[so too!

Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo.
Mari. Now I come to 't, my lord:
She, that accuses him of fornication,
In self-same manner doth accuse my husband;
And charges him, my lord, with such a time,
When I 'I depose I had him in mine arms,
With all the effect of love.
Ang.

Charges she more than me?

Duke.
Ay, with my heart;
And punish them unto your height of pleasure.--
Thou foolish friar; and thou pernicious woman,
Compact with her that 's gone! think'st thou, thy
oaths,
[saint.
Though they would swear down each particular
Were testimonies against his worth and credit,
That 's seal'd in approbation?-You, lord Escalus,
Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence 't is deriv'd:
There is another friar that set them on;
Let him be sent for.

[deed,

F. Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for he, in-
Hath set the women on to this complaint:
Your provost knows the place where he abides,
And he inay fetch him.

Duke. Go, do it instantly.-
[Exit Provost.
And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
Do with your injuries as seems you best,
In any chastisement: I for a while
Will leave you; but stir not you, till you have
Well determin'd upon these slanderers.
Escal. My lord, we 'll do it thoroughly.-[Exit
Duke.] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew
that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?
Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum; honest in
nothing, but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke
most villainous speeches of the duke.
Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he
come, and enforce them against him: we shall find
this friar a notable fellow.

Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word.

Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again; [to an Attendant.] I would speak with her: Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see. how I'll handle her.

Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Escal. Say you?

Lucio. Marry, sir, I think if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly she 'll be ashamed.

Re-enter Officers, with Isabella; the Duke, in the

Friar's habit, and Provost.
Escal. I will go darkly to work with her.
Lucio. That's the way; for women are light at
midnight.

Escal. Come on, mistress: [to Isabella] here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.

Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here with the provost.

Escal. In very good time :-speak not you to him, till we call upon you. Lucio. Muin. Escal. Come, sir: Did you set these women on to slander lord Angelo? they have confessed you did. Duke. 'T is false.

[devil

Escal. How! know you where you are?
Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the
Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne:-
Where is the duke? 't is he should hear me speak.
Escal. The duke 's in us; and we will hear you
Look you speak justly.
[speak:

Duke. Boldly, at least: But, O, poor souls,
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox ?
Good night to your redress. Is the duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too. The duke 's unjust
Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain's mouth,
Which here you come to accuse.

Lucio. This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of.
Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar!
Is 't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women,
To accuse this worthy man? but, in foul mouth,

And in the witness of his proper ear,
To call him villain? and then to glance from him
To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice?
Take him hence; to the rack with him:-We

touze you

'Isab.

Joint by joint,-but we will know his purpose:
What! unjust? Duke. Be not so hot; the duke
Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he
Dare rack his own; his subject am I not,
Nor here provincial: My business in this state
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,
Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble,
Till it o'errun the stew: laws, for all faults;

But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong statutes
Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.

[prison. Escal. Slander to the state! Away with him to Ang. What can you vouch against him, signior Is this the man that you did tell us of? [Lucio? Lucio. 'T is he, my lord. Come hither, good-man bald-pate: Do you know me?

Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of the

duke.

Lucio. O did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke?

Duke. Most notedly, sir.

Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be?

Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. Lucio. O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches?

Duke. I protest I love the duke, as I love myself. Ang. Hark! how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses.

Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talked withal:Away with him to prison:-Where is the provost? -Away with him to prison; lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more :-Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion. [The Provost lays hands on the Duke. Duke. Stay, sir; stay awhile.

Ang. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio. Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir; Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will 't not off?

[Pulls off the Friar's hood, and discovers the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er made a duke.

First, provost, let me bail these gentle three :-
Sneak not away, sir; [to Lucio] for the friar and you
Must have a word anon:-lay hold on him.
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; sit you
down.-
[To Escalus.
We 'Il borrow place of him-Sir, by your leave:
[To Angelo.

Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can do thee office? If thou hast,
Rely upon it till my tale be heard,

Advertising, and holy to your business,
Not changing heart with habit, I am still
Attorney'd at your service.
O give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown sovereignty.
Duke.
You are pardon'd, Isabel:
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart;
And you may marvel, why I obscur'd myself,
Labouring to save his life; and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power,
Than let him so be lost: O most kind maid,
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which I did think with slower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpose: But, peace be with him!
That life is better life, past fearing death,
Than that which lives to fear: make it your com-
So happy is your brother.
[fort,

Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.
Isab.
I do, my lord.
Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well defended honour, you must pardon
For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudg'd your brother
(Being criminal, in double violation
Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach
Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,)
The very mercy of the law cries out
Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
An Angelo for Claudio, death for death.
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;
Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure.
Then, Angelo, thy fault thus manifested,-
Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vant-
We do condemn thee to the very block [age:
Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste;
Away with him.
Mari.
O, my most gracious lord,
I hope you will not mock me with a husband!
Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a hus-
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, [band:
I thought your marriage fit; else imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choke your good to come: for his possessions,
Although by confiscation they are ours,
We do instate and widow you withal,
To buy you a better husband.
Mari.

O, my dear lord,

I crave no other, nor no better man.
Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive.
Mari. Gentle my liege,-
[Kneeling.
Duke.
You do but lose your labour;
Away with him to death.-Now, sir, [to Lucio] to you.
Mari. O, my good lord!-Sweet Isabel, take my
part;

Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
I'll lend you all my life to do you service.
Duke. Against all sense you do importune her:
Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror. Mari. Isabel,
Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me;
Hold up your hands, say nothing, I 'll speak all.

And hold no longer out. Ang. O my dread lord, They say, best men are moulded out of faults;

I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,

To think I can be undiscernible,

When I perceive your grace, like power divine,

Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince,
No longer session hold upon my shame,
But let my trial be mine own confession:
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.
Duke.

Come hither, Mariana :-
Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?
Ang. I was, my lord.
[stantly.
Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her, in-
Do you the office, friar; which consummate,
Return him here again :-Go with him, provost.
[Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.
Escal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dis-
Than at the strangeness of it.
[honour,
Duke.
Come hither, Isabel:
Your friar is now your prince: As I was then

And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: so may my husband.
O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee?
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.

Isab.
Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling.
Look, if it please you, on this man condeinn'd,
As if my brother liv'd: I partly think,
A due sincerity govern'd his deeds,
Till he did look on me; since it is so,
Let him not die: My brother had but justice
In that he did the thing for which he died:
For Angelo,

His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;
And must be buried but as an intent
That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no sub-
Intents but merely thoughts.
Ijects;
Mari.
Merely, my lord.
Duke. Your suit 's unprofitable; stand up, I say.-
I have bethought me of another fault :-

Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
At an unusual hour?

Prov.
It was commanded so.
Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed?
Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private message.
Duke. For which I do discharge you of your office:
Give up your keys.
Prov.

Pardon me, noble lord:
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice:
For testimony whereof, one in the prison,
That should by private order else have died,
I have reserv'd alive.

Duke. What 's he?
Prov.
His name is Barnardine.
Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.-
Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him.

[Exit Provost.
Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise
As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood,
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

By this, lord Angelo perceives he 's safe;
Methinks, I see a quick'ning in his eye-
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well;
Look that you love your wife; her worth worth
I find an apt remission in myself:
[yours.-
And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon :-
You, sirrah, [to Lucio] that knew me for a fool, a
One all of luxury, an ass, a mad man; [coward,
Wherein have I so deserv'd of you,

That you extol me thus?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick: If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped. Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after. Proclaim it, provost, round about the city; If any woman 's wrong'd by this lewd fellow (As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child,) let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.

Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore! Your highness said even now, I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.

Ang. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure:
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy;
'T is my deserving, and I do entreat it.
Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Juliet.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine?
Prov.
This, my lord.
Duke. There was a friar told me of this man:-
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul,
That apprehends no further than this world,
And squar'st thy life according. Thou 'rt con- Joy to you, Mariana !-love her, Angelo;

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits :-Take him to prison:
And see our pleasure herein executed.
Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to
death, whipping, and hanging.

'demn'd';

But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all;
And pray thee, take this mercy to provide
For better times to come:-Friar, advise him; [that?
I leave him to your hand.-What muffled fellow's
Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav'd,
That should have died when Claudio lost his head;
As like almost to Claudio, as himself.

[Unmuffles Claudio. Duke. If he be like your brother, [to ISABELLA] for his sake

Is he pardon'd: And, for your lovely sake,
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine;
He is my brother too: But fitter time for that.

Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it.-
She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.

I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue.
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:
There's more behind that is more gratulate.
Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy;
We shall employ thee in a worthier place:-
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's;
The offence pardons itself.-Dear Isabel,
I have a motion much imports your good;
Whereto if you 'll a willing ear incline,
What 's mine is yours and what is yours is mine:
So, bring us to our palace; where we 'll show
What's yet behind, that 's meet you all should know.
[Exeunt.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Hall in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke, Ægeon, Gaoler, Officers, and other
Attendants.

Age. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial, to infringe our laws;
The enmity and discord, which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,-
Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives,
Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods,-
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars

EMILIA, wife to Egeon, an ab-
bess at Ephesus.

ADRIANA, wife to Antipholus of
LUCIANA, her sister. [Ephesus.
LUCE, her servant.
A Courtezan.

Gaoler, Officers, and other
Attendants.
SCENE.-EPHESUS.

'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more, If any, born at Ephesus,
Be seen at any Syracusan marts and fairs,
Again, If any Syracusan 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, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die.

Ege. Yet this my comfort when your words are
My woes end likewise with the evening sun. [done,

Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause
Why thou departedst from thy native home;
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Ege. A heavier task could not have been impos'd,
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable:
Yet, that the world may witness that my end
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 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.
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 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:

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
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 immediate death;

Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'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 sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:
My wife, most 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 me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before.
Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so;
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Age. 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,
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.
At length, another ship had seized on us;

And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave healthful 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 sorrowest for,
Do me the favour to dilate at full

What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Age. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother; and importun'd me,
That his attendant, (so 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 farthest Greece,
Roaming clean through 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 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,
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 no, then thou art doom'd to die :-
Gaoler, take him into thy custody.
Gaol. I will, my lord.

Age. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ageon 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 Epidamnum,
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.

[Exit.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word,
And go indeed, having so good a inean.
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 afterward consort you till 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 ron-
[tent
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
F 2

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 alınanack of my true date.-
What now? How chance, thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit; [late:
The clock hath 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 't is to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

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
To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper; [last,
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:
1 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; have done your fool-
ishness,

And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you fro' 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,
In what safe place you have bestow'd my money;
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd:
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?
Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate,
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both.
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?
[Phoenix
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the
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
your hands;

Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels.

[Exit Dro. 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.

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,
They 'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister.

Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more?
Luc. Because their business still lies out o' door.
Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so.
Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe.
There's nothing situate under heaven's eye
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 watery 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 unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Adr. But were you wedded you would bear some
Luc. Ere I learn love, I 'll practise to obey. [sway.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she
pause;

They can be meek that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain :
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience would relieve me:
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 could'st 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. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain? [stark mad: Dro. E. I mean not cuckold mad; but, sure, he 's When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: T is dinner-time,' quoth I; 'My gold, quoth he; 'Your meat doth burn,' quoth I; My gold,' quoth he; [he: Will you come home?' quoth I; 'My gold,' quoth 'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?' The pig,' quoth I, 'is burn'd;' 'My gold,' quoth he: My mistress, sir,' quoth I; 'Hang up thy mistress; I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!' Luc. Quoth who?

Dro. E. Quoth my master:

I know,' quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress;
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.

[Exit. Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God's sake send some other messenger.
Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other
Between you I shall have a holy head. [beating:
Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy master
home.

Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd,
That in such haste I sent to seek his master!

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