And will have no attorney but myself;
And therefore let me have him home with me.
Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir,
Till I have used the approv'd means I have,
With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal man again:"
It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order;
Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.
Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here;
And ill it doth beseem your holiness,
To separate the husband and the wife.
Abb. Be quiet, and depart, thou shalt not have him.
[Exit Abbess.
Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity.
Adr. Come, go; I will fall prostrate at his feet,
And never rise until my tears and prayers
Have won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the abbess.
Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five :
Anon, I am sure, the duke himself in person
Comes this to the melancholy vale;
The place of death and sorry execution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.
Ang. Upon what cause?

way

Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay

Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.

Ang. See, where they come; we will behold his

death.

Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he the abbey. pass Enter Duke attended; ÆGEON bare-headed; with the Headsman and other Officers.

Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly,
If any friend will pay the sum for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him.

Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess!
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady;
It cannot be, that she hath done thee wrong.

Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband,

Whom I made lord of me and all I had,
At your important letters,-this ill day
A most outrageous fit of madness took him;
That desperately he hurried through the street
(With him his bondman, all as mad as he,)
Doing displeasure to the citizens

By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him;
And with his mad attendant and himself,
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords,
Met us again, and madly bent on us,
Chas'd us away; till raising of more aid,
We came again to bind them: then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we pursued them:
And here the abbess shuts the gates on us,
And will not suffer us to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.
Duke. Long since, thy husband served me in my

wars;

And ever as it blaz'd they threw on him
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair :
My master preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool:
And, sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjuror.

Adr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here:

And that is false, thou dost report to us.

Ser. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true;" I have not breath'd almost, since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:

[Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress; fly, begone. Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing: Guard with halberds.

Adr. Ah me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible:

Even now we housed him in the abbey here;
And now he's there, past thought of human reason.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Ephesus,
Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant me
justice!

Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the wars, 10
and took
Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

Ege. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, I see my son Antipholus and Dromio.

Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there.

She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife,
That hath abused and dishonour'd me,
Even in the strength and height of injury!
Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors

upon me,

While she with harlots feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault: say, woman, didst thou so?

Adr. No, my good lord;-myself, he, and my sister,

To-day did dine together: So befall my soul,
As this is false he burdens me withal!

Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she tells to your highness simple truth!
Ang. O perjur'd woman! They are both forsworn.
In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. My liege, I am advised1a what I say: Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, Nor heady rash, provoked with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with het This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner; Could witness it, for he was with me then; Who parted with me to go fetch a cham, Promising to bring it to the Porcupine,

Choice of Change, 1598. Three things used by monks which provoke other men to laugh at their follies 1. They are shaven and notched on the head like fooles? Florio explains, zuccone, a shaven pate, a notted poll, a poll-pate, a gull, a ninnie.'

10 This act of friendship is frequently mentioned by

11 Harlot was a term anciently applied to a rogue or base person among men, as well as to wantons among women. See Todd's Johnson.

12 'I speak with consideration and circumspectly, not rashly and precipitately.'

Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him: in the street I met him;
And in his company, that gentleman.
There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down,
That I this day of him receiv'd the chain,

Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which,
He did arrest me with an officer.

I did obey; and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats: he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,

Το go in person with me to my house.
By the way we met

My wife, her sister, and a rabble more

Of vile confederates; along with them

They brought one Pinch; a hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller;
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Cries out I was possess'd: then altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a dark and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction

For these deep shames and great indignities.
Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him;
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.

Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck.

Mer. Besides I will be sworn, these ears of mine Heard you confess, you had the chain of him, After you first forswore it on the mart, And, thereupon I drew my sword on you; And then you fled into this abbey here,

From whence, I think, you are come by miracle.

Ant. E. I never came within these abbey walls, Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me : I never saw the chain, so help me heaven! And this is false, you burden me withal.

Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this! I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup. If here you hous'd 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 din'd with her there, at the Porcupine.

Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd 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;

1 think, you are all mated, or stark mad.

[Exit an Attendant. Ege. 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. Ege. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus? And is not your bondman Dromio?

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

Ege. 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?

Ege. Why look you strange on me? you know

me well.

Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. Ege. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last;

And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
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.
Ege.

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."

Ege. Not know my voice! O, time's extremity! Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue, In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd 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: All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus.

Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. Ege. 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 man much wrong'd. [All gather to see him. 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. . I, sir, am Dromio; command him away. Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay. Ant. S. Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghost? Dro. S. O, my old master! who hath bound nim here.

Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty: Speak, old geon, if thou be'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd Emilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: O, if thou be'st the same geon, speak, And speak unto the same Emilia!

ge. If I dream not, thou art Emilia. 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:

9 In the old copy this speech of Egeon, and the subsequent one of the abbess, follow the speech of the

mistake.

What then became of them, I cannot tell :
I, to this fortune that you see me in.

Duke. Why, here begins this morning story right;
These two Antipholuses, these two so alike,
Ard these two Dromioes, one in semblance,-
Be sides 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.

Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.

Dro. E. And I with him.

Ant. E. Brought to this town with that most fa-
mous 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 receiv'd 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. 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 suffer'd 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;-

1 The morning story' is what Egeon tells the Duke in the first scene of this play.

2 Semblance is here a trisyllable. It appears probable that a line has been omitted here, the import of which may have been:

'These circumstances all concur to prove
These are the parents,' &c.

If it began with the word these as well as the succeeding one, the error would easily happen.

3 Children is here a trisyllable, it is often spelled as

it was pronounced then, childeren.

4 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 burthen are delivered.

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,
After so long grief, such nativity!

Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast. [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, GEON, Courtezan, Merchant, ANGELO, and Attendants. Dro S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?

Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?

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. AVR. and Luc. Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house,

That kitchen'd 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?

Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder.

Dro. E. That's a question: how shall we try it: Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior: till then, lead thou first.

Dro. E. Nay; then thus:

We came into the world, like brother and brother; And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. [Exeunt.

ON a careful revision of the foregoing scenes, I do not hesitate to pronounce them the composition of two very unequal writers. Shakspeare had undoubtedly a share in them; but that the entire play was no work

of his, is an opinion which (as Benedict says) "fire can

not melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake." Thus as we are informed by Aulus Gellius, Lib. III. Cap. 3, some plays were absolutely ascribed to Plautus, which in truth had only been (retractatæ et expolite) retouched and polished by him.

In this comedy we find more intricacy of plot than dis tinction of character; and our attention is less forcibly engaged, because we can guess in great measure how the denouement will be brought about. Yet the subject appears to have been reluctantly dismissed, even in this last and unnecessary scene, where the same mistakes are continued, till the power of affording entertainment is entirely lost. STEEVENS.

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 which I have made in the text, and those made by Theobald and Malone.

5 i. e. the two Dromioes. Antipholus of Syracuse has already called one of them 'the almanack of my true date. See note on Act 1, Sc. 2.

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