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 Porcupine.

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

Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of

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. 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 that 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.

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?
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,

Ege.

nor I.

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, times 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 lamps 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 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.

life.

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.

6 strange defeatures-] Defeatures are certainly neither more nor less than features; as demerits are neither more nor less than merits. Time, says Ægeon, hath placed new and strange features in my face; i. e. given it quite a different appearance: no wonder therefore thou dost not know me. RITSON.

7 my feeble key of untun'd cares?] i. e. the weak and discordant tone of my voice, that is changed by grief. Douce.

wood.

this grained face-] i. e. furrowed, like the grain of

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 [All gather to see him. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive

wrong'd.

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 had'st 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!

Ege. 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:9

These two Antipholus's, these two so like,
And these two Dromio's, 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.

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 receiv'd from you,

• Why, here begins his morning story right:]" The morning story" is what Ægeon tells the duke in the first scene of this play.

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; nor, till this present hour,
My heavy burdens are 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, ÆGEON, 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:

1 After so long grief, such nativity!] She has just said, that to her, her sons were not born till now.

STEEVENS.