The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

An honourable husband :-Conie, Camillo, And take her by the hand: whose worth, and Is richly noted; and here justified [honesty, By us, a pair of kings.-Let's from this place. What?-Look upon my brother:-both your pardons,

That e'er I put between your holy looks My ill suspicion.-This your son-in-law, And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) [lina, Is troth-plight to your daughter.-Good PauLead us from hence; where we may leisurely Each one demand, and answer to his part Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first We were dissever'd; Hastily lead away. [Exeunt.

* You who by this discovery have gained what you desired.. + Participate.

This play. as Dr. Warburton justly observes, is, with all its absurdities, very entertaining. The character of Autolycus is naturally conceived, and ɛtrongly represented.—JOHNSON.

Eg. 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 [duke
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your
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
'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 ransome 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 done,

My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the

cause

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 lived in joy; our wealth increased
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:

[old

From whom my absence was not six months
Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear,)
Had made provision for her following me,
1 And soon, and safe, arrived where I was.
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons; [other,
And, which was strange, the one so like the
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 em-
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, [braced,
+ Markets.
Natural affection.

Why thou departedst from thy native home;
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Ege. A heavier task could not have been
imposed,

Name of a coin.

Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forced 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, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fastened 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 disposed, 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,
Dispersed 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 caine,-O, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before. [off so;
Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.

Ege. 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 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-
Do me the favour to dilate at full [rowest for,
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest
At eighteen years became inquisitive [care,
After his brother; and impórtuned 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 laboured of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
• Deprived. + Clear, completely.

Roaming clean + through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
Hopeless to find, yet loth 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
To bear the extremity of dire mishap! [mark'd
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 :-
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Gaol. I 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 Syra
cuse and a Merchant.

Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epidam

num,

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. [host,

Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaurs, where we
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.
[your word,
Dro. S. Many a man would take you at
And go indeed, having so good a mean.

[Exit DRO. S.

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 then: I will go lose
myself,

And wander up and down, to view the city.
The sign of their hotel. i. e. Servant.

Go.
Exchange, market-place

Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit Merchant. Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own

content,

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 returned so
soon?
[too late

Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock has 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. (I pray; Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. 0,-six-pence, 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.

SCENE I. A public place.

ACT

Enter ADRIANA, and LUCIANA. Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd,

That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.

Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him, [dinner, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to 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?

• Head.

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done And tell me, how thou hast disposed thy charge. Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart [ner;

Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to din-
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a christian, answer
[money;

ine,
In what safe place you have bestow'd my
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am undisposed:
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?
Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon

my pate, [ders, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulBut 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, [at the Phoenix.

slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress She that doth fast,till you come home to dinner, And prays, that you will hie you home to din[my face,

ner.

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto 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 DROM10, 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. [Exit.

Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye, But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, and sky: The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subject, and at their controls: Men, more divine, the 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, + Over-reached.

Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep
unwed.
[bed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage
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?
[forbear.
Luc. Till he come home again, I would
Adr. Patience, unmoved, 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,
[plain :
As much, or more, we should ourselves com-
So thou, that hast pe unkind mate to grieve
thee,
[lieve me :
With urging helpless patience wouldst re-
But, if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begged patience in thee will be left.
Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to
try;
[nigh.
Here comes your man, now is your husband
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 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 !
Dro. E. Imean not cuckold-mad; but, sure,
he's stark mad:

When I desired him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold:
'Tis dinner-time, quoth I; My gold, quoth he,
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold,
quoth he:
[quoth he

Will you come home? quoth I; My gold,
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee,
villain?
[quoth he:
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; My gold,
My mistress, sir, quoth I; Hang up thy
mistress:
[tress

I know not thy mistress; out on thy mis-
Luc. Quoth who?

Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you
That like a football you do spurn me thus!
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me
hither:

If I last in this service, you must case me in
leather.
[Exit.

Luc. Fie, how impatience low'reth in your

face.

[grace,
Adr. His company must do his minions
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 dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That's not my fault, he's master of my state:
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruined? then is he the ground
Of
my defeaturest My decayed fairt
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
stales.
[hence.
Luc. Self-arming jealousy!-fie, beat it
[dispense.

Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere;
Or else, what lets, it but he would be here?
Sister, you know, he promised 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
jealousy!
[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 sent him from the mart: See, here he comes.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
How now, sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
i. e., Scarce stand under them. + Alteration of features. Fair, for fairness.
Stalking horse. Hinders,

Dro. E. Quoth my master: [mistress;
I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders;

« Previous Continue »

Books