Actus Quintus. Scœna Prima.
Enter the Merchant and the
I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you,
But I protest he had the Chaine of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth denie it.
How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie?
Of very reuerent reputation sir,
Of credit infinite, highly belou'd,
Second to none that liues heere in the Citie:
His word might beare my wealth at any time.
Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.
Enter Antipholus and Dromio
'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke,
Which he forswore most monstrously to haue.
Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him:
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble,
And not without some scandall to your selfe,
With circumstance and oaths, so to denie
This Chaine, which now you weare so openly.
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You haue done wrong to this my honest friend,
Who but for staying on our Controuersie,
Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day:
This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it?
I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it.
Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too.
Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it?
These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee:
Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou
To walke where any honest men resort.
Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus,
Ile proue mine honor, and mine honestie
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st
I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.
They draw. Enter Adriana,
Luciana, Courtezan, & others.
Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad,
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my
Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house,
This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.
Exeunt. to the
The Comedie of Errors.
Enter Ladie Abbesse.
Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?
To fetch my poore distracted husband hence,
Let vs come in, that we may binde him fast,
And beare him home for his recouerie.
I knew he was not in his perfect wits.
I am sorry now that I did draw on him.
How long hath this possession held the man.
This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad,
And much different from the man he was:
But till this afternoone his passion
Ne're brake into extremity of rage.
Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea,
Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue,
A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men,
Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too?
To none of these, except it be the last,
Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home.
You should for that haue reprehended him.
Why so I did.
I but not rough enough.
As roughly as my modestie would let me.
Haply in priuate.
And in assemblies too.
I, but not enough.
It was the copie of our Conference.
In bed he slept not for my vrging it,
At boord he fed not for my vrging it:
Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame:
In company I often glanced it:
Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad.
And thereof came it, that the man was mad.
The venome clamors of a iealous woman,
Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.
It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy
Vnquiet meales make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred,
And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse?
Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles.
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moodie and dull melancholly,
Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire,
And at her heeles a huge infectious troope
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and lifepreseruing rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast:
The consequence is then, thy iealous fits
Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits.
She neuer reprehended him but mildely,
When he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly,
Why beare you these rebukes, and answer not?
She did betray me to my owne reproofe,
Good people enter, and lay hold on him.
No, not a creature enters in my house.
Then let your seruants bring my husband forth
Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary,
And it shall priuiledge him from your hands,
Till I haue brought him to his wits againe,
Or loose my labour in assaying it.
I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sicknesse, for it is my Office,
And will haue no atturney but my selfe,
And therefore let me haue him home with me.
Be patient, for I will not let him stirre,
Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue,
With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers
To make of him a formall man againe:
It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,
A charitable dutie of my order,
Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me.
I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere:
And ill it doth beseeme your holinesse
To separate the husband and the wife.
Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him.
Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity.
Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete,
And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers
Haue won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse.
By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue:
Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person
Comes this way to the melancholly vale;
The place of depth, and sorrie execution,
Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere.
Vpon what cause?
To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant,
Who put vnluckily into this Bay
Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,
Beheaded publikely for his offence.
See where they come, we wil behold his death
Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey.
Enter the Duke of Ephesus,
and the Merchant of Siracuse bare head, with the Headsman,
& other Officers.
Yet once againe proclaime it publikely,
If any friend will pay the summe for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him.
Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse.
She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady,
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.
May it please your Grace, Antipholus my
Who I made Lord of me, and all I had,
At your important Letters this ill day,
A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him:
That desp'rately he hurried through the streete,
With him his bondman, all as mad as he,
Doing displeasure to the Citizens,
By rushing in their houses: bearing thence
Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went,
That heere and there his furie 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 himselfe,
Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords
Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs
Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide
We came againe to binde them: then they fled
Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them,
And heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs,
And will not suffer vs to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence.
The Comedie of Errors.
Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe.
Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars
And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word.
When thou didst make him Master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me:
I will determine this before I stirre.
Enter a Messenger.
Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe,
My Master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the Maids a‑row, and bound the Doctor,
Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of
And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;
My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole:
And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe)
Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer.
Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here,
And that is false thou dost report to vs.
Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true,
I haue not breath'd almost since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,
To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:
Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone.
Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with
Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you,
That he is borne about inuisible,
Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.
And now he's there, past thought of humane
Enter Antipholus, and
E. Dromio of Ephesus.
Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iu
Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke
Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice.
Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me dote, I see my
sonne Antipholus and Dromio.
Iustice (sweet Prince) against theyd Woman
She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife;
That hath abused and dishonored me,
Euen in the strength and height of iniurie:
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me.
Discouer how, and thou shalt f3 me iust.
This day (great Duke) she s5 doores vpon me,
While she with Harlots feasted in my house.
A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so?
No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister,
To day did dine together: so befall my soule,
As this is false he burthens me withall.
Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night,
But she tels to your Highnesse simple truth.
O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne,
In this the Madman iustly chargeth them.
My Liege, I am aduised what I say,
Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine,
Nor headie‑rash prouoak'd with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witnesse it: for he was with me then,
Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthasar and I did dine
Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
I went to seeke him. In the street I met him,
And in his companie that Gentleman.
There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe,
That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,
Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,
He did arrest me with an Officer.
I did obey, and sent my Pesant home
For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd.
Then fairely I bespoke the Officer
To go in person with me to my house.
By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a
Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry
A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,
A thred‑bare Iugler, and a Fortune‑teller,
A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue,
Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no‑face (as 'twere) out‑facing
Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether
They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a darke 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 freedome; and immediately
Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech
To giue me ample satisfaction
For these deepe shames, and great indignities.
My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.
But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?
He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,
These people saw the Chaine about his necke.
Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine,
Heard you confesse you had the Chaine 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 heere,
From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle.
I neuer came within these Abbey wals,
Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:
And this is false you burthen me withall.
Why what an intricate impeach is this?
I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes
If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:
You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you?
Sir he din'de with her there, at the
He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring.
Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her.
Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?
As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace.
Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hi‑
I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.
The Comedie of Errors.
Exit one to the Abbesse.
Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
Haply I see a friend will saue my life,
And pay the sum that may deliuer me.
Speake freely Siracusian what thou
Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman Dromio?
Within this houre I was his bondman sir,
But he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound.
I am sure you both of you remember me.
Our selues we do remember sir by you:
For lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinches patient, are you
Why looke you strange on me? you know me well.
I neuer saw you in my life till now.
Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me
And carefull houres with times deformed hand,
Haue written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
Dromio, nor thou?
No trust me sir, nor I.
I am sure thou dost?
I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatso‑
euer a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him.
Not know my voice, oh times extremity
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore
In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne
Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap‑consuming Winters drizled snow,
And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp:
Yet hath my night of life some memorie:
My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left;
My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare:
All these old witnesses, I cannot erre.
Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus.
I neuer saw my Father in my life.
But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa
Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie.
The Duke, and all that know me in the City,
Can witnesse with me that it is not so.
I ne're saw Siracusa in my
I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares
Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus,
During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa:
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Enter the Abbesse with
Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.
Most mightie Duke, behold a man much
All gather to see
I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me.
One of these men is genius to the
And so of these, which is the naturall man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
I Sir am Dromio, command him away.
I Sir am Dromio, pray let me
Egeon art thou not? or else his
Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him heere?
Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds,
And gaine a husband by his libertie:
Speake olde Egeon, if thou
bee'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd &Æmilia,
That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?
Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:
And speake vnto the same &Æmilia.
Why heere begins his Morning storie right:
These two Antipholus, these two so
And these two Dromio's, one in
Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea,
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together.
If I dreame not, thou art &Æmilia,
If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne
That floated with thee on the fatall rafte.
By men of Epidamium, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken
But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth
By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from
And me they left with those of Epidamium.
What then became of them, I cannot tell:
I, to this fortune that you see mee in.
Antipholus thou cam'st from
No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse.
Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which.
I came from Corinth my most gracious
And I with him.
Brought to this Town by that most famous
Duke Menaphon your most renowned
Which of you two did dine with me to day?
I, gentle Mistris.
And are not you my husband?
No, I say nay to that.
And so do I, yet did she call me so:
And this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere
Did call me brother. What I told you then,
I hope I shall haue leisure to make good,
If this be not a dreame I see and heare.
That is the Chaine sir, which you had of mee.
I thinke it be sir, I denie it not.
And you sir for this Chaine arrested me.
I thinke I did sir, I deny it not.
I sent you monie sir to be your baile
By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it
No, none by me.
This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me:
I see we still did meete each others man,
And I was tane for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these errors are arose.
These Duckets pawne I for my father heere.
It shall not neede, thy father hath his life.
Sir I must haue that Diamond from you.
There take it, and much thanks for my good cheere.
Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines
To go with vs into the Abbey heere,
And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes,
And all that are assembled in this place:
That by this simpathized one daies error
Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,
The Comedie of Errors.
And we shall make full satisfaction.
Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile
Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre
My heauie burthen are deliuered:
The Duke my husband, and my children both,
And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,
Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee,
After so long greefe such Natiuitie.
With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.
Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two
Dromio's and two Brothers.
Mast. shall I fetch your stuffe from
Dromio, what stuffe of mine
hast thou imbarkt.
Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur.
He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio.
Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon,
Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.
There is a fat friend at your masters house,
That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife,
Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother:
I see by you, I am a sweet‑fac'd youth,
Will you walke in to see their gossipping?
Not I sir, you are my elder.
That's a question, how shall we trie it.
Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then, lead
Nay then thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother:
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.