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-
brac'd,

70

80

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, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as seafaring 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 wished 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.

90

Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so;

now

190

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 furthest 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 there 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

11)

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 150
To seek thy life 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 to thy custody.

Gaol. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Mart.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, DROMIO of
Syracuse, and a Merchant.

For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Age. O! had the gods done so, I had not
Worthily term'd them merciless to us,
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.

Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,

leagues,

100

This very day, a Syracusian merchant

We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst ;

Is apprehended for arrival here;

So that in this unjust divorce of us
Fortune had left to both of us alike

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,

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;

110

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.

120

Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrow-
est for,

Do me the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them and thee till now.

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,

Bge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, And afterwards consort you till bed-time:
At eighteen years became inquisitive
My present business calls me from you now.

20

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 almanac of my true date.
What now? How chance thou art return'd so
soon?

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.
Strikes him.

Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God's sake,
hold your hands.

4) Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. Exit.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other
The villain is o'erraught 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:

Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd
too late.

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
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; 50
But we that know what 'tis 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. Ol-sixpence, that I had o' Wednes-
day 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?

61

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:

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

70

Dro. E. To me, sir? why, you gave no goldtome. Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,

And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from
the mart

Home to your house, the Phœnix, 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. 80
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.

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.

24)

Exit.

SCENE I. The House of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus.
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,
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 Le
more?

10

1

'I know,' quoth he, 'no house, no wife, no mis. My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,

Dro. E. Am I so round with you as you with me,
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
The, how impatience lowereth in your fee on when you

Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake! now your
jest is earnest:

Ant. S. Thank me, sir! for what? Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something, that you gave me for nothing.

Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinner-time?

Dro. S. No, sir: I think the meat wants that
I have.

Ant. S. In good time, sir; what's that?
Dro. S. Basting.

Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry.

I live distain'd, thou undishonoured.

Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know
you not.

In Ephesus I am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town as to your talk;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd,
Want wit in all one word to understand.

160

Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return And in this mist at all adventures go.

That he did buffet thee, and in his blows
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle-
woman?

What is the course and drift of your compact ?
Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very
words

Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.

Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our

170