Gambar halaman
PDF
ePub

That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
A hypocrite, a virgin-violator;
Is it not strange, and strange?
Duke. Nay, ten times strange.

Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo,
Than this is all as true as it is strange:
Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
To the end of reckoning.

Duke. Away with her:-Poor soul,
She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.

Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st
That there is another comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me not, with that opinion

That I am touch'd with madness: make not impossible
That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible,
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,
As Angelo; even so may Angelo,

In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain: believe it, royal prince,
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.

Duke. By mine honesty,

If she be mad, (as I believe no other,)

Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,
Such a dependency of thing on thing,
As e'er I heard in madness.

Isab. O gracious duke,

Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality: but let your reason serve

To make the truth appear where it seems hid,
And hide the false seems true.

Duke. Many that are not mad,

Have, sure, more lack of reason.-What would you say?
Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication

To lose his head: condemn'd by Angelo:

I, in probation of a sisterhood,

Was sent to by my brother: one Lucio

As then the messenger;

Lucio. That's I, an 't like your grace:

I came to her from Claudio, and desired her

To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo,
For her poor brother's pardon.

Isab. That's he, indeed.

Duke. You were not bid to speak.

Lucio. No, my good lord;

Nor wish'd to hold my peace.

Duke. I wish you now, then;

Pray you, take note of it: and when you have

A business for yourself, pray heaven you then

Be perfect.

Lucio. I warrant your honour.

Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to it. Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. Lucio. Right.

Duke. It may be right; but you are in the wrong To speak before your time.-Proceed.

Isab. I went

To this pernicious caitiff deputy.

Duke. That's somewhat inadly spoken.

Isab. Pardon it;

The phrase is to the matter.

Duke. Mended again: the matter;-Proceed. Isab. In brief,-to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me, and how I replied,

(For this was of much length,)-the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter:

He would not, but by gift of my chaste body

To his concupiscible intemperate lust,

Release my brother; and, after much debatement,

My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,

And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes,
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.

Duke. This is most likely!

Isab. O, that it were as like as it is true!
Duke. By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not
what thou speak'st;

Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour,
In hateful practice: first, his integrity
Stands without blemish:-next, it imports no reason,
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,

And not have cut him off: some one hath set you on;
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam'st here to complain.

Isab. And is this all?

Then, oh, you blessed ministers above,

Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up

In countenance !-Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!

Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone:-An officer !

To prison with her:-Shall we thus permit

A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall

On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?

Isab. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick. Duke. A ghostly father, belike:-Who knows that Lodowick?

Lucio. My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar; I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly.

Duke. Words against me? This, a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here

Against our substitute!-Let this friar be found.

Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow.

F. Peter. Bless'd be your royal grace!

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abused; first, hath this woman
Most wrongfully accused your substitute,
Who is as free from touch or soil with hier,
As she from one ungot.

Duke. We did believe no less.

Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of

F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,

As he's reported by this gentleman;

And, on my trust, a man that never yet

Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.

Lucio. My lord, most villanously; believe it.

F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear himself But at this instant he is sick, my lord,

Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request,
(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came I hither,

To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know

Is true, and false; and what he with his oath,

And all probation, will make up full clear,

Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman,

(To justify this worthy nobleman,

So vulgarly and personally accused.)

Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,

Till she herself confess it.

Duke. Good friar, let's hear it.

[ISABELLA is carried off, guarded; and MARIANA
comes forward.

Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo?-
O heaven! the vanity of wretched fools!--
Give us some seats.-Come, cousin Angelo;
In this I'll be impartial; be you judge

Of your own cause.-Is this the witness, friar?
First, let her shew her face; and, after, speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not shew my face,
Until my husband bid me.

Duke. What, are you married?
Mari. No, my lord.

Duke. Are you a maid?

Mari. No, my lord.

Duke. A widow, then?
Mari. Neither, my lord.
Duke. Why, you

Are nothing then-Neither maid, widow, nor wife? Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.

Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had some To prattle for himself.

Lucio. Well, my lord.

[cause

Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married; And I confess, besides, I am no maid:

I have known my husband; yet my husband knows not That ever he knew me.

Lucio. He was drunk, then, my lord; it can be no better.

Duke. For the benefit of silence, 'would thou wert so

too.

Lucio. Well, my lord.

Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo.
Mari. Now I come to 't, my lord:

She that accuses him of fornication,

In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; And charges him, my lord, with such a time, When I'll depose I had him in mine arms,

With all the effect of love.

Ang. Charges she more than me?
Mari. Not that I know,

[blocks in formation]

And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
Do with your injuries as seems you best,
In any chastisement: I for a while

Will leave you; but stir not you, till you have well
Determined upon these slanderers.

Esoul. Mylord, we'll do it thoroughly. [Exit Duke.]Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?

Lucio. "Cucullus non facit monachum:" honest in nothing, but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke.

Ereal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow.

Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word.

Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again.-[To an Attendant.] I would speak with her. Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I'll handle her.

Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Escal. Say you?

Lucio. Marry, Sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess; perchance, publicly she'll be ashamed.

Re-enter Officers, with ISABELLA; the Duke, in the Friar's habit, and Provost.

Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That's the way; for women are light at midnight.

[blocks in formation]

Escal. Come, Sir: did you set these women on to slander lord Angelo? they have confess'd you did. Duke. 'Tis false.

Escal. How! know you where you are?

Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the devil Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne:Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me speak. Escal. The duke's in us; and we will hear you speak: Look you speak justly.

Duke. Boldly, at least:-But, O, poor souls,
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox?
Good night to your redress. Is the duke gone?
Then is your cause gone to. The duke's unjust,

Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain's mouth,
Which here you come to accuse.

Lucio. This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of.
Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar!
Is 't not enough, thou hast suborn'd these women
To accuse this worthy man; but, in foul mouth,
And in the witness of his proper ear,

To call him villain?

And then to glance from him to the duke himself;
To tax him with injustice?-Take him hence;

To the rack with him:-We'll touze you joint by joint,
But we will know his purpose:-What! unjust?
Duke. Be not so hot; the duke

Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he
Dare rack his own; his subject am I not,

Nor here provincial: my business in this state
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,

Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble,
Till it o'er-run the stew: laws for all faults;
But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes
Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.

Escal. Slander to the state! Away with him to prison. Ang. What can you vouch against him, signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of?

Lucio. 'Tis he, my lord.-Come hither, goodman bald-pate do you know me?

Duke. I remember you, Sir, by the sound of your voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke.

Lucio. O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke?

Duke. Most notedly, Sir.

Lucio. Do you so, Sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be?

Duke. You must, Sir, change persons with me, cre you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse.

Lucio. O thou damnable fellow! did not I pluck thee by the nose, for thy speeches?

Duke. I protest, I love the duke as I love myself. Ang. Hark! how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses.

Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal:Away with him to prison:-Where is the provost?-Away with him to prison; lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more:-Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion.

[The Provost lays hands on the Duke. Duke. Stay, Sir; stay a while.

Ang. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio. Lucio. Come, Sir; come, Sir; come, Sir; foh, Sir. Why, you bald-pated lying rascal! you must be hooded, must you? Shew your knave's visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd an hour! Will't not off?

[Pulls of the Friar's hood, and discovers the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er made a duke.

First, provost, let me bail these gentle three:-
Sneak not away, Sir; [7o Lucio] for the friar and you
Must have a word anon:-Lay hold on him.

Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; sit you
ITO ESCALUS.

down.-

We'll borrow place of him:-Sir, by your leave.
[TO ANGELO.

Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can do thee office? If thou hast,

Rely upon it till my tale be heard,

And hold no longer out.

Ang. O my dread lord,

I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,

To think I can be undiscernible,

When I perceive your grace, like power divine,
Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince,
No longer sesion hold upon my shame,
But let my trial be mine own confession;
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.

Duke. Come hither, Mariana:-

Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?

Ang. I was, my lord.

Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again:-Go with him, provost.

[Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, PETER, an! Provost. Escal. My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour, Than at the strangeness of it.

Duke. Come hither, Isabel:

Your friar is now your prince. As I was then
Advertising, and holy to your business,

Not changing heart with habit, I am still
Attorney'd at your service.

Isab. O, give me pardon,

That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown sovereignty.

Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel:
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart;
And you may marvel, why I obscured myself,
Labouring to save his life; and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power,
Than let him so be lost. O, most kind maid,
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which I did think with slower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpose. But peace be with him!
That life is better life, past fearing death,
Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort,
So happy is your brother.

Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, PETER, and Provost.
Isab. I do, my lord.

Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well-defended honour, you must pardon,

For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother, (Being criminal, in double violation

Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach,
Thereon dependent for your brother's life,)
The very mercy of the law cries out

Most audible, even from his proper tongue,

"An Angelo for Claudio, death for death."

Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;
Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure.
Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested;

Which though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage:
We do condemn thee to the very block

Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste;Away with him.

Mari. O, my most gracious lord,

I hope you will not mock me with a husband!

Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband: Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,

I thought your marriage fit; else imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choke your good to come: for his possessions,
Although by confiscation they are ours,

We do instate and widow you withal,

To buy you a better husband.

Mari. O, my dear lord,

I crave no other, nor no better man.

Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive.
Mari. Gentle my liege,-

Duke. You do but lose your labour;

[Kneeling.

Away with him to death.-Now, Sir, to you. [To Lucio.
Mari. O, my good lord !-Sweet Isabel, take my part:
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
I'll lend you all my life to do you service.

Duke. Against all sense you do impórtune her.
Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror.

Mari. Isabel,

Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me;

Hold up your hauds, say nothing, I'll speak all.
They say, best men are moulded out of faults;
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: so may my husband.
O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee?

[blocks in formation]

Prov. His name is Barnardine.
Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.-
Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him.

[Exit Provost.
Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise
As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood,
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

Ang I am sorry, that such sorrow I procure:
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:
'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.

Re-enter Provost, BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO, and JULIET.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine?
Prov. This, my lord.

Duke. There was a friar told me of this man :--
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul,

That apprehends no further than this world,

And squar'st thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd:
But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all;

And pray thee, take this mercy to provide
For better times to come:--Friar, advise him;

I leave him to your hand.-What muffled fellow's that?
Prov. This is another prisoner that I saved,
That should have died when Claudio lost his head;
As like almost to Claudio, as himself.

[Unmufles CLAUDIO. Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake,

[To ISABELLA.

Is he pardon'd; and, for your lovely sake,
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine,
He is my brother too: But fitter time for that.
By this, lord Angelo perceives he's safe;
Methinks, I see a quick'ning in his eye:
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well:

Look that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours.

I find an apt remission in myself:

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon ;

You, sirrah, [To LUCIO] that knew me for a fool, a coward,
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman;
Wherein have I so deserved of you,

That you extol me thus?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you, I might be whipp'd. Duke. Whipp'd first, Sir, and hang'd after.Proclaim it, provost, round about the city; If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow, (As I have heard him swear himself, there's one Whom he begot with child,) let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.

Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore! Your highness said, even now, I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me, in making me a cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits :-Take him to prison;
And see our pleasure herein executed.

[blocks in formation]

ACT I.

SCENE I-A Hall in the DUKE's Palace.

Enter Duke, ÆGEON, Jailer, Officer, and other
Attendants.

Ege. 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
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
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 ransom 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
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, 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 sponse:
From whom my absence was not six months old,
Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was.

There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;

And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
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 embraced,
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,
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 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 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 discover'd
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:

But ere they came,-0, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so; 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 burden'd
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 sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full

What hath befallen of them, and thee, till now.

Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive
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 labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
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 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 Egeon, whom the fates have mark'd

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,
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 :-
Jailer, take him to thy custody.

Jail. I will, my lord.

Age. Hopeless, and helpless, doth geon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end.

SCENE II.-A public Place.

[Exeunt.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse,
and a Merchant.

Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,
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.

Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, 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.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word,
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.

Mer. Sr, 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.

[late:

Here comes the almanack of my true date.-
What now? How chance thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too
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;
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. 0,-sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last,
To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper;-
The saddler had it, Sir: I kept it not.

Ant. 8. 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;
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this:
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?
Dro. E. To me, Sir? why, you gave no gold to me.
Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolish-
And tell me, how thou hast disposed thy charge. [ness,
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the
Home to your house, the Phoenix, Sir, to dinner; [mart
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 will break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undisposed: Where are 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.

Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the

Phoenix;

She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,
And prays that you will hie you home to dinner.
Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
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.

zit DROMIO R. Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device 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.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-A public Place.

Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.

[Exit.

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.

« SebelumnyaLanjutkan »