The Comedy of Errors The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [9 vols.] · William Shakespeare
ACT V.
_SCENE I. A street before a Priory._ _Enter _Second Merchant_ and ANGELO._ _Ang._ I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder’d you; But, I protest, he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. _Sec. Mer._ How is the man esteem’d here in the city? _Ang._ Of very reverent reputation, sir, 5 Of credit infinite, highly beloved, Second to none that lives here in the city: His word might bear my wealth at any time. _Sec. Mer._ Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks. _Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_ and _DROMIO of Syracuse_._ _Ang._ ’Tis so; and that self chain about his neck, 10 Which he forswore most monstrously to have. Good sir, draw near to me, I’ll speak to him; Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble; And, not without some scandal to yourself, 15 With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain which now you wear so openly: Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend; Who, but for staying on our controversy, 20 Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day: This chain you had of me; can you deny it? _Ant. S._ I think I had; I never did deny it. _Sec. Mer._ Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.
_Ant. S._ Who heard me to deny it or forswear it? 25 _Sec. Mer._ These ears of mine, thou know’st, did hear thee. Fie on thee, wretch! ’tis pity that thou livest To walk where any honest men resort. _Ant. S._ Thou art a villain to impeach me thus: I’ll prove mine honour and mine honesty 30 Against thee presently, if thou darest stand. _Sec. Mer._ I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. [_They draw._ _Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the _Courtezan_, and others._ _Adr._ Hold, hurt him not, for God’s sake! he is mad. Some get within him, take his sword away: Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. 35 _Dro. S._ Run, master, run; for God’s sake, take a house! This is some priory.--In, or we are spoil’d! [_Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S. to the Priory._ _Enter the _Lady Abbess_._ _Abb._ Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither? _Adr._ To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. Let us come in, that we may bind him fast, 40 And bear him home for his recovery. _Ang._ I knew he was not in his perfect wits. _Sec. Mer._ I am sorry now that I did draw on him. _Abb._ How long hath this possession held the man? _Adr._ This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, 45 And much different from the man he was; But till this afternoon his passion Ne’er brake into extremity of rage.
_Abb._ Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye 50 Stray’d his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevailing much in youthful men, Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrows is he subject to? _Adr._ To none of these, except it be the last; 55 Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. _Abb._ You should for that have reprehended him. _Adr._ Why, so I did. _Abb._ Ay, but not rough enough. _Adr._ As roughly as my modesty would let me. _Abb._ Haply, in private. _Adr._ And in assemblies too. 60 _Abb._ Ay, but not enough. _Adr._ It was the copy of our conference: In bed, he slept not for my urging it; At board, he fed not for my urging it; Alone, it was the subject of my theme; 65 In company I often glanced it; Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. _Abb._ And thereof came it that the man was mad:-- The venom clamours of a jealous woman, Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. 70 It seems his sleeps were hinder’d by thy railing: And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou say’st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings: Unquiet meals make ill digestions; Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; 75 And what’s a fever but a fit of madness? Thou say’st his sports were hinder’d by thy brawls: Sweet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue But moody and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; 80 And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturb’d, would mad or man or beast: The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits 85 Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.
_Luc._ She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean’d himself rough, rude, and wildly. Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not? _Adr._ She did betray me to my own reproof. 90 Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. _Abb._ No, not a creature enters in my house. _Adr._ Then let your servants bring my husband forth. _Abb._ Neither: he took this place for sanctuary, And it shall privilege him from your hands 95 Till I have brought him to his wits again, Or lose my labour in assaying it. _Adr._ I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office, And will have no attorney but myself; 100 And therefore let me have him home with me. _Abb._ Be patient; for I will not let him stir Till I have used the approved means I have, With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers, To make of him a formal man again: 105 It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order. Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. _Adr._ I will not hence, and leave my husband here: And ill it doth beseem your holiness 110 To separate the husband and the wife. _Abb._ Be quiet, and depart: thou shalt not have him. [_Exit._
_Adr._ May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husband,-- Whom I made lord of me and all I had, At your important letters,--this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him; That desperately he hurried through the street,-- 140 With him his bondman, all as mad as he,-- Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. Once did I get him bound, and sent him home, 145 Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went, That here and there his fury 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 himself, 150 Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Chased us away; till, raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursued them; 155 And here the abbess shuts the gates on us, And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy command Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help. 160 _Duke._ Long since thy husband served me in my wars; And I to thee engaged a prince’s word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate, 165 And bid the lady abbess come to me. I will determine this before I stir.
_Enter a _Servant_._ _Serv._ O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself! My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, 170 Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire; And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair: My master preaches patience to him, and the while His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; 175 And sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer. _Adr._ Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here; And that is false thou dost report to us. _Serv._ Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; 180 I have not breathed almost since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face and to disfigure you. [_Cry within._ Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress: fly, be gone! _Duke._ Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard with halberds! 185 _Adr._ Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you, That he is borne about invisible: Even now we housed him in the abbey here; And now he’s there, past thought of human reason. _Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_ and _DROMIO of Ephesus_._ _Ant. E._ Justice, most gracious Duke, O, grant me justice! 190 Even for the service that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.
_Ant. E._ My liege, I am advised what I say; Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, 215 Nor heady-rash, provoked 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 witness it, for he was with me then; 220 Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, I went to seek him: in the street I met him, 225 And in his company that gentleman. There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him received the chain, Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which He did arrest me with an officer. 230 I did obey; and sent my peasant home For certain ducats: he with none return’d. Then fairly I bespoke the officer To go in person with me to my house. By the way we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more 235 Of vile confederates. Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 240 A living-dead man: this pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face, as ’twere, outfacing me, Cries out, I was possess’d. Then all together 245 They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a dark 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 freedom, and immediately 250 Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities.
_Ang._ My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him, That he dined not at home, but was lock’d out. 255 _Duke._ But had he such a chain of thee or no? _Ang._ He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. _Sec. Mer._ Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him, 260 After you first forswore it on the mart: And thereupon I drew my sword on you; And then you fled into this abbey here, From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. _Ant. E._ I never came within these abbey-walls; 265 Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven: And this is false you burden me withal! _Duke._ Why, what an intricate impeach is this! I think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup. 270 If here you housed him, here he would have been; If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly: 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 Porpentine. 275 _Cour._ He did; and from my finger snatch’d that ring. _Ant. E._ ’Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her.
_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. 280 I think you are all mated, or stark mad. [_Exit one to the Abbess._ _Æge._ 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, Syracusian, what thou wilt. 285 _Æge._ 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. 290 _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? _Æge._ Why look you strange on me? you know me well. 295 _Ant. E._ I never saw you in my life till now. _Æge._ O, grief hath changed 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? 300 _Ant. E._ Neither.
_Re-enter _Abbess_, with _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_ and _DROMIO of Syracuse_._ _Abb._ Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong’d. [_All gather to see them._ _Adr._ I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. 330 _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. 335 _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 340 That hadst a wife once call’d 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! _Æge._ If I dream not, thou art Æmilia: 345 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 350 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: 355 These two Antipholuses, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance,-- Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,-- These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together. 360 Antipholus, thou camest 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. 365 _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. 370 _Ant. S._ And so do I; yet did she call me so: And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother. [_To Lucia._] What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good; If this be not a dream I see and hear. 375 _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, 380 By Dromio; but I think he brought it not. _Dro. E._ No, none by me. _Ant. S._ This purse of ducats I received from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me. I see we still did meet each other’s man; 385 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. 390 _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, 395 That by this sympathized one day’s error Have suffer’d wrong, go keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.-- Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons; and till this present hour 400 My heavy burthen ne’er delivered. The Duke, my husband, and my children both, And you the calendars of their nativity, Go to a gossips’ feast, and go with me; After so long grief, such nativity! 405 _Duke._ With all my heart, I’ll gossip at this feast.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.