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You say, he dined at home; the goldsmith here
Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porcupine.
Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd that ring.
Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of
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
I think, you are all mated, or stark mad.
Exit an Attendant. Ege. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a
Haply, I see a friend will save my life,
Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt, Ege. 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:
Æge. I am sure, you both of you remember me.
Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. Ege. Oh! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last;
And careful hours, with Time's deformed' hand,
Have written strange defeatures in my face:
Dromio, nor thou?
Dro. E. No, trust me, sir,
I am sure, thou dost. Dro. E. Ay, sir? but I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.
Ege. Not know my voice! O, times extremity! Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue, In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares?" Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up; Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. Ant. E. I never saw my father in my Ege. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know'st, we parted: but, perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery.
Ant. E. The duke, and all that know me in the city,
Can witness with me that it is not so;
I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.
6 strange defeatures-] Defeatures are certainly neither more nor less than features; as demerits are neither more nor less than merits. Time, says Ægeon, hath placed new and strange features in my face; i. e. given it quite a different appearance: no wonder therefore thou dost not know me. RITSON.
7 my feeble key of untun'd cares?] i. e. the weak and discordant tone of my voice, that is changed by grief. Douce.
this grained face-] i. e. furrowed, like the grain of
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa:
Enter the Abbess, with ANTIPHOLUS Syracusan, and DROMIO Syracusan.
Abb. Most mighty Duke, behold a man much [All gather to see him. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive
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. 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
That had'st a wife once called Æmilia,
Ege. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia;
Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I,
Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right:9
These two Antipholus's, these two so like,
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.
Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous warrior
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
And are not you my husband?
Ant. E. No, I say nay to that.
Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so;
Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you,
• Why, here begins his morning story right:]" The morning story" is what Ægeon tells the duke in the first scene of this play.
And Dromio my man did bring them me:
Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here.
Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the
To go with us into the abbey here,
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes:-
Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail
The duke, my husband, and my children both,
Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast. [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, ÆGEON, Courtezan, Merchant, ANGELO, and Attendants.
Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff, from shipboard?
Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?
Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.
Ant. S. He speaks to me; I am your master,
1 After so long grief, such nativity!] She has just said, that to her, her sons were not born till now.