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 together.
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 rabble more
Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine;
A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,
A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,
A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;
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 me,
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
Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out
Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?
Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,
These people saw the Chaine about his necke
Mar. 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
E.Ant. 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
Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?
I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:
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?
E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine
Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring
E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her
Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?
Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace
Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither.
I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.
Exit one to the Abbesse.
Fa. 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
Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt
Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman Dromio?
E.Dro. 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
Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me
Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you:
For lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinches patient, are you sir?
Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know
me well
E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now
Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last,
And carefull houres with times deformed hand,
Haue written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
Ant. Neither
Fat. Dromio, nor thou?
Dro. No trust me sir, nor I
Fa. I am sure thou dost?
E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer
a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him
Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue
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
Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life
Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy
Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie
Ant. 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 life
Duke. 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.
Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much
wrong'd.
All gather to see them.
Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me
Duke. One of these men is genius to the other:
And so of these, which is the naturall man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away
E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay
S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost
S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him
heere?
Abb. 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 Aemilia,
That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?
Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:
And speake vnto the same Aemilia
Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right:
These two Antipholus, these two so like,
And these two Dromio's, one in semblance:
Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea,
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together
Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia,
If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne
That floated with thee on the fatall rafte
Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;
But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth
By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them,
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
Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first
S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse
Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which
E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord
E.Dro. And I with him
E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous
Warriour,
Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?
S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris
Adr. And are not you my husband?
E.Ant. No, I say nay to that
S.Ant. 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
Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of
mee
S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not
E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me
Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not
Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile
By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not
E.Dro. No, none by me
S.Ant. 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
E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere
Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life
Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you
E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good
cheere
Abb. 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,
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
Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.
Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.
S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord?
E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt
S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur
S.Ant. 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.
Exit
S.Dro. 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,
E.D. 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?
S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder
E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it
S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,
lead thou first
E.Dro. Nay then thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother:
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
Exeunt.
FINIS. The Comedie of Errors.
Much adoe about Nothing
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his
daughter,
and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.
Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon,
comes this night to Messina
Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not
three Leagues off when I left him
Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this
action?
Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name
Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer
brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter
hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called
Claudio
Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred
by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the
promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the
feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation,
then you must expect of me to tell you how
Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very
much glad of it
Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there
appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could
not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bitternesse
Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
Mess. In great measure
Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces
truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better
is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping?
Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from
the warres, or no?
Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was
none such in the armie of any sort
Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece?
Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua
Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was
Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd
Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the
Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at
the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and
eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for
indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing
Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too
much, but hee'l be meete with you, I doubt it not
Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars
Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to
ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an
excellent stomacke
Mess. And a good souldier too Lady
Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he
to a Lord?
Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with
all honourable vertues
Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man:
but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall
Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is
a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her:
they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between
them
Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict,
foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is
the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue
wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it
for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it
is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable
creature. Who is his companion now? He hath
euery month a new sworne brother
Mess. Is't possible?
Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as
the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with y next block
Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your
bookes
Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But
I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young
squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the
diuell?
Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble
Claudio
Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease:
he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker
runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee
haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand
pound ere he be cur'd
Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady
Bea. Do good friend
Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece
Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary
Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the
bastard.
Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost,
and you encounter it
Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes
of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should
remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides,
and happinesse takes his leaue
Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I
thinke this is your daughter
Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so
Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her?
Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a
childe
Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by
this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers
her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable
father
Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not
haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him
as she is
Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior
Benedicke, no body markes you
Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet
liuing?
Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee
hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke?
Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in
her presence
Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine
I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and
I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard
heart, for truely I loue none
Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else
haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke
God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I
had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man
sweare he loues me
Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde,
so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate
scratcht face
Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere
such a face as yours were
Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher
Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of
your
Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue,
and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods
name, I haue done
Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know
you of old
Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio,
and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath
inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least
a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may detaine
vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but
praies from his heart
Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne,
let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled
to the Prince your brother: I owe you all
duetie
Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I
thanke you
Leon. Please it your grace leade on?
Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.
Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.
Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior
Leonato?
Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her
Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie?
Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should
doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue
me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant
to their sexe?
Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement
Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie
praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a
great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her,
that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome,
and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her
Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me
truely how thou lik'st her
Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after
her?
Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell?
Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this
with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to
tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare
Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to
goe in the song?
Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer
I lookt on
Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no
such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest
with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first
of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue
no intent to turne husband, haue you?
Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had
sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife
Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one
man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer
see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith,
and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare
the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro
is returned to seeke you.
Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.
Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed
not to Leonatoes?
Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to
tell
Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance
Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a
dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance,
marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in
loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke
how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short
daughter
Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred
Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas
not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so
Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it
should be otherwise
Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie
well worthie
Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord
Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought
Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine
Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I
speake mine
Clau. That I loue her, I feele
Pedr. That she is worthie, I know
Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued,
nor know how shee should be worthie, is the
opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at
the stake
Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight
of Beautie
Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the
force of his will
Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that
she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble
thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my
forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all
women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the
wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to
trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the
finer) I will liue a Batchellor
Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue
Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger,
my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more
blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking,
picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and
hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe
of blinde Cupid
Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith,
thou wilt proue a notable argument
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot
at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder,
and cal'd Adam
Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage
Bull doth beare the yoake
Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible
Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set
them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and
in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse
to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may
see Benedicke the married man
Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee
horne mad
Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly
Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then
Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in
the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes,
commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile
him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation
Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an
Embassage, and so I commit you
Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I
had it
Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick
Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your
discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the
guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout
old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I
leaue you.
Enter.
Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee
good
Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne
Any hard Lesson that may do thee good
Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord?
Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire.
Dost thou affect her Claudio?
Clau. O my Lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie,
That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to driue liking to the name of loue:
But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts
Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres
Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words:
If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it,
And I will breake with her: wast not to this end,
That thou beganst to twist so fine a story?
Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue,
That know loues griefe by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme,
I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise
Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood?
The fairest graunt is the necessitie:
Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest,
And I will fit thee with the remedie,
I know we shall haue reuelling to night,
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong incounter of my amorous tale:
Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine,
In practise let vs put it presently.
Exeunt.
Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.
Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son:
hath he prouided this musicke?
Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell
you newes that you yet dreamt not of
Lo. Are they good?
Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good
couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count
Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard,
were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discouered
to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter,
and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance,
and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the
present time by the top, and instantly breake with you
of it
Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and
question him your selfe
Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare
it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall,
that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture
this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins,
you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie
friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill,
good cosin haue a care this busie time.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.
Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you
thus out of measure sad?
Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds,
therefore the sadnesse is without limit
Con. You should heare reason
Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth
it?
Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance
Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art,
borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine,
to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I
am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no
mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no
mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no
mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man
in his humor