(Good gentleman!) the wrongs I have done thee, Afresh within me; and these thy offices, [stir So rarely kind, are as interpreters

Of my behind-hand slackness !-Welcome hither,
As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too
Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage
(At least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Neptune,
To greet a man, not worth her pains; much less
The adventure of her person?

Flo.

Good, my lord,

She came from Libya.
Leon.
Where the warlike Smalus,
That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd, and lov'd?
Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him,
whose daughter

His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence
(A prosperous south-wind friendly,) we have cross'd,
To execute the charge my father gave me,
For visiting your highness: My best train
I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd;
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify

Not only my success in Libya, sir,
But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety
Here, where we are.

Leon.

The blessed gods
Purge all infection from our air, whilst you
Do climate here! You have a holy father,
A graceful gentleman; against whose person,
So sacred as it is, I have done sin :

For which the heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issueless; and your father's bless'd,
(As he from heaven merits it,) with you,
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
Such goodly things as you ?

That which I shall report, will bear no credit,
Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
Bohemia greets you from himself by me :
Desires you to attach his son; who has
(His dignity and duty both cast off,)

Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
A shepherd's daughter.
Leon.

Where's Bohemia ? speak. Lord. Here in the city; I now came from him I speak amazedly; and it becomes

My marvel, and my message. To your court
Whiles he was hast'ning, (in the chase, it seems,
Of this fair couple,) meets he on the way
The father of this seeming lady, and

Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.

Flo.

Camillo has betray'd me; Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now, Endur'd all weathers.

:

Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,
That you might well enjoy her.
Flo.

Dear, look up:

Though fortune, visible an enemy,
Should chase us, with my father; power no jot
Hath she to change our loves.-'Beseech you, sir,
Remember since you ow'd no more to time
Than I do now: with thought of such affections,
Step forth mine advocate; at your request,
My father will grant precious things, as trifles.
Leon. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mis-
Which he counts but a trifle.
[tress,
Paul.
Sir, my liege,
Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month
'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such
Than what you look on now.
[gazes
Leon.
I thought of her,
Even in these looks I made.-But your petition
[To Florizel.

Is yet unanswer'd I will to your father;
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
I am a friend to them, and you: upon which errand
I now go toward him; therefore follow me,
And mark what way I make: Come, good my lord.
[Exeunt.

Before the Palace.

SCENE II.-The same.
Enter Autolycus and a Gentleman.

Aut. 'Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation ?

1 Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; only this, methought I heard the shepherd say, he found the child.

Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it.

1 Gent. I make a broken delivery of the business-But the changes I perceived in the king, and Camillo, were very notes of admiration they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: A notable passion of wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance were joy, or sorrow: but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be.

Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes a gentleman, that, happily, knows more: The news, Rogero ? 2 Gent. Nothing but bonfires : The oracle is fulfilled; the king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour, that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it.

Enter a third Gentleman.

Here comes the lady Paulina's steward; he can deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news, which is called true, is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion : Has the king found his heir ?

3 Gent. Most true; if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance; that, which you hear, you'll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of queen Hermione :-her jewel about the neck of it-the letters of Antigonus, found with it, which they know to be his character:-the majesty of the creature, in resemblance of the mother; -the affection of nobleness, which nature shows above her breeding,-and many other evidences, proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings?

2 Gent. No.

3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another; so, and in such manner, that, it seemed, sorrow wept to take leave

content

In many singularities; but we saw not

That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother.

Paul.

As she liv'd peerless, So her dead likeness, I do well believe, Excels whatever yet you look'd upon, Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart: But here it is: prepare To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever

Still sleep mock'd death: behold; and say, 'tis well.

[Paulina undraws a curtain, and discovers a statue. I like your silence, it the more shows off Your wonder: But yet speak ;-first, you, my liege. Comes it not something near?

Leon. Her natural posture! Chide me, dear stone; that I may say, indeed, Thou art Hermione: or, rather, thou art she, In thy not chiding; for she was as tender, As infancy, and grace.-But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled; nothing So aged, as this seems. O, not by much.

Pol. Paul. So much the more our carver's excellence; Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her As she liv'd now. Leon. As now she might have done, So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, Even with such life of majesty, (warm life, As now it coldly stands,) when first I woo'd her! I am asham'd: Does not the stone rebuke me, For being more stone than it ?-O, royal piece, There's magick in thy majesty; which has My evils conjur'd to remembrance; and From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, Standing like stone with thee!

Per.

And give me leave; And do not say, 'tis superstition, that I kneel, and then implore her blessing.-Lady, Dear queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours, to kiss. Paul.

O, patience : The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry.

Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on: Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, So many summers, dry: scarce any joy Did ever so long live; no sorrow,

But kill'd itself much sooner.

If I had thought, the sight of my poor image

For this affliction has a taste as sweet

As any cordial comfort.-Still, methinks,
There is an air comes from her: What fine chisel
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
For I will kiss her.

Paul.

Good my lord, forbear: The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own With oily painting: Shall I draw the curtain ? Leon. No, not these twenty years. So long could 1

Per.

Stand by, a looker on. Paul.

Either forbear, Quit presently the chapel; or resolve you For more amazement: If you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed; descend, And take you by the hand: but then you'll think, (Which I protest against,) I am assisted By wicked powers.

Leon.

What you can make her do,

I am content to look on: what to speak,
I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy
To make her speak, as move.
Paul.
It is requir'd,
You do awake your faith: Then, all stand still;
Or those, that think it is unlawful business
I am about, let them depart.
Leon.
No foot shall stir.
Paul.

Proceed;

Musick; awake her: strike.[Musick. 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more: approach; Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come; I'll fill your grave up: stir; nay, come away; Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Dear life redeems you. You perceive, she stirs ; [Hermione comes down from the pedestal. Start not: her actions shall be holy, as, You hear, my spell is lawful: do not shun her, Until you see her die again; for then You kill her double; Nay, present your hand : When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in age, Is she become the suitor.

Cam. She hangs about his neck;

If she pertain to life, let her speak too.

Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has liv'd, Or, how stol'n from the dead? Paul. That she is living, Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old tale; but it appears, she lives,

Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I,-
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being,-have preserv'd
Myself, to see the issue.

Paul.
There's time enough for that.
Lest they desire, upon this push to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there
My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.

As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,

But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her, As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far (For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee An honourable husband :-Come, Camillo, And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty,

Is richly noted; and here justified

dons,

That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,)
Is troth-plight to your daughter.-Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away.

[Exeunt.

ACT 1.

Pinch, a schoolmaster and a conjurer.
Emilia, wife to Egeon, an Abbess at Ephesus.
Adriana, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus.
Luciana, her sister.
Luce, her servant.
A Courtezan.

Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.

SCENE I-A Hall in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, Egeon, Gaoler, Officers, 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 sealed 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 traffick 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 im-
pos'd,

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 liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd,
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 spouse:
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 tragick 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 embrac'd,
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 sea-faring 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 wish'd 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,-0, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off For we may pity, though not pardon thee. [so;

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 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 seiz'd 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.

[for,

Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest Do me the favour to dilate at full What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now. Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother; and importun'd 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 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 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 mark'd

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 And go indeed, having so good a mean.

[word,

[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. Sir, 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.

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

late :

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 :-
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.

Gaol. I will, my lord.

Æge. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A publick Place. 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 bear out his life,
According to the statute of the town,

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,

foolishness,