master preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool;
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.
Mess.
Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true;
I have not breath’d 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!
Adr.
Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible:
Even now we hous’d him in the abbey here,
And now he’s there, past thought of human reason.
Enter Antipholus [of Ephesus] and Dromio of Ephesus.
E. Ant.
Justice, most gracious Duke, O, grant me justice,
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.
Ege.
Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I see my son Antipholus and Dromio.
E. Ant.
Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there!
She whom thou gav’st to me to be my wife;
That hath abused and dishonored me,
Even in the strength and height of injury:
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke.
Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
E. Ant.
This day, great Duke, she shut the doors upon me,
While she with harlots feasted in my house.
Duke.
A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst thou so?
Adr.
No, my good lord. Myself, he, and my sister
To-day did dine together: so befall my soul
As this is false he burthens me withal!
Luc.
Ne’er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she tells to your Highness simple truth!
Ang.
O perjur’d woman! They are both forsworn:
In this the madman justly chargeth them.
E. Ant.
My liege, I am advised what I say,
Neither disturbed with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash, provok’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 witness it, for he was with me then,
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,
And in his company that gentleman.
There did this perjur’d goldsmith swear me down
That I this day of him receiv’d the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not; for the which
He did arrest me with an officer.
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 th’ way we met
My wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vild confederates. Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac’d villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp-looking wretch,
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,
