And thereupon these errors are arose.
ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
These ducats pawn I for my father here.
DUKE.
It shall not need; thy father hath his life.
COURTEZAN.
Sir, I must have that diamond from you.
ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer.
ABBESS.
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,
That by this sympathized one day’s error
Have suffer’d wrong, go, keep us company,
And we shall make full satisfaction—
Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons; nor till this present hour
My heavy burdens are 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!
DUKE.
With all my heart, I’ll gossip at this feast.
[Exeunt DUKE, ABBESS, AEGEON, Courtezan, Merchant, ANGELO, and
Attendants.]
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?
ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS.
Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark’d?
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
He speaks to me; I am your master, Dromio:
Come, go with us: we’ll look to that anon:
Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.
[Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE and ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS,
ADRIANA, and LUCIANA.]
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
There is a fat friend at your master’s house,
That kitchen’d me for you to-day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother:
I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossiping?
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Not I, sir; you are my elder.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
That’s a question; how shall we try it?
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
We’ll draw cuts for the senior: till then, lead thou first.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS.
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.]
THE END
LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST
By William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae.
FERDINAND, King of Navarre
BEROWNE, Lord attending on the King
LONGAVILLE, Lord attending on the King
DUMAINE, Lord attending on the King
BOYET, Lord attending on the Princess of France
MARCADE, Lord attending on the Princess of France
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a fantastical Spaniard
SIR NATHANIEL, a Curate
HOLOFERNES, a Schoolmaster
DULL, a Constable
COSTARD, a Clown
MOTH, Page to Armado
A FORESTER
THE PRINCESS OF FRANCE
ROSALINE, Lady attending on the Princess
MARIA, Lady attending on the Princess
KATHARINE, Lady attending on the Princess
JAQUENETTA, a country wench
Officers and Others, Attendants on the King and Princess.
SCENE: Navarre
ACT I.
SCENE I. The King of Navarre’s park
[Enter the King, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN.]
KING.
Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live regist’red upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors—for so you are
That war against your own affections
And the huge army of the world’s desires—
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;
Our court shall be a little academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Berowne, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes
That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are pass’d; and now subscribe your names,
That his own hand may strike his honour down
That violates the smallest branch herein.
If you are arm’d to do as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
LONGAVILLE.
I am resolv’d; ‘tis but a three years’ fast:
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.
DUMAINE.
My loving lord, Dumain is mortified:
The grosser manner of these world’s delights
He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves;
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die,