Two hundred ducats.
ADRIANA.
Say, how grows it due?
OFFICER.
Due for a chain your husband had of him.
ADRIANA.
He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not.
COURTEZAN.
When as your husband, all in rage, to-day
Came to my house, and took away my ring,—
The ring I saw upon his finger now,—
Straight after did I meet him with a chain.
ADRIANA.
It may be so, but I did never see it:
Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is,
I long to know the truth hereof at large.
[Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, with his rapier drawn, and DROMIO
OF SYRACUSE.]
LUCIANA.
God, for thy mercy! they are loose again.
ADRIANA.
And come with naked swords: let’s call more help,
To have them bound again.
OFFICER.
Away, they’ll kill us.
[Exeunt OFFICER, ADRIANA, and LUCIANA.]
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
I see these witches are afraid of swords.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
She that would be your wife now ran from you.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence:
I long that we were safe and sound aboard.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold; methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
I will not stay tonight for all the town;
Therefore away to get our stuff aboard.
[Exeunt.]
ACT V.
SCENE 1. The same.
[Enter MERCHANT and ANGELO.]
ANGELO.
I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder’d you;
But I protest he had the chain of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.
MERCHANT.
How is the man esteem’d here in the city?
ANGELO.
Of very reverend reputation, sir;
Of credit infinite, highly belov’d,
Second to none that lives here in the city:
His word might bear my wealth at any time.
MERCHANT.
Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks.
[Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.]
ANGELO.
‘Tis so; and that self chain about his neck
Which he forswore most monstrously to have.
Good sir, draw near to me, I’ll speak to him.—
Signior Andpholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble;
And, not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance and oaths so to deny
This chain, which now you wear so openly:
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend;
Who, but for staying on our controversy,
Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day;
This chain you had of me; can you deny it?
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
I think I had: I never did deny it.
MERCHANT.
Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?
MERCHANT.
These ears of mine, thou know’st, did hear thee.
Fie on thee, wretch! ‘tis pity that thou liv’st
To walk where any honest men resort.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Thou art a villain to impeach me thus;
I’ll prove mine honour and mine honesty
Against thee presently, if thou dar’st stand.
MERCHANT.
I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
[They draw.]
[Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, COURTEZAN, and others.]
ADRIANA.
Hold, hurt him not, for God’s sake; he is mad.
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
Run, master, run; for God’s sake, take a house.
This is some priory;—in, or we are spoil’d.
[Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE to the priory.]
[Enter the ABBESS.]
ABBESS.
Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither?
ADRIANA.
To fetch my poor distracted husband hence:
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast,
And bear him home for his recovery.
ANGELO.
I knew he was not in his perfect wits.
MERCHANT.
I am sorry now that I did draw on him.
ABBESS.
How long hath this possession held the man?
ADRIANA.
This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad,
And much different from the man he was:
But till this afternoon his passion
Ne’er brake into extremity of rage.
ABBESS.
Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea?
Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye
Stray’d his affection in unlawful love?
A sin prevailing much in youthful men
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrows