ACT V.

SCENE I. The same. Before an Abbey.

Enter Merchant and ANGELO.

Ang. 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. Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in the city? Ang. 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.
Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse.

Ang. '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 Antipholus, 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 operly:
Besides 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?
Ant. S. I think I had: I never did deny it.
Mer. Yes, that you did, sir; and forswore it too.
Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it?
Mer. These ears of mine, thou knowest, did hear
thee

Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou liv'st
To walk where any honest men resort.

Ant. S. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus:
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand.
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.

[They draw

Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, Courtezan, and Others. Adr. Hold! hurt him not, for God's sake! he is

Some get within him,' take his sword away:
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.
Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God's sake take
a house!?

This is some priory :-In, or we are spoil'd.

[Exeunt ANTIPH. and DRO. to the Abbey.

Enter the Lady Abbess.

Abb. Be quiet, people: Wherefore throng you hither?

Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. Let us come in, that we may bind him fast, And bear him home for his recovery.

Ang. I knew he was not in his perfect wits. Mer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on him. Abb. How long hath this possession held the man? Adr. 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.

Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea ?

tuary.

That is, close, grapple with him.

That is, go into a house: as people used to say, take sanc

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 is he subject to?

Adr. To none of these, except it be the last; Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. Abb. You should for that have reprehended him Adr. Why, so I did.

Abb.

Ay, but not rough enough.

Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me.

Abb. Haply, in private.

Adr.

Abb. Ay, but not enough.

And in assemblies too.

Adr. It was the copie 3 of our conference:

In bed, he slept not for my urging it;
At board, he fed not for my urging it;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme;
In company, I often glanc'd at it;

Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abb. And therefore came it, that the man was mad : The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing; And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings. Unquiet meals make ill digestions;

Thereof the raging fire of fever bred:

And what's a fever but a fit of madness?

Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls •

3 That is, the main part, or, as we should now say, the burden of our discourse: from the Latin copia. So, Gosson in his School of Abuse has "copie of abuses," meaning abundance; and Cooper in his Latin Thesaurus," to use words with great copie and abun dance." We print copie, as in the original, to distinguish it from The word has long been obsolete.

copy.

H.

Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull melancholy,

4

Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair,
And at her heels a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest
To be disturb'd would mad or man or beast:
The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits
Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits.

Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly.Why hear you these rebukes, and answer not?

Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. Good people, enter, and lay hold on him.

Abb. No; not a creature enters in my house. Adr. Then, let your servants bring my husband forth.

:

Abb. Neither he took this place for sanctuary, And it shall privilege him from your hands, Till I have brought him to his wits again, Or lose my labour in assaying it.

Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness; for it is my office,

5

And will have no attorney but myself;
And therefore let me have him home with me.
Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir,
Till I have us'd the approved meaus I have,
With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal man again."

4 This her, referring to kinsman, seems to have puzzled the commentators. It was no very wonderful thing for such words to be applied to females. Thus in The Merchant of Venice Portia says, "But now I was the lord of this fair mansion, master of my servants."

5 That is, substitute.

H.

6 That is, to bring him back to his senses, and the accustomed

for as of sober behaviour. See Measure for Measure, Act v. sc

It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order;

Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.
Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here;
And ill it doth beseem your holiness,

To separate the husband and the wife.

Abb. Be quiet, and depart: thou shalt not have him. [Exit. Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity. Adr. Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet, And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his grace to come in person hither, And take perforce my husband from the abbess.

Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five: Anon, I am sure, the duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale,

7

The place of death and sorry execution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

Ang. Upon what cause?

Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant,

Who put unluckily into this bay

Against the laws and statutes of this town,

Beheaded publicly for his offence.

Ang. See, where they come: we will behold his death.

Luc. Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey.

Enter DUKE attended; ÆGEON bare-headed; with the Headsman and other Officers.

Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly,

If any friend will pay the sum for him,

He shall not die, so much we tender him.

Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess!

7 That is, dismal. The original has depth instead of death.