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Bound by Faith

CHAPTER TWO: PHILAUTIA

Chapter Rating: Teen (full story is rated Explicit) Pairing: Aureia Malathar (WoL)/Thancred Waters Major Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Thancred Waters, Urianger Augurelt, Ryne Chapter Words: 8,787 Notes: Set post-5.0., spoilers for Shadowbringers base. Summary: With their enemies defeated and the First saved, the Crystarium is alive with celebration. Despite the joy around her, Aureia is uncertain about the next steps to take. So is Thancred, for that matter. The puzzle of their lives has sat incomplete for years, but finally this last, precious piece may be able to slide into place. Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 Read on AO3

Thancred exhales a long sigh and folds his arms, shifting idly from foot to foot. Despite the thick layers of his overcoat, the brick wall presses uncomfortably into his back. The price to pay for his position. He didn’t arrive at the Wandering Stairs with the intention to lurk in the shadows—if anything, he wanted to ask Glynard for a pint of his finest—but old habits die hard. Even in the midst of what could easily be described as a world-wide celebration, an event the likes of which the Crystarium has never seen, he still found himself seeking out an advantageous spot. From here, he has a full view of the tavern and the markets beyond and can easily pick his friends out in the crowd.

Not that he thinks the others can’t look after themselves. But he has seen festivities go awry before and even here, even now, with the enemy defeated and the night sky returned, he cannot shake the need to stay on guard.

Ryne has already gently chastised him for it. Gods know what Aureia will say when she finds him. Or Urianger—

“I see thou hast returned to thy usual proclivities. Not unlike a moth drawn unto flame.”

Thancred closes his eyes. Well, that didn’t last long.

He opens his eyes and spots Urianger cutting a clear path across the tavern, a head and shoulders above most of the patrons. His pace is even and relaxed, as though a great weight has been lifted from him, and he carries a glass of wine and a tankard in his hands.

“And here I thought tonight’s events would be reason enough to lay off on the undeserved commentary,” Thancred shoots back, eyeing him as he draws up beside him. “I don’t see why it’s necessary to insult my character like this.”

“Insult? Nay, my friend. ’Tis simple observation. But if thou dost crave stringent lectures from an e’er sharp tongue, Y’shtola’s company will suffice.”

“Oh, daring to bring Y’shtola into this now, are we? Very brave of you. Tell me, have you had much to drink this fine evening? I seem to recall you being something of a lightweight. Perhaps that explains it.”

Urianger chortles. They exchange grins, far too entertained by this simple back-and-forth that has become a permanent part of their camaraderie. Without a word, he thrusts the tankard into Thancred’s hands and tips him his own in a silent salute.

Thancred murmurs his thanks, absently wrapping his fingers around the handle as he searches the tavern for Y’shtola. From the prickle on the back of his neck, he would prefer if she didn’t overhear that last bit of their conversation lest they never hear the end of it. Thankfully, last he saw her, she was deep in a spirited argument with Moren—and he wasn’t entirely sure who was winning.

Urianger sips at his drink, a blissfully content expression on his face. “Ryne hast outdone herself,” he says, nodding to the garlands decorating the windows and wrapped around the wrought-iron railings. “Truthfully, her enthusiasm hath struck me with some surprise. Ne’er did I anticipate such an ardent desire to participate in such things, but mayhap I underestimated the breadth of her interests.”

Thancred smiles. “I daresay she has a talent for it. And for worming her way into others’ hearts.”

The truth of the matter is that neither of them expected Ryne to throw herself so whole-heartedly into the planning stages of the festivities. They had scarcely returned from the Tempest and she was already tracking down Lyna, demanding to know how she could help. Considering how little time they have spent in the Crystarium on the whole, it took him by surprise at how quickly she found her footing here.

And it’s hard not to wonder whether it would have happened sooner if not for him. The Exarch had given them accommodations, yes, but just as Urianger flocked to Il Mheg and Y’shtola ingratiated herself in Slitherbough, he did not see much reason to remain. His hunt for sin eaters took him clear across Norvrandt, a duty that did not cease even after he spirited Ryne away from Eulmore. He dragged her everywhere. Training her. Protecting her.

And all but suffocating her spirit.

He grimaces at the memory. That Ryne saw fit to forgive him when he can hardly forgive himself… It speaks volumes about the kind of person she is. The one she will grow to be.

“We really should have known better,” he adds after a moment. “Once she sets her sights on a matter, there’s no stopping her.”

Urianger raises an eyebrow. “Indeed,” he says soberly, lowering his wine. “And thy pride in her is more than palpable.”

“Am I proud…?” He chuckles, shaking his head at himself. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

“Then why dost though linger, Thancred? If I may—and no, I must insist thou resist the temptation to interrupt and heed mine words for the duration of this moment—when I didst speak with Ryne earlier this eve, I sensed some disappointment that thou hast withdrawn unto the outskirts. I am uncertain what she envisioned for tonight, but to remain uninvolved and standing on the fringes mayhap communicates to her that thou dost not share in her excitement.”

“It is not that, let me assure you! And you’re one to talk. I haven’t seen you partaking in the festivities either. Have you considered that Ryne may be just as disappointed in you as she is in me—”

“I have been contending with Feo Ul’s most gracious of ambassadors—”

“Of course you have—”

“—who are—it is paramount to note—little scoundrels.”

“Urianger, you do realize that the day will come when you will not have pixies to use as an excuse?”

“Aye. But the day when our massy souls depart the First to return to their vessels upon the Source is not yet upon us. There is much to be done beforehand to ensure safe passage from one world to the next.”

Ugh. Thancred’s shoulders slump. “Please, I am begging you, never use the word massy like that again. Or refer to our bodies as vessels, for that matter.”

Urianger smiles serenely and tips his wine glass to him.

He sighs and scratches the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Perhaps I should clarify. It is not that I have no desire to partake, but rather that my head still spins from all we’ve accomplished. What we bore witness to. As detestable Emet-Selch and his whole rotten ilk are… I cannot so easily forget what we saw in Amaurot. And—gods damn it, I cannot believe I am saying this about an Ascian—perhaps I do understand something of him after all. That desperation to cling to what you loved… to what was lost…”

“The horrors of that bygone era hath given us much to ponder, ‘tis true,” Urianger says gently. “Thou art not alone in thine preoccupation. There are many questions whose answers may be forever beyond our knowing. Mayhap they will haunt us for the remainder of our days—or perchance we will expose their anagogic secrets. For now, that fate remains unknown. But it does not behoove us to indulge in such preoccupations on an eve such as this one, and so it is my turn to beg something of thee. Set aside the temptation to linger on it for the duration of tonight. There will be sufficient time for that anon.”

“I know.”

“Look to thy loved ones. This time is for them and them alone.”

“I am. I do. And you do know you’re included in that, Urianger—”

“I do not speak of myself and thou knowest that plainly.”

Thancred pauses, a lump forming in his throat. Much like Y’shtola, Urianger has a way of striking through to the heart of the matter—even when it takes him twelve sentences to get there when one would suffice.

Beyond the Wandering Stairs, Ryne dashes across the Quadrivium’s lawns, immersing herself in the festivities. Whether it’s youth or enthusiasm or a combination of both, her boundless energy cannot be contained. A remarkable change from the quiet, shy girl she had been when called Minfilia. Thinking back now, perhaps the seeds had always been there—she had merely needed the opportunity to let them grow. There was a time when she would never have dared to go anywhere without him, though it occurs to him now that it may have been out of fear of his reaction rather than any hesitation on her part.

The guilt strikes without warning, a restless, twisting knot at the core of his heart. Some days it’s difficult not to wonder whether he really is all that better than Ran’jit. Aureia once raked him over the coals for his behaviour, which, thinking back, was wholly deserved. She has never been afraid to speak her mind where he is concerned, something which he is grateful for. Somehow she is always the one who can knock sense into him when he needs it the most.

He turns, instinctively searching for her. She winds her way through the tavern with her usual quiet intensity. Her unnaturally pale hair shines in the soft lights, making it easy to pick her out of the crowd. She stops here and there, greeting friends and acquaintances, wishing them well. Even from a distance he can see the way her eyes light up, the content smile on her face, the sheer exuberant joy she embodies. She has been through so much these past few moons—more than he can even begin to understand—but every trial she has faced has only served to make her stronger.

They still haven’t spoken of what happened that day on the blistering hot sands of Amh Araeng. He remembers all too well the look she gave him when he ordered her to take Ryne and leave him behind. She isn’t a fool; she must have felt the parallels, that sense of déjà vu, as clearly as he did—back to a day long ago in the waterways beneath Ul’dah.

He had stubbornly insisted on remaining behind, standing his ground, placing his trust in her to protect Minfilia while they made their escape. It was a situation that left them with too little time and far too much was left unspoken. He should have said something then—gods know he should have—but he did not, and that regret has been a constant companion. She changed in those intervening years, moving on and discovering love in places far from him. What could have been, if he had only swallowed his pride and his hesitation?

The irony isn’t lost on him that, years later, they would find themselves in similar circumstances. On another world, in a reflection of Thanalan, protecting another Minfilia. But Ran’jit gave them no time—no time for confessions, no time for final words. He was prepared to die for them. He very nearly did. Had Urianger and Alphinaud not arrived sooner, he would have passed from this world, happy knowing that they made it in the end, that Minfilia—that Ryne—was safe in Aureia’s hands, that he did all he could to protect them both.

And she would never know.

She would never…

You must tell her. No more doubt. No more hesitation.

Aureia laughs, the warmth of her voice carrying over the buzz of a hundred voices. Her head turns, and, for the briefest of moments, her ruby eyes connect with his. She smiles—a tiny, private smile—and his heart melts. He can’t take his eyes off her.

If you don’t tell her tonight I will throttle you.

“Thou hast been swept away on the tides of idle contemplation for nary a minute.”

Thancred blinks, dragging himself out of his thoughts, and finds Urianger watching him with an amused expression on his face. “Am I not allowed a moment to think?” he says sarcastically.

Urianger gives him an uncharacteristic shrug and nurses his wine. “Nay. ‘Tis an observation of mine that thou dost think too much.”

He sighs and passes his tankard to his other hand. By some miracle he hasn’t indulged in it yet. “I must be getting old. I certainly feel the years these days.”

“Aye. Perchance I have spotted a grey hair or two. Or more.”

“Is that so? And here I was hoping you would tell me otherwise. I suppose it was too much to count on you for emotional support.”

Urianger regards him, a serious look in his eye. “Thou knowest the truth of that, my friend.”

He smiles. “Indeed. I do.”

The conversation stills. He pauses, shifting as he adjusts his position against the wall, and allows his gaze to wander. He lingers on Aureia, captivated by the way she lights up the room, and finally raises the tankard to his lips.

The fresh—and noticeably non-alcoholic—taste of water takes him by surprise. He coughs, startled, and nearly spits it out. Urianger watches him, an amused smile on his face, and raises an eyebrow, daring him to say something.

“You really have no faith in me, do you?” Thancred grumbles.

“Just as our souls have transcended time and space, so too has thine reputation for drink and revelry.”

“But I—”

“Dost thou require a list to refresh the annals of thine memory? I am happy to oblige. Shalt I commence with an illustrious history from the halcyon days of our youth in Sharlayan? Or mayhap I shouldst direct our collective remembrance to thine era of self-proclaimed bardship. I recall thine attempts to woo many a fair maiden through poetry and song, and remain impressed that thine talents ensnared a number greater than one.”

He splutters. “See, now—”

“Quiet though I may have been in both the Waking Sands and the Rising Stones, reclusive I was not. I remember an assortment of drunken conquests with the likes of Ibrella and Ysera, Joyse and Sigberta, Q’thena, R’zhocri—”

“All right, all right! I see your point. You don’t need to badger on. Gods, Ibrella was years ago. I barely remember her, so how do you?”

“Thou shouldst know better than to underestimate that my mind is of a most eidetic nature.”

“Fine. I don’t deny that I may have indulged in certain… habits in the past. I won’t excuse myself for ignoring my troubles by distracting myself with… Well. Let’s not linger on it. But you are wrong on one account. It wasn’t only fair maidens.”

Urianger catches his eye and chuckles, a knowing smile on his lips. He raises his glass, leaving Thancred to stew in his mortification while he savours his drink.

Thancred sets his water aside and folds his arms. Aureia has worked her way across the tavern, edging ever closer to his position. But for every step she takes, two or more celebrators catch her attention and draw her aside, eager to personally congratulate her. She has never enjoyed attention like this, thinking little of the fame her deeds as the Warrior of Light accrued. But Norvrandt is not the Source. There are no adoring devotees begging for an interaction, no hordes of aggressive reporters seeking the latest gossip, no military officers or government leaders making unwanted demands of her.

It is simpler here. More personal. Perhaps because she recognizes the faces in the crowd, she speaks to them as herself—as Aureia—rather than as a legendary Warrior of Darkness.

“I see you have taken it upon yourself as a personal challenge to embarrass me,” he says finally, his gaze still lingering on her. Her smile brightens as she takes the young adventurer boy—Taynor, was his name?—aside, offering quiet words of guidance. She has always had a connection to young mages. Perhaps it’s because she sees something of herself in them; or perhaps it is out of a need to offer them the guidance and support she so sorely lacked in her own childhood. “Is this what wine does to you now?”

“Nay.”

“Nay? That’s it? Nay?”

“Nay.”

Thancred’s eyes narrow. “Who are you and what have you done with Urianger?”

Urianger chuckles. Tilting his head back, he finishes off his glass and sets it on a nearby table. “I simply intended to remind thee that thy priorities lie in a place far different than they once did,” he says gently. “Thou hast grappled with many a dark turn in the past, soothing numbing despair with empty pleasures. I do not envy the journey thou hast partaken since Louisoix’s passing—”

He exhales a faint breath and closes his eyes. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?

“—and I am proud of thee. For all thou hast accomplished. And for what thou wilt in the future.”

There’s a raw lump in his throat and it’s getting harder to ignore. “If you’re concerned about me backsliding, there is little risk of that now,” he says. “Or… I hope there isn’t. As you said yourself, my priorities have changed. For the better. And if you wouldn’t mind, I would prefer if we dropped this train of thought. I would rather not have Aureia—or Ryne, for that matter—overhear this conversation. They certainly don’t need to be exposed to a list of my… er… conquests, as you so delicately put it.”

Urianger raises an eyebrow.

He flushes. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. Aureia knows my history all too well.”

Gods know she does. Though it has been some nine years—for him, at least, the misaligned time between the Source and the First makes his head ache when he thinks about it too much—he can still feel the sharp twist of remorse when he thinks about those long ago moons in Ishgard. How easy it was to indulge in drink and sex to hide from truths he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge. He knew what he was doing when he ended up with Hilda, her closest friend, that night—and many nights afterwards. He knew how it would hurt her.

And, in that moment, he didn’t care.

By rights she should never have forgiven him.

“So, yes. I am certain she remembers how much of a fool I’ve been. How much of one I still am.”

Across the way, Aureia bids goodbye to Taynor and catches his eye. He shifts his weight as he watches her approach, struck by sudden uncertainty as she moves closer with every step. When he considers what to say to her, somehow there are both a thousand things and absolutely nothing.

Desperately searching for some point of conversation, he latches onto something Urianger said earlier. “What did you mean by self-proclaimed bardship earlier?” he says. “You make it sound like I’m some amateur.”

“And thou art not?”

“I—”

“I have yet to see thee touch an instrument or pen and perform a song. Thine aptitude for stealth and espionage is not conducive to such merriment.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! Many people have conflicting aspects to their character. Simply because you have framed yourself as a master of prophecy and not much else doesn’t mean we all should subscribe to a singular facet.”

“I did not say as much. I merely implied that thine current capacity for poetry and song does not harken to the title of bard.”

“You make me sound like the most amateur of amateurs—”

“What’s going on here?”

Aureia draws up before them, dark red eyes passing from Thancred to Urianger and back again. A muscle twitches in her cheek, as if she is holding back a laugh.

“Urianger is of the opinion that I am not a bard,” Thancred says quickly, eyeing his friend.

She blinks and folds her arms, a perplexed expression on her face. “Thancred, I know plenty of bards—”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“You are not one of them.”

His shoulders sag. “It was too much to hope that you would take my side, I suppose,” he says defeatedly and raises his tankard. After all this talk, he’s grateful for the water. Perhaps Urianger was on to something—beyond keeping his worst habits in check, that is.

“Thou art radiant tonight, Aureia,” Urianger says, bowing low as he sweeps her into a gentle hug.

She laughs fondly and rises up on her tiptoes to accommodate his height. “Not intentionally, I assure you,” she says, embracing him tight and kissing him on the cheek. “But thank you.”

“I trust this festivity hast not been too taxing on thee?”

“If it was, you would be among the first to know. I swear, between you and Y’shtola and Alisaie, I can’t so much as stub my toe without one of you telling me to rest.”

He lets her go and steps back, a serious expression on his face. “Our concerns for thy wellbeing are not misplaced,” he presses. “Trials and tribulations take their toll, and not all tolls are easily perceived.”

“And yet there is such a thing as worrying too much,” she counters. “Which, unfortunately, I think we are all very much prone to. You know I know my limits better than anyone. I promise I won’t overextend myself.”

“A promise to which I shall hold thee.”

“Oh? Is this a deal then?”

He smiles, amused. “Mayhap.”

She grins and raises her chin, a challenge in her expression. “If I keep myself in check, I don’t want you wasting valuable time worrying about me when it isn’t necessary,” she says. “But if my stubbornness gets in the way, you are free to tell me off however you choose. You can even teach me more about celestial magic.”

“I would enjoy that greatly. Thine talents are not limited to the arts of black and red magicks, nor the tenebrous arts of the blackened greatsword. Thou hast a natural affinity for healing—”

“I’m not convinced of that yet. But I’m willing to try again.”

Thancred chuckles quietly, the sound muffled by his tankard. He’s more than familiar with this kind of banter between them. Aureia and Urianger’s friendship has always been this way; something more akin to siblings than friends. And he is glad for that. Having met Aureia’s twin, Urianger is more of a brother to her than Kallias ever could be. Thinking on it now, family is not the people who are predetermined for you. They are the ones you choose.

“I see you’ve been keeping him in check,” Aureia continues, nodding at Thancred. “But I may need to steal him for a moment. Would you mind looking in on Ryne for me?”

“Certainly. I wouldst be glad to.”

Giving Thancred a meaningful look, Urianger bids farewell and disappears across the tavern. Aureia watches him go, lost in thought, tugging absently on a loose lock of hair. She so rarely wears it down, deeming it too impractical. But it suits her.

“What?” she says, a curious—and amused—smile on her lips. She must have noticed the way he is staring at her. “Not like you to be this quiet. Something the matter?”

He pauses, tongue-tied. Only that you are so stunning this evening you’ve taken my breath away…

…is something he would have said were he ten years younger. And ten years stupider—not that he can claim that time and age have made him any wiser. But such shallow compliments were once his wheelhouse, spoken with false bravado to anyone who caught his eye. Sometimes it worked. More times it did not.

Though the thought is very much true—she has taken his breath away, she has for a long time now—he can’t bring himself to speak like that to her. To tread the familiar steps of hollow flirtation feels wrong when she’s involved. They’ve been friends for too long. They’ve been through too much, individually and together. Some days he feels he knows her better than he knows himself.

You will find any reason to hesitate, won’t you? Why are you scared of this? Frightened you’ll ruin what you have before it ever truly begins?

“I wasn’t entirely certain if you planned to avoid me all night,” Thancred says finally, keeping his tone light. “You have no shortage of friends and admirers here. Between you and the Exarch, the Crystarium’s people are positively buzzing with excitement.”

She eyes him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Hm… is that disappointment I detect in your voice? A little snubbed you aren’t at the centre of my attention?”

“Gods, Aur, did you really have to put it like that? It sounds like a trick question. If I answer either way, I am going to land myself in trouble.”

“My favourite place for you. You certainly know how to make my life more exciting than it needs to be when you stumble into trouble.”

“Stumble? I have never stumbled once in my life. It is at the very least a walk. Perhaps even a headlong run.”

She snorts, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she tries to contain her laughter. “I think this is getting away from us,” she says. Letting out a long sigh, she draws up beside him and leans her back against the wall. She closes her eyes and stretches her arms high above her head, a content smile on her face. “You know, as glad as I am to have spent time with everyone, I am in desperate need of a little quiet now.”

“I’m not certain if quiet is something you can find, considering the commotion Glynard has on his hands. My ears are ringing from the sound of clinking glasses. And your hunter friends over there certainly know how to cause a ruckus.”

“I didn’t expect Granson to drink, but Giott? Giott is a menace. You two would get along well.”

“Now, see here—”

She opens her eyes and glances at him. “I need a little distance from all the celebration,” she says. “And I would rather share that with you, Than, than be alone.”

Than. The nickname hits him harder than he expected. It’s been a long time since she’s used it.

He raises his tankard and slowly sips at his water. “I am proud of you, you know,” he says after a moment.

“Oh?”

“An Aureia I once knew would have turned her nose up at the attention and loudly mocked her devotees before turning tail and making her escape over the nearest balcony.”

She makes a face. “I really wasn’t that bad, you know.”

“I seem to remember something of the sort nearly happening in Ul’dah. Though perhaps without the balcony. That was an Ishgardian event, was it not? What else did you learn from that dragoon, by the way?”

Aureia chuckles and drops her hands to her sides. “A secret best saved for later,” she says. She eyes his tankard and cocks her head to the side, noting the contents. “I’m proud of you, too.”

He flushes. “Urianger’s doing,” he says, lowering his tankard. “Though perhaps he has the right of it. As tempting as it is to join in the revelry, I need to keep my distance from drink, at least for a little while. I’ve lost myself in it too many times to count. I do not wish to retread those paths. Never again.”

Her expression softens. She rests a hand on his arm, her touch warm and comforting. “Thancred, I—”

“Thancred! Aureia!”

Ryne bursts out of the crowd, waving vigorously to catch their attention. Aureia smiles and waves in return, waiting as she weaves around a knot of excitable dwarves and skids to a stop in front of them. She tucks her hair behind her ears and fiddles with her ribbon. She looks as though she hasn’t stood still for more than a minute.

“What is it?” he asks. “Has something happened?”

She blinks. “Oh, no! Not at all. I am looking for Urianger, have you seen him?”

Thancred and Aureia trade looks.

“Perhaps there has been a bit of a mix up,” she begins quickly. “I just asked him to find you—”

“Entirely possible he got distracted,” he interrupts. “This is Urianger we’re talking about. And there are pixies afoot—”

Ryne giggles and shakes her head. “We simply must have missed each other. But as I am here, might I ask—are you enjoying your evening?”

Thancred’s gaze flickers to Aureia, lingering on her face. If she has noticed the way he stares at her, she keeps it to herself. “Yes,” he says softly. “I daresay I am.”

“You’ve done well, Ryne,” Aureia adds. “Helping with this festival. The decorations, the dances… I’m certain this will be a precious memory for many years to come.”

A flush appears on her cheeks at the praise. She has looked up to Aureia for moons now, ever since their foray into Il Mheg. It’s not that she idolizes her, no—their relationship is far different from the number of young admirers Aureia has accumulated in the Crystarium of late—but it is not that Ryne sees her as a mentor, either. Nor an older sister. More of a…

Oh, you old fool. The word is there on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t seem to voice it. Not even to himself. That would take it a step too far.

“…and I hope to do more!” Ryne continues. “In the future, I mean. Looking around now, seeing everyone’s smiles… I vow to do whatever I can to keep that joy from fading.” She pauses, as if caught off-guard by her own excitement. Tucking one foot behind the other, she chews her lower lip and glances from Thancred to Aureia and back again, hesitant to say her next words.

“All right,” Thancred says, forcing back a smile. “Out with it. What idea do you have?”

“It’s… difficult to describe,” she replies, twisting her fingers together. “I was hoping to discuss it with Urianger first, but… as it’s on my mind, I want to ask you now.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Which is?”

Her fidgeting evaporates in an instant. She raises her chin, her expression settling into grim determination as she meets his eyes. “Tonight marks a change for everyone,” she says. “These celebrations are more than just a festival, they’re hope for the future. A sign that we are rebuilding, one step at a time. But there is more healing to be done. Not just here. But beyond our borders. A land blighted by light.”

He exchanges looks with Aureia. Judging from her expression, she must be thinking the same thing—there’s only one place Ryne could mean.

“Once we would have said the Empty is beyond saving,” she continues grimly. “That everything lost in the Flood is beyond us forever. But I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

This is exactly the kind of thing that would only occur to Ryne. He pauses, biting his tongue as his desire to hear her out fights with his instinct to be pragmatic. The last thing she needs is to hear him dissuade her.

“And you think it’s possible to restore it?” Aureia asks gently.

Thank the gods. He turns to her, giving her a small, grateful smile. He likely would have put his foot in his mouth if she wasn’t here.

“I don’t know,” Ryne replies. Though her voice is quiet, her confidence has not wavered. “But there’s something there, I think… Calling to me. Perhaps it’s my imagination, perhaps not, but I need to go there and see for myself. And if there’s a chance I can find a way to return the Empty to what it once was—even only a little bit—I have to try. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that returning the night sky seemed impossible and look what we have now.”

“I see you have given this a lot of thought,” he says. “And I by no means intend to dissuade you, Ryne, truly. But have you considered the full extent of what it is you intend to do? The Empty is no place for a casual sojourn. Its aether is in stasis, it is completely devoid of life—”

“I know what I’m proposing, Thancred. I know it will be difficult. I know it may be fruitless. But if there’s anything I’ve learned in these past few moons, it’s that someone has to have hope—have faith—that we do not have to settle for the hand we’ve been dealt. Otherwise nothing will ever change. And it certainly won’t if we never try. You taught me that. You both did.”

Silence settles between them. Whether she intended to or not, Ryne has voiced something a truth they have all known, yet have been dancing around for moons. They are connected—him, Ryne, and Aureia—bound together in a way the others are not.

“This is what my heart tells me to do,” Ryne says finally. “And I must see it through. I have to.”

Aureia catches Thancred’s eye and rests a hand on his forearm. “Then we’ll be there for you,” she answers, speaking for the pair of them. “If you are certain this is the path you wish to pursue, then we will help you on it.”

Ryne nods and presses her knuckles to her lips, a smile hidden behind her fingers. Her eyes brim with tears—or is that a trick of the lanternlight? “Thank you!” she breathes. “Oh, thank you. I was worried… I thought… But of course…” She stumbles over her words and cuts herself short, shaking her head as if she still can’t believe her ears. “I’m sorry, this is something we can talk about another time. And I interrupted you earlier—”

Thancred chuckles. “Not something you need to apologize for Ryne,” he says. “I, for one, am glad that you found time for a tired old man too stubborn to be anything but a cranky wallflower.”

She gives him a look. “You’re not that old.”

“Now, see here, when you put it like that—”

“She’s right,” Aureia adds. “You’re the only one who calls yourself old.”

He splutters. “I don’t—”

“We’re practically the same age—”

“Not any more, we aren’t. Did you conveniently forget that five years—”

“Still not old. I swear, Hilda made one comment in passing regarding your appearance years ago and you took such a hit to your ego you’ve blown it out of proportion ever since—”

Ryne giggles and presses a hand to her mouth, stifling her laughter. She looks back and forth between the pair of them, delight shining in her eyes. “I think you two have a lot to talk about,” she says. “I’m going to find Urianger. Hopefully he hasn’t been waylaid by pixies again.”

Unable to contain her grin, she raises a hand in farewell and darts through the crowd, becoming little more than a blur of red hair and pastel blue. Thancred sighs wistfully as she disappears and tilts his head back, resting it against the wall.

“Where does she get the energy…?” he murmurs.

“Probably on account of being a teenaged girl,” Aureia answers. She nudges him in the side and cocks her head towards a nearby table, recently vacated. He nods and follows; they could both use a moment to sit down.

He takes the closest stool and places his half-empty tankard on the table, shifting it idly from hand to hand. “Five years is a longer time than you give it credit,” he says soberly as she flops into the chair beside him.

She lets out a long sigh as she slouches down in her seat, comfortably folding her arms across her chest. All effort to keep up appearances as the sophisticated, elegant Warrior of Darkness has disappeared. Here, alone in their quiet corner of the tavern, she is just Aureia.

Just Aur.

“I know,” she says quietly. Her knee bumps against his and he tenses at the unintentional touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so flippant. No matter how many times it’s explained to me, this difference in time makes my head spin. That a difference of a single month would be…”

She trails off, chewing on her lower lip, hesitant to get her next words out. “It’s silly, perhaps.” A pause. A breath. He has never seen her quite this nervous before. “But I think I am struggling with this reality more than I would like to admit. It wasn’t that long ago that we were in Ala Mhigo. We made promises, then, Thancred. Promises that never…”

Aureia meets his eyes. The look they share only reinforces that he knows all too well what she is speaking of. He has relived the night before that fateful Alliance conference more times than he can count. A night spent on the rooftops of a silent city as an escape from a world on the brink of disaster.

She was so close to her breaking point. Regarded as little more than the Alliance’s figurehead while bearing the responsibility of Eorzea’s future square on her shoulders. Then the whole mess with her brother happened, her history as an Imperial agent was outed, and those she had called friends for years treated her with suspicion and distrust, verging on outright hostility in some cases. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn had never felt more disparate or divided, even as the demands placed on them mounted higher and higher.

He had to reach out to her then. He was compelled to. Regardless of how much some saw her secrets as a betrayal, he had to stand by her. They spoke of everything and nothing that night, lingering on that rooftop until the grey light of dawn crept across the horizon. He might have told her he loved her then, if he were a different person and less of a fool.

But the thought hadn’t occurred to him until later. And by then it was horrifically too late.

“I remember,” he says finally. “You—despite my reservations—made me promise to fly with you on the backs of one of those creatures some day.”

Her eyes narrow. “The yols are beautiful and are not as terrifying as you seem to think they are—”

“I will be the judge of that.”

“So, you’re still holding your end of the bargain?”

“I made you a promise, did I not? I intend to keep it. No matter how long it takes.”

There’s a determination in his tone that runs deeper than mere stubbornness. She blinks, a strange look crossing her face, and places her hands on the table. Her fingers twists together, toying with the black and silver ring on her index finger. A gift Nanamo had given her all those years ago in Ul’dah. Lost once, when she pawned it in Ishgard.

It feels like serendipity that he even found it—and delivered it back to her.

“I have a foolish question,” Aureia says after a moment.

He chuckles. “You? Foolish? Never.”

She makes a face. “I’m not sure you’ll be so quick to say that again after I say my piece. But this hasn’t been easy, you know. Accepting that our lives have moved at radically different paces.” She hesitates again, teetering on the edge. “I was angry with you for a while. Because it hurt—admitting that while I spent a month trying to bring you back, you were here, moving on. And so my question—my foolish, foolish question—is did you think of me at all in those intervening years?”

The tentativeness in her voice makes his heart ache. He has never seen her quite so vulnerable—at least, not like this.

“I never forgot,” Thancred says quietly. “But I would be a liar if I said there weren’t days when I put you purposefully from my mind. The harsh and simple reality was that we could not leave this shard, just as we could not know whether you would ever find you way to it. Certainly not with the Exarch’s propensity for trial and error. Staking my hopes on that alone… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

He flushes and looks away. There’s an unspoken part of this truth that he isn’t fully prepared to discuss. When he discovered he was stranded on then world Minfilia gave her life to save, it was so easy to pretend that nothing else mattered save for pursuing her and her legacy. Or what he was so desperate to consider her legacy.

“Half a decade,” Aureia says gently. “It’s a long time for anyone. Things change.”

His knee brushes hers. She doesn’t move away.

“Not everything,” he replies. “But it was easier that way, Aur. I’m not always pragmatic where you are concerned.”

He meets her eyes and something in his heart twists. Her hair has a soft, incandescent glow in the lanternlight—a pale echo of a night not that long ago when she was kneeling on the floor of her apartment, wracked with pain and bleeding light. He can still feel the helplessness of that moment, his inability to stop the powers devastating her body, mind, and soul. The untempered rage at that damn Ascian and his machinations. He very well may have been on the cusp of doing something stupid had Ryne not held him back.

And just what do you intend to do, Thancred? Do you even have a plan? Do you honestly think Aureia will thank you if you get yourself killed on her behalf?

Furious with his recklessness and overwhelmed with concern for Aureia’s condition, Ryne yelled herself hoarse that night. She stormed from their apartment, taking refuge with Urianger and refused to say anything else to him, let alone listen to his apology. It was only later that she admitted how terrified she was. The thought of losing two people who had come to mean the world to her was more than she could bear.

Aureia nudges his tankard out of the way and gently slips her hand into his. Her touch is warm, comforting in its familiarity. He squeezes back and his thumb brushes her wrist, sensing her steady, even pulse. It’s difficult to look away from her as she gazes out across the tavern and takes in the festivities, that quiet joy radiating from her soft smile. He has never been more grateful for her than tonight.

“Ryne wanted to know everything about you,” Thancred says. “Long before she even met you in person.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Urianger is at fault, of course—”

She presses her lips together, holding back a laugh. “Of course—”

“I wasn’t entirely generous with my history when I rescued her from Eulmore. I was determined not to be. As if recounting those moments, however briefly, only exacerbated the circumstances at hand. But as the others followed and she met them each in turn, she had questions. Questions I was hesitant to answer, but Urianger was more than happy to oblige. Eager, even. He chastised me thoroughly once for once for keeping my cards close to my chest. That if Ryne was to be my ward, then it was undeserving to keep her in the dark. No matter how painful revisiting the past could be.”

Her grip on his hand tightens and her gaze flicks back to him. The warmth in her ruby eyes does not come merely from the tavern lights.

“Not that I cared to listen much at the time,” he continues. “But once the floodgates were open, there was no stopping it. His tales sparked something in her, and she was eager to know more, particularly about a certain mutual friend of ours. Under pain of further admonishment, I told her what I could.”

“Nothing unfavourable, I trust,” she says drolly.

“Who do you take me for, Aur?”

“An idiot, if I’m being honest. Next question?”

“…stumbled right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Her eyes sparkle with fondness. “You did.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Regardless, she had questions about you and answer them I did. And the more I spoke of you, the more I…”

An unexpected lump forms in his throat and he trails off. Aureia pauses, watching him closely. She could press him to continue, but instead she shifts closer and rests her head against his shoulder. The words left unspoken do not need to be voiced. At least, not to her.

Exhaling softly, she closes her eyes and leans into him. “Thancred,” she murmurs.

“Hm?”

She hesitates, chewing her lower lip—as if she is on the cusp of asking him something, but can’t find the words. . “I… never mind. I can’t explain it.”

He nods and presses a kiss to her forehead. Whatever it is, he knows she will say it when she’s ready.

Wrapping an arm around her, he holds her close and together they take a moment to enjoy the quiet. Though the festivities continue on, the noise and the revelry feel distant somehow. In this moment, it is just the two of them. He can’t deny the comfort of her presence—how right it feels to be with her now, how she makes his heart ache with joy. He never wants to lose her again.

It’s strange how far they’ve come. She was a just a stranger to him, once—an unusual mage with a peculiar susceptibility to aether, wildly out of place in Ul’dah, defensive and mistrustful of everyone around her. He could never have anticipated what she would come to mean to him.

“Aur,” he says quietly. “Do you ever think back to that day beneath the Sultantree?”

She smiles, eyes still closed. “I hit you with my staff.”

“…yes. I recall that. Vividly.”

“I suppose one could say I was determined to knock sense into you from the very beginning.”

He chuckles, but it does not last. “There’s something you should know about that day. Something I’ve kept secret for a very long time.”

She lifts her head off his shoulder and fixes him with a pointed look. “Oh?”

“It wasn’t the first time I saw you. I picked you out of the crowd several days before—”

“I know.”

“—took to tracking you across the city—”

“I know.”

“You—what?”

“If it were anyone else, perhaps would you have gotten away with it,” she says, resting a hand affectionately against his cheek. “Unfortunately for you, you marked a Garlean defector who was very much at the end of her rope and counting down the days before she was arrested and exposed. Or hunted down and killed by agents loyal to the Empire. I knew you were following me. What I didn’t know was that it was for completely different reasons than I assumed at the time.”

He blinks and shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Well, now… what do you know. All these years and you always knew the truth of it. I suppose my greatest secret wasn’t so secret after all.”

“Mhm. It’s quite funny to me that it has taken you nearly a decade to admit it, you know.”

“It may take me some time and I am often more of a hindrance to myself than anything else, but I do eventually reach my intended destination.”

She hums with quiet laughter and toys with his hand, threading their fingers together. “Since we’re admitting truths tonight, I have one for you,” she says, returning her head to his shoulder. “Minfilia and Ryne aren’t the only ones dear to you to whom you gifted a name. You did that for me, too.”

He stiffens. “I… Aur…”

“There. That’s it.”

He glances down and finds her staring at him, eyes brimming with tears.

“Aureia was a name I took by chance. Not because I wanted it, but because I needed it. An alias intended for Ul’dah alone, one I intended to relinquish the moment I could escape the city. But then you called me Aur and it… stuck.” She hesitates, her voice breaking. “I don’t know why it felt right, but it did. You gave me a name, Thancred, without even realizing that that was what you were doing. And I…”

His grip on her tightens and he pulls her into him, engulfed by something even he cannot put into words. She curls up against him and he cradles her gently, tucking his chin above her head. He wasn’t sure what he had intended by bringing up old memories, but her revelation has shaken him. All this time and he hadn’t known the significance of that simple change to her name.

Gods, how much he loves her. Perhaps a part of him always has.

Hesitant to disrupt this moment—not with her in his arms—he allows his gaze to wander across the tavern. Somehow he always loses track of him when talking to Aureia; it must be getting late now. Though the Wandering Stairs still bustles with activity, the crowds have thinned out. Even so, he is struck by the desire to move somewhere more private. He is far from ready to part from her company, but the more he thinks about it, the less he wishes to remain in the tavern.

“Looks like they found each other,” Aureia murmurs quietly.

He follows her gaze. A little ways away, Urianger sits on a bench, absorbed in thought. Ryne rests beside him, her legs tucked beneath her, her head lolling on his shoulder.

“She must be exhausted.”

“I daresay she is. She took much of the responsibility for the festivities, after all.”

Her quiet laughter resonates against his chest. “Is that a note of pride I hear in your voice?” she teases.

“Of course,” he replies. “She put her heart and soul into this.”

They fall silent for a moment—as if they both are too hesitant to move and break this moment for good. But as much as he would like to stay here with her, he has other responsibilities. He glances down and catches her eye. She nods and disentangles her hand from his, and together they rise to their feet and pick their way across the tavern.

Urianger smiles fondly as they approach. He is frozen in place, an arm resting protectively around Ryne. It’s as if he does not wish to move lest he wake her. “Twilight has long since descended upon us, my friends,” he says. “Though I suspect, for some, there is much merrymaking yet to be done.”

“The thought had occurred to me, yes,” Thancred replies. He rests a hand on Ryne’s shoulder. “Ryne. Come now. Time to head home.”

She stirs, a lock of red hair falling across her forehead, and mumbles quietly in her sleep. Her eyes remain shut, her expression peacefully content. For perhaps the first time in her life she is sleeping soundly. With a long sigh, he stoops and gently picks her up. Though she is barely seventeen summers now, it still takes him by surprise how delicate she is. It is easy to underestimate her—a mistake anyone would be unfortunate to make. Gods know he’s done that enough.

Urianger is eyeing him, a strange smile on his lips.

“Not one word about this,” he says quickly.

“Not a one. Of course.”

“Promise me that.”

“Wouldst thou expect anything less of me?”

“If you don’t, just you’re responsible for me getting an earful or carrying her to bed like a child. I may not survive.” Thancred adjusts his grip on Ryne and glances over his shoulder at Aureia. “Come with me, yes?”

The request comes naturally and immediately—spoken before he has time to think about it. She pauses, an answer on the tip of her tongue, and time stretches out in her silence. His heart clenches, fearing her imminent refusal. Of course she can say no. There’s still so much left unsaid between them. There’s no sense in rushing this unnamed, unknowable thing they have.

She glances at Ryne, fast asleep in his arms, and her features soften. Stepping towards them, she rests a hand against his shoulder in a quiet touch and meets his eyes. “Lead the way,” she says.

He smiles.

Bidding goodnight to Urianger—and trying very hard to ignore the funny expression on his friend’s face—Thancred descends the steps into the Quadrivium, Aureia at his side. Together they make their way across the lawns towards the Pendants and out of sight.

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #wolcred #ffxiv wol #thancred waters #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #the only reason this chapter is this ridiculously long is because of thancred and urianger's banter :)

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vaguelyhumanshapedbeing · 9 months

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Fun fact! There is nothing stopping you from posting the entirety of Shakespeare plays on Tumblr.com!

Exhibit 1 — The Comedy of Errors:

ACT 1

Scene 1

Enter ⌜Solinus⌝ the Duke of Ephesus, with ⌜Egeon⌝ the Merchant of Syracuse, Jailer, and other Attendants.

EGEON 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. 5 The enmity and discord which of late Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives, Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their bloods, 10 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 Syracusians and ourselves, 15 To admit no traffic to our adverse towns. Nay, more, if any born at Ephesus Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs; Again, if any Syracusian born Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, 20 His goods confiscate to the Duke’s dispose,

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Unless a thousand marks be levièd To quit the penalty and to ransom him. Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; 25 Therefore by law thou art condemned to die. EGEON Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun. DUKE Well, Syracusian, say in brief the cause Why thou departedst from thy native home 30 And for what cause thou cam’st to Ephesus. EGEON A heavier task could not have been imposed Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable; Yet, that the world may witness that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offense, 35 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, had not our hap been bad. With her I lived in joy. Our wealth increased 40 By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamium, till my factor’s death And ⌜the⌝ great care of goods at random left Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse; From whom my absence was not six months old 45 Before herself—almost at fainting under The pleasing punishment that women bear— Had made provision for her following me And soon and safe arrivèd where I was. There had she not been long but she became 50 A joyful mother of two goodly sons, And, which was strange, the one so like the other As could not be distinguished but by names.

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That very hour, and in the selfsame inn, A mean woman was deliverèd 55 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. 60 Unwilling, I agreed. Alas, too soon We came aboard. A league from Epidamium had we sailed Before the always-wind-obeying deep Gave any tragic instance of our harm; 65 But longer did we not retain much hope, For what obscurèd light the heavens did grant Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death, Which though myself would gladly have embraced, 70 Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before for what she saw must come, And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, That mourned for fashion, ignorant what to fear, Forced me to seek delays for them and me. 75 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 fastened him unto a small spare mast, 80 Such as seafaring 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 disposed, my wife and I, Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixed, 85 Fastened ourselves at either end the mast And, floating straight, obedient to the stream, Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.

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At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, Dispersed those vapors that offended us, 90 And by the benefit of his wished light The seas waxed calm, and we discoverèd Two ships from far, making amain to us, Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this. But ere they came—O, let me say no more! 95 Gather the sequel by that went before. DUKE Nay, forward, old man. Do not break off so, For we may pity though not pardon thee. EGEON O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily termed them merciless to us. 100 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, We were encountered 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, 105 Fortune had left to both of us alike What to delight in, what to sorrow for. Her part, poor soul, seeming as burdenèd With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the wind, 110 And in our sight they three were taken up By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. At length, another ship had seized on us And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, Gave healthful welcome to their shipwracked guests, 115 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 severed from my bliss, That by misfortunes was my life prolonged 120 To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

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DUKE And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favor to dilate at full What have befall’n of them and ⌜thee⌝ till now. EGEON My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, 125 At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother, and importuned me That his attendant—so his case was like, Reft of his brother, but retained his name— Might bear him company in the quest of him, 130 Whom whilst I labored of a love to see, I hazarded the loss of whom I loved. Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus, 135 Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought Or that or any place that harbors 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 140 Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have marked 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, 145 My soul should sue as advocate for thee. But though thou art adjudgèd to the death, And passèd sentence may not be recalled But to our honor’s great disparagement, Yet will I favor thee in what I can. 150 Therefore, merchant, I’ll limit thee this day To seek thy ⌜life⌝ by beneficial help. Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,

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And live. If no, then thou art doomed to die.— 155 Jailer, take him to thy custody. JAILER I will, my lord. EGEON Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. They exit.

⌜Scene 2⌝

Enter Antipholus ⌜of Syracuse, First⌝ Merchant, and Dromio ⌜of Syracuse.⌝

⌜FIRST⌝ MERCHANT Therefore give out you are of Epidamium, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day a Syracusian merchant Is apprehended for arrival here 5 And, not being able to buy out his life, According to the statute of the town Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. There is your money that I had to keep. ⌜He gives money.⌝ ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE, handing money to Dromio⌝ Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, 10 And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinnertime. 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, 15 For with long travel I am stiff and weary. Get thee away. DROMIO ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Many a man would take you at your word And go indeed, having so good a mean. Dromio ⌜of Syracuse⌝ exits.

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ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, 20 When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humor with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town And then go to my inn and dine with me? ⌜FIRST⌝ MERCHANT I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, 25 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 afterward consort you till bedtime. My present business calls me from you now. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 30 Farewell till then. I will go lose myself And wander up and down to view the city. ⌜FIRST⌝ MERCHANT Sir, I commend you to your own content.⌜He exits.⌝ ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 35 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, 40 In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanac of my true date.— What now? How chance thou art returned so soon? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Returned so soon? Rather approached too late! The capon burns; the pig falls from the spit; 45 The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; My mistress made it one upon my cheek.

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She is so hot because the meat is cold; The meat is cold because you come not home; You come not home because you have no stomach; 50 You have no stomach, having broke your fast. But we that know what ’tis to fast and pray Are penitent for your default today. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this, I pray: Where have you left the money that I gave you? DROMIO OF EPHESUS 55 O, sixpence that I had o’ Wednesday last To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper? The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ I am not in a sportive humor now. Tell me, and dally not: where is the money? 60 We being strangers here, how dar’st thou trust So great a charge from thine own custody? DROMIO OF EPHESUS I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner. I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed, 65 For she will scour your fault upon my pate. Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your ⌜clock,⌝ And strike you home without a messenger. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season. 70 Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? DROMIO OF EPHESUS To me, sir? Why, you gave no gold to me! ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge.

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DROMIO OF EPHESUS 75 My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner. My mistress and her sister stays for you. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Now, as I am a Christian, answer me In what safe place you have bestowed my money, 80 Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours That stands on tricks when I am undisposed. Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? DROMIO OF EPHESUS I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders, 85 But not a thousand marks between you both. If I should pay your Worship those again, Perchance you will not bear them patiently. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Thy mistress’ marks? What mistress, slave, hast thou? DROMIO OF EPHESUS 90 Your Worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phoenix, She that doth fast till you come home to dinner And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE, beating Dromio⌝ What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 95 What mean you, sir? For God’s sake, hold your hands. Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels. Dromio ⌜of⌝ Ephesus exits. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Upon my life, by some device or other The villain is ⌜o’erraught⌝ of all my money. 100 They say this town is full of cozenage, As nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,

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Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, Soul-killing witches that deform the body, Disguisèd cheaters, prating mountebanks, 105 And many suchlike liberties of sin. If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. I’ll to the Centaur to go seek this slave. I greatly fear my money is not safe. He exits.

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ACT 2

⌜Scene 1⌝

Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholus ⌜of Ephesus,⌝ with Luciana, her sister.

ADRIANA Neither my husband nor the slave returned That in such haste I sent to seek his master? Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock. LUCIANA Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, 5 And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine, and never fret. A man is master of his liberty; Time is their master, and when they see time They’ll go or come. If so, be patient, sister. ADRIANA 10 Why should their liberty than ours be more? LUCIANA Because their business still lies out o’ door. ADRIANA Look when I serve him so, he takes it ⌜ill.⌝ LUCIANA O, know he is the bridle of your will. ADRIANA There’s none but asses will be bridled so. LUCIANA 15 Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.

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There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky. The beasts, the fishes, and the wingèd fowls Are their males’ subjects and at their controls. 20 Man, more divine, the master of all these, Lord of the wide world and wild wat’ry seas, Endued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more preeminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords. 25 Then let your will attend on their accords. ADRIANA This servitude makes you to keep unwed. LUCIANA Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed. ADRIANA But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. LUCIANA Ere I learn love, I’ll practice to obey. ADRIANA 30 How if your husband start some otherwhere? LUCIANA Till he come home again, I would forbear. ADRIANA Patience unmoved! No marvel though she pause; They can be meek that have no other cause. A wretched soul bruised with adversity 35 We bid be quiet when we hear it cry, But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain. So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience would relieve me; 40 But if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begged patience in thee will be left. LUCIANA Well, I will marry one day, but to try. Here comes your man. Now is your husband nigh.

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Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Ephesus.

ADRIANA Say, is your tardy master now at hand? DROMIO OF EPHESUS 45Nay, he’s at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness. ADRIANA Say, didst thou speak with him? Know’st thou his mind? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear. 50 Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. LUCIANA Spake he so doubtfully thou couldst not feel his meaning? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows, and withal so doubtfully 55 that I could scarce understand them. ADRIANA But say, I prithee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Why, mistress, sure my master is horn mad. ADRIANA Horn mad, thou villain? DROMIO OF EPHESUS 60 I mean not cuckold mad, But sure he is stark mad. When I desired him to come home to dinner, He asked me for a ⌜thousand⌝ marks in gold. “’Tis dinnertime,” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he. 65 “Your meat doth burn,” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he. “Will you come?” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he. “Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?” “The pig,” quoth I, “is burned.” “My gold,” quoth 70 he.

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“My mistress, sir,” quoth I. “Hang up thy mistress! I know not thy mistress. Out on thy mistress!” LUCIANA Quoth who? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Quoth my master. 75 “I know,” quoth he, “no house, no wife, no mistress.” So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders, For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. ADRIANA 80 Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Go back again and be new beaten home? For God’s sake, send some other messenger. ADRIANA Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. DROMIO OF EPHESUS And he will bless that cross with other beating. 85 Between you, I shall have a holy head. ADRIANA Hence, prating peasant. Fetch thy master home. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Am I so round with you as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither. 90 If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. ⌜He exits.⌝ LUCIANA Fie, how impatience loureth in your face. ADRIANA His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age th’ alluring beauty took 95 From my poor cheek? Then he hath wasted it. Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marred,

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Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his affections bait? 100 That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state. What ruins are in me that can be found By him not ruined? Then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayèd fair A sunny look of his would soon repair. 105 But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale And feeds from home. Poor I am but his stale. LUCIANA Self-harming jealousy, fie, beat it hence. ADRIANA Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, 110 Or else what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promised me a chain. Would that alone o’ love he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed. I see the jewel best enamelèd 115 Will lose his beauty. Yet the gold bides still That others touch, and often touching will ⌜Wear⌝ gold; ⌜yet⌝ no man that hath a name By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, 120 I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die. LUCIANA How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! ⌜They⌝ exit.

⌜Scene 2⌝

Enter Antipholus ⌜of Syracuse.⌝

ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur, and the heedful slave

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Is wandered forth in care to seek me out. By computation and mine host’s report, 5 I could not speak with Dromio since at first I sent him from the mart. See, here he comes.

Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Syracuse.

How now, sir? Is your merry humor altered? As you love strokes, so jest with me again. You know no Centaur? You received no gold? 10 Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad, That thus so madly thou didst answer me? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE What answer, sir? When spake I such a word? ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Even now, even here, not half an hour since. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 15 I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur with the gold you gave me. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Villain, thou didst deny the gold’s receipt And told’st me of a mistress and a dinner, For which I hope thou felt’st I was displeased. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 20 I am glad to see you in this merry vein. What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me? ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think’st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that and that. Beats Dromio. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Hold, sir, for God’s sake! Now your jest is earnest. 25 Upon what bargain do you give it me? ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool and chat with you,

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Your sauciness will jest upon my love And make a common of my serious hours. 30 When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies when he hides his beams. If you will jest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanor to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 35“Sconce” call you it? So you would leave battering, I had rather have it a “head.” An you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head and ensconce it too, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But I pray, sir, 40 why am I beaten? ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Dost thou not know? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Shall I tell you why? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 45Ay, sir, and wherefore, for they say every why hath a wherefore. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ “Why” first: for flouting me; and then “wherefore”: for urging it the second time to me. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 50 Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season, When in the “why” and the “wherefore” is neither rhyme nor reason? Well, sir, I thank you. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Thank me, sir, for what? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 55Marry, sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ I’ll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinnertime? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 60No, sir, I think the meat wants that I have.

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ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ In good time, sir, what’s that? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Basting. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 65Well, sir, then ’twill be dry. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Your reason? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Lest it make you choleric and 70 purchase me another dry basting. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Well, sir, learn to jest in good time. There’s a time for all things. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I durst have denied that before you were so choleric. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 75By what rule, sir? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of Father Time himself. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Let’s hear it. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE There’s no time for a man to 80 recover his hair that grows bald by nature. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ May he not do it by fine and recovery? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 85Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted ⌜men⌝ in hair, he hath given them in wit. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 90Why, but there’s many a man hath more hair than wit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Why, thou didst conclude 95 hairy men plain dealers without wit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE The plainer dealer, the sooner lost. Yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity.

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ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ For what reason? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE For two, and sound ones too. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 100Nay, not sound, I pray you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Sure ones, then. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Certain ones, then. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 105Name them. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE The one, to save the money that he spends in ⌜tiring;⌝ the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ You would all this time 110 have proved there is no time for all things. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, and did, sir: namely, e’en no time to recover hair lost by nature. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ But your reason was not substantial why there is no time to recover. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 115Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald and therefore, to the world’s end, will have bald followers. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ I knew ’twould be a bald conclusion. But soft, who wafts us yonder?

Enter Adriana, ⌜beckoning them,⌝ and Luciana.

ADRIANA 120 Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown. Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects. I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once when thou unurged wouldst vow That never words were music to thine ear, 125 That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-savored in thy taste, Unless I spake, or looked, or touched, or carved to thee. 130 How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it

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That thou art then estrangèd from thyself? “Thyself” I call it, being strange to me, That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear self’s better part. 135 Ah, do not tear away thyself from me! For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulf, And take unmingled thence that drop again Without addition or diminishing, 140 As take from me thyself and not me too. How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious And that this body, consecrate to thee, By ruffian lust should be contaminate! 145 Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me, And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stained skin off my harlot brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? 150 I know thou canst, and therefore see thou do it. I am possessed with an adulterate blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust; For if we two be one, and thou play false, I do digest the poison of thy flesh, 155 Being strumpeted by thy contagion. Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed, I live distained, thou undishonorèd. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not. In Ephesus I am but two hours old, 160 As strange unto your town as to your talk, Who, every word by all my wit being scanned, Wants wit in all one word to understand. LUCIANA Fie, brother, how the world is changed with you!

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When were you wont to use my sister thus? 165 She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ By Dromio? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE By me? ADRIANA By thee; and this thou didst return from him: That he did buffet thee and, in his blows, 170 Denied my house for his, me for his wife. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman? What is the course and drift of your compact? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I, sir? I never saw her till this time. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ Villain, thou liest, for even her very words 175 Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I never spake with her in all my life. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ How can she thus then call us by our names— Unless it be by inspiration? ADRIANA How ill agrees it with your gravity 180 To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood. Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine. ⌜She takes his arm.⌝ 185 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy ⌜stronger⌝ state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate. If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss, 190 Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.

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ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE, aside⌝ To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme. What, was I married to her in my dream? Or sleep I now and think I hear all this? 195 What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? Until I know this sure uncertainty I’ll entertain the ⌜offered⌝ fallacy. LUCIANA Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner. ⌜He crosses himself.⌝ 200 This is the fairy land. O spite of spites! We talk with goblins, owls, and sprites. If we obey them not, this will ensue: They’ll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. LUCIANA Why prat’st thou to thyself and answer’st not? 205 Dromio—thou, Dromio—thou snail, thou slug, thou sot. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am transformèd, master, am I not? ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ I think thou art in mind, and so am I. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 210 Thou hast thine own form. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, I am an ape. LUCIANA If thou art changed to aught, ’tis to an ass. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE ’Tis true. She rides me, and I long for grass. ’Tis so. I am an ass; else it could never be 215 But I should know her as well as she knows me.

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ADRIANA Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep Whilst man and master laughs my woes to scorn. Come, sir, to dinner.—Dromio, keep the gate.— 220 Husband, I’ll dine above with you today, And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks. ⌜To Dromio.⌝ Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter.— Come, sister.—Dromio, play the porter well. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE, aside⌝ 225 Am I in Earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping or waking, mad or well-advised? Known unto these, and to myself disguised! I’ll say as they say, and persever so, And in this mist at all adventures go. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 230 Master, shall I be porter at the gate? ADRIANA Ay, and let none enter, lest I break your pate. LUCIANA Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. ⌜They exit.⌝

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ACT 3

Scene 1

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the goldsmith, and Balthasar the merchant.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours. Say that I lingered with you at your shop To see the making of her carcanet, 5 And that tomorrow you will bring it home. But here’s a villain that would face me down He met me on the mart, and that I beat him And charged him with a thousand marks in gold, And that I did deny my wife and house.— 10 Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know. That you beat me at the mart I have your hand to show; If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave 15 were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I think thou art an ass. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear.

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20 I should kick being kicked and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels and beware of an ass. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You’re sad, Signior Balthasar. Pray God our cheer May answer my goodwill and your good welcome here. BALTHASAR 25 I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS O Signior Balthasar, either at flesh or fish A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. BALTHASAR 30 Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS And welcome more common, for that’s nothing but words. BALTHASAR Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 35 Ay, to a niggardly host and more sparing guest. But though my cates be mean, take them in good part. Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.⌜He attempts to open the door.⌝ 40 But soft! My door is locked. ⌜To Dromio.⌝ Go, bid them let us in. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Maud, Bridget, Marian, Ciceley, Gillian, Ginn! DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! Either get thee from the door or sit down at the 45 hatch.

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Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call’st for such store When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 50 What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on ’s feet. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Who talks within there? Ho, open the door. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ 55 Right, sir, I’ll tell you when an you’ll tell me wherefore. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Wherefore? For my dinner. I have not dined today. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ Nor today here you must not. Come again when you may. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 60 What art thou that keep’st me out from the house I owe? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio. DROMIO OF EPHESUS O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my 65 name! The one ne’er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou hadst been Dromio today in my place, Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or 70 thy name for an ass.

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Enter Luce ⌜above, unseen by Antipholus of Ephesus and his company.⌝

LUCE What a coil is there, Dromio! Who are those at the gate? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Let my master in, Luce. LUCE Faith, no, he comes too late, 75 And so tell your master. DROMIO OF EPHESUS O Lord, I must laugh. Have at you with a proverb: shall I set in my staff? LUCE Have at you with another: that’s—When, can you tell? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ 80 If thy name be called “Luce,” Luce, thou hast answered him well. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Luce⌝ Do you hear, you minion? You’ll let us in, I hope? LUCE I thought to have asked you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ And you said no. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 85 So, come help. Well struck! There was blow for blow. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Luce⌝ Thou baggage, let me in. LUCE Can you tell for whose sake? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Master, knock the door hard. LUCE 90 Let him knock till it ache. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You’ll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down. ⌜He beats on the door.⌝

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LUCE What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town?

Enter Adriana, ⌜above, unseen by Antipholus of Ephesus and his company.⌝

ADRIANA Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ 95 By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Are you there, wife? You might have come before. ADRIANA Your wife, sir knave? Go, get you from the door. ⌜Adriana and Luce exit.⌝ DROMIO OF EPHESUS If you went in pain, master, this knave would go 100 sore. ANGELO, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome. We would fain have either. BALTHASAR In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 105 They stand at the door, master. Bid them welcome hither. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. DROMIO OF EPHESUS You would say so, master, if your garments were 110 thin. Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold.

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It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought and sold. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 115 Go, fetch me something. I’ll break ope the gate. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ Break any breaking here, and I’ll break your knave’s pate. DROMIO OF EPHESUS A man may break a word with ⌜you,⌝ sir, and words are but wind, 120 Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ It seems thou want’st breaking. Out upon thee, hind! DROMIO OF EPHESUS Here’s too much “Out upon thee!” I pray thee, let me in. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜within⌝ 125 Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Dromio of Ephesus⌝ Well, I’ll break in. Go, borrow me a crow. DROMIO OF EPHESUS A crow without feather? Master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a 130 feather.— If a crow help us in, sirrah, we’ll pluck a crow together. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Go, get thee gone. Fetch me an iron crow. BALTHASAR Have patience, sir. O, let it not be so. 135 Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect Th’ unviolated honor of your wife. Once this: your long experience of ⌜her⌝ wisdom,

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Her sober virtue, years, and modesty 140 Plead on ⌜her⌝ part some cause to you unknown. And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you. Be ruled by me; depart in patience, And let us to the Tiger all to dinner, 145 And about evening come yourself alone To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it; 150 And that supposèd by the common rout Against your yet ungallèd estimation That may with foul intrusion enter in And dwell upon your grave when you are dead; For slander lives upon succession, 155 Forever housèd where it gets possession. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You have prevailed. I will depart in quiet And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. I know a wench of excellent discourse, Pretty and witty, wild and yet, too, gentle. 160 There will we dine. This woman that I mean, My wife—but, I protest, without desert— Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal; To her will we to dinner. ⌜To Angelo.⌝ Get you home And fetch the chain; by this, I know, ’tis made. 165 Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine, For there’s the house. That chain will I bestow— Be it for nothing but to spite my wife— Upon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste. Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 170 I’ll knock elsewhere, to see if they’ll disdain me. ANGELO I’ll meet you at that place some hour hence.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense. They exit.

⌜Scene 2⌝

Enter ⌜Luciana⌝ with Antipholus of Syracuse.

⌜LUCIANA⌝ And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband’s office? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love thy love-springs rot? Shall love, in ⌜building,⌝ grow so ⌜ruinous?⌝ 5 If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then for her wealth’s sake use her with more kindness. Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth — Muffle your false love with some show of 10 blindness. Let not my sister read it in your eye; Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger. 15 Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted. Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint. Be secret-false. What need she be acquainted? What simple thief brags of his own ⌜attaint?⌝ ’Tis double wrong to truant with your bed 20 And let her read it in thy looks at board. Shame hath a bastard fame, well managèd; Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women, make us ⌜but⌝ believe, Being compact of credit, that you love us. 25 Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve; We in your motion turn, and you may move us.

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Then, gentle brother, get you in again. Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her ⌜wife.⌝ ’Tis holy sport to be a little vain 30 When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Sweet mistress—what your name is else I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine— Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not Than our Earth’s wonder, more than Earth divine. 35 Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak. Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, Smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words’ deceit. Against my soul’s pure truth why labor you 40 To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a god? Would you create me new? Transform me, then, and to your power I’ll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, 45 Nor to her bed no homage do I owe. Far more, far more, to you do I decline. O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note To drown me in thy ⌜sister’s⌝ flood of tears. Sing, Siren, for thyself, and I will dote. 50 Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a ⌜bed⌝ I’ll take ⌜them⌝ and there lie, And in that glorious supposition think He gains by death that hath such means to die. Let love, being light, be drownèd if she sink. LUCIANA 55 What, are you mad that you do reason so? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Not mad, but mated—how, I do not know. LUCIANA It is a fault that springeth from your eye.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. LUCIANA Gaze when you should, and that will clear your 60 sight. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. LUCIANA Why call you me “love”? Call my sister so. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thy sister’s sister. LUCIANA That’s my sister. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 65 No, It is thyself, mine own self’s better part, Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim, My sole Earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim. LUCIANA 70 All this my sister is, or else should be. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Call thyself “sister,” sweet, for I am thee. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand. LUCIANA 75 O soft, sir. Hold you still. I’ll fetch my sister to get her goodwill.She exits.

Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Syracuse, ⌜running.⌝

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why, how now, Dromio. Where runn’st thou so fast? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Do you know me, sir? Am I 80 Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am an ass, I am a woman’s man, and besides myself.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 85What woman’s man? And how besides thyself? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, besides myself I am due to a woman, one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 90What claim lays she to thee? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse, and she would have me as a beast; not that I being a beast she would have me, but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays 95 claim to me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What is she? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE A very reverend body, ay, such a one as a man may not speak of without he say “sir-reverence.” I have but lean luck in the match, 100 and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE How dost thou mean a “fat marriage”? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen wench, and all grease, and I know not what use to 105 put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter. If she lives till doomsday, she’ll burn a week longer than the whole world. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 110What complexion is she of? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Swart like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept. For why? She sweats. A man may go overshoes in the grime of it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE That’s a fault that water will 115 mend. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, sir, ’tis in grain; Noah’s flood could not do it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What’s her name? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nell, sir, but her name ⌜and⌝

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120 three quarters—that’s an ell and three quarters— will not measure her from hip to hip. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Then she bears some breadth? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No longer from head to foot than 125 from hip to hip. She is spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE In what part of her body stands Ireland? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, in her buttocks. I 130 found it out by the bogs. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where Scotland? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I found it by the barrenness, hard in the palm of the hand. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where France? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 135In her forehead, armed and reverted, making war against her heir. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where England? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them. But I guess it 140 stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where Spain? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Faith, I saw it not, but I felt it hot in her breath. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 145Where America, the Indies? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, sir, upon her nose, all o’erembellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who sent whole armadas of carracks to be 150 ballast at her nose. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude: this drudge or diviner laid claim to me,

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155 called me Dromio, swore I was assured to her, told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch. 160 And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, She had transformed me to a curtal dog and made me turn i’ th’ wheel. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Go, hie thee presently. Post to the road. 165 An if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbor in this town tonight. If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk till thou return to me. If everyone knows us, and we know none, 170 ’Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife.He exits. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE There’s none but witches do inhabit here, And therefore ’tis high time that I were hence. 175 She that doth call me husband, even my soul Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, Possessed with such a gentle sovereign grace, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Hath almost made me traitor to myself. 180 But lest myself be guilty to self wrong, I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song.

Enter Angelo with the chain.

ANGELO Master Antipholus. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Ay, that’s my name.

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ANGELO I know it well, sir. Lo, here’s the chain. 185 I thought to have ta’en you at the Porpentine; The chain unfinished made me stay thus long. ⌜He gives Antipholus a chain.⌝ ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What is your will that I shall do with this? ANGELO What please yourself, sir. I have made it for you. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not. ANGELO 190 Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. Go home with it, and please your wife withal, And soon at supper time I’ll visit you And then receive my money for the chain. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I pray you, sir, receive the money now, 195 For fear you ne’er see chain nor money more. ANGELO You are a merry man, sir. Fare you well.He exits. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What I should think of this I cannot tell, But this I think: there’s no man is so vain That would refuse so fair an offered chain. 200 I see a man here needs not live by shifts When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. I’ll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay. If any ship put out, then straight away. He exits.

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ACT 4

Scene 1

Enter a ⌜Second⌝ Merchant, ⌜Angelo the⌝ Goldsmith, and an Officer.

⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT, ⌜to Angelo⌝ You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importuned you, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia and want guilders for my voyage. 5 Therefore make present satisfaction, Or I’ll attach you by this officer. ANGELO Even just the sum that I do owe to you Is growing to me by Antipholus. And in the instant that I met with you, 10 He had of me a chain. At five o’clock I shall receive the money for the same. Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, I will discharge my bond and thank you too.

Enter Antipholus ⌜of⌝ Ephesus ⌜and⌝ Dromio ⌜of Ephesus⌝ from the Courtesan’s.

OFFICER That labor may you save. See where he comes. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Dromio of Ephesus⌝ 15 While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go thou

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And buy a rope’s end. That will I bestow Among my wife and ⌜her⌝ confederates For locking me out of my doors by day. But soft. I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone. 20 Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. DROMIO ⌜OF EPHESUS⌝ I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope! Dromio exits. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Angelo⌝ A man is well holp up that trusts to you! I promisèd your presence and the chain, But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. 25 Belike you thought our love would last too long If it were chained together, and therefore came not. ANGELO, ⌜handing a paper to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Saving your merry humor, here’s the note How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat, The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion, 30 Which doth amount to three-odd ducats more Than I stand debted to this gentleman. I pray you, see him presently discharged, For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I am not furnished with the present money. 35 Besides, I have some business in the town. Good signior, take the stranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof. Perchance I will be there as soon as you. ANGELO 40 Then you will bring the chain to her yourself. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS No, bear it with you lest I come not time enough. ANGELO Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you?

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ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS An if I have not, sir, I hope you have, Or else you may return without your money. ANGELO 45 Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain. Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Good Lord! You use this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porpentine. 50 I should have chid you for not bringing it, But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT, ⌜to Angelo⌝ The hour steals on. I pray you, sir, dispatch. ANGELO, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ You hear how he importunes me. The chain! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money. ANGELO 55 Come, come. You know I gave it you even now. Either send the chain, or send ⌜by me⌝ some token. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Fie, now you run this humor out of breath. Come, where’s the chain? I pray you, let me see it. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT My business cannot brook this dalliance. 60 Good sir, say whe’er you’ll answer me or no. If not, I’ll leave him to the Officer. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I answer you? What should I answer you? ANGELO The money that you owe me for the chain. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I owe you none till I receive the chain. ANGELO 65 You know I gave it you half an hour since.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You gave me none. You wrong me much to say so. ANGELO You wrong me more, sir, in denying it. Consider how it stands upon my credit. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. OFFICER, ⌜to Angelo⌝ 70 I do, and charge you in the Duke’s name to obey me. ANGELO, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ This touches me in reputation. Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 75 Consent to pay thee that I never had?— Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar’st. ANGELO, ⌜to Officer⌝ Here is thy fee. Arrest him, officer.⌜Giving money.⌝ I would not spare my brother in this case If he should scorn me so apparently. OFFICER, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ 80 I do arrest you, sir. You hear the suit. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I do obey thee till I give thee bail. ⌜To Angelo.⌝ But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer. ANGELO 85 Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Syracuse from the bay.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, there’s a bark of Epidamium That stays but till her owner comes aboard,

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And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, 90 I have conveyed aboard, and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua vitae. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land. They stay for naught at all But for their owner, master, and yourself. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 95 How now? A madman? Why, thou peevish sheep, What ship of Epidamium stays for me? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope And told thee to what purpose and what end. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 100 You sent me for a rope’s end as soon. You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I will debate this matter at more leisure And teach your ears to list me with more heed. To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight. ⌜He gives a key.⌝ 105 Give her this key, and tell her in the desk That’s covered o’er with Turkish tapestry There is a purse of ducats. Let her send it. Tell her I am arrested in the street, And that shall bail me. Hie thee, slave. Begone.— 110 On, officer, to prison till it come. ⌜All but Dromio of Syracuse⌝ exit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE To Adriana. That is where we dined, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband. She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, 115 For servants must their masters’ minds fulfill. He exits.

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⌜Scene 2⌝

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

ADRIANA Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Might’st thou perceive austerely in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? Looked he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? 5 What observation mad’st thou in this case ⌜Of⌝ his heart’s meteors tilting in his face? LUCIANA First he denied you had in him no right. ADRIANA He meant he did me none; the more my spite. LUCIANA Then swore he that he was a stranger here. ADRIANA 10 And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. LUCIANA Then pleaded I for you. ADRIANA And what said he? LUCIANA That love I begged for you he begged of me. ADRIANA With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? LUCIANA 15 With words that in an honest suit might move. First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. ADRIANA Did’st speak him fair? LUCIANA Have patience, I beseech. ADRIANA I cannot, nor I will not hold me still. 20 My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. He is deformèd, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-faced, worse-bodied, shapeless everywhere,

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Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. LUCIANA 25 Who would be jealous, then, of such a one? No evil lost is wailed when it is gone. ADRIANA Ah, but I think him better than I say, And yet would herein others’ eyes were worse. Far from her nest the lapwing cries away. 30 My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.

Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Syracuse ⌜with the key.⌝

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Here, go—the desk, the purse! Sweet, now make haste. LUCIANA How hast thou lost thy breath? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 35 By running fast. ADRIANA Where is thy master, Dromio? Is he well? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, he’s in Tartar limbo, worse than hell. A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, One whose hard heart is buttoned up with steel; 40 A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; A backfriend, a shoulder clapper, one that countermands The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; 45 A hound that runs counter and yet draws dryfoot well, One that before the judgment carries poor souls to hell. ADRIANA Why, man, what is the matter?

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DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 50 I do not know the matter. He is ’rested on the case. ADRIANA What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I know not at whose suit he is arrested well, But is in a suit of buff which ’rested him; that can I tell. 55 Will you send him, mistress, redemption—the money in his desk? ADRIANA Go fetch it, sister. (Luciana exits.) This I wonder at, ⌜That⌝ he, unknown to me, should be in debt. Tell me, was he arrested on a band? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 60 Not on a band, but on a stronger thing: A chain, a chain. Do you not hear it ring? ADRIANA What, the chain? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, no, the bell. ’Tis time that I were gone. It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes 65 one. ADRIANA The hours come back. That did I never hear. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, he turns back for very fear. ADRIANA As if time were in debt. How fondly dost thou 70 reason! DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Time is a very bankrout and owes more than he’s worth to season. Nay, he’s a thief too. Have you not heard men say That time comes stealing on by night and day?

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75 If ⌜he⌝ be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?

Enter Luciana, ⌜with the purse.⌝

ADRIANA Go, Dromio. There’s the money. Bear it straight, And bring thy master home immediately. ⌜Dromio exits.⌝ 80 Come, sister, I am pressed down with conceit: Conceit, my comfort and my injury. ⌜They⌝ exit.

⌜Scene 3⌝

Enter Antipholus ⌜of⌝ Syracuse, ⌜wearing the chain.⌝

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE There’s not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend, And everyone doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me; some invite me; 5 Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; Some offer me commodities to buy. Even now a tailor called me in his shop And showed me silks that he had bought for me, And therewithal took measure of my body. 10 Sure these are but imaginary wiles, And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Syracuse ⌜with the purse.⌝

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, here’s the gold you sent me for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new-appareled? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 15 What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean?

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DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calf’s skin that was killed for the Prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil 20 angel, and bid you forsake your liberty. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I understand thee not. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No? Why, ’tis a plain case: he that went like a bass viol in a case of leather; the man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives 25 them a sob and ’rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What, thou mean’st an 30 officer? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that thinks a man always going to bed and says “God give you good rest.” ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 35Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ships puts forth tonight? May we be gone? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the bark Expedition put forth tonight, 40 and then were you hindered by the sergeant to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you.⌜He gives the purse.⌝ ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions. 45 Some blessèd power deliver us from hence!

Enter a Courtesan.

COURTESAN Well met, well met, Master Antipholus.

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I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now. Is that the chain you promised me today? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 50 Master, is this Mistress Satan? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE It is the devil. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nay, she is worse; she is the devil’s dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench. And thereof comes that the wenches 55 say “God damn me”; that’s as much to say “God make me a light wench.” It is written they appear to men like angels of light. Light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn: ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her. COURTESAN 60 Your man and you are marvelous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We’ll mend our dinner here. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, if ⌜you⌝ do, expect spoon meat, or bespeak a long spoon. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why, Dromio? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 65Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, ⌜to the Courtesan⌝ Avoid then, fiend! What tell’st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress. I conjure thee to leave me and be gone. COURTESAN 70 Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised, And I’ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Some devils ask but the parings of one’s nail, a rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, a 75 nut, a cherrystone; but she, more covetous, would have a chain. Master, be wise. An if you give it her, the devil will shake her chain and fright us with it.

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COURTESAN I pray you, sir, my ring or else the chain. I hope you do not mean to cheat me so. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE 80 Avaunt, thou witch!—Come, Dromio, let us go. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE “Fly pride,” says the peacock. Mistress, that you know. ⌜Antipholus and Dromio⌝ exit. COURTESAN Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad; Else would he never so demean himself. 85 A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, And for the same he promised me a chain. Both one and other he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage, 90 Is a mad tale he told today at dinner Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doors against his way. My way is now to hie home to his house 95 And tell his wife that, being lunatic, He rushed into my house and took perforce My ring away. This course I fittest choose, For forty ducats is too much to lose. ⌜She exits.⌝

⌜Scene 4⌝

Enter Antipholus ⌜of⌝ Ephesus with a Jailer, ⌜the Officer.⌝

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Fear me not, man. I will not break away. I’ll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, To warrant thee, as I am ’rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood today

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5 And will not lightly trust the messenger That I should be attached in Ephesus. I tell you, ’twill sound harshly in her ears.

Enter Dromio ⌜of⌝ Ephesus with a rope’s end.

Here comes my man. I think he brings the money. 10 How now, sir? Have you that I sent you for? DROMIO OF EPHESUS, ⌜handing over the rope’s end⌝ Here’s that, I warrant you, will pay them all. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS But where’s the money? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope? DROMIO OF EPHESUS 15 I’ll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? DROMIO OF EPHESUS To a rope’s end, sir, and to that end am I returned. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜beating Dromio⌝ And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. OFFICER 20Good sir, be patient. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, ’tis for me to be patient. I am in adversity. OFFICER Good now, hold thy tongue. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, rather persuade him to hold 25 his hands. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Thou whoreson, senseless villain. DROMIO OF EPHESUS I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 30Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass.

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DROMIO OF EPHESUS I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long ears.—I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have 35 nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with beating. I am waked with it when I sleep, raised with it when I sit, driven out of doors with it when I go from home, 40 welcomed home with it when I return. Nay, I bear it on my shoulders as a beggar wont her brat, and I think when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, and a Schoolmaster called Pinch.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Come, go along. My wife is coming yonder. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 45Mistress, respice finem, respect your end, or rather, the prophecy like the parrot, “Beware the rope’s end.” ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Wilt thou still talk? Beats Dromio. COURTESAN, ⌜to Adriana⌝ How say you now? Is not your husband mad? ADRIANA 50 His incivility confirms no less.— Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; Establish him in his true sense again, And I will please you what you will demand. LUCIANA Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks! COURTESAN 55 Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy. PINCH, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜striking Pinch⌝ There is my hand, and let it feel your ear. PINCH I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers, 60 And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight. I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Peace, doting wizard, peace. I am not mad. ADRIANA O, that thou wert not, poor distressèd soul! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You minion, you, are these your customers? 65 Did this companion with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house today Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut And I denied to enter in my house? ADRIANA O husband, God doth know you dined at home, 70 Where would you had remained until this time, Free from these slanders and this open shame. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS “Dined at home”? ⌜To Dromio.⌝ Thou villain, what sayest thou? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 75 Were not my doors locked up and I shut out? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Perdie, your doors were locked, and you shut out. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS And did not she herself revile me there? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sans fable, she herself reviled you there. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Did not her kitchen maid rail, taunt, and scorn me?

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DROMIO OF EPHESUS 80 Certes, she did; the kitchen vestal scorned you. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS And did not I in rage depart from thence? DROMIO OF EPHESUS In verity you did.—My bones bears witness, That since have felt the vigor of his rage. ADRIANA, ⌜to Pinch⌝ Is ’t good to soothe him in these contraries? PINCH 85 It is no shame. The fellow finds his vein And, yielding to him, humors well his frenzy. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Adriana⌝ Thou hast suborned the goldsmith to arrest me. ADRIANA Alas, I sent you money to redeem you By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 90 Money by me? Heart and goodwill you might, But surely, master, not a rag of money. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Went’st not thou to her for a purse of ducats? ADRIANA He came to me, and I delivered it. LUCIANA And I am witness with her that she did. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 95 God and the rope-maker bear me witness That I was sent for nothing but a rope. PINCH Mistress, both man and master is possessed. I know it by their pale and deadly looks. They must be bound and laid in some dark room. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Adriana⌝ 100 Say wherefore didst thou lock me forth today.

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⌜To Dromio of Ephesus.⌝ And why dost thou deny the bag of gold? ADRIANA I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. DROMIO OF EPHESUS And, gentle master, I received no gold. 105 But I confess, sir, that we were locked out. ADRIANA Dissembling villain, thou speak’st false in both. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, And art confederate with a damnèd pack To make a loathsome abject scorn of me. 110 But with these nails I’ll pluck out these false eyes That would behold in me this shameful sport. ADRIANA O bind him, bind him! Let him not come near me.

Enter three or four, and offer to bind him. He strives.

PINCH More company! The fiend is strong within him. LUCIANA Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 115 What, will you murder me?—Thou jailer, thou, I am thy prisoner. Wilt thou suffer them To make a rescue? OFFICER Masters, let him go. He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. PINCH 120 Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too. ⌜Dromio is bound.⌝ ADRIANA, ⌜to Officer⌝ What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himself?

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OFFICER He is my prisoner. If I let him go, 125 The debt he owes will be required of me. ADRIANA I will discharge thee ere I go from thee. Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, And knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.— Good Master Doctor, see him safe conveyed 130 Home to my house. O most unhappy day! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS O most unhappy strumpet! DROMIO OF EPHESUS Master, I am here entered in bond for you. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Out on thee, villain! Wherefore dost thou mad me? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Will you be bound for nothing? Be mad, good 135 master. Cry “The devil!” LUCIANA God help poor souls! How idly do they talk! ADRIANA, ⌜to Pinch⌝ Go bear him hence. ⌜Pinch and his men⌝ exit ⌜with Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus.⌝ Officer, Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan remain. Sister, go you with me. 140 ⌜To Officer.⌝ Say now whose suit is he arrested at. OFFICER One Angelo, a goldsmith. Do you know him? ADRIANA I know the man. What is the sum he owes? OFFICER Two hundred ducats. ADRIANA Say, how grows it due? OFFICER 145 Due for a chain your husband had of him.

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ADRIANA He did bespeak a chain for me but had it not. COURTESAN Whenas your husband all in rage today Came to my house and took away my ring, The ring I saw upon his finger now, 150 Straight after did I meet him with a chain. ADRIANA It may be so, but I did never see it.— Come, jailer, 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 155 And come with naked swords. Let’s call more help To have them bound again. OFFICER Away! They’ll kill us. Run all out as fast as may be, frighted. ⌜Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse remain.⌝ 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 160 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 165 nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here still, and turn witch.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I will not stay tonight for all the town. Therefore, away, to get our stuff aboard. They exit.

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ACT 5

Scene 1

Enter the ⌜Second⌝ Merchant and ⌜Angelo⌝ the Goldsmith.

ANGELO I am sorry, sir, that I have hindered you, But I protest he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT How is the man esteemed here in the city? ANGELO 5 Of very reverend reputation, sir, Of credit infinite, highly beloved, Second to none that lives here in the city. His word might bear my wealth at any time. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT Speak softly. Yonder, as I think, he walks.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio ⌜of Syracuse⌝ again, ⌜Antipholus wearing the chain.⌝

ANGELO 10 ’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, 15 And not without some scandal to yourself,

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With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain, which now you wear so openly. Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend, 20 Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail and put to sea today. This chain you had of me. Can you deny it? ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ I think I had. I never did deny it. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too. ANTIPHOLUS ⌜OF SYRACUSE⌝ 25 Who heard me to deny it or forswear it? ⌜SECOND⌝ 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. 30 I’ll prove mine honor and mine honesty Against thee presently if thou dar’st stand. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.They draw.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, and others.

ADRIANA Hold, hurt him not, for God’s sake. He is mad.— Some get within him; take his sword away. 35 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 spoiled. ⌜Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse⌝ exit to the Priory.

Enter Lady Abbess.

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ABBESS Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither? ADRIANA To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. 40 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. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT I am sorry now that I did draw on him. ABBESS How long hath this possession held the man? ADRIANA 45 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 wrack of sea? 50 Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Strayed 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? ADRIANA 55 To none of these, except it be the last, Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. ABBESS You should for that have reprehended him. ADRIANA Why, so I did. ABBESS Ay, but not rough enough. ADRIANA 60 As roughly as my modesty would let me. ABBESS Haply in private.

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ADRIANA And in assemblies too. ABBESS Ay, but not enough. ADRIANA It was the copy of our conference. 65 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 glancèd it. Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. ABBESS 70 And thereof came it that the man was mad. The venom clamors of a jealous woman Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light. 75 Thou sayst his meat was sauced 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? 80 Thou sayest his sports were hindered by thy brawls. Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue But moody and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, And at her heels a huge infectious troop 85 Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturbed would mad or man or beast. The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits Hath scared thy husband from the use of wits. LUCIANA 90 She never reprehended him but mildly When he demeaned himself rough, rude, and wildly.— Why bear you these rebukes and answer not?

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ADRIANA She did betray me to my own reproof.— 95 Good people, enter and lay hold on him. ABBESS No, not a creature enters in my house. ADRIANA Then let your servants bring my husband forth. ABBESS Neither. He took this place for sanctuary, And it shall privilege him from your hands 100 Till I have brought him to his wits again Or lose my labor in assaying it. ADRIANA I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office And will have no attorney but myself; 105 And therefore let me have him home with me. ABBESS Be patient, for I will not let him stir Till I have used the approvèd means I have, With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, To make of him a formal man again. 110 It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order. Therefore depart and leave him here with me. ADRIANA I will not hence and leave my husband here; And ill it doth beseem your holiness 115 To separate the husband and the wife. ABBESS Be quiet and depart. Thou shalt not have him. ⌜She exits.⌝ LUCIANA, ⌜to Adriana⌝ Complain unto the Duke of this indignity. ADRIANA Come, go. I will fall prostrate at his feet And never rise until my tears and prayers

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120 Have won his grace to come in person hither And take perforce my husband from the Abbess. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT By this, I think, the dial points at five. Anon, I’m sure, the Duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale, 125 The place of ⌜death⌝ and sorry execution Behind the ditches of the abbey here. ANGELO Upon what cause? ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, Who put unluckily into this bay 130 Against the laws and statutes of this town, Beheaded publicly for his offense. ANGELO See where they come. We will behold his death. LUCIANA, ⌜to Adriana⌝ Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and ⌜Egeon⌝ the Merchant of Syracuse, bare head, with the Headsman and other Officers.

DUKE Yet once again proclaim it publicly, 135 If any friend will pay the sum for him, He shall not die; so much we tender him. ADRIANA, ⌜kneeling⌝ Justice, most sacred duke, against the Abbess. DUKE She is a virtuous and a reverend lady. It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. ADRIANA 140 May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husband, Who I made lord of me and all I had At your important letters, this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him,

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That desp’rately he hurried through the street, 145 With him his bondman, all as mad as he, Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, anything his rage did like. Once did I get him bound and sent him home 150 Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad attendant and himself, 155 Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again and, madly bent on us, Chased us away, till raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursued them, 160 And here the Abbess shuts the gates on us And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help. DUKE 165 Long since, thy husband served me in my wars, And I to thee engaged a prince’s word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go, some of you, knock at the abbey gate, 170 And bid the Lady Abbess come to me. I will determine this before I stir.⌜Adriana rises.⌝

Enter a Messenger.

⌜MESSENGER⌝ O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself. My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor,

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175 Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire, And ever as it blazed they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair. My master preaches patience to him, and the while 180 His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; And sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer. ADRIANA Peace, fool. Thy master and his man are here, And that is false thou dost report to us. MESSENGER 185 Mistress, upon my life I tell you true. I have not breathed 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, begone! DUKE 190 Come, stand by me. Fear nothing.—Guard with halberds.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus.

ADRIANA Ay me, it is my husband. Witness you That he is borne about invisible. Even now we housed him in the abbey here, 195 And now he’s there, past thought of human reason. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 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 200 That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. EGEON, ⌜aside⌝ Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, I see my son Antipholus and Dromio.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there, She whom thou gav’st to me to be my wife, 205 That hath abusèd 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. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 210 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? ADRIANA No, my good lord. Myself, he, and my sister Today did dine together. So befall my soul 215 As this is false he burdens me withal. LUCIANA Ne’er may I look on day nor sleep on night But she tells to your Highness simple truth. ANGELO O perjured woman!—They are both forsworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 220 My liege, I am advisèd what I say, Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash provoked with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman locked me out this day from dinner. 225 That goldsmith there, were he not packed 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 Balthasar and I did dine together. 230 Our dinner done and he not coming thither,

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I went to seek him. In the street I met him, And in his company that gentleman. ⌜He points to Second Merchant.⌝ There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him received the chain, 235 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 returned. Then fairly I bespoke the officer 240 To go in person with me to my house. By th’ way we met My wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vile confederates. Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry, lean-faced 245 villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man. This pernicious slave, 250 Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face (as ’twere) outfacing me, Cries out I was possessed. Then all together They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, 255 And in a dark and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together, Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gained my freedom and immediately Ran hither to your Grace, whom I beseech 260 To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities. ANGELO My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him: That he dined not at home, but was locked out.

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DUKE But had he such a chain of thee or no? ANGELO 265 He had, my lord, and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. ⌜SECOND⌝ MERCHANT, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him After you first forswore it on the mart, 270 And thereupon I drew my sword on you, And then you fled into this abbey here, From whence I think you are come by miracle. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I never came within these abbey walls, Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me. 275 I never saw the chain, so help me heaven, And this is false you burden me withal. DUKE Why, what an intricate impeach is this! I think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup. If here you housed him, here he would have been. 280 If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly. ⌜To Adriana.⌝ You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here Denies that saying. ⌜To Dromio of Ephesus.⌝ Sirrah, what say you? DROMIO OF EPHESUS, ⌜pointing to the Courtesan⌝ 285 Sir, he dined with her there at the Porpentine. COURTESAN He did, and from my finger snatched that ring. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜showing a ring⌝ ’Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her. DUKE, ⌜to Courtesan⌝ Saw’st thou him enter at the abbey here? COURTESAN As sure, my liege, as I do see your Grace.

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DUKE 290 Why, this is strange.—Go call the Abbess hither. Exit one to the Abbess. I think you are all mated or stark mad. EGEON Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word. Haply I see a friend will save my life And pay the sum that may deliver me. DUKE 295 Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. EGEON, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Is not your name, sir, called Antipholus? And is not that your bondman Dromio? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnawed in two my cords. 300 Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. EGEON I am sure you both of you remember me. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you, For lately we were bound as you are now. You are not Pinch’s patient, are you, sir? EGEON, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ 305 Why look you strange on me? You know me well. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I never saw you in my life till now. EGEON O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with time’s deformèd hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. 310 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Neither. EGEON Dromio, nor thou? DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, trust me, sir, nor I.

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EGEON I am sure thou dost. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 315Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. EGEON Not know my voice! O time’s extremity, Hast thou so cracked and splitted my poor tongue 320 In seven short years that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares? Though now this grainèd face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter’s drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, 325 Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear. All these old witnesses—I cannot err— Tell me thou art my son Antipholus. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 330 I never saw my father in my life. EGEON But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know’st we parted. But perhaps, my son, Thou sham’st to acknowledge me in misery. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS The Duke and all that know me in the city 335 Can witness with me that it is not so. I ne’er saw Syracusa in my life. DUKE I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne’er saw Syracusa. 340 I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter ⌜Emilia⌝ the Abbess, with Antipholus ⌜of⌝ Syracuse and Dromio ⌜of⌝ Syracuse.

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ABBESS Most mighty duke, behold a man much wronged. All gather to see them. ADRIANA I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. DUKE One of these men is genius to the other. And so, of these, which is the natural man 345 And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I, sir, am Dromio. Command him away. DROMIO OF EPHESUS I, sir, am Dromio. Pray, let me stay. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Egeon art thou not, or else his ghost? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, my old master.—Who hath bound him here? ABBESS 350 Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds And gain a husband by his liberty.— Speak, old Egeon, if thou be’st the man That hadst a wife once called Emilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons. 355 O, if thou be’st the same Egeon, speak, And speak unto the same Emilia. DUKE Why, here begins his morning story right: These two Antipholus’, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance— 360 Besides her urging of her wrack at sea— These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together. EGEON If I dream not, thou art Emilia. If thou art she, tell me, where is that son 365 That floated with thee on the fatal raft?

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ABBESS By men of Epidamium he and I And the twin Dromio all were taken up; But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, 370 And me they left with those of Epidamium. What then became of them I cannot tell; I to this fortune that you see me in. DUKE, ⌜to Antipholus of Syracuse⌝ Antipholus, thou cam’st from Corinth first. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE No, sir, not I. I came from Syracuse. DUKE 375 Stay, stand apart. I know not which is which. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. DROMIO OF EPHESUS And I with him. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Brought to this town by that most famous warrior Duke Menaphon, your most renownèd uncle. ADRIANA 380 Which of you two did dine with me today? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I, gentle mistress. ADRIANA And are not you my husband? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS No, I say nay to that. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE And so do I, yet did she call me so, 385 And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother. ⌜To Luciana.⌝ What I told you then I hope I shall have leisure to make good, If this be not a dream I see and hear. ANGELO, ⌜turning to Antipholus of Syracuse⌝ 390 That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.

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ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I think it be, sir. I deny it not. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to Angelo⌝ And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. ANGELO I think I did, sir. I deny it not. ADRIANA, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ I sent you money, sir, to be your bail 395 By Dromio, but I think he brought it not. DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, none by me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, ⌜to Adriana⌝ This purse of ducats I received from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me. I see we still did meet each other’s man, 400 And I was ta’en for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, ⌜to the Duke⌝ These ducats pawn I for my father here. DUKE It shall not need. Thy father hath his life. COURTESAN, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Sir, I must have that diamond from you. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS 405 There, take it, and much thanks for my good cheer. ABBESS Renownèd duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here And hear at large discoursèd all our fortunes, And all that are assembled in this place 410 That by this sympathizèd one day’s error Have suffered wrong. Go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.— Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons, and till this present hour 415 My heavy burden ⌜ne’er⌝ deliverèd.— The Duke, my husband, and my children both,

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And you, the calendars of their nativity, Go to a gossips’ feast, and go with me. After so long grief, such nativity! DUKE 420 With all my heart I’ll gossip at this feast. All exit except the two Dromios and ⌜the⌝ two brothers ⌜Antipholus.⌝ DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embarked? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, ⌜to Antipholus of Ephesus⌝ He speaks to me.—I am your master, Dromio. 425 Come, go with us. We’ll look to that anon. Embrace thy brother there. Rejoice with him. ⌜The brothers Antipholus⌝ exit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE There is a fat friend at your master’s house That kitchened me for you today at dinner. She now shall be my sister, not my wife. DROMIO OF EPHESUS 430 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 435 try it? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE We’ll draw cuts for the signior. Till then, lead thou first. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, then, thus: We came into the world like brother and brother, 440 And now let’s go hand in hand, not one before another. They exit.

#shakespeare #the comedy of errors #william shakespeare #english literature #its free and the government can’t stop you #english

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