_Cour._ As sure, my liege, as I do see your Grace.
_Duke._ Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess. .h.i.ther. 280 I think you are all mated, or stark mad.
[_Exit one to the Abbess._
_aege._ 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._ Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. 285
_aege._ Is not your name, sir, call"d Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman, Dromio?
_Dro. E._ Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnaw"d in two my cords: Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound. 290
_aege._ I am sure you both of you remember me.
_Dro. E._ 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?
_aege._ Why look you strange on me? you know me well. 295
_Ant. E._ I never saw you in my life till now.
_aege._ O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with time"s deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? 300
_Ant. E._ Neither.
_aege._ Dromio, nor thou?
_Dro. E._ No, trust me, sir, nor I.
_aege._ I am sure thou dost.
_Dro. E._ Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. 305
_aege._ Not know my voice! O time"s extremity, Hast thou so crack"d and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid 310 In sap-consuming winter"s drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 315 All these old witnesses--I cannot err-- Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.
_Ant. E._ I never saw my father in my life.
_aege._ But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know"st we parted: but perhaps, my son, 320 Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery.
_Ant. E._ The Duke and all that know me in the city Can witness with me that it is not so: I ne"er saw Syracusa in my life.
_Duke._ I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years 325 Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne"er saw Syracusa: I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
_Re-enter _Abbess_, with _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_ and _DROMIO of Syracuse_._
_Abb._ Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong"d.
[_All gather to see them._
_Adr._ I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. 330
_Duke._ One of these men is Genius to the other; And so of these. Which is the natural man, And which the spirit? who deciphers them?
_Dro. S._ I, sir, am Dromio: command him away.
_Dro. E._ I, sir, am Dromio: pray, let me stay. 335
_Ant. S._ aegeon art thou not? or else his ghost?
_Dro. S._ O, my old master! who hath bound him here?
_Abb._ Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty.
Speak, old aegeon, if thou be"st the man 340 That hadst a wife once call"d aemilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: O, if thou be"st the same aegeon, speak, And speak unto the same aemilia!
_aege._ If I dream not, thou art aemilia: 345 If thou art she, tell me where is that son That floated with thee on the fatal raft?
_Abb._ By men of Epid.a.m.num he and I And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth 350 By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epid.a.m.num.
What then became of them I cannot tell; I to this fortune that you see me in.
_Duke._ Why, here begins his morning story right: 355 These two Antipholuses, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance,-- Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,-- These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together. 360 Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first?
_Ant. S._ No, sir, not I; I came from Syracuse.
_Duke._ Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which.
_Ant. E._ I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord,--
_Dro. E._ And I with him. 365
_Ant. E._ Brought to this town by that most famous warrior.
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
_Adr._ Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
_Ant. S._ I, gentle mistress.
_Adr._ And are not you my husband?
_Ant. E._ No; I say nay to that. 370
_Ant. S._ And so do I; yet did she call me so: And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother. [_To Lucia._] What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good; If this be not a dream I see and hear. 375
_Ang._ That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
_Ant. S._ I think it be, sir; I deny it not.