ervant_._

_Serv._ 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, 170
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
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; 175
And sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

_Adr._ Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here;
And that is false thou dost report to us.

_Serv._ Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; 180
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, be gone!

_Duke._ Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard with halberds! 185

_Adr._ Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible:
Even now we housed him in the abbey here;
And now he's there, past thought of human reason.

_Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_ and _DROMIO of Ephesus_._

_Ant. E._ Justice, most gracious Duke, O, grant me justice! 190
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
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

_Aege._ Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, 195
I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio.

_Ant. E._ Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there!
She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife,
That hath abused and dishonour'd me
Even in the strength and height of injury: 200
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.

_Duke._ Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.

_Ant. E._ This day, great Duke, she shut the doors upon me,
While she with harlots feasted in my house. 205

_Duke._ A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst thou so?

_Adr._ No, my good lord: myself, he and my sister
To-day did dine together. So befal my soul
As this is false he burdens me withal!

_Luc._ Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, 210
But she tells to your Highness simple truth!

_Ang._ O perjured woman! They are both forsworn:
In this the madman justly chargeth