_Ant. E._ My liege, I am advised what I say; Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, 215 Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock’d me out this day from dinner: That goldsmith there, were he not pack’d with her, Could witness it, for he was with me then; 220 Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, I went to seek him: in the street I met him, 225 And in his company that gentleman. There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him received the chain, Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which He did arrest me with an officer. 230 I did obey; and sent my peasant home For certain ducats: he with none return’d. Then fairly I bespoke the officer To go in person with me to my house. By the way we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more 235 Of vile confederates. Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 240 A living-dead man: this pernicious slave, 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 possess’d. Then all together 245 They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, 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 gain’d my freedom, and immediately 250 Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities. _Ang._ My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him, That he dined not at home, but was lock’d out. 255 _Duke._ But had he such a chain of thee or no? _Ang._ He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. _Sec. Mer._ Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him, 260 After you first forswore it on the mart: 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. _Ant. E._ I never came within these abbey-walls; 265 Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: 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. 270 If here you housed him, here he would have been; If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly: You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you?