Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
S. Dro. you know.
S. Dro. Exit.
Cur. Cur.
Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad,
Cur. Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe,
Cur. A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets,
Cur. And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine,
Cur. Both one and other he denies me now:
Cur. The reason that I gather he is mad,
Cur. Besides this present instance of his rage,
Cur. Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Cur. Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance.
Cur. Belike his wife acquainted with his fits,
Cur. On purpose shut the doores against his way:
Cur. My way is now to hie home to his house,
Cur. And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,
Cur. He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce
Cur. My Ring away. This course I fittest choose,
Cur. For fortie Duckets is too much to loose.
Cur. [Act 4, Scene 4]