This text of The Comedy of Errors is from Volume I of the nine-volume 1863 Cambridge edition of Shakespeare. The Preface ([e-text 23041]) and the other plays from this volume are each available as separate e-texts.

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THE WORKS

OF

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

EDITED BY

WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M.A.

FELLOW AND TUTOR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, AND PUBLIC ORATOR
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE;

and JOHN GLOVER, M.A.

LIBRARIAN OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

VOLUME I.

Cambridge and London:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1863.

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

[ DRAMATIS PERSONÆ].[1]

Scene—Ephesus.

[1.] Dramatis Personæ first given by Rowe.

[2.] Solinus] See [note (I)].

[3.] Antipholus] See [note (I)].

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

[ACT I.]

[ I. 1 Scene I.] [A hall in the Duke’s palace.]

Enter Duke, [Ægeon], Gaoler, [Officers], and other Attendants.

Æge. 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:

The enmity and discord which of late

5 Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke

To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,

Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives,

Have seal’d his rigorous statutes with their bloods,

10 Excludes all pity from our threatening [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 [any] Syracusian marts and fairs;

Again: if any Syracusian born

20 Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,

His goods confiscate to the duke’s dispose;

Unless a thousand marks be levied,

To quit the penalty and [to ransom] him.

Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,

25 Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;

Therefore by law thou art condemn’d to die.

Æge. 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

30 Why thou departed’st from thy native home,

And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus.

Æge. A heavier task could not have been imposed

Than I to speak my [griefs] unspeakable:

Yet, that the world may witness that my end

35 Was wrought by [nature], not by vile offence,

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.

40 With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased

By prosperous voyages I often made

To [Epidamnum]; till my factor’s death,

And [the great care of goods at random left],

Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:

45 From whom my absence was not six months old,

Before herself, almost at fainting under

The pleasing punishment that women bear,

Had made provision for her following me,

And soon and safe arrived where I was.

50 There [had she] not been long but she became

A joyful mother of two goodly sons;

And, which was strange, the one so like the other

As could not be distinguish’d but by names.

That very hour, and in the self-same inn,

55 A [meaner] woman was delivered

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,

60 Made daily motions for our home return:

Unwilling I agreed; alas! too [soon]

[We came aboard].

A league from Epidamnum had we sail’d,

Before the always-wind-obeying deep

65 Gave any tragic instance of our harm:

But longer did we not retain much hope;

For what obscured light the heavens did grant

Did but convey unto our fearful minds

A doubtful warrant of immediate death;

70 Which though myself would [gladly] have embraced,

Yet the incessant [weepings] of my wife,

Weeping before for what she saw must come,

And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,

That mourn’d for fashion, ignorant what to fear,

75 Forced me to seek delays for them and me.

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,

80 Had fasten’d him unto a small spare mast,

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,

85 Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix’d,

Fasten’d ourselves at [either end the mast];

[And] floating straight, obedient to the stream,

[Was] carried towards Corinth, as we thought.

At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,

90 Dispersed those vapours that offended us;

And, by the benefit of his [wished] light,

The [seas wax’d] calm, and we discovered

Two ships from far making amain to us,

Of Corinth that, of [Epidaurus] this:

95 But ere they came,—O, let me say no more!

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.

Æge. O, had the gods done so, I had not now

100 Worthily term’d them merciless to us!

For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,

We were encounter’d by a mighty rock;

Which being violently borne [upon],

Our [helpful] ship was splitted in the midst;

105 So that, in this unjust divorce of us,

Fortune had left to both of us alike

What to delight in, what to sorrow for.

Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened

With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,

110 Was carried with more speed before the wind;

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,

115 Gave [healthful] welcome to their shipwreck’d guests;

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 sever’d from my bliss;

120 [That] by misfortunes was my life prolong’d,

To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

Duke. And, for the [sake] of them thou sorrowest for,

Do me the favour to dilate at full

What [hath befall’n of them and thee] till now.

125 Æge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,

[At eighteen years] became inquisitive

After his brother: and importuned me

That his attendant—[so] his case was like,

Reft of his brother, but retain’d his name—

130 Might bear him company in [the] quest of him:

Whom whilst [I labour’d of a] love to see,

I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.

[Five summers] have I spent in furthest Greece,

Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,

135 And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;

Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought

Or that, or any place that harbours men.

But here must end the story of my life;

And happy were I in my timely death,

140 Could all my travels warrant me they live.

Duke. Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have mark’d

To bear the extremity of dire mishap!

Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,

[Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,]

145 Which [princes, would they, may] not disannul,

My soul should sue as advocate for thee.

But, though thou art adjudged to the death,

And passed sentence may not be recall’d

But to our honour’s great disparagement,

150 Yet will I favour thee in what I can.

[Therefore, merchant], I’ll limit thee this day

To seek thy [help by beneficial help]:

Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;

Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,

155 And live; if [no], then thou art doom’d to die.

[Gaoler], take him to thy custody.

Gaol. I will, my lord.

Æge. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend,

But to procrastinate his [lifeless] end.

Exeunt.

[ I. 2 Scene II. The Mart.]

[Enter] Antipholus of Syracuse, Dromio of Syracuse, and First Merchant.

First Mer. Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum,

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.

Ant. S. 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 dinner-time:]

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.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word,

And go indeed, having so good a [mean]. Exit.

Ant. S. A trusty villain, sir; that very oft,

20 When I am dull with care and melancholy,

Lightens my humour with his merry jests.

What, will you walk with me about the town,

And then go to [my] inn, and dine with me?

First Mer. 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 bed-time:

My present business calls me from you now.

30 Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose [myself],

And wander up and down to view the city.

First Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit.]

Ant. S. 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 return’d so soon?

Dro. E. Return’d so soon! rather approach’d 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:

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 to-day.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, I pray:

Where have you left the money that I gave you?

55 Dro. E. 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.

Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now:

Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?

60 We being strangers here, how darest thou trust

So great a charge from thine own custody?

Dro. E. 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 [score] your fault upon my pate.

Methinks your maw, like mine, should be [your clock],

And strike you home without a messenger.

Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.

70 Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

Dro. E. To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me.

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,

And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge.

Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart

75 Home to your house, the Phœnix, sir, to dinner:

My mistress and her sister [stays] for you.

Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me,

In what safe place you have bestow’d my money;

Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,

80 That stands on tricks when I am undisposed:

Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate,

Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders;

But not a thousand marks between you both.

85 If I should pay your worship those again,

Perchance you [will] not bear them patiently.

Ant. S. Thy mistress’ marks? what mistress, slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phœnix;

She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,

90 And prays that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.

Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for [God’s] sake, hold your hands!

Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels. Exit.

95 Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other

The villain is [o’er-raught] of all my money.

They say this town is full of cozenage;

As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,

[Dark-working] sorcerers that change the mind.

100 [Soul-killing] witches that deform the body,

Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,

And many such-like [liberties] of sin:

If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.

I’ll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave:

105 I greatly fear my money is not safe. Exit.

[ACT II.]