The Comedy of Errors

The Comedy of Errors
By William Shakespeare.




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Dramatis Personae


Solinus, duke of Ephesus


Aegeon, a merchant of Syracuse


Antipholus of Ephesus, twin brother and son to Aegeon and Aemilia


Antipholus of Syracuse, twin brother and son to Aegeon and Aemilia


Dromio of Ephesus, twin brother, and attendant on the two Antipholuses


Dromio of Syracuse, twin brother, and attendant on the two Antipholuses


Balthazar, a merchant


Angelo, a goldsmith


First Merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse


Second Merchant, to whom Angelo is a debtor


Pinch, a schoolmaster


Aemilia, wife to Aegeon, an abbess at Ephesus


Adriana, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus


Luciana, her sister


Luce, servant to Adriana


A courtesan


Gaoler, officers, and other attendants


Scene: Ephesus


The Comedy of Errors


Act I

Scene I
A hall in the Duke’s palace.




Enter Duke, Aegeon, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.


Aegeon

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

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,

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,

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

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,

Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;

Therefore by law thou art condemn’d to die.



Aegeon

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

Why thou departed’st from thy native home

And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus.



Aegeon

A heavier task could not have been imposed

Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable:

Yet, that the world may witness that my end

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.

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:

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.

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

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,

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

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;

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,

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,

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,

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,

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:

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