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littp://www.arcli ive.org/details/comedyoferpadelfOOsliakuoft
i
Ubc XTu^or Sbaftespeare
EDITED BY
WILLIAM ALLAN NEILSON
AND
ASHLEY HORACE THORNDIKE
^
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., Limited
LONDON • BOMBAY ■ CALCUTTA MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
TORONTO
Ube trusor Sbaftespeare ^;Ll't"Sli''ir„';
the plays and poems. It is under the general editorship of William Allan Neilson, Ph.D., of Harvard University, and Ashley Horace Thorndike, Ph.D., L.H.D., of Columbia University. The following volumes, each under the special editorship of an American scholar, are now ready or in preparation.
Already Published
Romeo and Juliet — The General Editors.
A Midsummer-Night's Dream John W. Ctjnlifpb, D.Lit., Profes- sor of English, University of Wisconsin.
Macbeth — Arthur C. L. Brown, Ph.D., Professor of English, North- western University.
Hteory IV, Part I — Frank W. Chandler, Ph.D., Professor of Eng- lish and Comparative Literature, University of Cincinnati.
Troilus and Cressida — John S. P, Tatlock, Ph.D., Professor of Eng- lish, University of Michigan.
Henry V — Lewis F. Mott, Ph.D., Professor of English, College of the City of New York.
The Merchant of Venice — Harry M. Ayres, Ph.D., Assistant Pro- fessor of English, Columbia University.
As You Like It — Martha H. Shackford, Ph.D., Associate Professor of English Literature, Wellesley College.
Coriolanus — Stuart P. Sherman, Ph.D., Professor of English, Uni- versity of Illinois.
Henry VI, Part I — Louise Pound, Ph.D., Assistant Professor of Eng- lish. University of Nebraska.
Henry VIII — Charles G. Dunlap, Litt.D., Professor of English Lit- erature, University of Kansas.
Comedy of Errors — Frederick Morgan Padelford, Ph.D., Pro- fessor of the English Language and Literature, University of Washington.
In Preparation
King Lear — Virginia C. Gilderslebve, Ph.D., Dean of Barnard College.
The Tempest — Herbert E. Greene, Ph.D., Professor of English, Johns Hopkins University.
Much Ado about Nothing — William W. Lawrence, Ph.D., Associate Professor of English, Columbia University.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona — Martin W. Sampson, A.M., Pro- fessor of English, Cornell University.
Henry VI, Part II — Charles H. Babnwell, Ph.D., Professor of English, University of Alabama.
All's Well that Ends Well — John L. Lowes, Ph.D., Professor of Eng- lish, Washington University, St. Louis.
The Winter's Tale — Lauba J. Wtlie, Ph.D„ Professor of English, Vassar College.
Measure for Measure — Edqab C, Morbis, A.M., Professor of Eng- lish, Syracuse University.
Venus and Adonis, and Lucrece — Cableton Bbown, Ph.D., Pro- fessor of English, Bryn Mawr College.
Richard II — Hardin Craig, Ph.D., Professor of English, University of Minnesota.
King John — Henbt M. Belden, Ph.D., Professor of English, Uni- versity of Missouri.
The Sonnets — Raymond M. Alden, Ph.D., Professor of English, University of Illinois.
Merry Wives of Windsor — Fred P. Emery, A.M., Professor of Rhet- oric and Oratory, Dartmouth College.
Richard III — Geokge B. CntrRCHiLL, Ph.D., Professor of English, Amherst College.
Antony and Cle«t)atra — George Wyllys Benedict, Ph.D., Associate Professor of English, Brown University.
Othello — Thomas M. Parrott, Ph.D., Professor of English, Prince- ton University.
Twelfth Night — Walter Morris Hart, Ph.D., Associate Professor of English, University of California.
Titus Andronicus — Elmer E. Stoll, Ph.D., Assistant Professor of English, Western Reserve University.
Love's Labour's Lost — James F. Roysteb, Ph.D., Professor of Eng- lish, University of North Carolina.
Cymbeline — Will D. Howe, Ph.D., Professor of English, Indiana University. .
Hamlet — George Pierce Baker, A.B., Professor of Dramatic Lit- erature, Harvard University.
Julius Csesar — Robert M. Lovbtt, A.B., Professor of English, University of Chicago.
Henry IV, Part II — Elizabeth Deebing Hanscou, Ph.D., Pro- fessor of English, Smith College.
Pericles — C. Alphonso Smith, Ph.D., Professor of English, Univer- sity of Virginia.
The Taming of the Shrew — Frederick Ttjppbb, Jr., Ph.D., Pro- fessor of English, University of Vermont.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH
»
FREDERICK MORGAN PADELFORD, PH.D.
PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITBRATURB IN THB UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON
{JTfjE Eeit vatH fg t!je Ncilson Ceit copgrigfjtcH m X9O0 bg asailliam 'Elian Neilson
Copgttsfjt, 1912 98g Eljc i^acmtllan Compang
JFiMt etittton of tfjta issue of " Ef)e domeUs of Errora prtnteti iWarcf), 1912
SIntrotiuctfon
Text — The Comedy of Errors first appeared in the Folio of 1623, and upon this version all subsequent edi- tions have been based. As the original text offers few difficulties, relatively little emendation has been neces- sary.
Date of Composition. — Although The Comedy of Er- rors was not printed until 1623, it has been generally regarded as one of the earliest of Shakespeare's plays. The first mention of it Is in the Gesta Grayorum, where it is recorded that on Holy Innocents' Day, 1594, the mem- bers of Gray's Inn having combined with the members of the Inner Temple for purposes of revelry, and the Templars having retired in anger because the affair was mismanaged, for the remainder of the company ** A Comedy of Errors (like to Plautus his Menechmus) was played by the players; so that night began and continued to the end, in nothing but confusion and errors; where- upon it was ever afterwards called the Night of Errors." Later mention of the play is made by Meres in his Palladis Tamia, 1598, where it is included among the six "excel- lent " comedies of Shakespeare.
Two historical references in the play itself help to deter- mine its date. In III. ii. 125-127, Dromio of Syracuse quibblingly alludes to France as "armed and reverted, making war against her heir." This is taken to be an allu-
vii
viii 3|ntroDuction
sion to the civil war in France between Henry of Navarre and the League, which lasted from August, 1589, to July, 1593, and most editors have consequently dated the play in this period. However, as Neilson observes, "Henry of Navarre was heir to the French throne before the death of Henry HI in 1589, and had been at war with France as early as 1585. Thus there is nothing in the passage to prevent this comedy from having come at the very beginning of Shakespeare's career." An early date is also favored by the reference in line 140 of the same scene to Spain sending " whole armadoes of caracks," an evi- dent allusion to the Spanish Armada, 1588. Moreover, the style of the play suggests an early date, for it abounds in the doggerel verse, the quibblings and word-play, and the rimes characteristic of Shakespeare's early period, and is equally marked by an absence of prose and of weak and light endings.
On the other hand, the technic displayed — the rapidity with which the action is pushed along from scene to scene and act to act; the unhesitating sureness of touch with which each scene is itself constructed, the maximum of effect secured quickly and easily ; the nice sense of values and of economy shown in the treatment of character, each character being developed to the precise degree required by the action — speaks for^a mastery far greater than that shown in such attempts at dramatic work as Love's Labour's Lost and The Two Gentlemen of Verona. It must be admitted that technical mastery was much more easily attained in farces of the Plautian type than in romantic comedy, where models were fewer and structure unes-
3|nttotuction ix
tablished by either theory or practice; but, even so, it hardly seems credible that Shakespeare could have com- posed so cramped, and crude a play as The Two Gentlemen of Verona^SiWbT having learned so much of dramatic art as The Comedy of Errors in its present form displays. Unless, therefore, the play was revised some years after the original draft was made, it would seem to be a later play than The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and about con- temporaneous with A Midsummer-Night's Dream and Romeo and Juliet, plays which were written after Shake- speare had learned how to handle a plot, but before he had discarded his early stylistic peculiarities. As The Comedy of Errors does not have the earmarks of a re- vised play, a date certainly not earlier than 1591 is favored.
Sources of the Plot. — The main source of The Comedy of Errors is the Menechmi of Plautus. Plautus, in turn, borrowed the theme from Greek comedy, no less than six Greek authors having written plays in which the comedy was based upon the likeness of twins. Shakespeare may have read the Menechmi in the original, or he may have drawn upon a translation by W. W. (? "William Warner), which, inasmuch as the printer states in his note to the reader that the translator had made the ver- sion " for the use and delight of his private friends," may have existed in manuscript for some years, though not published until 1595. The evidence of obligation is, however, very slender. In the argimient to the transla- tion occurs the couplet,
Father, wife, neighbours, each mistaking either, Much pleasant error, ere they meet together ;
X 3|ntroUuction
and the wife of the citizen complains of her husband that
He makes me a stale and a laughing-stock To all the world,
which resembles the complaint of Adriana that
He breaks the pale, And feeds from home ; poor I am but his stale.
Such similarities as these may well have been accidental, or, in case of indebtedness, the obligation may as well have been on W. W.'s part as on Shakespeare's.
It is possible that Shakespeare drew upon an earlier English play. This supposition finds support in the riming fourteen-syllable lines of the Dromios, and in the stage directions to the first two Acts of the Folio, in which the Antipholi are distinguished as " Antipholus Erotes " and "Antipholus Sereptus." Indeed, a " Historic of Error" was acted at Hampton Court by the children of Paul's " on New Yeres dale at night," 1576-1577. Dyce argues that as the plays acted by the boys were generally founded upon classic stories, the presumption favors the Menechmi as the original of this " Historie of Error," but, on the other hand, it is to be borne in mind that '* error " was a term commonly applied to dramatic actions based upon mistaken identity. It is therefore an open question whether Shakespeare drew upon the Latin play directly or indirectly.
The characters common to the Menechmi and The Comedy of Errors are the two Antipholi (Menechmi),
31ntroliuction xi
Dromio of Syracuse (Messenio), Adriana (Mulier), the Courtezan (Erotium), and Pinch (Medicus). Shake- speare discarded the Parasite, who plays the traditionally important r61e in the Latin comedy, and the cook and maid- servant of the Courtezan. He replaced Senex, the father and counselor of Mulier, by Luciana, the engaging sister of Adriana ; added a second Dromio, who in a measure supplies the place of the Parasite ; and created the char- acters of Solinus, Aegeon, Aemilia, Luce, and the mer- chants.
Comparatively little of the detail is drawn from Plautus. The Dromios resemble the witty slave of the Latin play, and are beaten as lustily, and Pinch cuts much the same ridiculous figiure as the Medicus of Plautus; but there the indebtedness ceases. Shakespeare found the details of the original either too tame to suit his exuberant and prodi- gal fancy, or, because the close atmosphere of Roman libertinism was foreign to the open and candid vulgarity of England, morally uncongenial. The fun and confusion of the Latin play is heightened by the introduction of the second twins, while the conventional shrewishness of Mulier is reduced and the wantonness of the Courtezan minimized. There is added, too, the dignified, but pathetic, introduction, centering around the person of Aegeon ; the romantic denouement in the union of the long- separated family, — a motive, by the way, not entirely foreign to Roman comedy ; and the tender, lyrical love of Antipholus of Syracuse and Luciana.
From another of the plays of Plautus, the Amphitruo, are derived the notion of having two slaves and the scene
xii 31ntrol>uction
in which Antipholus of Ephesus and his Dromio are refused admittance to their own home. In the Latin play, Am- phitruo is kept out of his own house by Merciuy, while Jupiter, the sham Amphitruo, makes merry with Alcmena, the wife.
There is still a third source, which scholars have been slow to recognize, in the old story of Apollonius of Tyre, the fotmdation of Pericles. This story probably was known to Shakespeare from the version in Gower's Con- fessio Amantis, and also from a printed version of 1576, supposedly the same as that published in 1607 by Lau- rence Twine under the title of The Patteme of Paineful Adventures. From this source Shakespeare may have taken the suggestions for the shipwreck, the search of Aegeon, and the unexpected reunion of the family, the wife in each case having taken refuge in a religious house. Probably this story also suggested Ephesus as the scene of the play, for the Menechmi is placed in Epidamnus, and may have suggested the name of the sister, " Lu- ciana," reminiscent of ** Lucina," the wife of Apollonius.
Style. — The Comedy of Errors and The Tempest are the two Shakespearean dramas that cqniorm to the unities of time and place, as well as of action. It is noteworthy that one of these was written near the beginning of Shake- speare's dramatic career, and the other at its very close. In the case of The Tempest, there can be little question that Shakespeare was deliberately observing the unities of time and place, for he kept his eye constantly on the clock and was scrupulously careful to emphasize the time element. It would seem that he was trying to demonstrate
3|ntroi>uction xin
to the classicists that he could beat them at their own game, should he choose to play it. The Winter's Tale, which just precedes The Tempest, may well have provoked their indignation, since there was no other play in which Shakespeare had so completely disregarded the unities. In The Comedy of Errors the time is just as carefully marked, but inasmuch as the play was based upon a Latin comedy in which the unities are strictly observed, it is possible, though not at all probable, that Shakespeare gave no special heed to considerations of time and place. Be that as it may, the play is a most interesting fusion of classical and romantic traditions, accommodating to the pedantic exactions of the tmities and to the realism of Latin comedy, the freshness and pathos, the elasticity and sentiment of romance.
In fact, as a work of art the play ranks very high, much higher than is commonly recognized. The dramatist knows exactly what effects he wishes to produce, and he groduces them with apparent ease. Shakespeare had already felt the pulse of the public: he was sensitive to its craving for variety of incident, its growing fondness for a love story, and its preference for variety of emotional appeal. All of these demands he satisfied, and that with- out destroying the harmony of the play: the first by the introduction of the minor plot — the Aegeon-Aemilia episodes, and by addingTo the main plot a second Dromio, to double the confusion; the second by introducing the gentle Luciana and arranging a graceful scene between her and Antipholus of Syracuse; the third by introducing the play with a patiietic SQpne, to contrast with the broad
xiv ^Introduction
comedy, by intemipting the comedy proper with the love episodes, and finally by concluding the play with a shock of pleasurable surprise. The characterization is rela- tively slight, but this is itself an excellence, for if it had been carried farther, it would have tended to lessen in- terest in the situations, and the situations are the very raison d'etre of farce-comedy. The characterization is always adequate, and the attentive reader will discover agreeable, though not obtrusive, differences even between the characters of the two Antipholi and of the two Dromios. On first reading the play, one is inclined to look some- what askance at the artificial motive of mistaken identity, but it must be borne in mind that this was a convention of Roman comedy, and was accepted by Elizabethans as almost a principle of comic action. Moreover, there is a difference between reading a farce and seeing it, and when this play is actually seen, the situations are so irresistible that incredulity is dispelled, and one gladly accepts the absurdity. The one real blemish is the ex- cessive use of quibble and word-play; however, even this is pleasantly diverting when the play is seen, rather than read. Taken as a whole, The Comedy of Errors well satisfies Aristotle's definition of art, as " A habit of production in conscious accord with a correct method."
Ci^e ComeDt of (Etrotis
[DRAMATIS PERSON/E
SoLiNtrs, duke of Ephesus.
^GEON, a merchant of Syraciise.
Antipholus of Ephesus, ) twin brothers, and sons to JEgeon and
Antipholus of Syracuse, ) Emilia.
Dromio of Ephesus, ) twin brothers, and attendants on the two
Dromio of Syracuse, ) Antipholuses.
Balthazar, a merchant.
Anqelo, a goldsmith.
First Merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse.
Second Merchant, to whom Angelo is a debtor.
PmcH, a schoolmaster.
JEmilia, wife to Mgeon, an abbess at EphesuB. Adriama, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus. Lttciana, her sister. LncE, servant to Adriana. A Courtezan.
Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants. Sosne: Ephesua,]
Ci^e Cometit of cKrrorjs
ACT FIRST Scene I
[A hall in the Duke's palace.]
Enter Duke, j^geon. Gaoler, [Officers,] and other Attend- ants.
Mge. 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. Excludes all pity from our threatening looks. 10 For, since the mortal and intestine jars 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, 3
4 tETije ComeD^ of CBrrortf Act i
It hath in solemn synods been decreed.
Both by the Syracusians and ourselves,
To admit no traflBc to our adverse towns. 15
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, 20
His goods confiscate to the Duke's dispose.
Unless "a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valu'd at the highest rate.
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ; 25
Therefore by law thou art condemn'd to die.
Mge. 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, 30 And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Mge. A heavier task could not have been impos'd Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable ; Yet, that the world may witness that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile oflFence, 35 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 liv'd in joy ; our wealth increas'd 40
Sc. I t!^\)t ComeD^ of €not^ 5
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 45
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 50 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 55
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. 60
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 ; 65
But longer did we not retain much hope ; For what obscured light the heavens did grant
(Tbf Comrtm of errorjf Ad I
Did bat conv^'v unio our fearftii muios A doubtful warrant of imnicdiate death ; Which though mjraelf would gladly have em* brac*d, TO
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife. Weeping before for what she saw must come. And piteous plainings of the pretty babes. That moum'd for fashicm, ignorant what to fear, Forc'd me to sedc delays for them and me. 75 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 bom. Had fastened him unto a small spare mast, 80
Such as seafaring men provide for storms. To him one of the other twins was bound, Wliilst I had been like heedful of the other. The children thus dispos'd. my wife and I, Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 85 Fast'ned 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, Dispers'd those vapours that offended us ; 90
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.
Sc. I tBi}t ComrDi' of Crrowf 7
But oro thoy oaino. — O, let me say no morel Gather tlic nci\nc\ by that went before. 96
Dulr. Xmv. f»)r\var(!. old man: tio not break off so;
For ^vo may pity, thtui^'h not pardon thee. Mge, 0, had tin- go.ls .lone so. I had not now
Worthily IcnuM tliciii nu'nilt>ss to us! 100
For. crc the ships could mod by twice five
lc;ii',iU'S.
W(> wcit" (MHiumt'rod by a mighty rock;
>Vhioh being violently borne upon.
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst;
So tliat. in this unjust divoree of us, 105
Fortuiu> liMti left to hoth .>f us alike
What to ilt<li;:ht in. what to sorrow for.
lltM- part. junM- soul ! seeniuii^ as hurdeiu^l
With lesser w (Ms^ht but not with lesser woe.
Was larried with more si><M>d before^ the wind; 110
And in lUir si^ht they {\\vcc wcvc t.iken up
Hy tishornu-n o( Cov'uxiU. as \m> thought.
At lenjjtii, anotluM- ship had sei.-M on US »
An.!. kiun\ ing wjunn it \Nas tlu-ir hap tO MVOt
(.iave healthful weKH>me to their shipwrCckM
guests ; 114
And woidd have rt»ft the fishers (>f their prt»y. Had not their hark In^Mi very slow of sail ; And therefi»re homeward did they InMid thdtr
course. Thus have you heard me severed from my bliaa.
8 tUui^t ComeD^ of €not& Act i
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd 120 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 befallen of them and thee till now.
^ge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, 125 At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother ; and importun'd me That his attendant — so his case was like. Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name — Might bear him company in the quest of him ; 130 Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see, I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ; 135 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. Could all my travels warrant me they live. 140
Duke. Hapless ^geon, 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, Which princes, would they, may not disannul, 145 My soul should sue as advocate for thee. But, though thou art adjudged to the death.
sc. 11 tETlje ComeD^ of Crrortf 9
And passed sentence may not be recall'd
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet I will favour thee in what I can. 150
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day
To seek thy life by beneficial help.
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus ;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live ; if no, then thou art doom'd to die. 155
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Gaol. I will, my lord.
^ge. Hopeless and helpless doth ^geon wend.
But to procrastinate his lifeless end. Exeunt.
Scene II
[The mart.]
Enter Antipholtis of Syracuse, Dromio of Syracuse, and First Merchant.
1. Mer. Therefore give out you are of Epidamnupi, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day a Syracusian merchant Is apprehended for arrival here ; And, not being able to buy out his life 5
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.
lo tETJe ComeDi? of €ttot& Act i
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 10 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. For with long travel I am stiff and weary. 15
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,
When I am dull with care and melancholy, 20
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 ?
1. Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants.
Of whom I hope to make much benefit ; 25
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.
Ant. S. Farewell till then. I will go lose myself, 30 And wander up and down to view the city.
1. 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. I to the world am like a drop of water 35
That in the ocean seeks another drop. Who, falling there to find his fellow forth.
Sc. II ^^t ComeU^ of €notsi n
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself.
So I, to find a mother and a brother.
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 40
Enter Dromio of Efhesus.
Here comes the almanac of my true date. What now? How chance thou art returned so soon ?
Dro. E. Return 'd so soon ! rather approach'd too late. The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit. The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell ; 45 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 ; You have no stomach having broke your fast ; 50 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 ?
Dro. E. O, — sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ? 56 The saddler had it, sir ; I kept it not.
-471^. S. I am not in a sportive humour now. Tell me, and dally not, where is the money ? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust 60 So great a charge from thine own custody ?
13 tETlje CotneD^ of €ttot& Act i
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. For she will score your fault upon my pate. 65 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. Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee .'* 70
Dro. E. To me, sir ? Why, you gave no gold to me.
Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolish- ness And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner. 75 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 That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd. 80 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. If I should pay your worship those again, 85
Perchance you will not bear them patiently.
Sc. II W^t Cornell)? of errors 13
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks ? What mistress, slave, hast thou ?
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phcenix ; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner. And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. 90
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.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other 95 The villain is o'erraught 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. Soul-killing witches that deform the body, 100
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 ; 104
I greatly fear my money is not safe. Exit.
ACT SECOND Scene I
[The house of Antipholus of Ephesus.] Enter Adriana and Luciana.
Adr. Neither my husband nor the slave return 'd. That in such haste I sent to seek his master ! Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.
Luc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited him
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine and never fret. 6
A man is master of his liberty. Time is their master, and when they see time They'll go or come ; if so, be patient, sister.
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more ? 10
Luc. Because their business still lies out o' door.
Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
Luc. O, know he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so.
Zt^. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. 15 There's nothing situate under heaven's eye But hath his bound ; in earth, in sea, in sky. The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls Are their males' subjects and at their controls ; M
Sc. I tET^ie ComeD^ of €ttot& 15
Man, more divine, the master of all these, 20
Lord of the wide world and wild watery seas, Indu'd with intellectual sense and souls, Of more preeminence than fish and fowls. Are masters to their females, and their lords : Then let your will attend on their accords. 25
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where .'* 30
Luc. Till he came home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience unmov'd ! no marvel though she pause. They can be meek that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity. We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry ; 35
But were we burd'ned with like weight of pain. As much or more we should ourselves complain ; So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve
thee, With urging helpless patience would relieve me ; But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 40
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.
Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try.
Here comes your man ; now is your husband nigh.
i6 W^^t ComeD^ of CDrrorsf Act ii
Enter Dromio of Epkesus.
Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand ?
Dro. E. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that 45
my two ears can witness. Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him ? Know'st
thou his mind ? Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel 50
his meaning ? Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well
feel his blows ; and withal so doubtfully that
I could scarce understand them. Adr. But say, I prithee, is he coming home ? It 55
seems he hath great care to please his wife. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain ! Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ;
But, sure, he is stark mad.
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, 60
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold.
"'Tis dinner-time," quoth I; "My gold," quoth he.
"Your meat doth burn," quoth I; "My gold!" quoth he.
"Will you come home?" quoth I; "My gold!" quoth he.
Sc. I tETtie ComeD^ of dBrrorsi 17
"Where is the thousand marks I gave thee,
villain?" 65
"The pig," quoth I, "is burn'd ;" "My gold !"
quoth he. "My mistress, sir," quoth I; "Hang up thy
mistress ! I know not thy mistress. Out on thy mistress !" Luc. Quoth who ?
Dro. E. Quoth my master. 70
"I know," quoth he, "no house, no wife, no
mistress." So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders ; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. 75
Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home ?
For God's sake, send some other messenger. Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other beating. Between you I shall have a holy head. 80
Adr. Hence, prating peasant ! Fetch thy master
home. Dro. E. Am I so round with you as you with me. That like a football you do spurn me thus ? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither. If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. [Exit]
c
i8 tETI^e ComeD^ of dBrrorsf Act ii
Luc. Fie, how impatience loureth in your face ! 86
Adr. His company must do his minions grace. Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? Then he hath wasted it. 90
Are my discourses dull ? Barren my wit ? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, TJnkindness blunts it more than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his aflFections bait ? That's not my fault ; he's master of my state. 95 What ruins are in me that can be found By him not ruin'd ? Then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair. But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale 100
And feeds from home ; poor I am but his stale.
Luc. Self-harming jealousy ! fie, beat it hence !
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere. Or else what lets it but he would be here ? 105
Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain ; Would that alone, alone he would detain. So he would keep fair quarter with his bed ! I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty ; and tho' gold bides still 110 That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold ; and no man that hath a name.
Sc. II tETl^e ComeD^ of d^rrors; 19
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. 115 Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy ?
Exeunt.
Scene II
[A 'public place.]
Enter Antipholus of Syracuse.
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur ; and the heedful slave Is wand'red forth, in care to seek me out. By computation and mine host's report, I could not speak with Dromio since at first 5 I sent him from the mart. See, here he comes.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
How now, sir ! is your merry humour alter'd ?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur ? You receiv'd no gold ? 9
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner ?
My house was at the Phoenix ? Wast thou mad.
That thus so madly thou didst answer me ? Dro.S. What answer, sir ? When spake I such a word? Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since. Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence, 15
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
20 tETlje Cornell^ of €noti Act ii
Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner ; For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.
Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein. 20 What means this jest ? I pray you, master, tell me.
Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth ?
Think'st thou I jest ? Hold, take thou that, and
that. Beats Dro.
Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake ! Now your jest is earnest. Upon what bargain do you give it me ? 25
Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool and chat with you. Your sauciness will jest upon my love And make a common of my serious hours. When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport. But creep in crannies when he hides his beams. 31 If you will jest with me, know my aspect And fashion your demeanour to my looks. Or I will beat this method in your sconce.
Dro. S. Sconce call you it ? So you would leave 35 battering, I had rather have it a head. An you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head and insconce it too, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I beaten ? 40
Ant. S. Dost thou not know ?
Sc. II t!Pl)0 ComeD^ of €noti ai
Dro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten.
Ant. S. Shall I tell you why ?
Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore ; for they say
every why hath a wherefore. 45
Ant. S. Why, first, — for flouting me ; and then, wherefore, —
For urging it the second time to me. Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season,
When in the why and the wherefore is neither rhyme nor reason ?
Well, sir, I thank you. 50
Ant. S. Thank me, sir ! For what ? Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you
gave me for nothing. Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you
nothing for something. But say, sir, is it 55
dinner-time ? Dro. S. No, sir. I think the meat wants that I have. Ant. S. In good time, sir ; what's that ? Dro. S. Basting.
Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. 60
Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of it. Ant. S. Your reason ? Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric and purchase
me another dry basting. Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time. 65
There's a time for all things.
aa tl^\)t Comm^ of €ttOt& Act II
Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before you were
so choleric. AiU. S. By what rule, sir ? Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the 70
plain bald pate of father Time himself. Ant. S. Let's hear it. Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his
hair that grows bald by nature. Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery ? 75 Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig and recover
the lost hair of another man. Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being,
as it is, so plentiful an excrement ? Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows 80
on beasts ; and what he hath scanted men in
hair he hath given them in wit. Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more
hair than wit. Dro. S. Not a man of those but he hath the wit 85
to lose his hair. Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain
dealers without wit. Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost ; yet
he loseth it in a kind of jollity. 90
Ant. S. For what reason ? Dro. S. For two ; and sound ones too. Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. Dro. S. Sure ones, then.
5c. II t!^\)t Conteti^ of €not& 23
Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 95
Dro. S. Certain ones, then.
Ant. S. Name them.
Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends
in tiring ; the other, that at dinner, they
should not drop in his porridge. 100
Ant. S. You would all this time have prov'd there
is no time for all things. Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir ; namely, no time to
recover hair lost by nature. Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, why 105
there is no time to recover. Dro. S. Thus I mend it : Time himself is bald
and therefore to the world's end will have
bald followers. Ant. S. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion. — 110
But, soft ! who wafts us yonder ?
Enter Adriana and Luciana.
Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown, Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects ; I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once when thou unurg'd wouldst vow 115
That never words were music to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand. That never meat sweet-savour 'd in thy taste.
34 tir^e Cottteti^ of errors? Act ii
Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch 'd, or carv'd to thee. 120
How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it. That thou art then estranged from thyself ? Thyself I call it, being strange to me. That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear self's better part. 125
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ! For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulf And take unmingled thence that drop again. Without addition or diminishing, 130
As take from me thyself and not me too. How dearly would it touch thee to the quick Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious. And that this body, consecrate to thee. By ruflSan lust should be contaminate ! 135
Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me. And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stain 'd skin oflP my harlot-brow. And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ? 140
I know thou canst ; and therefore see thou do it. I am possess 'd with an adulterate blot ; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust ; For if we two be one and thou play false, I do digest the poison of thy flesh, 146
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
A
Sc. n ^^t ComeU^ of €not& 25
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed;
I live distain'd, thou undishonoured. Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame ? I know you not.
In Ephesus I am but two hours old, 150
As strange unto your town as to your talk ;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd.
Wants wit in all one word to understand. Luc. Fie, brother ! how the world is chang'd with you!
When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 155
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. Ant. S. By Dromio ? Dro. S. By me ? Adr. By thee ; and this thou didst return from him.
That he did buffet thee, and in his blows 160
Denied my house for his, me for his wife. Ant. S. Did you converse, sir^ with this gentlewoman ?
What is the course and drift of your compact ? Dro. iS. I, sir ? I never saw her till this time. Ant. S. Villain, thou liest ; for even her very words 165
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life. Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our names.
Unless it be by inspiration ? Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity 170
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave.
36 tETlje Cometi^ of d^rrotfli Act ii
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ! Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine. 175
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine. Whose weakness married to thy stronger state Makes me with thy strength to communicate. If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss ; 180
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks ; she moves me for her theme. What, was I married to her in my dream ? Or sleep I now and think I hear all this ? 185
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ? Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offer 'd fallacy.
Ltic. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
Dro. S. O, for my beads ! I cross me for a sinner. 190 This is the fairy land. O spite of spites ! We talk with goblins, owls, and sprites. If we obey them not, this will ensue. They'll suck our breath or pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself and answer'st not ? 195
Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot !
Sc. 11 tlTlie ComeU^ of d^rrorsf 27
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I ?
Ant. S. I think thou art in mind, and so am I.
Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.
Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form.
Dro. S. No, I am an ape.
Ltic. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. 201
Dro. S. 'Tis true ; she rides me and I long for grass. 'Tis so, I am an ass ; else it could never be But I should know her as well as she knows me.
Adr. Come, come ; no longer will I be a fool, 205
To put the finger in the eye and weep, Wliilst man and master laughs my woes to scorn. Come, sir, to dinner. Dromio, keep the gate. Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks. 210 Sirrah, if any ask you for your master. Say he dines forth and let no creature enter. Come, sister. Dromio, play the porter well.
Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell ?
Sleeping or waking ? Mad or well-advis'd ? 215 Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd ! I'll say as they say and persever so, And in this mist at all adventures go.
Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ?
Adr. Ay ; and let none enter, lest I break your pate. 220
Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late.
[Exeunt]
ACT THIRD Scene I
[Before the house of Antipholtis of Ephesus.]
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, Dromio of Ephesus, An- gelo, the goldsmith, and Balthazar, the merchant.
Ant. E. Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all ; My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours. Say that I linger'd with you at your shop To see the making of her carcanet. And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 5
But here's a villain that would face me down He met me on the mart, and that I beat him And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold. And that I did deny my wife and house. Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by
this ? 10
Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I
know. That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand
to show. If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave
were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I
think,
38
sc. I tETlie Cornet)^ of Crrortf ^
Ant. E. I think thou art an ass.
Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear
By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. 16 I should kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that
pass, You would keep from my heels and beware of an ass. Ant. E. You're sad, Signior Balthazar ; pray God our cheer May answer my good will and your good welcome here. 20
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome
dear. Ant. E. O, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table-full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, sir, is common ; that every churl
affords. Ant. E. And welcome more common ; for that's nothing but words. 25
B(d. Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry
feast. Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host and more sparing guest ; But though my cates be mean, take them in good
part ; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.
30 tlT^e ComrD^ of €notsi Act iii
But, soft ! my door is lock'd. Go bid them let
us in. 30
Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian,
Ginn ! Dro. S. [Within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb,
idiot, patch ! Either get thee from the door or sit down at the
hatch. Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st
for such store When one is one too many ? Go get thee from
the door. 35
Dro. E. What patch is made our porter ? My master
stays in the street. Dro. S. [Within.] Let him walk from whence he
came, lest he catch cold on 's feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there ? Ho, open the
door ! Dro. S. [Within.] Right, sir ; I'll tell you when, an
you'll tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore ? For my dinner. I have not
din'd to-day. 40
Dro. S. [Within.] Nor to-day here you must not,
come again when you may. Ant. E. What art thou that keep'st me out from the
house I owe ^ Dro. S. [Within.] The porter for this time, sir, and
my name is Dromio.
sc. I ^^t ComeD^ of Crrorsi 31
Dro. E. O villain ! thou hast stolen both mine office
and my name. The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle
blame. 45
If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name,
or thy name for an ass.
Enter Luce [within]. Luce. [Within.] What a coil is there, Dromio? Who
are those at the gate ? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce. [Within.] Faith, no ; he comes too late ;
And so tell your master. Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh !
Have at you with a proverb — Shall I set in my
staff ? 51
Luce. [Within.] Have at you with another ; that's —
When ? Can you tell ? Dro. S. [Within.] If thy name be called Luce, — Luce,
thou hast answer'd him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion ? You'll let us in,
I hope ? Luce. [Within.] I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. S. [Within.] And you said no.
Dro. E. So, come, help : well struck ! there was
blow for blow. 56
Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in.
33 ^^t ComeD^ of €tXOXi Act III
Luce. [Within.] Can you tell for whose sake ?
Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luce. [Within.] Let him knock till it ache.
Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door
down. Lvjce. [Within.] What needs all that, and a pair of
stocks in the town ? 60
Enter Adriana [vyiihin\.
Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door that keeps all
this noise ? Dro. S. [Within.] By my troth, your town is troubled
with unruly boys. Ant. E. Are you there, wife ? You might have come
before. Adr. [Within.] Your wife, sir knave ! Go, get you
from the door. Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would
go sore. 65
Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome ; we would
fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part with
neither. Dro. E. They stand at the door, master ; bid them
welcome hither. Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we can- not get in.
Sc. I turtle ComeD^ of €ttoxsi 33
Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments
were thin. 70
Your cake here is warm within ; you stand here
in the cold. It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so
bought and sold. Ant. E. Go fetch me something ; I'll break ope the
gate. Dro. S. [Within.] Break any breaking here, and I'll
break your knave's pate. Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir, and
words are but wind, 75
Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not
behind. Dro. S. [Within.] It seems thou want'st breaking.
Out upon thee, hind ! Dro. E. Here's too much "out upon thee !" I pray
thee, let me in. Dro. S. [Within.] Ay, when fowls have no feathers,
and fish have no fin. Ant. E. Well, I'll break in ; go borrow me a crow. 80 Dro. E. A crow without feather ? Master, mean you
so? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a
feather. If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow
together. Ant. E. Go, get thee gone ; fetch me an iron crow.
D
34 ^^t ComeD^ of Crrorsf Act in
Bed. Have patience, sir ; O, let it not be so ! 85
Herein you war against your reputation And draw within the compass of suspect The un violated honour of your wife. Once this, — your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 90
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you. Be rul'd by me ; depart in patience. And let us to the Tiger all to dinner ; 95
And about evening come yourself alone To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it, 100
And that supposed by the common rout Against your yet ungalled estimation That may with foul intrusion enter in And dwell upon your grave when you are dead ; For slander lives upon succession, 105
For ever hous'd where't gets possession.
Ant. E. You have prevail'd. I will depart in quiet. And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. I know a wench of excellent discourse. Pretty and witty, wild, and yet, too, gentle. 110 There will we dine. This woman that I mean, My wife — but, I protest, without desert —
Sc. II ^\)t ComeD^ of Crrorsf 35
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal.
To her will we to dinner. [To Aug.] Get you home
And fetch the chain ; by this I know 'tis made.
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine ; 116
For there's the house. That chain will I bestow —
Be it for nothing but to spite my wife —
Upon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste.
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 120
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.
Ang. I'll meet you at that place some hour hence.
Ant. E. Do so. This jest shall cost me some ex- pense. Exeunt.
Scene il
[The same.]
Enter Ludana and Antipholus of Syracuse.
Lux;. And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's oflSce ? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot ?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous ? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 5
Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness ; Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ;
Muffle your false love with some show of blind- ness;
36 Slje ComeD^ of dBrrotflf Act iii
Let not my sister read it in your eye ;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator ; 10 Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger ; Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ; Be secret-false. What need she be acquainted ? 15
What simple thief brags of his own attaint ? 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed
And let her read it in thy looks at board. Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ;
111 deeds is doubled with an evil word. 20
Alas, poor women ! make us but believe.
Being compact of credit, that you love us ; Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve ;
We in your motion turn and you may move us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again ; 25
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife. 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain.
When the sweet breath of jflattery conquers strife. Ant. S. Sweet mistress, — what your name is else, I know not.
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine, — 30 Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak ;
Lay open to my earthy, gross conceit.
Sc. II ^\)t ComeD^ of €ttotsi 37
Smoth'red in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, 35
The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field ? Are you a god ? Would you create me new ?
Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. 40 But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage do I owe. ( Far more, far more to you do I decline. O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, 45 \ To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears, ping, siren, for thyself, and I will dote ;
Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed I'll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think 50
He gains by death that hath such means to die. Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink ! Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so ? Ant. S. Not mad, but mated ; how, I do not know. Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye. 55
Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will clear your sight. Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. Luc. Why call you me love ? Call my sister so. Ant. S. Thy sister's sister. Luc. That's my sister.
Ant. S. No ;
38 tirtie ComeD^ of €ttoti Act in
j It is thyself, mine own self's better part, 61
I Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart.
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim.
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. 65
Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee.
Thee will I love and with thee lead my life ;
Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand. Luc. O, soft, sir ! hold you still. 69
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. Exit.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio ! Where runn'st
thou so fast ? Dro. S. Do you know me, sir ? Am I Dromio ?
Am I your man ? Am I myself ? Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou 75
art thyself. Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and
besides myself. Ant. S. What woman's man, and how besides
thyself ? 80
Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a
woman ; one that claims me, one that haunts
me, one that will have me. Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee ? Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay 85
Sc. II ^^t ComeU^ of (Brrorsf 39
to your horse ; and she would have me as a beast : not that, I being a beast, she would have me ; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me.
Ant S. What is she ? 90
Dro. S. A very reverend body ; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of without he say "Sir- reverence.' ' I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.
Ant. S. How dost thou mean a fat marriage ? 95
Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen wench and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter. 100 If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Ant. S. What complexion is she of ?
Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing
like so clean kept : for why, she sweats ; a 105 man may go over shoes in the grime of it.
Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend.
Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain ; Noah's flood could not do it.
Ant. S. What's her name ? 110
Dro. S. Nell, sir ; but her name and three quar- ters, that's an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.
40 t!i^\)t ComeDp of €tVOtSi Act III
Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth ?
Dro. S. No longer from head to foot than from 115
hip to hip. She is spherical, like a globe ; I
could find out countries in her. Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ire- land ? Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks ; I found it 120
out by the bogs. Ant. S. Where Scotland ? Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness ; hard in
the palm of the hand. Ant. S. Where France ? 125
Dro. S. In her forehead ; armed and reverted,
making war against her heir. Ant. S. Where England ? Dro. S. I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could
find no whiteness in them ; but I guess it 130
stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that
ran between France and it. Ant. S. Where Spain ? Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not ; but I felt it hot in
her breath. 135
Ant. S. Where America, the Indies ? Dro. S. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished
with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining
their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain ;
who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be 140
ballast at her nose.
Sc. II Xl^^t ComeD^ of €ttotsi 41
Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ?
Dro. S. Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To con- clude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me ; called me Dromio ; swore I was assur'd 145 to her ; told me what privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amaz'd, ran from her as a witch. And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith and my heart of steel, 150
She had transform'd me to a curtal dog and made me turn i' the wheel.
Ant S. Go, hie thee presently post to the road ; An if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town to-night. If any bark put forth, come to the mart, 155
Where I will walk till thou return to me. If every one knows us and we know none, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life, 159 So fly I from her that would be my wife. Eodt,
Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here ; And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence. She that doth call me husband, even my soul Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, 165 Of such enchanting presence and discourse. Hath almost made me traitor to myself.
42 tEPl)e ComeO^ of dBrrorisi Act in
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.
Enter Angela with the chain.
Ang. Master Antipholus, —
Ard. S. Ay, that's my name.
Ang. I know it well, sir ; lo, here is the chain. 171
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine ; The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.
Ant. S. What is your will that I shall do with this ?
Ang. What please yourself, sir ; I have made it for you. 175
Ant. S. Made it for me, sir ! I bespoke it not.
Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. Go home with it and please your wife withal ; And soon at supper-time I'll visit you And then receive my money for the chain. 180
Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now. For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more.
Ang. You are a merry man, sir ; fare you well. Exit.
Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell ; But this I think, there's no man is so vain 185
That would refuse so fair an offer' d chain. I see a man here needs not live by shifts, When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. I'll to the mart and there for Dromio stay. 189 If any ship put out, then straight away. Exit.
ACT FOURTH
Scene I
[A public place.]
Enter Second Merchant, Angela, and an Officer,
S. Mer. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importun'd you ; Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia and want guilders for my voyage. Therefore make present satisfaction, 5
Or I'll attach you by this officer.
Ang. Even just the sum that I do owe to you Is growing to me by Antipholus, And in the instant that I met with you He had of me a chain. At five o'clock 10
I shall receive the money for the same. Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, I will discharge my bond and thank you too.
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus from the courtezan's.
Off. That labour may you save ; see where he comes.
Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou 15 And buy a rope's end ; that will I bestow Among my wife and her confederates, 43
44 ^^t ComeD^ of (Errors; Act iv
For locking me out of my doors by day. But, soft ! I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone. Buy thou a rope and bring it home to me. 20
Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year ! I buy a rope ! ExiL
Ant. E. A man is well holp up that trusts to you. I promised your presence and the chain, But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. Belike you thought our love would last too long, 25 If it were chain'd together, and therefore came not.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat. The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion, Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 30 Than I stand debted to this gentleman. I pray you, see him presently discharg'd. For he is bound to sea and stays but for it.
Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present money ; Besides, I have some business in the town. 35
Good signior, take the stranger to my house ; And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof. Perchance I will be there as soon as you.
Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself ? 40
Ant. E. No ; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.
Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you ?
Sc. I tH^lje ComeD^ of Crror^ 45
Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have.
Or else you may return without your money. Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain. 45
Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman.
And I, to blame, have held him here too long. Ant. E. Good Lord ! you use this dalliance to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine.
I should have chid you for not bringing it, 50
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. S. Mer. The hour steals on ; I pray you, sir, dispatch. Ang. You hear how he importunes me ; — the chain ! Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money. Ang. Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. 55
Either send the chain or send by me some token. Ant. E. Fie, now you run this humour out of breath.
Come, where's the chain ? I pray you, let me see it. S. Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance.
Good sir, say whether you'll answer me or no ; 60
If not, I'll leave him to the officer. Ant. E. I answer you ! What should I answer you ? Ang. The money that you owe me for the chain. Ant. E. I owe you none till I receive the chain. Ang. You know I gave it you half an hour since. 65 Ant. E. You gave me none ; you wrong me much to
say so. Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it.
Consider how it stands upon my credit.
4^ tET^e CameD^ of €ttot£i Act iv
S. Mer. Well, oflScer, arrest him at my suit. Off. I do ; and charge you in the Duke's name to obey me. 70
Ang. This touches me in reputation.
Either consent to pay this sum for me
Or I attach you by this officer. Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had !
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. 75
Ang, Here is thy fee ; arrest him, officer.
I would not spare my brother in this case.
If he should scorn me so apparently. Off. I do arrest you, sir : you hear the suit. Ant. E. I do obey thee till I give thee bail. 80
But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear
As all the metal in your shop will answer. Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame ; I doubt it not.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse, from the bay.
Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum 85
That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage,
sir, I have convey'd aboard, and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae. The ship is in her trim ; the merry wind 90
Blows fair from land ; they stay for nought at all But for their owner, master, and yourself.
Sc. I tET^ie ComeD^ of €ttot^ 47
Ant E. How now ! a madman ! Why, thou peevish sheep,
What ship of Epidamnum stays for me ? Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. 95
Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope.
And told thee to what purpose and what end. Dro. S. You sent me for a rope's end as soon.
You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure, 100
And teach your ears to list me with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight ;
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry
There is a purse of ducats ; let her send it. 105
Tell her I am arrested in the street
And that shall bail me. Hie thee, slave, be
gone
On, oflScer, to prison till it come.
Exeunt [2. Merchant^ Angela, Officer, and Ant. E.]. Dro. S. To Adriana ! That is where we din'd.
Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband. 1 10 She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, For servants must their masters' minds fulfil.
Exit.
48 ^\)t ComeD^ of Crrotfli Act iv
Scene II
[The house of Antipholus of Ephesus.] Enter Adriana and Luciana.
Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so ?
Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest ? Yea or no ? Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily ?
What observation mad'st thou in this case 5
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face ? Luc. First he deni'd you had in him no right. Adr. He meant he did me none ; the more my spite. Lv€. Then swore he that he was a stranger here. Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. Luc. Then pleaded I for you.
Adr. And what said he ? 11
Lu^. That love I begg'd for you he begg'd of me. Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love ? Luc. With words that in an honest suit might move.
First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. 15 Adr. Didst speak him fair ?
Luc. Have patience, I beseech.
Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
Hl-fac'd, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere ; 20
Sc. II ^\)t Cometi^ of Crrorsf 49
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one ?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. Adr. Ah, but I think him better than I say, 25
And yet would herein others' eyes were worse. Farjrom her nest the lapwing cries away.
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.
Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Here ! go ; the desk, the purse ! Sweet, now,
make haste. Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath ? Dro. S. By running fast.
Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio ? Is he well ? 31 Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell. A devil in an everlasting garment hath him ; One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel ; A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ; 35
A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff ; A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that coun- termands The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ; A hound that runs counter and yet draws dry-foot
well ; One that before the judgement carries poor souls to hell. 40
so ^^t ComeD^ of €ttot^ Act. iv
Adr. Why, man, what is the matter ?
Dro. S. I do not know the matter ; he is 'rested on the
case. Adr. What, is he arrested ? Tell me at whose suit. Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested well ; But he's in a suit of buff which 'rested him, that can I tell. 45
Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk ? Adr. Go fetch it, sister. This I wonder at.
Exit Luciana. That he, unknown to me, should be in debt. Tell me, was he arrested on a band ? Dro. S. Not on a band but on a stronger thing, 50
A chain, a chain ! Do you not hear it ring ? Adr. What, the chain ?
Dro. S. No, no, the bell ; 'tis time that I were gone.
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes
one.
Adr. The hours come back ! That did I never hear. 55
Dro. S. O, yes ; if any hour meet a sergeant, 'a turns
back for very fear. Adr. As if Time were in debt ! How fondly dost thou
reason ! Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt and owes more than he's worth to season. Nay, he's a thief too ; have you not heard men say, That Time comes stealing on by night and day ? 60
Sc. Ill W^t Cornell^ of d^rrorsf 51
If 'a be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in
the way. Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ?
Re-enter Luciana
Adr. Go, Dromio ; there's the money, bear it straight, And bring thy master home immediately. Come, sister ; I am press'd down with conceit — Conceit, my comfort and my injury. 66
Exeunt,
SCENE III
[A public place.]
Enter Antipholv^ of Syracuse.
Ant. S. There's not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend ; And every one doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me ; some invite me ; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ; 5
Some offer me commodities to buy. Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop And show'd me silks that he had bought for
me And therewithal took measure of my body. Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, 10
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.
s> tir^e Come0^ of €notsi Act iv
Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new-appareird ?
Ant. S. What gold is this ? What Adam dost thou mean ? 15
Dro. S. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison ; he that goes in the calf's skin that was kill'd for the Prodigal ; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your Uberty. 20
Ant. S. I understand thee not.
Dro. S. No ? Why, 'tis a plain case : he that went, like a bass-viol, in a case of leather ; the man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a bob and 'rests them ; he, sir, that 25 takes pity on decayed men and gives them suits of durance ; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike.
Ant. S. What, thou mean'st an officer ?
Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band ; he 30 that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band ; one that thinks a man always going to bed and says, God give you good rest !
Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery.
Is there any ship puts forth to-night ? May 35 we be gone ?
Sc. Ill tET^ie ComeU^ of €ttoti 53
Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the bark Expedition put forth to- night ; and then were you hind'red by the ser- geant, to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here are 40 the angels that you sent for to deliver you.
Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I ; And here we wander in illusions. Some, blessed power deliver us from hence !
Enter a Courtezan.
Cow. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. 45
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now. Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day .'*
Ant. S. Satan, avoid ! I charge thee, tempt me not.
Dro. S. Master, is this Mistress Satan ?
Ant. S. It is the devil. 50
Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench ; and thereof comes that the wenches say, "God damn me ;" that's as much to say, God make me a light wench. It is written, 55 they appear to men like angels of light ; light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn ; ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her.
Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner here ? 60
54 ^\)t ComeD^ of errors Act iv
Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat ; or
bespeak a long spoon. Ant. S. Why, Dromio ? Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon that
must eat with the devil. 65
Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend ! What tell'st thou me of supping ?
Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress.
I conjure thee to leave me and be gone. Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd, 70
And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. Dro. S. Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone ;
But she, more covetous, would have a chain. 75
Master, be wise ; an if you give it her.
The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it. Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain.
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so ? Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch ! Come, Dromio, let us go. 80
Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock : mistress, that you know.
Exeunt [Ant. S. and Dro. S.]. Cour. Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad.
Else would he never so demean himself.
Sc. IV (irtie ComeD^ of €vtotii 55
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats. And for the same he promis'd me a chain. 85
Both one and other he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage. Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner, Of his own doors being shut against his en- trance. Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, 91
On purpose shut the doors against his way. My way is now to hie home to his house, And tell his wife that, being lunatic. He rush'd into my house and took perforce 95
My ring away. This course I fittest choose ; For forty ducats is too much to lose. [Exit.]
Scene IV
[A street.]
Enter Antipholus of Epkesus and the Officer.
Ant. E. Fear me not, man ; I will not break away. I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money. To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood to-day. And will not lightly trust the messenger. 5
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus, I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears.
56 W^t ComeU^ of errors Act iv
Enter Dromio of Epkesus with a rope's-end.
Here comes my man ; I think he brings the money.
How now, sir ! have you that I sent you for ? Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all. 10
Ant. E. But where's the money ? Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope .'* Dro. E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home ? 15 Dro. E. To a rope's end, sir ; and to that end am
I return'd. Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.
[Beating him.] Off. Good sir, be patient. Dro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient ; I am in 20
adversity. Off. Good, now, hold thy tongue. Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his
hands. Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain ! 25
Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might
not feel your blows. Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows,
and so is an ass. Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed ; you may prove it 30
by my long 'ears. I have served him from
Sc. IV ^\)t ComeD^ of Crrorsi 57
the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating ; when I am warm, he cools me with 35 beating : I am wak'd with it when I sleep ; rais'd with it when I sit ; driven out of doors with it when I go from home ; welcom'd home with it when I return : nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat ; and, I 40 think, when he hath lam'd me, I shall beg with it from door to door.
Enter Adriana, Ludana, the Courtezan, and a School- master calVd Pinch.
Ant. E. Come, go along ; my wife is coming yonder. Dro. E. Mistress, resjnce finem, respect your end ;
or rather, to prophesy like the parrot, "beware 45
the rope's-end." Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk ? [Beating him.]
Cour. How say you now ? Is not your husband
mad ? Adr. His incivility confirms no less.
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer ; 50
Establish him in his true sense again.
And I will please you what you will demand. Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks ! Cour. Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy ! Pinch. Give me your hand and let me feel your pulse.
58 tIPtje Content of <lI;rrorflf Act iv
Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear. 56
[Striking him.]
Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man. To yield possession to my holy prayers And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight. I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven ! 60
Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace ! I am not mad.
Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul !
Ant. E. You minion, you, are these your customers ? Did this companion with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house to-day, 65
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut And I denied to enter in my house ?
Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home ; Where would you had remain'd until this time. Free from these slanders and this open shame ! 70
Ant. E. Din'd at home ! Thou villain, what sayest thou ?
Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home.
Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up and I shut out ?
Dro. E. Perdie, your doors were lock'd and you shut out.
Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there? 75
Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself revil'd you there.
Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me ?
Dro. E. Certes, she did ; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you.
sc. IV t!rt)e Comeu^ of €not& 59
Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from thence ? Dro. E. In verity you did ; my bones bear witness, 80
That since have felt the vigour of his rage. Adr. Is't good to soothe him in these contraries ? Pinch. It is no shame. The fellow finds his vein,
And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy. Ant. E. Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me. 85
Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem you.
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. Dro. E. Money by me ! Heart and good-will you might.
But surely, master, not a rag of money. Ant. E. Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats ? Adr. He came to me and I deliver'd it. 91
Luc. And I am witness with her that she did. Dro. E. God and the rope-maker bear me witness
That I was sent for nothing but a rope ! Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is possess' d ;
I know it by their pale and deadly looks. 96
They must be bound and laid in some dark room. Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to- day ?
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold ? Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. 100 Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv'd no gold ;
But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both.
6o ^\)t ComeU^ of C^rrord Act iv
Ant. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all
And art confederate with a damned pack 105
To make a loathsome abject scorn of me ; But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes That would behold in me this shameful sport.
Enter three or four, and offer to bind him. He strives.
Adr. O, bind him, bind him ! Let him not come near
me. Pinch. More company ! The fiend is strong within him. 110
Luc. Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks ! Ant. E. What, will you murder me ? Thou gaoler, thou,
I am thy prisoner. Wilt thou suffer them
To make a rescue ? Off. Masters, let him go. 114
He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. Pinch. Go bind this man, for he is frantic too.
[They offer to bind Dro. E.] Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer ?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himself ^ Off. He is my prisoner ; if I let him go, 120
The debt he owes will be requir'd of me. Adr. I will discharge thee e'er I go from thee.
Bear me forthwith unto his creditor
sc. IV tlTlie ComeD^ of Errors; 6i
And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.
Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd 125
Home to my house. O most unhappy day ! Ant. E. O most unhappy strumpet ! Dro. E. Master, I am here ent'red in bond for you. Ant. E. Out on thee, villain ! wherefore dost thou
mad me ? Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing ? Be mad, 130
good master ; cry "The devil !" Luc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk ! Adr. Go bear him hence. Sister, go you with me.
Say now, whose suit is he arrested at ? 134
Exeunt all but Adriana, Ludanay Officer, and Courtezan. Off. One Angelo, a goldsmith. Do you know him .? Adr. I know the man. What is the sum he owes ^ Off. Two hundred ducats.
Adr. Say, how grows it due ?
Off. Due for a chain your husband had of him. Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it
not. Cour. When as your husband all in rage to-day 140
Came to my house and took away my ring —
The ring I saw upon his finger now —
Straight after did I meet him with a chain. Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it.
Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is.
I long to know the truth hereof at large. 146
6a grije ComeD^ of Crrotflf Act iv
Enter Antipholus of Syracuse with his rapier dravm, and Dromio of Syracuse.
Luc. God, for thy mercy ! they are loose again. Adr. And come with naked swords.
Let's call more help to have them bound again. Off. Away ! they'll kill us. 150
Exeunt all [bvi Ant. S. and Dro. S.] as fast as may he, frighted. Ant. S. I see these witches are afraid of swords. Dro. S. She that would be your wife now ran from
you. Ant. S. Come to the Centaur ; fetch our stuff from thence ; I long that we were safe and sound aboard. Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night ; they will 155 surely do us no harm. You saw they speak us fair, give us gold ; methinks they are such a gen- tle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch. 160 Ani. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town ; Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard.
Exeunt.
ACT FIFTH Scene I
[A street before a Priory,] Enter Second Merchant and Angela.
Ang. I am sorry, sir, that I have hind'red you ; But, I protest, he had the chain of me. Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.
2. Mer. How is the man esteem 'd here in the city ?
Ang. Of very reverend reputation, sir, 5
Of credit infinite, highly belov'd, Second to none that lives here in the city. His word might bear my wealth at any time.
2. Mer. Speak softly ; yonder, as I think, he walks.
Enter Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.
Ang. 'Tis so ; and that self chain about his neck 10 Which he forswore most monstrously to have. Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble ; And, not without some scandal to yourself, 15
With circumstance and oaths so to deny 63
64 tl^^t ComeD^ of €not^ Act v
This chain which now you wear so openly. Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend, Who, but for staying on our controversy, 20
Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day. This chain you had of me ; can you deny it ?
Ant. S. I think I had ; I never did deny it.
S. Mer. Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.
Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it or forswear it ? 25
2. Mer. These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee. Fie on thee, wretch ! 'Tis pity that thou liv'st To walk where any honest men resort.
Ant. S. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus.
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty 30
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand.
S. Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
They draw.
Enter Adriana, Luciana, the Courtezan and others.
Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake ! He is mad. Some get within him ; take his sword away. Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. Dro. S. Run, master, run ; for God's sake, take a house ! 36
This is some priory. In, or we are spoil'd !
Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S. to the Priory.
Sc. I W\)t Cometi^ of €not^ 65
Enter the Lady Abbess.
Abb. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither ? Adr, To fetch my poor distracted husband hence.
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast 40
And bear him home for his recovery. Ang. I knew he was not in his perfect wits. 2. Mer. I am sorry now that I did draw on him. Abb. How long hath this possession held the man ? Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, 45
And much different from the man he was ;
But till this afternoon his passion
Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea ?
Buried some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye 50
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love ?
A sin prevailing much in youthful men.
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrows is he subject to ? Adr. To none of these, except it be the last ; 55
Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. Abb. You should for that have reprehended him. Adr. Why, so I did.
-466. Ay, but not rough enough.
Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me. ^66. Haply, in private.
Adr. And in assemblies too. 60
^66. Ay, but not enough.
66 tlTlie ComeD^ of €notsi Act v
Adr. It was the copy of our conference. In bed he slept not for my urging it ; At board he fed not for my urging it ; Alone, it was the subject of my theme ; 65
In company I often glanced it ; Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.
Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad. The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 70 It seems his sleeps were hind'red by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is Hght. Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraid-
ings; Unquiet meals make ill digestions. Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 75
And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? Thou say'st his sports were hind'red by thy
brawls : Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue But moody and dull Melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless Despair, 80
And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures and foes to Hfe ? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast. The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits 85
Hath scar'd thy husband from the use of wits.
Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly.
Sc. I ^\)t ComeD^ of d^rrorflf 67
When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly. Why bear you these rebukes and answer not ?
Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. 90
Good people, enter and lay hold on him.
Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house.
Adr. Then let your servants bring my husband forth.
Abb. Neither. He took this place for sanctuary.
And it shall privilege him from your hands 95
Till I have brought him to his wits again. Or lose my labour in assaying it.
Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse. Diet his sickness for it is my office. And will have no attorney but myself ; 100
And therefore let me have him home with me.
Abb. Be patient ; for I will not let him stir
Till I have us'd the approved means I have.
With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal man again. 105
It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order.
Therefore depart and leave him here with me.
Adr. I will not hence and leave my husband here ; And ill it doth beseem your holiness 110
To separate the husband and the wife.
Abb. Be quiet and depart ; thou shalt not have him.
[Exit.]
Luc. Complain unto the Duke of this indignity.
Adr. Come, go. I will fall prostrate at his feet
68 tS^^^t ComeU^ of €ttotsi Act V
And never rise until my tears and prayers 115
Have won his grace to come in person hither And take perforce my husband from the abbess.
2. Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five. Anon, I'm sure, the Duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale, 120
The place of death and sorry execution, Behind the ditches of the abbey here.
Ang. Upon what cause ?
2. Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant,
Who put unluckily unto this bay 125
Against the laws and statutes of this town. Beheaded publicly for his oflFence.
Ang. See where they come ; we will behold his death.
Luc. Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey.
Enter Duke [attended], and JEgeon bareheaded, tvith the Headsman and other Officers.
Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, 130
If any friend will pay the sum for him, He shall not die ; so much we tender him.
Adr. Justice, most sacred Duke, against the abbess !
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady ;
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. 135
Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my hus- band. Who I made lord of me and all I had. At your important letters, — this ill day
Sc. I tET^e ComeD^ of (Brrorflf 6p
A most outrageous fit of madness took him ; That desperately he hurried through the street, — With him his bondman, all as mad as he, — 141 Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. Once did I get him bound and sent him home, 145 Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape. He broke from those that had the guard of him ; And with his mad attendant and himself, 150
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords. Met us again and, madly bent on us, Chas'd us away, till, raising of more aid. We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursu'd them ; 155 And here the abbess shuts the gates on us, And will not suffer us to fetch him out. Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy com- mand 159 Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help. Duke. Long since thy husband serv'd me in my wars. And I to thee engag'd a prince's word. When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate 165
70 tirtie ComeU^ of d^rrors? Act v
And bid the lady abbess come to me. I will determine this before I stir.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. 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 sing'd off with brands of
fire; And ever, as it blaz'd, 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.
Mess. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true ; 180
I have not breath'd 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.
Sc. I XE^^t ComeO^ of €ttotfSi 71
Even now we hous'd 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, 0, 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.
Mge. 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 gav'st to me to be my wife. That hath abused and dishonoured 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 befall my soul As this is false he burdens me withal !
73 . tETI^e ComeD^ of Crrorsf Act v
Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, 210 But she tells to your highness simple truth !
Ang. O perjur'd woman ! They are both forsworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them.
Ard. E. My liege, I am advised what I say.
Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, 215
Nor heady-rash, provok'd 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 perjur'd goldsmith swear me down
That I this day of him receiv'd the chain.
Which, God he knows, I saw not ; for the which
He did arrest me with an oflScer. 230
I did obey, and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats ; he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the oflBcer
To go in person with me to my house.
By the way we met 235
My wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vile confederates. Along with them
sc. I tETlie ComeU^ of €ttoti 73
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-f ac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-ey'd, 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.
Aug. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him. That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.
Duke. But had he such a chain of thee or no ? 256
Ang. He had, my lord ; and when he ran in here. These people saw the chain about his neck.
^. 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.
74 * tlTl^e Content of €ttot& Act v
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 hous'd him, here he would have been.
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly.
You say he din'd at home ; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you ? 274 Dro. E. Sir, he din'd with her there, at the Porpentine. Cour. He did, and from my finger snatch'd that ring. Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her. Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ? Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. Duke. Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither.
I think you are all mated or stark mad. 281
Exit one to the Abbess. Mge. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word.
Haply I see a friend will save my life
And pay the sum that may deliver me. Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. 285 Mge. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus ?
And is not that your bondman, Dromio } Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir.
But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords.
Now am I Dromio and his man unbound. 290
JEge. I am sure you both of you remember me.
Sc. I tlTlje ComeD^ of €not^ 75
Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you ; For lately we were bound, as you are now. You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir ?
jEge. Why look you strange on me ? You know me well. 295
Ant. E. I never saw you in my life till now.
^ge. 0, grief hath chang'd me since you saw me last. And careful hours with time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. 299 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ?
Ant. E. Neither.
^ge. Dromio, nor thou ?
Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
/Ege. I am sure thou dost.
Dro. E. Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not ; and what- soever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. 306
^ge. Not know my voice ! O time's extremity.
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares ? 310 Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow. And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet\iath my night of life some memory. My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, 315 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
76 tlTlie ComeD^ of Crroref Act v
All these old witnesses — I cannot err — Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.
Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life.
j^ge. But seven years since in Syracusa, boy, 320
Thou know'st we parted ; but perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery.
Ant. E. The Duke and all that know me in the city Can witness with me that it is not so. I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. 325
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa. I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Re-enter Abbess ^ tvith Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.
Abb. Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong'd.
All gather to see them.
Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.
Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other ; And so of these. Which is the natural man. And which the spirit ? Who deciphers them ?
Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio ; command him away. 335
Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio ; pray, let me stay.
Ant. S. iEgeon art thou not ? or else his ghost ?
Dro. S. O, my old master ! Who hath bound him here?
Sc. I tETlie ComeD^ of Crrorsi 77
Abb, Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds
And gain a husband by his liberty. 340
Speak, old ^geon, if thou be'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd iEmilia
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons.
O, if thou be'st the same iEgeon, speak.
And speak unto the same ^Emilia ! 345
^ge. If I dream not, thou art ^Emilia.
If thou art she, tell me, where is that son That floated with thee on the fatal raft ?
Abb. By men of Epidamnum he and I
And the twin Dromio all were taken up ; 350
But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth
By force took Dromio and my son from them.
And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
What then became of them I cannot tell ;
I to this fortune that you see me in. 355
Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right. These two Antipholuses, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance, — Besides her urging of her wreck at sea, — These are the parents to these children, 360
Which accidentally are met together. Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first ?
Ant. S. No, sir, not I ; I came from Syracuse.
Duke. Stay, stand apart ; I know not which is which.
Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord, — 365
78 tB^lie ComeD^ of d^rrorsf Act v
Dro. E. And I with him.
Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous warrior, Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day ?
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.
Adr. And are not you my husband ?
Ant. E. No ; I say nay to that. 371
Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so ; And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here. Did call me brother. [To Luc.] What I told you
then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good, 375
If this be not a dream I see and hear.
Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Ant. S. I think it be, sir ; I deny it not.
Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.
Ang. I think I did, sir ; I deny it not. 380
Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail. By Dromio ; but I think he brought it not.
Dro. E. No, none by me.
Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you
And Dromio my man did bring them me. 385
I see we still did meet each other's man. And I was ta'en for him, and he for me. And thereupon these errors are arose.
Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here.
Duke. It shall not need ; thy father hath his life.
Sc. I tB\)t ComeD^ of C^nrorflf 79
Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. 391 Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks for my
good cheer. Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes ; 395 And all that are assembled in this place. That by this sympathized one day's error Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction. Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail 400 Of you, my sons ; and till this present hour My heavy burden ne'er delivered. The Duke, my husband, and my children both. And you the calendars of their nativity. Go to a gossips' feast, and go with me ; 405
After so long grief, such nativity ! Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast.
Exeunt all but Ant. S.y Ant. E., Dro. S., and Dro. E. Dro. S. Master, shall I go fetch your stuflF from ship- board ? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuflF of mine hast thou em-
bark'd ? Dro. S. Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Cen- taur. 410 Ant. S. He speaks to me. I am your master, Dromio. Come, go with us ; we'll look to that anon.
8o
tET^e ComeD^ of Crrorflf Act v
Embrace thy brother there ; rejoice with him.
Exeunt [Ant. S. and Ant. E.]. Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house.
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner ; 415
She now shall be my sister, not my wife. Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not brother.
I see by you I am a sweet-fac'd youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossiping ? Dro. S. Not I, sir ; you are my elder. Dro. E. That's a question : how shall we try it ? Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior ; till then
lead thou first. Dro. E. Nay, then, thus :
We came into the world like brother and brother ;
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. Exeunt.
my
420
0ott^
The play is divided into acts in the Folio, but the division into scenes is the work of subsequent editors. A list of Dramatis Personoe and most of the notes of place were first added by Rowe in 1709.
I. i. 79. Rowe alters to read the elder born, to accord with i. 125, and various explanations have been oflfered to avoid the inconsistency. It should be remembered, however, that Shakespeare was indifferent to such dis- crepancies.
I. ii. 41. Since born on the same day.
I. ii. 64-65. A post customarily stood in the shops, on which the accounts of customers were scored.
II. i. 101. poor I am but his stale. Probably a double pun is intended ; Adriana not only has grown stale to one yet dear (deer) to her, but she is also her husband's dupe.
II. i. 107. In the First Folio the reading is alone, a loue. This reading of the Second Folio is supported, however, by the similar repetitions in King John, III. i. 170, and The Rape of Lucrece, 795.
II. i. 109-113. In the Folio the passage reads as follows:
I see the Jewell best enameled Will lose his beautie : yet the gold bides still That others touch, and often touching will, Where gold and no man that hath a name, By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
The Cambridge editors emend only one word : often touch- ing will, where gold being altered to read often touching will G 8i
wear gold. The and tho' of 1. 110 in the present text is Hanmer's reading; the transposition of yet to 1. Ill is due to Theobald, who also changed where to wear in 1. 112. The whole passage may be paraphrased : Though gold that is often handled will withstand much wear, yet too frequent handling wears out even gold ; and so there is no man with a reputation so pure that it may not be injured by falsehood and corruption.
The logic of the passage would be more evident if the last two lines were altered to read :
Wear gold ; and no man hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
II. ii. 75. Schmidt observes : " Perhaps by fine and recovery = by finery and re-covery, i.e. by making himself fine and re-covering his head with another man's hair."
II. ii. 187. Until I unravel this undeniable mystery.
II. ii. 209. above with you to-day. Said with reference to the balcony at the rear of the Elizabethan stage.
III. i. 54. Malone suggests that a line rhyming with this has been lost, which may have ended with rope. Crosby suggests " know " for hope, on which Dromio puns in 1. 56.
III. i. 79. when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin. Favorite expression in a popular type of extrava- gant, antithetical verse.
III. i. 105. slander lives upon succession. It is the nature of slander to feed on the future, because slander is ever being repeated, and so renewed.
III. i. 108. in despite of mirth. Either " out of spite
i^otesf 83
to mirth," or else " in spite of mirth," the mirth which others were enjoying at his expense.
III. ii. 52. Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink. An emphatic way of saying that there is no danger of love being destroyed. There may possibly be a play upon light as wanton. If naughty love, favored by nature, can't take care of herself, there is no help for her, and she deserves her fate. As for him, however, he is willing to risk it.
III. ii. 58. Better to gaze upon your dazzling beauty, even though it make me blink, than to look away, where all is night. Such compliments as are contained in this and the following speeches of Antipholus were much cultivated in polite verse.
III. ii. 66. This reading of the Folio has been variously emended, but unnecessarily so, for Antipholus means, " I am already so much in love with you, that I feel as if we were one."
III. ii. 126. A playful allusion to the war against Henry of Navarre; cf. Introduction. Charles Cowden Clarke observes, " Mistress Nell's brazen forehead seemed to push back her rough and rebellious hair, as France resisted the claims of the Protestant heir to the throne."
III. ii. 159. Alludes to use of dogs as turnspits. Such a spit is still to be seen in the kitchen of Christ Church, Oxford.
IV. i. 1. One of the many anachronisms which are used without scruple in the play. Cf. I. i. 8, 22; I. ii. 65, 66-67; III. i. 60; etc.
IV. i. 21. Dromio says in effect: With this coin I am apparently to make a good investment, a thousand pounds
84 ipoteflf
for a penny, but for my poor back it will be a very bad investment, a thousand poundings a year.
IV. i. 46. Here, as frequently, a singular verb is used with plural subject.
IV. i. 94-95. A pun on sheep and ship;ci. Love's Labour's Lost, II. i. 219-220.
IV. ii. 6. Warburton explains : " Alluding to those meteors in the sky (the aurora borealis) which have the appearance of lines of armies meeting in the shock."
IV. ii. 35. Some editors, following Theobald, read a fiend, a fury ; the emendation, however, is unnecessary ; of. Hamlet, I. i. 163, " No fairy takes."
IV. ii. 37. a back-friend, a shoulder-clapper. Applied to the sergeant who was accustomed to approach a man from behind and arrest him roughly. Back-friend means literally " a secret enemy."
IV. ii. 40. before the judgement. A quibble on the Day of Judgement and on the so-called mesne process (cf. N. E. D.), by which a man was arrested and confined before judgment. There is also a quibble on hell, which word was vulgarly applied to a dungeon. Cf. limbo, 1. 32.
IV. ii. 42. 'rested on the case. " This action of tres- pass, or transgression, on the case, is an universal remedy given for all personal wrongs and injuries without force." — Blackstone.
IV. iii. 13. An elaborate play on words. The picture of old Adam is the sergeant, who was clad in buflF, a term also applied to nakedness. N ew-apparelV d probably means " got him a new suit," hence "got rid of him."
IV. iii. 27. Sets up his rest. A term in primero, the game from which poker was derived, meaning to stand pat.
^otci
8s
It was often used thus quibblingly : cf . Lear, I. i. 125 ; Romeo and Juliet, IV. v. 6; V. iii. 110.
IV. iii. 65. A proverbial saying, still current.
IV. iv. 45. beware the rope's end. A phrase taught to parrots by sailors. Cf. Butler's Hudibras:
Could tell what subtlest parrots mean, That speak, but think contrary clean ; What member 'tis of whom they talk, When they cry rope, and walk, knave, walk.
IV. iv. 50. a conjurer. Pinch was a schoolmaster, and therefore, in the popular mind, an exorcist. Cf. Hamlet, I. i. 42 : " Thou art a scholar ; speak to it, Horatio."
V. i. 175. nicks him like a fool. Court fools wore their hair trimmed in an irregular and eccentric fashion.
Cejctual t^aviant^
The text in the present edition is based upon the First Folio, and the following list records the more important variations from that version.
I. i. 55. meaner] meane Fi; poor meane F2, 3, 4.
ii. 1, 8. d. Antipholus of Syracuse] Dyce; Antipholis Erotes Ff. II. i. 1, s. d. Adriana] Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus Ff. home] Hanmer; Ff. omit. alone, alone] F2 ; alone, a loue Fi. and tho' . . . yet] Hanmer; yet the
... and Ff. Wear] Theobald ; where Fi. tiring] Pope ; trying Ff . offer'd] Capell ; free'd Ff. not I] Theobald ; I not Ff.
III. ii. 1, s. d. Luciano] F2 ; Juliana Fi. ruinous] Theobald conj.; ruinate Ff. but] Theobald ; not Ff. bed] F2 ; bud Fi. them] Edwards conj. ;
thee Ff.
IV. i. 17. her] Rowe ; their Ff. 'a] Staunton ; I Ff . bob] Hanmer; sob Ff. the Officer] Capell ; a Jailor Ff. to prophesy] Dyce; the prophesie Ff. again] again. Runne all out Ff.
V. i. 195. ^ge.] Mar. Fat. Fi.
Inserted after 345 in Ff. ne'er] Dyce; are Ff. 86
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I. |
64. |
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i. |
107. |
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110, 111. |
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112. |
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• • u. |
99. |
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188. |
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197. |
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ii. |
1, s. d. |
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4. |
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21. |
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49. |
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i. |
17. |
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ii. |
61. |
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iii. |
24. |
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iv. |
1, s. d. |
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45. |
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149. |
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i. |
195. |
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356-361. |
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402. |
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.f E |
276 |
amain, apace, with might and main ; I. i. 93.
an, if ; I. ii. 94 ; II. ii. 36 ; III. i. 39.
anatomy, skeleton ; V. i. 239.
angels, gold coins, of ten shillings value ; IV. iii. 40.
an if, if; IV. iii. 76.
apparently, openly ; IV. i. 78.
a-row, one after another; V. i. 170.
attached, arrested ; IV. iv. 6.
attaint, disgrace ; III. ii. 16.
back-friend, see note, IV. ii. 37.
bald, senseless; II. ii. 110.
ballast, loaded ; III. ii. 140.
band, bond (used equivocally) ; IV. ii. 49.
bear, carry off ; V. i. 8.
become, make becoming; III. ii, 11.
bob, blow, rap ; IV. iii. 25.
bought and sold, imposed upon and cheated ; III. i. 72.
caracks, large merchant ships ; III. ii. 140. carcanet, necklace; III. i. 4. careful, full of care ; V. i. 298. case, see note, IV. ii. 42. cates, dainties ; III. i. 26. charged, gave in charge ; III. i. 8. chargeful, costly ; IV. i. 29. circumstance, detail ; V. i. 16. coil, ado, fuss ; III. i. 48.
87
88 ^lofifflfar^
coldly, coolly; V. i. 272.
common, playground, public green ; II. ii. 29.
compact, confederate plot ; II. ii. 163.
compact, wholly made up of; III. ii. 22.
conceit, understandings ; III. ii. 34 : imaginings; IV. ii. 65.
confounds, destroys ; I. ii. 38.
confusion, ruin ; II. ii. 182.
consort, attend ; I. ii. 28.
counter, backwards, opposite to the game ; IV. ii. 89.
countermands, prohibits ; IV. ii. 37.
cozenage, deceit ; I. ii. 97.
credit, credulity ; III. ii. 22.
curtal dog, dog with a docked tail ; III. ii. 151.
customers, guests ; IV. iv. 63.
defeatures, disfigurements ; II. i. 98 ; V. i. 299.
deformed, deforming; V. i. 298.
demean, behave ; IV. iii. 83.
detain, withhold ; II. i. 107.
dilate, recount in detail ; I. i. 123.
distain'd, defiled, sullied ; II. ii. 148.
distemperatures, distempers ; V. i. 82.
distract, distracted, mad; IV. iii. 42.
diviner, sorceress; III. ii. 143.
Dowsabel, name based on French douce et bdle: sweet,
charming one; IV. i. 110. draws dry-foot, follows game by the mere scent of the foot ;
IV. ii. 39. drizzled, shed in minute drops; V. i. 312. dry, hard ; II. ii. 64.
ecstasy, madness; IV. iv. 54. excrement, outgrowth; II. ii. 79. exempt, separated; II. ii. 173.
factor's, agent's; I. i. 42. fair, beauty ; II. i. 98. falsing, deceptive ; II. ii. 95. fall (transitive), drop ; II. ii. 127. fashion, custom ; I. i. 74.
fine and recovery, a law term denoting complete owner- ship ; II. ii. 75. folded, hidden ; III. ii. 86. fondly, foolishly ; IV. ii. 57. formal, normal ; V. i. 105. fraughtage, freight ; IV. i. 77.
Genius, attendant spirit ; V. i. 332. get within, close in with ; V. i. 34. glanced, hinted by glancing ; V. i. 66. good, now, " good fellow, now " ; IV. iv. 21. gossip, make merry, join the party ; V. i. 407. gossip's, baptismal sponsor's ; V. i. 405. gossiping, carousal, merry-making ; V. i. 419. grained, furrowed; V. i. 311. grows, comes to be ; IV. iv. 137.
hatch, half-door, Dutch door ; III. i. 33.
heady-rash, hasty, hot-headed; V. i. 216.
healthful, salutary; I. i. 115.
hell, used with a quibble on two meanings : (1) hell proper,
(2) a dungeon ; IV. ii. 40. his, its; II. i. 110. holp, helped ; IV. i. 22. horn-mad, stark-mad, applied to a cuckold's jealous
anger; II. i. 57. hoy, small, sloop-rigged vessel ; IV. iii. 40.
idle, barren ; II. ii. 180.
90 ^losififar^
impeach, impeachment ; V. i. 269.
impeach, accuse ; V. i. 29.
important, importunate; V. i. 188.
insconce, ensconce, protect with fortifications ; II. ii. 38.
instance, indication ; I. i. 65.
jest upon, make light of, trifle with ; II. ii. 28. judgement, see note, IV. ii. 40.
Lapland, " L. sorcerers " ; Lapland was supposedly infested
with witches; IV. iii. 11. lets, hinders, prevents ; II. i. 105. liberties, libertines; I. ii. 102. light, wanton ; see note, III. ii, 52 ; IV. iii. 52. limbo, cant term for prison, suggested by limbo in sense of
a part of hell ; IV. ii. 32.
mace, sergeant's club ; IV. iii. 28. malt-horse, brewer's horse, dray horse ; III. i. 32. mart, market ; I. ii. 27.
mated, used with a quibble on two meanings: (1) con- founded, (2) furnished with a mate ; III. ii. 54. mean, opportunity; I. ii. 18. meanly, moderately; I. i. 59. mend, repair, make amends for ; IV. iii. 60. mickle, much. III. i. 45. minion, darling, dearest ; III. i. 59. mome, dolt, blockhead; III. i. 32. morris-pike, Moorish pike ; IV. iii.' 28. mortal, deadly; I. i. 11. motions, proposals; I. i. 60. moves, addresses, looks to ; II. ii. 183.
nature, natural affection ; I. i. 35.
once this, take this for granted ; III. i. 89. owe, own ; III. i. 42.
pack'd, leagued; V. i. 219.
part, depart ; III. i. 67.
partial, inclined ; III. i. 4.
passage, passing to and fro of people ; III. i. 99.
patch, clown, fool ; III. i. 32.
peasant, servant ; V. i. 231.
peevish, silly; IV. iv. 117.
Pentecost, Whitsunday ; IV. i. 1.
perdie, par dieu, by God ; IV. iv. 74.
peruse, observe ; I. ii. 13.
possess, deprive ; II. ii. 179.
possession, i.e. possession by devils, madness; V. i. 44.
quit, remit ; I. i. 23.
rest, " sets up his r.," stakes his all, a phrase from the
game of primero ; see note, IV. iii. 27. reverted, turned back; see note. III. ii. 126. rout, crowd; III. i. 101.
sconce, helmet; II. ii. 37; (by metonymy) the head it- self ; I. ii. 79 ; II. ii. 34, 35.
season, favorable opportunity; IV. ii. 58.
sinking-ripe, ready to sink ; I. i. 78.
Sir-reverence, a contraction of save reverence, used as an apology for any improper remark ; III. ii. 92.
sold, see bought and sold.
soothe, soothe by humoring ; IV. ii. 82.
stale, dupe, see note, II. i. 101.
stigmatical, stigmatized with deformity; IV. ii. 22.
stray'd, led astray; V. i. 51.
92 ^loflffliar^
succession, " slander lives upon s.," see note. III. i. 105.
suits of durance, buflF jerkins ; IV. iii. 26.
supposed, suspected ; III. i. 101.
suspect, suspicion ; III. i. 87.
sympathized, suffered in common ; V. i. 397.
talce order, adopt measures ; V. i. 146.
Tartar, Tartarian ; it is noteworthy that Tartarian was a
cant term for thief ; IV. ii. 32. timely, eariy; I. i. 139. tiring, attiring ; II. ii. 99. train, entice ; III. ii. 45.
ungalled, unblemished ; III. i. 102. untuned, discordant ; V. i. 310. urging, declaration; V. i. 359.
vain, extravagant; III. ii. 27. vulgar, public; III. i. 100.
waftage, passage; IV. i. 95. well-advised, in right mind ; II. ii. 215. withal, with it; III. i. 113. wont, is wont ; IV. iv. 40.
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Edited by D. NICHOL SMITH. Cloth, $3.00
From the Editor's Preface: —
" It is at least eighty years since most of these Essays were reprinted. Rowe's Account of Shakespeare is given in its original and complete form for the first time, it is believed, since 1714. . . . Dennis's Essay has not ap- peared since the author republished it in 1721. . . . The Nine Essays or Prefaces here reprinted may claim to represent the chief phases of Shake- spearean study from the days of Dryden to those of Coleridge. The Intro- duction has been planned to show the main lines in the development of Shakesp)eare's reputation, and to prove that the new criticism, which is said to begin with Coleridge, takes its rise as early as the third quarter of the eighteenth century."
The Development of Shakespeare as a Dramatist
By GEORGE PIERCE BAKER, Professor of English in Harvard University. Cloth, crown 8vo, $2.00 net ; by mail, $2./s
The book endeavors to fill a gap in the discussions of Shakespeare's art by distinguishing his debt as a dramatic writer to his predecessors or contem- poraries, indicating his contribution to each of the varied forms, chronicle play, farce, melodrama, comedy of manners, high comedy, and tragedy. Professor Baker has made clear the interesting progress of the dramatist toward the mastery of his art, and has illustrated the work with views of London and of the life of the theatre in Shakespeare's day.
What is Shakespeare ? ,
An Introduction to the Great Plays
By L, A. SHERMAN, Professor of English Literature in the Univer- sity of Nebraska. Cloth, large i2mo, xii-\- 414 pp., $1,00 net.
Short Sketches of Shakespeare's Plots
By CYRIL RANSOME, Professor of Modern Literature and History in the Yorkshire College of the Victoria University.
Cloth, J2mo, viu + 2QQ pp., $1.00 net
Shakespeare's Heroines
By ANNA JAMESON. With twenty-six portraits of famous players in
character Cloth, 8vo, 341 pp. , $2,00
The same without the illustrations. Bohn Library. $1.00 net
Shakespeare in Tale and Verse
By LOIS G, HUFFORD. Cloth, i2vio, tx + 44spp., $r.oo net
The same. Standard School Library. $.50 net
Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare
By CHARLES and MARY LAMB. Illustrated by Byara Shaw, $2.50 The same. Eversley Series. $1.50. The same. Bohn Library Edition, %i.oo net. Pocket Classics Edition. Edited by Canon Ainger. t>.25. English Classics Edition. $.40. Standard School Library. $.50 net. Golden Treasury Series. %i.oo.
Characters of Shakespeare's Plays
By WILLIAM HAZLIT1\ Cloth, $1.50
Shakespeare's Songs and Sonnets
Edited by FRANCIS T, PALGRAVE. Golden Treasurj' Series. %i.oO
Shakespeare — English Men of Letters
By Professor WALTER RALEIGH
Blue cloth, gilt tops, 75 cents net ; by mail, 8§ cents Professor Dowden in the Nation : —
" Professor Raleigh has felt over again, with penetrative, imagina- tive, and fine intelligence, the beauty and the greatness of Shake- speare's poetry; he has only placed these in their proper environ- ment, and by virtue of a rare charm of style enabled us to see with his eyes a most harmonious vision. ... A wise and beautiful book."
A Life of William Shakespeare New Edition Revised
By SIDNEY LEE, Editor of the " Dictionary of National Bi- ography "
Cloth, Z2mo, 44S pages and a full index, $2^5 net The Standard, Chicago : —
" ' Monumentally excellent ' was the expression used by Mr. Henry A. Clapp in speaking of Mr. Lee's recent publication. Com- ing from such a source, this is high praise indeed, but the reader cannot fail to find it justified."
William Shakespeare : Poet, Dramatist, and Man
By HAMILTON W. MABIE Illustrated, $2joo net
Also an edition vdthout illustrations, uniform with the Ever s ley Shakespeare, $1.00 net
This work is far more than a mere life of the poet. Indeed, it is conceived on lines so broad and executed in a spirit so generous that it is rather an interpretation than a record. It is written through- out from the literary standpoint and stands almost alone in the fidel- ity, the sanity, and the candor of its appreciations.
A History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of Queen Anne
By A. W. WARD Cloth, $g.oo net
A SUMMARY OF CONTENTS
Volume I — The Origins of the English Drama. The Beginnings of the Regular Drama. Shakespeare's Predecessors. Shakespeare.
Volume II — Shakespeare (continued). Ben Johnson. "The Later Eliza- bethans. Beaumont and Fletcher.
Volume III — The End of the Old Drama. The later Stuart Drama.
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York
PR Shakespeare, William
2804. The comedy of errors
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PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE