THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

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INTRODUCTION.

THIS amusing play, in which farce is lifted to the plane of the ideal, was first printed in the folio of 1623. It is, however, one of Shakespeare's earliest works; or, to be more exact, it contains some of his earliest work; for in its present condition it shows the mark of at least two hands. Some of the rhyming passages-for example Sc. 1 of Act III. are in form and in thought not such as Shakespeare wrote at any time. Some of the blank verse for example that of Act V.-is in form and even in thought such as he need not have been ashamed of in maturer years. It is mentioned by Meres in 1598 as Shakespeare's; but parts of it must have been written at least ten years earlier. The pun on France "making war against her heir" (Act III. Sc. 2) shows that this passage at least was written after 1589, when the civil war about Henry of Navarre's title to the throne began, and before the summer of 1593, when it ended. The source of the plot is a comedy by Plautus, called Menæchmi, which was translated into English by W[illiam] W[arner], and published in 1598, but which had been handed about in manuscript for some years previously. In the Menæchmi there is but one pair of twins; the complication produced by the presence of a second may be of Shakespeare's making, or it may have been the contrivance of some playwright who preceded him in the preparation of this story for the London stage. Of the work of such a writer, there are slight but sufficient traces in the stage directions of the very folio of 1623. A Comedy of Errors founded on the Menæchmi was presented at the Christmas revels at Gray's Inn in 1594; but that this was the Shakespearean version we do not surely know. The period of the action of this comedy is not only indeterminable, but does not need to be determined. From the first scene to the last, it is a mass of anachronism; but for this neither Shakespeare's audience nor he himself cared the snuff of a rushlight. Let us be at least as wise as they were.

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A hall in the DUKE's palace.

Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.

Ege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And by the doom of death end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,
Who wanting guilders to redeem their lives
Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods,
Excludes all pity from our threatening looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
"Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusians and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more, if any born at Ephesus
Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs;
Again: if any Syracusian born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the Duke's dispose,
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;

Therefore by law thou art condemn'd to die.

Ege. 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

And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.

Why thou departed'st from thy native home

Ege. 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

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Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,

I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born, and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum: till my factor's death
And the great care of goods at random left

Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:

From whom my absence was not six months old
Before herself, almost at fainting under

The pleasing punishment that women bear,
Had made provision for her following me,

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And soon and safe arrived where I was.

There had she not been long but she became

A joyful mother of two goodly sons;

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

As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,

A meaner woman was delivered

Of such a burden, male twins, both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed; alas! too soon
We came aboard.

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;

For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds

A doubtful warrant of immediate death;

Which though myself would gladly have embrac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,

Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,

That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was, for other means was none :
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:

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41 Epidamnum. A town in Illyria, at which the travelling brother in the Menæchm arrives.

6 for their parents because their parents.

My wife, more careful for the latter born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as seafaring men provide for storms;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other:
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:

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

Gather the sequel by that went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so;

For we may pity, though not pardon thee.

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

Worthily term'd them merciless to us!

For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,

Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst;
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.

At length, another ship had seiz'd on us;
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,

Gave healthful welcome to their shipwrack'd guests;
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,

Had not their bark been very slow of sail;

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And therefore homeward did they bend their course.

Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss,

That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd

To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

Do me the favour to dilate at full

What hath befall'n of them and thee till now.

Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,

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