Comedy of errors, p.2
Comedy of Errors, page 2
We had sailed a league1 away from Epidamnum before the sea, which always obeys the winds’ commands, gave any indication of danger. We didn’t stay hopeful much longer: soon, the sky grew so dark that we were convinced we were going to die immediately. I could have accepted that, but I was forced by my wife’s incessant weeping—she wept in advance for the things that she saw ahead—and the piteous complaints of the sweet infants—who cried in imitation of the adults, without understanding why—to find a way to save us. Here’s the best I could do: the crew of our ship had fled for safety in the lifeboats and left us to sink with the ship. My wife, who was very concerned about the younger of our twins, tied him to a spare mast—the kind that sailors use for just such a purpose. She tied one of the other twins to him. I did the same with the remaining two boys. With the children taken care of, my wife and I tied ourselves to opposite ends of the mast and floated off, obedient to the current. It carried us toward Corinth—or so we thought. Eventually the sun, looking down upon the earth, burned off the threatening storm clouds. By the power of the sun’s wished-for light, the seas became calm. We saw two ships sailing toward us, one from Corinth, the other from Epidaurus. But before they reached us—let me say no more! You’ll have to imagine what came next, based on what had already happened.
DUKE
No, keep going, old man; don’t stop like that. For we may take pity on you, even if we can’t pardon you.
EGEON
Had the gods taken pity on us, I wouldn’t be here calling them merciless. The two ships hadn’t come within ten leagues of us when our ship hit a huge rock and split down the middle. As we were unjustly separated from each other, both my wife and I were left with something to delight in and something to sorrow over. For her part—the poor soul! Her half of the mast weighed less, but she was no luckier than I was: the wind carried her away more quickly. I saw them rescued by fishermen from Corinth—or so I thought. After a while, another ship rescued me and the two boys who were with me. The sailors knew me, so they took good care of us. Our ship would have caught up with the other ship and taken back my wife and the children, but we sailed too slowly and their ship sped toward their home. So now you’ve heard how I was separated from everything I love. It’s been my bad luck to remain alive long enough to be able to tell the sad stories of my own misfortunes.
DUKE
And for the sake of those you grieve for, do me a favor: tell me the full story of what has happened to you and them, up to this point.
EGEON
My youngest son, whom I care about the most, turned eighteen and started to wonder about his twin brother. He asked me to let him take his attendant—who had also lost a brother, though he had kept his brother’s name for himself—and go in search of him. I wanted to see my lost son as well, so I risked losing the one I loved in order to find the other. I’ve spent five years in the remotest parts of Greece and roaming all over Asia. On my way home, I came to Ephesus. I have no hope of finding my boys here, but I will check every place that is inhabited by men. But that is where the story of my life must end. I’d be happy to die if, in all my travels, I could prove that they are alive.
DUKE
Poor Egeon! Fate has decreed that you must endure the extremes of terrible misfortune. Believe me, if it weren’t against the law, my crown, my duty, and my position (which princes cannot disobey, not matter how they feel), my very soul would argue your case. But you are sentenced to death, and changing a sentence that’s already been passed would dishonor my title. However, I’ll do what I can for you. I will allow you one day to look for help in Ephesus. Call any friends you have. Beg or borrow to come up with the ransom. If you can, you live. If not, you are doomed to die. Jailer, take him into custody.
JAILER
I will.
EGEON
Hopeless and helpless, I go my way, merely putting off my fatal end.
They exit.
ACT 1, SCENE 2
Original Text
Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and FIRST MERCHANT
FIRST MERCHANT
Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day a Syracusian merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here
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And, not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,
10
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinnertime.
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,
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For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
Many a man would take you at your word
And go indeed, having so good a mean.
Exit DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
A trusty villain, sir, that very oft,
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When I am dull with care and melancholy,
Lightens my humor with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town
And then go to my inn and dine with me?
FIRST MERCHANT
I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
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Of whom I hope to make much benefit.
I crave your pardon. Soon at five o’clock,
Please you, I’ll meet with you upon the mart
And afterward consort you till bedtime.
My present business calls me from you now.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
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Farewell till then. I will go lose myself
And wander up and down to view the city.
FIRST MERCHANT
Sir, I commend you to your own content.
Exit FIRST MERCHANT
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
He that commends me to mine own content
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
35
I to the world am like a drop of water
That in the ocean seeks another drop,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself.
So I, to find a mother and a brother,
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In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Here comes the almanac of my true date.—
What now? How chance thou art returned so soon?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Returned so soon? Rather approach’d too late!
The capon burns; the pig falls from the spit;
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The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek.
She is so hot because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold because you come not home;
You come not home because you have no stomach;
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You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we that know what ’tis to fast and pray
Are penitent for your default today.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this, I pray:
Where have you left the money that I gave you?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
55
O, sixpence, that I had o’ Wednesday last
To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper?
The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
I am not in a sportive humor now.
Tell me, and dally not: where is the money?
60
We being strangers here, how dar’st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
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,
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For she will scour your fault upon my pate.
Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season.
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.
70
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
To me, sir? Why, you gave no gold to me!
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,
And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
75
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner.
My mistress and her sister stays for you.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Now, as I am a Christian, answer me
In what safe place you have bestowed my money,
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours
80
That stands on tricks when I am undisposed.
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
I have some marks of yours upon my pate,
Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both.
85
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance you will not bear them patiently.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Thy mistress’ marks? what mistress, slave, hast thou?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Your worship’s wife, my mistress at the Phoenix,
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner
90
And prays that you will hie you home to dinner.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. (beats DROMIO OF EPHESUS)
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
What mean you, sir? For God’s sake, hold your hands.
Nay, an you will not, sir, I’ll take my heels.
Exit DROMIO OF EPHESUS
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
95
Upon my life, by some device or other
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,
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Soul-killing witches that deform the body,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many suchlike liberties of sin.
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I’ll to the Centaur to go seek this slave.
105
I greatly fear my money is not safe.
Exit
ACT 1, SCENE 2
Modern Text
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and FIRST MERCHANT enter.
FIRST MERCHANT
So, tell people that you’re from Epidamnum—otherwise all your goods will be confiscated. Just today, a merchant from Syracuse was arrested for coming here. He couldn’t afford the ransom, so by law, he’ll be put to death before the sun sets. Here’s the money you asked me to hold.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Dromio, bring this money to the Centaur Inn, where we’re lodging, and wait there until I come. It’ll be lunchtime within an hour. Until then, I’ll walk around town, peruse the markets, and gaze upon the buildings, and then I’ll return and sleep at the inn. I’m stiff and weary from all this travel. Get going now.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE
Many men would take you literally and take off with all this money.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE exits.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
He’s a trustworthy servant. Often, when I’m dulled by worry and melancholy, he lightens my mood with his merry pranks. Listen, will you walk with me around the town and then dine with me at the inn?
FIRST MERCHANT
Begging your pardon, but I’ve been invited to see some merchants, who I’m hoping to see a profit from.
But if it pleases you, I’ll meet you in the marketplace at five and will keep you company until bedtime. Right now, my pressing business calls me away.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Farewell till then. I will go lose myself, wandering up and down throughout the city.
FIRST MERCHANT
Sir, I leave you to your own contentment.
FIRST MERCHANT exits.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
He leaves me to my own contentment, but that’s the one thing I cannot find. Out in the world, I’m like a drop of water, trying to find a drop that matches in the whole wide ocean. When that drop fails its task—unnoticed, inquisitive—it dissipates into the ocean and destroys itself. In order to find a mother and a brother, I too have lost myself, unhappily.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS enters.
Here comes the man who shares my birthday. What is it? How is it that you’ve come back so soon?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Back so soon? Too late is more like it. The chicken is burning, the pig is overcooked, the clock has already struck twelve, and my mistress has clocked me one on the cheek. She’s hot because lunch is cold; lunch is cold because you’re not home; you’re not home because you’re not hungry; you’re not hungry because you’ve eaten already. But we servants—who know how to properly fast and pray—are being punished for your offenses today.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Hold on a second. Answer me this, please: where’s the money I gave you?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Oh, the sixpence you gave me last Wednesday to buy leather goods for my mistress? The saddle maker has it, sir—I didn’t keep it.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
I’m not in a joking mood. Tell me right now and stop fooling: where’s the money? We’re strangers here. How dare you let such a large amount escape your keeping?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Please, sir; crack jokes over lunch. My mistress made me hurry here. If I go back without you, she’ll punish your faults by breaking my head open. I should think that your appetite would act like a clock (as mine does) and bring you home on its own, without the need for a messenger.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
That’s enough, Dromio, please. This isn’t a good moment for jokes—save them till a happier time. Where’s the gold I gave you?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Gave me, sir? You didn’t give me any gold.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Come on, you rogue. Quit joking. Tell me what you’ve done with the money I entrusted to you.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
The only thing that I’ve been entrusted with was getting you from the market and bringing you to your house, the Phoenix, for lunch. My mistress and her sister are waiting for you.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Tell me where you’ve stowed away my money, or I swear I’ll break that comical head of yours for goofing when I’m not in the mood. Where are the thousand marks2 you had from me?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
I have some marks from you on my head and some of my mistress’s marks on my body. But between the both of you, I don’t have a thousand marks. If I gave those marks back to you, chances are you wouldn’t take them as patiently as I did.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
Your mistress’s marks? What mistress do you have?
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
Your wife, sir. My mistress. At the Phoenix. The one who’s waiting for you to come home for lunch and praying that you’ll get home quickly.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
What, are you going to mock me to my face when I told you not to? There, take that, you scoundrel! (beats DROMIO OF EPHESUS)
DROMIO OF EPHESUS
What are you doing? Stop, for God’s sake! Well, if you don’t, then I’m out of here.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS exits.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE
I swear, somehow the fool has been cheated out of all my money. They say that this town is full of deception—illusionists that can fool the eye, dark sorcerers who can bewitch your mind, soul-killing witches who can disfigure your body, disguised swindlers, fasttalking fakers, and all kinds of other unchecked sins. If this is true, then I’ll be leaving all the sooner.
I’ll go to the Centaur to find this servant of mine—I fear that my money isn’t safe.
He exits.
1 league = about three miles
2 marks = units of currency
ACT TWO
SCENE 1
Original Text
Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA
ADRIANA
Neither my husband nor the slave returned
That in such haste I sent to seek his master?
Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock.
LUCIANA
Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,
5
And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner.
