Stand by, a looker-on.
Paul.
Quit presently the chapel; or resolve you
For more amazement. If you can behold it,
I'll make the statue move indeed; descend,
And take you by the hand: but then you'll think,
(Which I protest against,) I am assisted
By wicked powers.
What you can make her do,
I am content to look on: what to speak,
I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy
To make her speak, as move.
You do awake your faith: Then, all stand still :
Or those that think it is unlawful business
I am about, let them depart.
Leon.
No foot shall stir.
Paul.
Music; awake her: strike.
[Music. 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more: approach:
Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come;
I'll fill your grave up: stir; nay, come away;
Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
Dear life redeems you.-You perceive she stirs ;
[HERMIONE comes down from the pedestal.
Start not her actions shall be holy, as,
You hear, my spell is lawful: do not shun her,
Until you see her die again; for then
You kill her double: Nay, present your hand :
When she was young you woo'd her; now, in age,
Is she become the suitor !
O, she's warm! [Embracing her.
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.
She embraces him.
Cam. She hangs about his neck;
If she pertain to life, let her speak too.
Please you to interpose, fair madam; kneel, And pray your mother's blessing.-Turn, good lady;
Our Perdita is found.
[Presenting PER., who kneels to HER.
You gods, look down,
Her.
And from your sacred vials pour your graces
Upon my daughter's head!-Tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd?
how found
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I,-
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being,-have preserv'd
Myself to see the issue.
Paul.
There's time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push, to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there
My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.
Leon.
O peace, Paulina !
Thou should'st a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,
And made between 's by vows. Thou hast found
mine;
But how, is to be questioned: for I saw her,
As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many
A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far
(For him, I partly know his mind) to find thee
An honourable husband: Come, Camillo,
And take her by the hand: whose worth and
honesty
Is richly noted; and here justified
By us, a pair of kings.-Let's from this place.-
What?-Look upon my brother :-both your
pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion. This, your son-in-law, [ing,)
Pol. Ay, and make it manifest where she has | And son unto the king, (whom Heavens direct
Is troth-plight to your daughter.-Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away.
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.
THE members of the Honourable Society of Gray's Inn celebrated their Christmas revels in the year 1594 with unusual spirit. Their hall was the abode of mock sovereignty, and the sports which anciently accompanied the Lord of Misrule; and the transactions of the revels were recorded by a member of the society in a manuscript which was afterwards published in 1688, under the title of Gesta Grayorum. The author of this account, in concluding the annals of one day's proceedings, says, p. 22,-" After such sports, a Comedy of Errors, like to Plautus his Menechmus, was played by the players: so that night was begun and continued to the end in nothing but confusion and errors, whereupon it was ever afterwards called the Night of Errors."
This notice of the play, which is not alluded to by either Collier or Knight, is extremely curious, proving that the Comedy of Errors, in some form or other, was in existence in December, 1594. An older play, called the Historie of Error, was
acted at Hampton Court on Jan. 1st, 1576-'7, "enacted by the children of Powles," and has been conjectured to be the foundation of Shakespeare's drama, which is alluded to by Meres in 1598, under the simple title of Errors. It may also be mentioned, that when the Comedy of Errors was performed before James I., on December 28th, 1604, it is called the Plaie of Errors, and the author's name, Shaxberd, is written in the margin of the account. If we add to these circumstances the strong internal evidence that this is an early play, we shall be disposed to arrive at the conclusion that Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors was written in or before 1594, and that, in all probability, he was indebted for his materials to the older play, entitled the History of Error.
The Menæchmi of Plautus was not translated into English, or rather no English translation of it was printed, before 1595; but there are allusions in the Comedy of Errors, which, if not
taken from the older play, appear to show the
poet's familiarity with some of the Latin classics
-not an improbable supposition, it might be ar-
'gued, in what Mr. Knight calls "an age of gram-
mar-schools;" but it happens, somehow or other,
that when we really approach the sources, used
by Shakespeare, most of the learning is generally
to be traced to the older compositions, or, at
least, to contemporary popular works. Be this
as it may, there are no similarities of sufficient
weight to enable us to decide that Shakespeare
borrowed direct from Plautus; and, I think,
several circumstances to show that he did not.
Among the latter may be reckoned there being
no reason assigned for the presence of Emilia,
or for the curious fact of the two Dromios having
the same name; oversights which are probably
to be ascribed to the earlier play, and unlikely to
have been committed by a poet who was chiefly
using invented materials. The incidents which
are common to the Comedy of Errors and the
Menæchmi are, principally, the separation of the
twin sons; their perfect similarity in speech,
countenance, and name; and the accidents hap-
pening to Menechmus and Antipholus of Syra-
cuse, who both are troubled with jealous wives,
and meet with similar adventures. The chief
addition in Shakespeare is the introduction of the
two Dromios, opening, as Skottowe observes, a
new source of error and confusion, where most
readers will be inclined to believe enough existed
before. And this opinion would probably have
been right, had these materials of error fallen into
any other hands than those of Shakespeare.
containing all the best qualities of farce, being its
general character subdued by poetic taste, should
be suffered to remain entirely neglected.
THE PLOT. The scene opens in the palace of
Solinus, Duke of Ephesus; by whom Egeon, a
merchant of Syracuse, is given up to the gaoler
for execution, unless he can raise a thousand
marks as the price of his ransom. This severe
law has just been enacted at Ephesus, as a re-
prisal for cruelties committed on the persons
of Ephesian merchants, by the inhabitants of
Syracuse. Egeon relates, at the request of
the duke, the following narrative of his former
adversity:-His affairs compelled him to visit
Epidamnum, whither he was followed by his
wife, Emilia; who was, soon after her arrival,
delivered of twin sons, so much alike in person,
that they could only be distinguished by name.
At the same time and place, a poor woman was
delivered of twins under the like similitude;
whom he purchased, to be brought up as atten
dants on his own sons. He afterwards embarked
with his family for Syracuse; but, soon after the
vessel had left Epidamnum, a storm arose; the
ship was forsaken by the crew, and, as the only
chance of saving their lives, Emilia lashed her-
self with the two younger boys to one end of a
mast, and himself, with the two remaining chil-
dren, were bound to the other. They were
borne towards Corinth; but, ere they could be
reached by two vessels that approached to their
succour, their frail support was driven on a rock,
and shattered.-Emilia, with her children, were
supposed to be saved by fishermen of Corinth;
whilst Egeon, with his, were conveyed to other
shores. Eighteen years passed away; when, his
son importuning him, he was permitted, with
his servant, to go in search of their lost brothers,
whose names, Antipholus and Dromio, they
assumed. They arrived at Ephesus, unknown
to Egeon, in search of their friends; and, in
order to avoid the penalty of the new law under
which Egeon was condemned, they assumed the
garb of Ephesians.-Here Emilia had long re-
The materials of which the Comedy of Errors is constructed, chiefly belong to the cycle of farce; but they have been worked into a comedy by a wonderful effort of dramatic power the lighter character, however, remaining prominent in particular scenes. Comedy would allow the two Antipholuses with a license similar to that which sanctions the resemblance between Sebastian and Viola; but the two Dromios, in conjunction with the former, certainly belong to farce. The admirable manner in which the mis-sided as an abbess, unknown to her family, as takes arising from these identities are conducted, and the dignity given to the whole by the introduction of fine poetry most artistically interwoven, are indicative of that high dramatic genius which belongs almost exclusively to Shakespeare. The poetical conversation between Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse, reminds us forcibly of the "Sonnets;" and the similar ideas in the former are strengthened in power by being associated with a dramatic narrative; for had Shakespeare not been a dramatist, he would scarcely have ranked as so great a poet. No play of Shakespeare's, when either effectively read or acted, affords so many subjects for broad merriment as this; and it says little for the taste of the present day, that so many worthless pieces should be produced, while a regular drama,
had also the two lost children-Antipholus as a merchant, and Dromio as his servant. Many ludicrous mistakes occur, from the similitude of the brothers and their servants, in names and person; and the whole concludes with a meeting of Emilia and Egeon, and their children and their friends; an eclaircissement takes place, the duke generously pardons Egeon without the ransom, and all are joyfully re-united.
MORAL. In this comedy, as well as to set forth the curious incidents to which circumstances sometimes give birth, Shakespeare seems to have intended to exhibit the strong natural affection of parents for their offspring in perilous situations, and also to show the unnatural cruelty of states enforcing edicts of retaliation, as in the case of Ægeon.
SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus. EGEON, a Merchant of Syracuse. ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse,
Twin Brothers, and sons to Egeon and Emilia, but unknown
to each other. Twin Brothers, and Attendants on the two An
DROMIO of Ephesus,
DROMIO of Syracuse,tipholuses.
BALTHAZAR, a Merchant.
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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 gilders to redeem their lives,
Have seal'd his rig'rous statutes with their
bloods-
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
"Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more,-If any, born at Ephesus,
Be seen at any Syracusan marts and fairs,-
Again, if any Syracusan 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, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause Why thou departed'st from thy native home; And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. 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
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 too, 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 he (great care of goods at random left)
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months old,
Before herself (almost at fainting under
The pleasing punishment that women bear)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon and safe arrived where I was.
There had she not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;
And, which was strange, the one so like the other
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burthen, 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; [brac'd,
Which, though myself would gladly have em-
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,
Fore'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;
My wife, more careful for the elder 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,
Were 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 waxed 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. [off so.
Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break
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 burden'd
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 shipwreck'd
guests;
And would have reft* the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
And therefore homeward did they bend their
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. [est for,
Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrow-
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,
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:
Whom whilst I laboured 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;
Hopeless to find, yet loth 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.
Duke. Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have
mark'd
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!'
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recall'd
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what 1 can:
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help:
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus:
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
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.
Get thee away.
[word,
Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your
And go indeed, having so good a mean.
[Exit DRO. S.
Ant. S. A trusty villain,? sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn and dine with me?
Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, 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. Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself, And wander up and down, to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit Mer.
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,
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,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanac of iny true date.What now? How chance thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
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 sto-
mach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day. [pray:
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I
Where have you left the money that I gave you?
Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o' Wedn's-
day last,
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die :- To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper;
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-A public Place.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and
Mer. Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day, a Syracusan merchant Is apprehended for arrival here; 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. [host, Ant. S. Go, bear it to the Centaur, where we And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time:
The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not.
Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody? [ner:
Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at din-
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.
Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your
clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are
Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner; My mistress and her sister stay 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. 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,
Perchance you will not bear them patiently.
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks? what mistress,
slave, hast thou?
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. [Strikes him. 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 DRO. E.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other,
The villain is o'er-raught of all my money.
They say this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
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;
I greatly fear my money is not safe.
Act Second.
SCENE I.-A public Place.
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:
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?
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. Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe, 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: Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, Indued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. + Over-reached. i.e. Scarce stand under them.
Adr. But were you wedded, you would beat some sway.
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience unmov'd! no marvel though she
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;
But were we burden'd 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,
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. Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? Dro. E. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that 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 could'st not feel 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 pr'ythee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is stark-mad:
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: ""Tis dinner time," quoth I; "My gold," quoth
"Your meat doth burn," quoth I; "My gold," quoth he:
"Will you come home?" quoth I; "My gold," quoth he: (villain?" "Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, "The pig," quoth I, "is burn'd;" "My gold," quoth he: [mistress;
"My mistress, sir," quoth I; "Hang up thy I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!" Luc. Quoth who?
Dro. E. Quoth my master. "I know," quoth he, "no house, no wife, no 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. [home.
Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him DO. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home? For Heaven'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.
Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master
Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a football you de 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.
Luc. Fie, how impatience loureth in your face!
Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look!
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it:
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