Comedy of errors, p.1
Comedy of Errors, page 1
NO FEAR SHAKESPEARE
As You Like It
The Comedy of Errors
Hamlet
Henry IV, Parts One and Two
Henry V
Julius Caesar
King Lear
Macbeth
The Merchant of Venice
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Much Ado About Nothing
Othello
Richard III
Romeo and Juliet
Sonnets
The Taming of the Shrew
The Tempest
Twelfth Night
NO FEAR SHAKESPEARE
THE
COMEDY
OF
ERRORS
Copyright © 2005 by Spark Publishing
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ISBN: 978-1-4114-7919-7
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shakespeare, William, 1564–1616.
The comedy of errors/ edited by John Crowther.
p. cm. — (No fear Shakespeare)
Summary: Presents the original text of Shakespeare’s play side by side with a modern version, with marginal notes and explanations and full descriptions of each character.
ISBN 1-4114-0437-8 (alk.paper)
1. Survival after airplane accidents, shipwrecks, etc.—Drama. 2. Mistaken identity—Drama. 3. Brothers—Drama. 4. Greece—Drama. 5. Twins—Drama. I. Crowther, John (John C.) II. Title. III. Series.
PR2804.A2C76 2005
822.3’3—dc22
2005006772
There’s matter in these sighs, these profound heaves.
You must translate: ’tis fit we understand them.
(Hamlet, 4.1.1–2)
FEAR
NOT.
Have you ever found yourself looking at a Shakespeare play, then down at the footnotes, then back at the play, and still not understanding? You know what the individual words mean, but they don’t add up. SparkNotes’ No Fear Shakespeare will help you break through all that. Put the pieces together with our easy-to-read translations. Soon you’ll be reading Shakespeare’s own words fearlessly—and actually enjoying it.
No Fear Shakespeare pairs Shakespeare’s language with translations into modern English—the kind of English people actually speak today. When Shakespeare’s words make your head spin, our translations will help you sort out what’s happening, who’s saying what, and why.
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS
Characters
ACT ONE
Scene 1
Scene 2
ACT TWO
Scene 1
Scene 2
ACT THREE
Scene 1
Scene 2
ACT FOUR
Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
ACT FIVE
Scene 1
CHARACTERS
Antipholus of Syracuse—The twin brother of Antipholus of Ephesus and the son of Egeon. Antipholus of Syracuse has been traveling the world with his slave, Dromio of Syracuse, trying to find his long-lost brother and mother. At the beginning of the play, he has just arrived in Ephesus. The years of searching have made this Antipholus restless and anxious: he worries that in searching for his lost family members, he has somehow lost himself. When confronted with the Ephesians’ strange behavior, Antipholus’s disorientation is intensified—he cannot tell whether he should be terrified of their seemingly supernatural powers or thankful for the gifts they bestow upon him.
Antipholus of Ephesus—The twin brother of Antipholus of Syracuse. Antipholus of Ephesus is married to Adriana and is a well-respected merchant in Ephesus. He owns a house called the Phoenix and is the head of a large and bustling household. Having served bravely in his army, Antipholus of Ephesus is a favorite of Duke Solinus. Unlike his twin brother, Antipholus of Ephesus is very settled and well established: he has much to lose in the confusion and chaos.
Dromio of Syracuse and Dromio of Ephesus—Long-lost twin brothers and servants to Antipholus of Syracuse and Antipholus of Ephesus, respectively. The Dromio twins are more nearly identical to each other than the Antipholus twins. Witty, antic, and perennially put upon, they grumblingly but good-naturedly endure endless abuse from their masters and mistresses. The Dromio twins’ history resembles that of the Antipholus twins: they were born on the same day as their masters, a fact that is referenced often in the text. However, the resemblance between servant and master ends there. Despite the play’s frantic substitutions and frequent cases of mistaken identity, the line between master and servant is one that is never crossed.
Adriana—The wife of Antipholus of Ephesus and a fiercely jealous woman. Adriana doesn’t appreciate or put much stock in her sister, Luciana’s, advice to be meek and accommodating toward her husband, whom Adriana believes is cheating on her.
Luciana—Adriana’s unmarried sister and the object of Antipholus of Syracuse’s affections. Luciana preaches the virtues of patience and subservience to her sisters.
Egeon—An elderly Syracusian merchant. Egeon is the long-lost husband of the abbess Emilia and the father of the two Antipholus twins. As the play begins, Egeon has been sentenced to death for violating a law prohibiting travel between Syracuse and Ephesus. He had been searching for the son he raised, who left Syracuse seven years ago to find their missing family members.
Abbess—The head of a religious order in Ephesus. The abbess’s real name is Emilia, and she is the long-lost wife of Egeon and the mother of the Antipholus twins.
Duke Solinus—The ruler of Ephesus.
Balthasar—A merchant in Ephesus.
Angelo—A goldsmith in Ephesus and a friend to Antipholus of Ephesus.
Merchant—An Ephesian friend of Antipholus of Syracuse. The merchant cautions Antipholus of Syracuse to disguise himself so as to escape the punishment reserved for Syracusian travelers.
Second Merchant—A tradesman to whom Angelo is in debt.
Doctor Pinch—A schoolteacher, doctor, and would-be exorcist.
Nell—Antipholus of Ephesus’s obese kitchen maid and Dromio of Ephesus’s wife. Nell never appears onstage, but Dromio of Syracuse gives a lengthy description of her.
Luce—A maid to Antipholus of Ephesus. Along with Dromio of Syracuse, Luce keeps her master out of the Phoenix while his wife and his twin brother are dining inside. Some editions call this character “Nell,” thereby combining her with Dromio of Ephesus’s fat wife.
Courtesan—A friend of Antipholus of Ephesus and proprietress of the Porpentine.
ACT ONE
SCENE 1
Original Text
Enter the DUKE, EGEON, JAILER, and other attendants
EGEON
Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
And by the doom of death end woes and all.
DUKE
Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more.
I am not partial to infringe our laws.
5
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,
10
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,
15
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns.
Nay, more, if any born at Ephesus
Be seen at any Syracusian marts and fairs;
Again, if any Syracusian born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
20
His goods confiscate to the Duke’s dispose,
Unless a thousand marks be levièd
To quit the penalty and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
25
Therefore by law thou art condemned to die.
EGEON
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 departedst from thy native home
30
And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus.
EGEON
A heavier task could not have been imposed
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable;
Yet, that the world may witness that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offense,
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 lived in joy. Our wealth increased
40
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, t
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 arrivèd 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 distinguished but by names.
That very hour, and in the selfsame inn,
A meaner woman was deliverèd
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 sailed
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
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death,
Which though myself would gladly have embraced,
70
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourned for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forced me to seek 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-born,
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,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus disposed, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixed,
85
Fastened ourselves at either end the mast
And, floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispersed those vapors that offended us,
90
And by the benefit of his wished light
The seas waxed calm, and we discoverèd
Two ships from far, making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this.
But ere they came,—O, let me say no more!
95
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.
EGEON
O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily termed them merciless to us.
100
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
We were encounterd 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,
105
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul, seeming as burdenèd
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind,
110
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seized on us
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave healthful welcome to their shipwracked guests,
115
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 course.
Thus have you heard me severed from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolonged
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 befall’n of them and thee till now.
EGEON
My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
125
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother, and importuned me
That his attendant—so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retained his name—
Might bear him company in the quest of him,
130
Whom whilst I laboured of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
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 harbors 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
140
Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have marked
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 would sue as advocate for thee.
But though thou art adjudgèd to the death,
And passèd sentence may not be recalled
But to our honour’s great disparagement,
Yet will I favor 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
Jailer, take him to thy custody.
JAILER
I will, my lord.
EGEON
Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend,
But to procrastinate his lifeless end.
Exeunt
ACT ONE
SCENE 1
Modern Text
The DUKE, EGEON, and the JAILER enter, with other attendants.
EGEON
Continue, Solinus, and bring on my downfall. Give me the death sentence and end all my troubles.
DUKE
Merchant of Syracuse, stop your begging: I’m not inclined to bend our laws. The hatred and discord between our two cities is the result of the bitter offenses your duke has perpetrated against the merchants of Ephesus, our well-behaved countrymen. Lacking the money to ransom themselves, these merchants were executed under your duke’s harsh laws, and this has erased all looks of pity from my face. Ever since these deadly conflicts erupted between your violent countrymen and ours, both you Syracusians and we Ephesians have held serious councils and decided not to permit any travel between our two hostile towns. No—the law goes further: if anyone born in Ephesus is seen in Syracuse’s marketplaces or if anyone born in Syracuse comes to Ephesus, that man dies, and his possessions will be confiscated by the Duke, unless he can raise a thousand marks to pay the penalty and ransom himself. Your possessions, even if we calculate their worth very generously, don’t even add up to a hundred marks. Therefore, by law, you are condemned to die.
EGEON
At least I have this comfort: when you finish speaking, my troubles will also end, at sundown.
DUKE
Well, Syracusian, tell us—briefly—why you left your hometown and came to Ephesus.
EGEON
Asking me to speak of my unspeakable griefs—that’s the hardest task you could impose on me. But I’ll do it so that the world can see that it was natural emotion, and not a desire to break the law, that brought me to this fate. I’ll tell you whatever my sorrow permits me to say. I was born in Syracuse, and I married a woman—a fortunate woman, except for having been married to me. And yet I would have made her happy had our luck not been so bad. I lived with her in joy, and our wealth increased from the prosperous journeys I frequently made to Epidamnum. Then my agent died and, obligated to care for my now untended goods abroad, I was drawn away from my wife’s fond embraces. I hadn’t been gone for six months when my wife, almost fainting with the pains of pregnancy, made arrangements to follow me, and she soon arrived safely where I was. She hadn’t been there very long before she became the joyful mother of twin boys. It was strange: they looked so much alike that the only way to tell them apart was by their names. In the same hour, and in the same inn, a poor woman also delivered identical twin boys. Their parents had very little, so I bought the boys and raised them as companions and servants for our twin sons. My wife was more than a little proud of our two boys, and every day she would press me to return home. Reluctantly, I agreed—alas! Too quickly, we boarded a ship.
