The Comedy of Errors is a kind of diploma piece, as if Shakespeare were displaying his ability to outshine both his classical progenitors and their English imitators. Along with The Tempest, it is his most classically constructed play: all the action takes place within a few hours and in a single place. Moreover, it seems to make use of the conventionalized arcade setting of academic drama, with three ‘houses’—the Phoenix, the Porcupine, and the Priory—represented by doors and signs on stage. The working out of the complexities inherent in the basic situation represents a considerable intellectual feat. But the comedy is humanized by the interweaving of romantic elements, such as Egeon’s initial plight, the love between the visiting Antipholus and his twin brother’s wife’s sister, Luciana, and the entirely serious portrayal of Egeon’s suffering when his own son fails to recognize him at the moment of his greatest need. From time to time the comic tension is relaxed by the presence of discursive set pieces, none more memorable than Dromio of Syracuse’s description of Nell, the kitchen wench who is ‘spherical, like a globe’.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Solinus, DUKE of Ephesus

EGEON, a merchant of Syracuse, father of the Antipholus twins

ADRIANA, wife of Antipholus of Ephesus

LUCIANA, her sister

NELL, Adriana’s kitchen-maid

ANGELO, a goldsmith

BALTHASAR, a merchant

A COURTESAN

Doctor PINCH, a schoolmaster and exorcist

MERCHANT OF EPHESUS, a friend of Antipholus of Syracuse

SECOND MERCHANT, Angelo’s creditor

EMILIA, an abbess at Ephesus

Jailer, messenger, headsman, officers, and other attendants

The Comedy of Errors

1.1 Enter Solinus, the Duke of Ephesus, with Egeon the Merchant of Syracuse, Jailer, and other attendants

EGEON

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 sealed his rigorous 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 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 ransom him.

Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,

Cannot amount unto a hundred marks.

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 departed‘st from thy native home,

And for what cause thou cam’st 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 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 happy, had not our hap been bad.

With her I lived in joy, our wealth increased

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,

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 distinguished but by names.

That very hour, and in the selfsame inn,

A mean-born 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 sailed

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 embraced,