<h2><SPAN name="chap13"></SPAN>THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</h2>
<p>The states of Syracuse and Ephesus being at variance, there was a cruel
law made at Ephesus, ordaining that if any merchant of Syracuse was seen
in the city of Ephesus he was to be put to death, unless he could pay a
thousand marks for the ransom of his life.</p>
<p>Aegeon, an old merchant of Syracuse, was discovered in the streets of
Ephesus, and brought before the duke, either to pay this heavy fine or
receive sentence of death.</p>
<p>Aegeon had no money to pay the fine, and the duke, before he pronounced
the sentence of death upon him, desired him to relate the history of his
life, and to tell for what cause he had ventured to come to the city of
Ephesus, which it was death for any Syracusan merchant to enter.</p>
<p>Aegeon said that he did not fear to die, for sorrow had made him weary of
his life, but that a heavier task could not have been imposed upon him
than to relate the events of his unfortunate life. He then began his own
history, in the following words:</p>
<p>“I was born at Syracuse, and brought up to the profession of a
merchant. I married a lady, with whom I lived very happily, but, being
obliged to go to Epidamnum, I was detained there by my business six
months, and then, finding I should be obliged to stay some time longer, I
sent for my wife, who, as soon as she arrived, was brought to bed of two
sons, and what was very strange, they were both so exactly alike that it
was impossible to distinguish the one from the other. At the same time
that my wife was brought to bed of these twin boys a poor woman in the inn
where my wife lodged was brought to bed of two sons, and these twins were
as much like each other as my two sons were. The parents of these children
being exceeding poor, I bought the two boys and brought them up to attend
upon my sons.</p>
<p>“My sons were very fine children, and my wife was not a little proud
of two such boys; and she daily wishing to return home, I unwillingly
agreed, and in an evil hour we got on shipboard, for we had not sailed
above a league from Epidamnum before a dreadful storm arose, which
continued with such violence that the sailors, seeing no chance of saving
the ship, crowded into the boat to save their own lives, leaving us alone
in the ship, which we every moment expected would be destroyed by the fury
of the storm.</p>
<p>“The incessant weeping of my wife and the piteous complaints of the
pretty babes, who, not knowing what to fear, wept for fashion, because
they saw their mother weep, filled me with terror for them, though I did
not for myself fear death; and all my thoughts were bent to contrive means
for their safety. I tied my youngest son to the end of a small spire mast,
such as seafaring men provide against storms; at the other end I bound the
youngest of the twin slaves, and at the same time I directed my wife how
to fasten the other children in like manner to another mast. She thus
having the care of the eldest two children, and I of the younger two, we
bound ourselves separately to these masts with the children; and but for
this contrivance we had all been lost, for the ship split on a mighty rock
and was dashed in pieces; and we, clinging to these slender masts, were
supported above the water, where I, having the care of two children, was
unable to assist my wife, who, with the other children, was soon separated
from me; but while they were yet in my sight they were taken up by a boat
of fishermen, from Corinth (as I supposed), and, seeing them in safety, I
had no care but to struggle with the wild sea-waves, to preserve my dear
son and the youngest slave. At length we, in our turn, were taken up by a
ship, and the sailors, knowing me, gave us kind welcome and assistance and
landed us in safety at Syracuse; but from that sad hour I have never known
what became of my wife and eldest child.</p>
<p>“My youngest son, and now my only care, when he was eighteen years
of age, began to be inquisitive after his mother and his brother, and
often importuned me that he might take his attendant, the young slave, who
had also lost his brother, and go in search of them. At length I
unwillingly gave consent, for, though I anxiously desired to hear tidings
of my wife and eldest son, yet in sending my younger one to find them I
hazarded the loss of him also. It is now seven years since my son left me;
five years have I passed in traveling through the world in search of him.
I have been in farthest Greece, and through the bounds of Asia, and,
coasting homeward, I landed here in Ephesus, being unwilling to leave any
place unsought that harbors men; but this day must end the story of my
life, and happy should I think myself in my death if I were assured my
wife and sons were living.”</p>
<p>Here the hapless Aegeon ended the account of his misfortunes; and the
duke, pitying this unfortunate father who had brought upon himself this
great peril by his love for his lost son, said if it were not against the
laws, which his oath and dignity did not permit him to alter, he would
freely pardon him; yet, instead of dooming him to instant death, as the
strict letter of the law required, he would give him that day to try if he
could beg or borrow the money to pay the fine.</p>
<p>This day of grace did seem no great favor to Aegeon, for, not knowing any
man in Ephesus, there seemed to him but little chance that any stranger
would lend or give him a thousand marks to pay the fine; and, helpless and
hopeless of any relief, he retired from the presence of the duke in the
custody of a jailer.</p>
<p>Aegeon supposed he knew no person in Ephesus; but at the time he was in
danger of losing his life through the careful search he was making after
his youngest son that son, and his eldest son also, were in the city of
Ephesus.</p>
<p>Aegeon’s sons, besides being exactly alike in face and person, were
both named alike, being both called Antipholus, and the two twin slaves
were also both named Dromio. Aegeon’s youngest son, Antipholus of
Syracuse, he whom the old man had come to Ephesus to seek, happened to
arrive at Ephesus with his slave Dromio that very same day that Aegeon
did; and he being also a merchant of Syracuse, he would have been in the
same danger that his father was, but by good fortune he met a friend who
told him the peril an old merchant of Syracuse was in, and advised him to
pass for a merchant of Epidamnum. This Antipholus agreed to do, and he was
sorry to hear one of his own countrymen was in this danger, but he little
thought this old merchant was his own father.</p>
<p>The eldest son of Aegeon (who must be called Antipholus of Ephesus, to
distinguish him from his brother Antipholus of Syracuse) had lived at
Ephesus twenty years, and, being a rich man, was well able to have paid
the money for the ransom of his father’s life; but Antipholus knew
nothing of his father, being so young when he was taken out of the sea
with his mother by the fishermen that he only remembered he had been so
preserved; but he had no recollection of either his father or his mother,
the fishermen who took up this Antipholus and his mother and the young
slave Dromio having carried the two children away from her (to the great
grief of that unhappy lady), intending to sell them.</p>
<p>Antipholus and Dromio were sold by them to Duke Menaphon, a famous
warrior, who was uncle to the Duke of Ephesus, and he carried the boys to
Ephesus when he went to visit the duke, his nephew.</p>
<p>The Duke of Ephesus, taking a liking to young Antipholus, when he grew up
made him an officer in his army, in which he distinguished himself by his
great bravery in the wars, where he saved the life of his patron, the
duke, who rewarded his merit by marrying him to Adriana, a rich lady of
Ephesus, with whom he was living (his slave Dromio still attending him) at
the time his father came there.</p>
<p>Antipholus of Syracuse, when he parted with his friend, who, advised him
to say he came from Epidamnum, gave his slave Dromio some money to carry
to the inn where he intended to dine, and in the mean time he said he
would walk about and view the city and observe the manners of the people.</p>
<p>Dromio was a pleasant fellow, and when Antipholus was dull and melancholy
he used to divert himself with the odd humors and merry jests of his
slave, so that the freedoms of speech he allowed in Dromio were greater
than is usual between masters and their servants.</p>
<p>When Antipholus of Syracuse had sent Dromio away, he stood awhile thinking
over his solitary wanderings in search of his mother and his brother, of
whom in no place where he landed could he hear the least tidings; and he
said sorrowfully to himself, “I am like a drop of water in the
ocean. which, seeking to find its fellow drop, loses itself in the wide
sea, So I, unhappily, to find a mother and a brother, do lose myself.”</p>
<p>While he was thus meditating on his weary travels, which had hitherto been
so useless, Dromio (as he thought) returned. Antipholus, wondering that he
came back so soon, asked him where he had left the money. Now it was not
his own Dromio, but the twin-brother that lived with Antipholus of
Ephesus, that he spoke to. The two Dromios and the two Antipholuses were
still as much alike as Aegeon had said they were in their infancy;
therefore no wonder Antipholus thought it was his own slave returned, and
asked him why he came back so soon.</p>
<p>Dromio replied: “My mistress sent me to bid you come to dinner. The
capon burns, and the pig falls from the spit, and the meat will be all
cold if you do not come home.”</p>
<p>“These jests are out of season,” said Antipholus. “Where
did you leave the money?”</p>
<p>Dromio still answering that his mistress had sent him to fetch Antipholus
to dinner, “What mistress?” said Antipholus.</p>
<p>“Why, your worship’s wife, sir!” replied Dromio.</p>
<p>Antipholus having no wife, he was very angry with Dromio, and said:
“Because I familiarly sometimes chat with you, you presume to jest
with me in this free manner. I am not in a sportive humor now. Where is
the money? We being strangers here, how dare you trust so great a charge
from your own custody?”</p>
<p>Dromio, hearing his master, as he thought him, talk of their being
strangers, supposing Antipholus was jesting, replied, merrily: “I
pray you, sir, jest as you sit at dinner. I had no charge but to fetch you
home to dine with my mistress and her sister.”</p>
<p>Now Antipholus lost all patience, and beat Dromio, who ran home and told
his mistress that his master had refused to come to dinner and said that
he had no wife.</p>
<p>Adriana, the wife of Antipholus of Ephesus, was very angry when she heard
that her husband said he had no wife; for she was of a jealous temper, and
she said her husband meant that he loved another lady better than herself;
and she began to fret, and say unkind words of jealousy and reproach of
her husband; and her sister Luciana, who lived with her, tried in vain to
persuade her out of her groundless suspicions.</p>
<p>Antipholus of Syracuse went to the inn, and found Dromio with the money in
safety there, and, seeing his own Dromio, he was going again to chide him
for his free jests, when Adriana came up to him, and, not doubting but it
was her husband she saw, she began to reproach him for looking strange
upon her (as well he might, never having seen this angry lady before); and
then she told him how well he loved her before they were married, and that
now he loved some other lady instead of her.</p>
<p>“How comes it now, my husband,” said she, “oh, how comes
it that I have lost your love?”</p>
<p>“Plead you to me, fair dame?” said the astonished Antipholus.</p>
<p>It was in vain he told her he was not her husband and that he had been in
Ephesus but two hours. She insisted on his going home with her, and
Antipholus at last, being unable to get away, went with her to his brother’s
house, and dined with Adriana and her sister, the one calling him husband
and the other brother, he, all amazed, thinking he must have been married
to her in his sleep, or that he was sleeping now. And Dromio, who followed
them, was no less surprised, for the cook-maid, who was his brother’s
wife, also claimed him for her husband.</p>
<p>While Antipholus of Syracuse was dining with his brother’s wife, his
brother, the real husband, returned home to dinner with his slave Dromio;
but the servants would not open the door, because their mistress had
ordered them not to admit any company; and when they repeatedly knocked,
and said they were Antipholus and Dromio, the maids laughed at them, and
said that Antipholus was at dinner with their mistress, and Dromio was in
the kitchen, and though they almost knocked the door down, they could not
gain admittance, and at last Antipholus went away very angry, and
strangely surprised at, hearing a gentleman was dining with his wife.</p>
<p>When Antipholus of Syracuse had finished his dinner, he was so perplexed
at the lady’s still persisting in calling him husband, and at
hearing that Dromio had also been claimed by the cookmaid, that he left
the house as soon as he could find any pretense to get away; for though he
was very much pleased with Luciana, the sister, yet the jealous-tempered
Adriana he disliked very much, nor was Dromio at all better satisfied with
his fair wife in the kitchen; therefore both master and man were glad to
get away from their new wives as fast as they could.</p>
<p>The moment Antipholus of Syracuse had left the house he was met by a
goldsmith, who, mistaking him, as Adriana had done, for Antipholus of
Ephesus, gave him a gold chain, calling him by his name; and when
Antipholus would have refused the chain, saying it did not belong to him,
the goldsmith replied he made it by his own orders, and went away, leaving
the chain in the hands of Antipholus, who ordered his man Dromio to get
his things on board a ship, not choosing to stay in a place any longer
where he met with such strange adventures that he surely thought himself
bewitched.</p>
<p>The goldsmith who had given the chain to the wrong Antipholus was arrested
immediately after for a sum of money he owed; and Antipholus, the married
brother, to whom the goldsmith thought he had given the chain, happened to
come to the place where the officer was arresting the goldsmith, who, when
he saw Antipholus, asked him to pay for the gold chain he had just
delivered to him, the price amounting to nearly the same sum as that for
which he had been arrested. Antipholus denying the having received the
chain, and the goldsmith persisting to declare that he had but a few
minutes before given it to him, they disputed this matter a long time,
both thinking they were right; for Antipholus knew the goldsmith never
gave him the chain, and so like were the two brothers, the goldsmith was
as certain he had delivered the chain into his hands, till at last the
officer took the goldsmith away to prison for the debt he owed, and at the
same time the goldsmith made the officer arrest Antipholus for the price
of the chain; so that at the conclusion of their dispute Antipholus and
the merchant were both taken away to prison together.</p>
<p>As Antipholus was going to prison, he met Dromio of Syracuse, his brother’s
slave, and, mistaking him for his own, he ordered him to go to Adriana his
wife, and tell her to send the money for which he was arrested. Dromio,
wondering that his master should send him back to the strange house where
he dined, and from which he had just before been in such haste to depart,
did not dare to reply, though he came to tell his master the ship was
ready to sail, for he saw Antipholus was in no humor to be jested with.
Therefore he went away, grumbling within himself that he must return to
Adriana’s house, “Where,” said he, “Dowsabel
claims me for a husband. But I must go, for servants must obey their
masters’ commands.”</p>
<p>Adriana gave him the money, and as Dromio was returning he met Antipholus
of Syracuse, who was still in amaze at the surprising adventures he met
with, for, his brother being well known in Ephesus, there was hardly a man
he met in the streets but saluted him as an old acquaintance. Some offered
him money which they said was owing to him, some invited him to come and
see them, and some gave him thanks for kindnesses they said he had done
them, all mistaking him for his brother. A tailor showed him some silks he
had bought for him, and insisted upon taking measure of him for some
clothes.</p>
<p>Antipholus began to think he was among a nation of sorcerers and witches,
and Dromio did not at all relieve his master from his bewildered thoughts
by asking him how he got free from the officer who was carrying him to
prison, and giving him the purse of gold which Adriana had sent to pay the
debt with. This talk of Dromio’s of the arrest and of a prison, and
of the money he had brought from Adriana, perfectly confounded Antipholus,
and he said, “This fellow Dromio is certainly distracted, and we
wander here in illusions,” and, quite terrified at his own confused
thoughts, he cried out, “Some blessed power deliver us from this
strange place!”</p>
<p>And now another stranger came up to him, and she was a lady, and she, too,
called him Antipholus, and told him he had dined with her that day, and
asked him for a gold chain which she said he had promised to give her.
Antipholus now lost all patience, and, calling her a sorceress, he denied
that he had ever promised her a chain, or dined with her, or had even seen
her face before that moment. The lady persisted in affirming he had dined
with her and had promised her a chain, which Antipholus still denying, she
further said that she had given him a valuable ring, and if he would not
give her the gold chain, she insisted upon having her own ring again. On
this Antipholus became quite frantic, and again calling her sorceress and
witch, and denying all knowledge of her or her ring, ran away from her,
leaving her astonished at his words and his wild looks, for nothing to her
appeared more certain than that he had dined with her, and that she had
given him a ring in consequence of his promising to make her a present of
a gold chain. But this lady had fallen into the same mistake the others
had done, for she had taken him for his brother; the married Antipholus
had done all the things she taxed this Antipholus with.</p>
<p>When the married Antipholus was denied entrance into his house (those
within supposing him to be already there) be had gone away very angry,
believing it to be one of his wife’s jealous freaks, to which she
was very subject, and, remembering that she had often falsely accused him
of visiting other ladies, he, to be revenged on her for shutting him out
of his own house, determined to go and dine with this lady, and she
receiving him with great civility, and his wife having so highly offended
him, Antipholus promised to give her a gold chain which he had intended as
a present for his wife; it was the same chain which the goldsmith by
mistake had given to his brother. The lady liked so well the thoughts of
having a fine gold chain that she gave the married Antipholus a ring;
which when, as she supposed (taking his brother for him), he denied, and
said he did not know her, and left her in such a wild passion, she began
to think he was certainly out of his senses; and presently she resolved to
go and tell Adriana that her husband was mad. And while she was telling it
to Adriana he came, attended by the jailer (who allowed him to come home
to get the money to pay the debt), for the purse of money which Adriana
had sent by Dromio and he had delivered to the other Antipholus.</p>
<p>Adriana believed the story the lady told her of her husband’s
madness must be true when he reproached her for shutting him out of his
own house; and remembering how he had protested all dinner-time that he
was not her husband and had never been in Ephesus till that day, she had
no doubt that he was mad; she therefore paid the jailer the money, and,
having discharged him, she ordered her servants to bind her husband with
ropes, and had him conveyed into a dark room, and sent for a doctor to
come and cure him of his madness, Antipholus all the while hotly
exclaiming against this false accusation, which the exact likeness he bore
to his brother had brought upon him. But his rage only the more confirmed
them in the belief that he was mad; and Dromio persisting in the same
story, they bound him also and took him away along with his master.</p>
<p>Soon after Adriana had put her husband into confinement a servant came to
tell her that Antipholus and Dromio must have broken loose from their
keepers, for that they were both walking at liberty in the next street. On
hearing this Adriana ran out to fetch him home, taking some people with
her to secure her husband again; and her sister went along with her. When
they came to the gates of a convent in their neighborhood, there they saw
Antipholus and Dromio, as they thought, being again deceived by the
likeness of the twin brothers.</p>
<p>Antipholus of Syracuse was still beset with the perplexities this likeness
had brought upon him. The chain which the goldsmith had given him was
about his neck, and the goldsmith was reproaching him for denying that he
had it and refusing to pay for it, and Antipholus was protesting that the
goldsmith freely gave him the chain in the morning, and that from that
hour he had never seen the goldsmith again.</p>
<p>And now Adriana came up to him and claimed him as her lunatic husband who
had escaped from his keepers, and the men she brought with her were going
to lay violent hands on Antipholus and Dromio; but they ran into the
convent, and Antipholus begged the abbess to give him shelter in her
house.</p>
<p>And now came out the lady abbess herself to inquire into the cause of this
disturbance. She was a grave and venerable lady, and wise to judge of what
she saw, and she would not too hastily give up the man who had sought
protection in her house; so she strictly questioned the wife about the
story she told of her husband’s madness, and she said:</p>
<p>“What is the cause of this sudden distemper of your husband’s?
Has he lost his wealth at sea? Or is it the death of some dear friend that
has disturbed his mind?”</p>
<p>Adriana replied that no such things as these had been the cause.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” said the abbess, “he has fixed his affections
on some other lady than you, his wife, and that has driven him to this
state.”</p>
<p>Adriana said she had long thought the love of some other lady was the
cause of his frequent absences from home.</p>
<p>Now it was not his love for another, but the teasing jealousy of his wife’s
temper, that often obliged Antipholus to leave his home; and the abbess
(suspecting this from the vehemence of Adriana’s manner), to learn
the truth, said:</p>
<p>“You should have reprehended him for this.”</p>
<p>“Why, so I did,” replied Adriana.</p>
<p>“Aye,” said the abbess, “but perhaps not enough.”</p>
<p>Adriana, willing to convince the abbess that she had said enough to
Antipholus on this subject, replied: “It was the constant subject of
our conversation; in bed I would not let him sleep for speaking of it. At
table I would not let him eat for speaking of it. When I was alone with
him I talked of nothing else; and in company I gave him frequent hints of
it. Still all my talk was how vile and bad it was in him to love any lady
better than me.”</p>
<p>The lady abbess, having drawn this full confession from the jealous
Adriana, now said: “And therefore comes it that your husband is mad.
The venomous clamor of a jealous woman is a more deadly poison than a mad
dog’s tooth. It seems his sleep was hindered by your railing; no
wonder that his head is light; and his meat was sauced with your
upbraidings; unquiet meals make ill digestions, and that has thrown him
into this fever. You say his sports were disturbed by your brawls; being
debarred from the enjoyment of society and recreation, what could ensue
but dull melancholy and comfortless despair? The consequence is, then,
that your jealous fits have made your husband mad.”</p>
<p>Luciana would have excused her sister, saying she always reprehended her
husband mildly; and she said to her sister, “Why do you hear these
rebukes without answering them?”</p>
<p>But the abbess had made her so plainly perceive her fault that she could
only answer, “She has betrayed me to my own reproof.”</p>
<p>Adriana, though ashamed of her own conduct, still insisted on having her
husband delivered up to her; but the abbess would suffer no person to
enter her house, nor would she deliver up this unhappy man to the care of
the jealous wife, determining herself to use gentle means for his
recovery, and she retired into her house again, and ordered her gates to
be shut against them.</p>
<p>During the course of this eventful day, in which so many errors had
happened from the likeness the twin brothers bore to each other, old
Aegeon’s day of grace was passing away, it being now near sunset;
and at sunset he was doomed to die if he could not pay the money.</p>
<p>The place of his execution was near this convent, and here he arrived just
as the abbess retired into the convent; the duke attending in person,
that, if any offered to pay the money, he might be present to pardon him.</p>
<p>Adriana stopped this melancholy procession, and cried out to the duke for
justice, telling him that the abbess had refused to deliver up her lunatic
husband to her care. While she was speaking, her real husband and his
servant, Dromio, who had got loose, came before the duke to demand
justice, complaining that his wife had confined him on a false charge of
lunacy, and telling in what manner he had broken his bands and eluded the
vigilance of his keepers. Adriana was strangely surprised to see her
husband when she thought he had been within the convent.</p>
<p>Aegeon, seeing his son, concluded this was the son who had left him to go
in search of his mother and his brother, and he felt secure that this dear
son would readily pay the money demanded for his ransom. He therefore
spoke to Antipholus in words of fatherly affection, with joyful hope that
he should now be released. But, to the utter astonishment of Aegeon, his
son denied all knowledge of him, as well he might, for this Antipholus had
never seen his father since they were separated in the storm in his
infancy. But while the poor old Aegeon was in vain endeavoring to make his
son acknowledge him, thinking surely that either his griefs and the
anxieties he had suffered had so strangely altered him that his son did
not know him or else that he was ashamed to acknowledge his father in his
misery—in the midst of this perplexity the lady abbess and the other
Antipholus and Dromio came out, and the wondering Adriana saw two husbands
and two Dromios standing before her.</p>
<p>And now these riddling errors, which had so perplexed them all, were
clearly made out. When the duke saw the two Antipholuses and the two
Dromios both so exactly alike, he at once conjectured aright of these
seeming mysteries, for he remembered the story Aegeon had told him in the
morning; and he said these men must be the two sons of Aegeon and their
twin slaves.</p>
<p>But now an unlooked-for joy indeed completed the history of Aegeon; and
the tale he had in the morning told in sorrow, and under sentence of
death, before the setting sun went down was brought to a happy conclusion,
for the venerable lady abbess made herself known to be the long-lost wife
of Aegeon and the fond mother of the two Antipholuses.</p>
<p>When the fishermen took the eldest Antipholus and Dromio away from her,
she entered a nunnery, and by her wise and virtuous conduct she was at
length made lady abbess of this convent and in discharging the rites of
hospitality to an unhappy stranger she had unknowingly protected her own
son.</p>
<p>Joyful congratulations and affectionate greetings between these
long-separated parents and their children made them for a while forget
that Aegeon was yet under sentence of death. When they were become a
little calm, Antipholus of Ephesus offered the duke the ransom money for
his father’s life; but the duke freely pardoned Aegeon, and would
not take the money. And the duke went with the abbess and her newly found
husband and children into the convent, to hear this happy family discourse
at leisure of the blessed ending of their adverse fortunes. And the two
Dromios’ humble joy must not be forgotten; they had their
congratulations and greetings, too, and each Dromio pleasantly
complimented his brother on his good looks, being well pleased to see his
own person (as in a glass) show so handsome in his brother.</p>
<p>Adriana had so well profited by the good counsel of her mother-in-law that
she never after cherished unjust suspicions nor was jealous of her
husband.</p>
<p>Antipholus of Syracuse married the fair Luciana, the sister of his brother’s
wife; and the good old Aegeon, with his wife and sons, lived at Ephesus
many years. Nor did the unraveling of these perplexities so entirely
remove every ground of mistake for the future but that sometimes, to
remind them of adventures past, comical blunders would happen, and the one
Antipholus, and the one Dromio, be mistaken for the other, making
altogether a pleasant and diverting Comedy of Errors.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />