Page images
PDF
EPUB

The date of 1593, placing this among the author's earlier works, corresponds with various other indications of style and versification, and cast of thought, not decisive in themselves. Thus the alternate rhymes in which the courtship of the Syracusian Antipholus is clothed, is in the taste of Shakespeare's earlier poems, and corresponds also with the versification of some of the love-scenes in the first edition of ROMEO AND JULIET, as well as with passages in LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. The long doggerel lines, in which so much of the more farcical part is written, is a vestige of the older versification still used on the stage at the commencement of Shakespeare's dramatic career. This, in various forms of the longer rhythm, had come down through English literature even from Saxon poetry, and had been employed for the gravest subjects, as not unworthy of epic, narrative, or devotional poetry. It had gradually given way, for such purposes, to more cultivated metres, such as are now in use; but was still used in dramatic composition by Shakespeare's immediate predecessors, for all purposes of dialogue, whether grave or gay. Shakespeare (so far as I can trace the subject) seems to have been the first who perceived the peculiar adaptation of these long hobbling measures for ludicrous effect, and who used them for nothing else.

PERIOD OF THE ACTION.

#

"In Douce's essay 'On the Anachronisms and some other Incongruities of Shakespeare,' the offences of our Poet in the COMEDY OF ERRORS are thus summed up: In the ancient city of Ephesus we have ducats, marks, and guilders, and the Abbess of a Nunnery. Mention is also made of several modern European kingdoms, and of America; of Henry the Fourth of France, of Turkish tapestry, a rapier, and a striking-clock; of Lapland sorcerers, Satan, and even of Adam and Noah. In one place Antipholus calls himself a Christian. As we are unacquainted with the immediate source whence this play was derived, it is impossible to ascertain whether Shakespeare is responsible for these anachronisms.'

"Douce, seeing that the COMEDY OF ERRORS was suggested by the Menæchmi of Plautus, considers, no doubt, that Shakespeare intended to place his action at the same period as the Roman play. It is manifest to us that he intended precisely the contrary. The Menæchmi contains invocations in great number to the ancient divinities;— Jupiter and Apollo are here familiar words. From the first line of the COMEDY OF ERRORS to the last we have not the slightest allusion to the classical mythology. Was there not a time, then, even in the ancient city of Ephesus, when there might be an abbess,-men might call themselves Christians,-and Satan, Adam, and Noah might be names of common use? We do not mean to affirm that Shakespeare intended to select the Ephesus of Christianity -the great city of churches and councils-for the dwelling-place of Antipholus, any more than we think that Duke Solinus was a real personage-that 'Duke Menaphon, his most renowned uncle,' ever had any existenceor that even his name could be found in any story more trustworthy than that of Greene's 'Arcadia.' The truth is, that in the same way that Ardennes was a sort of terra incognita of chivalry, the poets of Shakespeare's time had no hesitation in placing the fables of the romantic ages in classical localities, leaving the periods and the names perfectly undefined and unappreciable. Who will undertake to fix a period for the action of Sir Philip Sydney's great romance, when the author has conveyed his reader into the fairy or pastoral land, and informed him what manner of life the inhabitants of that region lead? We cannot open a page of Sydney's 'Arcadia' without being struck with what we are accustomed to call anachronisms,-and these from a very severe critic, who, in his 'Defence of Poesy,' denounces with merciless severity all violation of the unities of the drama.

"Warton has prettily said, speaking of Spenser, exactness in his poem would have been like a cornice which a painter introduced in the grotto of Calypso.' Those who would define every thing in poetry are the makers of corniced grottoes. As we are not desirous of belonging to this somewhat obsolete fraternity, to which even Warton himself affected to belong when he wrote what is truly an apology for the 'Faery Queen,' we will leave our readers to decide, whether Duke Solinus reigned at Ephesus before the great temple, after having risen with increasing splendour from seven repeated misfortunes, was finally burnt by the Goths in their third naval invasion;' or whether he presided over the decaying city, somewhat nearer to the period when Justinian filled Constantinople with its statues, and raised his church of St. Sophia on its columns;' or, lastly, whether he approached the period of its final desolation, when the 'candlestick was removed out of its place,' and the Christian Ephesus became the Mohammadan Aiasaluck."-KNIGHT.

COSTUME.

"The costume of this comedy must, we fear, be left conventional. The two masters, as well as the two servants, must of course be presumed to have been attired precisely alike, or the difference of dress would at least have called forth some remark, had it not led to an immediate eclaircissement; and yet that the Syracusian travellers, both master and man, should by mere chance be clothed in garments not only of the same fashion, but of the same colour, as those of their Ephesian brethren, is beyond the bounds of even stage probability. Were the scene laid during the classical era of Greece, as in the Menæchmi, on which our comedy was founded, the absurdity would not be quite so startling, as the simple tunic of one slave might accidentally resemble that of another; and the chlamys and petasus of the upper classes were at least of one general form, and differed but occasionally in colour; but the appearance of an abbess renders it necessary to consider the events as passing at the time when Ephesus had become famed among the Christian cities of Asia Minor, and at least as late as the first establishment of religious communities, (i. e. in the fourth century.)

*

"We can only recommend to the artist the Byzantine Greek paintings and illuminations, or the costume adopted from them for scriptural designs by the early Italian painters."-MR. PLANCHE, in "Pictorial Shakespeare."

[ocr errors][merged small]
[blocks in formation]
[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors]

SCENE I.-A Hall in the DUKE's Palace.

Enter SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus, EGEON, a Merchant of Syracusa, Jailer, 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 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 any 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 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, Syracusian; say, in brief, the cause Why thou departedst 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 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 distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean 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 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;
Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'd,
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,
Forc'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 latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as sea-faring 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 wax'd 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.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so, 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 burdened
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 seized 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

course.

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.

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.
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 labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.
Five summers have I spent in furthest 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 Egeon, 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 I 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,
And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die.-
Jailer, take him to thy custody.

Jail. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ægeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt..

SCENE II-A Public Place.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and a Merchant.

Mer. 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: 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.

Ant. S. Go, bear it to the Centaur, where we host, And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time: 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.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean.

[Exit.

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 afterwards consort you till bed-time:
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.
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 almanack of my true date.-
What now? How chance thou art return'd so soon?
Dro. E. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd
too late.

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 stomach;
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.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this,
I pray;

Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. 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.

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?

Dro. E. 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,

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 out of season:

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?

Dro. E. To me, sir? why you gave no gold to me.
Ant. S. Come on, sir knave; have done your

foolishness,

[blocks in formation]

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.
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,
Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches that deform the body,
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.

[Exit.

[graphic]
« PreviousContinue »