Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
T'admit no traffic to our adverse towns.
Nay, more-If any, born at Ephesus,
Be seen at Syracusan marts or 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 ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto an hundred marks;
Therefore, by law, thou art condemn'd to die.
Egeon. This comfort, then, (the wretch's last re
At least, I gain from the severe decree-
My woes must finish ere the setting sun.
Duke. Yet, Syracusan, say in brief the cause,
Why thou departedst from my native home,
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
Ægeon. A heavier task could not have been im-
Yet will I utter what my grief permits.-
In Syracusa was I born; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me!
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd
By prosp'rous traffic-till my factor's death,
Drew us unwillingly to Epidamnum.
There had we not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons,
And, strange to hear, the one so like the other,
They hardly by ourselves could be distinguish'd.
That very hour, and in the self-same house,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike.
These (for their parents were exceeding poor)
I bought, and brought up, to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of her two boys,
Made daily motions for our home return.
Unwilling I agreed.-We came aboard-
Oh, bitter recollection!
Duke. Stop thy tears-
I long, yet almost dread, to hear the rest.
Egeon. 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 heav'ns did grant,
Did but convey into our fearful minds
A dreadful warrant of immediate death.
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;
To him, one of the other twins was bound;
While I had been like heedful of the younger.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I
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 sea wax'd calm; and we discover'd
Two ships from far, making amain to us;
But ere they came-
Duke. Pursue thy tale, old man.
Ægeon. Being encounter'd by a mighty rock, Our helpless raft was splitted in the midst. Her part (poor soul!) burden'd with lesser weight, 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 would have 'reft the fishers of their prey, Had not their bark been very slow of sail.
What hath befallen to them, and thee, till now.
Egeon. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years, became inquisitive
After his brother, and importun'd me
That his attendant (for his case was like,
'Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name)
Might bear him company, in quest of him,
Whom, while I labour'd of a love to see,
I yielded to the loss of him I lov'd.
Since which unhappy time, no news arriving
What course their wayward stars had hurry'd them,
Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece,
Roaming e'en through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
But here must end the story of my life,
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warant me they live.
Duke. Hapless Ægeon! whom the fates have
To bear th' extremity of dire mishap,
Now trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee :
But though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence cannot be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can.
I, therefore, merchant, 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 not, then art thou doom'd to die.
Egeon. What friends can misery expect?
This pity but prolongs the date of pain;
And to a sure, though short protracted end,.
Helpless and hopeless doth Ægeon wend.
Enter ANTIPHOLIS OF SYRACUSE, DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and First MERCHANT.
1 Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidam
Lest that your goods be forfeit to the state.
This very day, a Syracusan merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life,
Dies ere the weary sun sets in the west.-
There is your money, which I had to keep.
Ant. of Syr. 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;
Till then 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 sick and weary.
Get thee away!
Dro. of Syr. Many a man would take you at your
And go away, indeed, having so great
A treasure in his charge. Of what strength do
You conceive my honesty, good master,
That you dare put it to such temptation?
Ant. of Syr. Of proof against a greater charge than
Were it remiss, thy love would strengthen it:
I think thou wouldst not wrong me if thou couldst.
Dro. of Syr. I hope I should not, sir; but there is
A thing as trusting too far. -Odds heart! 'tis
A weighty matter, and, if balanc'd in
A steelyard against my honesty,
Ant. of Syr. That very doubt is my security.No further argument, but speed away.
Dro. of Syr. Ay, but master, you know the old
Ant. of Syr. Then thou hast no occasion to tell it
Begone, I say.-
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 the inn, and dine with me?
[Exit DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
1 Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit.
I crave your pardon-but, at five o'clock,
Please you, I'll meet you here upon the mart,
And afterwards consort with you till bed-time.
My present business calls me from you now.
Ant. of Syr. Farewell till then.--- I will go lose my
And wander up and down to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit.
Ant. of Syr. He, that commends me to my own
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, failing there, to find his fellow out,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
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