finished_summaries/shmoop/The Comedy of Errors/section_0_part_0.txt
The Comedy of Errors.act i.scene i
act i, scene i
{"name": "Act I, Scene i", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201219160210/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/comedy-of-errors/summary/act-i-scene-i", "summary": "Our comedy begins at the Ephesian marketplace, where Solinas, the Duke of Ephesus, is explaining why poor Egeon, a merchant of Syracuse, must die. Solinus says that merchants from Ephesus have been forbidden to enter Syracuse, and merchants from Syracuse have been forbidden to enter Ephesus. The punishment for disobeying? Death, of course. It's harsh, yes, but Solinas wants everyone to know that the Duke of Syracuse started it. Of course, there's a monetary loophole. Egeon can get out of the death sentence by paying a thousand marks. But Duke Solinus comments that Egeon doesn't appear to be worth even 100 marks. Way to kick him when he's down, Solinus. To the Duke's surprise, Egeon says he finds the idea of death comforting. This piques Duke Solinus's curiosity, so he asks how and why Egeon left Syracuse for Ephesus. Egeon declares his grief to be unspeakable, and then immediately begins to talk about it. Egeon wants to clear up that he does not want to die because of some heinous crime he's committed. Rather, his death wish is kind of a natural result of grief, which he's had a lot of in his life. He'll even tell you about it, in great length and detail. Egeon was born in Syracuse, and lived comfortably there with his wife. He made a lot of money traveling between Syracuse and Epidamium as a merchant. When his agent died, he had to stay in Epidamium and take care of business himself. Egeon's wife, who was pregnant at the time, decided to join him. Egeon's wife soon gave birth to identical twin boys, who looked so similar that their names were their only distinguishing feature. As literary devices would have it, a poor woman staying at the very same inn, during the very same hour, happened to also give birth to identical twin boys. Because she was too poor to raise the babies, she sold her children to Egeon, who wanted to raise the boys as companions and attendants for his twin boys. Egeon's wife then started to nag him, saying they should all go home. But, as soon as the family got on the ship to head back to Syracuse, a terrible storm rolls in, threatening to kill everyone. The wife and babes wept, the sailors abandoned ship and ran off in Egeon's lifeboat, and it seemed that nothing could save them. Egeon's wife, worried for the younger of the twins, tied him and one of the servant twins to a small spare mast. Egeon did the same with the other two older boys. Then, Egeon and his wife guarded either end of the mast, each with their respective pair of babies . When the storm started to calm, the family saw two ships approach--one from Corinth, the other from Epidaurus. To make the situation even more of a logic puzzle, Egeon's boat ran into a big rock. The boat was torn in two, separating the two parents . The wife and two babies were rescued by the Corinthian ship, while Egeon and his two boys were picked up by the other. Sadly, the ship that Egeon was in was slow, and headed for home instead of catching up with the ship from Corinth. Thus, Egeon never saw his wife, younger twin son, or his servant ever again. Egeon explains to the Duke that when his son and servant turned eighteen, they got itchy to find their long lost twin brothers, and left Egeon alone. Egeon's son and servant have been gone for five summers, in which time Egeon has roamed around the farthest reaches of Asia trying to find both lost sets of boys. His travels finally brought him to Ephesus. He knows that he risks death by entering Ephesus, but would rather risk death than not look for the boys here. Thus he's lost a wife and two sets of kids, but has acquired a loneliness that's priceless. The Duke basically says to him, \"I can't bend the rules, so you're still sentenced to die.\" Still, he gives Egeon one day to try to raise the 1,000 marks for his bail by begging and borrowing from the folks of Ephesus. Duke Solinus then sends a fairly hopeless Egeon off with the jailer.", "analysis": ""}
ACT I. SCENE I.

A hall in the DUKE'S palace._

  _Enter DUKE, AEGEON, _Gaoler_, _Officers_, and other _Attendants_._

_Aege._ 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                                 5
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,
Excludes all pity from our threatening looks.                       10
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:                           15
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 levied,
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 condemn'd to die.

_Aege._ 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,                          30
And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus.

_Aege._ 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,                         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; 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,                        45
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                          50
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 meaner woman was delivered                                        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 sail'd,
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 mourn'd 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 fasten'd 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 fix'd,                         85
Fasten'd 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 vapours that offended us;                           90
And, by the benefit of his wished 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!                          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.

_Aege._ O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us!                              100
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,                             105
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;                       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 shipwreck'd 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 sever'd from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,                         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.

_Aege._ 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 retain'd his name--
Might bear him company in the quest of him:                        130
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
Five summers have I spent in furthest 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 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.                         140

_Duke._ Hapless Aegeon, 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,                       145
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.                              150
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.                      155
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.

_Gaol._ I will, my lord.

_Aege._ Hopeless and helpless doth Aegeon wend,
But to procrastinate his lifeless end.

    [_Exeunt._



  NOTES: I, 1.

  A hall ... palace.] Malone. The Duke's palace. Theobald.
    A publick Place. Capell.
  AEGEON,] Rowe. with the Merchant of Siracusa, Ff.
  Officers,] Capell. Officer, Staunton. om. Ff.
  1: _Solinus_] F1. _Salinus_ F2 F3 F4.
  10: _looks_] _books_ Anon. conj.
  14: _Syracusians_] F4. _Siracusians_ F1 F2 F3. _Syracusans_ Pope.
    See note (I).
  16, 17, 18: _Nay more If ... seen At any_] Malone.
    _Nay, more, if ... Ephesus Be seen at any_ Ff.
  18: _any_] om. Pope.
  23: _to ransom_] F1. _ ransom_ F2 F3 F4.
  27: _this_] _'tis_ Hanmer.
  33: _griefs_] F1. _griefe_ F2. _grief_ F3 F4.
  35: _nature_] _fortune_ Collier MS.
  39: _by me_] F1. _by me too_ F2 F3 F4.
  42: _Epidamnum_] Pope. _Epidamium_ Ff. _Epidamnium_ Rowe.
    See note (I).
  43: _the_] _then_ Edd. conj.
  _the ... care ... left_] Theobald. _he ... care ... left_ F1.
    _he ... store ... leaving_ F2 F3 F4.
    _heed ... caves ... left_ Jackson conj.
  _random_] F3 F4. _randone_ F1 F2.
  50: _had she_] Ff. _she had_ Rowe.
  55: _meaner_] Delius (S. Walker conj.). _meane_ F1. _poor meane_ F2.
    _poor mean_ F3 F4.
  56: _burden, male twins_] _burthen male, twins_ F1.
  61, 62: So Pope. One line in Ff.
  61: _soon_] _soon!_] Pope. _soon._ Capell.
  70: _gladly_] _gently_ Collier MS.
  71: _weepings_] F1. _weeping_ F2 F3 F4.
  76: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS.
  79: _latter-_] _elder-_ Rowe.
  86: _either end the mast_] _th' end of either mast_ Hanmer.
  87, 88: _And ... Was_] Ff. _And ... Were_ Rowe.
    _Which ... Was_ Capell.
  91: _wished_] F1. _wish'd_ F2 F3 F4.
  92: _seas wax'd_] _seas waxt_ F1. _seas waxe_ F2. _seas wax_ F3.
    _seas was_ F4. _sea was_ Rowe.
  94: _Epidaurus_] _Epidarus_ F1. _Epidamnus_ Theobald conj.
  103: _upon_] Pope. _up_ F1 _up upon_ F2 F3 F4.
  104: _helpful_] _helpless_ Rowe.
  113: _another_] _the other_ Hanmer.
  115: _healthful_] F1. _helpful_ F2 F3 F4.
  117: _bark_] _backe_ F1.
  120: _That_] _Thus_ Hanmer. _Yet_ Anon. conj.
  122: _sake_] F1. _sakes_ F2 F3 F4.
  124: _hath ... thee_] _have ... they_ F1.
  _of_] om. F4.
  128: _so_] F1. _for_ F2 F3 F4.
  130: _the_] om. Pope.
  131: _I labour'd of a_] _he labour'd of all_ Collier MS.
  144, 145: These lines inverted by Hanmer.
  145: _princes, would they, may_] Hanmer. _Princes would they may_ F1.
    _Princes would, they may_ F2 F3 F4.
  151: _Therefore, merchant, I'll_] Ff. _Therefore merchant, I_ Rowe.
    _I, therefore, merchant_ Pope. _I'll, therefore, merchant_ Capell.
  152: _help ... help_] Ff. _life ... help_ Pope.
    _help ... means_ Steevens conj. _hope ... help_ Collier.
    _fine ... help_ Singer.
  _by_] _thy_ Jackson conj.
  155: _no_] _not_ Rowe.
  156: _Gaoler,_] _Jailor, now_ Hanmer. _So, jailer,_ Capell.
  159: _lifeless_] Warburton. _liveless_ Ff.



Act I, Scene i
Our comedy begins at the Ephesian marketplace, where Solinas, the Duke of Ephesus, is explaining why poor Egeon, a merchant of Syracuse, must die. Solinus says that merchants from Ephesus have been forbidden to enter Syracuse, and merchants from Syracuse have been forbidden to enter Ephesus. The punishment for disobeying? Death, of course. It's harsh, yes, but Solinas wants everyone to know that the Duke of Syracuse started it. Of course, there's a monetary loophole. Egeon can get out of the death sentence by paying a thousand marks. But Duke Solinus comments that Egeon doesn't appear to be worth even 100 marks. Way to kick him when he's down, Solinus. To the Duke's surprise, Egeon says he finds the idea of death comforting. This piques Duke Solinus's curiosity, so he asks how and why Egeon left Syracuse for Ephesus. Egeon declares his grief to be unspeakable, and then immediately begins to talk about it. Egeon wants to clear up that he does not want to die because of some heinous crime he's committed. Rather, his death wish is kind of a natural result of grief, which he's had a lot of in his life. He'll even tell you about it, in great length and detail. Egeon was born in Syracuse, and lived comfortably there with his wife. He made a lot of money traveling between Syracuse and Epidamium as a merchant. When his agent died, he had to stay in Epidamium and take care of business himself. Egeon's wife, who was pregnant at the time, decided to join him. Egeon's wife soon gave birth to identical twin boys, who looked so similar that their names were their only distinguishing feature. As literary devices would have it, a poor woman staying at the very same inn, during the very same hour, happened to also give birth to identical twin boys. Because she was too poor to raise the babies, she sold her children to Egeon, who wanted to raise the boys as companions and attendants for his twin boys. Egeon's wife then started to nag him, saying they should all go home. But, as soon as the family got on the ship to head back to Syracuse, a terrible storm rolls in, threatening to kill everyone. The wife and babes wept, the sailors abandoned ship and ran off in Egeon's lifeboat, and it seemed that nothing could save them. Egeon's wife, worried for the younger of the twins, tied him and one of the servant twins to a small spare mast. Egeon did the same with the other two older boys. Then, Egeon and his wife guarded either end of the mast, each with their respective pair of babies . When the storm started to calm, the family saw two ships approach--one from Corinth, the other from Epidaurus. To make the situation even more of a logic puzzle, Egeon's boat ran into a big rock. The boat was torn in two, separating the two parents . The wife and two babies were rescued by the Corinthian ship, while Egeon and his two boys were picked up by the other. Sadly, the ship that Egeon was in was slow, and headed for home instead of catching up with the ship from Corinth. Thus, Egeon never saw his wife, younger twin son, or his servant ever again. Egeon explains to the Duke that when his son and servant turned eighteen, they got itchy to find their long lost twin brothers, and left Egeon alone. Egeon's son and servant have been gone for five summers, in which time Egeon has roamed around the farthest reaches of Asia trying to find both lost sets of boys. His travels finally brought him to Ephesus. He knows that he risks death by entering Ephesus, but would rather risk death than not look for the boys here. Thus he's lost a wife and two sets of kids, but has acquired a loneliness that's priceless. The Duke basically says to him, "I can't bend the rules, so you're still sentenced to die." Still, he gives Egeon one day to try to raise the 1,000 marks for his bail by begging and borrowing from the folks of Ephesus. Duke Solinus then sends a fairly hopeless Egeon off with the jailer.