feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/sparknotes/The Comedy of Errors/section_0_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Comedy of Errors.act i.scene i
feat_summary_id: act i, scene i
feat_summary: {"name": "Act I, Scene i", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210224233119/https://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/errors/section1/", "summary": "The play opens in the city of Ephesus, with Solinus, the Duke of Ephesus, leading a merchant named Egeon to be executed. Egeon converses with the Duke, and we learn that he is a native of Syracuse, Ephesus' great commercial rival. Because of strife between the two cities, any Syracusan caught in Ephesus must pay an indemnity of a thousand marks, a price that Egeon is unable to meet, or face execution. He seems resigned to his death and declares that the execution will bring an end to his \"woes. \" Curious, the Duke asks him to relate how he came to travel to Ephesus, and Egeon complies. The merchant describes how he was born in Syracuse, and a wife, and prospered through trade with the neighboring city of Epidamnum. Eventually, however, his representative in Epidamnum died, leaving the business in disarray, and Egeon was forced to travel there to set his affairs in order. His pregnant wife went with him and gave birth to identical twin sons. At the same time, a poor woman staying in the same inn also gave birth to identical boys, and Egeon bought her newborns, intending to bring them up as slaves for his sons. Unfortunately, on their return journey to Ephesus, Egeon recounts, their ship was broken apart by a storm, and the sailors abandoned them on the wreckage. His wife tied herself, with one son and one slave, to one of the masts, and he tied himself, the other son, and the other slave to a mast at the other end of the wreck. They floated for a time, while the sea grew calm, and then they saw two ships coming toward them--one from Corinth and one from Epidaurus. Before the ships reached them, however, they ran into a rock that split the wreckage in two, carrying Egeon in one direction and his wife in the other. Eventually, the Corinthian ship rescued Egeon and the one twin whom he was with, but they were unable to catch up to the Epidaurian ship, which had picked up his wife and his other son and carried them away. When the son who remained with him had grown up, Egeon relates, the young man took his slave and set off into the world to find his brother and mother. Egeon himself followed suit, and his wanderings eventually led him to Ephesus, where he was willing to brave arrest and execution in the hopes of finding the missing half of his family. The Duke, hearing this story, is deeply moved, and although he cannot violate his city's laws, he offers Egeon a day of liberty to find someone to ransom his life. Egeon's despair does not lift, however, since the task seems hopeless. Nevertheless, he sets about canvassing the city, searching for assistance.", "analysis": "Commentary These opening speeches, first by the Duke and then by Egeon, serve to locate the play both in a specific time and place and in relation to past events. The time and place is ancient Greece, with its rival city-states of Ephesus, Syracuse, Corinth, and Epidamnum; but it is an Elizabethan version of the Greek world, in which Christian references abound and English debt-officers co-exist with ancient practices of slavery. In other words, it is one of Shakespeare's imagined places, like the pre-Christian England of King Lear and Cymbeline. More important than the setting, from the audience's perspective, is the background information: the conflict between Syracuse and Ephesus that threatens Egeon's life and Egeon's tragic and fantastic family history. The story of the two pairs of twins, who the audience will quickly identify as the Antipholi and Dromios, grants the viewers information that is unavailable to the characters, who grope ignorantly through the mists of mistaken identity that fill the play. We laugh, knowing that there are two masters and two slaves and, thus, understanding how the various mix-ups come to be. But for the unfortunate participants in the farce, there is only confusion at what seem to be supernatural events. This contrast between the audience, who know they are watching a comedy, and the characters, who have no such privileged information, hints at a deeper understanding of the nature of comedy. While The Comedy of Errors is clearly a slapstick affair, in which nearly every scene is played for laughs, the grim opening and later confusion reminds us of the threat of tragedy that often hangs over Shakespeare's comic plays. Certainly, as Egeon catalogues the fantastic woes that have befallen him, he does not see himself as a player in a farce. The threat of his impending execution provides the play with a dark undercurrent to the comic scenes that follow. But while a tragedy moves from order into disorder, from life into death, a comedy reverses the order. So, the play begins with Egeon's grim statement, \"proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, / And by the doom of death end woes and all,\" but moves toward an ending in which the forces of disorder and destruction are overcome by the forces of reconciliation and renewal."}
text: 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.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Act I, Scene i
target: The play opens in the city of Ephesus, with Solinus, the Duke of Ephesus, leading a merchant named Egeon to be executed. Egeon converses with the Duke, and we learn that he is a native of Syracuse, Ephesus' great commercial rival. Because of strife between the two cities, any Syracusan caught in Ephesus must pay an indemnity of a thousand marks, a price that Egeon is unable to meet, or face execution. He seems resigned to his death and declares that the execution will bring an end to his "woes. " Curious, the Duke asks him to relate how he came to travel to Ephesus, and Egeon complies. The merchant describes how he was born in Syracuse, and a wife, and prospered through trade with the neighboring city of Epidamnum. Eventually, however, his representative in Epidamnum died, leaving the business in disarray, and Egeon was forced to travel there to set his affairs in order. His pregnant wife went with him and gave birth to identical twin sons. At the same time, a poor woman staying in the same inn also gave birth to identical boys, and Egeon bought her newborns, intending to bring them up as slaves for his sons. Unfortunately, on their return journey to Ephesus, Egeon recounts, their ship was broken apart by a storm, and the sailors abandoned them on the wreckage. His wife tied herself, with one son and one slave, to one of the masts, and he tied himself, the other son, and the other slave to a mast at the other end of the wreck. They floated for a time, while the sea grew calm, and then they saw two ships coming toward them--one from Corinth and one from Epidaurus. Before the ships reached them, however, they ran into a rock that split the wreckage in two, carrying Egeon in one direction and his wife in the other. Eventually, the Corinthian ship rescued Egeon and the one twin whom he was with, but they were unable to catch up to the Epidaurian ship, which had picked up his wife and his other son and carried them away. When the son who remained with him had grown up, Egeon relates, the young man took his slave and set off into the world to find his brother and mother. Egeon himself followed suit, and his wanderings eventually led him to Ephesus, where he was willing to brave arrest and execution in the hopes of finding the missing half of his family. The Duke, hearing this story, is deeply moved, and although he cannot violate his city's laws, he offers Egeon a day of liberty to find someone to ransom his life. Egeon's despair does not lift, however, since the task seems hopeless. Nevertheless, he sets about canvassing the city, searching for assistance.
feat_summary_analysis: Commentary These opening speeches, first by the Duke and then by Egeon, serve to locate the play both in a specific time and place and in relation to past events. The time and place is ancient Greece, with its rival city-states of Ephesus, Syracuse, Corinth, and Epidamnum; but it is an Elizabethan version of the Greek world, in which Christian references abound and English debt-officers co-exist with ancient practices of slavery. In other words, it is one of Shakespeare's imagined places, like the pre-Christian England of King Lear and Cymbeline. More important than the setting, from the audience's perspective, is the background information: the conflict between Syracuse and Ephesus that threatens Egeon's life and Egeon's tragic and fantastic family history. The story of the two pairs of twins, who the audience will quickly identify as the Antipholi and Dromios, grants the viewers information that is unavailable to the characters, who grope ignorantly through the mists of mistaken identity that fill the play. We laugh, knowing that there are two masters and two slaves and, thus, understanding how the various mix-ups come to be. But for the unfortunate participants in the farce, there is only confusion at what seem to be supernatural events. This contrast between the audience, who know they are watching a comedy, and the characters, who have no such privileged information, hints at a deeper understanding of the nature of comedy. While The Comedy of Errors is clearly a slapstick affair, in which nearly every scene is played for laughs, the grim opening and later confusion reminds us of the threat of tragedy that often hangs over Shakespeare's comic plays. Certainly, as Egeon catalogues the fantastic woes that have befallen him, he does not see himself as a player in a farce. The threat of his impending execution provides the play with a dark undercurrent to the comic scenes that follow. But while a tragedy moves from order into disorder, from life into death, a comedy reverses the order. So, the play begins with Egeon's grim statement, "proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, / And by the doom of death end woes and all," but moves toward an ending in which the forces of disorder and destruction are overcome by the forces of reconciliation and renewal.