feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Comedy of Errors/section_10_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Comedy of Errors.act v.scene i
feat_summary_id: act v, scene i
feat_summary: {"name": "Act V, Scene i", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201219160210/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/comedy-of-errors/summary/act-v-scene-i", "summary": "Angelo the goldsmith apologizes to the Merchant to whom he owes money. Angelo's sorry to have made the Merchant wait, but he's really shocked that E. Antipholus hasn't come through. Then, to everyone's surprise, S. Antipholus approaches, wearing Angelo's necklace. Angelo confronts S. Antipholus about the necklace, and S. Antipholus rightly says he never denied he had it. The Merchant gets involved, and says he heard Antipholus deny he had the necklace he now wears. Tempers get hot and the men draw their swords. Adriana thankfully enters just in time to break up the fight. She tells the Merchant that her husband is mad, and she calls upon others present to bind up the mad men. S. Antipholus and S. Dromio, sensing their doom, run off into the priory and seek sanctuary. Just then an abbess enters, and asks just what exactly everybody thinks they're doing, disturbing God's peace. Adriana informs the Abbess she's just trying to get her man, who's been strange over the last week, but seems to be particularly insane today. The Abbess wonders what it is that has made the man mad. She asks if he's lost money in a sea venture, or perhaps buried a friend, or fallen in love with another woman. Adriana admits it might be the last one about another woman . The Abbess says Adriana should have been more firm about this. Adriana insists she did nag him about it often, and the Abbess decides it was Adriana's nagging that did the man in. The Abbess goes on for a bit, painting Adriana as a nagging shrew, and Luciana is surprised that her sister just lies down and takes it. Adriana says the Abbess's criticisms of her are basically how she would've criticized herself. Regardless, she'd just like them to go into the priory and fetch her husband. The Abbess is all, \"I don't think so.\" She says if the guys went into the priory for sanctuary, it's sanctuary they'll get. The Abbess also insists the man won't leave her care until she tries all sorts of drugs and prayers and \"wholesome syrups\" on him. The Abbess is insistent, and she leaves Adriana distressed and without a man. At Luciana's suggestion, Adriana decides she'll go to the Duke and weep at his feet until he has her husband forcibly removed from the Abbess's care. The Merchant points out that it's 5pm, so the Duke should be along soon to oversee the public beheading of a poor Syracusian merchant for showing up in Ephesus. The Duke enters with Egeon and some officers. He reminds the crowd that if anyone will provide the sum of 1,000 marks, Egeon's life will be spared. Adriana doesn't care so much about Egeon, and instead shouts out that she seeks some other justice, specifically against the tiny old nun. She explains to the Duke that her husband seems mad, and that the Abbess won't let him out of, nor let anyone into, the priory. A messenger arrives and claims that Antipholus and Dromio have broken their bonds and attacked the doctor who has been attending them with fire and scissors. The messenger says Antipholus promised he was coming to get his wife next. Adriana is incredulous, as she thinks her husband is actually in the priory. But she's wrong! Of course, just then, E. Antipholus shows up with E. Dromio. Adriana is shocked and convinced he moves about invisibly, as there's no way to explain how he left the priory without her notice. E. Antipholus pleads that the Duke owes him justice, especially in exchange for all the service E. Antipholus did for him in war. Egeon offers that he recognizes these men as his son and his son's servant, Dromio, but the old man is ignored. Egeon's claims are drowned out by E. Antipholus railing against his wife for abusing and dishonoring him. The Duke then gets the whole story from E. Antipholus's perspective: E. Antipholus complains that his wife locked him out of the house and that Angelo wrongly accused him of taking the golden necklace. Then he was wrongly arrested, and his servant, Dromio, didn't bring his bail. When he finally got fed up and went with the officer to collect the bail from his house, he found his wife with a quack doctor, who declared him possessed and left him tied up and sealed in a dark vault in his own home. He gnawed open his bonds with his own teeth, and escaped to see the Duke. It's been quite a day. All this would be reason to feel really bad for E. Antipholus, but Angelo points out that he actually did give E. Antipholus the necklace, and the man was seen wearing it. The Merchant asks whether E. Antipholus doesn't remember being challenged to a duel and running into the priory . Of course, E. Antipholus has no idea about any of this; S. Antipholus is still locked in the priory, and frankly this whole situation is getting a bit tiresome. The Duke squabbles around about the Courtesan's ring, and finally he decides everyone is mad, and someone should call the Abbess. Egeon finally speaks up, saying he thinks he's found men to pay his bond. He identifies Antipholus and Dromio correctly, but they have no idea who he is. He laments that he must appear much changed by grief, and then gives a beautiful speech about the passage of time. Though his face is grizzled and wrinkled, and he hasn't aged gracefully, he says his memory still glimmers--he recognizes in this man his son, Antipholus. Antipholus of Ephesus, seemingly unmoved, offers that he's never met his dad. Like, ever. Egeon is insistent, he says it's only been seven years since the men parted in Syracuse. He wonders if his son is ashamed to acknowledge him because of his miserable state. E. Antipholus insists he's never even been to Syracuse and the Duke also asserts that he's known E. Antipholus for twenty years, and the young man has never been to Syracuse in all that time. Egeon is about to be dismissed as a doddering old man when the Abbess enters. Actually, not only has the Abbess come, she's brought with her Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse. Finally, everyone is face to face with the two sets of identical twins. The Abbess reveals that she's Aemilia, Egeon's long lost wife. After the shipwreck, her boys were taken from her by some Corinthian fisherman, leaving her alone in Epidamium. She didn't know what happened to them from there, but it's been her lot to live as a nun ever since. The Duke dons his Captain Obvious hat and declares, \"These sets of identical twins are long lost brothers. The Antipholuses are sons of Egeon and Aemilia, and the Dromios are the two servant boys!\" The boys who were taken to Corinth by the fisherman explain that they eventually came to Ephesus with the warrior Duke Menaphon, who is the Duke's uncle. Moving briskly along, the pairs then clear up the calamity about who had dinner with Adriana, who got the necklace, who was sent for bail money, and who brought bail money. E. Antipholus tries to pay the Duke bail for his father, but the Duke demurs, and instead just grants Egeon his life. The Courtesan gets her ring back; Egeon gets his sons back; and Aemilia gets her husband back. Also, now that it's clear that he isn't Adriana's husband, S. Antipholus reiterates his offer to Luciana to be her husband and give her happiness. Finally, Aemilia ushers everyone into the abbey so they can talk over that bad, fateful day when they were separated, and the fateful day that's brought them together again.", "analysis": ""}
text: ACT V. SCENE I.
  
  A street before a Priory.
  
    _Enter _Second Merchant_ and ANGELO._
  
  _Ang._ I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you;
  But, I protest, he had the chain of me,
  Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ How is the man esteem'd here in the city?
  
  _Ang._ Of very reverent reputation, sir,                             5
  Of credit infinite, highly beloved,
  Second to none that lives here in the city:
  His word might bear my wealth at any time.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks.
  
    _Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_ and _DROMIO of Syracuse_._
  
  _Ang._ 'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck,                 10
  Which he forswore most monstrously to have.
  Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him;
  Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
  That you would put me to this shame and trouble;
  And, not without some scandal to yourself,                          15
  With circumstance and oaths so to deny
  This chain which now you wear so openly:
  Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
  You have done wrong to this my honest friend;
  Who, but for staying on our controversy,                            20
  Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day:
  This chain you had of me; can you deny it?
  
  _Ant. S._ I think I had; I never did deny it.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.
  
  _Ant. S._ Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?                   25
  
  _Sec. Mer._ These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee.
  Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou livest
  To walk where any honest men resort.
  
  _Ant. S._ Thou art a villain to impeach me thus:
  I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty                             30
  Against thee presently, if thou darest stand.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
  
      [_They draw._
  
    _Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the _Courtezan_, and others._
  
  _Adr._ Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake! he is mad.
  Some get within him, take his sword away:
  Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.                         35
  
  _Dro. S._ Run, master, run; for God's sake, take a house!
  This is some priory.--In, or we are spoil'd!
  
      [_Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S. to the Priory._
  
    _Enter the _Lady Abbess_._
  
  _Abb._ Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither?
  
  _Adr._ To fetch my poor distracted husband hence.
  Let us come in, that we may bind him fast,                          40
  And bear him home for his recovery.
  
  _Ang._ I knew he was not in his perfect wits.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ I am sorry now that I did draw on him.
  
  _Abb._ How long hath this possession held the man?
  
  _Adr._ This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad,                     45
  And much different from the man he was;
  But till this afternoon his passion
  Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.
  
  _Abb._ Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea?
  Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye                      50
  Stray'd his affection in unlawful love?
  A sin prevailing much in youthful men,
  Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
  Which of these sorrows is he subject to?
  
  _Adr._ To none of these, except it be the last;                     55
  Namely, some love that drew him oft from home.
  
  _Abb._ You should for that have reprehended him.
  
  _Adr._ Why, so I did.
  
  _Abb._              Ay, but not rough enough.
  
  _Adr._ As roughly as my modesty would let me.
  
  _Abb._ Haply, in private.
  
  _Adr._                  And in assemblies too.                      60
  
  _Abb._ Ay, but not enough.
  
  _Adr._ It was the copy of our conference:
  In bed, he slept not for my urging it;
  At board, he fed not for my urging it;
  Alone, it was the subject of my theme;                              65
  In company I often glanced it;
  Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.
  
  _Abb._ And thereof came it that the man was mad:--
  The venom clamours of a jealous woman,
  Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.                         70
  It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing:
  And thereof comes it that his head is light.
  Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings:
  Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
  Thereof the raging fire of fever bred;                              75
  And what's a fever but a fit of madness?
  Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls:
  Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
  But moody and dull melancholy,
  Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair;                            80
  And at her heels a huge infectious troop
  Of pale distemperatures and foes to life?
  In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest
  To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast:
  The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits                          85
  Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.
  
  _Luc._ She never reprehended him but mildly,
  When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly.
  Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not?
  
  _Adr._ She did betray me to my own reproof.                         90
  Good people, enter, and lay hold on him.
  
  _Abb._ No, not a creature enters in my house.
  
  _Adr._ Then let your servants bring my husband forth.
  
  _Abb._ Neither: he took this place for sanctuary,
  And it shall privilege him from your hands                          95
  Till I have brought him to his wits again,
  Or lose my labour in assaying it.
  
  _Adr._ I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
  Diet his sickness, for it is my office,
  And will have no attorney but myself;                              100
  And therefore let me have him home with me.
  
  _Abb._ Be patient; for I will not let him stir
  Till I have used the approved means I have,
  With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers,
  To make of him a formal man again:                                 105
  It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
  A charitable duty of my order.
  Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.
  
  _Adr._ I will not hence, and leave my husband here:
  And ill it doth beseem your holiness                               110
  To separate the husband and the wife.
  
  _Abb._ Be quiet, and depart: thou shalt not have him.
      [_Exit._
  
  _Luc._ Complain unto the Duke of this indignity.
  
  _Adr._ Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet,
  And never rise until my tears and prayers                          115
  Have won his Grace to come in person hither,
  And take perforce my husband from the abbess.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ By this, I think, the dial points at five:
  Anon, I'm sure, the Duke himself in person
  Comes this way to the melancholy vale,                             120
  The place of death and sorry execution,
  Behind the ditches of the abbey here.
  
  _Ang._ Upon what cause?
  
  _Sec. Mer._ To see a reverend Syracusian merchant,
  Who put unluckily into this bay                                    125
  Against the laws and statutes of this town,
  Beheaded publicly for his offence.
  
  _Ang._ See where they come: we will behold his death.
  
  _Luc._ Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey.
  
    _Enter DUKE, attended; AEGEON bareheaded; with the _Headsman_
    and other _Officers_._
  
  _Duke._ Yet once again proclaim it publicly,                       130
  If any friend will pay the sum for him,
  He shall not die; so much we tender him.
  
  _Adr._ Justice, most sacred Duke, against the abbess!
  
  _Duke._ She is a virtuous and a reverend lady:
  It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.                        135
  
  _Adr._ May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husband,--
  Whom I made lord of me and all I had,
  At your important letters,--this ill day
  A most outrageous fit of madness took him;
  That desperately he hurried through the street,--                  140
  With him his bondman, all as mad as he,--
  Doing displeasure to the citizens
  By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
  Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like.
  Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,                       145
  Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went,
  That here and there his fury had committed.
  Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,
  He broke from those that had the guard of him;
  And with his mad attendant and himself,                            150
  Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords,
  Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
  Chased us away; till, raising of more aid,
  We came again to bind them. Then they fled
  Into this abbey, whither we pursued them;                          155
  And here the abbess shuts the gates on us,
  And will not suffer us to fetch him out,
  Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence.
  Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy command
  Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.                160
  
  _Duke._ Long since thy husband served me in my wars;
  And I to thee engaged a prince's word,
  When thou didst make him master of thy bed,
  To do him all the grace and good I could.
  Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate,                          165
  And bid the lady abbess come to me.
  I will determine this before I stir.
  
    _Enter a _Servant_._
  
  _Serv._ O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself!
  My master and his man are both broke loose,
  Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor,                      170
  Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire;
  And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him
  Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair:
  My master preaches patience to him, and the while
  His man with scissors nicks him like a fool;                       175
  And sure, unless you send some present help,
  Between them they will kill the conjurer.
  
  _Adr._ Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here;
  And that is false thou dost report to us.
  
  _Serv._ Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true;                   180
  I have not breathed almost since I did see it.
  He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you,
  To scorch your face and to disfigure you.    [_Cry within._
  Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress: fly, be gone!
  
  _Duke._ Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard with halberds!      185
  
  _Adr._ Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you,
  That he is borne about invisible:
  Even now we housed him in the abbey here;
  And now he's there, past thought of human reason.
  
    _Enter _ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus_ and _DROMIO of Ephesus_._
  
  _Ant. E._ Justice, most gracious Duke, O, grant me justice!        190
  Even for the service that long since I did thee,
  When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took
  Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood
  That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.
  
  _Aege._ Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,                195
  I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio.
  
  _Ant. E._ Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there!
  She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife,
  That hath abused and dishonour'd me
  Even in the strength and height of injury:                         200
  Beyond imagination is the wrong
  That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
  
  _Duke._ Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
  
  _Ant. E._ This day, great Duke, she shut the doors upon me,
  While she with harlots feasted in my house.                        205
  
  _Duke._ A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst thou so?
  
  _Adr._ No, my good lord: myself, he and my sister
  To-day did dine together. So befal my soul
  As this is false he burdens me withal!
  
  _Luc._ Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,                210
  But she tells to your Highness simple truth!
  
  _Ang._ O perjured woman! They are both forsworn:
  In this the madman justly chargeth them.
  
  _Ant. E._ My liege, I am advised what I say;
  Neither disturbed with the effect of wine,                         215
  Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire,
  Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
  This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner:
  That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
  Could witness it, for he was with me then;                         220
  Who parted with me to go fetch a chain,
  Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
  Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
  Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
  I went to seek him: in the street I met him,                       225
  And in his company that gentleman.
  There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down
  That I this day of him received the chain,
  Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which
  He did arrest me with an officer.                                  230
  I did obey; and sent my peasant home
  For certain ducats: he with none return'd.
  Then fairly I bespoke the officer
  To go in person with me to my house.
  By the way we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more           235
  Of vile confederates. Along with them
  They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain,
  A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
  A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
  A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,                        240
  A living-dead man: this pernicious slave,
  Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
  And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
  And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
  Cries out, I was possess'd. Then all together                      245
  They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence,
  And in a dark and dankish vault at home
  There left me and my man, both bound together;
  Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
  I gain'd my freedom, and immediately                               250
  Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech
  To give me ample satisfaction
  For these deep shames and great indignities.
  
  _Ang._ My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him,
  That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out.                     255
  
  _Duke._ But had he such a chain of thee or no?
  
  _Ang._ He had, my lord: and when he ran in here,
  These people saw the chain about his neck.
  
  _Sec. Mer._ Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine
  Heard you confess you had the chain of him,                        260
  After you first forswore it on the mart:
  And thereupon I drew my sword on you;
  And then you fled into this abbey here,
  From whence, I think, you are come by miracle.
  
  _Ant. E._ I never came within these abbey-walls;                   265
  Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me:
  I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven:
  And this is false you burden me withal!
  
  _Duke._ Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
  I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup.                         270
  If here you housed him, here he would have been;
  If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly:
  You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here
  Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you?
  
  _Dro. E._ Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porpentine.         275
  
  _Cour._ He did; and from my finger snatch'd that ring.
  
  _Ant. E._ 'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her.
  
  _Duke._ Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here?
  
  _Cour._ As sure, my liege, as I do see your Grace.
  
  _Duke._ Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither.           280
  I think you are all mated, or stark mad.
  
      [_Exit one to the Abbess._
  
  _Aege._ Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
  Haply I see a friend will save my life,
  And pay the sum that may deliver me.
  
  _Duke._ Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt.                  285
  
  _Aege._ Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus?
  And is not that your bondman, Dromio?
  
  _Dro. E._ Within this hour I was his bondman, sir,
  But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords:
  Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound.                              290
  
  _Aege._ I am sure you both of you remember me.
  
  _Dro. E._ Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;
  For lately we were bound, as you are now.
  You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir?
  
  _Aege._ Why look you strange on me? you know me well.              295
  
  _Ant. E._ I never saw you in my life till now.
  
  _Aege._ O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
  And careful hours with time's deformed hand
  Have written strange defeatures in my face:
  But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?                      300
  
  _Ant. E._ Neither.
  
  _Aege._ Dromio, nor thou?
  
  _Dro. E._              No, trust me, sir, nor I.
  
  _Aege._ I am sure thou dost.
  
  _Dro. E._ Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not; and whatsoever
  a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.                    305
  
  _Aege._ Not know my voice! O time's extremity,
  Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue
  In seven short years, that here my only son
  Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares?
  Though now this grained face of mine be hid                        310
  In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
  And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
  Yet hath my night of life some memory,
  My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,
  My dull deaf ears a little use to hear:                            315
  All these old witnesses--I cannot err--
  Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.
  
  _Ant. E._ I never saw my father in my life.
  
  _Aege._ But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy,
  Thou know'st we parted: but perhaps, my son,                       320
  Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery.
  
  _Ant. E._ The Duke and all that know me in the city
  Can witness with me that it is not so:
  I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.
  
  _Duke._ I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years                      325
  Have I been patron to Antipholus,
  During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa:
  I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
  
    _Re-enter _Abbess_, with _ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse_ and
    _DROMIO of Syracuse_._
  
  _Abb._ Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wrong'd.
  
      [_All gather to see them._
  
  _Adr._ I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.                330
  
  _Duke._ One of these men is Genius to the other;
  And so of these. Which is the natural man,
  And which the spirit? who deciphers them?
  
  _Dro. S._ I, sir, am Dromio: command him away.
  
  _Dro. E._ I, sir, am Dromio: pray, let me stay.                    335
  
  _Ant. S._ Aegeon art thou not? or else his ghost?
  
  _Dro. S._ O, my old master! who hath bound him here?
  
  _Abb._ Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,
  And gain a husband by his liberty.
  Speak, old Aegeon, if thou be'st the man                           340
  That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia,
  That bore thee at a burden two fair sons:
  O, if thou be'st the same Aegeon, speak,
  And speak unto the same Aemilia!
  
  _Aege._ If I dream not, thou art Aemilia:                          345
  If thou art she, tell me where is that son
  That floated with thee on the fatal raft?
  
  _Abb._ By men of Epidamnum he and I
  And the twin Dromio, all were taken up;
  But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth                            350
  By force took Dromio and my son from them,
  And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
  What then became of them I cannot tell;
  I to this fortune that you see me in.
  
  _Duke._ Why, here begins his morning story right:                  355
  These two Antipholuses, these two so like,
  And these two Dromios, one in semblance,--
  Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,--
  These are the parents to these children,
  Which accidentally are met together.                               360
  Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first?
  
  _Ant. S._ No, sir, not I; I came from Syracuse.
  
  _Duke._ Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which.
  
  _Ant. E._ I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord,--
  
  _Dro. E._ And I with him.                                          365
  
  _Ant. E._ Brought to this town by that most famous warrior.
  Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
  
  _Adr._ Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
  
  _Ant. S._ I, gentle mistress.
  
  _Adr._                      And are not you my husband?
  
  _Ant. E._ No; I say nay to that.                                   370
  
  _Ant. S._ And so do I; yet did she call me so:
  And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,
  Did call me brother. [_To Lucia._] What I told you then,
  I hope I shall have leisure to make good;
  If this be not a dream I see and hear.                             375
  
  _Ang._ That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
  
  _Ant. S._ I think it be, sir; I deny it not.
  
  _Ant. E._ And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.
  
  _Ang._ I think I did, sir; I deny it not.
  
  _Adr._ I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,                     380
  By Dromio; but I think he brought it not.
  
  _Dro. E._ No, none by me.
  
  _Ant. S._ This purse of ducats I received from you,
  And Dromio my man did bring them me.
  I see we still did meet each other's man;                          385
  And I was ta'en for him, and he for me;
  And thereupon these ERRORS are arose.
  
  _Ant. E._ These ducats pawn I for my father here.
  
  _Duke._ It shall not need; thy father hath his life.
  
  _Cour._ Sir, I must have that diamond from you.                    390
  
  _Ant. E._ There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer.
  
  _Abb._ Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains
  To go with us into the abbey here,
  And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes;--
  And all that are assembled in this place,                          395
  That by this sympathized one day's error
  Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company,
  And we shall make full satisfaction.--
  Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail
  Of you, my sons; and till this present hour                        400
  My heavy burthen ne'er delivered.
  The Duke, my husband, and my children both,
  And you the calendars of their nativity,
  Go to a gossips' feast, and go with me;
  After so long grief, such nativity!                                405
  
  _Duke._ With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast.
  
      [_Exeunt all but Ant. S., Ant. E., Dro. S., and Dro. E._
  
  _Dro. S._ Master, shall I fetch your stuff from ship-board?
  
  _Ant. E._ Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?
  
  _Dro. S._ Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.
  
  _Ant. S._ He speaks to me. --I am your master, Dromio:             410
  Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon:
  Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.
  
      [_Exeunt Ant. S. and Ant. E._
  
  _Dro. S._ There is a fat friend at your master's house,
  That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner:
  She now shall be my sister, not my wife.                           415
  
  _Dro. E._ Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother:
  I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
  Will you walk in to see their gossiping?
  
  _Dro. S._ Not I, sir; you are my elder.
  
  _Dro. E._ That's a question: how shall we try it?                  420
  
  _Dro. S._ We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then lead
          thou first.
  
  _Dro. E._ Nay, then, thus:--
  We came into the world like brother and brother;
  And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
  
      [_Exeunt._
  
  
    NOTES: V, 1.
  
    SCENE I. A street ... Priory] Pope. See note (VIII).
    3: _doth_] F1. _did_ F2 F3 F4.
    9: Enter ...] Enter Antipholis and Dromio againe. Ff.
    12: _to me_] _with me_ Collier MS.
    18: _Beside_] Ff. _Besides_ Pope.
    26: _know'st ... thee._] Ff. _knowest ... thee._ Pope.
      _knowest well ... thee._ Hanmer. _know'st ... thee, sir._ Capell.
      _know'st ... thee swear_ Grant White conj.
    30: _mine honesty_] F1 F2 F3. _my honesty_ F4.
    33: SCENE II. Pope.
    33, 36: _God's ... God's_] F3 F4. _God ... God's_ F1 F2.
    38: _quiet, people._] Theobald. _quiet people._ Ff.
    45: _sour_] Rowe. _sower_ Ff.
    46: _much_] F1 F4. _much, much_ F2 F3.
    49: _of sea_] F1. _at sea_ F2 F3 F4.
    50: _Hath not else his eye_] _Hath nought else his eye?_ Anon. conj.
    51: _his ... in_] _in ... and_ Anon. conj.
    61: _Ay_] _Ay, ay_ Hanmer.
    66: _it_] _at it_ Pope.
    69: _venom_] _venome_ F1 F2. _venomous_ F3 F4. _venom'd_ Pope.
    _woman,_] _woman_ Pope.
    69, 70: _clamours ... Poisons_] _clamours ... Poison_ Pope.
      _clamour ... Poisons_ Capell.
    72, 75: _thereof_] _therefore_ Johnson.
    74: _make_] F1. _makes_ F2 F3 F4.
    77: _by_] _with_ Pope.
    79: _moody_] F1. _muddy_ F2 F3 F4.] _moody, moping_ Hanmer.
      _moody sadness_ Singer conj.
    _melancholy_] _melancholia_ Anon. conj.
    80: _Kinsman_] _kins-woman_ Capell. ending line 79 at _kins-_.
      _A'kin_ Hanmer.
    Warburton marks this line as spurious.
    81: _her_] _their_ Malone (Heath conj.).
    86: _Have_] F2 F3 F4. _Hath_ F1.
    88: _wildly_] _wild_ Capell.
    89: _these_] F1 F2. _those_ F3 F4.
    112: [Exit.] Theobald.
    117: [Exeunt. Enter Merchant and Goldsmith. F2.
    121: _death_] F3 F4. _depth_ F1 F2.
    _sorry_] _solemn_ Collier MS.
    124: _reverend_ F3 F4. _reverent_ F1 F2.
    128: Enter Adriana and Lucia. F2.
    130: SCENE III. Pope.
    attended] Theobald.
    132: Enter Adriana. F2.
    134: _reverend_] Ff.
    137: _Whom_] F2 F3 F4. _Who_ F1.
    138: _important_] F1. _impoteant_ F2. _impotent_ F3 F4.
      _all-potent_ Rowe.
    _letters_] F1 F2 F3. _letter_ F4.
    148: _strong_] _strange_ Malone conj.
    150: _with_] _here_ Capell. _then_ Ritson conj.
    _and himself_] mad himself Warburton.
    158: _hence_] F1 F2. _thence_ F3 F4.
    168: SCENE IV. Pope.
    Enter a servant.] Capell. Enter a Messenger. Ff.
    174: _to him_] om. Capell.
    _and_] om. Hanmer. _and the_ om. Steevens.
    176: _some_] F1 _some other_ F2 F3 F4.
    179: _to_] F1 F3 F4. _of_ F2.
    183: _scorch_] _scotch_ Warburton.
    205: _While_] F1 _Whilst_ F2 F3 F4.
    208: _To-day_] om. Hanmer.
    _So befal_] _So fall_ Capell.
    212, 213: [To Mer. Capell.
    228: _of_] F1. _from_ F2 F3 F4.
    235: _By the way_] _To which he yielded: by the way_ Capell,
      making two verses of 235. See note (IX).
    235, 236: Pope ends these lines _and ... confederates_.
    236: _Along with them_] om. Pope.
    247: _And in_] _Into_ Lettsom conj.
    248: _There_] _They_ Collier MS.
    249: _in sunder_] F1. _asunder_ F2 F3 F4.
    267, 268: _chain, so ... Heaven: And_] _chain. So ... heaven As_
      Dyce.
    281: _mad_] _made_ F2.
    [Exit ...] F1 F2. [Enter ... F3 F4.
    291: _you both_] F1. _both_ F2 F3 F4.
    298: _deformed_] _deforming_ Capell.
    304: _Ay, sir,_] Capell. _I sir,_ Ff. _I, sir?_ Pope.
      _Ay, sir?_ Malone.
    304, 305: Printed as verse by Capell: _But ... whatsoever A ... him_.
    307: _crack'd and splitted_] _crack'd my voice, split_ Collier MS.
    309: _of untuned cares_] _untuned of cares_ Anon. conj.
    _cares_] _ears_ Anon. conj.
    314: _lamps_] _lamp_ Pope.
    316: _All_] _And all_ Rowe.
    _old_] _hold_ Warburton.
    _witnesses--I cannot err--_] _witnesses, I cannot erre._ Ff.
    319: _Syracusa, boy_] Capell. _Syracusa boy_ Ff. _Syracusa bay_ Rowe.
      _Syracusa's bay_ Hanmer.
    329: SCENE VII. Pope.
    [All ... them.] [All ... him. Warburton.
    332: _these. Which_] _these, which_ Ff.
    355-360: _Why ... together_] Ff insert this speech after 344.
      The alteration is due to Capell.
    355: _his_] F1 F2. _this_ F3 F4. _the_ Pope.
    _story right_] _story's light_ Capell.
    356: _Antipholuses, these_] _Antipholus, these_ F1.
      _Antipholis, these_ F2 F3 F4. _Antipholis's_ Hanmer. See note (I).
    357: _these_] F1 F4. _those_ F2 F3.
    _semblance_] _semblance prove_ Capell.
    358: _Besides her urging of her_]
      _Both sides emerging from their_ Hanmer.
      _Besides his urging of his_ Collier MS.
      _Besides his urging of her_ Dyce conj.
      Malone supposes a line, beginning with _These_, lost after 358.
    _wreck at sea,--_] _wreck,--all say,_ Jackson conj.
    359: _These are_] _These plainly are_ Pope.
    361: Ff prefix 'Duke.'
    372: _her sister_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
    373: [To Lucia.] [Aside to Lucia. Staunton conj.
    387: _are arose_] Ff. _all arose_ Rowe. _rare arose_ Staunton.
      _here arose_ Anon. conj.
    394: _hear_] _here_ Johnson.
    398: _we shall make_] _ye shalt have_ Pope.
    399: _Thirty-three_] Ff. _Twenty-five_ Theobald.
      _Twenty-three_ Capell. See note (X).
    _but_] F1. _been_ F2 F3 F4. om. Hanmer.
    400: _and till_] _nor till_ Theobald. _until_ Malone (Boaden conj.).
      _and at_ Collier MS.
    401: _burthen ne'er_] Dyce. _burthen are_ F1.
      _burthens are_ F2 F3 F4. _burden not_ Capell.
      _burden undelivered_ Collier. _burden here_ Grant White.
      _burden has_ Anon. conj. (ap. Halliwell).
    404: _Go ... and go_] _Hence ... along_ Lettsom conj.
      _So ... all go_ Edd. conj.
    _and go_] F1 F3 F4. _and goe_ F2. _and gaud_ Warburton.
      _and joy_ Heath conj. _and gout_ Jackson conj. _and see_
      Anon. conj.
    405: _nativity_] Ff. _felicity_ Hanmer. _festivity_ Dyce
      (Johnson conj.).
    _such nativity!_] _suits festivity._ Anon. conj.
    406: [Exeunt ...] [Exeunt omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two
      brothers. Ff.
    407: SCENE VIII. Pope.
    _fetch_] _go fetch_ S. Walker conj.
    _ship-board_] _shipboard for you_ Capell conj.
    412: [Exeunt ...] [Exit. Ff.
    420: _we try it?_] _we trie it._ F1 _I try it._ F2 F3 F4.
      _we try it, brother?_ Capell.
    421: _We'll_] _We will_ Capell, ending lines 419-421 at
      _question ... draw ... first._
    _senior_] Pope. _signior_ F1 F2. _signiority_ F3 F4.
    422: [embracing. Rowe.
  
  
  
  NOTES.
  
  
  NOTE I.
  
  
  In the spelling of the name of 'Solinus' we have followed the first
  Folio. In the subsequent Folios it was altered, most probably by an
  accident in F2 to 'Salinus.' The name occurs only once in the copies,
  and that in the first line of the text. The name which we have given as
  'Antipholus' is spelt indifferently thus, and 'Antipholis' in the
  Folios. It will hardly be doubted that the lines in the rhyming passage,
  III. 2. 2, 4, where the Folios read 'Antipholus,' are correctly amended
  by Capell, and prove that 'Antipholus' is the spelling of Shakespeare.
  Either word is evidently corrupted from 'Antiphilus.' These names are
  merely arbitrary, but the surnames, 'Erotes' and 'Sereptus,' are most
  probably errors for 'Errans,' or 'Erraticus' and 'Surreptus,' of which
  the latter is plainly derived from Plautus' _Menaechmus Surreptus_,
  a well-known character in Shakespeare's day: see Brian Melbancke's
  _Philotimus_ (1582), p. 160: 'Thou art like Menechmus Subreptus his wife
  ... whose "husband shall not neede to be justice of peace" for she "will
  have a charter to make her justice of coram."' See _Merry Wives_, I. 1.
  4, 5. In spelling 'Syracusian' instead of 'Syracusan' we follow the
  practice of the Folios in an indifferent matter. 'Epidamnum' not
  'Epidamium' is found in the English translation of the _Menaechmi_,
  1595, so the latter form in F1 is probably a printer's error.
  
  
  NOTE II.
  
  I. 2. 1. That this scene is laid at the Mart appears from Antipholus's
  allusion to this place in II. 2. 5, 6:
  
    'I could not speak with Dromio since at first
     I sent him from the mart.'
  
  As this play is derived from a classical prototype, Capell has supposed
  no change of scene, but lays the whole action in 'a Publick Place;'
  evidently with much inconvenience to the Persons.
  
  
  NOTE III.
  
  II. 1. 30. Johnson's ingenious conjecture may have been suggested to him
  by a passage in _As you like it_, IV. 3. 17:
  
    'Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.'
  
  But the received reading of the Folios is perhaps confirmed by a line in
  the present play, III. 2. 7:
  
    'Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth.'
  
  
  NOTE IV.
  
  II. 1. 108 sqq. The only correction of this passage which we believe to
  be quite free from doubt is that in line 112, 'Wear' for 'Where.'
  Accordingly, with this exception, we have retained the precise words of
  the first Folio.
  
  
  NOTE V.
  
  IV. 2. 38. Grey's conjecture of 'lanes' for 'lands' is made somewhat
  more probable by the existence of copies of F1 in which the word
  appears 'lans.' A corrector would naturally change this rather to
  'lands' than to 'lanes,' because of the rhyme.
  
  
  NOTE VI.
  
  IV. 2. 46. The Folios have 'send him Mistris redemption,' and Rowe, by
  his punctuation and capital R, made Dromio call Luciana 'Redemption.'
  Pope and Theobald seem to have followed him, though they give the small
  r. The Folios cannot be made chargeable with this error, for the comma
  does not regularly follow vocatives in these editions where we expect
  it. There is no comma, for instance, following the word 'Mistress' in
  IV. 3. 75 or in IV. 4. 39.
  
  
  NOTE VII.
  
  IV. 4. 29. The word 'ears' might probably be better printed ''ears' for
  'years;' for a pun--hitherto, however, unnoticed--seems to be indicated
  by the following words. A very farfetched explanation has been offered
  by Steevens, and accepted by Delius and, we believe, by all the modern
  editors, namely, that Antipholus has wrung Dromio's ears so often that
  they have attained a length like an ass's.
  
  
  NOTE VIII.
  
  V. 1. 1. Shakespeare uses the words 'Priory' and 'Abbey' as synonymous.
  Compare V. 1. 37 and V. 1. 122.
  
  
  NOTE IX.
  
  V. 1. 235. It might possibly be better to print this line as two lines,
  the first being broken:
  
    'By the way we met
     My wife....'
  
  But the place is probably corrupt.
  
  
  NOTE X.
  
  V. 1. 399. The number Thirty-three has been altered by editors to bring
  the figures into harmony with other periods named in the play. From
  I. 1. 126, 133 the age of Antipholus has been computed at twenty-three;
  from I. 1. 126 and V. 1. 308 we derive twenty-five. The Duke says he has
  been patron to Antipholus for twenty years, V. 1. 325; but three or five
  seems too small an age to assign for the commencement of this patronage.
  Antipholus saved the Duke's life in the wars 'long since,' V. 1. 161,
  191. His 'long experience' of his wife's 'wisdom' and her 'years' are
  mentioned, III. 1. 89, 90. But Shakespeare probably did not compute the
  result of his own figures with any great care or accuracy.
  
         *       *       *       *       *
             *       *       *       *
         *       *       *       *       *
  
  Sources:
  
  The editors' Preface (e-text 23041) discusses the 17th- and
  18th-century editions in detail; the newer (19th-century) editions
  are simply listed by name. The following editions may appear in the
  Notes. All inset text is quoted from the Preface.
  
    Folios:
    F1 1623; F2 (no date given); F3 1663; F4 1685.
      "The five plays contained in this volume occur in the first Folio
      in the same order, and ... were there printed for the first time."
  
    Early editions:
    Rowe 1709
    Pope 1715
      "Pope was the first to indicate the _place_ of each new scene;
      as, for instance, _Tempest_, I. 1. 'On a ship at sea.' He also
      subdivided the scenes as given by the Folios and Rowe, making
      a fresh scene whenever a new character entered--an arrangement
      followed by Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson. For convenience of
      reference to these editions, we have always recorded the
      commencement of Pope's scenes."
    Theobald 1733
    Hanmer ("Oxford edition") 1744
    Warburton 1747
    Johnson 1765
    Capell 1768; _also Capell's annotated copy of F2_
    Steevens 1773
    Malone 1790
    Reed 1803
  
    Later editions:
    Singer, Knight, Cornwall, Collier, Phelps, Halliwell, Dyce, Staunton
  
         *       *       *       *       *
             *       *       *       *
         *       *       *       *       *
  
  Errata
  
    IV. 2. 17 note: ... Anon.  [Aonn.]
    Note IV. ... line 112, 'Wear' for 'Where.'  [line 111]
    Note VI. ... the word 'Mistress' in / IV. 3. 75 ...  [IV. 3. 74]
  
feat_summary_name: Act V, Scene i
target: Angelo the goldsmith apologizes to the Merchant to whom he owes money. Angelo's sorry to have made the Merchant wait, but he's really shocked that E. Antipholus hasn't come through. Then, to everyone's surprise, S. Antipholus approaches, wearing Angelo's necklace. Angelo confronts S. Antipholus about the necklace, and S. Antipholus rightly says he never denied he had it. The Merchant gets involved, and says he heard Antipholus deny he had the necklace he now wears. Tempers get hot and the men draw their swords. Adriana thankfully enters just in time to break up the fight. She tells the Merchant that her husband is mad, and she calls upon others present to bind up the mad men. S. Antipholus and S. Dromio, sensing their doom, run off into the priory and seek sanctuary. Just then an abbess enters, and asks just what exactly everybody thinks they're doing, disturbing God's peace. Adriana informs the Abbess she's just trying to get her man, who's been strange over the last week, but seems to be particularly insane today. The Abbess wonders what it is that has made the man mad. She asks if he's lost money in a sea venture, or perhaps buried a friend, or fallen in love with another woman. Adriana admits it might be the last one about another woman . The Abbess says Adriana should have been more firm about this. Adriana insists she did nag him about it often, and the Abbess decides it was Adriana's nagging that did the man in. The Abbess goes on for a bit, painting Adriana as a nagging shrew, and Luciana is surprised that her sister just lies down and takes it. Adriana says the Abbess's criticisms of her are basically how she would've criticized herself. Regardless, she'd just like them to go into the priory and fetch her husband. The Abbess is all, "I don't think so." She says if the guys went into the priory for sanctuary, it's sanctuary they'll get. The Abbess also insists the man won't leave her care until she tries all sorts of drugs and prayers and "wholesome syrups" on him. The Abbess is insistent, and she leaves Adriana distressed and without a man. At Luciana's suggestion, Adriana decides she'll go to the Duke and weep at his feet until he has her husband forcibly removed from the Abbess's care. The Merchant points out that it's 5pm, so the Duke should be along soon to oversee the public beheading of a poor Syracusian merchant for showing up in Ephesus. The Duke enters with Egeon and some officers. He reminds the crowd that if anyone will provide the sum of 1,000 marks, Egeon's life will be spared. Adriana doesn't care so much about Egeon, and instead shouts out that she seeks some other justice, specifically against the tiny old nun. She explains to the Duke that her husband seems mad, and that the Abbess won't let him out of, nor let anyone into, the priory. A messenger arrives and claims that Antipholus and Dromio have broken their bonds and attacked the doctor who has been attending them with fire and scissors. The messenger says Antipholus promised he was coming to get his wife next. Adriana is incredulous, as she thinks her husband is actually in the priory. But she's wrong! Of course, just then, E. Antipholus shows up with E. Dromio. Adriana is shocked and convinced he moves about invisibly, as there's no way to explain how he left the priory without her notice. E. Antipholus pleads that the Duke owes him justice, especially in exchange for all the service E. Antipholus did for him in war. Egeon offers that he recognizes these men as his son and his son's servant, Dromio, but the old man is ignored. Egeon's claims are drowned out by E. Antipholus railing against his wife for abusing and dishonoring him. The Duke then gets the whole story from E. Antipholus's perspective: E. Antipholus complains that his wife locked him out of the house and that Angelo wrongly accused him of taking the golden necklace. Then he was wrongly arrested, and his servant, Dromio, didn't bring his bail. When he finally got fed up and went with the officer to collect the bail from his house, he found his wife with a quack doctor, who declared him possessed and left him tied up and sealed in a dark vault in his own home. He gnawed open his bonds with his own teeth, and escaped to see the Duke. It's been quite a day. All this would be reason to feel really bad for E. Antipholus, but Angelo points out that he actually did give E. Antipholus the necklace, and the man was seen wearing it. The Merchant asks whether E. Antipholus doesn't remember being challenged to a duel and running into the priory . Of course, E. Antipholus has no idea about any of this; S. Antipholus is still locked in the priory, and frankly this whole situation is getting a bit tiresome. The Duke squabbles around about the Courtesan's ring, and finally he decides everyone is mad, and someone should call the Abbess. Egeon finally speaks up, saying he thinks he's found men to pay his bond. He identifies Antipholus and Dromio correctly, but they have no idea who he is. He laments that he must appear much changed by grief, and then gives a beautiful speech about the passage of time. Though his face is grizzled and wrinkled, and he hasn't aged gracefully, he says his memory still glimmers--he recognizes in this man his son, Antipholus. Antipholus of Ephesus, seemingly unmoved, offers that he's never met his dad. Like, ever. Egeon is insistent, he says it's only been seven years since the men parted in Syracuse. He wonders if his son is ashamed to acknowledge him because of his miserable state. E. Antipholus insists he's never even been to Syracuse and the Duke also asserts that he's known E. Antipholus for twenty years, and the young man has never been to Syracuse in all that time. Egeon is about to be dismissed as a doddering old man when the Abbess enters. Actually, not only has the Abbess come, she's brought with her Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse. Finally, everyone is face to face with the two sets of identical twins. The Abbess reveals that she's Aemilia, Egeon's long lost wife. After the shipwreck, her boys were taken from her by some Corinthian fisherman, leaving her alone in Epidamium. She didn't know what happened to them from there, but it's been her lot to live as a nun ever since. The Duke dons his Captain Obvious hat and declares, "These sets of identical twins are long lost brothers. The Antipholuses are sons of Egeon and Aemilia, and the Dromios are the two servant boys!" The boys who were taken to Corinth by the fisherman explain that they eventually came to Ephesus with the warrior Duke Menaphon, who is the Duke's uncle. Moving briskly along, the pairs then clear up the calamity about who had dinner with Adriana, who got the necklace, who was sent for bail money, and who brought bail money. E. Antipholus tries to pay the Duke bail for his father, but the Duke demurs, and instead just grants Egeon his life. The Courtesan gets her ring back; Egeon gets his sons back; and Aemilia gets her husband back. Also, now that it's clear that he isn't Adriana's husband, S. Antipholus reiterates his offer to Luciana to be her husband and give her happiness. Finally, Aemilia ushers everyone into the abbey so they can talk over that bad, fateful day when they were separated, and the fateful day that's brought them together again.