The Comedy of Errors | Page 4

ship, then sinking-ripe, to us;:?My wife, more careful for the latter-born,?Had fast'ned him unto a small spare mast,?Such as sea-faring men provide for storms:?To him one of the other twins was bound,?Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.?The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,?Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,?Fast'ned ourselves at either end the mast,?And, floating straight, obedient to the stream,?Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.?At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,?Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;?And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,?The seas wax'd calm, and we discover'd?Two ships from far making amain to us,--?Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:?But ere they came--O, let me say no more!--?Gather the sequel by that went before.
DUKE.?Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so;?For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
AEGEON.?O, had the gods done so, I had not now?Worthily term'd them merciless to us!?For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,?We were encount'red by a mighty rock,?Which being violently borne upon,?Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst;?So that, in this unjust divorce of us,?Fortune had left to both of us alike?What to delight in, what to sorrow for.?Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened?With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,?Was carried with more speed before the wind;?And in our sight they three were taken up?By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.?At length another ship had seiz'd on us;?And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,?Gave healthful welcome to their ship-wreck'd guests;?And would have reft the fishers of their prey,?Had not their bark been very slow of sail,?And therefore homeward did they bend their course.--?Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;?That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,?To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
DUKE.?And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,?Do me the favour to dilate at full?What have befall'n of them and thee till now.
AEGEON.?My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,?At eighteen years became inquisitive?After his brother, and importun'd me?That his attendant,--so his case was like,?Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,--?Might bear him company in the quest of him:?Whom whilst I laboured of a love to see,?I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.?Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,?Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,?And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;?Hopeless to find, yet 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.
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,?My soul should sue as advocate for thee.?But though thou art adjudged to the death,?And passed sentence may not be recall'd?But to our honour's great disparagement,?Yet will I favour thee in what I can:?Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day?To seek thy help by beneficial help:?Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus:?Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,?And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die.--?Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
GAOLER.?I will, my lord.
AEGEON.?Hopeless and helpless doth Aegeon wend.?But to procrastinate his lifeless end.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE 2. A public place.
[Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, and a MERCHANT.]
MERCHANT.?Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,?Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.?This very day a Syracusian merchant?Is apprehended for arrival here;?And, not being able to buy out his life,?According to the statute of the town,?Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.--?There is your money that I had to keep.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.?Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,?And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.?Within this hour it will be dinner-time;?Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,?Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,?And then return and sleep within mine inn;?For with long travel I am stiff and weary.--?Get thee away.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.?Many a man would take you at your word,?And go indeed, having so good a mean.
[Exit DROMIO.]
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.?A trusty villain, sir, that very oft,?When I am dull with care and melancholy,?Lightens my humour with his merry jests.?What, will you walk with me about the town,?And then go to my inn and dine with me?
MERCHANT.?I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,?Of whom I hope to make much benefit:?I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock,?Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,?And afterward consort you till bed-time:?My present business calls me from you now.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.?Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,?And wander up and down to view the city.
MERCHANT.?Sir, I commend you to your own content.
[Exit MERCHANT.]
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.?He that commends me to mine own content?Commends me to the thing