Enter Solinus the Duke of Ephesus, with Egeon the
Merchant of Syracuse, Jailer, and other Attendants. EGEON
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 sealed his rigorous statutes with their bloods,
Excludes all pity from our threat’ning 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 Syracusian marts and fairs;
Again, if any Syracusian born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the Duke’s dispose, 20
Unless a thousand marks be levièd
To quit the penalty and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore by law thou art condemned to die. 25 EGEON
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 departedst from thy native home
And for what cause thou cam’st to Ephesus. 30 | Our comedy begins at the Ephesian marketplace, where Solinas, the Duke of Ephesus, is explaining why poor Egeon, a merchant of Syracuse, must die. (Yes, this is a comedy.) 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
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 offense,
I’ll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. 35
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
By prosperous voyages I often made 40
To Epidamium, 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
Before herself—almost at fainting under 45
The pleasing punishment that women bear—
Had made provision for her following me
And soon and safe arrivèd where I was.
There had she not been long but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons, 50
And, which was strange, the one so like the other
As could not be distinguished but by names.
That very hour, and in the selfsame inn,
A mean woman was deliverèd
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike. 55
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.
Unwilling, I agreed. Alas, too soon 60
We came aboard.
A league from Epidamium had we sailed
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm;
But longer did we not retain much hope, 65
For what obscurèd 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,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, 70
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourned for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forced me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was, for other means was none: 75
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 fastened him unto a small spare mast,
Such as seafaring men provide for storms. 80
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 fixed,
Fastened ourselves at either end the mast 85
And, floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispersed those vapors that offended us,
And by the benefit of his wished light 90
The seas waxed calm, and we discoverèd
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. 95 | Egeon declares his grief to be unspeakable, and then immediately begins to talk about it. He 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, joined him there. Egeon’s wife soon gave birth to identical twin boys. Coincidentally, a poor woman staying at the very same inn, during the very same hour, also gave 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 rolled in, threatening to kill everyone. 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 (one son and one servant kid for each parent). When the storm started to calm, the family saw two ships approach—one from Corinth, the other from Epidaurus. At this point, Egeon says he's too traumatized to continue. |
DUKE
Nay, forward, old man. Do not break off so,
For we may pity though not pardon thee. EGEON
O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily termed them merciless to us.
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, 100
We were encountered 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 105
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul, seeming as burdenèd
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 110
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 shipwracked guests,
And would have reft the fishers of their prey 115
Had not their bark been very slow of sail;
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
Thus have you heard me severed from my bliss,
That by misfortunes was my life prolonged
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. 120 | The Duke convinces Egeon to continue his story. They can't pardon him, but hey, this is a pretty good story, so at least they can pity him. 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 (with their respective pair of separated twins). Egeon's wife and the two babies at her end of the boat 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. |
DUKE
And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Do me the favor to dilate at full
What have befall’n of them and thee till now. EGEON
My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive 125
After his brother, and importuned me
That his attendant—so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retained his name—
Might bear him company in the quest of him,
Whom whilst I labored of a love to see, 130
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece,
Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus,
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought 135
Or that or any place that harbors 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 Egeon, whom the fates have marked 140
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. 145
But though thou art adjudgèd to the death,
And passèd sentence may not be recalled
But to our honor’s great disparagement,
Yet will I favor thee in what I can.
Therefore, merchant, I’ll limit thee this day 150
To seek thy life by beneficial help.
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live. If no, then thou art doomed to die.—
Jailer, take him to thy custody. 155 JAILER I will, my lord. EGEON
Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend,
But to procrastinate his lifeless end. They exit. | The Duke asks what happened to the babies that remained with Egeon. Egeon says that when his son and servant turned eighteen, they got itchy to find their long lost twin brothers, and left Egeon alone. He also says that both his son and the servant baby, torn from their brothers, kept their brothers' names. As a tribute? A consolation? We're not sure, but we think it was kind of messed up for Egeon to rename them after their missing counterparts. (Essential to the play, yes. But still messed up.) 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. 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. |