The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

>Or have a woman to your lord; You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather.

Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning, That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish.

 

SONG

Wedding is great Juno’s crown; O blessed bond of board and bed!

‘Tis Hymen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured.

Honour, high honour, and renown, To Hymen, god of every town!

 

DUKE SENIOR. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!

Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

PHEBE. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

 

Enter JAQUES de BOYS

 

JAQUES de BOYS. Let me have audience for a word or two.

I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.

Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address’d a mighty power; which were on foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here, and put him to the sword; And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, Where, meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world; His crown bequeathing to his banish’d brother, And all their lands restor’d to them again That were with him exil’d. This to be true I do engage my life.

DUKE SENIOR. Welcome, young man.

Thou offer’st fairly to thy brothers’ wedding: To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.

First, in this forest let us do those ends That here were well begun and well begot; And after, every of this happy number, That have endur’d shrewd days and nights with us, Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states.

Meantime, forget this new-fall’n dignity, And fall into our rustic revelry.

Play, music; and you brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap’d in joy, to th’ measures fall.

JAQUES. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court.

JAQUES DE BOYS. He hath.

JAQUES. To him will I. Out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn’d.

[To DUKE] You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it.

[To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit; [To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed; [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall’d.- So to your pleasures; I am for other than for dancing measures.

DUKE SENIOR. Stay, Jaques, stay.

JAQUES. To see no pastime I. What you would have I’ll stay to know at your abandon’d cave. Exit DUKE SENIOR. Proceed, proceed. We will begin these rites, As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights. [A dance] Exeunt EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE.

ROSALIND. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, ‘tis true that a good play needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnish’d like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My way is to conjure you; and I’ll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women-as I perceive by your simp’ring none of you hates them-that between you and the women the play may please.

If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleas’d me, complexions that lik’d me, and breaths that I defied not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell.

 

THE END

 

1593

 

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS

 

by William Shakespeare

 

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DRAMATIS PERSONAE

 

SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus

AEGEON, a merchant of Syracuse

 

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS twin brothers and sons to ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Aegion and Aemelia DROMIO OF EPHESUS twin brothers, and attendants on DROMIO OF SYRACUSE the two Antipholuses

 

BALTHAZAR, a merchant

ANGELO, a goldsmith

FIRST MERCHANT, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse SECOND MERCHANT, to whom Angelo is a debtor PINCH, a schoolmaster

 

AEMILIA, wife to AEgeon; an abbess at Ephesus ADRIANA, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus

LUCIANA, her sister

LUCE, servant to Adriana

 

A COURTEZAN

 

Gaoler, Officers, Attendants

 

SCENE:

Ephesus

 

<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS

PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE

WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE

DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS

PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED

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THE COMEDY OF ERRORS

 

ACT I. SCENE 1

 

A hall in the DUKE’S palace

 

Enter the DUKE OF EPHESUS, AEGEON, the Merchant of Syracuse, GAOLER, OFFICERS, and other ATTENDANTS

 

AEGEON. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, And by the doom of death end woes and all.

DUKE. Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more; I am not partial to infringe our laws.

The enmity and discord which of late

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 threat’ning looks.

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; 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,

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;

Therefore by law thou art condemn’d to die.

AEGEON. 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, And for what cause thou cam’st to Ephesus.

AEGEON. A heavier task could not have been impos’d Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable;

Yet, that the world may witness that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, I’ll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.

In Syracuse was I born, and wed

Unto a woman, happy but for me,

And by me, had not our hap been bad.

With her I liv’d in joy; our wealth increas’d 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, 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 A joyful mother of two goodly sons;

And, which was strange, the one so like the other As could not be disdnguish’d but by names.

That very hour, and in the selfsame inn, A mean woman was delivered

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; 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:

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 embrac’d, 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, Forc’d me to seek delays for them and me.

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 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, Was 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 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!

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 shipwreck’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