INTRODUCTORY REMARKS HE fact is certain-Homer sometimes nods, and Shakspere now and then indulges in his "forty winks." Yet even in slumber the milder rays of intellect illumine their revelations; and we ought to wonder that such colossal faculties so seldom need a brief repose, rather than complain that they follow the universal law of immortality, and cannot be kept incessantly on the stretch. It is with this feeling-surely at the least excusable-that we approach the minor Shaksperian dramas; anxious to place their merits in the most favourable position, and somewhat pertinaciously inclined to explain away defects which no amount of grateful scepticism will prevent us from perceiving. If we are told, for instance, that the Dromios, in the play before us, are chargeable with sundry woful puns and coarse allusions, the apology spontaneously suggests itself,-"That is true; but then, consider the license of the age; their station in society; what a number of good things are mingled with the bad; how many of the bad may have been foisted into the genuine text; but above all (for it is difficult to think of Shakspere's characters other than as actual beings), consider what droll good-humoured mortals these Dromios are;-a condition of blood that prevents them from withholding even the poorest comical fancy that may tickle the hearer for the moment, however it may damage their reputation as wits, when put upon paper." In real life, amiable fellows of the brightest faculties will sometimes utter what they perfectly well know to be atrocious absurdities, critically considered, from the mere love of fun, and a generous disregard of what more prudent wags would deem their personal pretensions. Charles Lamb appears to have been a prodigal of this description; and Shakspere doubtless was another in his private capacity, as he was occasionally too much so (let us candidly admit it) in his public one of a dramatist. Thus much granted, it is by no means necessary to continue a notice of the present play in a tone of apology. If we cannot call it in the highest sense, what it calls itself, a "Comedy," it is certainly the nonpareil of farces; and although probably a very early production, much of the matter, both humorous and poetic, would not have been unworthy of the writer's brighter day. The opening dialogue between Egeon and the Duke, forms an admirable introduction to the subsequent scenes of systematic confusion; it places a clue in the hand of the reader that guides him joyously through the labyrinth of cross purposes that from first to last involves and baffles the active though unconscious agents in the turmoil. These perplexities tell excellently in representation. The varieties of voice, &c. that necessarily exist between the representatives of the respective twins, render the whole plot obvious to the spectator; while moderate resemblances of person, with the assistance of similar dresses, are sufficient to make him put faith in the general mystification; it not being painfully difficult to suppose that the victims of the spell may not be quite so quicksighted as ourselves. A nice observer will detect differences of temperament in the Dromios; and still more clearly in the superior Brothers. The female characters, also, though not of the strongest cast, are sweetly discriminated. And here we cannot but do justice to the respect that Shakspere invariably exhibits for the higher points of morality and social feeling: the Brother exhibits not the slightest sympathy with the blandishments which the Wife seems anxious to lavish upon him, on the supposition that he is her husband. It is this wholesome reverence for substantial decency which, in despite of his occasional indecorums, has effectively co-operated even with his boundless genius to keep Shakspere continually fresh and welcome in the hearts and eyes of his countrymen-and countrywomen. And it is the want of this same soul of purity which-notwithstanding their brilliant fancies, and the galvanising efforts of laborious commentators-has condemned so many of his contemporaries and successors to hopeless and deserved obscurity. The "COMEDY OF ERRORS" is doubtless founded on the "MENECHMI" of Plautus; it was first published in the original folio. Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Gaolers, Officers, and other Attendants. Ege. 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 Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives, Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their bloods, Excludes all pity from our threatening looks. For, since the mortal and intestine jars If any, born at Ephesus, be seen At any Syracusan marts and fairs; Again, If any Syracusan 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; are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun. Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable: And by me too, had not our hap been bad. Of such a burden, male twins, both alike: A league from Epidamnum had we sailed Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, My wife, more careful for the latter-born, Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off So: For we may pity, though not pardon thee. Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst, course. Thus have you heard me severed from my bliss; Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full What hath befallen of them and thee, till now. I hazarded the loss of whom I loved. Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece, Duke. Hapless Ægeon, whom the fates have marked To bear the extremity of dire mishap! Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. SCENE II-A public Place. [Exeunt. Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and a Merchant. Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidam num, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. And not being able to buy out his life, And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, 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? Mer. 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 bedtime; My present business calls me from you now. Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself, And wander up and down, to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [Exit. Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. Here comes the almanack of my true date.What now? How chance thou art returned so soon? Dro. E. Returned so soon! rather approached too late : The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit; Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, I pray; Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. E. O! sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last To Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine own custody? Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner: I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed; For she will score your fault upon my pate. Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger. |