READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, Scene i |
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Act I, Scene i:
A hall in the DUKE'S palace.
A hall in the DUKE'S palace.
| [Enter the DUKE, AEGEON, 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, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause |
| Why thou departedst 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 too, 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 he,—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 self-same 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, |
| 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.] |
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