Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare
would still see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to
hear her cry that all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her
little hand.
“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the
doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own
mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the
dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.”
One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and
said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered
Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of
air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death.
Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march.
Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he
had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said.
From the turret windows of Dunsinane Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed
appear to be marching. Every soldier of the English army held aloft a
bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, and like human trees
they climbed Dunsinane Hill.
Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and
the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single
combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when
Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back;
I have spilt too much of your blood already.”
“My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade
him yield.
“I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell.
Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a
King's head by the hair.
“Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old.
So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the
descendants of Banquo were kings.
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS
AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His
wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died,
and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the
Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had
been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were
exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the
same.
And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where
these children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born
to a much poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were
the parents of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the
other twins.
AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse,
and in treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed
homewards.
They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the
crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of
their passengers.
AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the
slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining
children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and
hoped for safety.
The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and
AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from
AEgeon and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by
some people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the
babies from her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very
miserable. Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia
Minor.
AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than
AEmilia, he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were
eighteen. His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he
called Dromio; and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the
children who floated away from him.
At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a
desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and
the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio
of Syracuse.
Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary to dwell in, and traveled
for five years. He did not, during his absence, learn all the news of
Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus.
As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was
arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of
Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky
enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had
angrily passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand
pounds any Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought
before Solinus, Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a
thousand pounds before the end of the day.
You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children
who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of
Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of
Duke Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and
Dromio of Ephesus.
Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of
Syracuse landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in
order to avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of
Syracuse, and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till
he came.
In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus,
his brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio.
“Why are you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked
Antipholus of Syracuse.
This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on
the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that
his mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he
asked Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without
delay. His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he
had not fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found
that his gold had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn.
He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him
with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and
Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and
she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio
of Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay,
you may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was
really her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet
unless I said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.”
“Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not
know you.”
“Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent
Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come;
I have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine
with me and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.”
They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of
disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where
a very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them.
They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio
demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!”
shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by
heart.
From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was
Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother.
Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and
finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his
wife that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to
another woman.
Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be
her sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone
with him, to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he
was not married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a
mermaid, he would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her
floating golden hair.
Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to
Adriana, who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be
seen or heard, though secretly she was very fond of him.
Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo
the goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which
he had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman.
The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated
his “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took
the chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He
offered payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again.
The consequence was that Angelo was without money when a creditor of the
sort that stands no nonsense, threatened him with arrest unless he paid
his debt immediately. This creditor had brought a police officer with
him, and Angelo was relieved to see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of
the house where he had been dining because he had been locked out of The
Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay when Antipholus denied receipt of
the chain. Angelo could have sent his mother to prison if she had said
that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus in charge.
At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus
that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing.
To the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He
would gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly
telling him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband
a purse of money which she would find in his desk.
Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had
been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from
getting the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master
immediately.
Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his
real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what
he meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further
surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he
had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of
Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table.
“Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she
received.
Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was
to have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger
when Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch
a purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the
slave in the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer;
and his temper did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived
under the impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He
raged so much that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of
Adriana spared him this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of
him, and asked the doctor to lead him to The Phoenix.
Angelo's merchant creditor being paid, the two were friendly again,
and might soon have been seen chatting before an abbey about the odd
behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” said the merchant at last,
“that's he, I think.”
It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio,
and he wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly
pounced upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the