Michael:

What a contrast to go from the late Shakespeare of Henry VIII to the early Sh. of Comedy of Errors, a much more straightforward language, lots of rhyme (though not in the first scene), and a rather open plot. The first act is so short that I wonder if I should go on into the second act as well, though I don’t want to trespass into your territory. The first scene is the necessary backstory, mainly Egeon’s “tragic” exposition of the loss of two halves of a pair of twins and the Duke of Ephesus’ jailing of the transgressing Syracusan. His story is shipwreck and separation might seem like the beginning of Pericles, especially in his long travels. And now he’s come finally to Ephesus. The Duke is moved and defers punishment in the hope Egeon may find someone to buy out his punishment. We won’t expect to hear more of him until the end. We can note the inconsistency in Egeon’s reference to the “youngest boy,” presumably Antipholus of Syracuse, who is with him, and his wife “more careful” for the “latter born,” Antipholus of Ephesus, whom he has lost. But it doesn’t make any real difference. Is it ever explained why the two Antipholi and the two Dromii have the same names? We understand that both are sets of identical twins.

At 1.2 the first confusion occurs, but only after the Syracusan Antipholus has sent the Syracusan Dromio to their inn with money. But it’s not explained why these Syracusans are able to do business with an Ephesian merchant in Ephesus without being arrested. The Ephesian Dromio then enters with a call for dinner for the Ephesian Antipholus, but instead accosting the Syracusan Antipholus, who takes the Ephesian D. for the Syracusan D. The Syracusan A., exasperated,  beats the Ephesian D, who remains baffled.

At 2.1 Adriana, the annoyed wife of the Ephesian A. complains to her maid, who replies like a liberated woman that the whole world is arranged for males. But Luciana, the maid, is not deterred from marriage, but says she’ll learn to put up with the system. But then the Ephesian D. enters to explain what he’s just encountered, thinking his master has gone mad. This seems to confirm the complaints of the women, and Adriana orders him back to his supposed master. So the confusion uncovers a bit of marital friction, or perhaps causes it as well.

But then the Syracusan A. encounters the correct D., who is of course surprised that he’s been taken for disobedient. And the Syracusan A. is annoyed with what he takes as the joke from D., so he beats him too. I guess we’re to take the beating of the servants as part of the fun. Then the two of them exchange lines in a comic dialogue that goes on until Adriana enters and entreats the wrong A. to come to dinner, but with much complaint about his treatment of her. When the Syracusan D. is mistaken for the Ephesian D. the confusion is total. Finally Syracusan A. agrees to go in with Adriana. And now she threatens to beat Syracusan D. if he lets anyone into the house.

Meanwhile, I may look up the Plautus example.

Dusty:

Yes, this early comedy could not be more different from the late history. At first I found myself thinking that Comedy of Errors is a somewhat trivial play, its comedy based purely on mistaken identity and on situations in which Antipholus/Syracuse gets mistaken for Antipholus/Ephesus, an Elizabethan version of situation comedy. But of course it’s an Elizabethan version of Roman comedy, and designed to be wholly artificial — in a good way. It’s in fact a sophisticated play. And there are elements in it that complicate the simple comedy.

In 1.1 I thought it odd that the Duke asks for Egeon’s life story after condemning him to death. Is he just taunting the condemned man? Or is he morbidly curious? And then the Duke is, as you say, apparently moved enough not to spare him but to postpone his execution for a day, and give him a chance to raise the fine. If this is comedy, it’s strange that it begins with a man being sentenced to death. (As you suggest, he will be spared in the end — but I don’t think we know that yet, or can imagine how it will happen.)

Egeon’s tale establishes how the twins got separated, shipwreck, etc. It’s all rather a tall tale, and Shakespeare piles it on by inventing a second set of identical twins. As you say, why should each pair get the same name? As for the inconsistency about names, my editor suggests that the older of the two Antipholi was thought lost, while the younger one survived, was given his brother’s name (even though he is maybe not dead), and is now “the “eldest care.” It’s all a bit strained, but  by the end of the scene we know the rules: two A’s and two D’s, separated at birth.

In 1.2 I wondered why Antipholus/S dares to come to Ephesus. Maybe the dispute between the two dukes was very recent, and A/S had not yet heard the news. Antipholus/S meets Dromio/E, and each mistakes the other. Master beats servant: how do you stage that? I suppose you make it a “comic” beating that does not inflict pain.

Dusty:

Act 2 is almost as short as Act 1. We don’t get a subplot, but we do get some thickening of the Antipholus/E plot: there has apparently been some tension between  husband and wife. She seems to resent  his “headstrong liberty,” and as Luciana — my text says she is not a maid but Adriana’s sister — hints maybe there was some trouble in “the marriage bed.” I don’t know why the two sisters should speak in  stichomythia and rhyme: the men did not speak that way. (Maybe the point is to distinguish them.)

2.2 Antipholus/S now meets Dromio/S and we get some obvious comedy based the meeting of A/S and D/E in 1.2. D/S acts the role of licensed fool, and master and servant engage in some plot-stopping witty banter. (I guess the Elizabethans enjoyed it.) To them enter Adriana and her sister. Adriana thinks this is A/E, so we are set up for more silly comedy. But instead Adriana gets a long speech of reproach, which seems to threaten the comic atmosphere. It’s almost as if Shakespeare is taking seriously the matter of male mistreatment of women, and thinking ahead already to Hero in Much Ado, and to Desdemona and Hermione. Here a woman is deceived by appearances. In each of those future cases a husband or betrothed is deceived by appearances into thinking the woman has played him false.

Michael:

I read a bit into Plautus’ Menaechmi (I’ll continue) to see what it offered Sh. I’m guessing the most significant thing may be the deepening of the women’s characters and perspectives, making up for what’s lacking in Plautus. The first brother there is a cad, quarreling unpleasantly with his wife, whose gown he has filched for his mistress, who seems to live next door. The mistress, Erotium, orders him to get it altered, and he’s entirely amenable. Three wasn’t an English translation yet of Plautus, but I think of that tradition (maybe it’s more than that) that Sh. was a schoolmaster for a time in late 1580s; did he read Menaechmi with his pupils and find a certain coldness in its character relations? The response, if that’s what this is, is what extends the human relations in the play.

Michael:

Act 3 too is fairly short. Yes, Luciana is Adriana’s sister, not maid, and it’s clear from this act where the plot will take her. The first scene features the Ephesians, who have been shut out of their house by the Syracusans, even though it was against the Syracusans’ will. A/E and Balthasar bat compliments back and forth over the invitation to dinner and D/E gives comic servant banter. But they can’t get into the Phoenix, and A/E says they’ll go to dinner at a woman’s house that his wife thinks is his mistress, but he protests she’s not. But he’ll give her the chain he had intended for his wife.

Luciana then upbraids the wrong A, A/S, for his treatment of her sister and urges better treatment. This seems to cause A/S to admire, and presumably to begin to fall in love with her, and he encourages her “teaching” of a husband’s duty. This puzzles Luciana of course. And D/S comes in with an account and description of Nell the globe-shaped kitchen maid. This occasions another of those comic dialogues with the servant Dromios; D/S says that Nell even knows of his birthmark, mole, and wart, which suggests that identical twinship goes even further than we imagine.  Oddly, because of his presumed interest in Luciana, A/S suggests finding a ship that will take them away immediately. But he thinks he’s been enchanted  and needs to escape. She has made him “almost . . .  traitor to myself.”

But then Angelo comes in with the chain, which puzzles A/S even further.

Dusty:

The comedy in Acts 3 and 4 seems to derive  wholly from situation, that is, from the recurrence of mistaken identity. (I don’t see any deepening of character here.) Maybe the fun for the audience is in the ingeniousness of the plotting, which keeps the two A’s and the two D’s from encountering each other, and finds ways to bring one master in contact with the other’s servant, and the “wrong” A and S together with Adriana, Luciana, et al. There is presumably also pleasure for an Elizabethan audience in the stichomythia and in the comic banter of the two D’s.

In 3.2 I presume that Luciana is beginning to be interested in A/S. It’s puzzling to me why she should advise A/S (thinking him to be A/E) to be “secret-false” (i.e., conceal his affairs) but “look sweet” upon his wife. This seems to betray her sister. Maybe it’s because she already fancies A/S herself. So her character is somewhat complicated, if not deepened. It would be interesting to see how a director and actress handle it.

Dusty:

In 4.1 A/E refuses to pay for a chain that he says he has not yet received (though A/S did receive it). D/S meets A/E to prepare him to sail to Epidamium. (I don’t know why he wants to sail away — it’s A/E rather than A/S who is sailing, right?) In 4.2 Luciana, now faithful to her sister, reports to Adriana about A, and when Adriana hears what he has been saying to Luciana she curses him. But then she and Luciana, apparently forgetting A’s offenses, agree to bail him out. Is this a case of matrimonial love overcoming resentment and jealousy? In 4.3 A/S is amazed to be known in Ephesus, and even more amazed to be given gold. In comes the courtesan, asking for the chain he promised her, in exchange for a ring. When he (not understanding what’s going on) refuses, she thinks him mad, and decides to tell his wife — and to get the ring back.

In 4.4 A/E is arrested. In come Adriana and the courtesan and a schoolmaster — why not a doctor? — and each testifies to what she thinks is the truth about A being shut out of his own house and refusing the pay. Why should Adriana continue to help A? A/E is then taken away by an officer for nonpayment of a debt. Enter A/S and D/S, and Adriana et al. conclude that they must have escaped from the officer.

In some ways this seems to be a trivial play — I’m sure it succeeds better on the stage than on the page — based wholly on mistaken identity. But in another way it lays out situations that Shakespeare returns to in his mature comedies and even his tragedies. This is a “comedy” of “errors” but in later plays “errors” can lead to tragedy.

Michael:

Reading the rest of Manaechmi doesn’t produce much more help with Comedy, just that Sh.’s characters are better and the intricacy added by the second set of twins makes for a more complicated plot machinery. The deepening of character I see rests mainly in the women. Adriana has complaints and sadness in regard to A/E that go beyond the confusion with A/S, and Luciana appears caught in schooling A/S, assuming him to be A/E, to be a better husband, or at least to cover his infidelity. Adriana grows genuinely angry with A/E, thinking A/S’s wooing of Luciana to be that of A/E, but then immediately catching herself and sending for the money to bail him (in 4.2). But she’s genuinely unhappy at what she imagines A/E has become. And it may be more than imagining since it’s not really clear that the gold chain wasn’t also promised to the courtesan. There seems enough work for the actresses to respond to what the text wants them to be.

I think it’s A/S who decides he must get out of Epidamnum, exasperated with all the confusion, but regretting losing Luciana. When he announces that he will get out of town immediately (at the end of 4.4, we realize what a disaster this would be with all the confusion it would leave behind. Isn’t there difference between A/S and A/E? A/S seems almost breezy through most of the confusion, annoyed but willing to take advantage of whatever comes up and not too concerned to look deeply. If someone wants to give him a dinner or a gold chain, he’s willing to take it. A/E by comparison seems a darker character, depressed, and maybe caught in a marriage that has gone sour. In response to his seeming madness, he’s going to be locked up and given the same treatment as Malvolio. Adriana says to the Abbess that A/E has been “heavy, sour, sad,” different from his usual self, but now downright mad.

The act 5 introduction of the Abbess is what finally sets the play decisively apart from Plautus. She seems both psychotherapist and marriage counselor, but of course her real identity is as Emilia, the lost wife of Egeon and mother of the two Antipholi. She refuses to allow Adriana to have A/S, which prompts the Duke’s intervention, and the unfinished business of Egeon’s threatened execution also will intervene. But the escape of A/E from Pinch allows the reconnecting of him with Adriana and his account of the missed dinner and the missing chain. But the fact that the other Antipholus, A/S, is supposed now in the abbey requires his bringing forth. Meanwhile the exposition from Egeon, the Duke, and the Abbess indicate more backstory, and the two Antipholi are at last brought together. And a mended marriage and an almost unspoken marriage of Luciana and A/S ensues.

Interestingly, it’s the Abbess who gets almost the last word. I think it was in Pericles where the discovered Abbess/Thaisa played almost a similar  role. Of course we also have brief comic exchange among the two sets of twins. It’s as if we get first the “romance” ending, then the “comedy” ending.

I find I like the play better than I anticipated or remembered. It’s not up to the mid-’90s though 1600 comedies, but it’s certainly stage-worthy and offers acting possibilities. I find it better than trivial and that the character elements have some genuine interest. Perhaps we differ in that.

Dusty:

A/S’s entrance in 5.1 soon leads to drawn swords, but this is comedy so no blood flows. Instead, he and D/S take refuge or sanctuary in the priory, and a new character, the “abbess,” enters to take temporary charge. (Shakespeare seems to have needed some help to untangle the plot and the misunderstandings caused by mistaken identity.) Adriana, apparently drawing conclusions from his “heavy, sour, sad” appearance in recent days, is still trying to protect her husband from harm. She concedes that his eye wanders, but seems ready to forgive him for it. It was thus quite  surprising to me that the Abbess blames Adriana for whatever marital tension there has been, and won’t let Adriana care for him now.

But the Abbess yields the floor to the Duke, who now reenters — we have not seen him since Act 1. With him comes Egeon, who has apparently spent the day trying to round up 1000  marks, and failed. Is it not odd that we have not seen him attempt to find the money? Since everybody’s path in Ephesus seems to have crossed with everybody else’s, it’s surprising  that nobody ran into Egeon. Adriana now appeals to the Duke against the Abbess. In comes A/E, and he too appeals to the Duke against his wife, complaining that she shut her doors on him and badmouthed him.

Egeon now recognizes A/E as his long-lost son, but says nothing. (Maybe he stands aside, and his words are an aside.) It’s only later that he comes forth, but A/E and D/E fail to recognize him. This is perhaps a masterful bit of plotting. You would think that the Abbess and/or the Duke are going to resolve everything — as indeed they eventually do — but Shakespeare, by introducing new complications, postpones the resolution.

The Abbess’s return should be a good coup de theatre: now  the characters, and the audience, see the two pairs of twins together for the first time. As in romance, the Abbess turns out to be the mother of the Antipholi — I am reminded of the reunion of mother and son in “The Barber of Seville” — and the husband of Egeon. And we are hastened toward a full resolution, perhaps not asking ourselves, when A/E offers to pay Egeon’s fine, why the Duke now refuses his ducats and has waived the fine. And not asking ourselves why the Duke doesn’t arrest A/S for the same violation (a Syracusan daring to show up in Ephesus). And maybe not even asking ourselves what it means when A/E returns the diamond to the courtesan: did he or did he not have sexual relations with that woman?

You’re right that there is a strong hint that A/S hopes now to marry Luciana. But she says nothing. Assuming that she is open to the idea, she would have to make that clear without words. You suggest that the A/E-Adriana marriage is “mended,” but if so why is there no verbal exchange between them, no mutual confession (I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked at other women; I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so hard on you) and no words of reconciliation? To bring across a mended marriage, a director, I suppose, would have to have them move together and embrace.

The closing lines are interesting. Yes, the Abbess gets the most lines, but the Duke gets to speak a line after her, and then the two pairs of twins get some jokey lines. As you say, a romance ending followed by a comic ending.