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A Hall in the DUKE’S Palace. | |
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Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants. | |
| Æge. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, | |
| And by the doom of death end woes and all. | |
| Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more. | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| Both by the Syracusians and ourselves, | |
| T’ admit no traffic to our adverse towns: | |
| Nay, more, if any, born at Ephesus | |
| Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs; | |
| Again, if any Syracusian born | 20 |
| 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, valu’d at the highest rate, | 25 |
| Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; | |
| Therefore, by law thou art condemn’d to die. | |
| Æge. 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 | 30 |
| Why thou departedst from thy native home, | |
| And for what cause thou cam’st to Ephesus. | |
| Æge. 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 | 35 |
| Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, | |
| I’ll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. | |
| In Syracusa was I born, and wed | |
| Unto a woman, happy but for me, | |
| And by me too, had not our hap been bad. | 40 |
| 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: | 45 |
| 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. | 50 |
| 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 distinguish’d but by names. | |
| That very hour, and in the self-same inn, | 55 |
| A meaner 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, | 60 |
| 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 | 65 |
| 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; | 70 |
| 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, | 75 |
| 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, | 80 |
| Had fasten’d him unto a small spare mast, | |
| Such as seafaring 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, | 85 |
| Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix’d, | |
| Fasten’d 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, | 90 |
| 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: | 95 |
| 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. | |
| Æge. O! had the gods done so, I had not now | 100 |
| Worthily term’d them merciless to us! | |
| For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, | |
| We were encounter’d by a mighty rock; | |
| Which being violently borne upon, | |
| Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; | 105 |
| 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, | 110 |
| 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 soiz’d on us; | |
| And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, | 115 |
| Gave healthful welcome to their ship-wrack’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, | 120 |
| That by misfortune 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 hath befall’n of them and thee till now. | 125 |
| Æge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, | |
| At eighteen years became inquisitive | |
| After his brother; and importun’d me | |
| That his attendant—for his case was like, | |
| Reft of his brother, but retain’d his name— | 130 |
| Might bear him company in the quest of him; | |
| Whom whilst I labour’d 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, | 135 |
| 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, | 140 |
| Could all my travels warrant me they live. | |
| Duke. Hapless Ægeon, 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, | 145 |
| 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, | 150 |
| Yet will I favour thee in what I can: | |
| Therefore, merchant, I’ll limit thee this day | |
| To seek thy life by beneficial help. | |
| Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; | |
| Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, | 155 |
| And live; if no, then thou art doom’d to die. | |
| Gaoler, take him to thy custody. | |
| Gaol. I will, my lord. | |
| Æge. Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend, | |
| But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt. | 160 |
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