The Comedy of Errors

by: William Shakespeare

Original Text

Modern Text

ADRIANA

Alas, I sent you money to redeem you
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.

ADRIANA

For goodness sake, I sent money to bail you out. I gave it to Dromio, who rushed in for it.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS

Money by me! heart and goodwill you might,
But surely, master, not a rag of money.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS

You gave money to me? She might have given me her best wishes, master, but she didn’t give me one scrap of money.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

80Went’st not thou to her for a purse of ducats?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

Didn’t you go to her for a purse full of ducats?

ADRIANA

He came to me, and I delivered it.

ADRIANA

He did, and I gave it to him.

LUCIANA

And I am witness with her that she did.

LUCIANA

And I saw her do it.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS

God and the rope-maker bear me witness
That I was sent for nothing but a rope.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS

I was sent for a rope! God and the rope maker are my witnesses!

PINCH

85Mistress, both man and master is possessed.
I know it by their pale and deadly looks.
They must be bound and laid in some dark room.

PINCH

Mistress, both the man and his master are possessed. I can tell by how pale and deathlike they look. We must tie them up and leave them in some dark room.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

(to ADRIANA) Say wherefore didst thou lock me forth today.
(to DROMIO OF EPHESUS) And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

(to ADRIANA) Tell me! Why did you lock me out today? (to DROMIO OF EPHESUS) And why are you denying that you received the gold?

ADRIANA

90I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth.

ADRIANA

My sweet husband, I did not lock you out.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS

And, gentle master, I received no gold.
But I confess, sir, that we were locked out.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS

And my sweet master, I received no gold. But I agree, sir, that we were locked out.

ADRIANA

Dissembling villain, thou speak’st false in both.

ADRIANA

You lying villain! Both those statements are false.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all,
95And art confederate with a damnèd pack
To make a loathsome abject scorn of me.
But with these nails I’ll pluck out these false eyes
That would behold in me this shameful sport.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

You lying slut, everything you say is false. You’re scheming with some damned gang, trying to make a fool of me. With my own bare hands, I’ll scratch out your eyes, which want to see me humiliated.