I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Pretty and witty, wild and yet, too, gentle.
There will we dine. This woman that I mean,
My wife—but, I protest, without desert—
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal;
To her will we to dinner. [To Angelo.] Get you home
And fetch the chain; by this, I know, ’tis made.
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine,
For there’s the house. That chain will I bestow—
Be it for nothing but to spite my wife—
Upon mine hostess there.
(3.1.158–68)

After he’s locked out of his own house and talked down from breaking in the door, Antipholus of Ephesus addresses these lines to Angelo the goldsmith. It’s clear that, though he’s no longer seething with rage, he retains a spiteful disposition. Notably, he doesn’t express frustration with his servants—it’s all reserved here for his wife. It is for this reason that he forges a plan to visit the very prostitute that his wife has previously “upbraided” him for visiting. But his spitefulness doesn’t stop there. Not only will he visit this other woman, but he will give her the gold chain that he’s commissioned Angelo to make for his wife. In redirecting this symbolic token of love, Antipholus shows himself as a man who holds a grudge.

Good Lord! You use this dalliance to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine.
I should have chid you for not bringing it,
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
(4.1.48–51)

Antipholus of Ephesus addresses these sharp words to Angelo, who has just confronted him about being paid for the gold chain he delivered to him. Of course, Angelo did deliver the chain, but to the wrong Antipholus. Thus, when Angelo begins to get short with his patron, Antipholus responds by rebuking the goldsmith for having failed to show up at the Porpentine guesthouse as they had previously agreed. Prior to this flare of anger, Antipholus had been in a friendly mood. But once again, he shows his capacity to shift rapidly from good to ill humor. Perhaps most cutting here is his use of the word “shrew” to insult his old friend. This derogatory word is typically used for bad-tempered or assertive woman. The insult is therefore subtly emasculating and implicitly likens Angelo to Antipholus’s assertive wife, Adriana, who is never directly called a shrew in the play, but whose character would no doubt have been seen as such by Shakespeare’s audiences.

Justice, most gracious duke. O, grant me justice,
Even for the service that long since I did thee
When I bestrid thee in the wars and took
Deep scars to save thy life. Even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.
. . .
Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there,
She whom thou gav’st to me to be my wife,
That hath abusèd and dishonored me
Even in the strength and height of injury.
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
(5.1.196–200, 203–208)

Act 4 depicts a comic mix-up that leads to Antipholus of Ephesus being accused of demonic possession, subjected to an exorcism, and carted off to prison to remain under guard. In the middle of act 5, Antipholus escapes from his captives and arrives at the priory, where his wife is engaged in an argument with the Abbess. Furious with Adriana for authorizing the charge of madness that led to his captivity, he appeals to the Duke. The first part of his appeal reminds the Duke of their longstanding relationship. Apparently, they fought side by side in past wars—a detail that affirms the various hints we’ve gotten throughout the play regarding Antipholus’s high standing in Ephesus. The second part of his appeal directly addresses his wife’s villainy—a plea that reminds the audience of the play’s larger concern with domestic authority and the proper hierarchy between men and women. Antipholus continues to feel aggrieved by his aggressive wife, and now, in a fit of extreme emotion, he seeks some form of justice for the wrong she’s done him. Though his frustration is understandable, the Ephesian Antipholus’s ill temper continues to mark him as far less appealing than his more good-humored twin.