Shakespeare Comedy Of Errors Quotes

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.

We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.

O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.

If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.

Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.

Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping or waking, mad or well-advised? Known unto these, and to myself disguised? I'll say as they say, and persever so, And in this mist at all adventures go.

Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.

Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin.

Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word.

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me

How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

What is the course and drift of your compact?

The pleasing punishment that women bare....

Hopeless and helpless doth AEgeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end.

Why should their liberty than ours be more?

But here must end the story of my life, And happy were I in my timely death Could all my travels warrant me they live.

I, sir, am Dromio; command him away. I, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay.

A man may break a word with you, sir, and words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.

Return'd so soon! Rather approached too late: the capron burns, the pig falls from the spit, the clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; my mistress made it one upon my cheek: she is hot because the meat is cold; the meat is cold because you have no stomach, you have no stomach, having broke your fast; but we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, are pentent for your default today.

Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger.

Los hombres son dueños de su libertad. Sólo el tiempo es su señor y cuando les parece van o vienen.

Mi corazón ora por él, aunque mi lengua lo maldiga.

Every why hath a wherefore.

Why should men be more free than women?

In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. DROMIO OF EPHESUS They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither.

Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.

Podemos compadecerte mas no perdonarte.

La fortuna nos dejó, a cada uno por igual, de qué alegrarnos y de qué entristecernos.

Mientras encuentra pues a quien he extrañado tanto me arriesgo a perder a quien tanto amo.

En busca de ellos, infeliz, me pierdo yo mismo.

Mientras da su compañía a sus amantes yo desfallezco en esta casa por una mirada suya.

¡A cuántos tontos enamorados esclaviza la locura de los celos!

Dicen que un porqué tiene un para qué.

Si los dos somos uno, y me haces trampas, yo digiero el veneno de tu carne, haciéndome ramera por contagio.

El tiempo es insolvente y debe más de lo que tiene.

إن الشقاء قد يعتصر النفس البائسة، فإذا سمعناها تبكي ناشدناها أن تسكن، غير أننا،لو تحملنا ثقل ما تحمل من ألم لتشكينا مثلها أو زدنا عليها شكوى

إنني في هذه الدنيا كقطرة ماء تريد أن تبحث وسط المحيط عن قطرة أخرى، فلما سقطت فيه لتتعقب الرفيق، في خفية،وفي تلهف،،أضاعت نفسها..

I must get a sconce for my head, and ensconce it too, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. [II.ii.37]

I see a man here need not live by shifts, When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. [III.ii.187]

Thither I must, although against my will; for servants must their masters’ minds fulfill. [IV.i.113]

Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil. [IV.3.65]

O most unhappy strumpet! [IV.4.124]

A un alma infeliz, maltratada por la adversidad, le pedimos que se calme cuando oímos sus lamentos. Pero si padeciéramos un dolor como el suyo, nos lamentaríamos tanto o más que ella.

إني أرى الحلية مهما أتقنت صياغتها وأحسن طلاؤها يذهب رونقها.أما الذهب فيها فيبقى وإن تناوله الآخرون!غير أن كثرة التعرض تبلي الذهب،فإذا كان الرجل ذا سمعة طيبة فيجب ألا يسئ إلى سمعته بالخيانة والفساد.

¿Y qué se obtiene impidiendo el recreo sino tristeza y un tedio melancólico, parientes de la sombría y desolada desesperación, y a sus talones una gran tropa infecciosa de pálidas dolencias y enemigos de la vida?

The venom clamours of a jealous woman, Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. It seems his sleeps were hinder’d by thy railing: And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou say’st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings: Unquiet meals make ill digestions; Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; And what’s a fever but a fit of madness? Thou say’st his sports were hinder’d by thy brawls: Sweet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue But moody and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturb’d, would mad or man or beast: The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.

آه،لا تدفعيني بلحنك يا جنية البحر الجميلة، إلى أن أغرق في دموع ىأختك الفياضة. عروس البحر،ادعيني إليك أنت بغنائك أجن حبا؟ وانشري على الأمواج الفضية جدائلك الذهبية فأتخذها مرقدا أرقد عليها، وفي نشوة هذا الوهم الرائع،أحس أن قد فاز بالغنم من تيسرت له أسباب ميتة كهذه، ولتغرق الأمواج مرقدي بالحب إذا أثقلته الخيانة.

If desire were really one to one, self to self, there would never be a problem of infidelity, but desire will always, without confusion, demand a particular class, Caring for a unique object is an illusion, but the feeling must be unique, and though that feeling may not be natural, it is duty. You must love your neighbour like yourself, uniquely. From the personal point of view, sexual desire, because of its impersonal and unchanging character, is a comic contradiction. The relation between every pair of lovers is unique, but in bet they can only do what all mammals do. All the relation in friendship a relationship of spirit, can be unique. In sexual relationship love the only uniqueness can be fidelity.

Que tu lengua no pregone tu vergüenza. Sé dulce, habla cortésmente, ten gracia en la infidelidad; viste al vicio de mensajero de la virtud. Ten una presencia amable aunque tu corazón esté manchado: enseña el pecado comportándote como un santo. Sé infiel en secreto. ¿Qué falta le hace a ella enterarse? ¿Qué ladrón es tan ingenuo para jactarse de su infamia?

They can be meek that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burden’d with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain: So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me; But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left.

لا تجعل لسانك هو الذي يعلن خيانتك وعارك، تلطف في نظرتك وترفق في حديثك فهذا أليق بالخيانة، واكس الرذيلة ثيابا فبدو فيها كالفضيلة. تظاهر بالإخلاص وإن كان قلبك قد تلوث. وعلم الخطيئة كيف تسلك مسلك القديس المقدس، خن في السر:فما حاجتها لأن تعرف؟ فما من لص مهما يكن ساذجا يتفاخر بجريمته. وإنها لإساءة مضاعفة أن تخون زوجك ثم تجعلها تقرأ في عينيك وأنت تحدثها. فقد يكون للإثم،إذا أحكم تدبيره،سمعة زائفة تستره. والقولة الشريرة تضاعف من شر الأعمال الآثمة.

I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long 'ears. I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold heats me with beating; when I am warm he cools me with beating. I am wak' d with it when I sleep; rais'd with it when I sit; driven out of doors with it when I go from home; welcom'd home with it when I return; nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, when he hath lam'd me, I shall beg with it from door to door.

Because that I familiarly sometimes / Do use you for my fool and chat with you, / Your sauciness will jest upon my love / And make a common of my serious hours.

Shakespeare’s women are rebellious and clever, critical of women’s subordinate status, quick to point out the folly of men, and adept at outwitting patriarchal controls. “Why should their liberty than ours be more?” Adriana exclaims in The Comedy of Errors, bemoaning the limitations of her life. Instructed that “a wife’s will must be bridled by her husband’s,” she retorts, “There’s none but asses will be bridled so!” When Beatrice’s uncle suggests she find a husband in Much Ado About Nothing, she laughs and says, “Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, Uncle, I’ll none.” Shakespeare’s women follow their own consciences, refusing to be subdued into feminine silence, and they use language itself as a tool of liberation.

No, precious creature: I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by.

Tend to th’ master’s whistle.—Blow

The Comedy of Errors has been consistently under-appreciated, I’d argue, in part because we don’t know how to appreciate plot. Contemporary culture, the study and performance of Shakespeare, and our own intrinsic narcissism tend to encourage the view that character is destiny. Errors challenges this humanistic view of the world by emphasizing, in ways that anticipate the experience of modernity, the alienation of a mechanical universe. Think Charlie Chaplin on the accelerating assembly line in Modern Times (1936), and you have something of the comic terror captured in The Comedy of Errors.

Life is neither a midsummer nights dream nor tempest, its a comedy of errors to be lived as you like it.

In the rush to entertain masses of people repeatedly, the rules of presentation became exceedingly elastic. In classical drama plays were strictly either comedies or tragedies. Elizabethan playwrights refused to be bound by such rigidities and put comic scenes in the darkest tragedies—the porter answering a late knock in Macbeth, for instance. In so doing they invented comic relief. In classical drama only three performers were permitted to speak in a given scene, and no character was allowed to talk to himself or the audience—so there were no soliloquies and no asides. These are features without which Shakespeare could never have become Shakespeare. Above all, plays before Shakespeare’s day were traditionally governed by what were known as “the unities”—the three principles of dramatic presentation derived from Aristotle’s Poetics, which demanded that dramas should take place in one day, in one place, and have a single plot. Shakespeare was happy enough to observe this restriction when it suited him (as in The Comedy of Errors), but he could never have written Hamlet or Macbeth or any of his other greatest works if he had felt strictly bound by it.

I think thou art an ass.

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