pecial commission, or an exercise in art, it is perhaps another
instance of the price great men pay for being happy. It is certainly the
fruit of a happier mood than that which bore the other early plays. It
is also the first play that shows a fine, sustained power of dramatic
construction.

It is so well constructed (for the simple Elizabethan theatre and the
bustle of the Elizabethan speech) that any unspoiled mind is held by it,
when it is acted as Shakespeare meant it to be acted. The closeness and
firmness of the dramatic texture is the work of an acutely clear mind
driven at white heat and mercilessly judged at each step. Those who do
not understand the nature of dramatic art should read the ninety odd
verses in which AEgeon tells his story (in Act I, sc. i). They would do
well to consider the power of mind that has told so much in so few
words. They will find an instance of Shakespeare's happy use of stage
trick, in the final scene, where, after the general recognition, Dromio
of Syracuse again mistakes Antipholus of Ephesus for his master.

Rare poetical power is shown in the making of the play. Little beauty
adorns the action. The speech of Adriana (in Act II, sc. ii) against the
obsession of passion that leads to treachery in marriage, is passionate
and profound. It is the most deeply felt speech in the early plays.
Adriana's husband is frequenting another woman who, having the charm
that so often goes with worthlessness, has a power of attracting that is
sometimes refused to the noble. Adriana beseeches him not to break the
tie that binds them. Two souls that have been each other's are not to be
torn apart without death to one of them. With that sympathy for the
suffering mind which gives Shakespeare all his power--

("My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits")

he gives to her speech an unendurable reality. Reality, however
obtained, is the only cure for an obsession. As far as words can teach
in such a case Adriana's words teach the reality of her husband's sin.

"How dearly it would touch thee to the quick,
Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious,
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate!
Wouldst them not spit at me and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring...?
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: