There was once a merchant of Syracuse called Ægeon, who had two baby sons, the one so like the other that it was impossible to tell them apart. At the time these children were born Ægeon was travelling, for his business often compelled him to make long journeys. It happened that on the same day, and in the self-same inn, a poor woman had also twin sons. The parents being extremely poor, and those being the days of slavery, Ægeon bought and brought up these children to attend on his own sons. When they were still quite young, Ægeon and his wife started to return home. On the voyage back a dreadful storm arose; the sailors saved themselves in a boat, but left the merchant, his wife, and the children on the doomed vessel. The wife, seeing the fate that threatened them, bound one of her children and one of the twin slaves to a small mast; the merchant was equally heedful of the other two boys, and the children being thus disposed of, the father and mother also bound themselves one to each mast.

Presently the storm abated; the sun again shone forth, and by his light the merchant saw two ships in the distance, making towards them, one of which seemed to be from Corinth, the other from Epidaurus. But before they could reach them, their own ship was driven violently against a huge rock and split in two. Parents and children were tossed into the sea; the mother and the two elder boys were picked up by the fishermen of Corinth, and at length the merchant and the other boys were rescued by the other ship. The latter would have pursued the fishermen and reft them of their prey, but that their ship was too slow of sail, so that they had to pursue their way homeward.

At eighteen years of age the youngest boy became inquisitive after his brother, and begged his father to let him go in quest of him, taking with him his attendant, who was in the like plight as himself. Ægeon, himself longing to behold once more the wife and son whom he had lost, at last gave a reluctant consent. So Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse departed on their voyage of discovery; but time passed, and they did not return. At last Ægeon determined to go himself in search of them. Five years he spent in furthest Greece, roaming through the bounds of Asia, till at last, coasting homeward, he came to Ephesus, hopeless of finding the lost boys, yet loath to leave unsought either that or any place which harboured men.

It happened at that time, owing to the enmity and discord between the towns of Ephesus and Syracuse, that it had been agreed in solemn synod by the citizens of both to admit no traffic with the adverse town. If any native of Ephesus were seen at Syracuse, or if any native of Syracuse came to the Bay of Ephesus, he was to die, and his goods were to be confiscated at the disposal of the Duke, unless he could levy a thousand marks to pay the penalty and ransom himself.

Ægeon, being a native of Syracuse, on arriving at Ephesus was arrested under this law, and brought before the Duke. His possessions not amounting to the value of even a hundred marks, he was condemned to die. The Duke of Ephesus, on hearing the pitiful tale which Ægeon related, would gladly, out of compassion, have released him, but it was not possible to recall the sentence of death which had been passed, unless the fine were paid. The Duke granted what favour lay in his power, and gave the merchant a day’s grace, bidding him seek all the friends he had in Ephesus, and try to beg or borrow the sum required in order to save his life.

Unknown to Ægeon, it happened that not only the son of whom he was in search, but also the other son whom he had lost years before, was at that time in Ephesus. The latter had been settled there for many years, and was married to a wife called Adriana. Both sons of the merchant were known by the same name—“Antipholus,” and both their slave attendants were called “Dromio.” The resemblance which had been so strong in the infancy of the two sets of twins still continued, and after the arrival in Ephesus of Antipholus and Dromio from Syracuse this resemblance was to lead to endless confusion.

The news that a merchant of Syracuse had been arrested soon spread through the city. Antipholus, who had just arrived after a long journey, was warned by a friendly merchant, who, paying him a large sum of money which he had in keeping for him, counselled Antipholus not to let it be known he came from Syracuse. Antipholus despatched his servant Dromio with the money back to the inn—the “Centaur”—where they were lodging, saying he would return there in an hour to dinner. In the meantime he intended to walk about and view the city, lamenting the while that he had not yet found the lost mother and brother of whom he was in search.

Much to the surprise of Antipholus, he presently saw a man approaching whom he took to be his servant Dromio. As a matter of fact, it was his servant’s twin brother, who, for his part, mistook Antipholus for his own master.

“What now? How chances it you are returned so soon?” demanded Antipholus of Syracuse.

“Returned so soon? Rather approached too late,” retorted Dromio of Ephesus. “The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, the clock hath struck twelve——” And he went on to say that his mistress was very angry because the dinner was getting cold, and his master had not returned.