Adriana speaks with fierce rhetorical energy — she builds arguments in parallel structures, uses vivid imagery from nature and commerce, and turns complaining into something close to poetry. Watch for how she argues herself into anguish and how her longest speeches reveal real philosophical depth beneath the surface grievance.
Neither my husband nor the slave return’d
That in such haste I sent to seek his master?
Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock.
My husband didn't come home,
nor did the servant I sent to find him.
Luciana, it's already two o'clock.
My husband's not back. Neither is Dromio.
It's past two.
where is he
it's 2 o'clock
Luciana is the play's conservative voice, but she's no pushover — she argues from natural law and theology with genuine conviction. Her patience is genuine, not passive. Watch for how her measured advice turns out to be consistently wrong in practice.
Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner.
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret;
A man is master of his liberty;
Time is their master, and when they see time,
They’ll go or come. If so, be patient, sister.
Maybe some merchant invited him out to dinner.
Sister, don't worry. Let's eat.
Men have freedom to come and go as they please.
When they want to arrive, they'll arrive.
Maybe he got a dinner invitation.
Let's just eat. Don't stress about it.
Men do what they want. He'll be here when he gets here.
let's just eat
he'll come
Why should their liberty than ours be more?
But why should they have more freedom than we do?
Why does he get more freedom than I do?
why can he do whatever but i can't
Because their business still lies out o’ door.
Because their work keeps them in the world.
Because their business is outside.
their work is outside
Look when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
But when I take any freedom, he despises it.
But when I do the same, he hates me for it.
when i do it he hates me
O, know he is the bridle of your will.
A husband is the bridle that controls a wife's will.
He's supposed to control you. That's his role.
he controls you
There’s none but asses will be bridled so.
Only dumb animals accept being bridled like that.
Only animals accept being controlled.
only animals get bridled
Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe.
There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye
But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky.
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls
Are their males’ subjects, and at their controls.
Man, more divine, the masters of all these,
Lord of the wide world and wild wat’ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.
Wild freedom only brings suffering.
Everything under the sky has its limits—
beasts, fish, birds all obey their males.
Men, being divine and superior,
master the world and sea,
blessed with reason and soul,
and therefore rule their women.
Your will should follow his commands.
Unchecked freedom leads to pain.
Everything in nature has limits.
Animals obey their males.
Men are superior—it's natural law.
So wives should obey their husbands.
nature has limits
animals obey their males
men are superior
wives obey husbands
This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Is that why you've stayed unmarried?
So that's why you're still single.
that's why you're not married
The debate between Adriana and Luciana is usually staged as if Adriana is obviously right and Luciana is naively conventional. But Shakespeare is more honest than that. Luciana argues from the natural law tradition — a position held by intelligent, well-meaning people, not just tyrants. Her argument that all creatures have their proper bounds, that men are 'more divine' by virtue of reason and spiritual capacity — this is Thomas Aquinas, this is the Elizabethan catechism, this is mainstream Renaissance thought. The fact that it leads to terrible outcomes for Adriana doesn't mean Luciana is stupid; it means the system is. Shakespeare lets both women make their best case. And he gives the funnier lines to Adriana, which probably tells you something about his sympathies.
Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
No—it's marriage itself that keeps me unwed.
The troubles that come with it.
No, it's marriage that makes me stay single. The problems.
marriage is the problem
But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
But married, you'd have more power.
But if you were married, you'd have some authority.
married women have power
Ere I learn love, I’ll practise to obey.
I'll learn obedience before I ever learn love.
I'll master obedience before I know love.
obedience first
How if your husband start some other where?
But what if your husband were unfaithful?
But what if he cheated on you?
what if he cheated
Till he come home again, I would forbear.
I would wait patiently for his return.
I'd wait for him to come back.
i'd wait
Patience unmov’d! No marvel though she pause;
They can be meek that have no other cause.
A wretched soul bruis’d with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burd’ned 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 would relieve me:
But if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left.
You speak of patience from a place of safety.
We silence a wounded animal's cries,
but if we bore that same pain,
we'd cry just as loudly.
You offer me patience
while you've never known what I suffer.
Someday life will betray you like it has me,
and this easy patience will disappear.
Easy to be patient when nothing's hurt you.
We tell animals to be quiet,
but we'd cry too if we were in their pain.
You sit here with your wisdom
never having been betrayed like I have.
Wait till life breaks you. Then we'll see your patience.
easy to be patient
when nothing bad happened to you
wait till you hurt like i do
Well, I will marry one day, but to try.
Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.
One day I'll marry. But I'll test it first.
Look—here comes Dromio. Your husband must be right behind.
I'll marry eventually. But I'll try it first.
There's Dromio. Your husband should be next.
there's dromio
your husband's coming
Say, is your tardy master now at hand?
Is my husband finally here?
Where's my husband?
where is he
Nay, he’s at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.
Mistress, I've been running.
Your husband is strange—
he beat me and threw money in my face.
Did he say he met me?
Did he promise to come home?
I ran all the way. Your husband's crazy.
He beat me, threw money at me.
Did he say he'd come home?
he beat me
threw money
said he won't come
Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind?
Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind?
Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind?
Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind?
The speech beginning 'His company must do his minions grace' is one of the earliest fully-developed female complaints in Shakespeare, and it does something unusual: it attributes the cause of Adriana's diminishment to the marriage structure itself, not to a personal failure. 'What ruins are in me that can be found / By him not ruined?' — her decay is his doing. Her wit was sharp until unkindness blunted it. Her beauty will hold until he wastes it. She is perfectly coherent about the mechanism of her own destruction, and utterly powerless to stop it within the play's social framework. Shakespeare won't give this kind of speech to a villain. Adriana is a serious person, thinking hard about a serious problem — which makes her eventual reunion with her actual husband not entirely satisfying, and perhaps deliberately so.
Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Spake he so doubtfully thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Spake he so doubtfully thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Spake he so doubtfully thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Spake he so doubtfully thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows; and withal
so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them.
Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows; and withal
so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them.
Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows; and withal
so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them.
Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows; and withal
so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them.
But say, I prithee, is he coming home?
It seems he hath great care to please his wife.
But say, I prithee, is he coming home?
It seems he hath great care to please his wife.
But say, I prithee, is he coming home?
It seems he hath great care to please his wife.
But say, I prithee, is he coming home?
It seems he hath great care to please his wife.
Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Horn-mad, thou villain?
Horn-mad, thou villain?
Horn-mad, thou villain?
Horn-mad, thou villain?
I mean not cuckold-mad,
But sure he’s stark mad.
When I desir’d him to come home to dinner,
He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold.
“’Tis dinner time,” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Your meat doth burn” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Will you come home?” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?”
“The pig” quoth I “is burn’d”. “My gold,” quoth he.
“My mistress, sir,” quoth I. “Hang up thy mistress;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!”
I mean not cuckold-mad,
But sure he’s stark mad.
When I desir’d him to come home to dinner,
He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold.
“’Tis dinner time,” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Your meat doth burn” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Will you come home?” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?”
“The pig” quoth I “is burn’d”. “My gold,” quoth he.
“My mistress, sir,” quoth I. “Hang up thy mistress;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!”
I mean not cuckold-mad,
But sure he’s stark mad.
When I desir’d him to come home to dinner,
He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold.
“’Tis dinner time,” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Your meat doth burn” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Will you come home?” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.
“Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?”
“The pig” quoth I “is burn’d”. “My gold,” quoth he.
“My mistress, sir,” quoth I. “Hang up thy mistress;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!”
I mean not cuckold-mad,
But sure he’s stark mad.
When I desir’d him to come home to dinner,
Quoth who?
Quoth who?
Quoth who?
Quoth who?
Quoth my master.
“I know,” quoth he, “no house, no wife, no mistress.”
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
Quoth my master.
“I know,” quoth he, “no house, no wife, no mistress.”
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
Quoth my master.
“I know,” quoth he, “no house, no wife, no mistress.”
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
Quoth my master.
“I know,” quoth he, “no house, no wife, no mistress.”
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God’s sake, send some other messenger.
Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God’s sake, send some other messenger.
Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God’s sake, send some other messenger.
Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God’s sake, send some other messenger.
Dromio's football image — 'like a football you do spurn me thus / You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither' — is both funny and unsettling. In Elizabethan street football, the ball was kicked through the streets with no fixed rules, no set boundaries, and no protection for anyone in its path. Dromio compares himself to this object: owned, used, sent in whatever direction the powerful want. The leather case joke follows: if he's going to be treated as equipment, he should at least be properly protected. The Dromios are this play's most sympathetic characters in some ways, because they are the ones who feel the full physical consequences of everyone else's confusion while having no power to stop it.
Back slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Back slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Back slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Back slave, or I will break thy pate across.
And he will bless that cross with other beating.
Between you I shall have a holy head.
And he will bless that cross with other beating.
Between you I shall have a holy head.
And he will bless that cross with other beating.
Between you I shall have a holy head.
And he will bless that cross with other beating.
Between you I shall have a holy head.
Hence, prating peasant. Fetch thy master home.
Hence, prating peasant. Fetch thy master home.
Hence, prating peasant. Fetch thy master home.
Hence, prating peasant. Fetch thy master home.
Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither.
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither.
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither.
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither.
Fie, how impatience loureth in your face.
Fie, how impatience loureth in your face.
Fie, how impatience loureth in your face.
Fie, how impatience loureth in your face.
His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th’ alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state.
What ruins are in me that can be found
By him not ruin’d? Then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair;
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th’ alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state.
What ruins are in me that can be found
By him not ruin’d? Then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair;
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th’ alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state.
What ruins are in me that can be found
By him not ruin’d? Then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair;
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale
And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th’ alluring beauty took
Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence.
Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence.
Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence.
Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence.
Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere,
Or else what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis’d me a chain;
Would that alone, a love he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I see the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold; and no man that hath a name
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die.
Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere,
Or else what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis’d me a chain;
Would that alone, a love he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I see the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold; and no man that hath a name
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die.
Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere,
Or else what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis’d me a chain;
Would that alone, a love he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed.
I see the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold; and no man that hath a name
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die.
Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere,
Or else what lets it but he would be here?
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
The Reckoning
This scene does something the farce doesn't require but Shakespeare chooses to do anyway: give Adriana's jealousy a genuine foundation. The debate between the sisters is the play's most intellectually serious moment, and it's placed here, before any of the comedy has really started, so we understand what's at stake. Adriana is not simply a shrewish wife; she's a woman who has thought hard about the terms of her marriage and finds them unjust. Luciana defends the conventional order with genuine conviction, not sycophancy. By the time Dromio arrives with bad news, we feel the emotional stakes.
If this happened today…
Two sisters waiting for one's husband to come home from a work event that was supposed to end hours ago. One is furious and checking her phone every thirty seconds; the other keeps saying 'he's probably just networking, you can't track him like a dog.' They argue about whether it's possible to truly be equal in a marriage, whether jealousy is rational, whether love and control are the same thing. Then the husband's assistant shows up with a bruised face and a story that's clearly been garbled in the telling.