TITUS ANDRONICUS vs COMEDY OF ERRORS

My grandfather and I were talking, and I was saying some things about Titus Andronicus and Comedy of Errors. I'm sure you've had these thoughts too, but just in case you haven't, I'll tell you them, and if you have, I'll tell you them anyway.

I was saying that it really really (REALLY REALLY) bothers me that people who claim to love Shakespeare say that there is no way that he wrote Titus Andronicus, because it's so badly written. And yet the same people CONSTANTLY perform Comedy of Errors. HOW could this be?

Anyway, so my grandfather said that I should write an IN DEPTH and CONCENTRATED paper comparing the two plays, and proving to those fools that Titus Andronicus is a MUCH better play, in characters, speeches, and overall plot (I mean, HONESTLY. Who on EARTH is stupid enough to claim that Comedy of Errors has an understandable PLOT?)

So I plan to.

Just for starters, I'd like to post a couple of my favorite speeches from Titus Andronicus, and one of the better speeches from Comedy of Errors. See what YOU think. (And tell me, please! I'd like to know what y'all think.)

TAMORA (Titus Andronicus - this is my favorite purely for the words 'chequer'd shadow', which is SO much fun to say.)
My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad,
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chant melody on every bush,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground:
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise;
And, after conflict such as was supposed
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surprised
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds
Be unto us as is a nurse's song
Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.


TITUS (Titus Andronicus - This one makes me cry)
It was my deer; and he that wounded her
Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead:
For now I stand as one upon a rock
Environed with a wilderness of sea,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
Here stands my other son, a banished man,
And here my brother, weeping at my woes.
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me: what shall I do
Now I behold thy lively body so?
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears:
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
Thy husband he is dead: and for his death
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.
Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.



ANTIPHOLOS of SYRACUSE (Comedy of Errors - I thought this was a pretty good speech - although it took a Long Time to find)
Sweet mistress--what your name is else, I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,--
Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine.
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.
Against my soul's pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe
Far more, far more to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears:
Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote:
Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die:
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!


There you have it, what more needs to be said.