No, marry, shall he, sir, quoth I; I took my cloak, spread it all along, epicures, whose loose life hath made religion loathsome to your ears; and when they soothe you with terms of mastership, remember Robert Greene (whom they have often flattered) perishes for want of comfort. Re George. Thou clown, did'st thou set his horse upon member, gentlemen, your lives are like so many lightthy cloak? Jenkin. Ay, but mark how I served him. Madge and he were no sooner gone down into the ditch, But I plucked out my knife, cut four holes in my cloak, And made his horse stand on the bare ground. 'Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay' is Greene's best comedy. His friars are conjurors, and the piece concludes with one of their pupils being carried off to hell on the back of one of Friar Bacon's devils. Mr Collier thinks this was one of the latest instances of the devil being brought upon the stage in propria persona. The play was acted in 1591, but may have been produced a year or two earlier. In some hour of repentance, when death was nigh at haid, Greene wrote a tract called A Groat's Worth of Wit, Bought with a Million of Repentance, in which he deplores his fate more feelingly than Nash, and also gives ghostly advice to his acquaintances, that spend their wit in making plays.' Marlow he accuses of atheism: Lodge he designates young Juvenal,' and 'a sweet boy;' Peele he considers too good for the stage; and he glances thus at Shakspeare:- For there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger's heart wrapt in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes Fac-totum, is, in his own conceit, the only Shake-scene in a country.' The punning allusion to Shakspeare is palpable: the expressions, tiger's heart,' &c. are a parody on the line in Henry VI., part third O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide. The Winter's Tale is believed to be one of Shakspeare's late dramas, not written till long after Greene's death; consequently, if this be correct, the unhappy man could not allude to the plagiarism of the plot from his tale of Pandosto. Some forgotten play of Greene and his friends may have been alluded to; perhaps the old dramas on which Shakspeare constructed his Henry VI., for in one of these, the line, O tiger's heart,' &c., also occurs. These old plays, however, seem above the pitch of Greene in tragedy. The 'Groat's Worth of Wit' was published after Greene's death by a brother dramatist, Henry Chettle, who, in the preface to a subsequent work, apologised indirectly for the allusion to Shakspeare. I am as sorry,' he says, 'as if the original fault had been my fault, because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the quality he professes. Besides, divers of worship have reported his uprightness of dealing, which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that approves his art.' This is a valuable statement: full justice is done to Shakspeare's moral worth and civil deportment, and to his respectability as an actor and author. Chettle's apology or explanation was made in 1593. The conclusion of Greene's' Groat's Worth of Wit' contains more pathos than all his plays: it is a harrowing picture of genius debased by vice, and sorrowing in repentance :--- 'But now return I again to you three (Marlow, Lodge, and Peele), knowing my misery is to you no news and let me heartily intreat you to be warned by my harms. Delight not, as I have done, in irreligious oaths, despise drunkenness, fly lust, abhor those tapers that are with care delivered to all of you to maintain; these, with wind-puffed wrath, may be extinguished, with drunkenness put out, with negligence let fall. The fire of my light is now at the last snuff. My hand is tired, and I forced to leave where I would begin; desirous that you should live, though himself be dying.-ROBERT GREENE.' Content-A Sonnet. Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content: [Sephestia's Song to her Child, After escaping from Shipwreck.] Weep not my wanton, smile upon my knee; Weep not my wanton, smile upon my knee; The Shepherd and his Wife. It was near a thicky shade, That breast and bosom in did wrap, A whittle with a silver chape; Cloak was russet, and the cape Served for a bonnet oft, To shroud him from the wet aloft: Nor Menalcas, whom they call With drops of blood, to make the white In ambush for some wanton prize; Nor was Phillis, that fair may, She wore a chaplet on her head; [Philador, seeing this couple sitting thus lovingly, noted the concord of country amity, and began to conjecture with himself, what a sweet kind of life those men use, who were by their birth too low for dignity, and by their fortunes too simple for envy. well, he thought to fall in prattle with them, had not the shepherd taken his pipe in hand, and began to play, and his wife to sing out, this roundelay :-] Ah! what is love! It is a pretty thing, And sweeter too: For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, If country loves such sweet desires gain, And merrier too: For kings bethink them what the state require, If country loves such sweet desires gain, 1 Do. For kings have often fears when they sup, If country loves such sweet desires gain, For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill, If country loves such sweet desires gain, For kings have wars and broils to take in hand, If country loves such sweet desires gain, THOMAS LODGE. THOMAS LODGE was an actor in London in 1584. He had previously been a servitor of Trinity college, Oxford (1573), and had accompanied Captain Clarke in his voyage to the Canary Islands. He first studied law at Lincoln's Inn, but afterwards practised medicine. He took the degree of M.D. at Avignon. In 1590, he published a novel called Rosalind, Euphues' Golden Legacy, in which he recommends the fantastic style of Lyly. From part of this work (the story of Rosalind) Shakspeare constructed his As You Like It. If we suppose that Shakspeare wrote first sketches of the 'Winter's Tale' and As You Like It,' before 1592 (as he did of 'Romeo and Juliet,' Hamlet,' &c.), we may account for Greene's charge of plagiarism, by assuming that the words beautified with our feathers,' referred to the tales of Pandosto' and Rosalind.' In 1594, Lodge wrote a historical play, the Wounds of Civil War, Lively set forth in the True Tragedies of Marius and Sylla; this play is heavy and uninteresting, but Lodge had the good taste to follow Marlow's Tamburlaine, in the adoption of blank verse. ample For ex Ay, but the milder passions show the man; For, as the leaf doth beautify the tree, The pleasant flowers bedeck the painted spring, Even so in men of greatest reach and power, A mild and piteous thought augments renown. The play, A Looking- Glass for London and England, written by Lodge and Greene, is directed to the defence of the stage. It applies the scriptural story of Nineveh to the city of London, and amidst drunken buffoonery, and clownish mirth, contains some powerful satirical writing. Lodge also wrote a volume of satires and other poems, translated Josephus, and penned a serious prose defence of the drama. was living in 1600, as is proved by his obtaining that year a pass from the privy council, permitting himself and his friend, Henry Savell, gent.,' to travel into the archduke's country, taking with them two servants, for the purpose of recovering some debts due them there. The actor and dramatist had now merged in the prosperous and wealthy physician: Lodge had profited by Greene's example and warning. According to Wood, Lodge died of the plague in September 1625. He It is impossible to separate the labours of Greene and Lodge in their joint play, but the former was certainly the most dramatic in his talents. In Lodge's 'Rosalind,' there is a delightful spirit of romantic fancy and a love of nature that marks the true poet. We subjoin some of his minor pieces : [Beauty.] Like to the clear in highest sphere, Whether unfolded or in twines: Refining heaven by every wink; That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace. Her lips are like two budded roses, Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh; Within which bounds she balm encloses, Apt to entice a deity. Her neck like to a stately tower, Where Love himself imprison'd lies, To watch for glances, every hour, From her divine and sacred eyes. With orient pearl, with ruby red, With marble white, with sapphire blue, Her body everywhere is fed, Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view. Nature herself her shape admires, The gods are wounded in her sight; And Love forsakes his heavenly fires, And at her eyes his brand doth light. [Rosalind's Madrigal.] Love in my bosom, like a bee, Now with his wings he plays with me, Within mine eyes he makes his nest, Ah, wanton, will ye? And if I sleep, then percheth he And makes his pillow of my knee, Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; And bind you, when you long to play, I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in, I'll count your power not worth a pin ; If he gainsay me? What if I beat the wanton boy He will repay me with annoy, Then sit thou safely on my knee, Spare not, but play thee. [Love.] Turn I my looks unto the skies, He will be partner of my moan; CHRISTOPHER MARLOW. The greatest of Shakspeare's precursors in the drama was CHRISTOPHER MARLOW-a fiery imaginative spirit, who first imparted consistent character and energy to the stage, in connexion with a finely modulated and varied blank verse. Marlow is supposed to have been born about the year 1562, and is said to have been the son of a shoemaker at Canterbury. He had a learned education, and took the degree of M.A. at Bennet college, Cambridge, in 1587. Previous to this, he had written his tragedy of Tamburlaine the Great, which was successfully brought out on the stage, and long continued a favourite. Shakspeare makes ancient Pistol quote, in ridicule, part of this play Holla, ye pamper'd jades of Asia, &c. But, amidst the rant and fustian of Tamburlaine,' there are passages of great beauty and wild grandeur, and the versification justifies the compliment afterwards paid by Ben Jonson, in the words, 'Marlow's mighty line.' His high-sounding blank verse is one of his most characteristic features. Marlow now commenced the profession of an actor; but if we are to credit a contemporary ballad, he was soon incapacitated for the stage by breaking his leg in one lewd scene.' His second play, the Life and Death of Dr Faustus, exhibits a far wider range of dramatic power than his first tragedy. The hero studies necromancy, and makes a solemn disposal of his soul to Lucifer, on condition of having a familiar spirit at his command, and unlimited enjoyment for twentyfour years; during which period Faustus visits different countries, calls up spirits from the vasty deep,' and revels in luxury and splendour. At length the time expires, the bond becomes due, and a party of evil spirits enter, amidst thunder and lightning, to claim his forfeited life and person. Such a plot afforded scope for deep passion and variety of adventure, and Marlow has constructed from it a powerful though irregular play. Scenes and passages of terrific grandeur, and the most thrilling agony, are intermixed with low humour and preternatural machinery, often ludicrous and grotesque. The ambition of Faustus is a sensual, not a lofty ambition. A feeling of curiosity and wonder is excited by his necromancy and his strange compact with Lucifer; but we do not fairly sympathise with him till all his disguises are stripped off, and his meretricious splendour is succeeded by horror and despair. Then, when he stands on the brink of everlasting ruin, waiting for the fatal moment, imploring, yet distrusting repentance, a scene of enchaining interest, fervid passion, and overwhelming pathos, carries captive the sternest heart, and proclaims the full triumph of the tragic poet. FAUSTUS alone-The Clock strikes Eleven. Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, First Sch. Now, worthy Faustus, methinks your Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make looks are changed. Faust. Oh, gentlemen. Sec. Sch. What ails Faustus? Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still, but now must die eternally. Look, sirs, comes he not comes he not? First Sch. Oh, my dear Faustus, what imports this fear? Sec. Sch. Is all our pleasure turned to melancholy? Third Sch. He is not well with being over solitary. Sec. Sch. If it be so, we will have physicians, and Faustus shall be cured. First Sch. "Tis but a surfeit, sir; fear nothing. Faust. A surfeit of a deadly sin, that hath damn'd both body and soul. Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven, and remember mercy is infinite. Faust. But Faustus's offence can ne'er be pardoned. The serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Oh, gentlemen, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches. Though my heart pant and quiver to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, Oh, would I had ne'er seen Wirtemberg, never read book! and what wonders have I done, all Germany can witness, yea, all the world: for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world; yea, heaven itself, heaven the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy, and must remain in hell for ever. Hell, Oh hell, for ever. Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus being in hell for ever? Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, call on God. Faust. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured on God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! Oh, my God, I would weep, but the devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood instead of tears, yea, life and soul. Oh, he stays my tongue: I would lift up my hands, but see, they hold'em, they hold'em ! Scholars. Who, Faustus? Perpetual day or let this hour be but The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, And see a threat'ning arm, and angry brow. Oh, half the hour is past: 'twill all be past anon. All beasts are happy, for when they die, Faust. Why, Lucifer and Mephostophilis. Oh, gen- But mine must live still to be plagued in hell. tlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning. Scholars. Oh, God forbid. Faust. God forbid it indeed, but Faustus hath done it for the vain pleasure of four-and-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood; the date is expired: this is the time, and he will fetch me. First Sch. Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee? Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so ; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God; to fetch me body and soul if I once gave ear to divinity; and now it is too late. Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me. Sec. Sch. Oh, what may we do to save Faustus? Faust. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart. Third Sch. God will strengthen me, I will stay with Faustus. First Sch. Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let us into the next room and pray for him. Faust. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. Curst be the parents that engender'd me : The Clock strikes Twelve. It strikes, it strikes; now, body, turn to air, Thunder, and enter the Devils. Oh mercy, heaven, look not so fierce on me. * Enter Scholars. First Sch. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, Sec. Sch. O help us heavens! see here are Faustus' vengeance on his enemies, he is overmatched himself, he thus limbs All torn asunder by the hand of death. Third Sch. The devil whom Faustus serv'd hath torn him thus: For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought Sec. Sch. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be As every Christian heart laments to think on ; For wondrous knowledge in our German schools, Chorus. Cut is the branch that might have grown And burned is Apollo's laurel bough confesses his crimes, and closes his career :-] Then Barabas, breathe forth thy latest fate, Know, Governor, 'tis I that slew thy son; I fram'd the challenge that did make them meet. I would have brought confusion on you all, Die life, fly soul, tongue curse thy fill, and die. 'Edward the Second' is considered as superior to the two plays mentioned in connexion with it: it is a noble drama, with ably-drawn characters and splendid scenes. Another tragedy, Lust's Dominion, was That sometime grew within this learned man: published long after Marlow's death, with his name Faustus is gone! Regard his hellish fall, as author on the title page. Mr Collier has shown Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise that this play, as it was then printed, was a much Only to wonder at unlawful things: later production, and was probably written by DekWhose deepness doth entice such forward wits ker and others. It contains passages and characTo practise more than heavenly power permits. ters, however, which have the impress of Marlow's The classical taste of Marlow is evinced in the fine genius, and we think he must have written the oriapostrophe to Helen of Greece, whom the spirit Me-ginal outline. Great uncertainty hangs over many phostophilis conjures up between two Cupids,' to gratify the sensual gaze of Faustus: Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships O thou art fairer than the evening air, [Passages from the Jew of Malta.] [In one of the early scenes, Barabas the Jew is deprived of his wealth by the governor of Malta. While being comforted in his distress by two Jewish friends, he thus denounces his oppressors :-] The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of heaven, And henceforth wish for an eternal night, [But when his comforters are gone, he throws off the mask of of the old dramas, from the common practice of His lust was lawless as his life, He groan'd, and word spoke never moe, *First published in 1834 by Mr Collier, in his New Particulars regarding the Works of Shakspeare.' |