OP THE U N I VLRS ITY or ILLINOIS 822 , 3 ^ W5h 1897 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/contentiontruetrOOshak CONTENTION ASD TRUE TRAGEDY. THE CONTENTION AND RUE TRACED €biteb, |ntrol)uttiott, BY A. F. HOrKINSON. 3t0nb0tt: M, E. SIMS ^ Co., DELANVEY STBEET, CAMEEK TOWF, 1897 , ‘r4.- U/5-^ INTRODUCTION. March 12, 1593-4, the following entry was made on the books of the Stationers’ Company : “ Thomas Millington. Entered for his copy under the hands of the wardens, a book intituled. The First Part of the Contention of the tie o famous houses of York and Lnn- caster, with the death of the good Duke Humphrey, with the banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolk : and the tragic cal end of the proud Cardinal of Winchester, with the notable rebellion of Jack Cade, and the Duke of York’s first claim unto the crown. This is the entry of copyright of the first part of the play here reprinted ; of the secopd part, The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, there does not appear to have been any separate entrv. In 1602, Anril 19, there was an assignment, of both parts, from Thomas MilUpgton to Thomas Payier, “ Thomas Pavier, En, tered for his copies, by assignment from Thomas Mih lington, salvo jure cujuscunque, the First and Second part of Henry VI. ij books” The bookseller, Thomas Pavier, to whom the plays were assigned, at a later period ae! quired possession, by what means it is not necessary here to enquire, of several of the doubtful plays of Shake- speare. On Aug. 4, 1626, “ Master Pavier’s right in Shakespeare’s plays, or any of them,” was assigned by Mrs, Pavier (Pavier, I assume, having recently died) j \ 69659 a THt: CONTENT lO'N AND TEUE TBAGEDY. ii was assigned to E. Brewster, and Eobert Bird. There was a further transfer of copjadght of these two plays, called in the Stationers’ books Yorlc and Lancaster^ on Nov. 3, 1630, from Bird to J. Coates. The 1602 entry is rather singular ; there the two plays are called the First and Second part of Henry FJ., although there can be no doubt that the Contention and True Tragedy were meant. Was the mistake unintentional or wilful ? In 1623, when Blout and laggard were about to publish the first folio Shakespeare, they entered ‘‘Mr. William Shakespeare’s Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies, so many of the said copies as are not formerly entered to other men,” but 2 and 3 Henry VI. do not appear in the list, and 1 Henry VI. is entered as the third part. This appears to me a significant fact, but I shall reserve my remarks on it till I come to deal with the question of authorship of these two old plays. With regard to the non-entry of the True Tragedy, Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps thinks “ it is probable that there is a secret history at- tached to its publicaton which remains to be unravelled.” The First Part of the Contention was published in 15^4 with the following title-page :~The First Part of the Contention betwixt the two famous Houses of Yorlc and LancasitBr , with the death of the good Huhe Humphrey .* And the banishment and death of the Luke of Suffolke, and the Tragical end of the proud Cardinall of Winchester, with the notable rebellion of lacke Cade : And the Luke of Yorkes first claim vnto the Crowne. London — Printed by Thomas Creed for Thomas Millington, and are to be sold at his shop vnder Saint Peters Church in Cornwall. 1594. 4to. A second edition was issued in 1600, with slight verbal INTRODUCTION, ui differences of no importance, and printed by a different printer : — The First Fart of the Contention betwixt the tioo famous houses of Yorke and Lancaster, with the death of the good Duke Humphrey : And the banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolke, and the tragical end of the proud Cardinal of Winchester, loith the notable rebellion of lacke Cade : And the Duke of Yorkes first clayme to the crowne. London — Frink d by W. W. for Thomas Millington, and are to be sold at his shoppe under Saint Feters Church in Cornewall. 1600. 4to. A third impression also appeared in 1600, printed from the second, with trifling variations in the title- page. — The First Fart of the Contention betwixt the two famous houses of Yorke and Lancaster, with the death of the good Duke Humphrey : And the banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolke, and the Tragical end of the proud Car- dinall of Winchester, with the notable Rebellion of lacke Cade : And the Duke of Yorkes first clayme to the Crowne, London — Frinted by Valentine Simmes for Thomas Milling- ton, and are to be sold at his shop vnder S. Feters church in Cornwall, 1600. 4to. The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, or what might more properly be called the second part of the Contention, was published in 1595 : — The True Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, and the death of good King Henrie the Sixt, with the whole contention betweene the tico houses Lancaster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted by the Bight Honourable the Earle of Femhrooke his seruants, Frinted at London by F. S. for Thomas Millington, and are to be sold at his shoppe under Saint Feters Church in Corn- wall, 1595. 4to. A second edition appeared in 1600: — The True Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, and the death iv THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. of good King Henrie the Sixt : with the whole contention hetweene the two Houses Lancaster and Yorlce ; as it was sundry times acted by the Right Honourable the Earle of Tembrooke his seruants. Printed at London by W, W.for Thomas Millington, and are to be sold at his shoppe vnder Saint Peters Church in Cornwall. 1600. 4to. Malone mentions another edition of 1600, printed by Valentine Sims, but a copy of such an edition does not appear to exist, although it is very probable that such an edition was published to match the third issue of the First Part of the Contention. Some years later an edition of the two parts together, was published by Pavier : — The Whole Contention betioeene the two Famous Houses, Lancaster and Yorhe. With the Tragical ends of the good Duke Humphrey, Richard Duke of Yorke, and King Henrie the sixt. Diuided into two Parts : And newly corrected and enlarged. Written by William Shakespeare, Gent. Printed at London for T. P. T. P. was Thomas Pavier, who acquired the copyright of the two plays in 1602. There is no date affixed to this edition, but it has been settled on very plausible evidence that it must have been issued in 1619, and that date has been generally adopted by critics. In that edition there is no separate title-page to the second part ; it is simply called The Second Part. Containing the tragedie of Ric^ hard Duke of Yorke, and the good King Henrie the Sixt, It is important to note the difference between this title-page and the editions of 1594, 1595, and 1600, which contains the information that they were newly corrected and enlarged, and Written by William Shakespeare, Gent.” This is the first evidence we have of the ascription of the INTRODUCTION, V Contention and True Tragedy to Shakespeare ; what it is worth remains to be seen. As mentioned above, Pavier acquired the publishing rights of the two plays in 1602, and it is rather difficult to understand why he allowed so long a time to elapse— 17 years — before publishing them. It is also necessary to remember that Shake- speare had been dead three years in 1619, All these editions dilfer more or less materially from each other ; in some instances it is only a word, in others it is a line or a sentence, while in some cases the differ- ence is so great as to entirely alter the aspect of the passage, and suggest to one’s mind a new composition, not by the original author, but by some tenth rate poet- botcher who was striving to raise himself to the level of the original writer ; these differences, in many cases, are not such as would be likely to result from the emenda- tions of an editor revising a corrupt text, but rather tend to show that there was an imperfect contact between a second writer and what the author had originally written. There is another feature in these variations which the attentive reader cannot fail to notice, and that is, the later editions, especially that of 1619, make (with very few exceptions) a nearer approach to Shakespeare’s 2 and 3 Henry VI. as we have them in the Polio of 1623, The most important of these variations in the the text of early quartos will be found in the foot-notes to this reprint^ but it is necessary, in support of the argument hereafter to be advanced, that a few of them should be given. Here is an important difference in confirmation of what has been said above ; it occurs in the Contention, I 2, Q. 1594 ^ vi THE CONTENTION AND TEUE TEAGEDY. “ Hum. This night when I was laid in bed I dreamt That this my staff, mine office-badge in court, . Was broke in two, and on the ends were placed The heads of the cardinal of Winchester, And William de la Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.*’ Q. 1600 agrees with Q. 1594, hut Q. 1619 reads thus Hum^ This night when I was laid in bed I (freamt That this my staff, mine office^badge in court, Was broke in twain, by whom I cannot guess, But as I think by the cardinal. What it bodes, God knows ; and on the ends were placed The heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.*' The corresponding speech in F. reads : — Qlo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court. Was broke in twain : by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, ’twas by the cardinal ! And on the pieces of the broken w^nd, Were placed tfie heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.” In the same scene, p, 10, there is another material variation between the quartos and folio ; Q. 1594 reads j “ Elin. I’ll come after you, for I cannot go before, But ere it be long I’ll go before them all. Despite of them th£|,t seek to cross me thus.’* Q. 1619 reads: — “ Elin, I’ll come after you, for I cannot go before. As long as Gloster bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, and Protector as he is, I’d reach to the crown, or make some hop headless j And being but a woman. I’ll not be behind For playing of my part, in spite of all That seek to cross me thus.” F. reads : — Duch. Follow I must ; I cannot go before. While Gloster bears this base and humble mind, Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, IN TROD UCTION, iiv 1 would remove these tedious stumbling- blocks, And smooth my way upon their headless necks : And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in Fortune’s pageant.” Again, in ii. 1, Q. 1594 reads : — “ Hum. Faith, mj'^ lord, it is but a base mind, That can soar no higher than a falcon’s pitch.” Q. 1619 Hum. Faith, lord, ’tis but a base mind, That soars no higher than a bird can soar.” r. “ Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind. That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.” The account of York’s pedigree given in Contention, ii. 2, 1594, is at total variance with that given in Q 1619, while the latter makes a nearer approach to the Folio version. The extracts are too long to be given here, but will be found on p. 30 ; the text is that of 1594, the 1619 account is given in a foot-note ; both should be carefully compared with the Folio : the difference between the two versions is important to this discussion. Here is a line where Q. 1594 and F. agree, — “ Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell.” ii. 2. but a 1619 differs “ Give thee thy hire and send thee down to hell.” ' In ii. 4 of the Contention, p. 36, Bevis of Southampton is mentioned, but is not in the Folio. In i. 3, ed. 1619, the following line appears, which is not found in the earlier editions : — “ She bears a duke’s whole revenues on her back.” This line, with the exception of one word, is in F., — “ She bears a dukes revenues on her back.” yiii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE! TRAGEDY. Again, Q. 1619 supi^liee a line which is neither in the other quartos, or h., viz., “ For he is like him, every kind of way.” Here is an instance where the three editions, viz. 1594, 1619, and F. are at total variance ; in the Contention, iv. 2, Cade says : — ” My mother came of the Erases.” 1619 reads ^^I^acies,” F. “ Plantagenet.” Many in stances where a single w^ord differs in the various editions could be given; thus, — in the Contention, i. 4, 1594, <'lord,” 1619, ^‘master,” F. ‘‘lord”; ih. v. I, 1594, “agG,”F. “badge”. In the Contention, v. 2, 1594, Kichard says : “ So, lie thou there and breathe thy last.” U. 1619 reads: — “ So, lie thou there, and tumble in thy blood.” F. reads : — “ So, lie thou there—” A few similar instances may be adduced from the True Tragedy, of single words differing, or wrongly given, in the various editions; thus, — in i. 1, 1595, “hands,” is given as “swords,” in F. ; ib. 1595, “pull,” is “pluck,” in F. ; ih. 1595, “ iinkingly,” 1619, “unkindly,” F, “un- manly” ; ib. i. 2, 1595, “ sweet,” F. “ slight”; ih. i. 4 1595, “death,” 1600, 1619, and F. “deaf” In ii. 1, the following line is varied in the two later editions : — ” So fled his enemies our valiant father.” Q. 1619, reads : — ” So fled the enemies from our valiant father,” F. thus : — ” So fled his enemies my warlike father.” INTRODUCTION. IX Again, iii. 1, Q. 1595, reads : — “ No humble suitors sue to thee for right.” F. gives tjie Hue thus ^ No hupible suitors press to speak for right.” Again, iii. 1, 1595, reads:— “ My father came untimely to l^is death.” which agrees with F., but Q. 1619, reads: — “ My father came to an untimely death.” Here is another variation in the three editions ; in iv, 8, Q. 1595, reads: — And many giddy people follow him.l’ a 1619 ,— “ And many giddy headed people follow him.’! Again, V. 6, Q. 1595, reads : — “ The women wept, and the midwife cried.” Q. 1619,— “ The women weeping, and the midwife crying.’! F.,- “ The midwife wopdered, and the women cried.” In V. 6, Q. 1619 has the following line (immediately suc^ ceeding L 15, p. 186) which is neither in Q. 1595, or F., “ Under pretence of outward seeming ill.” Again, v. 7, Q. 1595, reads : — “ Henry and his son are gone, thou, Clarence next.” Q. 1619 reads “ King Henry and the prince his son are gone, And Clarence thou art next must follow them ; X THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. So by one and one dispatching all the rest. ’ F, reads : — “ King Henry, and the prince, his son, arc gone : Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest.” These examples do not hy any means exhaust the list, but thej^ are sufficient for the purpose, and I shall pro- bably have occasion to advert to them again in the course of this argument, and offer such explanation as will account for the variations in the. different texts of the two plays. The time of writing these two plays cannot be settled conclusively; in fixing their date, conjecture to some extent must be resorted to. I am unacquainted with any external evidence that would afford assistance in the solution of the difficulty, and the only internal evidence available is that of metre. An examination of this evi- dence shows, unmistakably, that they were composed at an early date, that is, before blank verse had attained that strength and smoothness which it afterwards reached in the works of Marlowe, and pre-eminently so in those of Shakespeare This is more noticeable in the Contention than in the True Tragedy, yet although the blank verse of the latter shows a distinct advance in .'energy and metrical fluency, I do not think any long interval could have passed between the composition of the two plays. Under these circumstances, the date of writing cannot be fixed earlier than the end of 1588, or later than the end of 1589 ; or to particularise the dates more definitelv, I should say the Contention was written towards the end of 1588, and the True Tragedy early in 1589. All the evidence that can be brought to bear upon the time-limit INTRODUCTION. xi of composition shows that these dates cannot he far out. The stage history of the plays presents much about the same difficulty of solution as does the date of com- position ; with one exception, nothing is known as to the time of production on the stage, the theatre where pre- sented, or the company who played them. The exception mentioned is the True Tragedy , which says on its title- page that it was acted by the Bight Honourable the Earl of Pembroke his seruants.” It is rather singular that the name of the company who played it should have been given on the title-page of the True Tragedy, and withheld from that of the Contention ; it becomes moi’e strange when it is remembered that both plays were published by the same bookseller who, in 1594 must have known the name of the company who played the Contention, just as well as of that who played the True Tragedy, The only explanation I can offer of the omis- sion is, that the company who acted the First Part had, in 1594, ceased to exist ; if that be so it is significant, and furnishes important evidence on several points in the history of the play. Or it may be that the omission was intended as a concealment of the fraudulent design of the publisher. However there is this certainty about the matter, that but a short period would elapse between the time of writing and production on the stage ; there- fore if my conjecture that the Contention was written towards the end of 1588 be sound, representation at the theatre would take place early in 1589, and certainly not later than March or April. ^In 1589 there were three established companies of players acting in London ; they ^ere^, — 1, the Children of Paul’s, 2, the Queen’s, 3, the xii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, Admiral’s ; there were two other companies then spring- ing into existence, (formed out of the debris of Oxford’s and Leicester’s, which had shortly before broken up) Pembroke’s and Lord Strange’s, but they were scarcely established as recognised companies, and are therefore outside the scope of the present discussion. One of these companies must have produced the Contention ; — which of them was it ? Here, as in many other points con- nected with this play, there is no direct evidence, and the question can only be answered conj ecturally. Such evidence as is obtainable points to the Queen’s men as the company who produced the plaj^ and to them I think it must be given. In 1592 the Queen’s company ceased to exist, and that circumstance taken in conjunction with the fact that no company’s name was given on the title- page of the 1594 quarto, goes to prove that the Contention was first produced by the Queen’s men. Of course there may have been revivals of the play between 1589 and 1592, but that does not concern my argument. The other two companies, the Paul’s boys and the Admiral’s men, still held together ; the former till 1607, the latter till 1603, but there is not a particle of evidence that they had anything to do with the Contention either in its first production or any subsequent revival. The playhouse occupied by the Queen’s men in 1589 was the Theatre, and there, beyond doubt, the first representation of the Contention was given. It may be as well to say here that after the dissolution of the Queen’s men in 1592, many of their plays came into the possession of the companies of Lord Strange and the Earl of Sussex. There is no such uncertainty about the True Tragedy, INTRODUCTION, xiii for the title-page of the first quarto says it was ‘^sundry times acted by the Earl of Pembroke’s seruants,” and there is no reason to doubt its truthfulness. The time of production on the stage would probably be the autumn of 1589 ; at that time Pembroke’s men occupied the Cur- tain theatre, therefore that would be the playplace where it was first performed. It is a singular circumstance that these two plays, or two parts of one play, which are coiitinious in their action, should haye been aoted by two different theatrical companies, and the fact appears to me to throw coasiderable light on their secret history. Apparently there was dissention in the commonwealth : had the company, or a particular member of it — Greene, for instance — quarrelled with tJie author, and was that the cause of Ins leaving the Queen’s mep aud joining Pembroke’s ? These plays were issued anonymously, and there is no contemporary testimony as to who was the author, or whether they y^eve a single or joint composition ; at that time it was frequently the custom, noble practice” Lamb called it, for two or more dramatists to join in the pro^ duction of a play, but whether such was the case here there is no actual evidence to guide one. From Malone to the present time, various attempts have been made to discover and distinguish the authorship ; as the result of these efforts the plays have been ascribed in larger or smaller portions to five dramatists, viz., Greene, Peele, Kyd, Lodge, and Marlowe. On the other hand, some critics have asserted, and very ably maintained their assertion, that they were the work of Shakespeare ; being, in fact, corrupt and imperfect copies, fraudulently XI V THE CONTENTION AnI) TREE TRAGEDY, obtained, of the first sketches of his 2 and 3 Henry FI. In examining the claims of these dramatists it will be as well to deal with them in the order as here set down. Commencing with Greene, I will first give the external evidence in favour of his claim. In 1592, a few months after Greene’s death, was published a pamphlet written by Greene called A Groatsworth of Wit houyht with a Mil- lion of Bepentance, This extraordinary death-bed com- position has contributed more towards making Greene famous than all his other writings put together. To this pamphlet is prefixed an Epistle, a part of which it is necessary to transcribe. It inscribed, To those gentle- men, his quondam acquaintance, that spend their wits in making playes, R. G. wisheth a better exercise, and wisdome to prevent his extremeties.” It commences with an exhortation to three dramatists to leave off writing plays; — 1, a ‘‘famous gracer of tragedians,” supposed to be Marlowe; 2, “Young Juvenal, that biting satyrist that lastlie with niee together writ a comedie,” supposed to be Lodge ; 3, “ and thou no less deserving than the other two, in some things rarer, in nothing inferiour,” supposed to be Peele. Then it con- tinues : — “Base minded men all three of you, if by my miserie ye be not warned ; for unto none of you, like me, sought these burres to cleaue ; these puppits, I mean, that speak from our mouths, those antics garnisht in our colours. Is it not strange that I, to whom they al haue beene beholding, is it not like that you, to whome they all haue been beholding, shall, were ye in that case that I am now, be both at once of them forsaken ? Yes, trust them not ; for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our INTRODUCTION. feathers, that with his tygers heart wrapt in a Flayers hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you ; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shakescene in a countrie. 0 that I might entreat your rare wits to be employed in more profitable courses, and let these apes imitate your past excellence, and never more acquaint them with your admired inuentions !’’ What plain matter of fact construction can be put upon these words ? There can be no doubt that they were written in a bitter and vindictive spirit ; — jealousy and spitefulness is in every word. It would seem that Greene had some grievance against a body of players, ‘‘those puppets, I mean, that speak from our mouths, those antics garnished in our colours,’’ and that three other dramatists, Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele, were also involved ; although according to Greene’s notions his own case was the worst, “ for unto none of you, like me, sought these burrs to cleave.” For several years prior to 1592 Greene, in his numerous pamphlets, had been delivering his attacks at the players singly or in a body, but it is scarcely necessary to pause here to enquire what particular company was meant, or what action on their part had caused the onslaught. Greene no doubt was incensed against the players, a rival company probably, but I think this skirmish was merely a ruse to lead up to and mask a virulent and malicious attack on one par^ ticular player dramatist, who had dared to compete and excel him in his particular and, as Greene thought, ex- clusive sphere — that of a play writer. Having done vith the players, who were all beholding to him and had xvi TKB CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. forsaken him, he braces himself up for the final attack upon his successful rival the player dramatist. This person, who had aroused Greene’s undying hatred, is ‘‘an upstart crow,” “an absolute Johannes factotum,” a “ Shakescene,” who imagines he can write blank verse as well as the best of poets who are old hands at the business. Here, for the first time in this petty, dis- creditable warfare, Greene spoke out openly, and to the point ; there can be no mistaking who the player drama- tist was : Greene’s finger points to him as unerringly as the needle points to the pole. The Shakescene is universally admitted to be Shakespeare. So it was “the gentle” Shakespeare who had consciously or unwittingly awakened Greene’s jealousy, and drawn from him this farra^go of lies, hatred, and ill-conceived virulence. The first clause of the above quotation, “ beautified with our feathers,” evidently alludes to Shakespeare [Shakescene] as an actor, and points conclusively to the fact that the “ upstart crow” had acted in plays written by Greene, and gained distinction in the characters he had assumed. Hence he was one of the puppets that, spoke the words he had written, and the praise and fame he gained therein, garnished him in the colours and beautified him with the feathers which Greene thought ought to belong to him as the author. One would have thought that Greene would have been proud to have acknowledged the honestly gotten fame acquired by an actor who suc- cessfully interpreted to the public the puppets he had called into existence ; but no, Greene’s disappointment and jealousy had so overwhelmed his sense of justice and manliness — if he ever possessed those qualities — that no INTRODUCTION. xvii word was too bitter, or lie too gross to utter against the man who had gained fame in a walk for which Greene was unfitted, and had eclipsed him as a dramatist. The expression, Tiger’s heart wrapt in a player’s hide,” is a parody on a line in the True Tragedy, i. 4, and 3 Henry VI. i. 4 Oh, tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide !” and was no doubt meant to be very spiteful ; but applied to the untigerlike Shakespeare, is about as ill-chosen as it could be ; it shows, however, that Greene was in a vindictive mood towards Shakespeare, also that little reliance is to be placed on his statements. The next clause of the sentence, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you,” clearly alludes to Shakespeare as a writer. Bombast meant, to puff out, to enlarge. The meaning of the sneer seems to be this ; — -Shakespeare, who was not a university man, £Greene was] had, with the usual rashness of ignorance, dared to amplify old plays and refit them for the stage ; nay, even to write original ones in blank verse, a pas- time which Greene thought should be indulged in only by scholars who held a university degree : the sin was unpardonable, therefore he was to be hooted down by any and every means, reputable or disreputable. The ‘^absolute Johannes factotum” means that he was a Jack of all trades — that is, he did anything, whether as an actor, a refurbisher of old plays, or a writer of new ones. There can be no doubt that Shakespeare in the early part of his career did work wherever it was wanted ; and that work, in all likelihood, embraced those three de- K partments of his art. Supposing he did, what of it ? xviii THE CONTENTION AND TETJE TRAGEDY. No TQan was better qualified to do it, and no man ever performed his task so conscientiously or so successfully as he. So much cannot be said of Greene. Such seems to me to be the fair intrepretation of Greene’s famous passage. Cithers have held an opposite view, therefore it is necessary that the reverse side of the picture should be scrutinised. The quotation given above has been advanced as external evidence that Greene, in conjunction with Marlowe, Lodge and Peele, had some share in wxuting these plays, and that the charge levelled at Shakespeare in A Groatsworth of Wit, was that he ap- propriated their work when writing 2 and 3 Henry VI. The following construction of the passage has been ad- vanced by Malone Shakespeare having therefore, probably not long before the year 1592, when Greene wrote his dying exhortation to his friend, new-modelled these two pieces (the two parts of the Contention), and produced on the stage what in the folio edition of his works are called the Second and Third Parts of King Henry VI., and having acquired considerable reputation by them, Greene could not conceal the mortification that he felt at his own fame, and that of his associate, both of tb^m old and admired playwrights, being eclipsed by an upstart writer (for so be calls our great poet) who had then first perhaps attracted the notice of the public by exhibiting two plays, formed upon old dramas written by them, considerably enlarged and improved. He there- fore in direct terms charges him with having acted like the crow in the fable, beautified himself ivith their feathers; in other words, with having acquired fame furtivis colori^ bus, by new-modelling a work originally produced by INTRODUCTION, xii them : and wishing to depreciate our author, he very naturally quotes a line from one of the pieces which Shakespeare had thus re-written , a proceeding which the authors of the original plays considered an invasion both of their literary property and character. This line with many others, Shakespeare adopted without any altera^ tion. The very term that Greene uses, — ^ to homhast out a blank verse, ’^exactly corresponds with w^hat has been now suggested, This new poet, says he, knows as well as any man how to amplify and swell out a blank versed^ On the same subject Dyce says, — It would seem by the expression ^beautified with our feathers’ that he [Shake= speare] had remodelled certain pieces, in the composition pf which Greene, Marlow^e, Lodge, and Peele had beep separately or jointly concerned : it would seem too that Greene more particularly alludes to the two old dramas entitled the First Fart of the Conieniion betwixt the tv:o fampus Jlo^ses of York and Lancaster, and the True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, on which Shakespeare founded the Second and Third Farts of King Henry VI ; for the words his tiger's heart wrapt in a player's hide," are a parody upon a line in the True Tragedy." Life of Shakespeare, vol. 1, p. 74, ed, 1886. I certainly must say that I do not see any conclusive evidence in the passage that Greene & Co. were the authors of these plays ; indeed, the presumption is in the reverse direction. Had Greene intended to charge Shakespeare with plagiarising his work or the work of his fellow dramatists Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele, he would not have left the passage in so uncertain a form ; in fact his known hostility to Shakespeare is sufficient XX THE CONTENTION AND TEUE TEAGEDY. guarantee, had the charge been true and capable of proof, that he would have made the attack in more direct and more forcible terms. The parody on the line in the True Tragedy is a further proof that Greene was not the author of it ; it would have been the height of weakness, con- sidering that the satire was aimed at Shakespeare, for Greene to have travestied a line of his own : by doing so he was extracting the venom from the shaft which was intended to pierce his adversary’s breast. On the other hand it is convincing evidence that Shakespeare was the author of the line and, by natural inference, of the play. It is necessary to warn the reader against placing too implicit reliance on Greene’s statements ; his whole life had been one course of deceit, profligacy, and dishonour; when his jealousy or animosity was aroused against any person he was thoroughly unscrupulous in his use of means to gratify his vindictive feelings, and sliowed aiji utter disregard for the truth — in fact he was a man not to be believed on his word. In the charge made against Shakespeare in the Groatsioorth of Wit , — although it was written on his death -bed — I do not believe there is a scintilla of truth ; it was a final eflPort of traduction — th^ parting flash of a long, bitter, undying hatred he had conceived against the man (his superior in every respect) whom he had determined never to recognise or acknow- ledge, The more Greene’s character is scrutinised the more repulsive it becomes. There is another piece of external evidence which has been advanced as proof that Greene was part author of these dramas, and in support of the charge he made in the Groatsworth of Wit, It is contained in a poem called INTRODUCTION, xxi GreenUs Funerals, by R. B., Gent. London^ 1594. 4to. Here are the lines : — “ Greene is the pleasing object of an eye : Greene pleased the eyes of all that looked upon him. Greene is the ground (»f every painter’s dye : Greene gave the ground to all that wrote upon him. Nay, more, the men that so eclipsed his fame, Purloined his plumes : can they deny the same ?” It is worth noting that Greene’s image, beautified with our feathers,” is repeated in the last line. Sup- posing the charge to be true, it would appear there were other sinners beside Shakespeare. Whoever R. B. may have been, it is clear he was of the same kidney as Greene ; the passage in the Address suggested his lines, and there, probably, his knowledge of the matter com- menced and ended. Because there are no other known plays, except the Contention and True Tragedy, on which the charge can be so conveniently fixed, is no proof that Shakespeare plagiarised the main body of these two pieces when writing 2 and 3 Henry VI., nor does that fact support Greene’s accusation. Greene was remark- ably sensitive about having his own thoughts stolen, yet he borrowed or purloined” the whole substance of his Quij) for an Upstart Courtier from a poem by Francis Thynne entitled the Dehate heiween Frlde and Loivliness; could he have foreseen the use the versatile Johannes factotum was to make of his Dorastus and Faunia, there can be no doubt but that our literature would have been enriched with sundry other amenities of the Groatsivorth of Wit order. There is a curious history attached to the publication of this last pamphlet of Greene’s, which is not altogether xxii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. impertinent to this discussion. Before it could be printed death had terminated Greene’s disreputable career ; but he had apparently left instructions that it should be published, and it was seen through the press by Henry Chettle, a dramatist of some repute. C>n its publication it made somewhat of a sensation, and gave great offence to Marlowe, Shakespeare, and others ; and Chettle, who seems to have been a respectable man, afterwards felt sorry that he had been the medium that circulated the the thing which caused offence to those men. In his next pamphlet. Kind- Hearths Dream, entered Dec. 8, 1592, he prefixed an Address to the Gentlemen Headers, wherein he explains his share in the transaction, and offers an apology for the offence he had unintentionally given. He says: — ‘‘I had only in the copy this share; it [i.e, the Groatsworth of Wit] was ill-written as sometimes Greene’s hand was none of the best ; licensed it must be, ere it could be printed, which could never be if it might not be read : To be brief, I writ it over, and, as near as I could, followed the copy, only in that letter [_i.e, the Address to the dramatists] I put something ont, but in the whole book not a word in.” This is a remarkable pas- sage, and has not received tlie attention it deserves. Chettle distinctly says he “put something out” of the Address prefixed to the Groatsworth of Wit. How are the words to be taken ? Did he mean that something was left out because it was too illegible to understand, or because it was scurrilous and personal to be printed ? I think the latter reason is the more probable. Then, what was it he left out ? It has been shown that in the Address Greene refers to Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele, and tNTRODUCTiON. Xxiii covertly to Shakespeare ; the first three he addresses in a spirit of sorrowful remonstrance — there is no spite or or venom in his words ; in Shakespeare’s case it is en- tirely different ; it seems as if Greene had concentrated all his energy for this final thrust at his great rival — - envy and bitter malevolence, combined with a charge which to an upright man would be insupportable, are in the words he applies to him. Then, I say, by fair inference, this ^‘something put out’’ referred to Shake- speare, and was of such a libellous nature that Chettle, through fear, or more probably from that innate upright- ness which seems to have been part of his character, thought fit to avail himself of an editor’s license and suppress it. Much as Chettle’s memory may be respected, posterity will not thank him for suppressing even an abusive fragment, which might otherwise have been added to our scant knowledge of Shakespeare’s early career. I for one wish it had not been destroyed. It would appear that Chettle was unacquainted, at the time, with two of the persons, Marlowe and Shakespeare, mentioned in Greene’s address. In his pamphlet, m.s. he says, — ‘‘With neither of them that take offence was I acquainted, and with one of them [? Marlowe] I care not if I never be. The other [? Shakespeare] whom at that time I did not spare so much as since I wush I had, for that, as I have moderated the heat of living writers, and might have used my own discretion (especially in such a case) the author being dead ; that I did not, I am as sorry as if the original fault had been my fault, be- cause myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the quality he professes ; besides divers of worship 3^xiv THE CONTENTION ANI) fllVE fEAGEDY. have reported his uprightness of dealing which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing that approves his arty This passage is remarkable, coming from so honest a man as Chettle appears to have been. He actually apologises to the ‘^upstart crow” for having innocently been the means of causing him annoyance. Would he have done so, had he believed Greene’s words and the vile charge contained in them to have been true ? There can be no doubt that Chettle — who since the publication of Greene’s lying pamphlet had probably become ac- quainted with Shakespeare — did not believe the charge to be true, and therefore made tlie only amend an hon- ourable man could do who had committed an innocent mistake. What a contrast there is between the candour of Chettle and the dishonesty of Greene ! Chettle’s words ‘Hhe other, whom at that time I did not spare so much as since I wish I had,” confirms the coiTectness of my sur- mise that the ‘'something put out” of the iVddress related to Shakespeare, and was grossly abusive. Another piece of external evidence thought by some critics to be favourable to Greene’s claim, is that the True Tragedy wms acted by the Earl of Pembroke’s men, The notion is founded on the want of a proper knowledge of the stage history of the time. It has been asserted in a haphazard sort of way, that “Greene wrote, Nash tells us, more than four other [i.e, plays] for Lord Pembroke’s company;” this statement I venture to contradict: it is a mistake. Nash said Greene was “chief agent of the company \i.e, the Queen’s] for he wrote more than four other.” The fact is, Greene wrote for no other company than the Queen’s except in one instance, that of George INTRODUCTIOlf, XXV a Greene, a play attributed to him, whicli was acted as tlie title-page says by the servants of the Earl of Sussex. There is an ill-authenticated tradition that he first sold his Orlando Furioso to the Queen’s men, and while they were travelling in the country, re-sold it to the Admiral’s men ; the circumstance is probable, and not unworthy of him, but that he ever wrote for Pembroke’s company, or that they ever acted one of his plays is certainly a mis- take ; there is not a particle of evidence to support the notion. This is the external evidence in favour of Greene’s claim to the authorship of the Contention and True Tragedy. The internal evidence has now to be considered. This evidence consists of style, thought, expression, imagery, characterisation, and versification. The reader who is moderately familiar with Greene’s plays cannot fail to notice the totally different style between these plays and Jiis work ; and fallacious as the test of style necessarily must be in enabling a critic to arrive at a definite con- clusion as to whether a piece was written by this or that particular author, I think there is sufficient evidence in this case to justify the assertion that Greene had no hand in their composition, Greene’s style, shortly put, consists of an epic rather than a dramatic form of composition ; there is a level mediocrity in his dialogue which runs on, like a stream through a flat country, without ebb or flow ; never rising to grandeur or sinking below a certain level. Monotony, rather than turbulence, is the general cha- racteristic of his blank verse. He has no profundity of thought ; his expression on the whole is graceful and felicitous, sometimes poetical^ but lacks originality, and xxvi THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, is of too uniform a nature. Emotional pathos, and the art of expressing the grandeur and power of the deeper passions of the human heart, were clearly beyond his reach. His imagery, for the most part, is tame and flat. His situtions are, at times, well conceived, but the initial conception is nqt sustained ; they fail for want of that dramatic coherency which is so necessary to the success of a play whether it be intended for the closet or the stage. Characterisation is, unquestionably, the most im- portant point in the composition of a drama, .but in this respect Greene is lamentably weak ; his characters, it is true, are correctly drawn, but they are stiff and formal, and wanting in animation ; in a word, there is too much of the lay figure about them. Greene’s versification is neither better or much worse than the versification of his contemporary poets ; its chief feature is carelessness ; weak and slipshod lines appear to be the rule, graceful- ness and ease in the flow of rhythm the exception. Met- rical fluency was not his forte ; neither was it, with one exception, of his contemporaries ; blank verse had not then acquired the ease and vigour which it afterwards attained in the hands of Shakespeare and a few other dramatists. With him an end-stopped line is the rule, a run-on line the exception ; Greene also indulged in a liberal use of rhyme. The small percentage of rhyme in the Contention and True Tragedy has been offered as a proof against Shakespeare’s authorship of the plays, but the same objection may be alleged against Greene; in his James IV, rhyme abounds, and in Alphonsus, King of Arragon, nearly every speech, of any considerable length, ends with a rhyming couplet. The above characteristics INTRODUCTION. xxvii are at absolute variance with those of these two plays ; let the reader make a comparison and found his opinion on the result. Coming to more particular forms of style, grammatical structure, thought, and expression, several particulars have been pointed out as characteristic of Greene’s method of work. The first of these is the frequent use he makes of the expression for to”. Some twenty-five years ago Mr. Grant White was the first to draw atten- tion to this trade mark of Greene’s. Working indepen- dently in the same direction I made a similar discovery, and pointed it out, as being eminently characteristic of Greene, in my introduction to a reprint of Lord Cromivell. I am not familiar with any dramatist who habitually in- dulges in this peculiarity to such an extent as Greene does. In his six plays “ for to” occurs ninety-two times (in one play, AlpJionsuSy King of Arragon, it is found fifty-eight times), being an average of sixteen times to each play. Greene, however, is not isolated in the use of the phrase, for other authors use it although not to anything like the extent he does. It is used by Lodge, Peele, Kyd, Marlowe, and occasionally by Shakespeare ; it is also found in the Taming of a ShreWy King Lier, the old King John, Arden of Feversham, Locrine, Lord Cromioell, London Prodigal, Fair Em, and Mucedorus. It will be seen from the authors and plays quoted that the expres- sion is principally confined to dramas written prior to 1595 (although it continued to be used occasionally for some years after that date), and that may account for it being so seldom found in Shakespeare. ‘‘For to” occurs five times in the Contention, viz., i, 1, 3, 4 {his), ii. 2, and xxviii THE CONTENTION ANi) TRUE TRAOEDY. four times in the True Tragedy ^ viz., ii. 4, iii. 1, iv. 6, V. 4 ; on the strength of its occurence it has been assumed that Greene was part author of these plaj^s. To me the assumption is not conclusive, and seems too rigid an application of the test in face of the evidence given of the use of the expression by Greene’s contemporaries ; had the phrase been frequent, the conclusion would have been pertinent and worthy of consideration, but wheti it is found only nine times in about four thousand lines it is surely overstraining the point, especially with the fact before us that Greene used it nine times in fifteen hun- dred lines. On the same line of argument some of the ^^for to’s” might be Kyd’s, Peele’s, Lodge’s, Marlowe’s, or even Shakespeare’s, and so allot portions of the plays to each of those dramatists. The expression is certainly characteristic of Greene, but the test is only of value in discovering his work when the expression is of very fre- quent occurrence, then I hold it to be supreme : applied to these plays the test is worthless. There is a grammatical peculiarity or inaccuracy about the Contention and True 'Tragedy which cannot fail to strike those who read them in the original or a verbatim reprint ; I allude to the frequent occurence of a plural noun coupled to a singular verb, thus : — “ Bewfords flerie eyes showes his eiiuious minde.” Con. in. 1. “ His currish riddles sorts not with this place.” True. Trag, v. 5. further, it is to be noted that this peculiar construction is more frequent in the Contention than the True Tragedy. The same thing is habitually done by Greene, also oc- casionally by Marlowe, and the circumstance has been adduced as a proof that Greene was concerned in writing INTRODUCTION, xxix these dramas. The argument is not of much weight, for it seems to have been the custom among sixteenth cen- tury dramatists, and therefore could hardly have been considered an inaccuracy. Shakespeare, as Dyce has pointed out, often uses a plural noun and a singular verb, and other dramatists do the same thing ; this shows that Greene was not singular in the use of this peculiar con- struction, also that nothing definite can be drawn from the fact that it occurs in these plays and his or any other dramatist. The habit was general rather than individual. Greene seems to have been remarkably fond of using the word countervailed ; Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps says it occurs twenty time's in Greene’s Card of FanciSj 1584, and I have found it in his Friar Bacon. That is con- sidered another proof of Greene’s partnership in the Contention and True Tragedy ; the conclusion is rather unfortunate, for in point of fact it proves nothing except that Greene used the word, as did other writers. It is used twice by Shakespeare, and I have found it in Nash, Kyd, and Marlowe, and I dare say a further search would reveal it in other writers. Among the general resemblances between these plays and Greene’s relied on by the advocates of a part author- ship by Greene, the following may be mentioned. In the Contention, iv. 1, occurs the following lines : — “ This villain here, being but captain of a pinnace, Threatens more plagues than mighty Abradas, The great Macedonian pirate." In 2 Henry VI. iv. 1, the passage stands thus : — “ This villain here, Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate," XXX THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. Why Abradas of the Coatevdion was changed to Bar- gnlus in 2 Henry VI. it is not necessary here to enquire ; but it seems, except in the line in the Contention^ the name occurs only once in our literature, i.e. in Greene’s pamphlet called Penelope*s Weh, 1587, The allusion runs thus Abradas, the great Macedonian pirat, thought every one had a letter of mart that bare sayles in the ocean,” On the strength of this verbal similarity it is thought that Greene must have written the scene which contains the passage. The eoincideixce is singular rather than conclusive. In the True Tragedy y iv. 2, Clarence and Warwick lay a plot to surprise and kidnap King Edward ; in the old editions there is no division or change of scene and the reader is left to suppose that the one scene takes in the encampments of the two parties, and that the assail- ing party simply cross the stage from their own camp to the tent of King Edward. Of course this requires a strong effort of imagination on the reader’s part, and has the appearance of bad constructive skill on the part of the author. In Greene’s play George a Greene p. 262-5, ed. Dyce, a similar demand is made on the imagination, therefore on account of this similarity of method it is concluded that Greene must have wn-itten the scene. I do not view the matter in that light. The fact is, these plays have come down to us in such a botched and muti- lated condition that it is well nigh impossible to form a definite conclusion on the point, I refuse to believe that the scene as printed in Q, 1594, stood so in thp author’s MS., indeed I feel sure that the proper division of scene therein was marked by ^'Exeunt” after ^'God and Saint introduction. xxxi George,” and the new scene commenced with Enter AVarwick, Clarence,” etc. j in fact the context seems to intimate such a change : — “ And now what rests but in night’s coverture. Thy brother being carelessly encamped, (His soldiers lurking in the town about) And but attended by a simple guard. We may surprise and take him at our pleasure j Our scouts have found the adventure very easy.” In the Folio play the division of scene is marked, and a» dialogue of some twenty lines, between the watchmen guarding King Edward^s tent, is interposed, thus re-, moving the strain on the reader’s imagination, and giving the scene a finished and workmanlike rotundity. Nevertheless the fact remains that it is not so in the old play. Whether the omission was due to the author, o^ to the carelessness of the scribe who surreptitiously pro- cured the copy, or whether it is the result of a later revision by the author, it is impossible to say. If it was due to the author, it shows that the play belongs to an early period of dramatic art — certainly not later than 1589 — and that the author was a young and inexperh enced writer; however, I see no insuperable objection to the theory of a later revision, although I incline to the belief that the omission is chargeable to the blundering of the botcher, The odd feature about this charge of bad workmanship — the non^marking of the change of scene, etc. — is, that the scene is attributed to Marlowe, and an instance of a similar kind adduced from a work by Greene. After the test of style, that of characterisation furnishes the most conclusive proof that Greene had no hand in the xxxii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, composition of these plays. Leaving out of consideration the most important and striking characters such as King Henry VI., Richard, York, Beaufort, Warwick, Suffolk, the two Cliffords, Duke Humphrey, Margaret, and the Duchess of Gloster, wliich are as much beyond Greene’s power of conception, as are the better scenes of the pla3"s above his range of writing, was he sufficient master of portraiture to draw the characters of King Edward lY., Prince Edward, Clarence, Salisbur}^ Lady Grey, Iden, Jack Cade, or even Sander, and endow them with the lifelike personality they present in these dramas? On the whole, the characterisation in Greene’s pla^^s is weak, in the Contention and True Tragedy it is the reverse, even in such obscure characters as those composing Cade’s rab» blement, or the Armourer and his man Peter, Greene has left nothing comparable to these, and I do not know of a single character in his plays which could be bracketed with any one in the Contention or Tvue Tragedy^ Jf g crowning proof, that Greene had no shai^e in these plays, were wanted, it could be found read}^ to hand in the characterisation, which is as much above his range as Mont Blanc is above Snowden, Greene’s share in these plays is thus apportioned by Miss Lee (New Shak. Soc. Transactions, 1875, Part ii. pp. 304-^6) who in the main insists on a Greene-Marlowe authorship: — Conteyitioyi, — i, 1 part, 2, 3 part, 4 ; ii. 1, 2 part, 3, 4; iii, 1 part, 2 part ; iv. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 j V. 1, 2 part (18 lines). True Tragedy, — i. 2 part, 3 part, 4 part ; ii. 2 part, 4 part, 5 : iii. 1, 2 part, 3 ; iv. 1,4, 5, 6, 7 part, 8 (doubtful) ; v. 1, 3, 4 part, 7, Por a more mmute division, where the authors are INTRODUCTION. xxxiii working together on one scene I refer the reader to Miss Lee’s interesting essay. To go through these scenes singly for the purpose of destroying Greene’s claim to having written them, I hold to be an unthankful although not an impossible labour. So far as the general style is concerned there is so much that is colourless in them, that they might be attributed with as much plausibility to any one of half a dozen dramatists I could mention. As instances in support of this assertion I would point to i. 3, and the first portion of ii. 1, of the Contention ; these scenes, which are poor enough, have nothing distinctively characteristic of Greene’s style, and with equal proba- bility might have been written by his contemporary, H. Wilson. The same may be said of iv. 4, and several other scenes in the True Tragedy. C)n the other hand, it is well nigh impossible that Greene could have written the Cade scenes with their forcible characterisation, and vivid realism, or the terse description of Cade in v. 1 ; neither was he equal to writing the scene wherein King Edward wooes Lady Grey, iii. 2, of the True Tragedy. However it is not on isolated scenes like these, but from a survey of the work as a whole, that I base my opinion that Greene was not the author of these contention plays j in every particular there is something beyond his power, and wide apart from his beaten track. If these scenes in question were written by Greene, why are they not paralleled by scenes from his acknowledged works ? Several parallel lines from the Contention and True Tragedy and Greene’s plays, have already been pointed out ; they are not numerous, but it is necessary that c xxxiv THE CONTENTION AND TEVE TRAOEBY. they should be given. — “ York. And when I spy advantag:e claim the crown. For that ’s the golden mark I seek to hit.” Con. i. 1. “ Sacripant. Friend only to myself And to the crown, for that ’s the golden mark Which makes my thoughts dream on a diadem.” Orlando, i. 1. “ Hitm. Pardon, my lord, a sudden qualm came o’er my heart” Con. 1 1. “ Q. Dor. A sudden qualm assails my heart. Janies IV. v. 1. “ Sir John. Jesus preserve your majesty. Eln. My majesty ! why, man, I am but grace.” Con. 1. 2. ** Org, God save your majesty. Sac. My majesty !” Orlando, p. 93, ed. Dyce. ^ “ S^if. Stay, villain, thy prisoner is a prince.” Con. iv. 1. “ Sac. Oh, villain, thou hast slain a prince !” Orlando, p. 107. “ Rich. This thirsty sword that longs to drink thy blood, Shall lop thy limbs, and slice thy cursed heart.” T. T. ii. 4. ” Ang. Slice the tender fillets of my life.” Orlando, p. 96. “ Boh. Ay’l so lop thy limbs, that thou ’s go with half a knave’s car- cass to the deil.” Janies 1 V. Induction, ” Rich. If any spark of life in thee remain, Down, down to hell and say I sent thee hither.” T. T. V. 6. “ Alph. And if he ask thee who did send thee down, Alphonsus say, who now must wear the crown.” Alphonsxis. ii. 1. These parallel passages are not numerous or important. The last quotation Mr. Collier considered ‘^a striking coincidence,” and triumphantly attributed the scene to Greene. Miss Lee gives the scene to Marlowe and sug- gests that he was under the influence of Greene ! Dr. Eurnival, speaking of 2 and 3 Henry VI. has I observed, — There is a markt feature in certain parts which no reader can miss noticing, but w hich no critic has ever yet assigned to any of the authors he supposes to have been a joint writer of the plays.” This marked feature is the frequent animal allusions and metaphors in the two plays. The same thing occurs in the Contention iNTliODUCTIO^^ XXXY and Trm Tragedy, although not to such an extent as in 2 and <3 Henry VI. Thus, — 1, Hawks. 2, Partridges, 3, Falcons, 4, Bears, 4a, Bearward, 5, Dogs, 6, Wolves, 7, Foxes, 8, Lamb, 9, Havens, 10, Wren, 11, Basilisk, 12, Scorpion, 13, Heifer, 14, Puttock, 15, Kite, 16, Lizards, 17, Serpents, 18, Screech-owl, 19, Mule, 20, Sprats, 21, Sheep, 22, Palfrey, 23, Bees, 24, Ostrich, 25, Lions, 26, Phoenix, 27, Doves, 28, Cur, 29, Wood- cock, 30, Coney, 31, Adders, 32, Tigers, 33, Tigers of Hyrcania, 34, Neat, 35, Eagle, princely eagle, 36, Steeds, 37, Worm, 38, Yenom Toads, 39, Summer flies, 40, Gnats, 41, Deer, 42, Cameleon, 43, Owl, 44, Poor fowl, 45, Night-Crow, 46, Chattering Pies, 47, Coursers, 48, Night-Owl, Whether these animal allusions will render any assistance in solving the authorship of these plays, remains to be seen ; the idea is certainly worth working out, and, I think, capable of application. What I now propose doing, is to quote the line or lines in the Contention and True Tragedy where these animal allusions occur, and give, as I deal with each author’s claim, parallel allusions from his plays. It is not intended to give all the allusions, but only those that seem pertinent to the quotations from these two plays. Farther on a Table will be found which will materially assist the reader in this matter, and probably suggest new ideas and possible combinations. Here follow parallel animal allusions between the Contention and True Tragedy and Greene’s plays.— 1. “ How high your haiok did soar,” Con. ii. 1. “ Here ’s good game for the hawk." Friar Bacon, p. 169, ed. Dyce, 2. “ And on a sudden soused the partridge down ” Con, ii. 1, “ We '11 fly the partridge.** Frxar Bacon, p. 174. xxxvi fHE CONTENTION AND TRITE TRAGEDY. 6. “ A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.'* Con iii. 1 “ Compel these dogs to keep their tongues in peace.” Alph. p. 243. “ Snarl and bite and i)lay the dog. T. T. v. 6. “ Like a mad dog that for anger bites himself.” Orlando, p. 133. 6. “ She-t«oZ/ of France, but worse than wolves of France.” T. T. i. 4. “ Sent forth an eager wolf bred up in France.” James IV, p. 219. 7. “ ^he fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.” Con. iii. 1. The more the fox is cursed the better he fares,” Friar Bacon, p, 173. 8. “ So looks the pent-up lion on the lamb." Con. iii. 2. “ But if the lamb should let the lion’s way.” James IV. p. 193. 9. Came he even now to sing a raven's note ?” Con. iii. 2. “ The ravening bird could never plague me worse.” Alphoiisus, p 226. 11, “ Come, basilisk, And kill the silly gazer with thy looks.” Con. iii, 2. “ So kills the basilisk with sight.” Groatsworth of Wit, p, 310, 17. “ Their music frightful like the serpent's hiss.” Con. iii, 2, “ He plays the serpent right.” Looking Glass for London, p. 144. 21. “ For stealing hheep ” Con. iv, 2. “ Like simple sheep." Alphonsus, p. 236, 23. “ Some say ’tis the bees that sting,” Con. iv, 7, “ Like a bee, Love hath a little sting.” Friar Bacon, p, 189. 26. “ While lions war and battle for their dens,” T. T. ii, 6. “ I know the lions are at strife,” James IV. p, 219. “ That in their chains fettered the kingly lion." T. T. v, 7. “ The lion king of brutish beasts,” James IV. p. 214, 26, “ My ashes, like the phoenix, may bring forth.” T. T. i, 4. “ Pficema; feathers, — heciwty's phoenix. Orlando, p. 123. 27, “ So doves will peck in rescue of their brood.” T. T. ii. 2. “ Guardian doves." A Maiden's Dream, p, 286. 31. “ Whose tongue more slanderous than the adder's tooth.” T. T. i. 4. “ The adder's tongue not half so dangerous.” Qroatsxv. of Wit. p. 310. * This proverb occurs in the old King John, Part 2, iii, 1, a scene ascribed by me to Greene, INTROb UCTION. Stxivil 82. “ Oh, tiger*8 heart wrapped in a woman’s hide !” T, T. i, 4. “ And tigers train their young ones to their nests.” Orlando, p. 143. 35. ” If thou be that princely eagle's bird.” T. T. ii, 1. “ To perch whereas the princely eagle sat.” Groatsw, of Wit^ p. 310. 36. “ Bestride our foaming speeds.” T, T, ii. 1. '• Lusty barbed steeds." Alphonsus, p 229. 57. “ The smallest worm will turn being trodden on.”* T, T, ii, 2. ** Nature’s looms of labouring loorms." Orlando, p. Ill, 41. ” This way, my lord, the deer is gone.” T. T. iv. 4. ” Alate we ran the deer," Friar Bacon, p, 163. 44. ” And yet for all that the poor fowl was drowned.” T T, v. 6. ” Disdain these little James IV. p, 215, 46. ” The night-crow cried,” T, T, v. 0. ” Hopper-cvw;,” James IV , p. 215, I shall reserve my remarks on this subject until the parallel animal allusions from the authors to whom these plays have been imputed, have been given. Finally, after a further study and reconsideration of the evidence on both sides of the question, I have definitely arrived at the conclusion that Greene had no hand in the com- position of the Contention and True Tragedy. It is satis- factory to find that this decision agrees with the opinion of so eminent a critic on our old dramatic literature as Prof. A. W. Ward who, writing of these plays, says : ^^That Greene had no share in the old plays on which the 2nd and 3rd parts of Henry VI, were founded, will, I think, be evident to any one capable of judging of dif- ferences of style ; and it is unnecessary to waste further words on the supposition.” {Hist. Dram. Lit. vol. 1, p. * Cf. the address to Greene’s Groatsworth of ITiY,— ” Stop shallow water Btm running, it will rage ; tread on a worme, and it willturne." xxxTiii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. 224), Nothing can be added to this critical dictum: the words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. The Shakespearean commentators who have advocated Gree ne^s claim to t hp authorship, or part authorship, of these plays, are Malone, Drake, Collier, and Ger vinus^ Peelers claim has now to be dealt with. The only external evidence in his favour is the passage, already given, in the Groatsworih of Wit, The paragraph runs thus: — ^‘And thou [?’.e. Peele] no less deserving than the other two, in some things rarer, in nothing inferior.’^ Then there is a collected allusion to the three dramatists, but capable of a personal application in each case: — Unto none of you, like me, sought these burs to cleave ; those puppets that speak from our mouths, those antics garnisht in our colours. ... Is it not like that you to whom they all have been beholding,’’ etc. On the strength of this allusion it has been assumed that Greene meant it to be inferred that Peele had a greater or smaller share in the composition of these plays. To me it is matter for surprise that such a construction should ever have been placed on the words ; ill-conceived inge- nuity has rarely perpetrated such an astounding absur- dity : there is absolutely no ground for the assumption. The internal evidence is of much about the same calibre as the external. Some critics have endeavoured to show that there is a similarity or resemblance between the style, thought, expression, construction, characterisation, and versification of these plays and Peele’ s. The result however has been a miserable failure ; indeed, all these attempts are characterised by a half-heartedness which carry with them their own negation. To me it seems INTRODUCTION, XXXIX there is a total difference of. style, expression, etc., be- tween Peele’s works and the Conterdion and True Tragedy, There is a greater freedom and refinement of style, a boldness and originality of thought and expression, and a more forcible and natural characterisation in these plays than is to be found in anything Peele has written. There is also a different system of versification, and a greater metrical fluency than Peele any where exhibits, although I admit there is an occasional resemblance, in the flow and rhythm of the verse, to some passages in Peele ; but this resemblance proves nothing, for many similar instances could be produced from contemporary plays in which it is known that neither Peele, nor any of the authors reputed to have been concerned in the Contention and True Tragedy had any share, e,g. The Misfortunes of Arthur^ which takes priority of these plays by some months, from whence could be drawn speech after speech bearing a close affinity in style and cadence to Peele’ s verse, and that of the Contention and True Tragedy, It may also be pointed out that there is an occasional resemblance in grammatical structure between these two plays and Peeie’s ; e.g,, sometimes a plural noun is coupled to a singular verb, and an adjective used in place of a noun. This peculiarity, as I have already shown, was common to the early Elizabethan dramatists, there- fore nothing conclusive can be drawn either for or against Peeie’s claim to a part authorship. Peele was addicted to the use of the ^^for to” expression, and that may be taken as an indication that he had some hand in these plays ; but the supposition is at once blocked by the fact xl THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. that other authors used it as frequently as he did, the premier place being occupied by Greene. As to the characterisation, it is unnecessary to argue the point ; if there were no other evidence available, the characters alone would sufficiently demonstrate the absence of Peele’s hand. It was as much beyond his power to draw King Henry, Edward, Duke Humphrey, Suffolk, Jack Cade, Elinor, or Lady Grey, as it was for him to create a Hamlet, Macbeth, or Desdemona. According to Mr. Fleay Peele’s share is confined to the Contention, and in his opinion the following scenes were written by him, viz., — i. 2, 3 (except 11. 45-103), 4; ii. 2, 3, 4. Here it will be seen how opinions, in persons capable of forming a sound judgment, differ on the same point, for the same scenes, with the exception of a few lines in i. 3, ii. 3, are assigned by Miss Lee to Greene. In i. 4, Mr. Fleay discovers the phrase sandy plains,” which he terms Peele’s trade-mark. The phrase occurs again in i. 4. Peele uses the phrase once, so far as I am aware, in his works, viz.. The Battle of Alcazar, v. 2; it is also found in the anonymous play of Jack Straw, ii. 2, 1593. Why the expression should be considered as belonging exclusively to Peele, I do not clearly see ; I should have thought any other writer would have been just as likely to use it as he, although, with the exception of the instances above and its double occurrence in the Contention, I have not met with it in any other plays, Shakespeare uses sandy earth” and sandy plot,” but sandy plains” only in 2 Henry IV. i. 4, his. Miss Lee points out the following passages in the True Tragedy as containing certain resemblance of thought INTRODUCTION, xli and expression” to some of Peele’s plays. — ** Ab I bethink me, you should not be king Till our Henry had shook hands with death.” T, T, i, 4. “ If holy David so shook hands with sin. What shall our baser spirits glory in ?” Dav. & Beth. ii. Chorus. “ Nay if thou be that princely eagle’s bird. Show thy descent by gazing on the sun.” T. T. ii. 1. “ And as the eagle rousM from her stand, emboldened With eyes intentive to bedare the sun.” Dav, av. Beth. p. 478, 41, ” Here is a deer." T. iii. 1, ” Like to the stricken deer." Arr. of Paris, iii. 1, 43. ” The owl shrieked at my birth.” T, T, v. 6i, ” The tragic owl." Dav, dc Beth. p. 482. 44, ” The poor fowl was drowned.” T, T, v. 6. ” Hang in the air tor fowls to feed upon.” Edw. 1. p, 406^ INTRODUCTION. xliii Reviewing the external and internal evidence in favour of Peele’s claim, it is by no means a difficult matter to arrive at the conclusion that he had no hand in the com- position of these plays ; the whole style, tone, thought, expression, phraseology, and general treatment run counter to his well defined method of work as exampled in his acknowledged productions. And I do not see how ‘^any one capable of judging of the differences of style’ ^ can avoid arriving at the same conclusion. Lodge’s claim has now to be considered. The only scrap of external evidence in his favour, is. the passage in the Groatsworth of Wit^ which runs thus: — Young Juvenal, that biting satirist, that lastly with me together writ a comedy.” From this, and other obscure allusions about the ‘‘puppets that speak from our mouths, those antics garnished with our colours,” and “is it not like that you to whom they [i.e. the players and the upstart crow] all have been beholding,” it is supposed that Lodge wrote some portion of the plays from one of which Greene parodied the line about a tiger’s heart wrapt in a player’s hide. It is also assumed that the Shakesoene, the upstart crow beautified with their feathers, had appropriated, or stolen, some of Lodge’s work, and passed it off to the players and the public as his own. That the “ young Juvenal that lastly with me together writ a comedy” was meant for Lodge there can, I think, be no doubt, for between 1588-90 Lodge joined with Greene in writing 4 Looking Glass for London and England ; but that Greene’s words furnish any proof, either direct or by presump- tion, that these two plays were meant in his charge of plagiarism^ and that Lodge and the others had any hand xiiv THE CONTENTION AND TRtlE TRAGEDY, in writing them, I deny absolutely. Supposing Greene’s words in the Groatsivorth of Wit to be true, there is no foundation — except the tiger’ s-heart line, which has been demolished — to support the hypothesis that the Contention and True Tragedy were the plays meant ; that such an argument should have been put forth by men like Dyce, Collier, Malone and others, is astounding, and may be regarded as a curiosity of Shakespeare criticism. The internal evidence is of the usual kind, and appears to me as unfavourable to the assertion that he was part author, as the external evidence. Owing to the fact that only two plays were published under his name, it is, perhaps, rather difficult to arrive at a correct estimate of his merits as a dramatist, or to form a definite opinion on those peculiarities of style, tone, etc., which is so neces- sary to enable a critic to distingiiish work by a writer when it is embedded in work by several other authors. This difficulty, according to my experience, is increased by the fact that there is a great similarity between the literary styles of Lodge and Greene. The two works by Lodge, are the Wounds of Civil IFar, 1594, and A Looking Glass for London, 1594, the latter being written jointly with Greene. Judging by those two works I do not dis- cover any affinity between them and the Contention and True Tragedy, either in point of style, thought, phraseo- logy, expression, characterisation, or dramatic treatment. In those idiosyncrasies of style which seem to be in- seperable from most authors, dramatic especially. Lodge appears to have been singularly deficient. In his work there are few of those mannerisms, turns of thought, repetitions, or colloquialisms which, in most authors, INtnObUCTION. form as it were a trade-mark and serve as a fairly safe guide to detecting their work. In his Womids of Civil War he uses the ^‘for to” expression twelve times (it is used nine times in these plays), but no definite conclusion can be drawn from the circumstance, for I have shown that other contemporary dramatists used it even more frequently than he did. Lodge’s versification is stiff and formal; as a rule his lines are end-stopped, and a run-on line is the exception ; he very seldom gives a line with a redundant or female ending, in fact he seems to have had an objection to the female ending line, for he fre- quently uses a noun instead of a verb apparently for the purpose of avoiding it. Rhyme occurs in his plays, but its use is not excessive. In the Wounds of Civil War there is but little prose ; in the Looking Glass for London prose and verse are about equal. The part in these plays attributed to Lodge is confined to the Contention, and comprises the following scenes, viz., — iv. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ; v. 1, 2, 3. This por- tion embraces the rebellion of Jack Cade, which occupies the whole of Act iv. and is mostly written in prose ; the death of Cade, v. 1, the death of Clifford, v. 2, and an unimportant scene, v. 3, at the end. This division gives to Lodge the sole conception and development of Cade — one of the most original and striking characters in the play. I cannot bring myself to believe that he was the author of these scenes ; there is a realism about them, a permanent vitality in the characters, which seems to me far beyond the scope and genius of Lodge. He has left no indication in his recognised plays that he was capable of such a consummate piece of workmanship, either in xWi THE CONTENTION AND TEUE TRAGEDY. point of cliaraeterisation or dramatic force : indeed, tli© evidence is all the other way. Kven in some of the subordinate characters of Cade’s rabblenient, such as Dick Butcher, Eobin, and Nick, tliere is a lifelike pen- cilling which declares the hand of a master, and that hand most assuredly was not Lodge’s. No dramatist except Shakespeare has left us such scenes, — so instinct with life and reality. V. 2, I think opposite to Lodge’s recognised style, rather than beyond his range. Finally, I am compelled to say, although the decision may run counter to the opinion of other critics, that in my judg- ment Lodge was not the author of the scenes in the Contention attributed to him ; and, further, that not the slightest trace of his hand, or manner of work, is to be found in the other portions of these plays. Kyd’s claim to a share in these old plays is of a very shadowy nature. The comic parts of the Contention have been attributed to him ; these comprise a portion of i. 3, where the petitioners from Long-Melford appear before the Queen and Suffolk, and mistaking the latter for Duke Humphrey present their petitions to him; a por- tion of ii. 1, concerning the Poor man, Sander, whose imposture is unmasked by Duke Humphrey ; and the scenes dealing with Cade’s insurrection. These parts have been ascribed to Kyd on the strength of his having written the Sander scenes in the Taming of A Shrew, and therefore he was the only one among his contemporary dramatists capable of writing them. There is no doubt that Kyd was the author of the Sander scenes in A ShreWy and he may have been capable of writing the petitioner and Poor man scenes in the Contention; yet I do INTRODUCTION, xlvii not think they are his. As to the Cade scenes, on the face of them they are manifestly not Kj^d’s ; they are as much beyond his range as they are beyond Lodge’s, and the same argument advanced against Lodge may be urged against Kyd. These scenes were all written by the same hand, but that hand, most assuredly, was not Kyd’s, nor Lodge’s, nor Greene’s. There is no external evidence in favour of Kyd beyond the fact that he wrote for the Queen’s men, and later on joined Pembroke’s players, therefore on that ground it is supposed that he anight have had a share in these plays. The internal evidence is confined to the point already mentioned, which taken in its most favourable aspect proves nothing decisively ; besides, I do not discover a trace of Kyd’s style in the scenes imputed to liim, and the mere coinci- dence of the name Sander being used in A Shrew and in the Contention, is curious rather than conclusive, and cannot be taken as definite evidence in matters of this kind ; such coincidences are not uncommon in literature. I have found several resemblances of thought and ex- pression between Kyd’s pla^^s and the Contention and True Tragedy, wliicii I give below, leaving the reader to draw his own cunciusions from them. — “ King, What’s the matter that you stay so suddenlj-? Hum, Pardon, my lord, a sudden qualm came o’er my heart.” Con, i. 1. “ Luc, What ails you, madam, that your colour changes ? Her. A sudden qualm, I therefore take my leave.” Sol. <£? Her. p. 294. “ Big-swoln venom.” Con. i. 1. “ Big-swoln phrases,” Jeronimo, Hazlitt’s Dodsley, vol. IV. p. 851 I had in charge at my depart for France,” Con. i. 1. “ I had in charge at my depart for Spain.” Jer. 4. p. 362. “ For so I gave in charge at my depart.” Span. Trag. 5. p, 16. xlviii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. “ From depth of underground.” Con. i. 2. “ From depth of underground.” Span, Trag, p. 36. “ He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.” T. T. iii. 2. “ The lying’st knave in Christendom.” Con. n. 1. “ The braging’st knave in Christendom.” Sol & Per. vol. 5. p. 275. “ Have you not beadles in your town, And things called whips ?” Con. ii. 1. ” And there is Nemesis and furies, And things called whips.” Span. Irag. p. 106. ” Come, basilisk, [i.e, cockatrice] And kill the silly gazer with thy looks.” Con. iii. 2. ” What are thy looks but like the cockatrice. That seeks to wound poor silly passengers ?” Sol Jk Per. p. 299. ” As free as heart can think, or tongue can tell,” Con. iv. 2. ” I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell, Or mortal hearts can think.” Span, I rag, p, 9. ” And so he walks insulting o’er his prey.” T. TJ. i, 3. “ Yet while the prince, insulting o’er him, Breathed out proud vaunts.” Span. Trag. p. 14, *• Thou art as opposite to every good. As the Antipodes are unto us. Or as the south to the septentrion.” T. T.\, 4. ” From east to west, from south to the septentrion.” Sol. cfc Per. p, 326. ” Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird. Show thy descent by gazing ’gainst the sun.” T. T. ii. 1. “ As air-bred eagles if they once perceive That any of their brood but close their sight When they should gaze against the glorious sun, They straightway seize upon then with their talents.” Sol, dk Per, p. 319. Of all the dramatists yet mentioned, Marlowe’s claim is, at the first glance, the most formidable, for, as Dr. Ulrici remarks, in point of ‘‘grandeur, in power and boldness of spirit, in vigour and energy of will, in free- dom of mind and independence of thought, he unques- tionably stood next to Shakespeare” ; yet I think it can INTRODUCTION, xlix be demonstrated that he had no share in the writing of these plays. Dj^ce strenuously insists on a Marlowean authorship of at least one of the jjlays, the True Tragedy, In the preface to his edition of Marlowe, p. xlviii., he says: — ^^To the First Fart of the Contention and the True Tragedy Greene may have contributed his share ; so also may Lodge, and so may Peele have done : but in both pieces there are scenes characterised by a vigour of con- ception and expression, to which, as their undisputed works demonstratively prove, neither Greene, nor Lodge, nor Peele could possibly have risen. Surely, therefore, we have warrant for supposing that Marlowe was very largely concerned in the First Fart of the Contention and of the True Tragedy ; and the following instances of their occasional close resemblance to his Edward the Second are confirmative of that supposition, however little such parallelisms might be thought to weigh, if they formed the only grounds for it.” Then follow the parallel pas- sages in favour of Marlowe, which will be found, with additions, farther on in this Introduction. The external evidence in favour of Marlowe is limited to two items, viz., the allusion in the Groatsworth of Wit, and the mention on the title-page of 1595 that the True Tragedy was acted by the Earl of Pembroke’s players. The allusion in the Groatsworth of Wit commences, ^‘thou famous gracer of tragedians,” and from what follows it is clear that the reference is to Marlowe ; this seems to me the only definite point in the matter. Why it should be further assumed that Marlowe was part author of these plays and that he had been pilfered by the up- start crow and Shakescene, is one of those enigmas which d I THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, I do not care about wasting time in attempting to solve. The perversity of some critics is responsible for much of the mist and confusion which lias been woven round this celebrated passage. The fact that Greene parodied a line from the True Tragedy is surely no proof that he intended to indicate that play as the one which had been plagia- rised, or that he and Marlowe were part authors of it, as well as of the Contention, The 1595 title-page of the True Tragedy says it vas acted by Pembroke’s players, and the same words appear on the title of Marlowe’s Edward II, ; from this coincidence tlie conclusion has been drawn that he was the author, or part author, of the former play ; the assumption is groundless, and proves nothing except that Marlowe wrote for Pembroke’s men. On the contrary the circumstance rather militates against a Greene-Marlowe authorship, for there is no evidence that Greene ever wrote a line for Pembroke’s players : he wrote some spiteful lines against them, calling them a “ company of taffeta fools” etc., and that seems to be his only connection with them. Besides, if, as I have endeavoured to show, the True Tragedy was written in 1589, that fact alone gives the death-blow to the theory that the play was tlie joint production of Greene and Marlowe, for at that time (early in the year) they were on bad terms with each other, occasioned by Marlowe leaving Greene’s company, the Queen’s, and joining Pembroke’s. So much for the external evidence, which to my mind is insuperable against Marlowe’s claim. The internal evidence consists of style, thought, ex» pression, imagery, characterisation, versification, parallel passages, and animal allusions. These different points iNfkbDucfloK. ii of evidence on careful examination prove, I think, that Marlowe was not connected in any way with the com- position of these dramas. The first thing that strikes one on reading the Contention and True Tragedy is the total dissimilarity of style between them and Marlowe’s plays. As an instance in support of this assertion I would point to the murder of Duke Humphrey, Con, iii. 2 ; here is a scene which in point of style, thought, phraseology, and general treatment, is as opposite to Marlowe’s method as is the south to the septentrion”. Let those readers who are familar with Marlowe’s style imagine how he would have treated such a scene, and my meaning will be clear. Many passages in this very scene could be pointed out which prove it to be beyond the power, if not beyond the range, of Marlowe. Occa- sionally one does come across a few lines, which from their turgidness and bombast seem to be cast in his mould, e,g, Suffolk’s speech in the scene mentioned above p. 55, but they are so rare that I much doubt whether half a dozen examples could be pointed out ; the disson- ance, however, is transitory and heralds the emergence into a purer and more natural style. Another scene affords even more convincing testimony of what I have said above ; I allude to the death of Cardinal Beaufort in iii. 3, of the Contention, This scene contains only 21 lines, but for horror and despair, nothing approaching it can be found in all literature, dramatic or otherwise. Could Marlowe have written such a scene ? and if not, why should it not be given to a greater master of the awful and sublime than was Marlowe ? It is true that the nearest approach to anything of a similar order is lii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. found in Marlow’s death scene of Faustus, but that scene, grand as it is, is immeasurably below the death of Car- dinal Beaufort, and three times as long. Had Marlowe attempted a scene like that, he would, judging from his usual style, have prolonged and inflated it with rant and high-flown terms as he did with Faustus. There is some thing great and colossal about Marlowe’s genius, but he had not acquired the niceties of his art ; he w^as wanting in a masterly brevity. In my opinion this scene is as much beyond Marlowe’s scope and power as are the pastoral scenes in As You Like It, C)ther scenes can be readily pointed out as being opposite to his style and method, if indeed they are not beyond his range ; e.g. True Tragedy, i. 4, Clifford’s speech, ^‘My gracious lord, this too much lenity,” ii, 2, ii. 6, ^‘Here burns my candle out,” Gloster’s speech, ‘‘Ay, Edward will use women honourably,” iii. 2, Warwick’s speech, “ Ah, who is nigh ?” V. 2, and the crowning speech of Gloster in v. 6, Is it possible to conceive Marlowe writing such a speech as the following one by York in the True Tragedy, i. 4 ? ’Tis beauty that oft make women prouc^, But God he wots thy share thereof Is small : ’Tis government that makes them most admired, The contrary doth make thee wondered at ; ’Tis virtue that makes them seem divine, The want thereof makes thee abominable, Thou art as opposite to every good, As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion. Oh, tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide ! How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal. And yet be seen to bear a woman’s face ? Women are mild, pitiful, and flexible ; Thou indurate, stern, rough, remorseless, INTRODUCTIO'N. liii Bids thou me rage ? why now thou hast thy will. Wouldst have me weep? why so thou hast thy wish. For raging winds blow up a storm of tears, And when the rage allays the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obesequies, And every drop begs vengeance as it falls, On thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.” If these speeches are by Marlowe, as some people as- sert, why are they not paralleled by passages, equalling them in merit, from his works ? My study of Marlowe has not discovered anything approaching them in style, thought, expression, or fluency of rhythm, therefore I cannot bring myself to believe that he wrote them. Here is a very favourable specimen of Marlowe’s style ; it is neither the best nor the worst that could be chosen, but may be taken as an average sample ; it is from the Second Part of Tamhurlaine, ii. 4 : — \ j “ 'lamb. Black is the beauty of the brightest day ; The golden ball of Heaven’s eternal fire. That danced with glory on the silver waves. Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams j And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace. He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, Ready to darken earth with endless night. Zenocrate, that gave him light and life, Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers. And tempered every soul with lively heat, Now by the malice of the angry skies. Whose jealousy admits no second mate, Draws in the comfort of her latest breath, AH dazzled with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walls of Heaven, As sentinels to warn the immortal souls To entertain divine Zenocrate, Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, Shine downward now no more, but deck the Heavens, To entertain divine Zenocrate. The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates liv THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. RefinM eyes with an eternal si^ht. Like tri6d silver, run through Paradise, To entertain divine Zeiiocrate. The cherubims and holy seraphims, That sing and play before the King of kings. Use all their voices and their instruments To entertain divine Zenocrate. And in this sweet and curious harmony, The God that tunes this music to our souls. Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertain divine Zenocrate. Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts Up to the palace of th’ ernpj’^real heaven. That this life may be as short to me As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.” From this speech, which will also serve as the basis for an examination of Marlowe’s system of versification, it will be seen that he occasionally fell into the habit, common to several other dramatists, of repeating him- self : mark how he plays on the line,— ‘‘ To entertain divine Zenocrate.” Instances of such repetitions occur frequently in his works ; the following are pointed out by Dyce in his edition of Marlowe, p. 245. — ” ril fire his crazed buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly earth,” Mas. of Par. p. 246, ” I’ll fire thy crazM buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground.” Edw. 11. p. 189. ” Highly scorning that the lowly earth,” etc. Ih. 212. I point out this peculiarity on account of the numerous repetitions occuring in the Contention and True Tragedy ; this matter will be again reverted to later on. The opening lines of the above speech strike me as bearing some resemblance to the first lines of scene i. of 1 Henry VI, It is now necessary to make a short ex- amination of Marlowe’s versification, for the purpose of INTllODUCTION. W comparison with the versification of the two plays under discussion ; the speech already quoted will serve, and be handy for reference. Of all his predecessors and con- temporaries, Shakespeare excepted, he was by far the greatest master of blank verse, so far as vigour, ease, and rhythm are concerned. Occasionally there is a stiff- ness in his verse, or a lame, slipshod line, but upon the whole it must be admitted that he handled the five foot iambic unrhynied verse with a greater freedom and boldness than any writer had hitherto done. The speech just given contains 37 lines ; on a scrutiny it is found that 30 lines have a pause at the end, and 7 are un- stopped ; later in his career Marlowe, like Shakespeare, decreased the percentage of end-stopped lines and in- creased the unstopped ones. Again, 34 lines end with an emphatic or accented word or syllable, while the re- maining 3 lines have a redundant or female ending; also note that line 7 commences with a trochee; also that the caesura invariably falls on the fourth syllable, except in lines 7 and 28 wherein the pause is at the end of the fifth syllable, thus forming a sort of mid-line feminine ending. By the use of these metrical artifices a mono- tonous cadence was avoided, and a greater variety of rhythm obtained, thus giving to the dialogue the ease and flow of natural talk. Two rhyming couplets are in the speech. In the Prologue to 1 Tamburlaine, Marlowe professed to have shaken himself free ^^From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits,” and certainly rhyme is used very sparingly in his plays, when it is remembered that it was a rhyming period. This sparing use of rhyme coupled with a similar abstinence in the Contention and Ivi THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, True Tragedy, is one of the arguments relied on by those who advocate a Marlowean authorship of those plaj^s. An examination proves rather unfavourable to the as- sumption. In 1 Tamhurlaine, which contains about 2650 lines, there are 24 rhymed lines ; in the Second Part, with 2600 lines, there are 30 rhymed lines. The percent- age in the First Part is about 1 rhy ming couplet to every 220 lines; in the Second Part it is 1 in 172 lines. In the Contention, with 1993 11., there are 40 rhymed lines, being 1 rhyming couplet to every 98 lines ; the total lines in the 2'rue Tragedy is 2065 with 55 rhymed lines, being 1 rhyming couplet to every 76 lines. In Marlowe’s later plays rhy^me becomes even less frequent, so that the test applied to the Contention and True Tragedy proves, con- trary to all previous investigation, that Marlowe could not have been the author of them. I have not applied other verse tests to these plays, for it is needless to ac- cumulate proofs where, on the face of it, it is self evident that the versification of the Contention and True Tragedy is not Marlowe’s versification. There are several minor points, which have been urged in support of Marlowe’s authorship, yet to be disposed of ; i,e, the ‘‘for to” expression, the use of a plural noun coupled to a singular verb ; but these, as I have already shown, were used more or less frequently by most of the Elizabethan dramatists, and therefore are worthless in deciding questions of disputed authorship. The characterisation has now to be considered. Here the questions arise, — Which of the characters are due to the conception of Marlowe ? and, do they bear any resemblance to the characters in his acknowledged INTRODUCTION. Ivii works ? The comic characters are at once ruled out of discussion by the fact that Marlowe had no bent for comedy, notwithstanding the pompous statement of the printer of Tamburlaine ’^ho, addressing the gentlemen readers, says, — I have purposely omitted and left out some fond and frivolous gestures, disgressing, and in my poor opinion, far unmeet for the matter, which I thought might seem more tedious unto the wise than any way else to be regarded, though hapl}^ they have been of some vain-conceited fondlings greatly gaped at.’^ If the comic personages are not Marlowe’s, the serious ones must be examined, taking only those of importance such as King Henry, Duke Humphrey, Cardinal Beaufort, York, Edward, Richard, the two Cliffords, Suffolk, and Queen Margaret. Here is a varied portrait gallery re- quiring no little skill on the artist’s part to pourtray their characters as they appear in the pages of these old plays. Which of these are due to the genius of Marlowe ? The character of King Henry has received some salient touches, does he bear the stamp as coming from Mar- lowe’s mint ? if so, would he have drawn him the meek, pious, peaceful, weak being he is here represented to have been ? Marlowe’s energy and towering ambition for all that was greatly grand and eminently bad, would have turned from the creation of such a creature in dis- gust ; or had he drawn such a character he would have branded him as a sycophant, a maudlin driveller, totally unfitted for the position in which he was placed, and therefore to be pushed into the background in well merited contempt. As proof, compare the death of King Henry with the death of Marlowe’s Edward II. There Iviii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. is a sharp contrast between the pious feebleness of Henry and the passionate energy and unscrupulous villainy of Richard, demanding and displaying great versatility on the part of the dramatist. Did Marlowe possess this genius ? Can he be credited with the conception of this stupendous being whose character may be summed up as a compound of courage, brutal wickedness, hypocrisy, and sarcastic villainy ? He has left nothing in his un- disputed works that would lend even a colourable support to the affirmative answer. Cardinal Beaufort does not make a long or frequent appearance in the scenes of the Contention, yet his character is as distinctly drawn as if double the number of pages had been devoted to him, and there is great subtilty and psychological power shown in developing his aggrandising and unscrupulous nature ; nothing at all approaching him is to be found in Marlowe’s dramas, in fact his prelates upon the whole are tame and colourless. The same may be said of York and the two Cliffords ; and the creation of such a character as the good Duke Humphrey was as impossible to him as was that of King Henry ; yet the Contention could not have been written later than 1588, and between that date and 1593, the year of his death, he must have had ample time and opportunity for maturing his skill in characterisation. That he did improve in that respect is beyond doubt, and the advance he made may be seen in his Edicard II., but I contend that the great characters in the Contention and True Tragedy are infinitely better, in every respect, than the best that can be found in that play. Marlowe could, and did, create and delineate great, nay stupendous characters — Faustus for instance INTRODUCTION. lix — but that he could conceive such characters as Henry, Duke Humphrey, York, Hichard, or Suffolk who re- quired, and received, in their delineation something more than matchless power and energy could give them, I hold to be as much beyond his scope as it was beyond his genius. Queen Margaret too, the Cassandra like being who hovers like an evil destiny over the whole contention, is not a Marlowean character. Marlowe has left no great women, either good or evil, in his plays ; Zenocrate, Abigail, and Queen Isabel are the only types he has drawn and they are weak and insipid enough ; is it, therefore, unreasonable to conclude that he was unable to pourtray, faithfully and consistently, such a jealous, disloyal, vindictive, bloodthirsty woman as was Queen Margaret. The resemblances of thought and expression between Marlowe’s works and the Contention and True Tragedy ^ are more numerous and important than in Greene’s case; the parallel passages pointed out by Dj^ce, with such as I have been able to add to them, are given below. — “ The big-swoln venom of thy hateful heart.” Con. i. 1. “ To stop the malice of his envious heart.” Mas. at Paris, i. 1. “ Watch thou and wake when others be asleep.” Con. i. 1. “ For this I wake when others think I sleep.” Mas. at Par. i. 1. “ But still must be protected like a child, And governed by that ambitious duke.” Con. i. 3. “ As though your highness were a schoolboy still, And must be awed and governed like a child.” Edw. 11. iii. 2. “ I tell thee, Poole, when thou didst run at tilt. And stol’st away our lady’s heart in France.” Con. i. 3. “ Tell Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus. When for her sake I ran at tilt in France.” Edw. 11. y. 5. lx THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. “ Even to my death, for I have lived too long.” Con. ii. 3. “ Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived.” Edw. 11. v. 6. “ The wild O’ Neal, my lord, is up in arms, With troops of Irish kerns, that, uncontrolled. Do plant themselves within the English pale.” Con. iii.. 1. “ The wild O’ Neal, with swarms of Irish kerns. Live uncontrolled within the English pale.” Edio. II. ii. 2. “ Thrice by awkward winds driven back.” Con. iii. 2, “ Awkward winds, and tempests sore driven.” Edw. II, iv. 6. “ War. I cannot choose but he w’as murdered. Queen. Suffolk and the Cardinal had him in charge. And they, I trust, sir, are no murderers. . . . Car. But have you no greater proof than this ?” Con. iii. 2. “ Y. Mot. Who is the man dares say I murdered him ? K. Edw. Traitor ! in me my loving father speaks. And plainly saith, ’t was thou that murdered’st him. y. Mot. But has your grace no other proof than this !” Edw. II. v. 6, “ I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.” T. T. i. 1. “ I will strike. And cleave him to the channel with my sword.” 2 Tam. i. 3. “ Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas.” T. T. i. 1. “ The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas.” Edw. 11. ii, 2, “ Queen. Look, York, I dipped this napkin in the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point Made issue from the bosom of thy boy ; And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.” T. T. I. 4. ‘‘ K. Edw. Bear this to the queen. Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs ; [Gives a handkerchief. If with the sight thereof she be not moved. Return it back and dip it in my blood.” Edw. 11. v. 1. “ Tigers of Hyrcania.” T. T. i. 4. “ Tigers of Hyrcania gave the suck.” Dido, v. 1. “ How often did I see him bear himself As doth a lion amidst a herd of neat.” T, T. ii. 1, INTRODUCTION. Ixi As princely lions when they rouse themselves, Stretching their paws and threat‘ning herds of neat.* 1 Tam. i. 2. “ Sweet Duke of York, our only prop to lean upon. Now thou art gone there is no hope for us.” T. T. ii. 1. “ Sweet Duke of Guise, our prop to lean upon. Now thou art dead there is no stay for us.” Mas. at Par. sc. 23. “ Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle.” T. T. v. 2. “ A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing. On whose top branches kingly eagles perch.” Edw. II. n. 2. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster, Sink into the ground? I thought it would have mounted.'* T. T. V. 6. “ And highly scorning that the lowly earth. Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air.” Edw. II. v. 1. “ Frown’st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster?’’ Edw. II. i. 1. I now give the parallel animal allusions in the Con- tention and True Tragedy, and Marlowe’s plays. 6. ‘ Snarl and bite and play the dog. * T. T. v. 1. * Pull the tripple-headed dog from hell.* 1 Tam. i. 2. 6. ‘ Whilst wolves stand snarring who shall bite him first. * Con. iii. 1, ‘ For he ’s a lamb encompassed with wolves.* Jew of Malta., v. 1, 7. ‘ The/oa; barks not when he would steal the lamb.* Con. iii. 1. ‘ Like a fox in midst of harvest-time. Doth prey upon my flocks of passengers.* 1 Tam. i. 1. 8. ‘ So looks the pent-up lion on the lamb. T. T. i. 3. ‘ A lamb encompassed with wolves.’ Jew. v. 1. 9. * Came he even now to sing a raven*s note ?’ Con. iii 2. ‘ Thus like the sad presaging raven that tells *■ The sick man’s passport in his hollow beak.* JeWy ii. 1, 10. ‘ Thinks he that the chirping of a wren.* Con, iii. 2. ‘ The wren may strive against the lion's strength.* Jew. v. 3. 17. ‘ Who 'scapes the lurking serpenfs mortal sting ?* T. T. ii. g, < Tbe jaws of serpents venomous,* 1. Tam. iii. 3, Ixii THE CONTENTION AND TEVE TEAGEDY. 21. * For stealing ' Con. iv. 2, ‘ Seven thousand sheep.* Jew, i. 1. 23. ‘ Like an angry hive of bees. * Con. iii, 2. ♦ Like labouring bees.* Dido, p. 270. 25. * As doth a lion ’midst a herd of neat.’ T. T. ii, 1. * As princely lions when they rouse themselves, Stretching their paws and threatening herds of neat.’ 1 Tam. i. 3. • That in their chains fettered the kingly lion. And made the forest tremble when he roared.* T. T. v. 7. • Whei> the imperial lion*s flesh is gored, He rends and tares it with his wrathful paw.’ Edw. 11. v. 1. 27. ‘ Doves will peck in rescue of their brood.’ T. T. ii. 2. ‘ More of the serpent than the dove.* Jew, ii. 3. 31. ‘ Whose tongue more sland’rous than the adder* s tooth.’ T. T. i. 4, ‘ Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile.’ Faustus, p 102, 32. ‘ Oh, tiger*s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide !’ T- T- 1. 4. ‘ More safety is there in a tiger's jaws, Than his embracements. ’ Edw. //. v. 1, 33. ‘ Tigers of Hyrcania. * T. T. i. 4. ‘ Tigers of Hyrcania.’ Dido, v. 1 34. ‘ As doth a lion ’midst a herd of neat.* T. T. ii. 1. ‘ Princely lions . . . threat’ning herds of neaf.’ \. Tam. i. 2. 35. ‘ If thou be that princely eagle* s bird.’ T. T. ii. 1. * Drawn with princely eagles.* 2 Tam. iv, 3. ♦ Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle.* T. T. v. 2. • On whose top branches kingly eagles perch.’ Edw. 11. ii. 2. 86. * Bestride our foaming steeds.* T. T. ii. 1. ♦ Winged steeds.* 1 Tam. iii. 2 * Barbarian steeds.* 2 Tam. i. 2. 41. ‘ Here is a deer, his skin is a keeper’s fee.* T. T. iii. 1. ‘ Now have we got the fatal struggling deer.* Mas. at Par. 1. 4, 44 ‘ The poor fowl was drowned.’ T. T- v, 6. ‘ Lovely water-fowl.* Dido, iv. 6. ^ Winged /owf^.* Edw, IJ. y, 3, 48. * Like the night-owl* s lazy flight. * T. T. ii. 1. ♦ Must I bs vexed like the nightly-bird ?’ Edw. IJ, v, 3, INTRODUCTION. Ixiii On taking a final survey of the evidence adduced in favour of Marlowe’s claim to a share in these plays, my original opinion, that he had no hand in them, is con- firmed ; and I do not think it would be a difficult matter to prove on aesthetic grounds the same conclusion. The great turning point in the discussion of the author- ship of the Contention and True Tragedy has now been reached, and Shakespeare’s title to their composition has to be considered. At the outset I nail my colours to the mast by saying emphatically that I believe Shakespeare to be sole author of them : that they are imperfect re- ports, surreptitiously obtained and piratically published, of the Second and Third Parts of his Henry VI. This assertion will necessitate a short digression from the main thread of this argument, for the purpose of offering a few remarks on the First Part of Henry VI., and its relation to the plays here reprinted. There is no edition of the First Part of Henry VI. earlier than the Folio of 1623, but the internal evidence proves that it must have been written at a very early date, I should say fully thirty- five years before it was published in the Folio. That would give the year 1588, probably about the middle, as the time of writing, certainly not later nor much earlier ; this hypothesis is strengthened by the structure of the blank verse which is of that stiff, formal nature which was the vogue at the time ; it is also to be observed that the verse lines, with some few exceptions, have a pause at the end, another sign of early origin. The number of rhymes, 314, is deserving of notice and will be com- mented upon below. There was no entry at Stationers’ Hall until the year of the publication of the first Folio, Ixiv THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. 1623) when it was entered as the Third Part of Henry VI ; this is curious, and there is probably some secret history behind it yet to be unravelled. I have shown that the Contention was entered in 1594, but the True Tragedy does not appear to have been entered until 1 602 although it had issued from the press in 1595 and 1600, In April 1602 the copyright was assigned by Millington, to whom both plays belonged, to Pavier, and in the as- signment they are called the First and Second Parts of Henry FJ. ij books’^ ; there is some jugglery in the transaction, but there can be no doubt that the Contention and True Tragedy were the plays meant. Beyond doubt Pavier’ s 1 and 2 Henry VI. was the embryo, gradually developing year by year by additions obtained at the theatre, of the Whole Contention published by Pavier in 1619 as ‘‘Written by William Shakespeare, Gent,” Now if the play known as the First Part of Henry VI. had no connection with, or bearing upon, these plays, why did Messrs Heminge and Condell enter it as the third part of Henry VI? The cii^cumstance ei^plains itself; the genuine 2 and 3 parts liad been pirated, and entered as the First and Second parts, the real First part coming last was entered as the Third Part of the series, although practi- cally the First Part, The astonisliing fact in the matter is that no pirated edition of the First Part was issued; it shows that the theatrical possessors of the MS. had become alive to its value, and were more careful in their custody of it — a lesson probably taught then by MiUingr ton’s sharp practice. That this play was the initiative of the trilogy I regard as an indisputable fact ; and the theory put forth by some critics that it was written after INTRODUCTION, Ixv Parts 2 and 3, is a wholly untenable position : that the play was altered and added to at a later date I shall presently show. The whole race of commentators, with one or two brilliant exceptions, from Powe to the present time have regarded it wdth suspicion if not actual contempt, and have more or less vigorously denied a Shakespearean origin. Unsuccessful attempts have been made to father it upon Greene, Peele, Lodge, and Marlow^e, singly or the four authors combined. Malone, who was at first inclined to believe in a Shakespearean authorship, after- wards changed his opinion on the ground that Shake- pearean passages were not to be found in it ! although he admitted such passages did occur occasionally in the second and third parts. Coleridge, in his Lectures, com- menting on the opening lines, “ Hung be the heavens with black,” said, ^‘Pead aloud any two or three pas- sages in blank verse, even from Shakespeare’s earliest dramas, as Lovers Labours Lost or Romeo and Juilet, and then read in the same way this speech, wdtli special attention to the metre ; and if you do not feel the im- possibility of the latter being written by Shakespeare, all I dare suggest is, that you may have ears — for so has another animal [i.e., Coleridge himself] — but an ear you cannot have, me judice.^^ Well, perhaps so, and perhaps not. Let us now look on the other side of the canvas. The play is as well authenticated as many of Shake- speare’s other plays. It was published in the first col- lected edition of his works issued by his personal friends and fellow actors, Heminge and Condell, who were, undoubtedly, men of credit and position, and their attes- e Ixvi THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. tation, as Dr. Johnson observes, ‘^ inay be received in questions of fact, however unskilfully they superintended their edition.” How do the commentators explain the action of Heminge and Condell ? By supposing they included the play merely for the sake of making the series complete ! Does not this shallow explanation ex- pose and demolish the position they have taken up on this question ? Besides, who was most likely to be best informed on the subject, Heminge and Condell or the commentators who lived a hundred and fifty years after they and their fellow Shakespeare” had walked the way of nature” ? Unless their testimony can be dis- proved, and it has not yet been shaken, I shall continue to believe that Shakespeare wrote the play and that it must form an integral part of his works. It is true that Meres, enumerating Shakespeare’s plays in 1598, does not mention Henry VI. although he does Titus AndronicuSy but the fact does not prove that Shakespeare was not the author of the piece ; it is quite possible it escaped his memory at the time, or that it was left out by accident on the part of the author or compositor ; such omissions are not uncommon in literature. Meres also mentions a play by Shakespeare called Love's Labours Won, which has not yet been satisfactorily recognised, for editors and critics apparently differ in their opinion as to which of his plays went under that title. I do not mention this circumstance with the intention of casting any doubt on Meres- testimony, but as a possible instance of that liability to err which is inseperable from all human en- deavour. Under these circumstances I shall assume that Heminge and Condell were right, in deed and fact, in INTRODUCTION. Ixvil including it in the Folio edition, that Shakespeare was the author of it, and that the period of writing was about the middle of 1588. Here it is necessary to enquire the time of its production on the stage, the company by whom it was acted, and the theatre where it was pre- sented ; on these points there is no definite evidence, but I see no reason why a surmise should not be as admis- sible in this matter as in any other, especially if it be not at variance with such facts as bear upon it. When Shakespeare left Stratford-on-Avon and came to London, it is universally believed that he found em- ployment in some capacity at the theatre. The date of his leaving his native town is generally fixed at 1585 or 1586, but the theatre or company where he was first engaged is not known. Most theatrical historians attach him to the Chamberlain’s company, but the formation of this distinctive set of players does not date before 1594, although it succeeded other sets and the succession is direct, therefore an interregnum of eiglit or nine years has to be accounted for. In my opinion Shakespeare on coming to London did not then join the company with whom he afterwards identified himself and remained during the whole of his connection with the theatre ; I am rather inclined to think that he passed through two or three companies before the final settling down took place. For a long time past there has been a growing disposition in my mind that Shakespeare when he arrived in London, joined the company of players known as the Queen’s. What his status was is of no consequence to this discussion ; perhaps, as Rowe suggested, it was some menial capacity, but his native energy and genius Ixviii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. would hardly allow him to remain in that position long ; no doubt he rose rapidly as an actor, at the same time laying by that knowledge of stagecraft which afterwards stood him in such good stead. That he learned his craft as dramatic author by toucliing up and adding to plays by other dramatists, I do not for a moment believe ; it is marvellous how such men as Dyce and others could pro- pound such a theory. Would a novice be selected to touch up and alter such dramas as held possession of the stage in 1588 or a few years before that date ? Would an embryo Leighton or Millais be called upon to alter or improve a work by a master ? The principle in both cases is the same. Later on Shakespeare may have made ad- ditions to, and renovated, old plays for his company— Greene called him an “ absolute Johannes Factotum,” — but in my opinion he commenced dramatic author -by trying his hand at original composition. In 1586-87 Greene was the chief playwright for the Queen’s men, and there, no doubt, Shakespeare would come in contact with him ; it may be that there was some relation be- tween them as master and pupil, but whether that were so or no, it is very probable that Shakespeare would ex- tract from him all that was likely to be of value to him in the sphere into which his genius was leading him, and there can be no doubt but that he was soon in a position to give Greene a lesson in his own art. While with this company he wrote for them, as I conceive, the First Part of Henry VI., which was played by them at the Theatre in 1588 ; continuing the vein here struck, he wrote for the same company the Second Part, or as Millington ingeniously called it, the First Fart of the Contention, &c, INTROD UCTION. Ixix It is not difficult to imagine the stir two such pieces would cause in the theatrical world of the day with its vapid, inanimate dramas written, for the most part, in turgid dialogue. Destiny had formed an unhappy con- junction. There was the gentle Shakespeare, overflow- ing with robust genius and poetic fancy, and the jealous Greene, the conservative representative of the old school of dramatists, in the same company ; the one overpeering the other as much as the sun overpeers a rushlight. Such a state of things was not to be borne by Greene who could not tolerate a peer so near his throne : about this time he commenced his virulent attacks on a player- dramatist who has since been identified as Shakespeare. Disgusted with his fellow artist, Shakespeare left the Queen’s men — in sorrow, I hope, rather than anger — and joined Pembroke’s players, for whom he wrote the Third Part of Henry VI. — Millington’s True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York — and perhaps other plays. His stay with this company could not have been long, for in the same year, 1589, or 1590 he joined Lord Strange’s men and thus worked himself into that path which he trod with such conspicuous ability and success during the remainder of his theatrical career. Before leaving this branch of the subject I cannot too strongly impress upon the reader that the view here taken is purely hypo- thetical ; such evidence as can be ofltered in support is of a very meagre and indefinite nature, — the theory is evolved by the method of deductions rather than positive testimony ; however, I feel certain that time and patient research will in the end confirm and emphasise the just- ness of the conjecture. Ixx THE CONTENTION AND tWe TRAGEDY. Eeturning from this digression to the main thread of the argument, it is to be remarked that this play, in all probability, was not distinguished by the title of the First Part of H^nry VI, until it was printed in the first Folio ; previous to that publication it was known simply as Henry VI, It was apparently a very popular drama, and frequent revivals took place. According to Ilenslowe’s Diary it was revived by that money-lending manager in 1592, and played at the Bose theatre by Lord Strange’s men, the company to which Shakespeare belonged. In the Diary it is called Henry VI, only. Between Mar. 3, and June 19, 1592, thirteen representations were given, Henslowe’s share in the receipts being entered at £3. 6. 8. Affixed to the entry in the Diary are the letters n. e. [i,e, new enterlude] which Ilenslowe usually attached to a new play. It is clear, how^ever, that it was not a new play in the strict sense of the word, but Shakespeare’s old Queen’s play revived, with the addition, by him, of the Talbot scene. Ilenslowe, whose conscience was re- markably elastic, by a polite fiction entered it as a new play, and so it was so far as the new scenes were con- cerned. Nash, writing in 1592, gives his testimony as to the popularity of the drama, especially the new added Talbot scenes. He says, — ‘‘ How^ w’ould it have joyed brave Talbot (the terror of the French) to think that after he had laid two hundred years in his tomb, he should triumph again on the stage, and have his bones new em- balmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least, (at several times) who, in the tragedian that represents his person, imagine they behold him fresh bleeding.” (Pierce Penniless, j), 60, ed. Shak. See. 1842). The Talbot INTRODUCTION. Ixxi scenes are the cream of the play, and show the advance Shakespeare had made between 1588 and 1592. It is a peculiar feature of these scenes that rhyme is freely used ; that Shakespeare should have temporally returned to the antiquated style of his earl}^ contemporaries is singular, but it is no doubt one pf those peculiar phases in the evolution qf a great genius which is not capable of explanation, This excessive use of rhyme confirms me in my opinion that the Talbot scenes were a later addition to the play : see my remarks below upon the blank verse and rhyming periods. That Shakespeare was the author of the entire play I think there can be no doubt ; the style, thought, ex- pression, phraseology, so far as those idiosyncrasies of composition were likely to be exhibited in an early work, appear to be entirely in his manner. The great mistake is that this drama has been compared with his master- pieces and judged accordingly, instead of being placed beside those of his plays wl^i^^li ure known to be among his earliest efforts. I do not claim a high scale of merit for the play, I admit it has faults, and some parts are of a very indifferent nature, biit r^inembering the early period at which it was written and judging by the state of the historical drama at the time, it is assuredly not unworthy of Shakespeare as a beginner, Who except Shakespeare could have written the scene in the Tower, n. 5, or the scene in the Parliament House, iii. 1, which are redolent with his expressive phraseology, his energy and, as yet, unexpanded power ? There is, moreover, a unity of character and action between it and the Con^ tention and True Tragedy which emphasises Dr. Johnson’s kxii tilE contention and teue teagedy. remark on 2 and 3 Henry VI., that those plays were not written without a dependence on the First Part. Among modern English Shakespeare scholars who have advo- cated a Shakespearean authorship of 1 Henry VI. stand Charles Knight and Halliwell-Phillipps, so that the coarse remark that no educated Englishman believes Shakespeare wrote the play, must be taken cum grano, I will now draw this long intercalatory section to a close by producing a few passages parallel in thought and expression between 1 Henry VI. and some of Shake- speare’s plays. — ‘ Glos. Out, scarlet hypocrite !’ 1 Hen. VI. i. 3. ‘ Surry. Thy ambition, thou scarlet sin,’ etc. Hen. Vlll. iii. 2. ‘ Tal. Thou antic, death, which laugh’st us here to scorn.’ 1 Hen. VI. iv,7 ‘ K. Rich. Within the hollow crown, That rounds the temples of a king^, Death keeps his court, and there the antic sits Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp.’ Rich. II. iii. 2. ‘ Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.’ 1 Hen VI. ii. 1. ‘ The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard.’ 0th. ii. 1 ‘ We must return to the court of guard.* Ant. ct* Cleo. iv, 9. ‘ Mor. Like lamps whose wasted oil is spent.’ 1 Hen. VI. ii. 5. ‘ Gaunt. My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted night.’ Rich. II. i. 3 . ‘ Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ? Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? Plan. Ay, sharp and pricking . . . Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.’ 1 Hen. VI. ii. 4. ‘ Val. The most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow.’ Two Gent, of Ver. i. 1. * Tal. How are we packed and bounded in a pale.* 1 Hen. VI. iv. 2. ‘ Why should we in compass of a pale ?’ Rich. 11. iii. 4. ‘ Tal. Then follow thy desperate sire of Crete, Thou Icarus !’ 1 Hen. VI. iv. 6. ‘ Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, . . . K. Hen. I, Dsedalus, my poor boy Icarus.’ 3 Hen. Fi, v. 6. mtltODUCTIO^. Ixxiii ‘ Suf, She 's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed ; She is a woman, therefore to be won.’ 1 He7i. VI. v. 3. ‘ Rick. Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?’ Rich. III. i. 2. • She is a woman, therefore may be won.* Tit. And. ii. I, • Glos. Thou art a pernicious usurer. Forward by nature, enemy to peace ; Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems A man of thy profession and thy degree.’ 1 Hen. VI. iii. 1. • Sal. Oft have I seen this haughty cardinal Swear and forswear himself, and brave it out , More like a ruffian than a man of church.’ Con. i. 1. Malone considered the absence of Shakspeareanisms in 1 Henry VI. a proof that the play was not Shakespeare’s. What are these but Shakespeareanisms ? more could be given, but this Introduction is already overloaded with quotation, I admit they are not decisive, but in a case where there is a doubt I submit they are of some value, and taken with the other evidence already offered help to make a strong case in Shakespeare’s favour, J have said above that in my opinion Shakespeare was the author of the Contention and True Tragedy, and that they are imperfect reports, surreptitiously obtained, of the first sketches of his 2 and 3 Henry VI. When I say surreptitiously obtained, I mean that the copy was ac- quired by other means than from the author’s MS. The piratical practice was by no means uncommon at the time, and a successful play was more liable to be stolen than an unsuccessful one. The mode of procedure was this. An unscrupulous publisher — Barabbas"^ Millington to wit — employed a shorthand writer to attend the theatre and take down the play, or such of it as he could, during * “ Now, Bar^bbas was a publisher.” Byron. Ixxi V TilE CONTENTION A ND TE TIE TE A GEL Y. representation ; when the action and dialogue was brisk, that was a difficult and not always successful operation, so that the copyist was obliged to content himself with suck short rough notes as he could take, which were afterwards botched up by himself or some literary hack into something approaching the play as it was given on the stage. This system necessitated many successive attendances at the theatre, and in some instances the actors were approached for the purpose of perfecting the copy ; in the present case I should hardly think that ex- pense was incurred, for the text is far too corrupt. By this means, I conceive, the text of what Millington called the Contention and True Tragedy was obtained ; that such was the case I think easy of proof, but I may say that all the corruption, or Vv hat seems to us corruption, in the old copies was not due to Millington’s botcher. As proof in support of my hypothesis, I submit the following pro- positions. — 1. Words and lines, necessary to the sense, left out. 2. Words and lines misplaced. 3. Metre mis- arranged. 4. Gaps, where the. shorthand writer lost or misheard the words spoken, filled in by a person other than the author of the plays. 5. Different versions df the same passage given in the different editions, 6. Latin scraps omitted. 7. Lines and scenes transposed. I will deal with these propositions in their regular order, and produce instances in support, and offer such remarks on them as may seem necessary. 1 . Omissions. These may be divided into three classes, a. Words and lines left out necessary to the sense, h. Words dropped, whose omission may be due to the scribe or compositor, c. Lines and passages in F. but not in Q., whose omission in Q. INTRODUCTION. Ixxv may be due to shortening the original version for pur- poses of stage representation. a. Lines left out necessary to the sense, — i. 1, of the Contention opens thus Eln. Why droops my lord like over ripened corn. Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load ? What see’st thou, Duke Humphrey ? King Henry’s crown ? Reach at it : and if thine arms be too short, Mine shall lengthen it. Art not thou a prince, Uncle to the King, and his Protector ^ Tlien what shouldst thou lack that might content thy mind ?*’ The speech is given thus, in F. — - c Duch. Why droops my lord like over-ripened corn. Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load ? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world? V^hy are thine eyes fixed on the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight ? What see’st thou there? King Henry’s diadem, Enchased with all the honours of the world ? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, Until thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand ; reach at the glorious gold. — What, is ’t too short ? I’ll lengthen it with mine ; And, having both together heaved it up, We’ll both together lift our heads to heaven.” If these two passages be compared, it will at once be self evident that here is not a case of a poet revising or altering another man’s work, but a botched and tinkered version of the original. The shorthand writer correctly reported the first two lines, but while these were being taken down four other lines had been spoken which he did not catch, therefore he left them out ; yet those four lines are absolutely necessary to the sense and connection of what follows. Then he catches the words, ** What see’st thou ?” etc., and while the same process is going Ixxvi TUB COB TENT TON AND TETJE TEAGEEY. On he loses thfee lines mol’e^ and contiiiires the last line he had taken by Seaoh at it'^ etc., the sense of what had been spoken, rather than the words. Towards the close of the speech he becomes thorongldy muddled, and extricates himself from tlie diilh.iiit’y by writing down sheer nonsense. To me this is convincing proof that these two plays are not origiiial compositions, but garbled shorthand versions of 2 and 3 Hemy VI. Many similar instances could be prodnced, but one is sufficient to illustrate my argument ; otlicrs will be found in the notes to the text, or the reader with trie two versions of the plays in hand may readily pick out many more. h. Words whose omission may due to the scribe or compositor.— In the Contention the following line reads — ' “ And bid me advised how I tread.” F. reads “ And bid me be advised how I tread.’* c. Lines in F. but not in Q., whose omission in Q, may be due to shortening the original version for stage representation, — Parts 2 and 3 Henry YJ. have, respec- tively, 3032, 2904 lines (Fleay’s numbenng). It is hardly reasonable to suppose, even in Shakespeare’s time, that those two jdays would be given on the stage in their entirety. A theatrical audience demands action ; which a dramatist with a knowdedge of bis craft invariably gives them : however intellectual an audience may be, it does not care to sit and listen to a long monologue al- though it be composed of the finest poetry that was ever written. In our own time we know how plays, even Shakespeare’s, are cut down and curtailed for theatric^ INTRODUCTION. Ixxvii representation ; the same practice no doubt prevailed in the sixteenth century. Tlierefore such lines and passages in speeches which do not actually bear upon the action of the drama, would be excised to bring it within the neces- sary length. No doubt 2 and 3 Henry VI, underwent this operation, and I submit that the Contention and True Tragedy are botched and pirated editions of the stage version of those two plays ; they contain, respectively, 1993 and 2065 lines, about the average length for the acting version of a stage play. This will explain the absence of much matter from the Contention and True Tragedy which is given in full in the Folio version of 2 and 3 Henry VI. An instance, not solitary, may be found in York’s Anjou and Maine” speech in the Contention, i. 1 . In the Folio the speech has 46 lines, a rather long strain on the attention of an audience ; in the Q’s, it is cut down to 24 lines. The first 22 lines of the F. version are not of much importance so far as the action of the play is concerned, therefore it did not appear in the stage version, and for that reason could not be given by Mil- lington’s botcher. Tlie line, “ Anjou and Maine, both given to the French,” occurs twice in the Folio play, and commences the speech in the quarto ; the repetition in F. I am unable to explain, but I cannot think it was due to a second writer who took the two old plays and en- larged them by interpolation into 2 and 3 Henry VI., which is the view’ taken of the matter by some critics. However, I do not think the pirate-botcher should be charged with all the omissions and interpolations with which these two plan's are corrupted. For instance, words and lines in F. but not in Q., may have been the / Ixxviii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. result of excision or addition on revisal ; on the other liand, some lines and passages in Q. and not in F. may he interpolations by the players who frequently spoke more than was set down for them. Many of our old plays are, in parts, spurious with the extemporaneous nonsense foisted in by the actors, and if we may believe Hamlet’s directions to the players, Shakespeare had suffered an- noyance from their vulgar license ; such may have been the case with these two dramas, especially the Cade scenes, where, in some instances {Con. iv. 7), they differ BO materially from F. Again, some scenes are given so correctly that there is little difference, worthy of mention, between Q. and F. 2. Words and lines misplaced. — In the Trwe Tragedy, p. 176, there is a speech by Warwick which reads thus : “ What is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And live we how we can, yet die we must. Sweet rest his soul ! — Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.” To the shallowest observer it must be clear that the rhyming couplet at the commencement of the speech is out of place, and that it has not the remotest connection with what follows. It is also clear that it could not have been placed in its incongruous position by the author of the play, but that it had been so located by some ignora- mus who had heard the words spoken and had written them down but afterwards became muddled in his notes, and being either too ignorant or too lazy to seek for their proper place, inserted them in what he thought the most convenient place ; very possibly he imagined the mo- ralising in them appropriate to Warwick’s last speech, INIRODUCTION, ixxix thereby furnishing the best evidence as to the means by which the text of the play was acquired. C>n turning to the Folio we find tilings very different ; there we meet with the same couplet in its proper place, in fact in the only place in which it can stand if it is to bear any sort of connection witli the context. There it is to be found at the end of Warwick’s soliloquy, Ah, who is nigh ?” 3 Henry VI. v. 2, which is its right place, and where it assuredly was ] laced by the author of the play, and where it was spoken by the actor on the stage. o. Metre wrongly arranged. — In many parts of these plays, but more especially in the Contention, verse is often found printed as prose and prose arranged as verse ; from tliis circumstance nothing conclusive can be drawn, for it was a common practice at the time and is frequently met with in old plays. On the other hand there are pas- sages which are in verse and so printed, but which have suffered, at the hands of some one, a wrong metrical arrangement, as well as being in some places corruptly given. Here is an instance from the True Tragedy, v. 4, towards the end of the scene. — “ Women and children of so hig-h resolve, And warriors faint ! why, 'twere perpetual Shame. Oh brave young prince, thy Noble grandfather doth live again in thee : Long mayst thou live to bear his image, And to renew’ his glories.” That is how it is printed in the old copy, and the met- rical misarrangement is wretched in the extreme. The speech is written in the usual five feet iambic measure, and if it be properly arranged, as the dramatist no doubt wrote it, it stands thus : — Ixxx THE COETEMION JND TEUE TEAOEBY. “ Women and children of so high resolve, And warriors faint ! why, ’twere pcrpetiiHl shame. — Oh, brave young pt ince ! thy iiohle grandfather Doth live again in thee : long mayst thou live To bear his image, and to renew his glories.” Now, if this bo cornparod with the corresponding speech in the Folio play, it will be found that it exactly tallies with it in metrical arrangement, and is, with the except- tion of one corruption and one interpolation (italicised), a verbatim report of that speech. Why or how this misarrangement occurred is hej^ond my power of expla- nation ; it may have been due to the crass ignorance of the botcher, or it may have been part of the knavish scheme of Barabbas -Millington. Many such passages where the verse is wrongly arranged could be pointed out, but I limit myself to one instance. 4. Gaps, where the shorthand writer lost or misheard the words spoken, filled in by a person other than the author of the plays. — In the True Tragedy , ii. 3, an ac- count is given of the death of Salisbury ; this is common to both versions, but the description in the True Tragedy differs widely from that in 3 Henry VI. Here is the passage ; — “ Rick. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself ? Thy noble father in the thickest throngs. Cried still for Warwick, bis thrice valiant son, Until with thousand swords be was beset. And many wounds made in bis agM breast, And as he tott’ring sat upon bis steed, He waft his hand to me and cried aloud, ‘ Richard, commend me to my valiant son !’ And still hie cried, * Warwick, revenge my death !’ And with those words he tumbled off his horse, And so the noble Salisbury gave up the ghost. ** Compare this with the following speech from the Folio : INTRODUCTION. Ixxxi Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself ? Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath drunk. Broached -with the steelj' point of Clifford's lance ; And in the very pangs of death he cried. Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, ‘ Warwick, revenge ! brother, revenge my death !' So, underneath the belly of their steeds That stained their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.” In both passages the sense is much about the same, but the method of conveying it is totally different. This diff'erence, I think, is not such as would occur from one author elaborating another man’s work, or from an author revising one of his own early works ; it is rather such as would arise from rough notes taken during re- presentation ; we see that the scribe took down correctly the opening line of the speech, then his chief anxiety was to note the sense of what was being spoken, which at leisure he filled in from memory or out of his own head, adding, with his usual spasmodic verbosity, two extra lines to the speech. Also compare the sentence on the Duchess of Gloster, in the Corderdioriy ii. 3, and 2 Henry VI. ii. 3. 5. Different versions of the same passage given in the different editions. — In some places the dift'erence between eds. 1594, 1595, 1600, 1619, is very striking. Take as an instance the relation of Duke Humphrey’s dream, (Contention, i. 2), given on p. vi of this Introduction. Here we find Q. 1619 differs materially from Q’s. 1594, and 1600. It will he clear to the most casual observer that these variations are not the result of emend3,tion in the ordinary sense of the word ; and it is remarkable that the successive editions, especially Q. 1619, make a nearer approach to the version as contained in F. 1623. / Ixxxii THE CONtENTtON AND TRUE TRAGEDY. To my mind, this gradual advance towarcU a more per- fect text tells its own story. It seems as if the possessors of the copyright, Millington and afterwards Pavier, con- scious that their text was very corrupt, were determined so far as they could to obtain the correct version of the plays. The same method was resorted to as in the case of the first copy ; when the plays were revived, as no doubt they frequently were, a shorthand writer attended the theatre, and by paying attention to those scenes which had been corruptly given in the previous edition was thus enabled to correct many errors and issue a text nearer to the original version than had hitherto been done. In some places Q. 1619 differs from the other quartos as well as from P, and has a reading peculiarly its own ; where such differences occur I take them to be the inde^ pendent composition of the person employed to furnish the copy. I can hardly think that the actors at any time were approached or their help solicited ; had such been the case there would have been, from the first, a purer text. This appears to me to be the only solution that will reconcile the numerous variations of the same pas- sages in the different editions ; its chief recommendation is that it is not at variance with the evidence on the point, Other instances in support of No, 5 will be found in the notes, but I may mention the most important of them : the pedigree speech in the Contention, ii. 2, Q. 1594, and 1619, as being, in connection with the above hypothesis, worthy of the reader’s investigation. 6. Latin scraps omitted. — A noticeable feature of these plays is that the Latin lines and scraps, which are given in 2 and 3 Henry VI., are with one or two except INTliOD tiCTION. ixxxiii tions left out. Now, if these dramas were written by Greene and Marlowe as some people would have us be- lieve, how is their absence here and presence in 2 and 3 Henry VI. to be accounted for ? Greene and Marlowe were both excellent Latin scholars. Does not their ab- sence plainly indicate what I have been striving to show, that the text of the plays was taken down in shorthand during representation and not from the author^s MS. ? The poetico-botcher, as one may easily perceive, was not a Latinist and therefore wisely omitted what he could not take down or understand : instances of self-convicted bungling were already numerous enough without being multiplied. 7. Lines and scenes transposed. — Before entering on the discussion of this proposition I may remark that I believe F. 1623 to be the correct version in point of suc- cession of words, lines, and scenes, as it is on all other points, here is an instance from the Contention^ hi. 1, of some curious transpositions : — “ Suffolk’s hateful tongue blabs his heart’s malice, Beaufort’s fiery eyes show his envious mind, Buckingham’s proud looks bewray his cruel thoughts.” F. reads : — “ Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart’s malice, And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate ; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue. The envious load that lies upon his heart.” Other transpositions, indicated in the notes, occur in the Cade scenes, and in the True Tragedy some scenes are entirely reversed ; thus, v. 4 of Q. is v. 5 of F. ; v. 5 is V. 4 of F. ; v. 6, is v. 7 of F. ; and v. 7, is v. 6 of F. / Ixxiiv THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. If these scenes be attentively read it will become clear that the arrangement in Q. is wrong and that in F. right. This mistake can only be explained by supposing that the botcher allowed his notes to get muddled and did not trouble himself about ascertaining the proper sequence of the lines and scenes he transplanted. Before leaving this branch of the subject I may mention that the Folio does not always give the right reading, for in a few in- stances editors have had to go to the quartos to correct the errors ; they are chiefly verbal and may be put down as clerical or compositor’s mistakes. This evidence proves that these two plays are not original productions of some unknown playwright, but that they are imperfect re- ports of the stage versions of 2 and 3 Henry FJ., taken down during representation, and where the shorthand writer’s notes were confused or insuflicient, the lacunae were filled in by some botcher in the service of Millington or Pavier. This view of the matter seems so reasonable, and is so well supported by evidence and common-sense, that the obstinacy displayed by some critics in clinging to the antiquated notion that the Contention and True Tragedy are the plays on which 2 and 3 Henry VI. were founded, is really astonishing. The claims of Greene and Marlowe to the authorship of these plays have been dealt with and, I think, satis- factorily disproved ; the remaining claimant is Shake- speare, to whom I have ascribed them, and such evidence and remarks as can be advanced in his favour must now be given. This evidence arranges itself under two heads, viz., — 1. External; 2. Internal. 1. External. — That Shakespeare was known as the IN T BOD UCTION. Ixxxv author of the plays in 1592, and probably earlier, is proved by Grreene’s pamphlet ; read in any other light, his abuse of the ‘^Shakescene” becomes meaningless and loses its point. When Millington published his corrupt and pirated editions, beyond doubt he well knew who was the author, but withheld it from the title-page from motives of safety, pecuniary or personal or perhaps both. Had Greene and Marlowe been the authors, Millington’s fear would have vanished ; there would have been no danger in placing their names on the title-page, for both of them had been dead some months — Greene 19 and Marlowe 11 — when Q. i was published in 1594 ; besides, Greene and Marlowe’s names at that time being popular would have been more likely to have secured a readier sale than Shakespeare’s, for the latter had then pub- lished nothing under his own name. Millington however knew better, and if that piece of roguery ever entered his head he did not act upon it ; but he was well aware the real author, Shakespeare, was alive, and therefore sent the plays forth anonymously, and did the same again in 1600. In 1602 Pavier acquired the copyright of both plays but there was no issue until seventeen years after. In 1619 he published The Whole Contention, dc., newly corrected and enlarged,” and boldly affixed “by William Shakespeare” to the title ; Shakespeare had then been dead three years, so that the fear which held Millington back had disappeared and Pavier was at liberty to fix the real author’s name to them, although there was dis- honesty in the action knowing that the text was corrupt and surreptitiously obtained ; that he possessed that knowledge is proved by the fact of his withholding the ixxxvi THB CONTENTION AND TRUE TRACEDY. issue until 1619. The communication that Shakespeare was the author I suppose Pavier to have received from Millington. This 1619 publication is the first direct as- cription to Shakespeare. If, as I have endeavoured to show, the Contention and True Tragedy are imperfect copies of 2 and 3 Henry VI,, that circumstance taken in conjunction with the fact that Heminge and Condell included the two latter plays in their collection of ^‘Mr. William Shakespeare’s Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies” published in 1623, becomes an important piece of evidence in support of a Shake- spearean authorship, and I do not see how they can be logically withheld from him after such testimony. The fact that Meres does not mention the plays in his list of 1598 really proves nothing either way: my reasons for the opinion have been given above, p. Ixvi. Henslow^e, however, in 1592 does mention a play under the title of Henry VI,, and it has hot been satisfactorily disproved that it was not the play now knowm as the First Part of Henry VI, of w’hich these plays form the middle and conclusion of the series. When the plays were entered at Stationers’ Hall neither Shakespeare’s nor any other name w^as put to them ; the reason of that must be obvious to any reader who has gone thus far through this Introduction. It was not an uncommon proceeding to enter a play without the author’s name, and if I mis- take not, some of Shakespeare’s genuine dramas were entered without his name ; e,g, Richard II,, Richard III,, Henry IV., A Midsummer NighVs Bream, and others, so the objection that these plays are not his because they were not entered with his name becomes worthless. INTRODUCTION^ Ixxxvii Anothel* objection urged against Shakespeare is that the True Tragedy was acted by Pembroke’s players, whereas none of his acknowledged plays were presented by that company. The fact is, our knowledge of early stage history is so meagre that it cannot be said with any cer- tainty which companies did or did not act his plays in the early part of his career ; it is nearly certain that he wrote for more than one company. Pembroke’s men did play Titus Andronicus at the Curtain theatre, and that tragedy has come down attested as Shakespeare’s by Meres, and Heminge and Condell. If Shakespeare wrote one play for Pembroke’s men, why should he not write another for them ? The fact that the two plays were acted by Pembroke’s men rather pleads in favour of Shakespeare having been a writer for, and a member of that company. See my remarks on the subject, ante, p. Ixix. 2. Internal evidence. — Spurious as many parts of these plays are with the dross and ribald interpolations of the pirate-botcher, they are not so corrupted but that much of the virgin ore remains behind by which their real author can be detected. The internal evidence seems to me so pointed, and so decidedly in favour of Shakespeare being the author, that it seems supererogatory to argue the matter formally and at length. If any particular point be examined, no matter whether it be construction, thought, expression, phraseology, metre or characterisa- tion, it will be found essentially Shakespearean in its character. Who but Shakespeare could have written the scene, Contention, hi, 2, where Duke Humphrey is mur- dered; the death of Cardinal Beaufort, hi. 3 ; the scene between the Duke of York and Queen Margaret, Tru^ Ixxxviii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, Tragedy f i. 4 ; Clifford’s speech, ib. ii. 2 ; Gloster’s speech, Ay, Edward will use woman honourably,” ih. hi. 2; or his cruel, bitter speech after the murder of King Henry in the Tower, ih, v. 6 ? Not all the genius of Marlowe, Greene, Peele, Lodge, singly or combined, could have produced scenes like those ; scenes wherein the dramatic element throbs and pulsates with the healthy vigour of natural life ; scenes then unexampled in profundity of thought, or felicity of expression. If these scenes be, as assuredly they are, above the power and beyond the scope of Greene and Marlowe, why should they be denied the only dramatist capable of writing them ? I await, I fear in vain, for them to be paralleled from the works of any dramatist except Shakespeare. Let the reader compare the scene in the True Tragedy ^ i. 3, where young Butland is killed by Clifford, and a somewhat analogous scene, that between Prince Arthur and Hubert, in Kmg John, and then ask himself whether the mind and hand which conceived and wrote the one, was not the same as tliat which conceived and wrote the other. Can we imagine any other dramatist but Shakespeare having the spirit or patience to pen those beautiful lines commencing ^^Tis beauty oft makes women proud,” spoken by York in i. 4 of the True Tragedy, so pregnant in depth of thought, so felicitous in their beauty of expression ? Could Marlowe have written such lines ? Great as he was, and at the time unquestionably Shakespeare’s peer in some things, I much doubt whether he had the divine afflatus to carry him to such a height. The scenes in which Cade and his Socialist companions appear are, with their realism, incisive dialogue and salient characterisation, one of the INTRODUCTION. Ixxxlx most striking features of the First Part. Who is respon- sible for them ? An attempt has been made to fix them on Greene, but the attempt has miserably failed ; there is something in them as much beyond his scope, as are the tragic scenes above the range of Marlowe. To my mind Shakespeare stands confessed their author. The permanent nature of the characters, the living em- bodiment of certain types of human nature infused into them, make them as real and as lifelike to-day as they were three centuries ago, and present to us the vital semblance of much that surrounds us at the present time. Who but a great and universal genius, born to immortality, could have given this permanence, this un- conditional immortality, to the puppets of his brain ? I am aware of nothing in our literature that comes with- in measurable competition with these scenes and the characters in them. The nearest approach to them that I can call to mind, is to be found in an old play printed in 1594, called The Life and Death of Jack Straw ; it was published anonymously ; I have not studied it enough to form an opinion on the authorship, but Mr. Fleay attri- butes it to Peele. The play deals with Jack Straw, Wat Tyler, John Ball and other early revolutionists of the anarchist type ; the characters and scenes bear some re- semblance to the Cade scenes in the Contention, but the realism, characterisation, and humour is of a much lower order. I take the Contention to be the earlier work, and whatever similitude the rebel scenes in Jack Straw bear to the Cade scenes, is no doubt the result of imitation, not originality. If these plays be studied and compared with'Shake- xc THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. speare’s, especially the histories, many points of resem- blance in method of work, style, phraseology, etc., will be found between them. 1. Construction, and conduct of the action. a. Construction.— In point of construction there is a close analogy between these dramas and some of Shake- speare’s ; e.g. Bicliard 111., King Jo/h.*, and Bicliard II., the plays that come nearest to them in question of time and order of composition. Here a similar method is used, and a similar means to an end. If in his latest specimen of the historical drama, Henry VIII., this method is not so distinct and so easily traceable, the discrepancy may be accounted for on the hypothesis (maintained by many critics) that the play, as we now have it, is not entirely his composition. h. Conduct of the action or plot. — Here again we are confronted by many points of similarity. One of Shake- speare’s pet idiosyncrasies was the alternate mingling of serious and comic scenes in a single play — a fault rather honoured in the observance than the breach. It is found in both parts of Henry IV., and in Henry V. ; even in so sublime a tragic effort as King Lear, this comic business shows itself ; but by the consummate skill of the great master it is always ke^^t subordinate to the tragic element and the requirements of dramatic art. This serious and comic business is found in close juxtaposition in the Contention, If some of these comic scenes, e.g. the Simj^- cox episode, seem to our modern notions on the subject, poor, tame, and unworthy of the author, all I can say, is that they could not have appeared so to him, and he undoubtedly was the best judge. Yet scenes not a whit INTRODUCTION, xci better may be found in some of Shakespeare’s dramas, e.g, those between Froth and Elbow in Measure for Measure, The fact is, Shakespeare was too good an artist to neglect the proper blending of light and shade, and in his work this toning process is never omitted. In the True Tragedy this comic element is not found, but its absence is not to be taken as evidence that Shakespeare was not the author. c. Similar situations. — There are many similar scenes and situations in these plays and Shakespeare’s. In the Contention, iii. 1, a charge is made by York against Duke Humphrey of having misappropriated the soldiers’ pay ; in Richard II. i. 1, a similar charge is made against Norfolk by Bolingbroke ; the words are not identical, but there is a close resemblance in the situation, the style, and the terms used. Indeed, the bickerings of the nobles and Duke Humphrey in the Contention bear more than a casual resemblance to the same thing in Richard II, and other historical plays by Shakespeare. Several could be pointed out but there is no occasion to multiply instances ; the Shakespearean student will readily recog- nise them. d. The use of narration in these plays similar to that found in Shakespeare’s plays. — The epic or descriptive element Shakespeare nearly always held subordinate to the dramatic element ; he preferred to work out the evolution of the plot by the action ; yet occasionally, as we find in his plays, he allowed the action to be sus- pended for a moment while some event, which was not acted, was described by the actor to the audience. That may be termed the narrative or epic element. Examples xcii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. may be found in Richard IJ., Bolingbroke’s entry into London, in Richard III. i. 4, King John, v. 7, Henry V., and Henry VIII. In the Contention ii. 2, iii. 1, the same thing is found, and it occurs in the True Tragedy, ii. 5, and iii. 2. This use of narration is peculiar, and there is a similarity in the situations which to my mind proves a consanguinity of authorship between these dramas and those mentioned above. This subordination of the narra- tive or epic element is eminently Shakespearean in its broad principles, and is a weighty argument in support of the hypothesis that he was sole author of these plays. It is the exception to find a drama written before 1590 which does not expound its plot either epically or by means of dumb-show or chorus. This mode of evolution was used by Kyd, Peele, Greene, and the other elder dramatists; even Marlowe, with all his boldness of inno- vation, was not quite free from it. Here, however, we find a series of plays, written before the above mentioned date, wherein that antiquated custom is boldly flung aside and the evolution of the plot is carried forward naturally and smoothly by the dialogue and action of the piece. That was Shakespeare’s method ; the fact that the same method is employed in the Contention and True Tragedy, affords strong presumptive evidence that he was the author of them. 2. Exposition of the characters. — This is carried out on lines similar to the evolution of the plot ; that is, the motives and aims of the characters are developed out of their actions. To me this furnishes additional proof of a Shakespearean origin. In these plays the characters are natural and human — men and women as theiy appear INTRODUCTION. xciii on the stage of life ; not mere puppets, interpreted by the actors, like the characters in the stilted plays of the time. Their development comes gradually and naturally from within, not by means of description by another actor ; each one unfolds himself by his own words and actions and the events of the drama. Is not tliis the case with Margaret, Henry, Clifford, Warwick, York, Cade, Edward, and Eichard? An example of this development of character out of circumstances, may be found in the True Tragedy, ii. 1. A Messenger enters to Edward and Eichard with the news that the Duke of York has been butchered by Queen Margaret ; the different manner in which they each receive the news of their father’s death, is worth noting. Edward gives vent to his sorrow by a passionate outburst of weeping ; not so Eichard ; the stern, cruel, iron nature of the man asserts itself and his sorrow can only find an outlet by bitter words and vows of revenge ; he exclains : — “ I cannot weep, for all my breast’s moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart.” Here is a development of character out of circumstances which discloses a craft in delineation worthy of a more than ordinary hand ; a page of description could not have accomplished what is here done by a few words and a few actions. That is the fundamental note in aU Shake- speare’s characters, and its distinctly emphasised pre- sence in these play convinces me that he, and he alone, was the author of them. 3. The moral rectitude and aesthetic justice in these plays like Shakespeare’s. — Another of Shakespeare’s characteristics is his moral rectitude and love of justice. xciv THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. This is conspicuous throughout his plays ; in no single instance does he allow vice to permanently triumph over virtue ; for a time vice may be rampant and the vindi- cation pf justice delayed, but none knew better than he that in the end virtue would win a spotless victory for right’s sake, and no man ever expounded the doctrine so nobly or so effectually as did he. This morality and spirit of aesthetic rectitude runs like a golden thread through these two plays. It may be seen in the poetical justice dealt out to Suffolk for his guilty intrigue with Queen Margaret, in Cardinal Beaufort’s terrible death, and in the fate of York, Clifford, and Warwick ; in one instance, that of Richard, it is deferred, but Nemesis dogs his heels and in the connecting link, Richard III., justice is sternly dealt out to him. This fact alone, shows a singularity of authorship in this series of historical plays. King Henry is an exception to the rule, but the dramatist was shackled by considerations of historical accuracy. Nothing of this severe code of moral rectitude is found in the dramas of Greene, Peele, or Marlowe ; it is in every page of Shakespeare. 4. Verbal resemblances. — In a note to the text I have drawn attention to the frequent use of the phrase ^Geave to speak.” This expression is used seven times by Shakespeare, but I have not discovered it once in Greene or Marlowe. The verb ‘Gime” i.e, to besmear with bird- lime, or to catch with it, occurs in these plays four times and is used four times by Shakespeare, but not once by Marlowe or Greene ; Kyd occasionally uses the expres- sion. The verb ‘‘downright” occurs three times in these plays ; Shakepeare uses the word eight times ; Greene INTRODUCTION. xcv or Marlowe not once. Other similarites of verbal expres- sion could be pointed out were it necessary. Perhaps there is not much weight to be attached to the use or neglect of single words ; nevertheless in discussing a question of doubtful authorship I submit it is evidence of some value, and the cumulation of such evidence be- comes worthy of serious consideration. 5. Forms of thought and imagery. — The image called forth by the maternal instinct in the lower animal creation of protecting their young from danger, occurs several times in the True Tragedy, viz., i. 4, ii. 2, his. Shake- speare seeems to have been remarkably fond of this image and used it with rare skill and beauty of effect ; examples may be found in Antony & Cleopatra, iii. 2, Macbeth, iv, 2, and other of his plays. The image, founded on tradi- tion, of the eagle holding up its brood to the sun to see whether they be genuine or not, is found in the True Tragedy, and in Shakespeare. Again, the following image in the True Tragedy, i. 4, — “ My ashes, like the phcenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge it on you all.” occurs in 1 Henry VI. iv. 7, and in Henry VIII. v. 4. 6. Yersification.— It is a matter of some difficulty to deal with the metre of these piays owing to the botched and corrupt condition in which the text has come down to us, therefore the application of the usual metrical tests is not so satisfactory as could be wished ; yet such de-* ductions as can be drawn are, I think, upon the whole rather favourable to a Shakespearean authorship. Before entering on a metrical analysis, and for convenience of reference, I append a Metrical Table of the Contention xcvi THM CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY, and True Tragedy, 2 and 3 Henry VI., and Titus Androni- cus ; the figures for the last three plays are quoted from Mr. Fleay’s Metrical Table in the New Shakespeare Society’s Transactions, 1874, p. 16, Play. Total lines. Blank. Prose. Ehyme. Stopped Unstoppd Contention. 1993 1371 582 40 1317 87 Teue Teag. 2065 2003 7 55 1792 156 2 Heney VI. 3032 2562 448 122 3 Heney vi. 2904 2749 — 1 55 Tit. And. 2525 2338 43 144 The first thing that strikes one on comparing these figures is the difference in the total number of lines in the two parallel plays; thus, — the Content ion has 1993 lines, and its parent, or offspring as some people say, 2 Henry VI, has 3032 lines, a difference in favour of the latter of 1039 lines; the True Tragedy has 2065 lines, and 3 Henry VI. 2904 lines, a difference of 839 lines. The two parts of Henry VI. are very long, and it is not at ail likely they would be acted in their entirety ; therefore they would have to be cut down to bring them within the necessary length for stage representation. The average length of a stage version of a five act play is from 1700 to 2000 lines, sometimes it is less, but rarely more. The difference in length between the Contention and True Tragedy and the corresponding parts of Henry VI. is, as I have already said, a proof that they were not taken from the author’s copy, but that they are garbled copies of the stage version of the two latter plays taken down in shorthand during the action. At the same time I do not suppose that all the variations between the two sets INTRODUCTION. xcvii of plays are due to Millington’s or Pavier’s poet-botch er. Some of them may be, and I have no doubt are, the result of addition or subtraction on a later revision. This disproportion is noticeable in each division throughout the plays, and the reasons given above may, to a large extent, account for it. Thus, there is a difference of over 1000 lines between the blank verse of the Contention and and 2 Henry FI., and 700 lines between the True Tragedy and 3 Henry VI. The amount of prose in the Contention, 582 lines, compared with the 448 lines of 2 Henry VI., is singular, indeed more so when taken in conjunction with the corresponding figures in the sceond column of the Table ; the excess is probably due to the botcher, who in many instances took down blank verse as prose, and marred it in the process ; signs of corru2)tion are not wanting in much of the prose of the Contention. For some inexplicable reason more care appears to have been taken with the True Tragedy, which has only 7 prose lines to 0 of 3 Henry VI. So far as a conclusion can be drawn from such evidence, these prose and blank verse figures are rather favourable to a Shakespearean author- ship. In Shakespeare’s early comedies, those written before 1590-2, is found a nearly similar proportion of the two ingredients. Love's Labour's Lost, with 1086 prose lines and 579 blank verse lines, being the exception. The early tragedy, Titus Androyiicus, comes near the True Tragedy with 2338 blank, and 43 prose lines. The most puzzling item in the Table is the rhyme, and it is a diffi- cult matter to satisfactorily explain the small proportion in these plays when compared with some of Shakespeare’s early plays, or even with the Second and Third parts of 9 xcviii THE CONTENTION AND TEUE TEAGEDY. Henry VI, Most of Shakespeare’s early luidispiited plays abound in rhyme ; for instance, Lore's J.ahour's Lost with 579 verse lines has 1028 rhymed lines ; the Comedy of Errors has 1150 verse lines and 380 rhymed lines; A Midsummer Night's Dream has 878 verse lines and 731 rhymed lines ; while the Two Gentlemen of Verona, one of the earliest of his comedies, with 1510 verso lines, has only 160 rhymed lines. These figures placed beside those in the same column of the Contevdion and True Tragedy. or even 2 and 3 Henry VI., seem to point, if the rhyme test have any value, to the conclusion that Shakespeare could have had no hand either in the quarto or folio versions of the plays. However this contradiction on examination does not carry much weight with it. It is to be remembered that the earliest recognised allusion to Shakespeare speaks of him as a writer who supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you,” which means, if the words have a meaning, that he wrote blank verse and was not a rhymer. This leads to the question, — Whether Shakespeare commenced his literary career by adopting blank verse as the me- dium for his plays exclusive, or at least a sparing use, of rhyme? I think he did, and point to the early sketches of some of his plays as proof in confirmation. Thus, Borneo & Juliet in Q. 1597, has 1415 blank verse lines and 354 rhymes, the amended version in F. 1623 has 2111 blank and 486 rhymes; Hamlet, Q. 1603, has 1462 blank and 54 rhymes, F. 2491 blank and 81 rhymes; Henry V., Q. 1600, has 774 blank and 30 rhymes, F. 1678 blank and 101 rhymes. These early quartos stand in much about the same degree of relationship to the INTRODUCTION. XciX amended versions as do the Contention and True Tragedy to 2 and 3 Henry VI. ; the text of each jday may have been improperly obtained, and is no doubt spurious here and there, but there is enough genuine matter left in them to countenance the theory tliat Shakespeare did commence his literary career by adopting blank verse and indulging in a very sparse use of rhyme. The use of rhyme in Shakespeare’s plays is very singular ; it com- mences with the 40 rhjrnes in the Contention, gradually ascends till it reaches a maximum in Love's Labour's Lost with 1028, then more leisurely descends, and finishes with 0 in the Winter's Tale. Then, I say, this paucity of rhyme in the Contention and True Tragedy does not prove them to be wholly spurious as some critics have supposed, but is confirmatory of a Shakespearean authorship. That there was a non-rhyming period intervening between the excessive use of rhyme, as shown in the early plays, and its partial resumption a few years later, is proved by an old play. The Misfortunes of Arthur, printed in 1587, which has not a rhyme in it outside the Choruses ; that Shakespeare’s early dramatic career embraced a part of that period there can be no doubt. Is it, then, matter for surprise that his earliest plays show less rhyme than some written later, when the use of rhyme had been partially resumed ? Some estimable critics would have us think so. The disparity of rhyme in the Contention and True Tragedy and 2 and 3 Henry VI. is explicable on the above grounds and shows, I think, revision and addition at a later period. The application of other metrical tests such as the stopped, unstopped-line, and double-ending tests is not so satisfactory as could be wished, owing to THE COts^TENfiON AND flttJE TRA&EDY. fe the corrupt nature of the text ; but so far as I have been able to use them the result has been favourable to the argument here advanced, — viz., that the Contention and True Tragedy are imperfect and garbled reports of 2 and 3 Henry VI,, and that Shakespeare was the author of the latter plays. More importance than the subject warranted has been attached to an alteration of a speech by SuJffolk in the Contention, iv. 1 ; in Q. 1594 it reads thus : — “ Suf. This villain being but captain of a pinnace, Threatens more plagues than mighty Abrada^ The great Macedonian pirate,** In r. the speech is altered thus : — “ Suf. This villain here, Being but captain of a pinnace, threatens more Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.** ^^Abradas’’ occurs in one of Greene’s prose pamphlets and no where else, except in the Contention, therefore it is assumed that he wrote the scene in question. The change of Abradas to Bargulus in the Eolio has rather puzzled the commentators; they maintain the change was not made by Shakespeare, but by Greene who used the first name, but finding it little known afterwards substituted Bargulus because it was more popular ! Why should Greene be more likely to change a name than Shakespeare ? There is no known instance of Greene changing a name in any of his plays, but there is of Shakespeare doing so ; he changed Corambis, in Hamlet Q. 1603, to Polonius in Q. 1604. Shakespeare may have taken the name from Greene’s pamphlet (published in 1588, the same year as I conceive the Contention to have INTRODUCTION. ci been written), but afterwards changed it to Bargulus fo^ some reason not now discoverable. Mr. Halliwell- Phillipps thinks the alteration was made on account of the metre. The reason for the change is immaterial ; the matter is of no importance. An overwhelming proof of a singularity of authorship in these two plays is the numerous repetitions in them ; these consist not merely of words or compound phrases, but of whole lines : the majority of them will be found pointed out in the notes to the text. If these plays were the joint work of two or more dramatists, is it likely that one would happen upon the same thought as his fellow labourer and express it in identical words, or that he would copy a line or a sentence from his coadjutor’s work and embed it in his own ? An isolated case might occur, but here the thing happens frequently. Yet we are asked to believe that such was the case ; for various lines in parts ascribed to Greene are repeated verbatim in parts confidently given to Marlowe. To me these repetitions are emphatic proof that these plays were written by one man, and one man only. Authors do sometimes happen on the same thought, but seldom express it in the same terms ; on the other hand an author, when his works are numerous, more or less frequently, and possibly un- consciously, repeats himself in thought and expression. Massinger was a sinner in that direction, and even the great dramatist himself must plead guilty to the soft impeachment ; e.g, Biron’s speech in Love's Labour's Lost iv. 3, where the same thoughts and expressions are re- peated throughout the speech, and the lines commencing “ From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive,” etc. cii THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. occur twice, nearly v.l. in the same speech. Also compare the following passages : — Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch, To try if thou be current gold indeed.*' Rich, 111. iv. 2, “ You have beguiled me with a counterfeit, Kesembling majesty, being touched and tried, Proves valueless.” King John^ iii. 1. ** My lord. They have all been touched, and proved base metal. For they have all denied him.” Timon of AthenSy iii 3. Here the same thought is expressed in nearly identical language. Other instances could be pointed out where Shakespeare repeats himself in thought and expression. The numerous repetitions in the Contention and True Tragedy, I take to be an infallible sign that these plays are not a joint composition, but the work of one man ; and the fact combined with other e'vddence already given points to Shakespeare as the author. The Contention and True Tragedy are crowded with Shakespearean parallel passages where the thought and expression are identical. Some critics attach little value to parallel passages ; Charles Knight calls it a fallacious principle,” and further says, — ^^This is at once the easiest and the most unsatisfactory species of evidence,” yet in instances he triumphantly produces parallel passages to support his argument. Mr. A. H. BuUen says, — The testimony of parallel passages is like the evidence given by experts in handwriting before a jury : it is always expected, it is always produced, and it is seldom regard- ed.” That may be true to some extent in isolated cases, INTRODUCTION. ciii but where quotation is supported by other evidence, I submit that parallel passages are valuable and carry great weight with them. Besides parallel passages have been drawn by Dyce and others from the works of Marlowe and Greene to support their authorship of these plays, and why should not the same privilege be allowed in the ease of Shakespeare ? Imbued with the antiquated notion that sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander, I venture to lay before the reader the following passages from the Contention and True Tragedy, paralled in thought and expression by quotations from some of Shakespeare’s plays.— Parallel passages from the * Contention' and Shakespeare, * Suf. At my depart for France . . . To marry Princess Margaret for your grace. * Con. i. 1. ‘ Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. ’ Rich. 11. i. 1. Queen. Th’ excessive love I bear unto your grace. Forbids me to be lavish of my tongue, Lest I should speak more than beseems a woman.* Con. i. 1. * Q. Cath. Loved him next heaven? obeyed him ? Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? Almost forgot my prayers to content him.* Hen. Vlll. Hi. 1. ‘ The big-swoln venom of thy hateful heart. * Con. i. 1. ‘ The venomous malice of thy swelling heift.* Tit. And. v. 3, * Car. The common people swarm about him straight, Crying — * Jesus bless your royal excellence ! * With — * God preserve the good Duke Humphrey !* * Con. i. 1. ‘ K. Rich. Observed his courtship to the common people, How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy . . . A brace of draymen bid — God speed him well. Rich. II. i. 4, * Olo. Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal “ Swear and forswear himself, and brave it out, CIV filE CONTENTION AND TRVE TRAGEDY. More like a ruffian than a man of church. ’ Con, i. 1. ‘ K, Hen, Saw you the cardinal ? Nor. My lord, we have Stood here observing him. Some strange commotion Is in his brain : he bites his lip and starts ; Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on bis temple ; straight Springs out into fast gait. . . In most strange postures We have seen him set himself.’ Hen, Vlll, iii. 2. * York, Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head.’ Con, i. 1, ‘ Rich. I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand. ’ Rich. 11. iv. 1. ‘ Hum. I dreamt that this my staff, mine office badge in court. Was broke in twain, and on the ends,’ etc. Con. i. 2, * Percy. He hath forsook the court, Broke his staff of office, and dispersed The household of the king.’ Rich. II. ii. 3. ‘ Green. The Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resigned his stewardship.’ ib. ii. 2. * Hum. That a day of combat be appointed, And there to try each other’s right and wrong. Which shall be on the thirtieth of this month.’ Con. i. 3. ‘ K. Rich. Be ready, as your lives shall answer it. At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert’s day : There shall j-^our swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate.* Rich. II. i. 1, * King. Grieve not, noble uncle, but be thou glad, In that these treasons are come to light, Lest God had poured His vengeance on thy head. For her offences. ’ Con. ii. 3. * K. Rich. But when from under this terrestial ball. He fires the proud tops of the'eastern pines. And darts His light through every guilty hole, Then murders, treasons, and detested sins Stand bare and naked.* Rich. 11. iii. 2. ‘ Hum. Sweet Nell, forget this Extreme grief. And bear it patiently to ease thy heart. * Con. ii. 4, INTRODUCTION. cv * K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so. To make me end too sudden ; learn, good soul. To think our former state a happy dream. ’ Rich. II. v. 1. ‘ Elin. Be thou mild and stir not at my disgrace, Until the axe of death hang o’er my head.’ Con. ii. 4. * Buck. I have this day received a traitor’s judgment. And by that name must die . . . Even as the axe fails if I be not faithful . . . Go with me, like good angels, to my end, And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,* etc. Hen. VIII. ii. 1 * King. What, doth my lord of Suffolk bid me comfort ? Came he even now to sing a raven’s note, And thinks he that the chirping of a wren. By crying comfort through a hollow voice. Can satisfy my grief or ease my heart V Con. iii. 2. ‘ K. Rich. Of comfort no man speak : Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.* Rich. II. iii. 2, * Suf. If ever lady wronged her lord so much. Thy mother took unto her blameful bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip.* Con. iii. 2. ‘ Lady Fal. I was seduced To make room for him in my husband*s bed.’ King John^ i. 1. ‘ Car. What would you have me do, then ? Can I make men live whether they will or no ? Con. iii. 3. ‘ K. John. Think you I have the shears of destiny? Have 1 commandment on the pulse of life ?* King JohUy iv. 2, ‘ War. And that my sovereign’s presence makes me mute, I would, false murderous coward, on thy knees, Make thee crave pardon for thy passed speech. * Con. iii. 2. ‘ Bol. By this time, had the king perihitted us. One of our souls had waudered in the air.* Rich. IJ. i. 3. ♦ Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage.* id. i. 1, ‘ Suf. Now by this ground that I am banished from, Well could I curse away a winter’s night. And standing naked on a mountain top, evi THE CONTENTION AND TRUE TRAGEDY. Where biting cold would never let grass grow , And think it but a minute spent in sport.’ Con. iii. 2. Gaunt. Think not the king did banish thee, But thou the king. BoL Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand. By thinking of the frosty Caucasus ? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat.’ Rich. 11. i. 3. * Queen. And take my heart with thee. [She kistes him. Suf. A jewel locked into the wofuTst caske That ever contained a thing of worth ; Thus like a splitted bark sunder we : This way fall I to death,* etc. Con. iii. 2. ‘ K. Rich. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part ; Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. [They kiiss. Queen. Give me mine own again ; ’t was no good part To take on me to keep and kill my heart. [They kiss again, R. Rich- We make woe wanton with this fond delay : Once more, adieu ; — the rest let sorrow say. Rich. 11. v, J, ‘ Suf. Hast thou not waited at my trencher. When we have feasted with Queen Margaret ? JIast thou not kissed thy hand and held my stirrup, And bare-head plodded by my footcloth mule, And thought thee happy when I smiled on thee ?’ Con. iv. 1. * Buck. Both fell by our own servants, by those men we loved best : — A most unnatural and faithless service.’ Henry Vlll. ii. 1. * Iden. How pleasant is this country life ! This little land my father left me here. With my contented mind, serves me as well As all the pleasures in the Court can yield : Nor would I change this pleasure for the court.’ Con. iv. 10, ‘ Cor. And how like you this shepherd’s life. Master Touchstone? Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself it is a good life . , . but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. . . As it is a spare life, looh you, it fits my humour well. Wast ever at Court shepherd?’ As You Like It, iii. 2. ‘ Rich. And now, behold, under a paltry alehouse sign.’ Con. v. 1. Aaron. Ye alehouse painted signs.’ Tit. And. iv. 2. * ¥. Qlif. Ah, dismal sight ! see where he breathless lies. INTRODUCTION, cvii All smeared and weltered in his luke-warm blood.* Con. v. 2. * Mac. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood,’ Macbeth^ ii. 3. Parallel passages from the ^True Tragedy* and Shakespeare, King, Richard the Second, in view of many lords, Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth.’ True Trag. i. ’ York. To do the office of thine own good will, Which tir^d majesty did make thee offer, The resignation of thy state and crown To Henry Bolingbroke,. Bol. I thought you had been willing to resign.’ Rich. II. iv. 1. < Rut. So looks the pent-up lion on the lamb, And so he walks insulting o’er his prey, And so he turns again to rend his limbs in sunder. ’ T. T. i. 3, < Wol. So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has galled him, Then makes him nothing.’ Henry Vlll. iii. 2, * Clif. So doves do peck the raven’s piercing talons • So desperate thieves all hopeless of their lives,’ etc. T. 1. i. 4. *- Eno. To be furious, Is to be frighted out of fear ; and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge.’ Ant. <& Cleo. iii. 11. ■* Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove.’ 2 Henry IV. iii. 2. ‘ York. ’Tis beauty that makes women proud ; But God he wots thy share thereof is small. ’ T. T. i. 4. • Ros. What though you have no beauty, (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed) Must you therefore be proud and pitiless ? I see no more in you, than in the ordinary Of nature’s sale-work. ’ As You hike It, iii. 5, < York. But you are more inhuman, more inexorable* Oh, ten times more ! than tigers of Hyrcania.’ T. T. i. 4 , ♦ Rom. My intents are savage-wild, More fierce, and more inexorable far, Than emptjr tigers.’ Romeo . •“.31 • - • ■V, «■ J. ti' o KING HENRY VI. HUMPHREY, Duke of Gloiter^ Uncle to the King. CARDINAL BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester ^ Great uncle to the King. DUKE OF SOMERSET. DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. DUKE OF SUFFOLK, LORD CLIFFORD, YOUNG CLIFFORD,— 0/ the King*s Party, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York, EDWARD and RICHARD, his Sons. EARL OF SALISBURY, EARL OP WARWICK,— 0/ the York faction, SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD, and hie Brother. LORD SCALES, Governor of the Tower. SIR JOHN STANLEY. LORD SAY. VAUX. SIR JOHN HUM. (Hume in the Folio.) An Armourer. (Called Hornor in the text ; Thomas Horner in the Folio, Peter, his Man. Roger Bolingbroke, a Conjurer. A Spirit raised by him, Mayor of Saint Albans poor Man (Sander), an Imposter. A Sea Captain, Master, and Master*s Mate, Walter Whitmore. Gentlemen, Prisoners with Suffolk. JACK CADE. George, Nick, Dick the Butcher, Robin. Will, Tom, Harry, Rebels. Clerk of Chatham. ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish Gentleman. MARGARET, Queen to King Henry, ELINOR, Duchess of Gloster. MARGERY JOURDAIN, a Witch. Poor Man’s Wife. Lordbi LadieSj Heralds^ Petitioners, Aldermen, a Beadle, Sheriff and his Officers, Citizens, Prentices, Falconers, Guards, Soldiers, Rebels, Servants, Attendants, Messengers, &c. SCENE , — Dispersedly in various parts of Englanp, \ .'X THE FIEST PAET OF THE CONTENTION OF THE TWO FAMOUS HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER, WITH THE DEATH OF THE GOOD DUKE HUMPHREY, A C T L SCENE I.— -London. A Boom of State in the Palace^ Enter at one door King Henry IV., and Humphrey Duke of Gloster, and the Duke of Somerset, the Duke of Buckingham, Cardinal Beaueort, and others. Enter at the other door, the Duke of York, and the Marquis of SuEEOLK, Queen Margaret, and the Earls of Salis- bury and Warwick. Suf As by your high imperial majesty’s command, I had in charge at my depart for France, As procurator for your excellence. To marry Princess Margaret for your grace, So in the ancient famous city Tours, In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, The Dukes of Orleans, Calabar, Bretagne and Aleneong, A 2 THE FIRST PART OF [act I. Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty’^ reverend bishops, 1 did perform my task, and was espoused ; And now, most humbly on my bended knees, In sight of England and her royal peers. Deliver up my title in the queen. Unto your gracious excellence, that are the substance Of that great shadow I did represent ; The happiest gift that ever marquis gave, The fairest queen that ever king possessed. King. Suffolk, arise. — Welcome, Queen Margaret to English Henry’s court ; The greatest show of kindness yet we can bestow, Is this kind kiss. — Oh gracious God of heaven, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness. For in this beauteous face thou hast bestowed A world of pleasures to my perplexed soul. Queen. Th’ excessive love I bear unto your grace, f Forbids me to be lavish of my tongue. Lest I should speak more than beseems a woman : Let this suffice : — my bliss is in your liking. And nothing can make poor Margaret miserable. Unless the frown of mighty England’s king. King. Her looks did wound, but now her speech doth pierce. [Aside. Lovely Queen Margaret, sit down by my side ; And uncle Gloster, and you lordly peers, * Ed. 1594 reads and then they a clear proof that the play was taken down probably in shorthand, during the representation, and that the scribe mis- heard the word. The reading in the text is from the quarto of 1619, which agrees with the first Folio, and the chronicles. t This and the next speech is given very differently in the Folio play. See 2 Hen. VI. , i. 1, 1. 24, et seq. •sc. I.] rilE CONTENTION, 3 With one voice welcome my belovM queen. All, Long live Queen Margaret, England’s happiness ! Queen. We thank you all. [^Sound trumpets, Suf. My lord Protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles confirmed of peace. Between our sovereign, and the French king Charles, Till term of eighteen months be full expired. Hum. [reads.] Impris, — It is agreed between the French king Charles, and William de la Poole, Marquis of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry King of England, that the said Henry shall wed and espouse the Lady Mar- garet, daughter to Paynard"^ King of Naples, Sicils, and Jerusalem; and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth of the next month. — Item, — It is further agreed between them, that the duchies of Anjou and of Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her fa — ” [Duke Humphrey lets it fall.\ King. How now, uncle, what’s the matter, that you stay so suddenly ? Hum. Pardon, my lord, a sudden qualm came over my heart. Which dims mine eyes that I can read no more. Uncle of Winchester, I pray you read on.J Car. [reads ^ Item, — It is further agreed between them, that the duchies of Anjou and of Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father ; and she sent over of the King of England’s own proper cost * Folio, Reignier. t This stage direction is not in the Folio. X F. gives this line to the King. Q. 1619 reads, — “ My lord of York, I pray do you read on.” and the next speech is accordingly given to York. 4 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT I. and charges, without dowry. King, They please us well. — Lord marquis kneel down : We here create thee first Duke of Suffolk, And girt thee with the sword. Cousin of York, We here discharge your grace from being regent In the parts of France, till term of eighteen months Be full expired. — Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, and Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick We thank you all, for this great favour done In entertainment to my princely queen. Come, let us in, and with all speed provide To see her coronation be performed. [Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk ; and Dulce Humphuey stays all the rest. Hum. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state. To you Duke Humphrey must unfold his grief. What ! did my brother Henry toil himself. And waste his subjects for to conquer France ? And did my brother Bedford spend his time To keep in awe that stout unruly realm ? And have not I and mine uncle Beaufort here. Done all we could to keep that land in peace ? And are all our labours then spent in vain, For Suffolk, he the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given away for our King Henry’s queen. The duchies of Anjou and Maine unto her father. Ah, lords, fatal is this marriage ; cancelling our states, Beversing monuments of conquered France, * In the 1594 quarto this speech, to this point, is printed as prose. sc. T.] THE CONTENTION. 5 Undoing all, as none had ne’er been done.* Car. Why, how now, cousin Grioster, what needs this ? As if our king were bound unto your will, And might not do his will without your leave. Proud Protector, envy in thine eyes I see, The big swol’n venom of thy hateful heart. That dares presume ’gainst that thy sovereign likes. f Hum. Nay, my lord, ’tis not my words that trouble you, But my presence, proud prelate as thou art : Car. There goes our Protector in a rage ; My lords, you know he is my great enemy, And though he be Protector of the land, . And thereby covers his deceitful thoughts, Por well you see, if he but walk the streets. The common people swarm about him straight, Crying, Jesus bless your royal excellence ! ” With God preserve the good Duke Humphrey ! ” And many things besides that are not known. Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey. But I will after him, and if I can. I’ll lay a plot to heave him from his seat. [Exit, Buc, But let us watch this haughty cardinal ; Cousin of Somerset, be ruled by me, * In the Folio this speech is considerably altered and expanded. It may be pointed out that eleven lines are incorporated in Gloster’s speech, and lines 10 11 12 are condensed into two and transplanted into Gloster’s next speech t Between this and the next speech, the Folio has thirty-two lines of which but very faint traces are to be found in the old play. 6 THE FIE ST FAFcT OF [act I. We’ll watch Duke Humphrey and the cardinal too, And put them from the mark they fain would hit. Som. Thanks, cousin Buckingham, join thou with me, And both of us with the Duke of Suffolk, Will quickly heave Duke Humphrey from his seat. Bug, Content. — Come then, let us about it straight, Dor either thou or I will be Protector. [Exeunt Buc. and Sow. SaL Priffe went before. Ambiti on fo llows aftei:, — W'hilst these do seek their own preferments thus, My lords let us seek for our country’s good. Oft have I seen this haughty cardinal Swear, and forswear himself, and brave it out, More like a ruffian than a man of church. Cousin York, the victories thou hast won In Ireland, Normandy, and in France, Hath won thee immortal praisS'in England. And thou, brave Warwick, my thrice valiant son, Thy simple plainness and thy housekeeping, Hath won thee credit amongst the common sort. The reverence of mine age, and Nevil’s name, Is of no little force if I command ; Then let us join all three in one for this. That good Duke Humphrey may his state possesss : — But wherefore weeps Warwick, my noble son War, For grief that aU is lost that Warwick won. Zounds, t Anjou and Maine both given away at once ! ^ In the Folio this line is introduced earlier in the scene ; it is in Salisbury’s speech, 1. 114. J Old copy, Sonnes, a nJsprint for Souns, or Zounds. The same mistake appears in i, 4. sc. !.] ■ ' THE CONTENTION, 7' Why, Warwick did win them, and must that then Which we won with our swords be given away With words ? Yorh. As I have read, our Kings of England / Were wont to have large dowries with their wives, V But our King Henry gives away his own. j Sal. Come, sons, away, and look unto the main . War. Unto the main ? Oh, father, Maine is lost, Which Warwick by main force did win from France ; Main chance, father, you meant, but I meant Maine, 7 Which I will win from France, or else be slain. [Exeunt Sal., and War. York. Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England. f A day will come when York shall claim his own, And therefore I will take the Nevil’s parts, j And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey : j And when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that ’s the golden mark I seek to hit : Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right. Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist. Nor wear the diadem upon his head. Wh ose church-lik^hum ours fit not for a crown. Then, York, be still awhile till time do serve : Watch thou, and wake when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state. .iji * Twenty-two lines, of which there is no trace in the old play, precede this speech of York’s in the Folio. t These two lines are repeated by York, in in. 1. They are also in the FoUo play, 1 . 1, and, with a slight variation, in iii. 1, q, v. 8 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT I. Till Henry surfeiting in joys of love, With his new bride, and England’s dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall’n at jars, Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed, And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple"^ with the house of Lancaster ; And force perforce. I’ll make him yield the crown, ’ Whose bookish rule hath pulled fair England down.j- ) \Exit, SCENE II. — London. A Boom in Duke Humphrey’s House. Enter Duke Humphrey, and Dame Elinor Cobham, Ms Wife. Elin. Why droops my lord like over-ripened corn, Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load ? What seest thou, Duke Humphry ? King Henry’s crown ? Heach at it ; and if thine arms be too short. Mine shall lengthen it. Art not thou a prince, Uncle to the king, and his Protector ? Then what shouldst thou lack that might content thy mind ? Hum. My lovely Nell, far be it from my heart To think of treasons ’gainst my sovereign lord. But I was troubled with a dream to-night. And God I pray it do betide no iU. * Ed. 1594 grafflCf another instance of mishearing. Q.1619 re&dB grapple, and so does the Folio, t This scene in the Folio contains 261 lines. THE CONTENTION. 9 sc. ir.] Elin. What dreamt my lord ? Good Humphrey, tell it me, And I’ll interpret it ; and when that ’s done, I’ll tell thee then what I did dream to-night. Hum. This night when I was laid in bed, I dreamt That this my staff, mine office badge in Court, Was broke in two, and on the ends were placed The heads of the cardinal of Winchester, ^ And William de la Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.'^ Elin. Tush, my lord, this signifies nought but this, — That he that breaks a stick of Gloster’s grove. Shall for th’ offence make forfeit of his head.f But now, my lord. I’ll tell you what I dreamt : Methought I was in the cathedral church At Westminster, and seated in the chair Where kings and queens are crowned, and at my feet Henry and Margaret with a crown of gold Stood ready to set it on my princely head. * The reading in the text is that of Q. 1594 ; the difference between it and Q. 1619, which also differs from F. 1623, is so wide and so important, that it is necessary to give the two readings. — “ Hum. This night when I was laid in bed, I dreamt That this my staff, mine office badge in Court, Was broke in twain, by whom I cannot guess, But as I think by the cardinal. What it bodes, God knows ; and on the ends were placed The heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.” Q. 1619, i. 2. Glo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain : by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, 't was by the cardinal ! And on the pieces of the broken wand, Were placed the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.” F. 1623 t This line occurs in The True Tragedy of Richard Luke of York, ii. 1. 10 THE FIRST PART OF [act I, Hum. Fie Nell, ambitious woman as thou art ! Art thou not second woman in this land, And the Protector’s wife, beloved of him. And wilt thou still be hammering treason thus ? Away, I say, and let me hear no more. Elin. How now, my lord ! What, angry with your Nell For telling but her dream ? The next I have. I’ll keep to myself, and not be rated thus. Hum. Na}^, Nell, I’ll give no credit to a dream ; But I would have thee think on no such things. Enter a Messenger, Mes. And it please your grace, the king and queen to-morrow morning will ride a-hawking to Saint Albans, and crave your company along with them. Him. With all my heart, I will attend his grace : Come, Nall, thou wilt go with us‘^ I am sure. [Exit, Elin. I’ll come after you, for I cannot go before ; But ere it be long I’ll go before them all. Despite of all that seek to cross me thus.f Who ’s within there ? * Us repeated in old copy, t There is a material variation between the text and the same speech in the 1619 quarto, which reads, — “ Elin. I’ll come after you, for I cannot go before, As long as Gloster bears this base and humble mind : Were I a man, and Protector as he is, I’d reach to th’ crown, or make some hop headless : And being but a woman. I’ll not be behind For playing of my part, in spite of all That seek to cross me thus.” Compare the same speech in the Folio play. The expression hop headless, occurs in King Leir, iii. 2, and the old King John, Pt. 1, in. 1 ; there is a similar thought in the True Tragedy of Richard 111. sc. II.] THE CONTENTION, 11 Enter Siu John What, Sir John ! what news with j^ou ? Sir John, Jesus preserve your majesty. Elm, My majesty ! Why, man, I am but grace. Sir John, Ay, but by the grace of God, and Hum’s- advice. Your grace’s state shall be advanced ere long. Elin, What, hast thou conferred with Margrey Jour- dain, the cunning witch of Ely, with E-oger Bolingbrokef and the rest, and will they undertake to do me good ? Sir John. I have, madam, and they have promised me to raise a spirit from the depth of underground, that shall tell your grace all questions you demand. Elin. Thanks, good Sir John. Some two days hence, I guess. Will fit our time, then see that they be here ; For now the king is riding to Saint Albans, And all the dukes and earls along with him ; When they be gone, then safely they may come, And on the backside of my orchard here. There cast their spells in silence of the night. And so resolve us of the thing we wish ; Till when, drink that for my sake, and so farewell. [Exit. Sir John. Now Sir John Hum , no words but muin^ Seal up your lips for you must silent be. These gifts ere long will make me mighty rich j The duchess she thinks now that all is well, * Hume in Folio. The title of Sir John was usually applied to priests in the 16 and 17th centuries. t Ed. 1594, Bulinghroke ; in some places it is Bullenhroke. TUB FIBST PART OF [ACT I. But I have gold comes from another place, From one that hired me to set her on To plot these treasons ’gainst the king and peers, And that is the mighty Duke of Suffolk ; For he it is, but I must not say so, That by my means must work the duchess’ fall. Who now by conjurations thinks to rise. But whist Sir John, no more of that I trow, For fear you lose your head before you go.^ [Exit, SCENE III, — London. A Boom in the Palace. Enter two Petitioners, and Petee the Armourer’s man. 1 Pet. Come, sirs, let us linger here abouts awhile, Until my lord Protector come this way. That we may show his grace our several causes. 2 Pet. I pray God save the good Duke Humphrey’s life, For but for him a many were undone, That cannot get no succour in the Court ; But see where he comes with the queen. Enter the Duke of Suffolk, with the Queen, and they take him for the Duke Humphrey, and give him their writings. 1 Pet. Oh, we are undone ; this is the Duke of Suffolk ! Queen. Now, good fellows, whom would you speak withal ? 2 Pet. If it please your majesty, with my lord Pro- tor’s grace. Queen. Are your suits to his grace ? Let us see them first : — look on them, my lord of Suffolk. * This scene in the Folio play contains 107 lines. sc. III.] THE CONTENTION. 13 Suf, A complaint against the cardinal’s man. What hath he done ? 2 Pet, Marry, my lord, he hath stole away my wife, and th’ are gone together, and I know not where to find them. Svf. Hath he stole thy wife? that’s some injury in- deed. — But what saj^ you ? Peter Thump, Marry, sir, I come to tell you that my master said that the Duke of York was true heir unto the crown, and that the king was an usurer. Queen, An usurper, thou wouldst say. Peter, Ay, forsooth, an usurper. Queen, Didst thou say the king was an usurper ? Peter, No, forsooth, I said my master said so th’ other day when we were scouring the Duke of York’s armour in our garret. Suf, Ay, marry, this is something like. Who ’s within there *? Enter one or tivo. Sirrah, take in this fellow and keep him close. And send out a pursuivant for his master straight ; — We’ll hear more of this before the king. [Exeunt Servants with the Armourer’s man. Now sir, what ’s yours ? Let me see it. What ’s here ? Complaint against the Duke of Suffolk for enclosing the commons of Long Melford. How now, sir knave ? 1 Pet, I beseech your grace to pardon me, I am but a messenger for the whole township. [He tears the papers, Suf, So, now show your petitions to Duke Humphrey. Yillains, get you gone, and come not near the Court, — 14 THE FIESr PART OF [act I. Dare the peasants write against me thus ? [Exeunt Petitioners. Queen. My lord of Suffolk you may see by this,* The Commons’ love unto that haughty duke, That seeks to him more than to King Henry, AVhbse eyes are always poring on his book, And ne’er regards the honour of his name, But still must be protected like a child, And governed by that ambitious duke. That scarce will move his cap nor speak to us ; And his proud wife, high-minded Elinor, That ruffles it with such a troop of ladies. As strangers in the Court take her for the queen. She bears a duke’s whole revenues on her back The other day she vaunted to her maids. That the very train of her worst gown. Was worth more wealth than all my father’s lands. Can any grief of mind be like to this ? 1 tell thee, Poole, when thou didst run at tilt. And and stol’st away our lady’s heart in France,J 1 thought King Henry had been like to thee, Cr else thou hadst not brought me out of France. Suf. Madam, content yourself a little while ; As I was the cause of your coming to England, ! The corresponding scene in the Folio is much altered and expanded o t This line, which is not in the early quartos-a significant fact, is from the edition of 1619 The same line, slightly varied, occurs in the Folio a little farther on, 1. 80. There is a similar thought in King Leir, i. 6, “ She’ll lay her husband’s beniflee on her back.” and in Marlowe’s Edward 11. i. 3,— “He wears a lord’s revenues on his back.” X Cf. Edward II, v. 5,— “ Tell Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus. When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, sc. III.] THE CONTENTION. 15 So will I in England work your full content ; And as for proud Duke Humphrey and his wife, I have set lime-twigs that will entangle them, As that your grace ere long shall understand : But stay, madam, here comes the king. Enter King Henry, and the Dulze o/York, and the Duke of Somerset on both sides of the King, whispering with him; and enter Duke Hctmphery, Dame Elinor, the Duke 0/ Buckingham, the Earl of Salisbury, the Earl 0/ Warwick, and the Cardinal 0/ Winchester. King. My lords, I care not who be Eegent in France ; Or York, or Somerset, all ’s one to me. York. My lord, if York hath ill demeaned himself. Let Somerset enjoy his place and go to France. Som. Then whom your grace thinks worthy, let him go, And there be made Eegent over the French. War. Whomsoever you account worthy, York is the worthiest. Car. Peace, Warwick ! Give thy betters leave to speak. War. The cardinal ’s not my better in the field. Buc. All in this place are thy betters far. War. And Warwick Tnay live to be the best of all. Queen. My lord, in mine opinion, it were best That Somerset were Eegent over France. Hum. Madam, our king is old enough himself. To give his answer without your consent. Queen. If he be old enough, what needs your grace To be Protector over him so long ? Hum. Madam, I am but Protector over the land. And when it please his grace I will resign my charge. 16 THE FIBST rAET OF [act I. S)if, Resign it then, for since that thou wast king, (As who is king but thee ?) the common state Doth, as we see, all wholly go to wrack, And millions of treasure hath been spent ; And as for the Regentship of France, I say Somerset is more worthy than York. Yorlz, I’ll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am not worthy ; Because I cannot flatter as thou canst. War, And yet the worthy deeds that York hath done, Should make him worthy to be honoured here. Suf, Peace, headstrong Warwick ! War, Image of pride, wherefore should I peace ? Suf, Because here is a man accused of treason ; Pray God the Duke of York do clear himself ! Ho, bring hither the armourer and his man. Elder the Armourer and his Man. If it please your grace, this fellow here hath accused his master of high treason, and his words were these, — That the Duke of York was lawful heir unto the crown, and that your grace was an usurper. Yorh. I beseech your grace let him have what punish- ment the law will afford, for hi^ villainy. King. Come hither, fellow ; didst thou speak these words ? Arm. An’t shall please your majesty, I never said any such matter, God is my witness ; I am falsely accused by this villain here. Peter. ’Tis no matter for that, you did say so. Yo7'1c. I beseech your grace, let him have the law. Arm. Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the sc. III.] THE CONTENTION. 17 words ; id j accuser is my ’prentice, and when I did cor- rect him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees that he would he even with me ; I have good wit- ness of this, and therefore I beseech your majesty do not cast away an honest man for a villain’s accusation. King. Uncle Gloster, what do you think of this ? Hum. The law, my lord, is this, by case it rests sus- picious. That a day of combat be appointed. And there to try each other’s right or w^rong, Which shall be on the thirtieth of this month. With ebon staves and sandbags combatting. In Smithfield, before your royal majesty. \Exit. Arm. And I accept the combat willingly. Feter. Alas, my lord, I am not able to fight. Siff. You must either fight, sirrah, or else be hanged ; Go take them hence again to prison.^ [Exeunt with them. [The Queen lets fall her glove, and hits the Duchess of Glostee a box on the ear. Queen. Give me my glove, my minion, can you not see ? [She strikes her. I cry you mercy, madam, I did mistake ; I did not think it had been you. Elin. Did you not ? Proud Frenchwoman, Could I come near your dainty visage with my nails, I’d set my ten commandmentsf in your face. King. Be patient, gentle aunt ; it w^as against her wdll. J 111 the Folio this incident between the Armourer and Peter is placed after the insult offered to the Duchess of Gloster. t The ten commandments meant the ten finger nails : the line is in the Folio play. The expression is used in The Taming of a Shrew, i. 1 , Locrine, iv S Westward Ho, and other old plays. ' ' B 18 THE FIRST PART OF [act I. Elin. Against her will ! Good king, she’ll dandle thee, If thou wilt always thus be ruled by her : But let it rest. As sure as I do live, She shall not strike dame El’nor unrevenged.* \^Exit, King. Believe me, my love, thou wert much to blame ; I would not for a thousand pounds of gold. My noble uncle had been here in place. Enter Duke Humphrey. But see where he comes ; I am glad he met her not. — Uncle Gloster, what answer makes your grace Concerning our Begent for the realm of France ? Whom thinks your grace is meetest for to send ? Hum. My gracious lord, then this is my resolve, — For that these words the armourer should speak, Doth breed suspicion on the part of York, Let Somerset be Begent over the French, Till trial ’s made, and York may clear himself. King. Then be it so ; my lord of Somerset, We make your grace Begent over the French, And to defend our rights ’gainst foreign foes. And so do good unto the realm of France. Make haste, my lord, ’tis time that you were gone. The time of truce I think is full expired. Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty. And take my leave to post with speed to France. [Exit. King. Come, uncle Gloster, now let’s have our horse. For we will to Saint Albans presently. Madam, your hawk they say is swift of flight, * At this point 22 lines are introduced in the Folio play, of which scarcely a trace can be found in the old copies. sc. III.] THE CONTENTION. 19 And we will try how she will fly to-day,'^ [Exeunt, SCENE IV. — The same. The Duke of Glosteb’s Garden, Enter Elinor with Sir John Hum, RogerI Bolingbroke a Conjurer, and Margery Jourdain a Witch, Elm. Here, Sir John, take this scroll of paper here, Wherein is writ the questions you shall ask, And I will stand upon this tower here. And hear the spirit what it says to you. And to my questions write the answers down. [She goes up to the Toicer. Sir John, Now, sirs, begin and cast your spells about, And charm the fiends for to obey your wills. And tell dame Elinor of the thing she asks. Witch. Then, Roger Bolingbroke, about thy task, And frame a circle here upon the earth. Whilst I thereon all prostrate on my face, Do talk and whisper with the devils below. And conjure them for to obey my will. [She lies down upon her face, Bolingbroke makes a circle, Bol, Dark night, dread night, the silence of the night, J Wherein the Euries mask in hellish troops. Send up, I charge you, from Cocytus’g lake. The spirit Askalon to come to me. To pierce the bowels of this centric earth ; And hither come in twinkling of an eye : * This scene in F. contains 121 lines. t Old copy, Roger, a misprint. t F. reads, silent : the expression, “ silence of the night,” occurs at p. 11. § Old copy prints Sosetus lake. Cocytus was one of the rivers of hell. 20 THE FIRST PART OF [act I. Askalon, ascenda, ascenda [It thunders and lightens, and then the spirit riseth up. Spirit. Now, Bolingbroke, what wouldst thou have me do ? Bol. First, of the king ; what shall become of him ? Spirit. The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive, and die a violent death. Bol. What fate awaits the Duke of Suflolk ? Spirit. By water shall he die, and take his end. Bol. What shall betide the Duke of Somerset ? Spirit. Let him shun castles : safer shall he be Upon the sandy plains, f than where castles mounted stand. Now question me no more, for I must hence agein. [He sinks down again. Bol. Then down, I say, unto the damnM pool Where Pluto in his fiery waggon sits, Hiding amidst the singed and parchM smokes The road of Ditus by the river Styx, There howl and burn for ever in those flames ; Pise, Jourdain, rise, and stay thy charming spells. Zounds, J we are betrayed ! Enter the Duke 0/ York, and the Duke 0/ Buckingham, and Others. York. Come, sirs, lay hands on them, and bind them sure ; This time was well watched. What, madam are you there ? * The opening of this scene is somewhat different to the Folio version, t According to Mr. Fleay, one of Lodge’s trade-marks; the phrase is in F. X Old copy, Sonnes ; see note ante, p. 6 . sc. IV.] THE CONTENTION. 21 This will be great credit for your husband, That you are plotting treasons thus with conjurors ; The king shall have notice of this thing. [Exit Elinor above, Bug, See here, my lord, what the devil hath writ. Yorh. Give it me, my lord. I’ll show it to the king. — Go, sirs, see them fast locked in prison. [Exeunt with them, Bug, My lord, I pray you let me go post unto the king. Unto Saint Albans, to tell this news. Yorh. Content. Away then ; about [it] straight. Bug. Farewell, my lord."^ [Exit, York, Who ’s within, there ? Enter one, One, My lord. Yorh, Sirrah, go wiUf of Salisbury And Warwick to sup with me to-night. [Exit, One, I will, my lord.J [Exit, ♦This scene is considerably amplified, towards the close, in the Folio ; many lines being introduced which are not to be found in the old play. t i.e. Bid, desire ; the Folio word is invite. t This scene in the Folio contains 83 lines. 22 THE FIRST PART OF [act I. ACT IL SCENE I. — Saint Albans. Enter the King, and Queen with her Hawlc on her fist * and Duke Humphrey and Suffolk and the Cardinal, as if they came from hawking. Queen. My lord, how did yonr grace like this last flight ? But as I cast her off the wind did rise. And ’t was ten to one old done had not gone out. King. How wonderful the Lord’s works are on earth, Even in these silly creatures of his hands ! Uncle Glo ster, l:ow high your havck did soar, And on a sudden soused the partridge down. Suf. No marvel, if it please your majesty. My Lord Protector’s hawks dof tower so well, They know their master loves to be aloft. Hum. Faith, my lord, it is but a base mind That can soar no higher than a falcon’s pitch. J Car. I thought your grace would be above the clouds. * Not in F. The stage directions in these old plays differ materially from those of the Folio ; I have retained them as they appear in the old copies, as they furnish important and conclusive evidence that the plays were taken down during representation, and not from the author’s MS. or the playhouse transcripts. t Ed, 1594 reads, “ hawk done tower so well.” The reading adopted agrees with eds. 1600, 1619, and the Folio. J This speech differs in Q. 1619, which closely agrees v.ith the Folio text “ Hum. Faith, my lord, ’tis but a base mind, That soars no higher than a bird can soar.” Q, 1619. “ Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind, That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.” F. 1623. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 23 Hum. A.jy my lord cardinal, were it not good Your grace could fly to heaven ? Car. Thy heaven is on earth, thy words and thoughts Beat"^ on a crown, proud Protector, Dangerous peer, to smooth it thus with king And commonwealth. Hum. How now, my lord ? Why, this is more than needs If Churchman so hot ! Good uncle, can you:, do it Suf. AYhy not, having so good a quarrel and so bad a cause ? Hura. As how, my lord ? Suf. As you, my lord ; And it like your lordly lord-protectorship. Hum. Why, Suflolk, England knows thy insolence. Queen. And thy ambition, Gloster. King. Cease, gentle queen, And whet not on these furious lords to wrath. For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make Against this proud Protector with my sword. Hum. Faith, holy uncle, I would it were come to that. Car. Even when thou darest. Hum. Dare ! I tell thee, priest, Plantagenets could never brook the dare. Car. I am Plantagenet as well as thou. And son to John of Gaunt. * i.e. To keep the thoughts busied or fixed on any particular subject, t Following this line, in the Folio, there is a line of Latin, — Tantcene animis co&lentihus irce ? which, as usual with other Latin scraps, is not found in the old play. X So q. 1619, and the Folio : Q. 1594, doate. 24 THE FIRST PART OF [act ir. Hum. Car. I scorn thy words. In bastardy. Hum. Make up no factious numbers, But even in thine own person meet me At the east end of the grove. Car. Here ’s my hand ; I will. King. Why, how now, my lords ? Car, Faith, cousin Gloster, had not your man cast off so soon, we had had more sport to-day. — Come with thy sword and buckler. Hum. Faith, priest. I’ll shave your crown. Car. Protector, protect thyself well. King. The wind grows high, so doth your choler, lords. Enter one crying “A miracle ! a miracle !” How now ! Now, sirrah, what miracle is it ? One. And it please your grace, there is a man that came blind to Saint Albans, and hath received his sight at his’^ shrine. King. Go fetch him hither, that we may glorify the Lord with him. Enter the Mayor of Saint Alhams and his Brethren, ici music, hearing the Man that had been blind between two i a chair.1[ King, Thou happy man ! give God eternal praise. For He it is that thus hath helped thee Hum, Where wast thou born ? * So Q. 1594 ; Q. 1619, the shrine, but query, “ at this shrine’*, t Compare these directions with the Folio, and modern editions. gc. -T.] THE CONTENTION. 25 Poor man.* At Berwick, sir, in the north. Him. At Berwick, and come thus far for help ? Poor man. Ay, sir, it was told me in my sleep that SMeet Saint Allans should ghe me my sight again. Hum. What, artf thou lame too ? Poor man. Ay, indeed, sir ; God help me ! Hum. How cam’st thou lame ? Poor man. With falling otf onj a plum tree. Hum. Wert thou blind, and would climb plum trees? Poor man. Never but once, sir, in all my life; my wife did long for plums. Hum. But tell me, wert thou born blind ? Poor man. Ay, truly, sir. Woman. Ay, indeed, sir, he was born blind. Hum. What art thou, his mother ? Woman. His wife, sir. Hum. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told. Why, let me see, I think thou canst not§ see yet. Poor man. Yes, truly, master, as clear as day. Hum, Sayst thou so ? What colour ’s his cloak ? Poor man. Why, red, master ; as red as blood. Hum. And his cloak ? Poor man. Why, that ’s green. Hum. And what colour ’s his hose ? Poor man. Yellow, master ; yellow as gold. * There seems some confusion about the name of this individual ; he is called Foot many in the speech prefix, and a few lines lower down he owns to his name being Sander. In the Folio play the speech prefix is Sirn^JC., and in the text it is Symon, and Saunder Simpeox. t Old copy, are. t Not in Q. 1619, or Folio. § Old copy, cant noty 26 THE FIE ST FART CF [act ir. Hum, And what colour ’s my gown ? Poor man. Black, sir ; as black as jet. King. Then belike he knows what colour jet is on, Suf. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. Hum. But cloaks and gowns, ere this day, many a one. — But tell me, sirrah, what’s my name ? Toor man. Alas, master, 1 know not. Hum. What ’s his name ? Foot man. I know not. Hum. Nor his ? Foot man. No, truly, sir. Hum. Nor his name ? Poor man. No, indeed, master. Hum. What ’s thine own name ? Poor man. Sander, and it please jmu, master. Hum. Then, Sander, sit there the lyingest knave in Christendom.^' If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightest as well have known our names, as thus to name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours, but suddenly to nominate them all, it is impos- sible. My lords. Saint Albans here hath done a miracle, and would you not think hisf cunning to be great that could restore this cripple to his legs again Poor man. Oh, master, I would you could ! Hum. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not * Cf. Soliman and Perseda, i. 2, — “ The bragging’st knave in Christendom,” and Arden of Feversham, iv. 4, — “ The railingest knave in Christendom." t The Folio misprints “his" it ; since Malone, who adopted that, on Row e’s suggestion, modern editors have restored the genuine w'ord from the old play. ^ In the Folio this speech is printeu as verse. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 27 beadles in your town, and things called whips Mayor. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. Hum. Then send for one presently. Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. [Exit one. Hum. Now fetch me a stool hither, by and by. Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away, Enter Beadle. Poor man. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone ; you go about to torture me in vain. Hum. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. — Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool. Beadle. I will, my lord. — Come on, sirrah, off with your doublet quickty. 'Poor man, Alas, master, what shall I do ? I am not able to stand. [After the Beadle had hit him one jerh, he leaps over the stool and runs away ; and they run after him, crying, — A miracle ! A miracle Hum. A miracle, a miracle ! Let him be taken again, * Cf. The Spanish Tragedy, iv. 4 ; Hieronimo is the speaker ; — “ And there is Nemesis and furies, And things called whips.** This occurs in the additions to the play by Ben Jonson in 1601-2. Armin in his Nest of Ninnies, 1608, says : — “Ther are. as Hamlet saies, things cald whips instore.” No such passage is to be found in Hamlet, but there may have been an older Hamlet which contained these words. It is very probable, however, that Armin was quoting from this play and confused Hieronimo with Hamlet. t This scene is founded on a story which Sir Thomas More has related, and which he says was communicated to him by his father. The imposter’s name is not mentioned, but he was detected by Humphrey Duke of Gloster, and iq the manner here represented. Malone. 28 THE FIEST PART OF [ACT II. and whipped at every market town till he comes at Ber- wick, where he was horn. Mayor, It shall he done, my lord. [Exit. Suf. My lord Protector hath done wonders to-day ; he hath made the blind to see, and’^ halt to go. Hum. Ay, hut you did greater wonders, when you made whole dukedoms fly in a day ; witness France. King. Have done^ I say, and let me hear no more Of that, Enter the Duke of Buckingham. What news brings Duke Humphrey of Buckingham ? Bug. Ill news for some, my lord, and this it is, — That proud dame Elinor, our Protector’s wife, Hath plotted treasons ’gainst the king and peers, By witchcraft, sorceries, and conjurings, ’ Who by such means did raise a spirit up. To tell her what hap should betide the state ; But ere they had finished their devilish drift, By York and myself they were all surprised. And here ’s the answer the devil did make to them. King, First of the king ; what shall become of him ? [Beads.'] The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose, Yet him outlive, and die a violent death. — God’s will be done in all ! What fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ? — By water shall he die and take his end. Suf. By water must the Duke of Suffolk die ? It must be so, or else the devil doth lie. * Ed. 1600 reads, “ and the halt” ; the article seems necessary to the sense of the passage. TUB CONTENTION. 29 SC. I.] King. Let Somerset shun castles ; For safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, Than where castles mounted stand. Car. Here’s good stuff. How now, my lord Protector? This news, I think, hath turned your weapon’s point ; I am in doubt you ’ll scarcely keep your promise. Hum. Forbear, ambitious prelate, to urge my grief ; — And pardon me, my gracious sovereign, For here I swear unto your majesty, That I am guiltless of these heinous crimes Which my ambitious wife hath falsely done ; And for she would betray her soverign lord, I here renounce her from my bed and board. And leave her open for the law to judge. Unless she clear herself of this foul deed. King. Come, my lords, this night we’ll lodge in Saint Albans, And to-morrow we will ride to London, And try the utmost of these treasons forth. Come, uncle Gloster, along with us. My mind doth tell me thou art innocent.'*^ [Exeunt omnes. SCENE II. — London. The Dulce o/Yobk’s Garden. Enter the Duke of York, and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. York. My lords, our simple supper ended, thus Let me reveal unto your honours here. The right and title of the house of York, To England’s crown by lineal descent. * This scene in the Folio contains 231 lines, 30 THE FIRST FART OF [act tt. War, Then York, begin, and if thy claim be good, The Nevils are thy subjects to command. York. Then thus, my lords. — Edward the third had seven sons f ‘ — the first was Edward the black prince, Prince of Wales ; the second was Edmund of Langley, f Duke of York ; the third was Lionel, Duke of Clarence ; the fourth was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster ; the fifth was Poger Mortimer, f Earl of March ; the sixth was Sir Thomas of Woodstock ; William of Windsor was the seventh, and last. Now, Edward the black prince, he died before his father, and left behind him Pichard, that afterwards was king, crowned by the name of Pic- hard the second, and he died without an heir. Edmund * There is a material difference between the pedigree as here given, and that of Q. If.l9 ; the latter makes a nearer approach to the Folio, which should be compared w th the quartos. A transcript of the account as contained in the quarto of 1619, is here given. “ Edward the third had seven sons, The first was Edward the black prince, Prince of Wales. The second was William of Hatfield, who died young. The third was Lionel, Duke of Clarence. The fourth was John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The fifth was Edmund of Langley, Duke of York. The sixth was William of Windsor, who died young. The seventh, and last, was Sir Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of York. Now, Edward the black prince died before his father, leaving behind him two sons ; Edward, born at Angolesme, who died young, and Richard, that was after crowned by the name of Richard the second, who died without an heir. “ Lionel, Duke of Clarence, died, and left him one only daughter, named Phillip, who was married to Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March and Ulster ; and so by her I claim the crown, as the true heir to Lionel, Duke of Clarence, third son to Edward the third. Now, sir, in time of Richard’s reign, Henry of Bolingbroke, son and heir to John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, fourth son to Edward the third, he claimed the crown, deposed the mirthful king, and, as both you know, in Pomfret castle harmless Richard was shamefully murthered, and so by Richard’s death came the house of Lancaster unto the crown," t A mistake ; corrected in the Folio. sc. II.] THE CONTENTION. 31 of Langley, Duke of York, died and left behind him two daughters, Anne and Elinor. Lionel, Duke of Clarence, died, and left behind Alice, Anne, and Elinor, that was after married to my father, and by her I claim the crown, as the true heir to Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third son to Edward the third. Now, sir, in the time of Eic- hard’s reign, Henry of Bolingbroke, son and heir to John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, fourth son to Edward the third, he claimed the crown, deposed the mirthfuD' king, and as both you know, in Pomfret castle harmless Eichard was shamefully murthered, and so by Eichard’s death came the house of Lancaster unto the crown. Sal. Saving your tale, my lord, as I have heard, in the reign of Bolingbroke, the Duke of York did claim the crown, and but for Owen Glendower, had been king. Yorh. True : but so it fortuned then, by means of that monstrous rebel Glendower, the noble Duke of York was done to death, and so, ever since, the heirs of Gaunt have possessed the crown. But if the issue of the elder should succeed before the issue of the younger, then am I lawful heir unto the kingdom. War, What plain proceedings can be more plain ? he claims it from Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third son of Edward the third; and Henry, from John of Gaunt, the fourth son ; so that till Lionel’s issue fails, his should not reign. It fails not yet, but flourisheth in thee, and in thy sons, brave slips of such a stock ! — Then, noble father, kneel we both together, and in this private place F. rightful. 32 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT II. be we the first to honour him with birthright to the crown. Both. Long live Eichard, England’s royal king I York. I thank you both. But, lords, I am not your king, until this sword be sheathed even in the heart- blood of the house of Lancaster. War. Then, York, advise thyself and take thy time ; Claim thou the crown, and set thy standard up, And in the same, advance the milk-white rose ; And then to guard it will I rouse the bear. Environed with ten thousand ragged staves. To aid and help thee for to win thy right, Maugre the proudest lord of Henry’s blood, That dares deny the right and claim of York ; Eor why ? — my mind presageth I shall live. To see the noble Duke of York to be a king.f York. Thanks, noble Warwick ; and York doth hope to see the Earl of Warwick live to be the greatest man in England, but the king. Come, let ’s go. J [Exeunt. * Cf True Tragedy, ii. 1, — I cannot joy till this white rose be dyed, Even in the heart-blood of the house of Lancaster.” In the Folio play, ten lines are added to this speech of York’s, t The first eight lines of this speech are not in the Folio, t This scene in the Foiio has 90 lines. sc. III.] THE COETENTIOX. 33 SCENE III. — London. A Hall of Justice, Enter King Henry and the Queen, DuTce Humphrey, the Duke of SuFEOLK, and the Duke of Buckingham, the Cardinal, and, Dame Elinor Cobham, led ivith the Officers ; and then enter to them the Duke of York, and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick."^ King. Stand forth, dame Elinor Cobham, Duchess of Gloster, and hear the sentence pronounced against thee for these treasons that thou hast committed against us, our states and peers. First, for thy heinous crimes, thou shalt two days in London do penance barefoot in the streets, with a white sheet about thy body, and a wax taper burning in thy hand. That done, thou shalt be banished for ever into the Isle of Man, there to end thy days ; and this is our sentence irrevocable. Away with her ! Elin. Even to my death, for I have lived too long, f [Exeunt some with Elinor. King. Grieve not, noble uncle, but be thou glad, In that these treasons thus are come to light, Lest God had poured his vengeance on thy head, For her offences that thou held’st so dear. Hum. Oh-, gracious Henry, give me leave awhile. To leave your grace, and to depart away. For sorrow’s tears hath gripped my aged heart, * Compare this with the Folio, where it it evident that Margery Jourdain and her satellites are introduced on the scene ; in fact modern editors print their names in the stage directions. No mention is made of them in the pre- sent scene of the old play, t Cf. Marlowe’s Edward II, v. 6,— * “ Q. Isab. Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived. 0 34 THE FIRST PART OF [act it. And make the fountains of mine eyes to swell ; And therefore, good my lord, let me depart. King. With all my heart, good uncle, when you please; Yet ere thou goest, Humphrey, resign thy staff, For Henry will be no more protected; The Lord shall be my guide, both for my land and me. Hum. My staff ? — ay, noble Henry, my life and all. My staff I yield as willing to be thine, As erst"^"^ thy noble father made it mine ; And even as willing at thy feet I leave it. As others would ambitiously receive it ; And long hereafter, when I am dead and gone. May honourable peace attend thy throne. King. Uncle Gloster, stand up and go in peace. No less beloved of us, than when Thou wert Protector over my land.f [Exit Gloster. Queen. Take up the staff, for here it ought to stand ; AVhere should it be, but in King Henry’s hand ? York. Please it, your majesty, this is the day That was appointed for the combatting / Between the armourer and his man, my lord. And they are ready when your grace doth please. King. Then call them forth, that they may try their rights. Enter at one door the Armourer and his Neighbours, drink- ing to him so much, that he is drunken, and he enters with * Q, 1619 reads, e’er, which is the reading of the Folio, t Q. 1619 reads* “ over this my land” ; the reading in the text agrees with the Folio. 6C. III.] TUB COyTEKfTlON. 35 a drum before Jiirn^ and his staff and a sandbag fastened to it;* and at the oilier door his Man, 'with a drum and sandbag y and Prentices drinhing to Mm, 1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Hornor,f I drink to you in a cup of sack, aad fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough. 2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of Charneco. 3 Neigh. Here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour, drink and be merry, and fear not your man. Arm. Let it come ; i’ faith, I’ll pledge you all, and a fig for Peter. 1 Pren, Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid. 2 Pren. Here, Peter, here’s a pint of claret wine for thee. 3 Pren. And here’s a quart for me, and be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master ; fight for credit of the prentices. Peter. I thank you all, but I’ll drink no more ; here, Pobin, and if I die, here I give thee my hammier ; and Will, thou shaft have my apron ; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. Oh, Lord, bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already. Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. Sirrah, what ’s thy name ? Peter. Peter, forsooth. Sal. Peter, what more ? * According to the old law of duels persons of inferior rank fought with an ebon staff or batoon, to the further end of which was fixed a bag crammed hard with sand. Warbueton. t Folio, Horner. £6 THE FIRST PART OF [act II. Peter, Thump. Sal, Thump ? then see that thou thump thy master. Arm, Here’s to thee, neighbour, fill all the pots again, for before we fight, look you, I will tell you my mind,* for I am come hither as it were of my man’s instigation, to prove myself an honest man, and Peter a knave ; and so have at you, Peter, with downright blows, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart. Peter, Law you now, I told you he’s in his fence already. [AZam^, and Peter hits him on the head and fells him. Arm, Hold, Peter, I confess. Treason, treason ! [He dies, Peter, Oh, God, I give thee praise ! [He hneels down, Pren. Ho, well done, Peter ! God save the king ! King, Go take hence that traitor from our sight. For by his death we do perceive his guilt ; And God in justice hath revealed to us. The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, "Which he had thought to have murthered wrongfully. — Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. f [Exeunt omnes, SCENE IV. — London. A Street, Enter Duhe Humphrey and his Men in mourning cloaks. Hum. Sirrah, what’s o’clock ? Serving, Almost ten, my lord. Hum, Then is that woful hour hard at hand, * The first part of this speech is not in the Folio, and the remainder is given very differently : Bevis of Southampton is not mentioned, but Steevens, with- out authority, prints it in his Shakespeare. t This scene in the Folio has 108 lines. sc. IV.] THE CONTENTION. 37 That my poor lady should come by this way, In shameful penance wand’ring in the streets. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind a-brook The abject people gazing on thy face, With envious looks laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy proud chariot- wheels. When thou didst' ride in triumph through the streets. Enter Dame Elinor Cobham barefoot, and a icJiite sheet about her, with a wax candle in her hand, and verses wriU ten on her bach and pinned on, and accompanied loith the Sheriffs of London and Sir John Stanley, and Officers with bills and halberts,'^ Serving, My gracious lord, see where my lady comes ! Please it your grace, we’ll take her from the sheriffs. Hum, I charge you, for your lives, stir not a foot, Nor offer once to draw a weapon here. But let them do their office as they should. Elin, Come you, my lord, to see my open shame ? Ah, Gloster, now thou doest penance too ! See how the giddy people look at thee. Shaking their heads, and pointing at thee here ; Go, get thee gone, and hide thee from their sights. And in thy pent-up study rue thy shame. And ban thine enemies : — ah, mine and thine ! Hum, Ah, Nell, sweet Nell, forget this extreme grief, And bear it patiently to ease thy heart. Elin, Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself ; For whilst I think I am thy wedded wife, Thef thought of this doth kill my woful heart. * Compare Folio and modern editions of the play, t From Q. 1619 ; Q. 1594 reads then. 38 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT II. The ruthless flints doth cut my tender feet, And when I start the cruel people laugh, And bid me [be] advisW how I tread ; And thus, with burning taper in my hand. Mailed up in shame, with papers on my back, — Ah, Gloster, can I endure this and live ? Sometime I’ll say I am Duke Humphrey’s wife, And he a prince. Protector of the land ; But so he ruled, and such a prince he was. As he stood by whilst I, his f6rlorn duchess. Was led with shame, and made a laughing-stock To every idle rascal follower. Hum, My lovely Nell, what wouldst thou have me do ? Should I attempt to rescue thee from hence, I should incur the danger of the law, And thy disgrace would not be shadowed so. Elin, Be thou mild and stir not at my disgrace. Until the axe of death hang o’er thy head, As shortly it will be ; for Suffolk, — he The new-made duke, that may do all in all With her that loves him so, and hates us all, And impious York, and Beaufort, that false priest. Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings. And fly thee how thou canst,^ they will entangle thee. Enter a Herald of Arms, Her, I summon your grace unto his highness’ parlia- ment, holden at Saint Edmund’s-bury, the first of the next month. Hum, A parliament, and our consent never craved * The reading: of Q 1619 and the Folio : Q. 1504 reads, can. sc. IV.] THE CONTENTION, 39 therein before? This is sudden! — Well, we will be there. \Exit Herald. Master sheriff, I pray proceed no further against my lady than the course of law extends. Slier. Please it your grace, my office here doth end, and I must deliver her to Sir John Stanley, to be con- ducted into the Isle of Man. Hum. Must you, Sir J ohn, conduct my lady ? Stan, Ay, my gracious lord, for so it is decreed. And I am so commanded by the king. Hum. I pray you. Sir John, use her ne’er the worse ; In that, I entreat you use her well. The world may smile again, and I may live To do you favour if you do it her. And so. Sir John, farewell. Elin. What gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell? Hum, Witness my bleeding heart ; — I cannot stay to soeak. [Exeunt Humphrey and Ms Men. Elin, Then is he gone, is noble Gloster gone ? And doth Duke Humphrey now forsake me too ? Then let me haste from out fair England’s bounds. — Come, Stanley, come, and let us haste away. Stan, Madam, let us go unto some house hereby. Where you may shift yourself before we go. Elin, Ah, good Sir John, my shame cannot be hid. Nor put away with casting of my sheet ; But come, let us go : master sheriff, farewell. Thou hast but done thy office as thou shouldst."^ [Exeunt omnes, * This scene in the Folio contains 115 lines. 40 THE FIRST PART OF [act XII. ACT III. SCENE I. — Bury Saint Edmunds. The Abbey, Enter to the Parliament. Enter two Heralds before y then the Dulce of BuciaNGHAM, and the Duke of Suffolk, and then the Duke of Yoek, and the Caudinal 0/ Winchester, and then the King and Queen, and then the Earl of Salisbury, and the Earl of Warwick. King. I wonder our uncle Gloster stays so long. Queen. Can you not see, or will you not perceive, How that ambitious duke doth use himself ? The time hath been, but now that time is past, That none so humble as Duke Humphrey was ; But now, let one meet him even in the morn. When every one will give the time of day. And he will neither move or speak to us. See you not how the Commons follow him In troops, crying, God save the good Duke Humphrey,” And, With long life Jesus preserve his grace !” Honouring him as if he were their king. Gloster is no little man in England, And if he list to stir commotions, ’Tis likely that the people will follow him. My lord, if you imagine there is no such thing. Then let it pass, and call it a woman’s fear. My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, Disprove my allegations if you can. And by your speeches, if you can disprove me, I will subscribe and say, I wronged the duke. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION, 41 Svf. Well hath your grace foreseen into that duke, And if I had been licensed first to speak, I think I should have told your grace’s tale. Smooth runs the brook whereas^^ the stream is deepest : No, no, my sovereign, Gloster is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. Enter the Duke of Somehset. King. Welcome, Lord Somerset, what news from France ? Som. Cold news, my lord, and this it is, — That all your holds and towns within those territories, Is overcome, my lord ; — all is lost. King. Cold news indeed. Lord Somerset ; But God’s will be done. York. Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England. f \_A8ide. Enter Duke Humphrey. Hum. Pardon, my liege, that I have stayed so long. Sif. Nay, Gloster, know that thou art come too soon, Unless thou prove more loyal than thou art ; We do arrest thee on high treason here. Hum. Why, Suffolk’s duke, thou shalt not see me blush. Nor change mine countenance for thine arrest. Whereof am I guilty ? Who are my accusers ? York. ’Tis thought, my lord, jour grace took bribes from France, And stopped the soldiers of their pay. By which his majesty hath lost all France. i.e.f Where. t See note f ante, p. 7. 42 THE FIRST PART OF [act III. Hum, Is it but tbougbt so ? and wbo are they tbat think so ? So God help me, as I have watched the night, Ever intending good for England still, That penny that ever I took from Erance, Be brought against me at the judgment day ; I never robbed the soldiers of their pay, — Many a pound of mine own proper cost. Have I sent over for the soldiers’ wants. Because I would not rack the needy commons Car. In your protectorship you did devise Strange torments for offenders, by which means England hath been defamed by tyranny. Hum. Why, ’tis well known that whilst I was Protector, Pity was all the fault that was in me ; A murtherer or foul felonous^ thief, That robs and murthers silly passengers, I tortured above the rate of common law. Svf. Tush, my lord, these be things of no account. But greater matters are laid unto your charge : I do arrest thee on high treason here. And commit thee to my good lord Cardinal, Until such time as thou canst clear thyself. King. Good uncle, obey to his arrest, I have no doubt but thou shalt clear thyself ; My conscience tells me thou art innocent. Hum. Ah, gracious Henry, these days are dangerous, And would my death might end these miseries. And stay their moods for good King Henry’s sake ; But I am made the prologue to their play. i.e. Felonious. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 43 And thousands more must follow after me, That dread not yet their lives’ destruction. Suffolk’s hateful tongue blabs his heart’s malice, Beaufort’s fiery eyes show his envious mind, Buckingham’s proud looks bewray his cruel thoughts,’*^ And doggM York, that levels at the moon,f Whose overweaning arm I have held back, All you have joined to betray me thus ; And you, my gracious lady and sovereign mistress, Causeless have laid complaints upon my head ; I shall not want false witnesses enough, That so amongst you, you may have my life. The proverb, no doubt, will be well performed, — A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.J Suf, Doth he not twit our sovereign lady here, As if that she, with ignominious wrong, Had suborned or hired some to swear against his life ? Queen, Ay, but I can give the loser leave to speak. Hum. Bar truer spoke than meant, — I lose indeed ; — Beshrew the winners’ hearts, they play me false. Bug. He’ll wrest the sense and keep us here all day ; My lord of Winchester, see him sent away. Car. Who’s wdthin, there ? Take in Duke Humphrey, And see him guarded sure within my house. Hum. Oh, thus King Henry casts away his crutch, * Here some curious transpositions occur in the Folio play, which reads, “ Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart’s malice, And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate : Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue The envious load that lies upon his heart. ” \ i.e. Aspires to something beyond his reach ; “ reaches at the moon,” it the Folio reading. X In the Folio this speech is expanded to 38 lines. 44 THE FIE ST PAET GF [act III. Before his legs can bear his body up, And puts his watchful shepherd from his side, Whilst wolves stand snarling who shall bite him first. Farewell, my sovereign, long mayst thou enjoy, Thy father’s happy days, free from annoy. [Exeunt Humpiibey iilth the Cardinals Men. King. My lords, what to your wisdoms shall seem best, Do and undo, as if ourself were here. Queen. What, will your highness leave the parliament ? King. Ay, Margaret ; my heart is hilled with grief.’’^ Where I may sit and sigh in endless moan. For who’s a traitor ? Gloster he is none. [Exeunt King, Salisbtjby and Wabwick. Queen. Then sit we down again : my lord cardinal, Suffolk, Buckingham, York, and Somerset, Let us consult of proud Duke Humphrey’s fall : — - In mine opinion it were good he died. For safety of our king and commonwealth. Svf. And so think I, madam ; for, as you know, If our King Henry had shook hands with death, Duke Humphrey then would look to be our king : And it may be by policy he works. To bring to pass the thing which now we doubt ; The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb ; * Form the want of sense and connection between this and the next line I suspect something has been emitted either by the compositor or the pirate- botcher who took down the play during representation, and afterwards vamped it for the press. Some sense may be be made of the passage by trans- posing the second and third words of the second line, and printing it thus “ Ay, Margaret ; my heart is killed with grief. Where may 1 sit and sigh in endless moan ? For who’s a traitor? Gloster he is none.” The same speech in the Folio extends to 25 lines, q.v. BC. I.] THE CONTENTION. 45 But if we take him ere he do the deed, We should not question if that he should live. No ! Let him die, in that he is a fox, Lest that in living he offend us more.* Car. Then let him die before the, commons know. For fear that they do rise in arms for him. York. Then do it suddenly, my lords. Suf. Let that be my lord Cardinal’s charge, and mine. Car, Agreed, for he’s already kept within my house. Enter a Messenger. f Queen. How now, sirrah, what news ? Mes. Madam, I bring you news from Ireland ; The wild O’Neal, my lords, is up in arms. With troops of Irish kerns;]; that, uncontrolled, § Doth plant themselves within the English pale,|| And burn and spoil the country as they go.^ Queen. What redress shall we have for this, my lords? York. ’Twere very good that my lord of Somerset, That fortunate champion, were sent over, To keep in awe these stubborn Irishmen ; * Q. 1619 gives this and the previous line to York. f F. “ Enter a Post.’* X Light-armed Irish foot-soldiers. § Cf. Marlowe’s Edward II . , ii. 2,— “ The wild b’Neal, with swarms of Irish kerns, Live uncontrolled within the English pale.’* 11 The term pale was applied to that portion of Ireland to which, for some centuries after its invasion by the English under Henry II. in 1172, the do- minion of the latter was confined. The limits of the pale seldom extended beyond the modern province of Leinster, and were frequently much less. IF This line is misplaced in Q. 1594, being in York’s next speech, thus— ,, That fortunate champion were sent over. And burns and spoils the country,” etc. but the line clearly ought to come at the end of the Messenger’s speech, and it is put there in Q. 1600, and 1619. * 46 TJSB FmST PART OF [act III. He did so much good when he was in France. Som, Had York been there with all his far fetched Policies, he might have lost as much as I. Yorh, Ay, York would have lost his life before That France should have revolted from England’s rule. Som, Ay, so thou might’ st, and yet have governed worse than I. Yorlc. What, worse than nought ? then a shame take all! Som. Shame on tlij^self, that wisheth shame ! Queen. Somerset, forbear ; good York, be patient ; And do thou take in hand to cross the seas, With troops of arm fed men to quell the pride Of those ambitious Irish that rebel. York. Well, madam, sith your grace is so content, Let me have some bands of chosen soldiers, And York shall try his fortune against those kerns. Queen. York, thou shalt. My lord of Buckingham, Let it be 37’our charge to muster up such soldiers As shall sufiB.ce him in these needful wars. Bue. Madam, I will, and levy such a band, As soon shall overcome those Irish rebels : But, York, where shall those soldiers stay^ for thee ? York. At Bristowf I will expect them ten days hence. Buc. Then thither shall they come, and so farewell. [Exit Buc. York. Adieu, my lord of Buckingham. Queen. Suffolk, remember what you have to do. And you, lord Cardinal, concerning Duke Humphrey ; * The quartos of 1600 read “ gainst those kerns,” that of 1619, “ And York shall try his fortunes *gainst those kerns.” t i.e. Bristol. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 47 ^Twere good that you did see to it in time : Come, let us go, that it may be performed. [Exeunt omnes, Manet York. York. Now York, bethink thyself and rouse thee up Take time whilst it is offered thee so fair, Lest when thou wouldst thou canst it not attain ; ’Ihvas men I lacked, and now they give them me : And now whilst I am busy in Ireland, I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, Lender the title of John Mortimer,! To raise commotion, and by that means I shall perceive how the common people Do affect the claim and house of York ; Then if he have success in his affairs, From Ireland then comes York again. To reap the harvest which that coistrel sowed. Now if he should be taken and condemned, HeTl ne’er confess that I did set him on ; And therefore, ere I go, I’ll send him word, To put in practice and to gather head, That so soon as I am gone he may begin To rise in arms with troops of country swains. To help him to perform this enterprise ; And then Duke Humphrey, he well made away. None then can stop the light to England’s crown But York can tame and headlong pull them down.J [Exit, * This speech is considerably enlarged in the Folio play, t After this line, Q. 1619 contains the following line,— “ For he is like him every kind of way.»* which is not in either of the early editions or the Folio. X This scene in the Folio contains 386 lines. 48 THE FIB ST PABT OF [ACT III. SCENE II. — Bury Saint Edmunds. A room in the Palace Then the curtains being drawn, Duke Humphuey is dis- covered in his bed, and two men lying on his breast and smothering him in his bed. And then enter the DuTce of Suffolk to them,^ Suf, How now, sirs, what, have you dispatched him ? 1 Man, Ay, my lord, he ’s dead, I warrant you. Suf, Then see the clothes laid smooth about him still, That when the king comes he may perceive No other but that he died of his own accord. 2 Man, All things is handsome now, my lord. Suf, Then draw the curtains again, and get you gone, And you shall have your firm reward, anon. [Exeunt Murtherers, Then enter theKmo and Queen, the Duke o/ B uckingham!, and Duke of Somerset, and the Cardinal. King. My lord of Suffolk, go call our uncle Gloster ; Tell him this day we will that he do clear himself. Suf. I will, my lord. [Exit, King, And, good my lords, proceed No further against our uncle Gloster, Than by just proof you can affirm ; Eor as the sucking child or harmless lamb. So is he innocent of treason to our state. * In the simplicity of our old stage, the different apartments were only separated by a curtain. The curtain which hangs in the front of the present stage, drawn up by lines and pullies, was an apparatus then not known. At the time our play was acted, the curtains opened in the middle, and were drawn backwards and forwards on an iron rod. Halliwell-Phillipps. sc, II.] THE CONTENTION, 49 Be-enter Suffolk. How now, Suffolk, where ’s our uncle ? Svf. Dead in his bed, my lord ; Gloster is dead ! [The 'KmGc falls in a swooni^^ Queen. Ay me, the king is dead ! Help, help, my lords! Suf. Comfort, my lord ; gracious Henry, comfort. King. What, doth my lord of Suffolk bid me comfort? Came he even now to sing a raven’s note. And thinks he that the chirping of a wren. By crying comfort through a hollow voice, Can satisfy my griefs, or ease my heart ? Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight. For even in thine eyeballs murther sits ; — Yet do not go. Come, basilisk. And kill the silly gazer with thy looks. Queen. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus. As if that he had caused Duke Humphrey’s death ? The duke, and I too, you know, were enemies. And you had best say that I did murther him. King. Ah, w^oe is me, for wretched Gloster’s death I Queen. Be woe for me more wretched than he was If What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face ! I am no loathsome leper ; look on me : Was I for this nigh wracked upon the sea. And thrice by awkward winds driven back from Eng- land’s bounds ? What might it bode, but that well-foretelling Winds said, Seek not a scorpion’s nest.”f * Old copies, The King falls in a sound.” 1 That is, Let not woe he to thee for Gloster, but for me. Johnson. X This speech is expanded to 49 lines in the Folio play. D 50 THE FIRST PART OF [act iir. Enter the Earls o/ W arwick and Salisbury. War. My lord, the commons, like an angry hive of bees,* E-un up and down caring not whom they sting. For good Duke Humphrey’s death, whom they report To be murthered by Suffolk and the Cardinal here. King. That he is dead, good Warwick, is too true. But how he died God knows, not Henry. War. Enter his privy chamber, my lord, and view the body. Good father, stay you with the rude multitude till I return. Sal. I will, son. [Exit Sal. [Warwick draws the curtains , and shows Duke Humphrey in his hed. King. Ah, uncle Gloster, heaven receive thy soul ! Farewell poor Henry’s joy, now thou art gone. War. Now by His soul that took our shape upon him. To free us from his father’s dreadful curse, I am resolved that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice famous duke. Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue ; What instance gives Lord Warwick for these words ? War. Oft have I seen a timely-partedf ghost, C)f ashy semblance, pale and bloodless ; But, lo, the blood is settled in his face, More better coloured than when he lived ; His well-proportioned beard made rough and stern, * Q. 1619, “ an hungry hive of bees.” F. agrees with the old play, t A timely parted ghost means a body that has become inanimate in the common course of nature ; to which violence has not brought a timeless end. So says Malone ; some editors explain timely parted as meaning recently. sc. II.] th:e contention. 51 His fingers spread abroad^ as one tbat gasped for life, Yet was by strength surprised : the least of these are probable, It cannot choose but he was murtherMf Queen, Suffolk and the Cardinal had him in charge. And they I trust, sir, are no murtherers. War, Ay, but ’twas well known they were not his friends ; And ’tis well seen he found some enemies. Car, But have you no greater proofs than these ? War, Who sees a heifer dead and bleeding fresh. And sees hard by a butcher with an axe. But will suspect ’twas he that made the slaughter ? Who finds the partridge in the puttock’sj nest, But will imagine how the bird came there. Although the kite soar with unbloody beak ? — Even so suspicious is this tragedy. Queen, Are you the kite, Beaufort ? where ’s your talons ? Is Suffolk the butcher ? where ’s his knife ? Suf, I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men, But here’s a vengeful sword rusted with ease,§ That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart. That slanders me with murther’s crimson badge. Say, if thou dare, proud lord of Warwickshire, That I am guilty in Duke Humphrey’s death. [Exit Cardinal. *i.e. Outstretched. t Cf. A Midsummer NighVs Dreamy iii. 2 ; — “ It cannot be but thou hast murdered him.** § Q. 1594, case ; the later quartos and Folio read ease. \ A kite. 52 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT iir. War, What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? Queen, He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty hundred times. War. Madam, be still; with reverence may I say it. That every word you speak in his defence, Is slander to your royal majesty. Suf. Blunt witted lord, ignoble in thy words. If ever lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took unto her blameful bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art. And never of the Nevil’s noble race. War. But that the guilt of murther bucklers thee. And I should rob the death&man of his fee. Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames. And that my sovereign’s presence makes me mute, I would, false murtherous coward, on thy knees Make thee crave pardon for thy passed speech, And say it was thy mother that thou meant’ st. That thou thyself was born in bastardy ; And after all this fearful homage done. Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,^ Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men. Suf. Thou shouldst be waking whilst I shed thy blood. If from this presence thou dare go with me. * This line is rather different in Q. 1619, which reads, — “ Give thee thy hire, and send tnee down to hell. F. agrees with the text as above. sc. II.] THE CONTENTION. 53 War. Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence. [Warw^iok pulls him out. Exeunt Warwick and SuFFOLk and then all the commons within cry , — Down with Suffolk ! Down with Suffolk !” And then enter again Duke 0/ Suffolk and Warwick icith their weapons drawn. King. Why, how now, my lords ? Suf. The traitorous Warwick with the men of Bury, Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. Y^he commons agam cry , — ^^Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk !’’ And then enter from them, the Earl of Salisbury. Sal. My lord, the commons made you word by me, That unless false Suffolk here be done to death. Or banished fair England’s territories, That they will err from your highness’ person ; They say by him the good Duke Humjphrey died. They say by him they fear the ruin of the realm ; And therefore if you love your subjects’ weal. They wish you to banish him from forth the land.’^ Suf. Indeed, ’tis like the commons, rude unpolished hinds. Would send such message to their sovereign ; But you, my lord, were glad to be employed. To try how quaintf an orator you were ; But all the honour Salisbury hath got. Is, that he was the lord ambassador Sent from a sort of tinkers^ to the king. * This speech in F. contains 28 lines. j Skilful fit ti.e. A company of tinkers. 54 THE FIRST PART OF [act nr. [The commons cry, — answer from the King, my lord of Salisbury.” King. Good Salisbury, go back again to them, Tell them we thank them all for their loving care, And had I not been cited thus by their means, M^^self had done it : therefore, here I swear. If Suffolk be found to breathe in any place. Where I have rule, but three days more, he dies. [Exit Sal. Queen. Oh, Henry, reverse the doom of gentle Suffolk’s banishment ! King. Ungentle queen to call him gentle Suffolk ; Speak not for him, for in England he shall not rest ; If I say, I may relent ; but if I swear, it is irrevocable. Come, good Warwick, and go thou in with me. For I have great matters to impart to thee. [Exeunt King and War. Manet Queen and Sue. Queen. Hell-fire and vengeance go along with you ! There ’s two of you, the devil make the third.^ — Fie, womanish man, canst thou not curse thy enemies ? Suf. A plague upon them ! Wherefore should I curse them ? Could curses kill as do the mandrake’s groans, I would invent as many bitter terms, f Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth. With twice so many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced envyj in her loathsome cave. * Between this and the next line the Folio introduces a speech by Suffolk of two lines ; then Queen Margaret goes on, “ Fie, womanish man,” etc. which condenses the two lines of the Folio, t F. “ as bitter-searching terms.” t Q. 1594, •* leaue fast enuy ;” the later quartos and Folio read as above. sc. II.] THE CONTENTION. 55 My tongue sliould stumble in mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint, My hair be fixed on end, as one distraught. And every joint should seem to curse and ban ; And now methinks my burdened heart would break. Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink. Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest thing they taste ; Their sweetest shade, a grove of Cyprus trees Their softest touch, as smart as lizard’s stings ; Their music frightful like the serpent’s hiss. And boding screech-owls make the concertf full ! All the foul terrors in dark seated hell — Queen. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torments thyself. Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me cease Now by this ground that I am banished from. Well could I curse away a winter’s night. And standing naked on a mountain top. Where biting cold would never let grass grow. And think it but a minute spent in sport. Queen, No more. Sw^eet Suffolk, hie thee hence to France, Or live where thou w ilt wdthin this world’s globe. I’ll have an Iris§ that shall find thee out ; And long thou shalt not stay, but I’ll have thee repealed. Or venture to be banishM myself. Oh, let this kiss be printed in thy hand. That when thou see’st it thou mayst think on me. Away, I say, that I may feel my grief, * Here the Folio adds the following line : — Their chief est prospect, murdering basilisks.” t Q. 1594, consort. j F. reads, leave. § Q. 1594, Irish. This line in F. is placed further on, 1. 407. 56 TUB FIRST PART OF [ACT III. For it is nothing whilst thou standest here.^ Suf, Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished ; Once by the king, but three times thrice by thee. Enter VAUX.f Queen, How now, whither goes Yaux so fast ? Vaux, To signify unto his majesty. That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death ; Sometimes he raves and cries as he were mad. Sometimes he calls upon Duke Humphrey’s ghost. And whispers to his pillow as to him ; And sometime he calls to speak unto the king ; And I am going to certify unto his grace. That even now he called aloud for him. Queen. Go, then, good Yaux, and certify the king. [Exit Yaux. Oh, what is worldly pomp ! all men must die. And woe am I for Beaufort’s heavy end. But why mourn I for him, whilst thou art here ? Sweet Suffolk, hie thee hence to France, For if the king do come, thou sure must die. Suf. And if I go, I cannot live ; but here to die, What were it else but like a pleasant slumber In thy lap ? Here could I breathe my soul into the air,J As mild and gentle as the new-born babe, ^ This speech in F. is expanded to 18 lines. Eight lines are also added to Suffolk’s next speech, t Q. 1594, Vause. J Cf. Fair Em^ i. 3, — “But let them breathe their souls into the air.” sc. II.] THE CONTENTION. 57 That dies with mother’s dug between his lips ; Where from thy sight I should be raging mad, And call for thee to close mine eyes, Or with thy lips to stop my dying soul. That I might breathe it so into thy body. And then it lived in sweet Elysium. By thee to die, were but to die in jest ; From thee to die, were torment more than death. Oil, let me stay ! befall what may befall. Queen. Oh, might’ st thou stay with safety of thy life. Then shouldst thou stay ; but heavens deny it. And therefore go, but hope ere long to be repealed. Suf. I go. Queen. And take my heart with thee. hisses him. Suf. A jewel locked into the wofull’st cask, That ever yet contained a thing of worth ! Thus like a spitted bark, so sunder we ; This way fall I to death. [Exit Suf. Queen. This way for me."^ [Exit. SCENE III. — London. Cardmai! Beaufort’s 5ed-c/zaw6er Enter King and Salisbury, and then the curtains he draicn, and the Cardinal is discovered in his hed, raving and star- ing as if he were mad. Car. Oh, death, if thou wilt let me live But one whole year. I’ll give thee as much gold As will purchase such another island. King. Oh, see, my lord of Salisbury, how he is troubled. Lord cardinal, remember Christ must save thy soul. * This scene in the Folio play contains 414 lines. 58 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT III. Car, Why, died he not in his bed ? What would you have me do, then ? Can I make men live whether they will or no ? Sirrah, go fetch me the strong poison which The Apothecary sent me. — Oh, see where Duke Humphrey’s ghost doth stand. And stares me in the face ! Look, look ! comb down His hair ! So, now he’s gone again. Oh, oh, oh ! Sal. See how the pangs of death doth gripe his heart. . King. Lord cardinal, if thou diest assured of heavenly bliss. Hold up thy hand and make some sign to us.^' [The Caedixal dies. Oh, see, he dies and makes no sign at all. 0 God, forgive his soul ! Sal. So bad an end did never none behold ; But as his death, so was his life in all. King. Forbear to judge, good Salisburj^, forbear, — For God will judge us all. Go take him hence. And see his funerals be performed. f [Exeunt omnes. * Cf. The Troublesome Reign of King John, Pt.2, v. 1,— . “ In token of thy faith, And sign thou diest the servant of the Lord, Lift up thy hand that we may witness here, Thou diest the servant of our Saviour Christ.” t This scene in the Folio contains 33 lines. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 59 ACT IV. SCENE I. — Kent. The Seashore near Dover. Alarms within, and then chambers he discharged, like as it were a fight at sea. And then enter the Captain'^ of the ship, and the Master, and the Master^s Mate, and the Duke of Suffolk disguised, and others with him Water W mCKMORE.f Cap. Bring forth these prisoners that scorned to yield ; Unlade their goods with speed and sink their ship. Here, master, this prisoner I give to you. This other, the master’s mate shall have ; And Water Whickmore, thou shalt have this man ; And let them pay their ransoms ere they pass. Suf, Water! [JEestarteth. Water, How now ! what, dost fear me ? Thou shalt have better cause anon. Suf It is thy name affrights me, not thyself. I do remember well a cunning wizard told me That by Water I should die : Yet let not that make thee bloody-minded ; Thy name being rightly sounded. Is Gualter, not Water. Water, Gualter or Water, all ’s one to me ; I am the man must bring thee to thy death. Suf, I am a gentleman, — look on my ring ; Eansom me at what thou wilt, it shall be paid. * Folio, “ Lieutenant modern editions, however, follow the old play, t Folio, “ Walt:r Whitmore.” These directions should he compared with the Folio. 60 THE FIRST FART OF [act IV. Water, I lost mine eye in boarding of the ship, And therefore ere I, merchant-like, sell blood for gold, Then cast me headlong down into the sea. 2 Pris, But what shall our ransoms be ? Mas. A hundred pounds apiece ; either pay that or die. 2 Pm. Then save our lives ; it shall be paid. Water. Come, sirrah, tliy life shall be the ransom I will have. Suf. Stay, villain, thy prisoner is a prince ; The Duke of Sufiolk, — William de la Poole. Cap. The Duke of Suffolk folded up in rags ! Suf. Ay, sir, but these rags are no part of the duke ; Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I Cap. Ay, but Jove was never slain as thou shalt be. Suf. Base jady groom, f King Henry’s blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Cannot be shed by such a lowly swain ; I am sent ambassador for the queen to Prance, I charge thee waft me ’cross the Channel safe. Cap. I’ll waft thee to thy death. — Go, Water, take him hence, And on our long-boat’s side, chop off his head. Suf. Thou dar’st not, for thine own. Cap. Yes, Poole. J Suf Poole ! Chp. Ay, Poole, puddle, kennel, sink, and dirt. I’ll stop that yawning mouth of thine. * This line is omitted in F. t A low fellow fit only to attend up3n horses. Malone.— T his line in F. is given to the Lieutenant, and reads,— “ Obscure and lowsie swain, King Henry’s blood,” etc. X This and the next speech not in F. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 61 Those lips of thine that so oft have kissed The queen, shall sweep the ground ; and thou That smirdst at good Duke Humphrey’s death, Shalt live no longer to infect the earth. Suf. This villain being but captain of a pinnace, Threatens more plagues than mighty Abradas, The great Macedonian pirate ;f — Thy wmrds add fury and not remorse J in me. Cap, Ay, but my deeds shall stay thy fury soon. Suf. Hast not thou waited at my trencher, When we have feasted with Queen Margaret ? Hast not thou kissed thy hand, and held my stirrup ? And barehead plodded by my footcloth mule. And thought thee happy when I smiled on thee ? This hand hath writ in thy defence ; Then shall I charm thee hold thy lavish tongue ? Cap. Away with him, Water, I say, and off with his head. 1 Pris. Good my lord, entreat him mildly for your life. Suf. First let this neck stoop to the axe’s edge. Before this knee do bow to any. Save to the God of heaven, and to my king : Suffolk’s imperial tongue cannot plead * This speech, which has but six lines, is expanded to 34 lines in the Folio. •t The reading of the Folio diifers materially here : This villain here, Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more Than Bargains the strong Illyrian pirate.” Greene mentions, in Penelope's Web, printed in 1688, “ Abradas the great Macedonian pirate.” “ Bargains, a pirate on the high sea of Illyria,” is also mentioned by two early writers. See the notes of the commentators on the passage. Xi.e. Pity. The construction is — ^Your words rather excite my anger than solicit me to pity. 62 THE FIRST PART OF [act IV. To such a jady groom. Water. Come, come, why do we let him speak? I long to have his head for ransom of mine eye. Suf. A sworder and bandetto slave,^ Murthered sweet Tully ; Brutus’ bastard-hand Stabbed J ulius Csesar, And Suffolk dies by pirates on the seas. [Exeunt Suifolk and Water. Cajp. Off with his head and send it to the queen, And ransomless this prisoner shall go free, To see it safe delivered unto her. Come, let ’s go.f [Exeunt. SCENE 11.— Blackheath. Enter two of the Eebels with long staves. George. Come away, Nick, and put a longstaff in thy pike and provide thyself, for I can tell thee they have been up this two days. Nick. Then they had more need to go to bed now ; bnt, sirrah George, what ’s the matter ? George. Why, sirrah. Jack Cade the dyer of Ashford here, he means to turn this land and set a new nap on it. Niclz. Ay, marry, he had need so, for ’tis grown thread- bare ; ’t was never merry world with us, since these gentlemen came up. George. I warrant thee, thou shalt never see a lord wear a leather apron now-a-days. * F. reads, — “A Roman sworder and banditto slave,”— i.e. Herennius a centurion, and Papilius Lacnas, a tribune of the soldiers. Steevens. t This scene in the Folio play contains 107 lines. sc. II.] THE CONTENTION. 63 Niclc. But, sirrah, who, comes more beside Jack Gade ? George. Why, there ’s Dick the butcher, and Eobin the^saddler, and Will that came a- wooing to our Nan last Sunday, and Harry and Tom, and Gregory that should have your Parnell, and a great sort^ more is come from Eochester, and from Maidstone and Canterbury, and all the towns here abouts, and we must ail be lords or squires as soon as Jack Cade is king. Niclc. Hark, hark, I hear the drum ; they be coming. Enter Jack Cade, Dick [the] hutch er, Eobin, Will, Tom, Habry and the rest, with long staves. Cade, Proclaim silence. All: Silence ! Cade. I, Jack Cade, so named for my valliancy,— Dich. Or rather for stealing a cade of sprats. f Cade. My father was a Mortimer. NicTc. He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer. Cade. My mother came of the Erases. J Will. She was a pedlar’s daughter, indeed, and sold many laces. Bobin. And now being not able to occupy her furred pack,§ she washeth bucks|i up and down the country. Cade. Therefore, I am honourably born. Harry. Ay, for the field is honourable, for he was born under a hedge, for his father had no house but the Cage. * i.e. A set or company, t A cask or barrel containing about 500. J Q. 1619 reads, Lacies ; the Folio, Plantagenet. § A wallet or knapsack of skin with the hair outward. JOHNSON. II A term used for a quantity of linen washed at once. Cf. Locrine, ll. 1.— The word is used in a different sense in The Puritan 1 1. 1, q.v. 64 THE FIRST FART OF [act IV. Cade, I am able to endure much. George. That ’s true ; I know he can endure any- thing, for I have seen him whipped two market days together. Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. Will. He need net fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. Dich. But methinks he should .fear the fire, being so often burnt in the hand for stealing of sheep. Cade, Therefore be brave, for ^^our captain is brave, and vows reformation ; you shall have seven half-penny loaves for a penny, and the three hoopedf pot shall have ten hoops, and it shall be felony to drink small beer and if I be a king, as king I will be. All. God save your majesty ! Cade. I thank you, good people ; you shall ail eat Mid drink of my score, and go all in my livery, and we’ll have no writing but the score and the tally, and there shall be no laws but such as come from my mouth. Dick. We shall have sore laws, then, for he was thrust into the mouth the other day. George. Ay, and stinking law, too, for his breath stinks so, that one cannot abide it.J Enter Will with the Clerk of Chatham. Will. Oh, captain, a prize ! Cade. Who ’s that. Will ? * Mr. Halliwell-Phillips rightly suggests [Exit, ought to be placed here, as Will soon afterwards enters with the Clerk of Chatham. t Quart pots were usually bound with three hoops, but Cade promises they shall be increased to ten, i.e. increase the measure. X The last two speeches, slightly modified, appear in iv. 7 of the Folio play • a curious transposition. ‘ * sc. rii] THE CONTENTION. 65 Will, The Clerk of Chatham ; he can write and read^ and cast account ; I took him setting of boys’ copies, and he has a book in his pocket with red letters. Cade. Zounds,^' he ’s a conjurer ! bring him hither.— Now, sir, what[’s] your name ? Cleric. Emanuel, sir, and it shall please you. Diclc. It will go hard with you, I can tell you, for they use to write that o’ th’ top of letters.f Cade. And w hat do you use to write your name ? or do you as ancient forefathers have done, use the score and the tally ? Cleric. Nay, true sir, I praise God I have been so well brought up, that I can write mine own name. Cade. Oh, he ’s confessed ; go hang him w ith his pen and inkhornj about his neck. [Exeunt one with the Clerk. Enter Tom.§ Tom. Captain, news, news ! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are coming wdth the king’s power, and mean to kill us all. Cade. Let them come, he ’s but a knight, is he ? Tom. No, no, he ’s but a knight. Cade. Why, then, to equal him. I’ll make myself knight. Kneel down, John Mortimer. [Cade kneels down. Eise up Sir John Mortimer. [Bises.] Is there any * Old copy, Sounes : see note ante, p. 6. t Cf. The Famous Victories of Henry V. iii. 3.— “ My lord of York, deliver him our safe conduct under our broad Emanuel.*' t Q. penny inkhorn, another instance of the scribe having misheard what was said. Q. 1619, and F. read as above, § F. Michael, E 66 THE FIRST PART OF [act IV. more of them that be knights ? Tom. Ay, his brother. \He TcnigJits Dick the butcher. Cade. Then kneel down Dick Butcher. [Dick hneels.^ Bise up Sir Dick Butcher. [Now sound up the drum. Enter Sir Humphrey Staieord and his Brother, with drum and Soldiers. Cade. As for these silken coated slaves, I pass not a pin ’tis to you, good people, that I speak. Staf. Why, countrymen, what mean you, thus in troops to follow this rebellious traitor. Cade ? Why, his father was but a bricklayer. Cade. Well, and Adam was a gardener;! what then? But I come of the Mortimers. Staf. Ay, the Duke of- York hath taught you that. Cade. The Duke of York ? nay, I learnt it myself ; for look you, BogerJ Mortimer, the Earl of March, mar- ried the Duke of Clarence’s daughter. Staf. Well, that’s true ; but what then ? Cade. And by her he had two children at a birth. Staf. That ’s false ! Cade. Ay, but I say ’tis true. All. Why, then ’tis true. Cade. And one of them was stolen away by a beggar woman, and that was my father, and I am his son, deny it and you can. Nick. Nay, look you> I know ’t was true, for his father * i.e. I care not a pin. t A similar thought is uttered by a kindred spirit, John Ball, in The Life and Death of Jack Straw, 1594, i. 1, — “ But when Adam delved and Eve span. Who was then a gentleman V* X Folio, Edmund. sc, 11.] THE CONTENTION, 67 built a chimney in my father’s house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify. . Cade, But, dost thou hear, Stafford ? tell the king that for his father’s sake, in whose time boys played at span- counter'^ with French crowns, I am content that he shall be king as long as he lives : marry, always provided I’ll be protector over him. Staf, Oh, monstrous simplicity ! Cade. And tell him we ’ll have the lord Say’s head, and the Duke of Somerset’s, for delivering up the dukedoms of Anjou and Maine, and selling the towns in France, by which means England hath been maimedf ever since, and gone as it were with a crutch, but that my puissance held it up. And, besides they can speak French, and therefore they are traitors. Staf. And how, I pr’ythee ? Cade. Why, the Frenchmen are our enemies, be they not ? and then can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good subject ? Answer me to that. Staf, Well, sirrah, wilt thou yield thyself unto the king’s mercy, and he will pardon thee and these, their outrages and rebellious deeds. Cade, Nay, bid the king come to me, and he will, and then I’ll pardon him ; or otherwise I’ll have his crown, tell him, ere it be long. Staf. Go, herald, proclaim in all the king’s towns, * A puerile game, supposed to be thus played : — One throws a counter, or piece of money, which the other wins, if he can throw another so as to hit it or lie within a span of it. Nares. The expression is found in the same scene of the Folio play, and no where else in Shakespeare. t F. reads mainedj and so, no doult, did the MS. of the old play ; Mr. Halli- well Phillipps thinks a pun was intended on “ Maine” of the previous line. 68 THE FIRST PART OF [act fV. That those that will forsake the rebel Cade, Shall have free pardon from his majesty. [Exeunt Stafford and his men. Cade. Come, sirs, Saint George for us and Kent.’^ [Exeunt omnes. SCENE III. — Another pari 0/ Elackheath. Alarums to the battle, and Sir IIumpiirey Stafford and his Brother is slain. Then enter Jack Cade again, and the rest. Cade. Sir Dick Butcher, thou hast fought to-day most valiantly, and knocked them down as if thou hadst been in thy slaughter-house : and thus I will reward thee. The Lent shall be as long again as it was ; thou shaft have license to kill for four-score and one a week. Drum, strike up, for now we ’ll march to London, for to-morrow I mean to sit in the king’s seat at Westminster.! [Exeunt omnes. SCENE ly. — London, A Room in the Palace. Enter the King reading a letter, and the Queen with the Duhe of Suffolk’s head, and the Lord Say loith others. King. Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother is slain. And the rebels march amain to London ; Go back to them, and tell thus, from me. I’ll come and parley with their general. Yet stay. I’ll read the letter once again. * This scene in F. contains 189 lines, t This scene in F. contains 17 lines. [Reads. fC, IV.] TUB CONTBNTION. 69 Lord Saj, Jack Cade hath solemnly vowed To have th}^ head. Say, Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. King, How now, madam, still lamenting and mourn- ing for Suffolk’s death ? I fear, my love, if I had been dead, thou wouldst not have mourned so much for me. Queen, No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. Enter a Messenger. Mes, Oh, fly, my lord, the rebels are entered South- wark, and have almost won the bridge, calling your grace an usurper, and that monstrous rebel Cade, hath sworn to crown himself king in Westminster ; therefore fly, my lord, and post to Kenilworth.^ King, Go bid Buckingham and Clifford gather An army up, and meet with the rebels. — Come, madam, let us haste to Kenilworth. Come on. Lord Say, go thou along with us, por fear the rebel Cade do find thee out. Say, My innocence, my lord, shall plead for me ; And therefore with your highness’ leave I’ll stay behind. King, Even as thou wilt, my Lord Say. — Come, madam, let us go.f [Exeunt omnes, * Q. 1594, Killingworth ; the old name for Kenilworth, t This scene in F. contains 63 lines. 70 THE FIT ST PATT OF [act IV. SCENE V. — The same. The Tower. Enter Lord Scales upon the Tower walls, walking. Enter three or four Citizens below. Scales. How now, is Jack Cade slain ? 1 Cit. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain ; for they have won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them. The Lord Mayor craveth aid of your honour from the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels. Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall command ; But I am troubled here with them myself : The rebels have attempted to win the Tower. But get you to Smithfield, and gather head, And thither I wilP send you Mathew Goffe. Fight for your king, your country and your lives ; And so farewell, for I must hence again. f [Exeunt. SCENE YI. — The same. Cannon Street. Enter J ack Cade and the rest, and strikes his Sword upon London Stone. Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city; and now, sit- ting upon London Stone, we command that the first year of our reign, the pissing conduitj run nothing but red wine. And now, henceforward, it shall be treason for any that calls me any otherwise than Lord Mortimer. * These words are transposed in Q. 1619. t This scene in F. contains 13 lines. ‘ t A small conduit near the Royal Exchange, so called in contempt or jocu larity from its running with a small stream. Its more respectable name was the conduit in Cornhill. It was set up in 1430.— Nares. sc. VI.] THE CONTENTION. 71 Enter a Soldier. Sol. Jack Cade I Jack Cade ! Cade. Zounds, knock him down. Mm. Dick. My lord, there’s an army gathered together into Smithfield. Cade. Come, then, let ’s go fight with them ; but first go on and set London bridge a-fire, and if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let’s away.^ [Exeunt. SCENE YII. — The same. Smithfield. Alarms, and then M athew Goffe is slain, and all the rest with him. Then enter Jack Cade again, and his company. Cade. So, sirs, now go some and pull down the Savoy ; others to the Inns of Court : down with them all ! Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship. Cade. Be it a lordship, Dick, and thou shalt have it for that word. Dick. That we burn all the records, and that all writing may be put down, and nothing used but the score and the tally. Cade. Dick, it shall be so, and henceforward all things shall be in common ; and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. Why, is ’t not a miserable thing that of the skin of an innocent lamb should parchment be made, and then wTth a little blotting over with ink, a man should undo himself ? Some say ’tis the bees that sting, but I say ’tis their wax, for I am sure I never sealed to any- * This scene in F. contains 17 lines. 72 THE FIRST PART OF [act IV. thing but once, and I was never mine own man since.^ Niclc, But when shall we take up those commodities which you told us of ? Cade, Marry, he that will lustily stand to it, shall go with me and take up these commodities following ; — Item, a gown, a kirtle, a petticoat, and a smock. Enter George, [with Lord Say.] George. My lord, a prize, a prize ! Here 's the Lord Say which sold the towns in France. Cade, Come hither, thou Say, thou George, f thou buckram lord. What answer canst thou make unto my mightiness, for delivering up the towns in France to monsieur bus mine cue,J the Dauphin of France ? And more than so, thou hast most traitorousl}^ erected a gram- mer school to infect the youth of the realm ; and against the king’s crown and dignity, thou hast built up a paper mill ; nay, it will be said to thy face that thou keepest men in thy house that daily read of books w ith red let- ters, and talk of a noun and a verb, and such abominable •words as no Christian ear is able to endure it. And besides all that, thou hast appointed certain justices of peace in every shire to hang honest men that steal for their living, and because they could not read, thou hast hung them up ; only for w liich cause they were most * In F. the latter part of this speech appears in iv. 3, q.v, t A pun is here attempted on Say’s name ; say being a kind of woollen stuff or serge. F. reads, “ Ah, thou Say^ thou serge" and the quibble on the word is clear. The shorthand botcher probably misheard the word serge^ hence the astounding reading in the text. X So in old copy ; F. has hosimecu a corruption of baisermycu, an Italian -word difficult of translation into our vernacular. sc. VII.] THE CONTENTION, 73 worthy to live, Thou ridest on a foot-cloth, dost thou not ? Say, Yes, what of that ? Cade, Marry, I say thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when an honester man than thyself goes in his hose and doublet. Say. You men of Kent, — All. Kent, what of Kent ? Say. Nothing but hona terra. Cade. Bonum terum ; zounds, what ’s that ? Dich. He speaks French. Will. No, ’tis Dutch. Bich. No, Tis Outtalian I know it well enough. Say. Kent, in the Commentries Csesar wrote. Termed it the civil’ st place of all this land ; Then, noble countrymen, hear me but speak : I sold not France, I lost not Normandy.f Cade. But wherefore dost thou shake thy head so ? Say. It is the palsy, and not fear that makes me. Cade. Nay, thou nod’st thy head, as who [should] J say, thou wilt be even with me, if thou get’st away ; but I’ll make sure enough now I have thee. Go take him to the standard in Cheapside, and chop off his head ; and then go to Mile-end-green, to Sir James Cromer his son-in- law, and cut off his head too, and bring them to me upon two poles presently. Away with him ! [Exeunt one or two with the Lord Say. * i.e. Italian. The last four speeches are not in F. t This speech in F. is very differently given ; a comparison with that and the text above suggests that the latter has been botched up. X Not in old copy ; but the word is necessary, and is found in F. 74 THE FIRST PART OF [act IV. There shall not a nobleman wear a head on his shoul- ders, but he shall pay me tribute for it. Nor there shall not a maid be married, but he shall fee^ to me for her maidenhead, or else I’ll have it myself. Marry, I willf that married men shall hold of me in capitey'l and that their wives shall be as free as heart can think, § or ton- gue can tell. Enter HoEiN. Bohin. Oh, captain, London bridge is a-fire ! Cade, Eun to Billingsgate and fetch pitch and flax, and squench it. Enter Etck and a Sergeant. Serg, Justice, justice ! I pray you, sir, let me have j ustice of this fellow here. Cade. Why, what has he done ? Serg. Alas, sir, he has ravished mj^ wife. Dick. Why, my lord, he would have ’rested me, and I went and entered my action in his wife’s paper house. Cade Dick, follow thy suit in her common place. You whoreson villain, you are a sergeant, you ’ll take any man by the throat for twelve pence, and ’rest a man when he ’s at dinner, and have him to prison ere the meat be out of his mouth. — Go, Dick, take him hence, cut out his tongue for cogging, hough him for running, and to conclude, brain him with his own mace.|| [Exit Dick uitJi the Sergeant. * Old copy, see ; HalliweU’s correction. f i.e. Command. t Old copy, capitie. “ A tenure in eapite. This is an equivoque on the preceding line.” Halliwbll. Dr. Johnson thought it too learned for Cade. § F. wish. It The lines from, Enter RoUn, to this point are not in F. THE CONTENTION, 75 sc. VII.] Enter two with the Lord Say’s head and Sir James Cromer’s upon two poles. So, come carry them before me, and at every lane’s end let them kiss together."^' \Exeunt, SCENE Vni.— Southwark. Enter the Dulce of BucKiNonAM, and Lord Clifford the Earl of Cumberland.f Clif. Why, countrymen and warlike friends of Kent, What means this mutinous rebellions, J That you in troops do muster thus yourselves Under the conduct of this traitor Cade, To rise against your sovereign lord and king ? Who mildly hath his pardon sent to you. If you forsake this monstrous rebel here. If honour be the mark whereat you aim. Then haste to France, that your forefathers won, And win again that thing which now is lost. And leave to seek your country’s overthrow. * This scene in F. contains 134 lines. 1 The opening of this scene has been left out, and the omission is significant in explaining the means by which the text was obtained. The Folio reads, “ Alarum and Retreat. Enter again Cade, and all his rabblement.” A speech of half a dozen lines by Cade follows, and then “ Enter Buckingham,” etc. , as in the old play. It is quite clear all this must have been in the stage copy and the author’s MS. , and therefore in the representation, for later on we find Cade and his followers on the scene although their entrance is not marked. The part was either lost in the hurry of the scene by the shorthand scribe, or the omission is due to the compositor ; the former is more probable, X Q. 1600 reads, — “ What means this mutinous rebellion ?” Q. 1619,— “ What means these mutinous rebellions ?” the line is not in the Folio. 76 TRE FIEST PART OF [act IV. All A Clifford ! A Clifford ! [They forsake Cade. Cade. Why, how now, will you forsake your general, And ancient freedom which you have possessed, To bend your necks under their servile yokes ? Who, if you stir, will straightways hang you up. But follow me, and you shall pull them down, And make them yield their livings to your hands. All. A Cade ! A Cade ! [They run to Cade again. Clif. Brave warlike friends, hear me but speak a word, Befuse not good whilst it is offered you ; The king is merciful, — then jdeld to him, And I mj’self will go along with you To Windsor castle, whereas the king abides, And on mine honour you shall have no hurt. All. A Clifford ! A Clifford ! God save the king!^ Cade. How like a feather is this rascal companv blown every w^ay ! but that they may see there wants no valiancy in me, my staff shall make way through the midst of you, and so a pox take you all ! [Re runs through thera with his staff, and fries away. Buc. Go some and make after him, and proclaim That those that bring the head of Cade, Shall have a thousand crowns for his labour. Come, march away.f [Exeunt omnes. * This scene in F. up to this point, varies considerably from the old play. t This scene in F. contains 70 lines. sc. IX.] THE CONTENTION. 77 SCENE IX.— Kenilworth Castle. Enter King Henry and the Queen, and Somerset. Kina. Lord Somerset, what news hear you of the rebel Cade? Som. This, my gracious lord ; that the Lord Say is done To death, and the city is almost sacked. Kmg. God’s will be done, for as He hath decreed. So must it be : and be it as He please. To stop the pride of those rebellious men. Queen. Had the noble Duke of Suffolk been alive. The rebel Cade had been suppressed ere this. And all the rest that do take part with him. Eydcr the Duhe of Buckingham, and Clifford, icith the rebels with halters about their necks. CUf. Long live King Henry, England’s lawTul king ! Lo, here, my lord, these rebels are subdued, And offer their lives before your highness’ feet. King. But tell me, Clifford, is their captain here ? Clif. No, my gracious lord, he is fled away, but pro- claimations are sent forth that he that can but bring his head shall have a thousand crowns. But may it please your majesty to pardon these their faults, that by that traitor’s means were thus misled. King. Stand up you simple men and give God praise. For you did take in hand you knov\^ not what. And go in peace, obedient to your king. And live as subjects, and you shall not want “Whilst Henry lives and wears the English crown. 78 THE FIE ST PART OF [act IV. All. God save the king ! God save the king ! King. Come, let us haste to London now with speed, That solemn processions may be sung. In laud and honour of the God of hea^^cn, And triumphs of this happy victory.f [Exeunt omnes. SCENE X. — Kent. Iden’s Garden. Enter Jack Cade at one door^ and at the other blaster Alexander IdenJ and his men, and Jack Cade lies down picking of herh^ and eaiing them. Iden. Good lord, how pleasant is this country life !§ This little land my father left me here. With my contented mind, serves me as well As all the pleasures in the Court can yield ; Nor would I change this pleasure for the Court. Cade. Zounds, here ’s the lord of the soil ! — Stand, villain, thou wilt betray me to the king, and get a thou- sand crowns for my head ; but ere thou go’st I’ll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, || and swallow^ my sword like a great pin. Iden. Why, saucy companion, why should I betray thee ? Is ’t not enough that thou hast broke my hedges. And entered into my ground without the leave * These four lines are not in F. , but 26 lines follow, of which there is no trace in the old play. t This scene in F. contains 49 lines. t Old copy, Eyden. § Before this speech the Folio has a soliloquy by Cade of 14 lines. II Q. 1594, Astridge ; 1619, estridge. Shakespeare uses estridge twice ; once in 1 Henry IV. iv. 1, and in Ant. A Cleo.,m. 2 : the word occurs in Lyly’s Euphues. rc. X.] THE COETENnOH 79 Of me the owner, but thou wilt brave me too ? Cade. Brave thee, and beard thee too, by the best blood of the realm ; look on me well : I have ate no meat this five days, yet and I do not leave thee and thy five men as dead as a door nail, I pray God I may never eat grass more. l dem. Nay, it never shall be said, whilst the world doth stand, that Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, took odds to combat with a famished man ; look on me, my limbs are equal unto thine, and every way as big, — then hand to hand I’ll combat thee. — Sirrah, fetch me weapons, and stand you all aside. Cade, Now sword, if thou dost not hew this burlj^- boned churl into chines of beef, I beseech God"^' thou inayst fall into some smith’s hands and be turned to hobnails. l den. Come on thy way. [They fight and Cade falls doicn. Cade. Oh, villain, thou hast slain the fiower of Kent for chivalry ! but it is famine, and not thee, that has done it, for come then thousand devils, and give me but the ten meals that I wanted this five days, and I’ll fight with you all, and so a pox rot thee, for Jack Cade must die. [He dies. Iden. Jack Cade ! and was it that monstrous rebel which I have slain ? Oh, sword ! I’ll honour thee for this, and in my chamber shalt thou hang as a monu- * Q. 1619 reads *•! would thou mightst fall” etc. ; the Folio, ** I beseech Jove on my knees.” etc. The alteration must have been made later than 1605, and is very significant, besides showing that the play, as we have it in F. must have been represented on the stage about that time or shortly after. 80 THE FIRST PART OF [act V. ment^ to after age for this great service thou hast done to me. I’ll drag him hence, and with my sword cut off his head and bear it to the ting.j- \Exit. ACT V. SCENE I. — Kent. The fields between Dartford and Blackheath. Enter the Duke 0 / Yobk with Drum and Soldiers. Yo7'k. In arms from Ireland comes York amain ; Bing bells aloud, bonfires perfume the air. To entertain fair England’s royal king. Ah, Sancta majesta ! who would not buy thee dear ? Enter the Duke 0/ Buckingham. But soft, who comes here ? Buckingham, what news with him ? Buc, York, if thou mean well, I greet thee so. York. Humphrey of Buckingham, welcome, I swear : AVhat, comes thou in love, or as a messenger ? Buc. I come as a messenger from our dread lord and sovereign, Henry, to know the reason of these arms in peace ; Or that thou, being a subject as I am, Shouldst thus approach so near with colours spread, WhereasJ the person of the king doth keep. * r. reads, — “ Sword, I will hallow thee for this deed. And hang thee o’er my tomb when I am dead.” The thought is more correctly expressed in the old play, hut it is to be re- membered that Homer sometimes nods, t This scene in F. contains 82 lines. J i.e. Where. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 81 Yorh. A subject as he is , — Oh, how I hate these spiteful abject terms 1 But, York, dissemble till thou meet thy sons, Who now in arms expect their father’s sight, And far hence I know they cannot be. — [Aside, Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham, pardon me. That I answered not at first ; my mind was troubled : I came to remove that monstrous rebel Cade, And heave proud Somerset from out the Court, That basely yielded up the towns in France. Buc. Why, that was presumption on thy behalf ; But if it be no otherwise but so. The king doth pardon thee, and grants to thy request, And Somerset is sent unto the Tower. YgtIz. Upon thine honour, is it so ? Buc. York, he is, upon mine honour. Yorli. Then before thy face, I here dismiss my troops : Sirs, meet me to-morrow in Saint George’s fields, And there you shall receive your pay of me. [Exeunt Soldiers. Buc. Come, York, thou shalt go speak unto the king ; But see, his grace is coming to meet us. Enter King Henhy. King. How now, Buckingham, is York friends with us, That thus thou bringst him hand in hand with thee ? Buc, He is, my lord, and hath discharged his troops. Which came with him, but as your grace did say. To heave the Duke of Somerset from hence, And to subdue the rebels that were up. * This line occurs in York’s speech a few lines above. F 82 THE FIRST PART OF [act V. King. Then welcome, cousin York ; give me thy hand, And thanks for thy great service done to us. Against those traitorous Irish that rebelled. Enter Master Iden with Jack Cade’s head. Iden. Long live [King] Henry in triumphant peace ! Lo, here, my lord, upon my bended knees, I here present the traitorous head of Cade, That hand to hand in single fight I slew. King. First thanks to heaven, and next to thee, my friend. That hast subdued that wicked traitor thus. — Oh, let me see that head that in his life Did work me and my land such cruel spite ! A visage stern, coal-black his curlM locks ; Deep trenchM furrows in his frowning brow, Presageth warlike humours in his life.^ Here, take it hence ; and thou for thy reward, Shalt be immediately created knight. Kneel down, my friend, and tell me what ’s thy name. *This description of Cade is not in the Folio. Cf. Arden of Feversham, ii.l, “ A lean-faced writhen knave. Hawk nosed and very hollow eyed, With mighty furrows in his stormy brows.” Again, Ibid, iii. 1, — ** And Mosbie’s name, a scandal unto mine. Is deeply trenched in my blushing brow.” Also, Comedy of Errors, v. 1, — “ A hungry, lean-faced villain, . . . A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,” etc. And King John, iii. 1,— “ Ugly, slanderous, . . . Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains. Lame, crooked, swart, prodigious,” etc. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 83 Iden, Alexander Iden, if it please your grace, A poor esquire of Kent. King, Then rise up, Sir Alexander Iden, knight ; And for thy maintenance I freely give A thousand pound a year to^' maintain thee, — Beside the firm reward that was proclaimed, For those that could perform this worthy act, — And thou shalt wait u 2 :)on the person of a king. Iden. I hunihiy thank your grace, and 1 no longer live. Than I prove just and loyal to the king. [Exit. Enter the Queex, with the Duke 0/ Somerset. King. Oh, Buckingham, see where Somerset comes ; Bid him go hide himself till York be gone. Queen. He shall not hide himself for fear of York, But beard and brave him proudly to his face. York. Who ’s that ? Proud Somerset at liberty ! Base, fearful Henry,- that thouf dishonour’ st me : By heaven thou shalt not govern over me ! I cannot brook that traitor’s presence here. Nor will I subject be to such a king, ^ That knows not how to govern nor to rule. . Hesign thy crown, proud Lancaster, to me, / That thou usurpM hast so long by force. For now is York resolved to claim his own. And rise aloft into fair England’s throne. Som. Proud traitor, I arrest thee on high treason Against thy sovereign lord ; yield thee, false York, For here I swear thou shalt unto the Tower, For these proud words which thou hast given the king. Q. 1600 , for to. t Query, thus; the line is not in F. 84 THE FIRST PART OF [act v* Yorlc. Thou art deceived, my sons shall be my bail, And send thee there in despite of him. — Ho, where are you, boys ! Queen, Call Cliiford hither, presently. Enter the Enlce o/Yoek’s Edwaeb the Earl of3Iarch, and Croolibach Htciiaed, ai one door, with Erum and Soldiers ; and at the other door, enter Clifford and his Son, with Drum and Soldiers j and Clifford hneels to Henry and speaks, Clif, Long live my noble lord and sovereign king ! York, We thank thee, Clifford. Nay, do not affright us with thy looks, If thou didst mistake, we pardon thee ; kneel again. Clif, Why, I did no way mistake ; this is my king. What, is he mad ? To Bedlam"^' with him ! King, Ay, a Bedlam frantic humour drives him thus To levy arms against his lawful king. Clif. Why doth not your grace send him to the Tower ? Queen. He is arrested, but will not obey ; His sons, he saith, shall be his bail. York, How say you, boj^s, will you not ? Edio, Yes, noble father, if our words will serve. Rich, And if our words will not, our swords shall. York, Call hither to the stake my two rough bears. King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast. Both thou and they, shall curse this fatal hour. * A corruption of Bsthelem. According to Nares this place was not con- verted into an hospital for lunatics till 1546 ; Stow, however, says it was founded as “ an hospital for distracted people” in 1246. sc. I.] THE CONTENTION. 85 Enter at one door the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, with Drum and Soldiers ; and at the other, the Duke of Buckingham, with Drum and Soldiers. Clif. Are these thy bears ? We ’ll bait them soon, Despite of thee and all the friends thou hast.*^ War. You had best go dream again, To keep you from the tempest of the field. Clif. I am resolved to bear a greater storm. Than any thou canst conjure up to-day ; And that I’ll write upon thy burgonet,t Might I but know thee by thy household badge. War. Now by my father’s age,J old Nevil’s crest. The rampant bear chained to the ragged staff. This day I’ll wear aloft my burgonet. As on a mountain top the cedar shows. That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm. Even to affright thee with the view thereof. Clif. And from thy burgonet will I rend the bear. And tread him underfoot with all contempt. Despite the bearward that protects him so. Y. Clif. And so, renownM sovereign, to arms,§ To quell these traitors and their ’complices. Bich. Eie, charity, for shame ! speak it not in spite, Eor you shall sup with Jesus Christ to-night. Y. Clif Eoul stigmatic,|l thou canst not tell. * Between this and the next speech there are 42 lines inserted in the Folio play. The two speeches commencing “ Call Buckingham,” are shifted further on in the scene, after the entrance of Salisbury and Warwick. t A helmet. t F. badge ; the botcher misheard the word. § F. — “ And so to arms, victorious father.” II A stigmatic is one on whom a deformity or stigma has been fixed. 86 THE FIRST PART OF [act V. Rich, No, for if not in heaven, you surely sup in hell.^*' [Exeunt omnes. SCENE II.— Saint Albans. Alarms to the Battle ; and then enter the Duke of Somekset and Bicb ARB f ghiing, and Eickard kills him under the sign of The Castle'' in Saint Albans. Rich, So, lie thou there, and breathe thy last.f What’s here, the sign of The Castle” ? Then the prophecy is come to pass. For Somerset was forewarned of castles, The which he always did observe ; and now, Behold, under a paltry ale-house sign, ‘‘ The Castle” in Saint Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous^ by his death. § [Exit. Alarm again, and enter the Earl o/WAUwicK alone. War. Clifford of Cumberland, ’tis Warwick calls. And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear. Now whilst the angry trumpets sound alarms. And dead men’s cries do fill the empty air, Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me ! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. Clif [speaks wiiJiin^. ^ arwick, stand still and view the way that Clifford hews with his murthering curtel-axe through the fainting troops to find thee out. t This scene in F. contains 216 lines. t Q. 1619 reads,— “ So lie thou there, and tumble in thy blood.” t This allusion is to the prophecy in i. 1, of this play, q.v. § In F. this speech occurs further on in the scene. sc. ir.] Till: CONTENTION, 87 Warwick, stand still and stir not till I -come. Enter York. War. How now, my lord ? What, a-foot ! Who killed your horse ? Yorlc. The deadly hand of Clifford. Noble lord, Five horse this day slain under me, And yet, brave Warwick, I remain alive ; But I did kill his horse he loved so well, The bonniest gray that e’er was bred in north. Enter Cltiford, and Warwick offers to fight ivith Mm, Hold, Warwick, and seek thee out some other chase, Myself will hunt this deer to death. War. Brave lord, ’tis for a crown thou fight’ st : — Clifford, farewell; as I intend to prosper well to-day, It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed. [Exit, York, Now, Clifford, since we are singled here alone, Be this the day of doom to one of us. For now my heart hath sworn immortal hate To thee, and all the house of Lancaster. Clif, And here I stand and pitch my foot to thine, Yowing never to stir till thou or I be slain ; For never shall my heart be safe at rest, Till I have spoiled the hateful house of York. \^Alarms, and they fight ; and York kills CLiF.f * Compare with the Folio play. t This does not agree with the account of Clifford’s death in 2he True Tragedy y i. 1 ; there he is said to have been slain by the hands of common soldiers The discrepancy however is no argument against a singleness of authorship in the two plays. Many similar instances can be found in the old drama. The Folio play has the same mistake. 88 THE FIRST PART OF [ACT V. Yorh. Now, Lancaster, sit sure, thy sinews shrink."^ Come, fearful Henry, grovelling on thy face. Yield up the crown unto the prince of York. \Exit, Alarms, then enter Young Cliffoed, alone. Y. Clif. Father of Cumberland ! Where may I seek my aged father forth ? Oh, dismal sight ! see where he breathless lies, All smeared and weltered in his luke-warm blood ! Ah, aged pillar of all Cumberland’s true house ! Sweet father, to thy murthered ghost I swear, Immortal hate unto the house of York ; Nor never shall I sleep secure one night, Till I have furiously revenged thy death. And left not one of them to breathe on earth. [He talces him ujj on his haclc. And thus as old Anchises son did bear His aged father on his manly back. And fought with him against the bloody Greeks, ^ Even so will I : but stay, here ’s one of them, To whom my soul hath sworn immortal hate.f Enter Eichaed, and then Cliffoed lays down his father, fights loith him, and Eichaed fiys away again.^ Out, crookback villain, get thee from my sight ! But I will after thee, and once again. When I have borne my father to his tent, I’ll try my fortune better with thee yet.g * This phrase occurs several times io The Troublesome Reign of King John t This speech is much elaborated in the Folio version, and extends to 36 ll’ X There is not a vistage of this in F. § This speech not in F sc. ir.] TUB CONTENTION. 89 \Exit Y. Clifford with his father. Alarms again, and then enter three or four hearing the Duke 0 / Buckingham, ivounded, to his tent.^ Alarms still, and then enter the King and Queen. Queen. Away, my lord, and fly to London straight ; Make haste, for vengeance comes along with them. Come, stand not to expostulate ; — let ’s go.f King. Come, then, fair queen, to London let us haste, And summon up a parliament with speed. To stop the fury of these dire events. J [Exeunt. SCENE III. — Fields near Saint Albans. Alarms, and then a flourish, and enter the Duke of York,§ and Eichard. York. How now, boys? Fortunate this fight hath been, I hope, to us and ours for England’s good. And our great honour, that so long we lost. Whilst faint-heart Henry did usurp our rights : But did you see old Salisbury since we. With bloody minds, did buckle with the foe ? I would not, for the loss of this right hand, That aught but well betide that good old man. Bich. My lord, I saw him in the thickest throng, Charging his lance with his old weary arms, And thrice I saw him beaten from his horse. And thrice this hand did set him up again. And still he fought with courage ’gainst his foes, * Not in F. t This line occurs in The True Tragedy, ii. 1. i This scene in F. contains 91 lines. § Q. 1619, adds Eduard, and correctly, for a little further on he is one of the speakers. 90 THE FIRST PAR T OF THE COXTENTION. [act v. The boldest sprited man that e’er mine eyes beheld.’*^ Enter Salisbury and Warwick. Edw, See, noble father, where they both do come, The only props unto the house of York. Sal. Well hast thou fought this day, thou valiant duke, And thou, brave bud of York’s increasing house. The small remainder of my weary life I hold for thee, for with thy warlike arm. Three times this day thou hast preserved my life. Yorlc. What say you, lords, the king is fled to London, There, as I hear, to hold a parliament. What says lord Warwick, shall we after them ? War, After them ? nay, before them if we can. Now, by my faith, f lords, ’twas a glorious day ! Saint Alban’s battle won by famous York, Shall be eternized^ in all age to come. Sound drums and trumpets, and to Loudon all, And more such days as these to us befall. § [Exeunt omnes. * The two last speeches appear to have been revised in the Folio play, t F. “ Now by my hand.” Steevens and others adopt the reading of the old play. t Q. 1594, eternest ; Q. 1619, eternized, which is also the reading of the Folio. Shakespeare does not use the word except in 2 Hen VI. Miss Lee (Shak. Soc, Trans. 1876) cites several instances of its use by Marlowe. § This scene in F. contains 34 lines. END OF THE FIRST PART. THE TEUE TKAGEEY 0 F RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, AND THE DEATH OF GOOD KING HENRY THE SIXTH W IT H T H E WHOLE CONTENTION BETWEEN THE TWO HOUSES LANCASTER & YORK, 0 KING HENRY VI. EDWARD, Prince of Waleii, his Son. LEWIS XI, King of France. DUKE OF SOMERSET, DUKE OF EXETER, EARL OF OXFORD, EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, EARL OF WESTMORLAND, LORD CLIFFORD,— Lorcas on King Henry’s side. RICHARD PLANTAGNET, Duke of York. EDWARD Earl of Mareh^ afterwards King Edward iv. EDMUND, Earl of Rutland. GYORGY, afterwards Duke of Clarence y RICHARD, afterwards Duke of Gloster, — his Sons. DUKE OF NORFOLK, MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE, EARL OF WARWICK, EARL OF PEMBROKE, LORD HASTINGS, LORD STAFFORD,— 0/ the Duke of York's Party. HENRY, Earl of Richmondy a Youth. I ORD RIVERS, Brother to Lady Grey. Sir John Mortimer, Sir Hugh Mortimer, — Uncles to the Duke of York. Sir William Stanley. Sir John Montgomery. Sir John Somerville. Tutor to Rutland. Mayor of York. liieutenaMt of the Tower. A Nobleman. Two Keepers A Huntsman. A Son that has killed his Father. A Father that has killed his Son. QUEEN MARGARET. JjADY grey, afterwards Queen to Edward iv. BONA, Sister to the French Queen. Soldiers, Attendants on King Henry, and King Edward, Guards Messengers, Watchmen, ?CJ.JSE II . — Before York. Enter the King and Queen. Evince Edward, and the Northern Earls, with drum and Soldiers. Queen. elcome, my lord, to this brave town of York, Yonder'S the hea.d of that ambitious enemy, That souglit to be impaled with your crown : Doth not the object please your eye, my lord ? King. Even as the rocks please them that fear their wrack. — Withhold revenge, dear God ! ’tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have 1 infringed my vow . Clif. My gracious lord, tliis too much lenity, And harmful pity, must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ? Not to the beast that would usurp their J den. Whose hand is that the savage bear doth lick ? Not his that spoils his young before his face. Who§ ’scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting ? Not he that sets his foot upon her back. * Agrees. t This scene in F. contains 209 lines. X Old copy, his. § Q. 1595, Whose ; Q’s. 1600, 1619, and F. , who, j^r. Tf.l l^irHABD DUKE OF TOEK. 125 The sTnallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in rescue* of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown ; Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows ; He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue like a loving sire. Thou, being a king, blessed with a goodly son, Didst give consent to disinherit him ; Which argued thee a most unnatural father. Unreasonable creatures feed their young, And though mans’ face be fearful to their eyes. Yet, in protection of their tender ones. Who hath not seen them, even with those same wings Which they have sometime used in fearful flight, f Make war with him that climbed unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence? For shame, my lord ! make them your precedent. Were it not pity that this goodly boy, Should lose his birthright through his father’s fault ? And long hereafter say unto his child, — What my great grandfather and grandsire got, My careless father fondly J gave away,” Look on the boy, and let his manly face, Which promiseth successful fortune to us all,§ Steel thy melting thoughts, || To keep thine own, and leave thine own with him. King. Full well hath Clifford played the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. * F. safeguard. t F. urith fearful flight.” Some editors adopt the reading of the 4to. I i.e. Foolishly. § To us all not in F. 11 F. hearts 126 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act ir. But tell me, didst thou never yet hear tell, That things evil got"^ had ever bad success ? And happy ever was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding* went to hell ? 1 leave my son my virtuous deeds behind, And would my father had left me no more ; Bor all the rest is held at such a rate, As asks a thousand times more care to keep, Than may the present profit countervail. f Ah, cousin York ! would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head stands there. Queen. My lord, this harmful pityj makes your fol- lowers faint. You promised knighthood to your princely son ; TJnsheath your sword, and straight§ do dub him knight. Kneel down, Edward. King. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight. And learn this lesson, boy,— Draw thy sword in right. Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, ITl draw if as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death. North. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. Enter a Messenger. Mes. Eoyal commanders, be in readiness, * F. ill-got. t Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps says this word is a particular favourite of Greene’s, jt is used twenty-two times in his Card of 1584, and only twice by Shakespeare, — viz., in Pericles^ ii. Z. and Rom. SCENE Y .—-The same. Another part of the field. Alarms still, and then enter Henry solus. King. Oh, gracious God of heaven, look down upon us. And set some ends to these incessant griefs ! How like a mastless ship upon the seas, This woful battle doth continue still ; Now leaning this way, now to that side driven, And none doth know to whom the day will fall. Oh, would my death might stay these civil jars ! Would I had never reigned, nor ne’er been king ! Margaret and Clifford chide me from the field. Swearing they had best success when I w^as thence. Would God that I were dead, so all were well ! Or would my crown suffice, I were content ^ This scene in F. contains 13 lines. sc. V.] mCHABD DUKE OF YOBK. 135 To yield it them and live a private life.* Fjnter a Soldier icith a dead man in his arms.f Sol. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody ; This man that I have slain in fight to-day, May be possessM of some store of crowns, And I will search to find them if I can ; But stay : — methinks it is my father’s face ! Oh, ay, ’tis he whom I have slain in fight ! — From London was I pressed out by the king ; My father he came on the part of York ; And in this conflict I have slain my father. Oh pardon, Grod ! I knew not what I did ; And pardon, father ! for I knew thee not. Enter another Soldier with a dead man. 2 Sol. Lie there, thou that fought’st with me so stoutly ; Now let me see what store of gold thou hast : But stay, — methinks this is no foeman’s face !| Oh no, it is my son that I have slain in fight ! Oh monstrous times, begetting such events ! How cruel, bloody and erroneous, This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! Poor boy ! thy father gave thee life too late, And hath bereaved thee of thy life too soon.§ * This speech, which consists of 13 lines, is expanded to 64 lines in F., ^ y t Compare the stage directions in F. X Old copy, faimous ; either a mishearing or a misprint. F. /oe-r/mns. § F, reads,— “ Oh boy ! thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late." Here the last word of the two lines of the old play is transposed, and makes excellent sense of the passage ; see the notes of the commentators. 136 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OP [act II. King. AVoe above woe, grief more tlian common grief ! Whilst lions war and battle for their dens, Poor lambs do feel the rigour of their wraths. The red rose and tlie white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses ; Wither one rose and let the other flouiish. For if you strive, ten thousand lives must perish. 1 Sol. How will my mother, for my fatlier’s death. Take on^ with me, and ne’er be satisfied. 2 Sol. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son. Take on with me, and ne’er be satisfied. King, How will the people now misdeem their kiiig : Oh, would my death their minds could satisfy ! 1 Sol. Was ever son so rued his father’s blood to spill ? 2 Sol. Was ever father so unnatural his son to kill ? King. Was ever king thus grieved and vex^d still? 1 Sol. I’ll bear thee hence from this accursed idaee, For woe is me to see my father’s face. [Exit with his father. 2 Sol. I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight tliat will, For I have murdered where I should not kill. [Exit with his son. King. AVeep, wretched man. I’ll lay thee tear for tear :f Here sits a king as woe-begone as thee. Alarms, and enter the Queex. Queen. Away, my lord, to Berwick presently. The day is lost, our friends are murdered ; * i.e., Persist in lamentation ; the phrase is vulgar rather than obsolete, t In F. this line occurs earlier in the scene. This speech of King Henry’s commences, Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care.” sc. V.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK. 137 No liope is left for us, therefore, away. Enter Prince Edward. Trince. Oh, father, fiy ; our men have left the field : Take horse, sweet father, let us save ourselves. Enter Exeter. Ex. Away, my lord, for vengeance comes along with him ; Nay, stand not to expostulate,*’* make haste. Or else come after. I’ll away before. King. Nay, stay, good Exeter, for ITl along with thee.f [Exeunt. SCENE YI . — The same. Enter Cluford wounded, with an arrow in his nech.'!^ Clif. Here burns my candle out,§ That whilst it lasted gave King Henry light.— Ah, Lancaster, I fear thine overthrow. More than my body’s parting from my soul ! My love and fear glued many friends to thee. And now I die, that tough commixture melts, Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, The common people swarm like summer flies, || * This expression is used in the Contention, p. 89, 1. 7, q.v. t This scene in F. contains 324 lines, i F. “ Enter Clifford, wounded.” The direction “ with an arrow in his neck” is from Holingshead. Beaumont and Fletcher ridicule the circumstance in the Induction to the Knight of the Burning Pestle, § Cf. 1 Henry VI, ii. 6, — Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer.” II This similie has been used before ; see Contention, p. 60, 1. 2. The line is not in F., but it seems necessary, and is inserted by Steevens, Collier and other editors. 138 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act II. And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ? And w ho shines now but Henry’s enemy ? 0 Phcebus, hadst thou never given consent That Phseton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car had never scorched the earth ; And Henry, hadst thou lived as kings should do. And as thy father and his father did. Giving no foot unto the house of York,^ 1 and ten thousand in this woful land. Had left no mourning widows for our deaths,' And thou this day had kept thy throne in peace. For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air ? And what make robbers bold but lenity ? — Bootless are plaints, and cureless are iny wounds ; No way to fly, no strength to hold our flight ;t The foe is merciless and will not pity me, And at their hands I have deserved no pity. The air has got into my bleeding wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. Come York, and Eichard, Warwick and the rest, I stabbed your fathers, now come and split my breast. Enter Edward, Eichard and Warwick, and Soldiers. Edw. Thus far, our fortunes keep an upward course, And we are graced with wreaths of victory. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, That now towards Berwick doth post amain : But think you that Clifford is fled away with them ? * Here the Folio has the following line,— “ They never then had sprung like summer-flies/* which is not in the old play, t Q. 1619 and F. read, “ to hold out flight/' sc. vr.] lUCHABD DUKE OF YORK. m n ar. No, His impossible he should escape, For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Eichard marked him for the grave ; Aud wheresoe’er he be I warraut him dead. [Clijfohd groans and then dies. Edw. Hark ! what soul is this that takes his heavy leave ? Etch. A deadly groan, like life and death’s departure. Ediv. Sec who it is and now the battle ’s ended, Friend or foe, let him be friendly used. Eick. E-everse that doom of mercy, for His Clifford, Who killed our tender brother Eutland, And stabbed our princely father, Duke of York. IFfir. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father’s liead which Giih’ord placed there ; Instead of that, let his supply the room : Measure for measure must be answered. Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung to us but blood and death ; Now his evil-boding tongue no more shall speak, TFar. I think his understanding is bereft. — Say, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee ? Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. EicJi. Oh, would he did ! and so perhaps he doth, Aud His his policy that in the time of death. He might avoid such hitter storms as he, In his hour of death, did give unto our father. George.j Eichard, if thou think’st so, vex him with eager words. * In F. these words form part of the preceeding speech, t Th'e'4td. does not mark the entrance of George, THE TEVE T MAG ELY OF [act II. l40 Mich, Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Edw, Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. War, Clifford, devise excuses for thy fault. George, Whilst we devise fell tortues for thy fault. Mich, Thou pitied’ st York, and I am son to York. Edw, Thou pitied’ st Rutland, and I will pity thee. George, Where’s captain Margaret, to fence you now ? War, They mock thee, Clifford j swear as thou wast wont. Mich. What, not an oath I nay, then I know he’s dead, ’Tis hard when Clifford cannot ’ford his friend an oath.'^ By this I know he’s dead, and by my soul, AYould this right hand buy but an hour’s life, That I in all contempt might rail at him, I’d cut it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstaunclied thirst, York and young Rutland could not satisf}^ liar. Ay, but he is dead ; off with the traitor’s head. And rear it in the place your father’s stands. — And now to London with triumphant march. There to be crownM England’s lawful king. From thence shall Warwick cross the seas to France, And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen. So shalt thou sinew both these lands together. And, having France thy friend, thou needst not dread The scattered foe that hopes to rise again ; And though they cannot greatly sting to hurt. Yet look to have them buzf to offend thine ears. First I’ll see the coronation done, And afterwards I’ll cross the seas to France, ^ Cf Folio. t 4to., Ijusie. sc. VI.] HICIIAUD DUKE OF YORK 141 To effect this marriage if it please my lord. Edw. Even as thou wilt, good Warwick, let it be ; But first, before we go, George, kneel down ; We here create thee Duke of Clarence, And girt thee with the sword : our younger brother, Eichard, Duke of Gloster. Warwick, as myself, Shall do, and undo, as him^ pleaseth best. Bich. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George, of Gloster ; For GlosteFs dukedom is too ominous. War, Tut ! that ’s a childishf observation : Eichard, be Duke of Gloster. — Now to London, To see these honours in possession. :J: [Exeunt omnes, ACT 1 1 1. SCENl’i I. — A Chase in the North 0/ England. Enter two Keepers§ with how and arrows. Keep, Come, let ^s take our stands upon this hill. And by and by the deer will come this way ; * Q. 1619, himself. t F. foolish. X This scene in F. contains 109 lines. § F. they are called Sincklo and Humphrey, the names of the actors who represented these two characters. The fact is sig'nificant, and seems to in- dicate that 3 Hciio y VI. was acted by another, and probably earlier, company than the Chamberlains ; if, indeed, it does not actually identify it with the True Tragedy of Richard Duhe of York. Sincklo, or Sinkler, acted in the second part of the Seven Deadly Sins, revived in, or shortly after, 1689, and the plot, which is extant, contains a species of Induction in which appear Henry VI. , W'arwick, a Pursuivant, Warders, and a Keeper. Sincklo’s part was a Keeper— a singular coincidence. This actor no doubt took the part of a Keeper in the present scene of the True Tragedy, and that serves to fix the date of its production on the stage, which must have been 1589. This surmise is confirmed by the fact that Sincklo was a member of Pembroke’s company Of players till 1692, w’hen he joined Lord Strange’s. Humphrey, I take to mean Humphrey Jeffes, also a member of Pembroke’s company. 143 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act III. But stay, here comes a man, let’s listen him awhile."^ Enter Kixo Henry, disguised. \ King, From Scotland am I stol’n, even of pure love, And thus disguised, to greet my native land. No, Henry, no, it is no land of thine ; No bending knee will call thee Caesar now ; No humble suitors sue to thee for right. For how canst thou help them, and not tliyself ? Keep, Ay, marry, sir, here isj a deer, his skin Is a keeper’s fee.. — Sirrah, stand close, for as I think, This is the king King Edward hath deposed. King, My queen and son, poor souls ! are gone to France, And, as I hear, the great commanding lYarwick, To entreat a marriage with the Lady Bona ; If this be true, poor queen and son. Your labour is but spent in vain. For Lewis is a prince soon won with words. And Warwick is a subtle orator ; He laughs, and says— his Edward is installed ; She weeps, and says — her Henry is deposed ; He, on his right hand, asking a wife for Edward, She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry.g [Aside, Keep, What art thou, that talk’st of kings and queens ? King, More than I seem, for less I should not be * * * § A man at least, and piore I cannot be ; * In F. the dialogue between the two keepers extends to 12 lines, t “ With a prayer-book,” adds f^he rolio. t Q. 1619, and F. , here’s. § This speech in F. is expanded to 27 Ijnes, so. I,] men Ann dukb of yoek. 143 And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? Keep. Ay, but thou talk^st as if thou wert a king Thyself. Kmp. Why, so I am in mind, though not in show. Keep. And if thou be a king, where is thy crown ? King. My crown is in my heart, not on my head. My crown is called content ; a crown that kings Do seldom times enjoy. And if thou be a king crowned with content, Your crown, content, and you must be content To go with us unto the officer, For as we think, you are our quondam king. King Edward hath deposed ; and therefore we charge you, In God’s name and the king’s, to go along With us unto the officers. King. God’s name Be fulfilled j your king’s name be obeyed : And be you kings, cornmand and I’ll obey^^ [Exeunt. SCENE II. — London, A Room in the Palace. i^nter King Edward, Clarence, Gloster, Montague, Hastings, and the Lady Grey. K. Edw. Brothers of Clarence and of Gloster, This lady’s husband, here. Sir Eichardf Grey, At the battle of Saint Albans did lose his life ; His lands then were seized on by the conqueror : * This scene in F. contains 100 lines. t A mistake, continued in F. ; his real name was Jphn. Here and in F., Sir John Grey is represented as fighting on the Yorkist side, when in reality he was a Lancastrian ; the mistake was corrected by Shakespeare in Eich. III . , I. 3. where he says Grey had been factious for the house of Lancaster, 144 THE TBUE TEAGEDY OF [act Illr Her suit is now to repossess those lands, And sith in quarrel of the house of York, The noble gentleman did lose his life. In honour we cannot deny her suit. Glo, Your highness shall do well to grant it then. K, Edw. Ay, so I will ; but yet I ’ll make a pause. Glo, Ay, is the wind in that door ? I see the lady hath something to grant, Before the king will grant her humble suit. [Aside. Cla. He knows the game, how well he keeps the wind. K. Edw. Widow, come some other time to know our mind. La. May it please your grace, I cannot brook delays ; I beseech your highness to dispatch me now, K. Edai. Lords, give us leave, we mean to try this widow’s wit, Cla. Ay, good leave have you. Glo. For you will have leave till youth take leave, And leave you to your crutch. K. Edw. Come hither, widow ; — how many children hast thou ? Cla. I think he means to bag a child on her. [Aside. Glo. Nay, whip me then, he’ll rather give her two. La. Three, my most gracious lord. Glo. You shall have four, and you will be ruled by him. K. Edw. Were’t not pity they should lose their father’s lands ? La. Be pitiful, then, dread lord, and grant it them. RC. II.] mCHAKt) DUKE OE TOEK. 145 ii. Edtd, 1^11 tell thee how these lands are to be got. La. So shall you bind me to your highness’ service. K. E(ht\ What service will you do me if I grant It them ? La. Even what your highness shall command. Glo. Nay, then, widow, I’ll warrant you all your Husband’s lands, if you grant to do what he Commands, Eight close, or in good faith You[’ll] catch a clap.'^ [Aside. Cla. Nay, I fear her not unless she fall. Glo. Marry, gods forbot, man, for he ’ll take ’van- tage then. [Aside. Jja. Why stops my lord ; shall I not know my task ? K. Edv:. An easy task ; ’tis but to love a king. La. That’s soon performed, because I am a subject. K. Edw. Why then thy husband’s lands I freely give thee. La. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. (7/a. The match is made ; she seals it with a curtsy. [Aside. K. Edw. Stay, widow, stay. — What love dost thou think I sue so much to get ? La. My humble service, such as subjects owe. And the law commands. K. Edw. No, by my troth ; I meant no such love : — ’ But to tell thee the truth, I aim to lie with thee. La. To tell you plain, my lord, I had rather lie in prison. K. Edw. Why, then thou canst not get thy husband’s lands. * F. blow. K HG TEE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act III. La. Then mine honesty shall be my dower, For by that loss I will not purchase them. K. Edw. Herein thou wrongest thy children mightily. La. Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Agrees not with the sadness’^ of my suit. Please it your highness to dismiss me either With ay, or no. K. Edw. Ay, if thou say ay” to my request. No, if thou say no” to my demand. La. Then — no, my lord ; my suit is at an end. Glo. The widow likes him not, she bends the brow. \_Aside. Cla. he is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. \^Asidr. K. Edw. Her looks are aJl replete with majesty ; — One way or other she is for a king : And she shall be my love, or else my queen. [Aside. Say that King Edward took thee for his queen ? La. ’Tis better said than done, my gracious lord ; I am a subject fit to jest withal. But far unfit to be a sovereign. K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear I speak No more than what my heart intends, And that is to enjoy thee for my love, La. And that is more than I will yield unto ; I kiiow I am too bad to [be] your queen. And yet too good to be your concubine. K. Edw. You cavil, widow ; I did mean my queen. * i.e . , Seriousness 8C. II.] ElCHARD D UKE OF TORK 147 La. Your grace would be loth my sons should call you father. K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call thee mother. Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children, And by God’s mother, I, being but a bachelor. Have other some. Why, ’tis a happy thing To be the father of many children. — Argue no more, for thou shalt be my queen. GIo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. Cla. AVhen he was made a shriver, ’t was for shift. K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what talk the widow And I have had : you would think it strange If I sliorJd marry her ? Ch(. Marry her, my lord, to whom ? K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself. (ilo. That wculd be ten days wonder at the least. Cla. Why, that’s a day longer than a wonder lasts, Ola. And so much more are the wonders in extremes, K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers, I can tell you Her suit is granted for her husband’s lands. Enter a Messenger. | Mes. And it please your grace, Henry, your foe, is taken, And brought a prisoner to your palace gates. K. Edw, Away with him, and send him to the Tower ; And let us go cj[uestion with the man about His apprehension. Lords, along, and use * Compare this wooing of Lady Grey with King Edward Ill’s wooing of the Countess of Salisbury in Shakespeare’s Edward 111. F. RoUeman. 148 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act III. This lady honourably. \Excunt. Manet Glostee. Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably : — Would he were wasted marrow, bones, and all ! That from his loins no issue might succeed. To hinder me from the golden time I look for For I am not yet looked on in the world. First is there Edward, Clarence, and Henry And his son, and all the lookedf for issue Of their loins, ere I can plant myself ; A cold premeditation for my purpose ! Wiiat other pleasure is there in the world beside ? I ^ ill go cladj my body in gay ornaments, § And lull myself within a lady’s lap, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. Oh, monstrous man, to harbour such a thought ! Why, love did scorn me in my mother’s W'omb :|| And for I should not deal in her affairs, 8he did corrupt frail nature in the flesh, And placed an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body ; To dry mine arm up like a withered shrimp, To make my legs of an unequal size : And am I then a man to be beloved ? Easier for me to compass twenty crowns. Tut, [ can smile, and murder when I smile ; I cry content to that that^ grieves me most ; ^ Cf. Arden of Fever sham y iii. 5, t F. “ And all the urdooked for issue.” j p s The whole of this speech seems like the prelude to Gloster’s optnimr speech in Richard III, ® II Cf. Wily Beguiled, 1606,— “ For love did scorn me in my mother’s womb.” p. reads foreswm e in place of scorn. T Q. 16 I 9 , and T. read that which. RICHARD DUKE OF YORK 149 sc. II.] I can add colours to the cameleon, And for a need change shapes with Proteus, And set the aspiring Cataline^ to school. Call I do this, and cannot get the crown ? Tush, were it ten times higher, I’ll pullf it down. J [Exit, SCENE III. — France. A Room in the Palace, Enter King Lewis and the Lady Bona, and Queen Mar- GARET, Prince Edward, Oxiord, and others. Lew, Welcome Queen Margaret to the court of France. It fits not Lewis to sit while thou dost stand ; Sit by my side, and here I vow to thee. Thou shalt have aid to repossess thy right. And beat proud Edward from his usurped seat, And place King Henry in his former rule. Queen. I humbly thank your royal majesty. And pray the god of heaven to bless thy state, Great King of France, that thus regards our wrongs. Enter Warwick. Lew, How now, who is this ? Queen, Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s chiefest friend. Lew, Welcome brave Warwick, what brings thee to France ? War, From worthy Edward King of England, My lord and sovereign and thy vowed friend, * F. reads, — “ And set the murderous Machiavel to school.” Cf. 1 Henry yX^ V. 4, — ” Alencon ! that notorious Machiavel.’* t So Q. 1619 ; Q. 1596, puty F. pluck, J This scene in F. contains 196 lines. Gloster’s last speech is augumented by 42 lines. 1^0 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act III. I come in kindness and unfeigned love, First to do greetings to thy royal person, And then to crave a league of amity ; And, lastly, to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous lady ^ona, thy fair sister, To England’s king in lawful marriage. Queen. And if this go forward all our hope is done. War. [to Bona.] And, gracious madam, in our king’s behalf, I am commanded, with your love* and favour. Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passions of my sovereign’s heart ; Where fame, late entei’ing at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy glorious image and thy virtues. Queen. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, hear me speak Before you answer Warwick or his words. For he it is hath done us all these wrongs. f War. Injurious Margaret I Prince. And why not queen ? War. Because thy father, Henry, did usurp ; And thou no more art prince than she is queen. Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, That did subdue the greatest part of Spain ; And after John of Gaunt, wise Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the world ; And after this wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who with his prowess conquerM all France, From these our Henry is Jineally descent. * F. leave ; the word in the text is another instance of mishearing, t This speech is expanded to la lines in F. sc. III.] BICHARD DUKE OF YORK 151 War. Oxford, how haps that in this smooth discourse, You told not how Henry the Sixth had lost All that Henry the Fifth had gotten ? Methinks these peers of France should smile at that : But for the rest you tell a pedigree Of threescore and two years — a silly time To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou deny thy king. Whom thou obeyed’ st thirty and eight^ years. And hewrayf thy treasons with a blush ? War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right. Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree ? For shame ! leave Henry and call Edward king, Oxf. Call him my king, by whom mine elder brother The Lord Aubrey Yere w^as done to death And more than so, my father, even in The dowmfall of his mellowed years. When age did call him§ to the door of death ? No, Warwick, no ; whilst life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. War. And I the house of York. Lew, Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe to forbear awhile. Till I do talk a word with Warwick. || — Now, Warwick, even upon thy honour tell me true ; Is Edward lawful king or no ? for I * F. Thirty and six. f i.e. , Discover, betray, X Here the difference in F. is worth noting “ Oxf. Call him my king, by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the lord Aubery Vere, Was done to death § F. “ When Nature brought him.” II Here F. interposes a speech, of one line, by Queen Margaret. 152 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OE [act III. Were loth to link 'with him that is not lawful heir. War. Thereon I pawn mine honour and my credit. Leic. What, is he gracious in the peoples’ eyes ? irar. The more that Henry is unfortunate. Lcic. What is his love to our sister Bona ? War. Such, it seems. As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say and swear, That this his love was an eternal plant, The root whereof was fixed in virtue’s ground ; The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s Sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain. Unless the Lady Bona ’quite his pain. Leic. Then, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. Bona. Your grant or your denial shall be mine ; But ere this day, I must confess, when I Have heard your king’s deserts recounted, Mine ears have tempted judgment to desire. Lew. Then draw near. Queen Margaret, and be a witness that Bona shall be wife to the English king. Trince. To Edward, but not the English king. War. Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, Where having nothing, nothing he can lose : — And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain your state, And better ’tw ere to trouble him than France. Sound for a Post icithin. Lew. Here comes some post, Warwick, to thee or us, * i.e. perennial. F. reads external; corrected by editors to eternah from the old play. sc. III.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK. 153 F ost. My lord ambassador, this letter is for you ; Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague. This, from our king unto your majesty : And these to you, madam, from whom I know not. Oxf . I like it well that our fair queen and mistress. Smiles at her news, when Warwick frets’^ at his. Prince. And mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled. Lew. Now, Margaret and Warwick, what are your news ? Queen. Mine, such as fills my heart full of joy.f War. Mine, full of sorrow and heart’s discontent. Lew. What, hath your king married the Lady Grrey, And now to excuse himself sends us a post of papers ? How dares he presume to use us thus ! Queen. This proveth Edward’s love, and Warwick’s honesty. War. King Lewis, I here protest in sight of heaven. And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss. That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward’s, No more my king, for he dishonours me. And most himself if he could see his shame. Did I forget that by the house of York, My father came untimely to his death Did I let pass by the abuse done to thy§ niece ? Did I impale him with the regal crown. And thrust King Henry from his native home. And, most ungrateful, doth he use me thus ? * F. frowns. t Q. 1619,— “ Mine, such as fills my heart with joy.” F. — ” Mine, such as fills my heart with unhoped joys,” X Q. 1619, an untimely death ; F. agrees with the text. I F. myt which is the right reading. 154 [act III. THE TRUE TRAUEDY OF My gracious queen, pardon what is past, And hence forth I am thy true servitor ; I will revenge the wrongs done to Lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state. Qneen. Yes, Warwick, I do quite forget thy former faults. If now thou wilt become King Henry’s friend. War, So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend. That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I’ll undertake to land them on our coast, And force the tyrant from his seat by war : ’Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him. Lew, Then at the last I am resolved You shall have aid : — and English messenger, return In post, and tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over maskers, To revel it with him and his new bride. Bona. Tell him, in hope he’ll be a widower shortly. I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake. Queen. Tell him my mourning weeds be laid aside. And I am ready to put armour on. War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong. And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere ’t be long. There ’s thy reward, be gone.^ Lew. But now tell me, Warwick, what assurance I shall have of thy true loyalty ? War. This shall assure my constant loyalty ; If that our queen and this young prince agree, I’ll join mine eldest daughter and my joy, * Q. 1619 here reads, ** Exi^ Mes.”; F. o ExU Post.’* sc. III.] inCHARD DUKE OF YORK. 155 To him forthwith in holy wedlock’s bands. ^ Queen. With all my heart ; that match Hike full well. Love lier, son Edward, she is fair and young, And give thy hand to Warwick for thy love, Leie. It is enough : — and now we will prepare To levy soldiers for to go with you. And you, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral. Shall waft them safely to the English coast, And chase proud Edward from his slumbering trance. For mocking marriage with the name of France, I came from Edward as ambassador, But I return his sworn and mortal foe ; Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, But dreadful war shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stalef but me ? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raised him to the crown, And I’ll be chief to bring him down again ; Not that I pity Henry’s misery. But seek revenge on Edward’s mockery. f [Exeunt. * Q. 1619, and F. ivedlocke. 1 A decoy ; any thing used to entice or draw on a person. Nares.— C t Titus Andronicus, i. 2. X This scene in F. contains 267 lines. 166 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act IV. ACT IV. SCENE I. — London. A Boom in the Palace, Enter King Edward, the Queen and Clarence, Gloster, and Montague, and Hastings, and Pembroke, icitJi Soldiers. Edw. Brothers of Clarence, and of Gloster, what think You of our marriage with the Lady Grey ? Cla, My lord, we think as Warwick and Lewis That are so slack in judgment, they T1 take No offence at this sudden marriage. Ediv. Suppose they do, they are hut Lewis And Warwick, and I am your king and Warwick’s, And will be obeyed. Glo, And shall, because our king ; but yet Such sudden marriages seldom proveth well. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you against us too? Glo. Not I, my lord, no ; God forefend that I Should once gainsay your highness’ pleasure : ay. And ’twere a pity to sunder them that yoke So well together. Edw. Setting your scorns and your dislikes. aside. Show me some reasons why the Lady Grey May not be my love and England’s queen. Speak freely, Clarence, Gloster, Montague, And Hastings. My lord, then this is mine ojunion ; That Warwick being dishonoured in his embassage. Doth seek revenge to ’quite his injuries. 8C. I.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK. 157 GJo, And Lewis in regard to his sister’s wrongs, Doth join with Warwick to supplant your state. Edw. Suppose that Warwick and Lewis he appeased, By such means as I can best devise ? 3Ion. But yet to have joined with France in this alliance, Would more have strengthened this our commonwealth, ’Gainst foreign storms, than any home-bred marriage. Hast. Let England be true within itself,"^ We need not France nor any alliance with them, [serves Cla. For this one speech the Lord Hastings well de- To have the daughter and heir of the Lord Hungerford. Edu\ And v hat then ? It was our will it should be so, Cia, Ay, and for such a thing, too, the Lord Scales Did well deserve at your hands to have The daughter of the Lord B onfield, and left Your brothers to go seek elsewhere ; but in Your madness you bury brotherhood. f Edio, Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wife That thou art malcontent ? Why, man. Be of good cheer. I’ll provide thee one. Cla. Nay, you played the broker so ill for yourself, That you shall give me leave to make my choice As I think good ; and to that intent I shortly mean to leave you, * The Folio play reads, — “ Why, knows not Montague, that of itself England is safe, if true within itself.” Cf. The Troublesome Reign of King John^ Part II. v. 2,— “ Let England live bnt true within itself, And all the w^orld can never wrong her state. Cf. also. King John, v. 7, 11. 18-19. t Given rather differently in F. q-v. 158 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act IV. Edw. Leave me, or tarr}^ I am full resolved Edward will not be tied to his brothers’ wills. Queen . My lords, do me but right, and you must confess, Before it pleased his highness to advance My state to title of a queen. That I was not ignoble in my birth, f Edw. Forbear, my love, to fawn upon their frowns, For thee they must obey — nay, shall obey. And if they look for favour at my hands. Mon. My lord, here is the messenger returned from France. Enter a Messenger. Edw. Now, sirrah, what letters, or what news? Mes. No letters, my lord, and such news as, without yonr highness’ special pardon, I dare not relate. Edw. We pardon thee, and, as near as thou canst. Tell me, what said Lewis to our letter ? Mes. At my departure these were his very words. — ^ ^ Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over maskers To revel it with him and his new bride.” Edw. Is Lewis so brave ? belike he thinks me Henry. But what said Lady Bona to these wrongs ? Mes. Tell him,” quoth she, in hope he ’ll prove a widower shortly. I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.” Ediv. She had the wrong ; — indeed, she could ^ In the stage directions and speech prefix of F. she is called Lady Gre t Q. 1619, “ from my birth” ; F. “ ignoble of descent.” MICSARD DUKE OF YORK 159 sc. I.] Say little less. But what said Henry’s nueen ? For, as I hear, she was then in place. Mes. Tell him,” quoth she, my mourning weeds be done. And I am ready to put armour on.” Edw. Then belike she means to play the Amazon : But what said Warwick to these injuries ? Mes. He, more incensM than the I’est, my lord : — Tell him,” quoth he, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere ’t be long.” Edic, Ha 1 dar’et the traitor breathe out such proud words ? But I will arm me to prevent the worst : But what, is Warwick friends with Margaret ? Mes. Ay, my good lord, they’re so linked in friendship, That young Prince Edward marries Warwick’s daughter. Cla. The elder, belike ; Clarence shall have the Younger. — All ye that love me and Warwick, Follow me.^ [Exeunt Clarence and Somerset. Eda\ Clarence and Somerset fied to Warwick ! What say you, brother Eichard, will you stand to us ^ Glo. Ay, my lord, in despite of all that shall Withstand you. For why hath nature Made me halt downright, but that I Should be valiant and stand to it ? for if I would, I (cannot run away. l'da‘. Pembroke, go raise an army presently; ^ iFr. Hallivvell-Phillipps has pointed out the following parallel lines,— viz., Peele's Battle of Alcazar^ 1594,— “ And they that love my honour follow me.” And Biehard III. iii. 4,— The rest that love me, rise and follow me.” ICO THE TEUE TEAGEDY OF [act IV. Pitch up my tent, for in the field this night I mean to rest, and on the morrow morn I’ll march to meet proud Warwick ere he land. Those straggling troops which he hath got in France. But ere I go, Montague and Hastings, You, of all the rest, are nearest allied 111 blood to Warwick, therefore, tell me if You favour him more than me, or not. Speak truly, for I had rather have You open enemies than hollow friends. Mon. So God help Montague as he proves true ! Hast. And Hastings as he favours Edward’s cause ! Edu'. It shall suffice ; come let’s march away.’*^ \Exemt. SCENE II.- — A plain in Warwickshire. Enter Wakwick and Oxford with Soldiers. War. Trust me, my lords, all hitherto goes well ;t The common people, by numbers, swarm to us : But see where Somerset and Clarence come !J Speak suddenly, ray lords, are we all friends ? Cla. Fear not that, my lord. War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick ; And welcome, Somerset : I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love ; Else might I think that Clarence, Edward’s brother, * This scene in F. contains 166 lines, t This line, slightly varied, occurs in the next scene. X Here, apparently, Clarence and Somerset enter, but the entrance is not marked in the quarto ; the Folio corrected the omission. sc. II.] BICIIARD DUKE OF YORK, 161 Were but a feignM friend to our proceedings : But welcome, sweet Clarence, my daughter shall be thii^e. And now what rests but in night's coverture, Thy brother being carelessly encamped, His soldiers lurking in the town about, And but attended by a simple guard, We may surprise and take him at our pleasure ? Our scouts have found the adventure very easy."^ Then cry, King Jfenry/’ with resolved niinds. And break we presently into his tent, Cla. Why then let ’s on our way in silent sort, For Warwick and Jiis friends, God and Saint George !f [Exeunt. "I. SCENE III.— Edward’s Camp near Warwick. § Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, and Soldiers, War, This is his tent, and see where his guard doth Stand. Courage, my soldiers, now or never ! But follow me now, and Edward shall be ours. All, A “Warwick ! A Warwick ! * Here seven lines are added in F. t These two lines conclude Warwick’s speech in F. This scene in F. contains 29 lines. t In the old copy there is no indication of a change of scene here. A change however seems to be necessary ; it is very unlikely that the author would have adopted so crude a construction, and have left so much to the imagina- tion of his audience. A similar instance is found in Greene’s Pinner of Wukejild. The old copy is probably corrupt ; compare with the Folio. § The Folio play commences this scene with a dialogue between the Watch- men who guard King Edward’s tent. Nothing of the kind is in the old play. The addition in F. may have been the result of a later revisal, but I suspect something of the kind was shown in the representation of the old play, and its absence is due to the botcher. L 162 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act it. [J.Zams, awdT Gloster and Hastings ^ 2 ^. Oxf. Who goes there ? War, Bichard and Hastings : let them go, here is the duke. Edw. The duke ! why, Warwick when we parted last,^ Thou called’ st me king ! War, Ay, but the case is altered iiow» When you disgraced me in my embassage. Then I disgracedf you from being king, And now am come to create you Duke of York. Alas, how should you govern any kingdom, TJiat know not how to use ambassadors ?]: IS^or how to use your brothers brotherly, Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies: Edw, Well, Warwick, let fortune do her worsts Edward in mind will bear himself a king.§ War, Then, for his mind, be Edward England’s king: But Henry now shall wear the English crown. || Go, convey him to our brother archbishop Of York ; and when I have fought with Pembroke And his followers,^ ITl come and tell Thee what the Lady Bona says. And so, for awhile, farewell good Duke of York. [Exemit some icith Edward. Cla. What follows now, all hitherto goes well But we must dispatch some letters to France, To tell the queen of our happy fortune, * Lastt not in F. | p degraded. J Following this line, a line is added in F. § Edward’s speech in F. has 7 lines. II Here F. adds the following direction.— Take off his crown.” F. fellows. See note antSf p. 160. 8C. tll.] MCBARD DUKE OF YORK 163 And bid her come with speed to join with us. War, Ay, that ’s the first thing that we have to do, And free King Henry from imprisonment, And see him seated in his regal throne, Come, let us haste awny, and having passed these cares, I’ll post to York, ^nd see how pdward fares,^ [Exeunt^ SCENE lY.f — A park near Middleham Caf^tle in Yorkshire. Enter Glostek, Hastings, and Sir William Stanley. Glo. Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley, Know that the cause'! sent for you, is this : — I look my brother, with a slender train, Should come a-hunting in this forest here ; The bishop of York befriends him much. And lets him use his pleasure in the chase j Now I have privily sent him word. How I am come with you to rescue him : And see where the huntsman and he doth come, Enter Edward and a Huntsman JIunt. This way, my lord, the deer is gone, ^dw. No, this way, huntsman; see where The keepers stand. Now, brother, and the rest : — What ! are you provided to depart ? Glo, Ay, ay, the horse stands at the park corner ; Come to liynn, and sp take shipping into Flanders. ' Edw, Come, then. — Hastings and Stanley, I will Eequite your loves. — Bishop, farewell ; ' * This scene in F. contains 67 lines, t This scene is transposed in the Folio play, being iv. 5 , 164 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act IV. Shield thee from Warwick’s frown, And pray that I may repossess the crown. Now, huntsman, what will you do ? Hunt. Marry, my lord, I think I had as good Go with you, as tarry here to be hanged. Edw, Come^ then^ let’s away with speed. ^Exeunt omnes. SCENE T-t — Lcndon. A Room in the Tolace, Enter the Queen and the Lord Eiyehs. Riv. Tell me, good madam, why is your grace So passionate of late ? Queen. Yv^iy, brother Rivers, hear you not the news, Of that success^ King Edward had of late ? Riv. AVhat, loss of some pitched battle against Warwick ? Tush, fear not, fair queen, but cast those cares aside. King Edward’s noble mind his honours doth display. And Warwick may lose, though then he got the day. Queen, If that were all, my griefs 'were at an end : But greater troubles w ill, I fear, befall. Riv, AVhat, is he taken prisoner by the foe. To the danger of his royal person, then ? Queen. Ay, there ’s my grief : King Edward is sur- prised. And led away as prisoner unto York. Riv. The news is passing strange, I must confess : Yet comfort yourself, for Edward hath more friends, * This scene in F. has S4 lines. f This is scene iv. of the Folio, J Misfortune is the reading of the Folio, q.v. fee. y.] BICHARD DUKE OF YORK, 165 Than Lancaster at this time must perceive, That some will set him in his throne again. Queen, God grant they may ! but gentle brother, come, And let me lean upon thine arm awhile. Until I come unto the sanctuary, There to preserve the fruit within my womb. King Edward’s seed, true heir to England’s crown. ^ [Exeunt. {-UENE Vl.t— York. E}iter EdwakI) and Eiciiakd, and Hastings icith a troop of Hollanders. Edic. Thus far from Belgia have we passed the seas, And marched from Kavenspiir haven unto York : But soft, the gates are shut. — I like not this. Rich. Sound up the drum, and call them to the walls. Enter t],e Lord Mayor 0/ York upon the walls. Mayor. My lords, we liad notice of your coming. And that ’s the cause we stand upon our guard, And shut the gates for to preserve the town ; Henry now is king, and we are «worn to him. Edw. Why, my lord Mayor, if Henry be your king, Edward, I am sure, at least is Duke of York. Mayor. Truth, my lord, we know you for no less. Edw. I crave nothing but my dukedom. Rich. But when the fox hath gotten in his head He ’ll quickly make the body follow after. * This scene in F. contains 37 lines, t Scene vii. of the Folio. 166 THE TRUE TRAUEDY OF [act ir. Hast, Why, my lord Mayor, what stand you upon points ? Open the gates ; we are King Henry’s friends. Mayor. Say you so ? then I’ll open them presently. [Exit. Rich. By my faith, a wise stout eaptain, and soon persuaded. [77/e’ Mayor opens the door, and brings the Iceys in his hand. Edit'. So, my lord ]Ma3'or, these gates must not be shut, But in the time of war.: give me the keys. What, fear not, man, for Edward will defend The town and you, despite of all your foes. Enter Sir John Montgomery, icith drum and Soldiers. How^ now% liiehard, who is this ? Rich. Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, A trusty friend, unless I be deceived. Edic. YJeleoine, Sir John. Wherefore come you in arms ? Sir John. To help King Edw^ard in this time of storms, As every loyal subject ought to do. Edw, Thanks, brave Montgomery, But I only claim my dukedom. Until it please God to send the rest. Sir John. Then fare you well. — Drum, strike up, and let us March away : I came to serve a king, and not a duke.’^ Edw. Nay, stay, Sir John, and let us first debate. With what security we may do this thing. * Compare thie with the same speech in the Folio play. sc. VI.] MICHARD DUKE OF YORK. 167 Sir John. What, stand you on debating? to be brief, Except you presently proclaim yourself our king, I’ll hence again, and keep them back that come To succour you. Why should we fight, when you Pretend no title ? Rich. Pie, brother, fie ; stand you upon terms ? Kesolve yourself, and let us claim the crown. Edw. I am resolved once more to claim the crown. And win it too, or else to lose my life, Sir John. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself. And now will I be Edward’s champion. — Sound trumpets for Edward shall be proclaimed Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland ; — And whosoever gainsays King Edward’s right. By this I challenge him to single fight.. — • Long live Edward the Fourth All, Long liye pdward the Fourth ! Ediv. We thank you all. — Lord Mayor, lead on the way ;t For this night we ’ll harbour here in York, And then, as early as the morning sun Lifts up his beams above this horizon. We’ll march to London to meet with Warwick, And pull false Henry from the regal throne. J l^Exeunt omnes» * Compare this speech and the arrangement in the Folio, which furnishes another proof that the play was taken down during representation, + This speech is considerably altered in F. ^ This scene in F* contains 88 lines. 168 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act IV. SCENE — London. A Room in the Tower. Enter Warwick and Clarence, with the Crown ; and then King Henry, and Oxford and Somerset, and the young Earl of Richmond. King. Thus from the prison to this princely seat, By God’s great mercies am I brought again. Clarence and Warwick do you keep the crown, And govern and protect my realm in peace ; And I will spend the remnant of my da^’s, To Sin’s rebuke, and my Creator’s praise. f War. What answers Clarence to his sovereign’s will ? Cla. Clarence agrees to what King Henry likes. King. My lord of Somerset, wliat pretty boy Is that you seem to be so careful of ? Som. And it please your grace, it is young Henry Earl of Richmond. King. Henry of Richmond, Come hither, pretty lad. If heavenly powers Do aim aright to my divining thoughts, Thou, pretty boy, shalt prove this country’s bliss ; Thy head is made to wear a princel}^ crown. Thy looks are all replete with majesty.J — Make much of him, my lords, for this is he, Shall help you more than you are hurt by me.§ [Exeunt. * Scene vi. of the Folio play. t In the old copy the metre of this speech is very corrupt ; as it is there arranged the rhyming couplet at the end is lost. i This line, with only a slight verbal difference, occurs on p, 146 1. 16, §This scene in F. cot. tains 103 lines. It will be seen that large additions have been made to the scene as it stands in the old play ; the two texts should be read together. sc. VIII.] MCHARD DUKE OF YORK, 169 SCENE VIII. — London. A Boom in the Palace, Enter one vnth a letter to Waewick. War, What counsel, lords ? Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, Is passed in safety through the narrow seas, And with his troops doth march amain towards''^ London, And many giddy people follow him.f Oxf, ’Tis best to look to this betimes. For if this fire do kindle any further. It will be hard for us to quench it out. War, In W'arwickshire I have true-hearted friends. Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war : Thenij* will I muster up, and thou, son Clarence, Shalt, in Essex, Sulfolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, Stir up the knights and gentlemen to come with thee ; — And thou, brother Montague, in Leicestershire, Buckingham, and Northamptonshire, § shalt find Men well inclined to do what thou commands : — And thou, brave Oxford, wond’rous well beloved, Shalt in thy countries || muster up thy friends. — . My sovereign with his loving citizens,^ Shall rest in London till we come to him. * F. <0 London.” t Q. 1619,—“ And many gfiddy-headed people follow him.” F. — “ And many giddy people flock to him.” X F. those, § The sequence of the counties is different in F. II Query, county ; F. “ in Oxfordshire. ^ Here the two following lines are added in F. ,— Like to his island, girt in with the ocean. Or modest Dian, circled with her nymphs.” 170 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [ACT IV. Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply. — Farewell, my sovereign. King, Farewell, my Hectol*, my Troy’s true hope. War, Farewell, sweet loTds, let’s meet at Coventry. All, Agreed ! [Exeunt omnes. Enter Edward and Ms train, Edw, Seize on the shame-faced Henry, And once again convey him to the Tower : Away with him, I will not hear him speak ! And now towards Coventry let us bend our course. To meet with Warwick and his confederates.^'^ [Exeunt omy.es. ACT V. SCENE I.— Coventry. Enter Warwick on the icalls.] War, Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford ? How far hence is thy lord, my honest fellow ? Ox, post. By this, at Daintry^ marching hitherward. War, Where is our brother Montague ? Where is the post that came from Montague ? * This scene in F. has 64 lines. The muddled stage directions of this scene are worth noting : at the opening it reads “ Enter one with a letter to War- wick,” the entrance of King Henry, Oxford, and the other Lords is not marked. Again, towards the close, after the agreement to meet at Coventry, Exeunt omnes is placed, when it is clear, from the subsequent speech of Edward, who here enters, that the King at least is on the stage. Such trans- parent bungling tells its own story. The arrangement is very different in the Folio, and the variations are important, q. v. t Compare this direction with the Folio, J F. Dunsmore, 171 £C. I ] DUKE OF YOkK. Post, 1 left him at Dunsmore^ with his troops,! War. Say, Sommerfield,! where is my loving son? And by thy guess how far is Clarence hence ? Som. At Southam, my lord, I left him with his force, And do expect him two hours hence. TFar. Then, Oxford, § is at hand, I hear his drum. Enter Edward and his power. Glo. See, brother, where the surly Warwick mans the wall. TTar. C)h, unhid spite ! is spotful|| Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced. That we could have no news of their repair ?^ Ediv. Now, Warwick, wilt thou be sorry for thy faults, And call Edward king? and he will pardon thee. War, Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces back, Confess who set thee up and pulled thee down ? Call Warwick patron, and be penitent, And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. Glo, 1 had thought at least he would have said the king. Or did he make the jest against his will?‘^’*^ TFar. ’Twas Warwick gave the kingdom to thy brother. Edw, Wh}^ then, ’tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift. War. Ay, but thou art no Atlas for so great a weight : And weakling Warwick takes his gift again ; Henry is my king, Warwick his subject, Edw. Ay, pr’ythee, gallant Warwick, tell me this ; What is the body, when the head is off ? * F. Daintry. t Here F. has “ Enter Sir John Somerville, i F. Somerville. § F. Clarence, || F. sportful, ^ F. “ hear no news of his repair.” Three lines added here in F, 172 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act V. Glo, Alas, that Warwick had no more foresight, But whilst he sought to steal the single ten, The king was finelyf fingered from the deck ! You left poor Henry in the bishop^ s palace, And, ten to one, you ’ll meet him iu the Tower. Edw, ’Tis even so : and yet you are old Warwick still. Wci^f Oh, cheerful colours, see where Oxford comes [ Enter Oxford with drum and Soldiers, and all Oxf, Oxford, Oxford for Lancaster ! [Exit, Edw. The gates are open, see they enter in ; Let ’s follow them, and bid them battle in the streets. Glo. No ; so, some other might set upon our backs ; We T1 stay till all be entered, and then follow them, Enter Somfhset, with drum and Soldiers, Som. Somerset, Somerset for Lancaster !. [Exit, Glo. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York ; And thou shaft be the third, if my sword hold. Enter Montague, icith drum and Soldiers. § Mon. Montague, Montague for Lancaster ! [Exit. Edw, Traitorous Montague, thou and thy brother, * F. forecast. t i.e. Subtly reads slyly. See notes of the commentators on the passage. X There is some confusion here, probably due to the mistake of the short* Jiand writer. F. reads, — Enter Oxford with drum and Soldiers. War, Oh, cheerful colours, see where Oxford comes. Ox, Oxford, Oxford for Lancaster ” The Exit here and lower down, should be changed to Exeunt. § The entrances of Somerset and Montague are transposed in F, fee. 1.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK. 173 Shall dearly buy this rebellious act. Enter Clarence, with drum and Soldiers. War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of power enough to bid his brother battle. Cla. Clarence, Clarence for Lancaster Ediu. Et tUj Brute !■[ wilt thou stab Csesar too ? A parley, sirrah, to George of Clarence. J [Sound a parley ; Bicuard and Clarence whisper together, and then Clarence tahes his red Rose out of his hat and throios it at Warwick. War. Come, Clarence, come ; thou wilt if Warwick call. Cla. Father of Warwick, know you what this means? I throw mine infamy at thee : I will not ruinate my father’s house. Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster. Thinkest thou That Clarence is so harsh unnatural, § To lift his sword against his brother’s life ?|| And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee. And to my brothers turn my blushing cheeks. — Pardon me, Edward, for I have done amiss ; And, Bichard, do not frown upon me. For henceforth I will prove no more unconstant. Ed%o, Welcome, Clarence, and ten times more welcome, Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate. Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is brotherly. * This line not in F. t Et tUy hrute ! occurs in Julius Ccesar, iii. 1. i These two lines not in F. § F. reads, — “ Why trowest thou, Warwick, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt unnatural.” 1! Following this, 9 lines are added in F. 174 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act V. War, Oh, passing traitor, perjured and unjust! Edw, Now, Warwick,^ wilt thou leave The town and fight, or shall we beat the stones About thine ears ? War, Why, I am not cooped up here for defence ; I will away to Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest. Edw, Yes, Warwick, he dares, and leads the way. — Lords^ to the field ; — Saint George and victory !*^ [Exeunt omnes. SCENE II. — A Field of Battle near Barnet. Alarms, and then enter Warwick icoimded.^^ War, Ah, who is nigh ? Come to me, friend or foe. And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warv^ ick ? Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows, That I must yield my body to the earth. And, by my fall, the conquest to my foes. Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge. Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, J Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; '\yhose top branch overpeered Jove’s spreading tree:§ * This scene in F. contains 114 lines. t See directions in F. At the commencement of the scene in F. there is a speech of 4 lines by Warwick not found in the old play, X Cf. Marlowe’s Edward //, ii. 2, — “ A lofty cedar tree, fair flourishing, On whose top branches kingly eagles perch.” § After this line 4 are added in F. This fact proves, I think, that the early quartos were printed from notes taken during representation, and not from the author’s MS., for the lines left out of the old play are necessary to the completion of the metaphor. klCHARB DUKE OF YORK. 175 sn. n.] The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres For who lived king, but I could dig his grave ? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow ? Lo, now my glory smeared in dust and blood I My parks, my walks, my manors that I had. Even now forsake me ; and of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body’s length. f Enter Oxronn and Somerset. Oxf, x\h, Warwick, Warwick ! cheer up thyself and liy®* For yet there ’s hope enough to win the day. Our warlike queen with troops is come from France, And at Southampton landed all her train. And might’ st thou liye, then would we never fly.J War. Why, then I would not fly, nor have I now, But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; For many wounds received and many moe repaid, Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength. And spite of spites needs must I yield to death. Thy brother Montagim, hath breathed his last ; And at the pangs of death I heard him cry. And say — ‘‘ Commend me to my valiant brother;” * Of. A rden oj Feversharn, iii. 1, — “ The wrinkles in hiis |oul death-threatening face, Gapes open wide like graves to swallow men.” t In F. a rhyming couplet is inserted at the end of this speech, which occurs in the old play at the commencement of Warwick’s speech a few lines lower tiown. X This speech is given differently in F. The difference appears to me to be such as would occur on revision, rather than an alteration or elaboration of another writer’s work. 176 THE fEVM TEAGEDT OF [act V. And more he would have spoke, and more he said,^ Which sounded like a clamourf in a vault, That could not be distinguished for the sound ; And so the valiant Montague gave up the ghost. War. What is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ? And live we how we can, yet die we must.J Sweet rest his soul ! — Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven. § [Dies. Oxf. Come, noble Somerset, let’s take our horse, And cause retreat be sounded through the camp, That all our friends that yet remain alive. May be awarned|| and save themselves by flight. That done, with them we ’ll post unto the queen, ^ And once more try our fortune in the field. [Exeunt amho, Sr ENE III . — Another jpart of the Field. Enter Edwakb, Clarence, Gloster with Soldiers, Edw. Thus still our fortune gives us victory. And girts our temples with triumphant joj^’s. The big-boned traitor Warwick hath breathed his last, And heaven this day hath smiled upon us all ; But in this clear and brightsome day, * F. reads,— “ And more he would have said, and more he spoke.** t F. cannon. See notes of the commentators. X See note ante, p. 176. These two lines are evidently misplaced, and should be at the end of Warwick's previous speech. § Cf. Richard III. iii. 3, — “ Farewell, until we meet again in heaven.’* II Q. \^\^y forewarned. Oxford’s speech in F. is limited to one line. This scene in F. contains 60 lines. 177 sc. lit.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK. I see a black, suspicious cloud appear, That will encounter with our glorious sun, Before he gain his easeful western beams I mean those powers which the queen hath got in France, Are landed, and mean once more to menace us.f Glo. Oxford and Somerset are fled to her, And ’tis likely if she have time to breathe. Her faction will be full as strong as ours. Edw. We are advertised by our loving friends, That they do hold their course towards Tewksbury ; Thither will we, for willingness rids way, And in every countyj as we pass along, Our strengths shall be augmented. Come, let ^s go, For if we slack this fair bright summer’s day. Sharp winter’s showers will mar our hope for hay.§ [Exeunt omnes, * F. bed. Beams is the coinage of the botcher, or a careless compositor, t In F., following Edward’s speech, there is inserted a speech by Clarence of 4 lines, and an extra line tagged on to Gloster’s next speech is not in the old play. X q. 1619, country. § The last lines of this scene are thus arre,nge4 in the old copy “ Come, let's go, for if we slack this fair Bright summer’s day, sharp winter’s Showers will mar our hope for hay. ” By this arrangement the metre of the lines is destroyed, and the rhyming couplet lost ; who was responsible for the arrangement ? The above couplet is not found in the same place in F. but occurs, slightly modified, at the end of IV. 8,— “ The sun shines hot, and if we use delay, Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.” This scene in F. has 24 lines, M 178 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [act v. SCENE IV . — Plains near Tewksbury. Enter the Queen, Prince Edward, Oxford, Somerset, with drum and Soldiers. Queen. Welcome to England, my loving friends of France : — And welcome, Somerset, and Oxford too. I)nce more have we spread our sails abroad. And though our tacking be almost consumed, And Warwick as our mainmast overthrown. Yet, warlike lords, raise you that sturdy post. That bears the sails, to bring us unto rest ; And Ned and I, as willing pilots should, For once with careful minds guide on the stern. To bear us through that dangerous gulf, That heretofore hath swallowed up our friends.’^ Prince. And if there be, as God forbid there should. Amongst us a timorous or fearful man. Let him depart before the battles join. Lest he in time of need entice another, And so withdraw the soldiers’ hearts from us. I will not stand aloof and bid you fight. But with my sword press in the thickest throngs, And single Edward from his strongest guard. And hand to hand enforce him for to yield. Or leave my body as witness of my thoughts. Oxf. Women and children of so high resolve, And warriors faint ! why, ’t were perpetual shame.— ^ In F. Queen Margaret’s speech is expanded to 38 lines. BC. IV.] mCHARB DUKE OF YORK, 179 Oh, brave young prince ! thy noble"^ grandfather^ Doth live again in thee : long mayst thou live, To bear his image, and to renew his glories, Som, And he that turns and flies wheu such do fight^ Let him to bed, and like the owl by day, Be hissed and wondered at if he arise. f Enter a Messenger, Mes. My lords, Duke Edward with a mighty power. Is marching hitherwards to fight with you. Oxf, I thought it was his policy to take us unprovided j But here will we stand, and fight it to the death. Enter King Epwakd, Clarence, Gloster, Hastings and Soldiers. Edio, See, brothers, yonder stands the thorny wood. Which, by God’s assistance, and your prowess. Shall with our swords jei; night be pleap cut down. Queen, Lords, kpights, uud gentlemen, what I should say, ^ My tears gainsay ; for, as you see, I drink The water of mine eyes ; then, no more But this : Henry your king is prisoner In the Tower ; his land, and all our friends Are quite distressed ; and yonder stands The wolf that makes all this ; Then, on God’s name, lords, together cry, ^ Saint George!^ All, Saint George for Lancaster [Exeunt > * F. famous. t Compare this with the corresponding speech in F. ^ This scene in F. contains 82 lines.^ 180 THE TELE TEA GEE Y OF [act V. SCENE V. — Another part of the Field, Alarms to the battle ; York fies, then the chambers be dis~ charged. Then enter the King, Clarence, Gloster, and the rest, and make a great shout, and cry , — For York, for York And then the Queen is taken, and the Prince, and Oxford, and Somerset, and then sound and enter all again. Edw. Lo, here a period of tumultuous broils. — Away with Oxford to Hammes’ castle straight : For Somerset, otf with his guilty head. Away, I will not hear them speak ! Oxf, For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words. [Exit, Som. Nor I ; but stoop with patience to my death. [Exit, Edw. Now, Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, Eor stirring up my subjects to rebellion ? Prince, Speak like a subject, proud, ambitious York. Suppose that I am novr my father’s mouth : Pesign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the self same words to thee. Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. Queen, Oh, that thy father had been so resolved ! Glo, That you might still have kept your petticoat, f And ne’er have stol’n the breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let .^sop fable in a winter’s night ; His currish riddles sortj not with this place. * Compare with the directions in F, t F. “ worn your petticoat.” t i,e . , Agrees not. gc. V.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK, 181 Glo, By heaven, brat, I’ll plague you for that word L Queen. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. Glo, For God’s sake take away this captive scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crookback, rather. Cla. Untutored lad, thou art too malapert. Edw, Peace, wilful boy, or I will tame your tongue. Prince. I know my duty : you are all undutiful, — Lascivious Edward, and thou, perjured George, And thou, misshapen Dick, — I tell you all, I am your better, traitors as you be.‘^ Edw, Take that, the likenessf of this railer here. [Stabs him. Queen. Oh, kill me too ! Glo. Marry, and shall. Edw. Hold, Pichard, hold ! for we have done too much already 4 Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with words ? Edw, What, doth she swound ? make means for her recovery. Glo, Clarence, excuse me to the king, my brother ; I must to London on a serious matter : Ere you come there, you shall hear more news. Cla. About what ? pr’ythee tell me. Glo. The Tower, man, the Tower ! I’ll root them out. [Exit. Queen. Ah, Ned ! speak to thy mother, boy : — ah. Thou canst not speak ! * Here F. adds the following line,— “ And thou usurp’st my father’s right and mine.” t Q. 1696, litnes ; Q.1600, lightness ; Q. 1619, thou likeness : F. the likeness^ etc. After this line, Q. 1619 inserts the stage direction “ Stabs him,” which is also found in F. but not in the early quartos. X This word, which gives the line an extra metrical foot, is not in F. 18 ^ THE TRUE TRAUEHY OF [act V Traitors, tyrants, bloody homicide^. They that stabbed Caesar, shed no blood at all,^ For he was a man, this in respect a child ; And men ne’er spend their fury on a child. What’s worse than tyrant, that I may name [it] ?f You have no children, devils ; if you had. The thought of them would have stopped your rage : J But if you ever hope to have a son. Look in his youth to have him so cut off. As, traitors, you have done this sweet young prince ! Edii), Away, and bear her hence. Queen. Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here ; Here sheathe thy sword. I’ll pardon thee my death. Wilt thou not ?— then, Clarence, do thou do it, CJa, By heaven, I would not do thee so much ease. Queen. Good Clarence, do ; sweet Clarence, hill me too, Cla. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it ? Queen. Ay, but thou usest to forswear tliyself ; ’Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity. — Where’s the devil’s butcher, hard-favoured Eichard? Eichard, where art thou ? He is not here ; Murder is his arms-deed ; petitioners For blood he ne’er put back. Ediu. Away, I say, and take her hence, perforce. Queen. So corno to you and yours, as to this prince, [Exit, Edio. Clarence, whither ’s Gloster gone ? Cla. Marry, my lord, to London ; and as I guess, * Two lines added here in F. t Four lines added here in F. I A similar thought occurs in Macbeth, jy. 3. 8C. V.] RICHARD DUKE OF YORK 183 To make a bloody supper in the Tower. Edw. He is sudden if a thing comes in his head. — Well, discharge the common soldiers with pay, And thanks : — and now let us towards London, To see our gentle (][ueen how she doth fare ; Lor by this, I hope, she hath a son for us.^ [Exeunt, SCENE VI. — A room in the Tower, Eiutcr Glos'jt£R to King Henry. Glo. Good day, my lord. What, at your books so hard ? King. Ay, my good lord : lord I should say rather ; ’Tis sin to flatter, good was little better : Good Gloster and good devil, were all alike. — What scene of death hath Rosciusf now to act ? Glo. Suspicion always haunts a guilty mind.J King. The bird once limed doth fear the fatal bush And I the helpless male to one poor bird, Have now the fatal object in mine eye. Where my poor young was limed, was caught and killed. Glo. Why, what a fool was that of Crete, that taught His son the offlce of a bird, and yet For all that, the poor fowl was drowned. King. I, Daedalus ; my poor son, Icarus ; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course ; Thy brother, Edward, the sun that seared his wings ; And thou, the envious gulf that swallowed him.J * This scene in F. contains 88 lines* i It is very probable that Richard Burbage was the original Richard of these two plays, and continued it in Richard ///., thereby acquiring the name Roscius Richard, by which he was afterwards known. I A line added here in F, 184 THE TEVE TEAGEBY OF [ACT V. Oh, better cau my breast abide thy dagger’s point, Than can mine ears that tragic history.'^ Glo, Why, dost tliou think I am an executioner ? King. A persecutor I am sure thou art ; And if murdering innocents be executions. Then I know thou art an executioner. Glo. Thy son I killed for his presumption. King. Hadst thou been killed when first thou didst presume. Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. And thus I propliesy of thee : — That many a widow for her husband’s death, And many an infant’s water-standing eye. Widows for their husbands, children for their fathers, Shall curse the time that ever thou wert born.f The owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign ; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless tune ; Dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees ; The raven rooked J her on the chimney’s top. And chattering pies in dismal discord sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother’s pain. And yet brought forth less than a mother’s hope ; To wit, an indigest§ created lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, To signify thou cain’st to bite the world ; And if the rest be true that I have heard, * A line added here in F. t Given rather differently in F. , q. v. j i,c. , squatted, lodged. § F. “ an indigested and deformed lump.” The metre shows the word in the old play to be the right one. Shakespeare uses indigest in King John^ V. 7, and no where else. “ Indigested lump,” is in 2 Hen. VI. v. 6. BC. VI.] bicbaud duke of yofk 185 Tliou earnest into the world — ^ Glo. Die, prophet, in thy speech, — I’ll hear no more ; him. For this, amongst the rest was I ordained. King. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. — Oh, God, forgive my sins, and pardon me ! [Dies, Glo. What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink into the ground? I thought it would have mounted. f See how my sword weeps for the poor king’s death ! Now, may such purple tears be always shed For such as seek the downfall of our house ! — If any spark of life remain in thee, [Stabs him again^ Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither I, that have neither pity, love nor fear. — Indeed, ’t was true that Henry told me of j For I have often heard my mother say^. That I came into the world with my legs forward ; * “ Into the iipt in F. Sec Theobald’s note in Steevens’ Shake siyeare. t Alarlowe’s jjdtrard II. i. 1,— “ Frown’st thou aspinn^ L^ncas^er ?’’ Highb' scorning ^liat the lowly earth, Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air.” Ih. v, 1. X The following passage from Greene’s Alphonsus, King of Arragon, 1599, has been adduced by the commentators as a proof that Greene had sopie shar ^ in the wTiting of these plays “ Go, pack thee hence unto the Stygian lake, And make report unto thy traitorous sire. How w^ell thou hast enjoyed the diadem. Which he by treason set upon th}’^ head ; And if he ask thee who did send thee down, Alphonsus say, who now must w^ear the crown ” I am not disposed to attach much importance to the “ striking coincidence” between the two passages, and if I mistake not, other similar lines could be quoted from old plays in which neither Greene nor Shakespeare had a hand. Mr. Collier himself cites one from the prose History of HamUet, 1608 spe his Shakespeare, vol. IV. p. 210, ed. 1858. 186 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF [ACT V. And had I not reason, think you, to make haste, And seek their ruins that usurped our rights ? The women wept, and the midwife cried, Oh, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth I” And so I was indeed ; which plainly signified — That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since heaven hath made my body so, Jjet hell make crook’d my mind to answer it, I had no father, I am like no father ; I have no brothers,! I am like no brothers ; And this word Love, which greybeards term divine, Be resident in men like one another, Aad not in me : I am myself alone. — Clarence, beware ! thou keep’st me from the light ; But I will sort a pitchy day for thee i Eor I will buz abroad such propecies,{ As Edward shall be fearful of his life ; And then to purge his fear. I’ll be thy death. Henry and his son are gone ; thou, Clarence, next J And by one and one I will dispatch the rest Counting myself bi|t bad, till I be best. — * Q. 1619, — “ The women weeping, and the midwife crying,’’ F. reads, — “ The midwife wondered, and the women cried.*? t Q. 1619, and F. brother. X After this line Q. 1619 has the following — Under pretence of outward seeming ill.” F. agrees with the old play. § Instead of this and the preceding line, Q. 1619 h^,— • King Henry, and the pnnce, his son, are gone, And Clarence thou ^.rt next must follow them , So one by one dispatching all the rest.” rhe Folio reading is this “ King Henry, and the prince, his son, are gone, Clarence, tihy turn is next, and then the rfst.’? sc. VI.] men ARB DUKE OF YORK. 187 I’ll drag thy body in another room, And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom."^ \Exit. SCENE VII. — London. A room in the Palace, Enter King Edwaud, Queen Elizabeth, and a Nurse with the young Pkince, and Clakenci:^ [Gloster,] and Has- Tiis^Gs, and others, Edw. C)nce more we sit in England'^s royalf throne, Kepurchased with the blood of enemies, What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn, Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride ! Three dukes of Somerset, three-fold renowned For hardy and undoubted champions ; Two Cliffords, as the father and the son ] And two Northumberlands, two braver men Ne’er spurred their coursers at the trumpet’s sound ; With them, the two rough bears, Warwick and Montague;^ That in their chains fettered the kingly lion. And made the forest tremble when they roared. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat. And made our footstool of security. — Come hithei% Bess, and let me kiss my boy, — : Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself. Have in our armours watched the winter’s night ; Marched all afoot in summer’s scalding heat. That thou might’ st repossess the crown in peace ; And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. Glo. I’ll blast his harvest, and your head were laid ^ * This scene in F. contains 93 lines, t This word is not in Q. 1619. 188 THE TRUE TRAGEDY OE [act V. For yet I am not looked on in the world. This shoulder was ordained so thick, to heave ; And heave it shall some weight, or break my back. Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute. [^Aside, Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely queen ; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both."^ Cla, The duty that I owe unto your majesty, I seal upon the roseatef lips of this sweet babe. Queen, Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy brother thanks.J Glo. And that I love the fruit from whence thou sprang^ st, Witness the loving kiss I give the chikb^-^ To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master, And'so be cried, All hail and meant all harm. [Aside, Ediv, Now am I seated as my soul delights. Having my country’s peace, and brothers’ loves. || Cla. What will your grace have done with Margaret ? Eanard,^ her father, to the King of Franpe Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem, * This speech in Q. 1619 is given thus : — “ Brothers of Clarence an4 of Glostef, Pray love my lovely queen, And kiss your princely nephew, both, t This >vord not in F. X F. gives this line to Clarence, but it really belongs to King Edward, and is given to him in F. 1664 ; some modern editors retain it for the Queen as in fihe old play. § F. reads,— “ And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang’st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.’* * * § II This line is omitted in Q. 1619 ; it is in F. m F. Raynard. sc. VIL] niCIIARD DUKE OF YORK 189 And hither have they sent it"^ for her ransom. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence to France. — And now what rests, but that we spend the time With stately triumphs,! and mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasures of the court ? Sound drums and trumpets,— farewell to sour annoy! For here,. X hope, begins our lasting joy.J [Exeunt omnes, ^ Here Mr. Halliwell-Phillips remarks,— “ Unless there be some omission in this speech, as Douce observes, it must either be regarded e.s improperly el- liptical or as ungrammatical. It refers to the sum of money borrowed by Mar- garet’s father, which is mentioned by the French historians to have been fifty thousand croVvns. The author of the play followed Holinshead. S^e Douce’s Illustrations, ii. 31.” The Folio agrees with the above text. fi.e. Pageants. f This scenedn F. contains 46 lines. THE EXD, A- ■’ ifrv « / r iy; : ^ t. . -.r ^•S.; ’; ■■■.rr:.yr' '* i''''”.v»*V*-- 1- ' ' ■*»,■