No More Learning

'
The share of Shakespeare need not be discussed here; the
play is crude and lumpish ; it is stilted and monotonous in the
1 C1. , as to the indications of a cooperation by Webster in this play, post,
chap. VII.


## p. 70 (#88) ##############################################

70
Middleton and Rowley
<
a
6
verse, gross and tame in the prose. It would be pleasant to think
that Rowley had no more to do with it than Shakespeare; but it
is difficult to be positive in the matter after reading A Shoo-maker
a Gentleman
This incongruous and incoherent piece is a tragic farce, which
has never been reprinted from the execrable first edition of 1638,
where the printer, in his address to 'the honest and high-spirited
gentlemen of the never decaying art, called the gentle craft,'
admits with some candour: I know it may come short of that
accurateness both in plot and style that this witty age doth with
greater curiosity require'; yet excuses it, on the ground 'that as
plays were then, some twenty years ago, it was in the fashion. '
It is a sad jumble of cobblers, kings, 'a wise virgin in Wales' and
a Juliet's nurse ; at one moment, 'an angel ascends out of the
well and after descends again,' at another, there is drinking of
blood, and we hear in detail of tortures endured in war; the
language varies from 'Moulting tyrant, stop thy scandalous
breath,' used by quarrelling kings, to 'Clapperdudgeon' and
Knipperdolin,' flung as pet names by the cobbler at his wife.
The few good lines which we come across at rare intervals are
almost cruelly wasted; the farce which submerges them is a mere
desperate attempt at comic realism.
On the title-page of A new Wonder, Rowley is described as
one of his Majesties Servants'; he is mentioned among the
principal actors in The Maid in the Mill; in The Inner-Temple
Masque, he played Plumporridge ; and, in the list of persons in
Als Lost by Lust, we are told that Jaques, “a simple clownish
gentleman,' was 'personated by the poet. ' In the plays which he
wrote in collaboration with Middleton, his hand has been most
generally traced in the comic underplots, and, sometimes, as a dis-
turbing element there, working for hardly more than the ears of
the groundlings. In the low peasants' humour, earthy and almost
animal, over which he takes much trouble in all these plays, some-
times making it really droll, always making it emphatic and
telling, there seems to have been something which he really cared
to do, perhaps because it was what he could represent best on the
stage. In the two chief plays which he wrote by himself, he
wove comic prose not ineffectively into more serious substance;
but in A Shoo-maker a Gentleman, and, indeed, in most of the
work done with Middleton, it stands out in sharp contrast. And
1 As to The Birth of Merlin and its relation to Middleton's The Mayor of Quin-
borough, see ante, vol. v, chap. x.


## p. 71 (#89) ##############################################

Rowley's Alls Lost by Lust
71
this is the more curious, as we shall find unmistakable signs of a
very different kind of influence exercised by him upon precisely
that serious substance.
For it is not as a comic poet that Rowley is most himself, or
most admirable.
Of his two remaining plays, one is a heroic
tragedy and the other a pathetic domestic comedy; and we find in
both, very differently exhibited, the same qualities of sincerity
and nobility, often turning to uncouthness or exaggeration, but
never, as in Middleton, losing the moral sense, the honesty of
insight. The action in each is strained beyond probability, and in
one becomes barbarous, in the other artificial ; the verse follows
the action, and halts not only through the treasons of a more than
usually treacherous printer. Yet, as the verse is but an emphasis
upon profoundly felt speech, so the action rests always on a strong
human foundation.
In Alls Lost by Lust (which deals with a subject made more
famous by Landor in Count Julian), Rowley shows himself a poet
by his comprehension of great passions, his sympathy with high
moods, and by a sheer and naked speech, which can grasp filth or
heroism with equal strength. He has no measure, though sometimes
constraint; no subtlety, though he will set consciences or clowns
arguing in terms of strange pedantry; no sentiment, though he
has all the violences of direct emotion; and he says what he wants
to say and then stops. He has no ease or grace, and often labours
to give point to his humour and weight to his serious utterances.
The kind of verse that characterises him at his best is
Thy soul is a hired lackey towards hell,
ལྗོངོ
and he can sharpen it thus :
Time's ancient bawd, opportunity,
Attends us now, and yet our flaming blood
Will soarce give leave to opportunity.
Often he will go beyond the bounds of natural speech, not on a
carrying imagination, but under the dragging weight of an
emphasis which eloquence can do better without. In some of
Blake's drawings of naked men with prodigious muscles, sweeping
beards and frantic eyes, the intense imitation of emotion has
gone further than nature can support. Just so does some of the
tragic speech in Rowley falter through defects of mere force.
'Rough Rowley, handling song with Esau's hand,' as Swinburne
bas called him in a significant line, sets himself to construct
imagery, and does it, sometimes with splendour, but a splendour
a


## p. 72 (#90) ##############################################

72
Middleton and Rowley
prolonged to extinction. Thus, he will develop a figure after this
manner :
We'll make so high to quench their silver moons
And on their caroases an isthmus make
To pass their straits again and forage them.
Both in fun and in earnest, he plays on words, and is capable of
writing ‘My heart's triangled,' as Donne might have done, and of
distinguishing the number and position of the points. More often
he does it in this wholly Elizabethan manner :
My honoured friends,
What we all thought to have borne home in triumph
Must now be seen there in a funeral,
Wrecked honour being chief mourner; here's the hearse
Which we'll all follow.
Even his 'virgin martyrs,' like Jacinta, who act nobly, are some-
times set talking with horrible detail, as, like Jacinta, they spit at
their tormentors and wish
that my tongue
Were pointed with a fiery Pyramis
To strike thee through.
It is impossible for him to realise, even in his Dionysia, who dies
with some of the ecstasy of Shakespeare's Cleopatra, that a woman
can be lascivious without talking like a courtesan. His men can say
memorable things, in which there is some of the passion of medita-
tion; but, however well he knew what kind of thing a man's
heart' is, he did not know how to give continuously adequate
speech to those passions of whose habitation there he was aware.
In A new Wonder, of which the scene lies in London, and which
shows us the strange vehement passions, both petty and ardent, of
business men, their small prides and large resolutions, we have
a speech more easily on the level of the occasion, whether in this
heightened way:
Then be not angry, gentle sir,
If now a string be touch'd, which hath too long
Sounded so harshly over all the city;
I now would wind it to a musical height;
or whether the unrelenting father in prison repels his son with the
direct cry:
Ha! what art thou? Call for the keeper there,
And thrust him out of doors, or lock me up.
Here, as elsewhere, the language is sometimes injured by em-
phasis, yet there is nothing of Middleton's aim at point and


## p. 73 (#91) ##############################################

Middleton and Rowley's A Faire Quarrell
73
cleverness, but a speech vividly, and sometimes grossly, natural,
which sticks close to the matter. Its comedy is a kind of
literalness, and so is its pathos ; both are crammed with fine
substance, thoughtful humour and thoughtful pity, with that
simple acceptance and rendering of things as they are which
Lamb noted in the play with much satisfaction. It is of this play
that he says : ‘The old play-writers are distinguished by an honest
boldness of exhibition, they show everything without being
ashamed. ' Here, there is coarseness and there is clumsiness, but
there is no flaw in the essential truthfulness and reality of the
contest in hearts, in which a natural human charity has its way
with invincible softness.
Now, if we begin to look for the influence of Rowley upon
Middleton, we shall find it not so much in the set scenes of low
comedy which he inserted among Middleton's verse, as in a new
capacity for the rendering of great passions and a loftiness in
good and evil which is not to be recognised as an element in
Middleton's brilliant and showy genius, and which hardly survives
the end of his collaboration with Rowley. The whole range of
subject suddenly lifts; a new, more real and more romantic world
(more real and more romantic because imagination, rather than
memory, is at work) is seen upon the stage; and, by some trans-
formation which could hardly have been mere natural growth,
Middleton finds himself to be a poet.
That Middleton learnt from Rowley, or did, with his help, more
than either of them could do by himself, is evident for the first
time clearly in A Faire Quarrell. The best part of the actual
writing is not Rowley's. Middleton was a man of flexible mind,
and we find in him everywhere a marvellous tact of matching his
matter and manner. Never, in his wild comedies, does he bring in
false heroics ; he can keep on a due actual level beyond any
dramatist of his time ; and, when a great human moment comes to
him, and has to be dealt with, he rises easily, and is no less
adequate. He does not rise of himself-his material compels him,
he is obedient to it, and, as it would seem, awake to a fierier
impulse like Rowley's. It is certain that Rowley could not have
written the two great captain Ager scenes as they stand; but it
is equally certain that, with all his promptness of response to an
emotion, Middleton could not have begun to render, at such a
moral height, such an 'absolute man,' without some spiritual aid
or lift from Rowley. When there, when started, he drew his
poetry, as he was wont to do, directly from his subject, and the


## p. 74 (#92) ##############################################

74
Middleton and Rowley
natural emotion of it ; and made a great scene where a weak one
would have been contemptible. Can nature and poetry go further
together, poetry hardly distinguishable from the direct speech of
nature, so warmed is it by human breath? Captain Ager's last
words to his mother shine like fire and cut like steel, and are
mere plain words with no more rhetoric in them than in this line,
which strikes straight :
I never shall have need of honour more.
In the scene of the duel, when all this fire in the man's soul is
out, the tamer verses are not less absolute in their disheartened
speech :
What shall be done in such a worthless business
But to be sorry,
and to be forgiven;
You, sir, to bring repentance, and I pardon ?
That the writing, in the two great scenes of captain Ager, is
Middleton's, and owes nothing in form, whatever it may owe in
substance, to Rowley, can be proved beyond doubt by a mere
reading over together of two speeches, one in this play, one in a
play so wholly and characteristically Middleton's as A Chast
Mayd in Cheape-side—the speech of captain Ager, which begins
Mine? think me not so miserable,
and ends
Without which I'm ten fathoms under coward,
That now am ten degrees above a man,
Which is but one of virtue's easiest wonderg);
and the speech of Sir Walter which begins
0 death! is this
A place for you to weep?
and ends
this shows like
The fruitless sorrow of a careless mother,
That brings her son with dalliance to the gallows,
And then stands by and weeps to see him suffer.
The difference is all in the feeling ; there is none in the phrasing.
But the difference in the feeling! There is no indication, in
anything which Middleton has so far written by himself, that he
was capable of conceiving a character like captain Ager, or of
keeping such a character on a single level of high emotion. This
Rowley could do, and it can scarcely be doubted that he was the
‘only begetter' of what he left to Middleton to develop. It is Rowley
who writes the dedication, and it is evident that he takes much of
1 Act 11, sc. 1.
2 Act v, so.


## p. 75 (#93) ##############################################

The World tost at Tennis. The Witch
75
L:
the credit of the play to himself. “You see, sir,' he says, 'I write
as I speak, and I speak as I am, and that's excuse enough for me. '
His share in the actual writing, indeed, is almost too evident ;
there is cold, pedantic, sour and crabbed prose, aping comedy,
and, in the scene between Jane and the physician, a hard, reason-
ing kind of serious verse which jars singularly on the rich and
copious verse of Middleton, in the finer parts of the play. Some
of the worst of the mechanical fooling in prose was added in a
second edition, and (the public being much the same in all ages) it
was probably added because the original sample had given much
satisfaction. Rowley worked for hire, and this is some of his
hired work.
It was not long after the time of A Faire Quarrell that
Middleton and Rowley collaborated together in the admirable and
entertaining masque, The World tost at Tennis. For the most
part, Middleton's masques are tame and tedious, without origi-
nality in the invention of lyrical quality in the songs. In one only,
The Inner-Temple Masque, is there any natural gaiety, any real
quaintness or humour; and, as we find Rowley's name among the
actors, in the humorous peasant part of Plumporridge, may it not
be conjectured that he had some share in the writing? His
heavy tread is as distinctly heard through all the opening part of
The World tost at Tennis, as Middleton's new voice is heard in
the later part. Middleton rarely wrote a lovelier succession of
cadences than in these lines spoken by Deceit to Simplicity :
The world, sweetheart, is full of cares and troubles,
No match for thee; thou art a tender thing,
A harmless, quiet thing, a gentle fool,
Fit for the fellowship of ewes and rams;
Go, take thine ease and pipe; give me the burden,
The clog, the torment, the heart-break, the world:
Here's for thee, lamb, a dainty oaten pipe.
And there is suavity, swiftness and a quaint fantastic colouring in
the verse chattered against hypocrites and puritans by the Five
Starches.
It was probably about the time when he was engaged on his
masques that Middleton wrote The Witch; and this may well have
been his first attempt at a purely romantic play. The versification
is done with astonishing ease, in long, loose, rapid lines ; and, in
the witches' songs, there is not only a ghastly fancy awake, but
something nearer to a fine lyric cadence than he ever caught before
a
or since. It is through the interpolation, as it obviously was, of
some of these lines in the very imperfect text of Macbeth, that a


## p. 76 (#94) ##############################################

76
Miadleton and Rowley
6
play in which the main action is almost a parody of the romantic
drama has come to be looked upon as one of Middleton's chief
works. The mere writing throughout is good; but the easy
eloquent dialogue covers no more than the gaps and deformations
of the main outline. The witches bring a new element into
Middleton's work, a wild fancy, of which he had shown hardly a
trace; in the rest of the play, he does but practise in the romantic
manner. They stand in dim middle air, between the old vile
pitiable crone of Dekker in The Witch of Edmonton, who is
dreadfully human, and the crowned empress of the nether clefts
of hell'in Macbeth, who bears no resemblance to the other
Hecate but in her name, and who is more dreadful because she is
not human. But Lamb has said finally all that need be said on
these fundamental differences.
After the experiment of The Witch, Middleton seems to have
returned to his collaboration with Rowley, and it is to this period
that we must assign the play by which both are now chiefly re-
membered, the tragedy called The Changeling. It is Rowley who
begins the play, and thus introduces and characterises both Beatrice
and De Flores. The germ of both is there, and the rest of the
play is but its growth. But, even in this opening, there are distinct,
though slight, traces of Middleton, as if collaboration had begun
already. Middleton takes up the thread in the second act, and has
both hands upon it in the third, though, at the end of the great
scene, Rowley seems to snatch the whole web out of his hands and
to twist it into an abrupt end. In all this part, mainly written by
Middleton, there is a restraint never paralleled elsewhere in his
work; nowhere else are words used with such fruitful frugality, or
80 much said in so little. And this bareness, this fierce reticence,
lead up, with a stealthy directness, to that outbreak of evil joy
when De Flores cries
O this act
Has put me into spirit!
and the modest murderess answers in astonishment
Why, tis impossible thou canst be so wicked,
Or shelter such a cunning cruelty
To make his death the murderer of my honour!
The whole scene is written in words of white heat ; Middleton has
distilled into it the essence of his own genius and of the genius of
Rowley; in Leigh Hunt's famous and revealing words concerning
De Flores, it is ‘at once tragical, probable, and poetical' beyond
almost any single scene in the Elizabethan drama-a scene unlike


## p. 77 (#95) ##############################################

The Spanish Gipsie
77
6
anything in Shakespeare, but comparable, not as poetry but as
drama, with Shakespeare. And it is on the level of this great
scene that the play ends, in a splendid horror, and it is Rowley
who ends as he began the dreadful lives of De Flores and of
Beatrice. Rowley's underplot and some of Middleton's inter-
mediate action do what they can to deform a play which, but for
them, would be a noble and complete masterpiece. Yet the single
impression left upon our minds is scarcely affected by them. The
play is De Flores, and De Flores seems to grow greater as he passes
from one to the other of the two playwrights, as they collaborate
visibly at his creation. This great creation is the final result
and justification of Middleton and Rowley's work in common; for
it is certain that De Flores as he is would never have been
possible either to Rowley or to Middleton alone.
The Spanish Gipsie is generally put down almost as a whole
to Middleton, and even Swinburne refuses to see the hand of
Rowley in the more high-toned passages. It seems possible
that Rowley wrote a larger part of the play than Middleton,
and not by any means only the gipsy scenes, with their jollity,
dancing and crabbed ballad singing. The opening, no doubt, was
actually written by Middleton; but it has a quality unusual in his
work, and not unusual in the work of Rowley. It is as if Rowley
stood behind Middleton, controlling him. Most of the prose, both
,
when it goes creeping and tedious with Sancho and Soto, and when
it overflows into doggerel and occasionally unsavoury snatches
of song, has Rowley's manner and substance; but he is to be
traced, also, in the slow and powerful verse which ends the third
act, in lines like
This is the triumph of a soul drowned deep
In the unfathomed seas of matchless sorrow,
and in the whole attitude and speech of a father who speaks with
the very accent of Julianus in Alls Lost by Lust :
Teach me how I may now be just and cruel,
For henceforth I am childless.
Rowley is heard, also, through much of the fourth act, though
Middleton comes in unmistakably towards the end, and is the
writer of the whole fifth act. The characters are distributed
between them, and so charming a person as Constanza is decidedly
at her best when she speaks through Middleton. The whole play
is not made very probable, or meant to be so; it is a frank
romance, with stage mysteries, some of them thrilling, like the


## p. 78 (#96) ##############################################

78
Middleton and Rowley
>
wonderful opening scene, some, mere tricks of convenience; and
there is a freshness and pleasantness about it which seem to show
us Middleton in full and final acceptance of the romantic manner.
Yet it is difficult to assign to any other period the comedy
of Any Thing for a Quiet Life, printed in 1662, and so badly
printed that it is not easy to distinguish prose from verse, the
more so as the one seems to be set to run in no very different
measures from the other. It seems to be a late and only return
to the earlier manner of the farcical comedies of city life, with
shopkeeping scenes of the old random brilliance and the old
domestic fooleries. Even more matter is crammed into it, and
this even more hastily, and there is the old fierce vigour of
talk. But, in two plays, published together in 1657, we see what
seems to be almost the last mood of Middleton, after his
collaboration with Rowley was at an end, and the influence,
perhaps, not wholly evaporated. More dissemblers besides
Women, which is characteristic of Middleton in its tangle of
virtues and hypocrisies, its masquerade of serious meanings and
humorous disguises, is written in verse of a lovely and eager
quality, which bends with equal flexibility to the doings of those
dear gipsies' and to the good cardinal's concerns of conscience 'in
a creature that's so doubtful as a woman. ' It is a particoloured
thing, and has both beauty and oddity. But, in Women beware
Women, we find much of Middleton's finest and ripest work, together
with his most rancid comic relief'; a stern and pitiless criticism
''
'
of life' is interrupted by foul and foolish clowning; and a tragedy
of the finest comic savour ends in a mere heap of corpses, where
vengeance met vengeance
Like a set match, as if the plagues of sin
Had been agreed to meet here all together.
'I've lost myself in this quite,' Middleton might say with the duke,
and rarely has better material been more callously left to spoil.
There is no finer comedy of its kind in the whole of Elizabethan
drama than the scene between Livia, Bianca and the widow; and
the kind is a rare, bitter and partly tragic one. The human
casuistry is flawless; the irony is an illumination rather than a
correction of reality. And these vile people are alive, and the
vices in them work with a bewildering and convincing certainty.
The technique of such scenes as that in which husband and wife
flaunt their new finery at each other is not less than astonishing.
All the meaner passions are seen in probable action, speaking
without emphasis, in a language never too far from daily speech
a


## p. 79 (#97) ##############################################

A Game at Chesse
A
79
6
for the complete illusion of reality. There is not even the inter-
ruption of a mere splendour; no one speaks greatly or utters
irrelevant poetry ; here, poetry is the very slave and confidant of
drama, heroically obedient. But the heights of The Changeling,
the nobility of even what was evil in the passions of that play, are
no longer attained. Middleton, left to himself, has returned, with
new experience and new capacity, to his own level.
With one more experiment, and this a masterpiece of a
wholly new kind, 'the only work of English poetry,' says
Swinburne, 'which may properly be called Aristophanic,' the
career of Middleton comes, so far as we know, to an end. A
Game at Chesse is a satire, taking the popular side against Spain,
and it was the Spanish ambassador Gondomar, the 'Machiavel-
politician' and Black Knight of its chess-board, who caused the
suppression of the play, and the punishment of all concerned in it.
It is the most perfect of Middleton's works, and it carries some of
his most intimate qualities to a point they had not reached before.
Banter turns into a quite serious and clear and bitter satire;
burlesque becomes a severe and elegant thing; the verse, begin-
ning formally and always kept well within bounds, is fitted with
supreme technical skill to this new, outlandish matter; there are
straight confessions of sins and symbolic feasts of vices, in which
a manner acquired by the city chronologer for numbering the
feasts and fastings of the city is adapted by him to finer use.
We learn now how
fat cathedral bodies
Have very often but lean little soul,
and the imagery, already expressive, takes on a new colour of
solemn mockery.
From this leviathan-scandal that lies rolling
Upon the crystal waters of devotion,
is sometimes the language of the Black Knight, and sometimes
In the most fortunate angle of the world
The court hath held the city by the horns
Whilst I have milked her.
Technique, in drama and verse alike, never flags ; and the play is
a satire and criticism, no longer of city manners or of personal
vices, but of the nation's policy; and that it was accepted as such,
by the public and by the government of the time, is proved by the
fifteen hundred pounds taken by the actors in nine days, and by
the arrest of Middleton for what was really a form of patriotism.


## p. 80 (#98) ##############################################

80
Middleton and Rowley
We have no record of anything written by Middleton during
the three remaining years of his life. A Game at Chesse is the
culmination of those qualities which seem to have been most
natural and instinctive in him, in spite of the splendid work of
another kind which he did with Rowley in The Changeling. His
genius was varied and copious, and he showed his capacity to do
almost every kind of dramatic work with immense vigour. Life is
never long absent from the tangled scenes, in which a hetero-
geneous crowd hurries by, not stopping long enough to make us
familiar with most of the persons in it, but giving us an unmis-
takable human savour. Few of the plays are quite satisfactory
all through ; there is almost always some considerable flaw, in
construction, in characterisation, or in aesthetic taste; yet hardly
one of them can be neglected in our consideration of the drama-
tist's work as a whole. In single scenes of tragedy and of comedy
(romantic comedy, the comedy of manners, farce, and satire) he can
hold his own against any contemporary, and it is only in lyric verse
that he is never successful. He became a remarkable dramatic
poet; but he was not born to sing. Poetry came to him slowly,
and he had to disentangle it from more active growths of comic
energy. It came to him when he began to realise that there was
something in the world besides cheating shopkeepers and cozening
lawyers, and the bargains made between men and women for bodies,
not souls. With the heightening of emotion his style heightens,
and as his comedy refines itself his verse becomes subtler. In
Middleton's work, the cry of De Flores
Ha! what art thou that tak'st away the light
Betwixt that star and me? I dread thee not:
'Twas but a mist of conscience;
is almost unique in imagination. And it is drama even more than
it is poetry. His style is the most plausible of all styles in poetry,
and it has a probable beauty, giving an easy grace of form to
whatever asks to be expressed. It rarely steps aside to pick up
a jewel, nor do jewels drop naturally out of its mouth.


## p. 81 (#99) ##############################################

CHAPTER IV
THOMAS HEYWOOD
It is in writers of the second rank and of these, with his
abundant merit and attractive idiosyncrasy, Thomas Heywood un-
mistakably was—that we find it easiest to study the progress and
expansion of the form of art practised by them. In the brief
but often interesting addresses prefixed by Heywood to his plays,
he was fond of referring to the changes in public taste which play-
wrights had been called upon to consult in the course of his own
long experience; but he seems to care little about indicating his
own preference for either old style or new, being manifestly as
ready to fall in with the latter as he had been to put forth his best
endeavours in the former. When commending to favour a drama
depending for its effect entirely on character, situations and dia-
logue, and introducing
No Drum, nor Trumpet, nor Dambe show,
No Combate, Marriage, not so much Today
As Song, Dance, Masque, to bumbaste out our Play-
he hastens to add :
Yet these all good, and still in frequent use
With our best Poets 1.
And, as with matter, so with form : recalling the time when rime
was in fashion in plays and 'strong lines were not lookt after," he
takes occasion to observe that what is out of date now may come into
fashion again and sute well'—and, for himself, he is clearly quite
ready to stop or rime his lines with his fellows. He has no wish
to criticise or to theorise, or to set himself up as a representative
of any special class or select sort of English drama. Had he not,
at the beginning of his twoscore or more years of labours for the
stage, dramatised both history and historical romance in plays to
6
6
.
1 Prologue to The English Traveller.
? Epilogue (to the Reader) to The Royall King, and The Loyal Subject.
EL VI
6
CH. IV.


## p. 82 (#100) #############################################

82
Thomas Heywood
a
which no bold prentice could listen without breaking into rapturous
applause and no citizen's wife without dropping a sympathetic
tear; and, as for ‘song, dance and masque,' had not Homer and
Ovid and Apuleius been alike laid under contribution by him for
providing entertainments from which neither learned nor lewd
would
go home unsatisfied ? Even dramatic species to which he felt
no personal attraction such as that comedy of humours flash'd in
wit' which satirised types of humanity neither heroic nor attrac-
tive—he declined to depreciate, merely urging those who cultivated
them not to eschew the treatment of other and loftier subjects:
the deeds of great Patriots, Dukes and Kings,' for the memorising
of which the English drama (some plays of his own with the rest)
had hitherto been notably distinguished".
But, while Heywood, cheerfully suiting himself and his art to
a variety of dramatic genres, attained to virtuosity rather than
to supreme excellence in the chronicle history and the romantic
drama, and did as well as many others in the comedy of manners
and the mythological play, he associated his name after a more
intimate fashion with a species which had a character, and a future,
of its own. This was the domestic drama, which, on the background
of ordinary family life, presents an action of deep and commanding
moral interest. Heywood was not the inventor of the domestic
drama, which is as thoroughly English in its genesis and in a great
part of its development as the national historical drama itself,
justly held in high honour by him. Nor was it given to him, or to
any of his contemporaries, to realise in the Elizabethan age the
possibilities of this species with a fulness comparable to that
reached by others—the comedy of manners, for instance. But he
achieved memorable and enduring results in a field in which few
of his fellow dramatists whose names are known to us made more
than tentative efforts, and to which the greatest of them abstained
from turning his attention except, as it were, in passing. The
simplicity of these works cannot be held to detract from the
honour due to the art which produced them, or to impair the
recognition implied in the fact that, in the history of European
literature, the name of Thomas Heywood is linked to those of great
writers, to some of whom it was probably unknown—Steele and
Richardson, Diderot and Lessing.
Thomas Heywood was born, somewhere about the year 1572, in
Lincolnshire, where his family must have been of good standing
1 See the interesting prologue to A Challenge for Beautie, where the superiority of
English historical plays to the dramatic efforts of other nations is roundly asserted.


## p. 83 (#101) #############################################

83
<
Life
and repute. We have it on his own authority that he was at one
time a resident member of the university of Cambridge, where he
saw 'tragedyes, comedyes, historyes, pastorals and shewes, publicly
acted,' and 'the graduates of good place and reputation specially
parted’ in these performances'. The time-honoured tradition,
which unfortunately it is impossible to corroborate with the aid of
either college or university records, that he was a fellow of
Peterhouse, rests on an explicit statement made by the bookseller
and actor William Cartwright not more than ten years after
Heywood's death? But it is practically certain that he never
held a fellowship at Peterhouse, and, among the few incidental
references to Cambridge scattered through his writings, there is
but one which introduces the name of the college to which he is
said to have belonged-and that, it must be confessed, in no very
helpful way.
By 1596, Heywood is mentioned in Henslowe's diary as writing,
or having written, a play ; but as to the time and circumstances of
his taking up the twofold vocation of actor and playwright we know
nothing. No link of any sort can have existed between him and
the 'university wits,' whose academical experiences and entrance
into London life belong to the preceding decade, and from whose
arrogance and affectations he was equally free. He became con-
nected in turn with several companies of players—probably be-
ginning with the Admiral's men at the Rose, and, in 1634, becoming
a servant of the king (Charles I). While a sound patriot, Heywood
seems to have had no love for courts*; though he celebrated the
glories of the great queen in one of his early plays as well as in a
history of the trials of her youth, indited the praises of Anne of
Denmark five years after he had attended her funeral and hailed
queen Henrietta Maria's hopes of motherhood in more than one loyal
prologue. On the other hand, his attachment to the city of London,
though not, so far as we know, due to any official or hereditary tie,
was very strong and enduring, and comprehended both the town
and its inhabitants. He celebrated the erection of the Royal
· Apology for Actors (Shakespeare Society edition), p. 28.
2 In the dedication prefixed to his edition of the Apology, published in 1658 under
the title The Actor's Vindication.
3 In The Wise-woman Of Hogsdon, act iv, Sencer, disguised as a pedant, caps the
assertion of Sir Boniface that he was student in Brazennose' by · Petrus dormit
securus: I was Sir of Peeterhouse. ' Fleay promptly concluded that Heywood acted Sencer.
* Compare with the general tone of The Royall King, and The Loyall Subject,
Wendoll's words on making his exit in A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse.
5 Fleay's suggestion that Heywood was one of the Master Stationers is hardly
offered as more than a happy thought.
642


## p. 84 (#102) #############################################

84
Thomas Heywood
>
Exchange? , whose interior is admirably described in a comedy
generally attributed to him, and of ‘Crosbie House3'; he wrote, as
we shall see, a series of mayoralty pageants for divers city companies,
and immortalised their coats of arms as blazoned on the shields
borne at the siege of Jerusalem*; he commemorated the labours of
the docks. He held up to honour the name of a princely merchant
like Sir Thomas Gresham®, and, for the flos juventutis, the prentices
of the city, he always kept a warm corner in his heart? In short,
he was a Londoner every inch of him; and, though few of our
Elizabethan dramatists have better pictured the freshness of rural
life, and the jollity of its sports and pastimes, he recognised the
perennial superiority of the vicinity of St Paul's, and was capable
of contrasting, in a daring paradox,
the toil and travell of the country
And quiet gaine of cities blessednesse 8.
It may be added that the moral code of the citizens of London
was not one with which Heywood can have been naturally inclined
to quarrel; though, of course, in his latter days, he was obliged by
his 'quality’to retort upon 'that most horrible Histriomastix and
the bitter juice of that Coloquintida and Hemlocke, which can
neither relish the peace of the Church nor Common-weale '. '
There is little to be found in his plays against puritans or puri-
tanism 10, and even in his Apology he abstains from those Satirica
Dictaeria and Comica Scommata, which he declares to be contrary
to his practice"
Heywood's industry as a playwright was, beyond all doubt,
extraordinary, though far from unparalleled.
His often quoted
statement, made in 1633", that he had 'either an entire hand, or
at the least a main finger' in two hundred and twenty plays,
Fleay, rather perversely, has sought to interpret in the sense which
6
1 Part II of If you know not me, etc. 2 The Fayre Mayde of the Exchange.
3 Part I of Edward IV.
* The Foure Prentises.
• His pamphlet on the royal ship The Sovereign of the Seas contains an account of
ship-building from Noah's Ark downwards.
6 Part II of If you know not me, etc.
? The Foure Prentises and Part I of Edward IV; in Loves Maistresse, Vulcan has
cyclops and prentices' in his smithy.
8 Part II of If you know not me, etc.
9 To the Reader,' prefixed to A Mayden-Head well lost.
10 In Part II of If you know not me, etc. , the dishonest factor Timothy Thinbeard is
said by his principal to have been so pure of life that I would have trusted him with
all I had. ' In A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse, Mrs Frankford's seducer comments on
her remorseful reflections: ‘Fiel fie! you talk too much like a puritan. '
11 To the Reader,' prefixed to The Iron Age.
12 . To the Reader,' prefixed to The English Traveller.


## p. 85 (#103) #############################################

His Point of View as a Playwright 85
the words assuredly will not bear, that this total included all the
plays in which Heywood had acted during the thirty years (or
thereabouts) in question-inasmuch as in most of these plays he
had, no doubt, inserted 'gag,' while many of them had been altered
by him. This, in Fleay's opinion, would warrant the conclusion
that only about two score plays were actually written by Heywood,
who is not known to have been a frequent collaborator with other
playwrights. In 1633, however, Heywood's connection with the
theatre had extended over at least thirty-seven years, and an
average of half-a-dozen plays per annum, in which he was con-
cerned as sole or joint author, or as reviser, is not inconceivable,
if, together with the general character of his dramatic writings,
which will be considered immediately, the spirit in which he com-
posed them and the little care which he took of them, after
their appearance on the stage, be taken into account.
Nothing is more certain than that he gave little or no thought
to the destiny of his plays as 'literature. ' He wrote them, inprimis,
no doubt, for a living, and, also, in obedience to that impulse
towards dramatic production which was never more prevalent than
in the period of his connection with the stage, but which is not
necessarily the same thing as poetic inspiration. Manifestly, he
loved the theatre, which was to him a world in itself', as it is to
many actors and to not a few playwrights whose sense of their
importance in the world outside is too great to allow them to
confess it. But this did not make him anxious to find new ways
and methods for compassing old ends. Like his fellow dramatists,
he was constantly on the look-out for interesting dramatic
subjects, and he took them where he found them, setting to work,
we may rest assured, without loss of time and accomplishing his
task "all of a piece. ' To have finished his play and brought it on
the stage, was enough for him : he was careless about printing,
and, on at least one occasion, had to submit as well as he could to
the appearance of a corrupt copy, taken down by some enterprising
expert in stenography and put in print (scarce one word trew)? . '
Such plays of his as he allowed to be published he sent forth 'with
great modesty and small noise,' and, above all ‘singly,' not 'ex-
posed to the publike view of the world in numerous sheets, and
a large volume'-like Ben Jonson's 'works, or Shakespeare's”.
He that denyes then theaters should be,
He may as well deny a world to me.
• The Author to his Booke' (An Apology for Actors).
? See prologue to If you know not me, etc.
See the address •To the Reader' prefixed to The Fair Maid Of The West (printed
1631).
2
6
6


## p. 86 (#104) #############################################

86
Thomas Heywood
6
But, whether or not his rapidity of production was such as to
expose him, as Fleay conjectures, to contemporary dramatic satire
in the character of Posthaste'-whether or not we are to believe
Kirkman's ingenious statement that he was in the habit of writing
his plays on the back of tavern-bills (which, no doubt, would
satisfactorily account for the loss of many of them)whether or not,
according to the same authority, he, for several years together,
imposed on himself the rule of writing a minimum of a sheet
a day—his rate of productivity cannot be said to be left unexplained.
His pen was facile, because his mind was both fresh and ready, and
because, to use a vigorous German colloquialism, he ‘sang as his
beak had grown. ' Heywood's naïveté is, perhaps, the most delight-
ful element in his genius, although the directness of expression to
which it leads him frequently sins against refinement.
After Heywood had been an actor and a playwright for twelve
years or more
possibly at an earlier date-he bethought himself
of turning his proved ability as a writer, and the studies which he
cannot have allowed to lie fallow since his Cambridge days, to what
the age would deem a more strictly literary account. Beginning
with a translation of Sallust (1608), he produced a long series of
compositions, of which as complete as possible a list will be furnished
elsewhere, but which in no instance, with the exception of the
Apology for Actors, and, perhaps, the historical narrative entitled
England's Elizabeth(to be noticed below in connection with the play
which he based upon it), have any special interest for a generation
not so much addicted to useless learning as was the author's own.
We therefore leave aside his two long poetical productions, Troicus
Britannicus, or Great Britain's Troy, which tells its tale ab ovo
down to the pedigree of king James I, and the didactic Hierarchy
of the Blessed Angels, equal at all events to the ornate promise of
its title-page. On a similar encyclopaedic pattern he composed
Nine Books of Women, reprinted after his death under the still
more ambitious title The General History of Women. Posterity
would probably consent to burn these compilations, if from their
ashes could be produced the Lives of all the Poets, with which
the author had made some progress and which began with the
first before Homer'—and may have ended with Shakespeares.
The Lives and Acts of Nine of the most Worthy Women (three
Jews, three Gentiles and three Christians) savours, it must be
1 In Marston's Histrio-Mastix.
? See bibliography.
3 In The Fayre Mayde of the Exchange, generally attributed to Heywood, Bowdler,
'& humerous gallant,' says: “I never read anything but Venus and Adonis. ' Why,'
replies the Cripple, 'that's the very quintessence of love. '
6


## p. 87 (#105) #############################################

87
The Apology for Actors
confessed, more entirely of the bookmaker. In addition, Heywood
was an indefatigable translator and paraphraser, and one of his
lengthiest publications, Pleasant Dialogues and Drammas (of
which the date of publication is 1637), consists, mainly, of versions
of Erasmus, Textor and Lucian in heroic verse, and of Ovid in
blank, together with a long (and disagreeable) dialogue reproduced
a
from the Maechden-Pflicht of Vader Cats (1618). To these pieces
are added a series of prologues and epilogues, with as many
epitaphs, elegies, epigrams, acrostics and anagrams thrown in as
a last search of the author's cupboards can have produced. This
piece of bookmaking has scant interest for the literary student
except in so far as it helps to illustrate the extraordinary influence
of the Colloquies of Erasmus, which continued for more than
a century after their original appearance, and which, as has bee
pointed out by the editor of the Pleasant Dialogues, is distinctly
noticeable in the English drama of the Elizabethan and Jacobean
ages.
It cannot be said that the Apology for Actors (published in
1612) holds a very important place in the controversy between
the stage and its adversaries, which is narrated in a later chapter
of this volume, where Heywood's contribution to the contention is
discussed with the rest? Biographically, it interests us as giving
proof not only of his learning, which is solid and firsthand, as well
as varied and ready for use, but also of a natural moderation and
courtesy which led him to abstain from all personalities. And,
while we find him anxious for the good report of the profession
to which he belonged, and which such men as himself and Alleyn-
not to mention greater names-adorned, he at the same time
shows a modesty harmonising with all that we know of him as
a writer. In the double capacity of actor and playwright-for it
is noticeable that he seems to have no wish to distinguish between
the two functions—he describes himself as 'the youngest and
weakest of the nest wherein he was hatcht,' and liable to the
charge of presumptuousness for venturing to 'soare this pitch
before others of the same brood, more fledge, and of better wing'
than himself? . To his own plays he makes no reference or allusion
1 See the introduction to W. Bang's edition, where Fleay's assumption that any
of the pieces contained in the book had previously formed part of the Five Plays in
One performed in 1597, is rightly rejected as hazardous.
See post, chap. XIV.
3 Heywood's admiration of his chief fellow dramatists, and the kindly way in which
these men spoke of one another, are illustrated by the well known lines in the Hierarchy
of the Blessed Angels, cited in Collier's introduction to his edition of the Apology for
Actors.


## p. 88 (#106) #############################################

88
Thomas Heywood
in the course of his tract, except in the passage where he insists
on the moral purpose of the drama :
The unchaste are by us shewed in their errors in the persons of Phryne,
Lais, Thais, Flora; and amongst us Rosamond and Mistresse Shore.
The most rigid of censors could not set up a more respectable'
standard of morality and regard for authority than that desired by
the author of the Apology; though there is obviously a polemic
meaning in his protest against the practice of putting bitternesse'
and 'liberall invective' into the mouths of children-say of the
chapel-supposing their juniority to be a priviledge for any
railing. '
It has been concluded—though it cannot be proved—that from
1634—5 onwards Heywood ceased to write for the stage. His
Pleasant Dialogues and Drammas, a miscellaneous collection
of essays such as many a modern author has indulged himself by
publishing towards the close of his career, was completed by 1637;
and the last of the seven pageants which he produced, from 1631
onwards, was for the year 1639. These compositions attest his
cordial appreciations of the glories of the city under the auspices
of haberdashers, ironmongers and drapers — the dignity of
Merchants,' he exclaims with conviction, 'who can tell '? He
seems to have still been living in 1641, when a Life of Ambrosius
Merlin, compiled by him, appears to have been printed; indeed,
he is spoken of, as if alive, so late as 1648, in The Satire against
Satirists?
-
6
It seems to agree best with Heywood's method of production
to name his numerous dramatic works in their chronological
sequence, so far as this can be ascertained or, with more or less
probability, surmised, without, however, adhering to it with ab-
solute rigidity. A classification of his plays could be attempted
without much difficulty, if it were worth while ; but he, at least,
would certainly not have thought it so.
Priority of mention may, accordingly, be given to The Foure
Prentises of London. With the Conquest of Jerusalem, though,
possibly, it was preceded on the stage by one or both parts of
Edward IV. In the earliest extant edition, which is dated 1615,
the preface states the play to have been in the fashion 'some
1 See Porta Pietatis.
? Introduction to Apology, p. vi. The passage is quoted in Pearson's reprint,
vol. 1, p. XXV:
So may you come to sleep in fur at last
.
And Heywood sing your acts in lofty verse.


## p. 89 (#107) #############################################

The Foure Prentises of London
89
FLE
2
D.
6
fifteene or sixteene yeares agoe'; but Fleay has shown that there
must have been an earlier edition in, or not long after, 1610, and
that Heywood's play, probably, was the Godfrey of Bulloigne
performed by the Admiral's men as early as July 1594? And,
though Heywood certainly did not take the story of his play
direct from Tasso, it must be considered a curious coincidence
that, in 1594, Richard Carew's translation of five cantos of
Gerusalemme appeared in print? Whatever its immediate source,
this play, which combines the crude compiling method of the
early chronicle history with the violently symmetrical improba-
bilities of the popular romance, is primitive to the last degree.
The four heroes of the piece, whom their sire, the 'olde Earl
of Bulloign' had, under stress of misfortune, apprenticed in
London city, after taking service for the holy wars pass through
divers strange adventures in divers lands till they meet at last
before the ‘high wals of Hierusalem. ' Their sister, whose spirit
equals theirs, follows her star to the same spot, disguised as a
page; and a French lady, in love with one of the brothers, ac-
companies him in similar gear. After the victory has been won
(to the cries of 'A Syon! A Jerusalem ! '), each of the brothers
obtains a crown-Godfrey preferring one of thorns—and the story
ends in an accumulation of happiness. Presenter and dumb-show
have helped on the epic movement of the action, hardly any
attempt being made by the author to soar into poetry, though he
abounds in classical allusions. But the simplicity of Godfrey's
enthusiasm on beholding the
sacred path our Saviour trod
When he came riding to Hierusalem
is impressive; and the whole play must have told irresistibly upon
'the Honest and High-spirited Prentises' to whom it was after-
wards dedicated, and to whom Godfrey's accurate description of his
own and his brother's military functions, which has a strong smack
of the Artillery Garden, must have specially appealed.
In the amusing farce, The Knight of the Burning Pestles, in
which Beaumont and Fletcher ridiculed those very civic tastes
which Heywood's play had sought to gratify, fun is incidentally
made of The Foure Prentises, as well as of the plays which will
be noted next, and of a drama entitled The Bold Beachams
Cf. Fleay, English Drama, vol. 1, p. 282. The difficulties in the way cannot,
however, be ignored; see Greg, W. W. , Henslowe's Diary, vol. II, pp. 166, 284. The
indication noted by Collier that this was the play in which, in 1602, Wentworth Smith
collaborated with Heywood is not convincing.
2 Warton, vol. iv, p. 350.
3 Cf. post, chap. v.
th
het


## p. 90 (#108) #############################################

90
Thomas Heywood
(Beauchamps), which, without good authority, has been attributed
to Heywood
In the two plays, each of them in two parts, which next come
under consideration, Heywood worked on the model of the old
chronicle history pure and simple. Though doubt has been thrown
on Heywood's authorship of the earlier of these plays, King
Edward IV, on the ground of its superiority to the rest of the
dramatist's earlier work, it may confidently be accepted as his,
in view of the general unevenness in the relative merits of his
plays, and of the fact that, in its sentimental as well as its
humorous scenes, the piece is in a vein thoroughly his own.
Edward IV, which, after the full titlehad been entered in the
Stationers' register in 1599, was printed in the following year,
makes no attempt at dramatic unity-for it can hardly be said to
derive this from the personality of the city's favourite king,
Edward of the 'gadding eye. ' As has been pointed out by Schelling*,
the two parts of the play contain ‘not less than five stories in-
differently connected together by personages that fill roles in two
or more '—viz. the story of the bastard Falconbridge's siege of
London, in which were possibly incorporated reminiscences of
The Siege of London, a play revived by the Admiral's men in
December 1594, and in which the gallant flat-caps are not for-
gotten, while we meet with an original humorous figure in the
person of the well-meaning but unintelligible Maister Josselin ;
the diverting episode of Hobs the tanner of Tamworth, a figure
borrowed from an old ballad, who accurately represents the in-
difference of the populace towards the question at issue in the
wars of the Roses; the futile expedition of king Edward to
France (in which Louis XI makes his first appearance on the
English stage); the murder of the little princes in the Tower, a
tragic tale told with homely pathos; and, lastly, the story of Jane
Shore, which alone stretches from the first into the second part
of the play. The long-lived popularity of this story, which, also,
was taken from an old ballad, and which found its way again
and again into English dramatic and epic literature, needs no
1 See Fleay, u. 8. , vol. 1, p. 287.
? By Fleay, who, I think, is successfully controverted by Greg, Henslowe's Diary,
vol. II, p. 173.
3 See bibliography.
- vol. I, pp. 282–3.
5 As to Churchyard's Shore's Wife in A Mirror for Magistrates, cf. vol. I,
pp. 182 and 198. It is open to question whether Chettle and Day's play of Shore
(“wherein Shore's wife is written'), acted in 1602, was an independent piece of work;
in Rowe's Jane Shore (1714), which, at a recent date, was still to be seen on the
stage, no trace of a connection with Heywood's play is apparent.


## p. 91 (#109) #############################################

If
you
know not me
91
explanation. Heywood's treatment of the figure of the erring
wife, whose goodness of heart is attested by her openness to
melting charity, and by her sorrow for her sin, as well as that of
the high-minded and forgiving husband, is full of fine feeling ;
and it is to be regretted that, near its close, the episode should
be marred by the unnecessary fool's play of Jockie and Jeffrey,
with which the dramatist thought it his duty to gratify his
patrons. The minor character of Mistress Blague, Jane Shore's
sunshine friend, is admirably drawn. As for the death of husband
and wife, it is sentimental drama of the purest water, but none
the less in its place for that.
As it stands, Heywood's other chronicle play, If you know not
me, You know no bodiel: Or, The troubles of Queene Elizabeth,
surreptitiously printed from a stenographic eopy in 1605, and
revived in 1631, near the time of the publication of the author's
England : Elizabeth, is, so far as Part I is concerned, little
better than a jumble of misprinted fragments. It is clear, at
the same time, that this portion of the work must, at best, have
been a crude ad captandum treatment of Elizabeth's experiences
before her accession, following its text-book, Heywood's own mono-
graph Englands Elizabeth, in depicting the martyr-like rectitude
of the Protestant princess, who suffered tanquam ovis in adversity,
and who, after her fortune had turned, received from the hands of
the lord mayor her prize and palladium-an English Bible. What
availed the doubledyed animosity of the ruthless Gardiner against
a fortitude so innocent that even king Philip was loth to be
unkind? Repeated dumb-shows and some very unsophisticated
clownery helps on the action. Part II, which is much better
preserved, was not better worth preserving. After a long and
tedious treatment of the magnificence of Sir Thomas Gresham,
and the reckless prodigality of his nephew Jack, we have, as a
sudden episode, the attempt against the queen's life by William
Parry (which was plotted in 1583—4)*; whereupon, a chorus, pro-
fessing to bridge the interval between 1558 and 1588, brings us to
1 The phrase, which the instincts of the publisher may be supposed to have suggested
as a title, seems to have been used proverbially; in Part I of Edward IV, Hobs the
tanner applies it to himself.
Queen Elizabeth also figures as the last of the three Women Worthies among
the Christians' in Heywood's Nine Most Worthy Women of the World. Englands
Elizabeth was not published till 1609, a date that may account for the freedom with
which certain actions of Henry VIII are narrated, though not, perhaps, for the
contrast drawn (s. a. 1547) between the sweet lady' Elizabeth's determination to
remain unmarried, and what may be said of women in general. '
* This episode is also treated by Dekker in The Whore of Babylon.
9
.
6


## p. 92 (#110) #############################################

92
Thomas Heywood
the year of the Armada But nothing follows except a rather
bald account of this climax of Elizabethan glories, finishing with a
succession of 'posts,' recalling with a difference, the äryyelor of the
Persae. No doubt the whole of this production was brought out
hurriedly soon after the death of the great queen, having to serve
its purpose tant bien que mal; and, though it is not without
details of interest and contains at least one passage of real poetic
feeling? , it bears the fatal mark of haste.
A third dramatic composition of the same class which has been
ascribed to Heywood is the play entitled No-Body, and Some-
Body. With the true Chronicle Historie of Elydure, which was
entered in the Stationers' register in 1606, and must have been
performed before 1604. But, though Heywood's authorship seemed
unquestionable to Fleay, stronger evidence than that which satisfied
him seems requisite before we burden the dramatist's reputation
with this ascription. The main plot, taken from Geoffrey of Mon-
mouth, of king Elidure's threefold accession to the British throne,
is of the antique cast of The True Chronicle History of King Leir;
the by-plot which gives its name to the play is an elaborate
development of the grim old jest of Ouris, which savours of the
personifications familiar to the moralities and, like them, has a
satirico-didactic aim .
To the same early period in his career in which Heywood pro-
duced examples of a species soon to become all but obsolete belongs
a series of plays from his hand which in subject seem to associate
themselves with the tastes of more learned audiences than those
for which he had thus early shown himself ready to cater. But,
in the preface to The Iron Age—the last of The Four Ages in
which he dramatised a long series of classical myths from Saturn
and Jupiter down to Ulysses, who, alone among the Greek kings
banded against Troy, survives to speak the epilogue—he expressly
tells us that these plays were
often (and not with the least applause) Publickely Acted by two Companies
appon one Stage at once, and have at sundry times thronged three severall
Theaters, with numerous and mighty Auditories.
There is every reason for believing that Parts I and II of Hercules,
* See Tawny-coat's apostrophe to the earth, out of which his spade is to procure
his sustenance, beginning
Hard world, when men dig living out of stones. (Para II. )
? Viz. the spelling ey for ay or I, which he had observed to be peculiar to Hey.
wood. It may be added that the references to games of cards (11. 1528 7. ) recall a
scene in A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse, and that the author of No-Body, and some-Kody
was evidently familiar with London.
3 See the bibliography as to this play.


## p. 93 (#111) #############################################

The Four Ages
93
performed by the Admiral's men as new plays from May 1595, are,
respectively, The Silver Age and The Brazen Age of Heywood's
series? ; but Fleay's daring identification of Selio and Olimpio
(Caelo et Olympo? ), performed by the same company in 1594,
with The Golden Age, and his conjecture that Troye, performed
by them in 1596, is Part 1, or an earlier and shorter edition of
both parts, of The Iron Age, must remain questionable. In any
case, these plays are more invertebrate than the most loosely
constructed of chronicle histories; and not only is the number of
characters very great, but it might seem as if, to any audience far
away from Cam or Isis, even the indefatigable exertions of old
Homer' as presenter and chorus, aided by occasional dumb-shows,
would have proved inadequate. There is, no doubt, a good deal of
life and stir in the action—the amorous scenes, indeed, are often
very highly coloured-quite apart from the stimulus of occasional
unexpected parallels and a large amount of clowning. But
it is incontestable that these plays offer a significant measure of
the imaginative powers on which an Elizabethan dramatist could
reckon in his audience. Homer might safely venture, in Hey-
wood's phrase, to unlock the casket of which the learned kept the
key; and there is something contagious in the opening boast of
the poet-magician, that he had 'raised out of the earth'the gods
who served the playwright as his puppets.
Proceeding in chronological sequence, we now arrive, among
Heywood's extant undoubted plays, at a group in which the
earliest in date is his acknowledged masterpiece, A Woman Kilde
with Kindnesse. It should, however, be noted that, on the strength
of the occurrence of some Latin ribaldry, both in The Wise-woman
Of Hogsdon, which is probably Heywood's, and in the popular
How a man may chuse a good Wife from a bad (published anony-
mously in 1602), Fleay confidently asserts that the two plays must
be by the same author. Some further indications of Heywood's
authorship of the second of the pair might be sought in its general
tendency and tone, and in at least one touch of true human kind-
ness in his best manner", as well as in the humour of Pipkin, which
See Greg's Henslowe, vol. 11, p. 175, and of. ibid. pp. 180 and 284.
2 Not only do Tytan and Saturn, in The Golden Age, irresistibly recall Esau and
Jacob; but, in The Silver age, the audience is apprised that the prolongation of
night, which favours Jupiter on his visit to Alcmena, also serves Joshua in his battle
against the Canaanites. In The Golden Age, the clown informs Jupiter (when in
search of a father) that the parish' ought not to be troubled with him.
* The courtesan's sense of shame in taking the wronged wife's place at table
(act 10, sc. 3). This play, which could not have been written without a knowledge of
the tomb scene in Romeo and Juliet, is printed in vol. ix of Hazlitt's Dodsley.


## p. 94 (#112) #############################################

94
Thomas Heywood
is very like that of Heywood's clowns and especially like Roger's in
The English Traveller; but such resemblances, and perhaps one
or two others which might be pointed out, are not evidence, and
there is more tirade in this piece than is usual with Heywood ;
for the rest, it is deftly constructed and contains a good deal of
humour,
In any case, when, in 1603 or earlier, Heywood produced A
Woman Kilde with Kindnesse, which was first printed in 1607, he
was not moving on untrodden ground! The germs of the species
which we call domestic drama, and to whose growth in English
dramatic literature incidental reference has already been made in
this volume and in its predecessor, are discernible in the realistic
scenes introduced into the mysteries as novelties by way of
relief, and in those interludes in which, as in the case of Inge-
lend's Disobedient Child, a serious treatment of a realistic situa-
tion or plot was essayed. In due course, however, the choice of
actions localised in English everyday life fell more or less into
disuse, as the regular drama developed itself, and as themes
derived from national history, on the one hand, or from classical
and Italian sources, on the other, found favour with an age
filled with high aspirations and eager for the glittering con-
tents of the newly opened treasurehouse. But a reaction was
not long in coming; as Heywood repeatedly hints, new subjects
were a necessity for the stage; and, soon after the beginning of
the last decade of the sixteenth century, and for several years in
the seventeenth, there was a constant flow of plays dealing with
actions taken from ordinary life, and coming home to men's
business and bosoms with a directness alien both to tragoedia
cothurnata and to half allegorical, half satirical comedy.
Nor was it a mere change of preference which accounts for
the impetus given to the dramatisation of experiences, sorrows and
consolations familiar to the country squires and town merchants
and their wives and children in contemporary England. In a
period of the national history when the middle classes were begin-
ning to assert themselves in the social system of the country,
a movement which it would be a mistake to regard as altogether
identical with the striving of puritanism for ascendancy-it could
1 On the subject of the domestic drama, compare the excellent chapter on the
subject, passim, in Schelling, vol. I, and Creizenach, vol.