« НазадПродовжити »
about the commencement of Shakspeare's career, and ness of some of the language put into the mouths of several private or select establishments. Curiosity | females in the old plays, while it serves to point out is naturally excited to learn something of the struc- still more clearly the depth of that innate sense of ture and appearance of the buildings in which his beauty and excellence which prompted the exquisite immortal dramas first saw the light, and where he pictures of loveliness and perfection in Shakspeare's unwillingly made himself a 'motley to the view,' in female characters. At the end of each performance, his character of actor. The theatres were constructed the clown, or buffoon actor of the company, recited
or sung a rhyming medley called a jig, in which he often contrived to introduce satirical allusions to public men or events; and before dismissing the audience, the actors knelt in front of the stage, and offered up a prayer for the queen! Reviewing these rude arrangements of the old theatres, Mr Dyce happily remarks — What a contrast between the almost total want of scenery in those days, and the splendid representations of external nature in our modern playhouses! Yet perhaps the decline of the drama may in a great measure be attributed to this improvement. The attention of an audience is now directed rather to the efforts of the painter than to those of the actor, who is lost amid the marvellous effects of light and shade on our gigantic stages.**
The only information we possess as to the payment of dramatic authors at this time, is contained in the memoranda of Philip Henslowe, a theatrical manager, preserved in Dulwich college, and quoted by Malone and Collier. Before the year 1600, the price paid by Henslowe for a new play never exceeded £8; but after this date, perhaps in consequence of the exertions of rival companies, larger sums were given, and prices of £20 and £25 are
mentioned. The proceeds of the second day's perGlobe Theatre
formance were afterwards added to the author's
emoluments. Furnishing prologues for new plays, of wood. of a circular form, open to the weather, the prices of which varied from five to twenty shilexcepting over the stage, which was covered with a li
h a lings, was another source of gain ; but the proverbial thatched roof. Outside, on the roof, a flag was
poverty of poets seems to have been exemplified in hoisted during the time of performance, which com
n. com- the old dramatists, even when they were actors as menced at three o'clock, at the third sounding or
well as authors. The shareholders of the theatre flourish of trumpets. The cavaliers and fair dames
derived considerable profits from the performances, of the court of Elizabeth sat in boxes below the
and were occasionally paid for exhibitions in the houses gallery, or were accommodated with stools on the
of the nobility. In 1602, a sum of ten pounds was stage, where some of the young gallants also threw
given to 'Burbidge's players' for performing Othello themselves at length on the rush-strewn floor, while
before Queen Elizabeth, at Harefield, the seat of Sir their pages handed them pipes and tobacco, then a Thomas Toerton. Near
Thomas Egerton. Nearly all the dramatic authors fashionable and highly-prized luxury. The middle
preceding and contemporary with Shakspeare were classes were crowded in the pit, or yard, which was
men who had received a learned education at the not furnished with seats. Moveable scenery was
university of Oxford or Cambridge. A profusion first introduced by Davenant, after the Restoration," of classical imagery abounds in their plays, but they but rude imitations of towers, woods, animals, or did not com
did not copy the severe and correct taste of the furniture, served to illustrate the scene. To point
ancient models. They wrote to supply the popular out the place of action, a board containing the name,
demand for novelty and excitement-for broad farce painted or written in large letters, was hung out
or superlative tragedy-to introduce the coarse during the performance. Anciently, an allegorical
raillery or comic incidents of low life-to dramatise exhibition, called the Dumb Show, was exhibited
a murder, or embody the vulgar idea of oriental before every act, and gave an outline of the action
bloodshed and splendid extravagance. “If we seek or circumstances to follow. Shakspeare has pre
for a poetical image,' says a writer on our drama, served this peculiarity in the play acted before the
‘a burst of passion, a beautiful sentiment, a trait of king and queen in Hamlet; but he never employs it
nature, we seek not in vain in the works of our very in his own dramas. Such machinery, indeed, would
oldest dramatists. But none of the predecessors of be incompatible with the increased action and busi
Shakspeare must be thought of along with him, ness of the stage, when the miracle plays had given
when he appears before us like Prometheus, moulding place to the pomp and circumstance of historical
the figures of men, and breathing into them the dramas, and the bustling liveliness of comedy. Thel animation and all the passions of life.'t Among the chorus was longer retained, and appears in Marlow's i
immediate predecessors of the great poet are some Faustus, and in Henry VI. Actresses were not seen
worthy of separate notice. A host of playwrights on the stage till after the Restoration, and the
the abounded, and nearly all of them have touches of female parts were played by boys, or delicate-looking that happy poetic diction, free, yet choice and select. young men. This may perhaps palliate the gross- which
which gives a permanent value and interest to these
elder masters of English poetry. * The air-blest castle, round whose wholesome crest
The martlet, guest of summer, chose her nest-
* Memoir of Shakspeare-Aldine Poets. Where Jaques fed his solitary vein ;
+ Blackwood's Magazine, vol. ii., from Essays on the Old No pencil's aid as yet had dar'd supply,
Drama, said to have been contributed by Henry Mackenzie, Seen only by th' intellectual eye.'-C. LAME. | author of the Man of Feeling.'
Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear !
None but the lark so shrill and clear, John Lyly, born in Kent in 1554, produced nine Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, plays between the years 1579 and 1600. They
The morn not waking till she sings. were mostly written for court entertainments, and
Hark, hark ! but what a pretty note, performed by the scholars of St Paul's. He was edu
Poor Robin red-breast tunes his throat; cated at Oxford, and many of his plays are on my
Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing thological subjects, as Sappho and Phaon, Endimion, * Cuckoo !' to welcome in the spring. the Maid's Metamorphosis, &c. His style is affected and unnatural, yet, like his own Niobe, in the Me
GEORGE PEELE. tamorphosis, oftentimes he had sweet thoughts, sometimes hard conceits; betwixt both a kind of GEORGE PEELE held the situation of city poet and yielding. By his Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit, conductor of pageants for the court. He was also Lyly exercised a powerful though injurious influ- an actor and a shareholder with Shakspeare and ence on the fashionable literature of his day, in prose others, in 1589, in the Blackfriars theatre. In 1584, composition as well as in discourse. His plays were his Arraignment of Paris, a court show, was reprenot important enough to found a school. Hazlitt sented before Elizabeth. The author was then a was a warm admirer of Lyly's Endymion, but evi- | young man, who had recently left Christ-church, dently from the feelings and sentiments it awakened, Oxford. In 1593, Peele gave an example of an Eng. rather than the poetry. “I know few things more lish historical play in his Edward I. The style of perfect in characteristic painting,' he remarks, this piece is turgid and monotonous; yet, in the fol'than the exclamation of the Phrygian shepherds, lowing allusion to England, we see something of the who, afraid of betraying the secret of Midas's ears, high-sounding kingly speeches in Shakspeare's hisfancy that “the very reeds bow down, as though torical plays :they listened to their talk ;” nor more affecting in sentiment, than the apostrophe addressed by his Illustrious England, ancient seat of kings, friend Eumenides to Endymion, on waking from his Whose chivalry hath royalis'd thy fame, long sleep, “ Behold the twig to which thou laidest That, sounding bravely through terrestrial vale, down thy head is now become a tree.”! There are Proclaiming conquests, spoils, and victories, finer things in the Metamorphosis, as where the
Rings glorious echoes through the farthest world ! prince laments Eurymene lost in the woods,
What warlike nation, train'd in feats of arms,
What barbarous people, stubborn, or untam’d, Adorned with the presence of my love,
What climate under the meridian signs, The woods I fear such secret power shall prore,
Or frozen zone under his brumal stage, As they'll shut up each path, hide every way,
Erst have not quak'd and trembled at the name Because they still would have her go astray,
Of Britain and her mighty conquerors ? And in that place would always have her seen,
| Her neighbour realms, as Scotland, Denmark, France, Only because they would be ever green,
| Awed with their deeds, and jealous of her arms, And keep the winged choristers still there,
Have begg'd defensive and offensive leagues. To banish winter clean out of the year.
Thus Europe, rich and mighty in her kings,
Hath fear'd brave England. dreadful in her kinga Or the song of the fairies
And now, to eternise Albion's champions,
Equivalent with Trojan's ancient fame,
Comes lovely Edward from Jerusalem,
Veering before the wind, ploughing the sea;
His stretched sails fill'd with the breath of men,
That through the world admire his manliness.
And lo, at last arrived in Dover road,
Longshank, your king, your glory, and our son, The genius of Lyly was essentially lyrical. The With troops of conquering lords and warlike knights, songs in his plays seem to flow freely from nature. Like bloody-crested Mars, o'erlooks his host, The following exquisite little pieces are in his drana Higher than all his army by the head, of Alexander and Campaspe, written about 1583: Marching along as bright as Phæbus' eyes !
And we, his mother, shall behold our son,
And England's peers shall see their sovereign.
Peele was also author of the Old Wires' Tale, a legen-
dary story, part in prose, and part in blank verse, He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
which afforded Milton a rude outline of his fable of His mother's doves and team of sparrows; Comus. The Old Wives' Tale was printed in 1595, Loses them too, and down he throws
as acted by the Queen's Majesty's Players.' The The coral of his lip-the rose
greatest work of Peele is his Scripture drama, the Growing on's cheek, but none knows how ;
Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe, with the With these the crystal on his brow,
tragedy of Absalom, which Mr Campbell terms the And then the dimple of his chin;
earliest fountain of pathos and harmony that can be All these did my Campaspe win:
traced in our dramatic poetry. The date of represenAt last he set her both his eyes ;
tation of this drama is not known; it was not printed She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
till 1599, after Shakspeare had written some of his Oh Love, hath she done this to thee?
finest comedies, and opened up a fountain compared What shall, alas, become of me!
with which the feeble tricklings of Peele were wholly
insignificant. It is not probable that Peele's play was Song.
written before 1590, as one passage in it is a direct What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
plagiarism from the Faery Queen of Spenser. We O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale
may allow Peele the merit of a delicate poetical Jug, jug, jug, jug-tereu-she cries,
fancy and smooth musical versification. The defect And still her woes at midnight rise.
of his blank verse is its want of variety: the art of
varying the pauses and modulating the verse with-That precious fount bear sand of purest gold; out the aid of rhyme had not yet been generally And for the pebble, let the silver streams adopted. In David and Bethsabe this monotony is That pierce earth's bowels to maintain the source, less observable, because his lines are smoother, and Play upon rubies, sapphires, crysolites; there is a play of rich and luxurious fancy in some The brim let be embracd with golden curls of the scenes.
Of moss that sleeps with sound the waters make
For joy to feed the fount with their recourse ;
Let all the grass that beautifies her bower,
Bear manna every morn, instead of dew; Of Israel's sweetest singer now I sing,
Or let the dew be sweeter far than that His holy style and happy victories ;
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill, Whose muse was dipt in that inspiring dew,
| Or balm which trickled from old Aaron's beard. Archangels 'stilled from the breath of Jove, Decking her temples with the glorious flowers
Enter Cusay. Heaven rain'd on tops of Sion and Mount Sinai. | See, Cusay, see the flower of Israel, Upon the bosom of his ivory lute
The fairest daughter that obeys the king, The cherubim and angels laid their breasts ;
In all the land the Lord subdued to me, And when his consecrated fingers struck
Fairer than Isaac's lover at the well, The golden wires of his ravishing harp,
Brighter than inside bark of new-hewn cedar, He gave alarum to the host of heaven,
Sweeter than flames of fine perfumed myrrh ; That, wing'd with lightning, brake the clouds, and cast And comelier than the silver clouds that dance Their crystal armour at his conquering feet.
On zephyr's wings before the King of Heaven. Of this sweet poet, Jove's musician,
Cusay. Is it not Bethsabe the Hethite's wife, And of his beauteous son, I press to sing ;
Urias, now at Rabath siege with Joab ? | Then help, divine Adonai, to conduct
David. Go now and bring her quickly to the king ; Upon the wings of my well-temper'd verse,
Tell her, her graces hath found grace with him. The hearers' minds above the towers of heaven,
Cusay. I will, my lord.
[Exit. | And guide them so in this thrice haughty flight, David. Bright Bethsabe shall wash in David's Their mounting feathers scorch not with the fire
bower That none can temper but thy holy hand :
In water mixed with purest almond flower, To thee for succour flies my feeble muse,
And bathe her beauty in the milk of kids; And at thy feet her iron pen doth use.
| Bright Bethsabe gives earth to my desires,
Verdure to earth, and to that verdure flowers, BETHSABE and her maid bathing. King David above.
To flowers sweet odours, and to odours wings,
That carries pleasures to the hearts of kings.
Now comes my lover tripping like the roe,
To 'joy her love I'll build a kingly bower, | Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me and please me ; | Seated in hearing of a hundred streams,
Shadow (my sweet nurse) keep me from burning, That, for their homage to her sovereign joys,
Shall, as the serpents fold into their nests,
In oblique turnings wind the nimble waves Inflame unstaid desire,
About the circles of her curious walks, Nor pierce any bright eye
And with their murmur summon easeful sleep, That wandereth lightly.
To lay his golden sceptre on her brows. Bethsabe. Come, gentle zephyr, trick'd with those perfumes
Mr Lamb says justly, that the line . seated in hearing That erst in Eden sweeten'd Adam's love,
of a hundred streams' is the best in the above pasAnd stroke my bosom with the silken fan :
sage. It is indeed a noble poetical image. Peele This shade (sun proof) is yet no proof for thee;
died before 1599, and seems, like most of his draThy body, smoother than this waveless spring,
matic brethren, to have led an irregular life, in the And purer than the substance of the same,
midst of severe poverty. A volume of Merry ConCan creep through that his lances cannot pierce.
ceited Jests, said to have been by him, was published Thou and thy sister, soft and sacred air,
after his death in 1607, which shows that he was Goddess of life and governess of health, Keeps every fountain fresh and arbour sweet ;
not scrupulous as to the means of relieving his
In 1588, THOMAS Kyn produced his play of HieroDavid. What tunes, what words, what looks, what nimo or Jeronimo, and some years afterwards a second wonders pierce
part to it, under the title of the Spanish Tragedy, or My soul, incensed with a sudden fire !
Hieronimó is Mad Again. This second part is supWhat tree, what shade, what spring, what paradise, posed to have gone through more editions than any Enjoys the beauty of so fair a dame!
play of the time. Ben Jonson was afterwards enFair Eva, plac'd in perfect happiness,
gaged to make additions to it, when it was revived Lending her praise-notes to the liberal heavens, in 1601, and further additions in 1602. These new Struck with the accents of archangels' tunes,
scenes are said by Lamb to be the very salt of the Wrought not more pleasure to her husband's thoughts old play,' and so superior to Jonson's acknowledged Than this fair woman's words and notes to mine. works, that he attributes them to Webster, or some May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant weight, more potent spirit' than Ben. This seems refining Be still enameli'd with discolour'd flowers;
too much in criticism. Kyd, like Marlow, often
verges upon bombast, and deals largely in blood 1 The sun's rays. and death.'
written in conjunction with Lodge, Greene died THOMAS NASI.
in September 1592, owing, it is said, to a surfeit of Tuomas NASH. a lively satirist, who amused the red herrings and Rhenish wine! Besides his plays, town with his attacks on Gabriel Harvey and the he wrote a number of tracts, one of which, Pandosto, Puritans, wrote a comedy called Summer's Last Ilill the Triumph of Time, 1588, was the source from and Testament, which was exhibited before Queen which Shakspeare derived the plot of his Winter's Elizabeth in 1592. He was also concerned with Tale. Some lines contained in this tale are very Marlow in writing the tragedy of Dido, Queen of beautiful :-Carthage. He was imprisoned for being the author
| Ah, were she pitiful as she is fair, of a satirical play, never printed, called the Isle of
Or but as mild as she is seeming so, Dogs. Another piece of Nash's, entitled the Suppli- ||
the upp? Then were my hopes greater than my despair cation of Pierce Penniless to the Devil, was printed in of Pierce l'enniless to the Devil, was printed in Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.
The 1592, which was followed next year by Christ's Tears Ah, were her heart relenting as her hand, over Jerusalem. Nash was a native of Leostoff, in That seems to melt e'en with the mildest touch, Suffolk, and was born about the year 1564; he was Then knew I where to seat me in a land of St John's college, Cambridge, He died about | Under the wide heavens, but yet not such. the year 1600, after a life spent, he says, “in So as she shows, she seems the budding rose, fantastical satirism, in whose veins heretofore I | Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower ; mispent my spirit, and prodigally conspired against | Sovereign of beauty, like the spray she grows, good hours.' He was the Churchill of his day, and Compass'd she is with thorns and canker'd flower was much famed for his satires. One of his con- | Yet, were she willing to be pluck'd and worn, temporaries remarks of him, in a happy couplet | She would be gather'd though she grew on thom.
His style was witty, though he had some gall, | The blank verse of Greene approaches next to that Something he might have mended, so may all. of Marlow, though less energetic. His imagination
Return from Parnassus. was lively and discursive, fond of legendary lore, and The versification of Nash is hard and monotonous.
filled with classical images and illustrations. In his The following is from his comedy of Summer's Last
Orlando, he thus apostrophises the evening star : Will and Testament, and is a favourable specimen Fair queen of love, thou mistress of delight, of his blank verse : - great part of the play is in Thou gladsome lamp that wait'st on Phæbe's train, prose :
Spreading thy kindness through the jarring orbs,
That in their union praise thy lasting powers ; I never loy'd ambitiously to climb,
Thou that hast stay'd the fiery Phlegon's course, Or thrust my hand too far into the fire.
And mad'st the coachman of the glorious wain To be in heaven sure is a blessed thing,
To droop in view of Daphne's excellence; But, Atlas-like, to prop heaven on one's back
Fair pride of morn, sweet beauty of the even, Cannot but be inore labour than delight.
Look on Orlando languishing in love. Such is the state of men in honour placed :
Sweet solitary groves, whereas the nymphs They are gold vessels made for servile uses ;
With pleasance laugh to see the satyrs play, High trees that keep the weather from low houses,
Witness Orlando's faith unto his love. But cannot shield the tempest from themselves.
Tread she these lawns --kind Flora, boast thy pride: I love to dwell betwixt the hills and dales,
Seek she for shades ?-spread, cedars, for her sake. Neither to be so great as to be envied,
Fair Flora, make her couch amidst thy flowers. Nor yet so poor the world should pity me.
Sweet crystal springs,
Wash ye with roses when she longs to drink. In his poem of Pierce Penniless, Nash draws a har
Ah thought, my heaven ! Ah heaven, that knows my rowing picture of the despair of a poor scholar
thought ! Ah, worthless wit! to train me to this woe :
Smile, joy in her that my content hath wrought. Deceitful arts that nourish discontent :
Passages like this prove that Greene succeeds well, Ill thrive the folly that bewitch'd me so !
as Hallam remarks, in that florid and gay style, a Vain thoughts adieu ! for now I will repent little redundant in images, which Shakspeare freAnd yet my wants persuade me to proceed,
quently gives to liis princes and courtiers, and which For none take pity of a scholar's need.
renders some unimpassioned scenes in the historic Forgive me, God, although I curse my birth, plays effective and brilliant.' Professor Tieck gives And ban the air wherein I breathe a wretch, him the high praise of possessing ' a happy talent, a Since misery hath daunted all my mirth,
clear spirit, and a lively imagination.' His comedies And I am quite undone through promise breach ; have a good deal of boisterous merriment and farcica] Ah, friends -no friends that then ungentle frown humour. George-a-Green is a shrewd YorkshireWhen changing fortune casts us headlong down. mani, who meets with the kings of Scotland and
England, Robin Hood, Maid Marian, &c., and who,
after various tricks, receives the pardon of King ROBERT GREENE.
EdwardRODERT GREENE, a more distinguished dramatist, | George-a-Green, give me thy hand : there is is conjectured to have been a native of Norfolk, as None in England that shall do thee wrong. he adds • Norfolciensis' to his name, in one of his pro- Even from my court I came to see thyself, ductions. He was educated at Clare-Hall, Cam- And now I see that fame speaks nought but truth. bridge, and in 1583 appeared as an author. He is
The following is a specimen of the simple humour supposed to have been in orders, and to have held the
and practical jokes in the play: it is in a scene be. vicaragc of Tollesbury, in Essex, as, in 1585, Robert Greene, the vicar, lost his preferment. The plays of
|tween George and his servant:-
Xo, marry, shall he, sir, quoth I;
epicures, whose loose life hath made religion-loathsome I'll lay my cloak underneath him.
to your ears; and when they soothe you with terms of I took my cloak, spread it all along,
mastership, remember Robert Greene (whom they have And his horse on the midst of it.
often flattered) perishes for want of comfort. ReGeorge. Thou clown, did'st thou set his horse upon member, gentlemen, your lives are like so many lightthy cloak?
tapers that are with care delivered to all of you to Jerikin. Ay, but mark how I served him.
maintain ; these, with wind-puffed wrath, may be exMadge and he were no sooner gone down into the tinguished, with drunkenness put out, with negligence ditch,
let fall. The fire of my light is now at the last snuff. But I plucked out my knife, cut four holes in my My hand is tired, and I forced to leave where I would cloak,
begin ; desirous that you should live, though himself And made his horse stand on the bare ground. be dying.–ROBERT GREENE.' • Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay' is Greene's best comedy. His friars are conjurors, and the piece con
Content--A Sonnct. clodes with one of their pupils being carried off to hell on the back of one of Friar Bacon's devils. Mr Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content : Collier thinks this was one of the latest instances of The quiet mind is richer than a crown : the devil being brought upon the stage in propria Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent : persona. The play was acted in 1591, but may have | The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown. been produced a year or two earlier.
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, In some hour of repentance, when death was nigh Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss. at hand, Greene wrote a tract called A Groat's Worth The homely house that harbours quiet rest, of Wit, Bought with a Million of Repentance, in which The cottage that affords no pride nor care, he deplores his fate more feelingly than Nash, and | The mean, that 'grees with country music best, also gives ghostly advice to his acquaintances, that
The sweet consort of mirth's and music's fare. spend their wit in making plays.' Marlow he | Obscured life sets down a type of bliss ; accuses of atheism : Lodge he designates young
A mind content both crown and kingdom is. Juvenal,' and ' a sweet boy ;' Peele he considers too good for the stage; and he glances thus at Shaks
[Sephestia's Song to her Child, peare :-For there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger's heart wrapt
After escaping from Shipwreck.] in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bom
Mother's wag, pretty boy, bast out a blank verse as the best of you ; and being
Father's sorrow, father's joy, an absolute Johannes Fac-totum, is, in his own
When thy father first did see conceit, the only Shake-scene in a country. The
Such a boy by him and me, panning allusion to Shakspeare is palpable: the
He was glad, I was woe, expressions, 'tiger's heart,' &c. are a parody on the
Fortune changed made him so ; line in Henry VI., part third
When he had left his pretty boy,
Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not my wanton, smile upon my knee ; The Winter's Tale is believed to be one of Shaks
When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee. peare's late dramas, not written till long after Greene's death; consequently, if this be correct, the
The wanton smiled, father wept, unhappy man could not allude to the plagiarism
Mother cried, baby leap'd ;
of the plot from his tale of Pandosto. Some forgotten
More he crowd, more he cried, play of Greene and his friends may have been al
Nature could not sorrow hide; luded to; perhaps the old dramas on which Shaks.
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bless ; peare constructed his Henry VI., for in one of these,
For he left his pretty boy, the line, • o tiger's heart,' &c., also occurs. These
Father's sorrow, father's joy. old plays, however, seem above the pitch of Greene in tragedy. The "Groat's Worth of Wit' was pub
Weep not my wanton, smile upon my knee ;
When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee. lished after Greene's death by a brother dramatist, Henry Chettle, who, in the preface to a subsequent work, apologised indirectly for the allusion to Shaks
The Shepherd and his Wife. peare. I am as sorry,' he says, 'as if the original fault had been my fault, because myself have seen It was near a thicky shade, his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the That broad leaves of beech had made, quality he professes. Besides, divers of worship have
Joining all their tops so nigh, reported his uprightness of dealing, which argues his That scarce Phæbus in could pry; honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that ap Where sat the swain and his wife, proves his art.' This is a valuable statement: full
Sporting in that pleasing life, justice is done to Shakspeare's moral worth and civil That Coridon commendeth so, deportment, and to his respectability as an actor and All other lives to over-go. author. Chettle's apology or explanation was made
He and she did sit and keep in 1593.
Flocks of kids and flocks of sheep : The conclusion of Greene's. Groat's Worth of Wiť He upon his pipe did play, il contains more pathos than all his plays: it is a har
She tuned voice unto his lay. rowing picture of genius debased by vice, and sor And, for you might her housewife know, rowing in repentance :
Voice did sing and fingers sew.
He was young, his coat was green, "But now return I again to you three (Marlow, With welts of white seamed between, Lodge, and Peele), knowing my misery is to you no Turned over with a flap, liews : and let me heartily intreat you to be warned That breast and bosom in did wrap, by my harms. Delight not, as I have done, in irre Skirts side and plighted free, ligious oaths, despise drunkenness, fly lust, abhor those Seemly hanging to his knee,