66 improver of Marlowe, and Greene, and Peele, and Kyd." The two Parts of The Contention' were produced as early, if not earlier, than 1591, by universal admission. Mr. Collier thinks (a little, we apprehend, with the partiality of an advocate) that even Shakspere's Richard II.' “ presents no variety of rhythm that may not be found" in Marlowe's Edward II.' If we can show that in the Edward II.' there is no variety of rhythm that may not be found in the two Parts of The Contention,'—if we have shown that Marlowe could not have been the author of those two dramas,—and if we establish that Shakspere must have been their author,—there is an end of Mr. Collier's theory, with regard to the versification of Shakspere, that "the varieties of pause, inflection, and modulation in Marlowe "left our greatest dramatist little more to do than to follow his example.” 6 Mr. Collier admits that the monotony of the elder blank-verse,— the monosyllabic endings of the lines, the construction of blankverse couplets as it were,-is a defect to "be found in Marlowe's first experiment ;" and "when he produced his Faustus' he had not yet learnt to avoid it." In The Jew of Malta' he finds an improvement in the versification; but in the Edward II.' it "is exhibited in its greatest excellence." He then proceeds to analyse this excellence, which consists in the judicious employment of Alexandrines, the use of a redundant syllable, whether at the close. of a line or before the close, and the varied pause. Mr. Collier gives examples of passages that combine these merits. We propose to offer some similar examples from the two Parts of The Contention; and, believing these dramas to have preceded Edward II.,' we shall, in placing Mr. Collier's selections from Marlowe in apposition with those from The Contention,' give Shakspere the first column, and Marlowe the second :— FROM THE CONTENTION. 1. "As by your high imperial majesty's command." "Unto your gracious excellence, that are the substance." "Pardon, my lord, a sudden qualm came o'er my heart." "And bashful Henry be depos'd, whose cowardice." "Broke in, and were by th' hands of common soldiers slain." 2. "Methought I was in the cathedral church At Westminster, and seated in the chair Where kings and queens are crown'd, and at my feet FROM MARLOWE'S EDWARD II. 1. "But, for we know thou art a noble gentleman." "Thou com'st from Mortimer and his accomplices." "To make me miserable! here receive my crown." "Further, ere this letter was seal'd lord Berkley came." "Oh, level all your looks upon these daring men." 2. "Away! poor Gaveston, that has no friend but me; Do what they can, we'll live in Tynmouth here; And so I walk with him about the walls, * Introductory Notice to The Merchant of Venice.' Henry and Margaret with a crown of gold Stood ready to set it on my princely head." "And you, my gracious lady and sovereign mistress, Causeless have laid complaints upon my head. I shall not want false witnesses enough, 3. "War. Trust me, my lords, all hitherto goes well; The common people by numbers swarm to us. But see where Somerset and Clarence come; Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? Cla. Fear not that, my lord. War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick, And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful, where a noble heart Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love: Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: But welcome, sweet Clarence, my daughter shall be thine. 4. "War. Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick ? Under whose shade the rampant lion slept, Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree. The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; 4. "Leicester. Be patient, good my lord: cease to lament. Imagine Killingworth-castle were your court, And that you lay for pleasure here a space, Not of compulsion or necessity. Edw. Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long ago had eas'd my sorrows, For kind and loving hast thou always been. The griefs of private men are soon allay'd, But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds; But when the imperial lion's flesh is gor'd, He rends and tear it with his wrathful paw, For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow? Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood, [And], highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air." It would be tedious were we to carry this comparison much beyond the limits of Mr. Collier's extracts from the Edward II.'; but we cannot resist the temptation of putting the celebrated scene of the murder of Henry VI. side by side with the no less celebrated scene of the murder of Edward II. :— FROM THE CONTENTION. "Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard? King. Ay, my good lord. Lord, I should say rather; "T is sin to flatter, good was little better; Good Gloster, and good devil, were all alike. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? Glo. Suspicion always haunts a guilty mind. King. The bird once lim'd doth fear the fatal bush; And I, the hapless male to one poor bird, Have now the fatal object in mine eye, Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd. Glo. Why, what a fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a bird! And yet, for all that, the poor fowl was drown'd. King. I, Dædalus; my poor son, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; Thy brother Edward the sun that sear'd his wings; And thou the enviest gulf that swallow'd him. Oh, better can my breast abide thy dagger's point, Than can mine ears that tragic history. Glo. Why, dost thou think I am an executioner? King. A persecutor, I am sure thou art; And if murthering innocents be executions, Then I know thou art an executioner. Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. That many a widow for her husband's death, Shall curse the time that ever thou wert born. The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; The night-crow cried, a boding luckless tune; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees; FROM EDWARD II. "Edward. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou ? Lightborn. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain, I know thou com'st to murther me. Light. To murther you, my gracious lord! Far is it from my heart to do you harm. The queen sent me to see how you were used, For she relents at this your misery: And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, To see a king in this most piteous state? Edw. Weep'st thou already? list awhile to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, Wherein the filth of all the castle falls. Light. O villains! Edw. And there, in mire and puddle, have I stood This ten days' space; and lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum. They give me bread and water, being a king; And whether I have limbs or no, I know not. O, would my blood drop out from every vein, As doth this water from my tatter'd robes! Tell Isabel, the queen, I look`d not thus, When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, And there unhors'd the duke of Cleremont. Light. O, speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart. Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while. Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought but death: I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Sink into the ground? I had thought it would have mounted. See how my sword weeps for the poor king's Now may such purple tears always be shed, [Stabs him again. Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither; I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. I came into the world with my legs forward: And seek their ruins that usurp'd our rights? The women weeping, and the midwife crying, 'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth :' And so I was, indeed; which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the Then, since Heaven hath made my body so, I have no brothers, I am like no brothers; divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me; I am myself alone." One jewel have I left, receive thou this. Know, that I am a king: Oh, at that name Light. You're overwatch'd, my lord; lie Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep; For not these ten days have these eyelids Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. Edw. No, no; for if thou mean'st to mur ther me, Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. Edw. O let me not die; yet stay, O stay a Light. How now, my lord? Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou Light. To rid thee of thy life; Matrevis, come. Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist : Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul." These are two specimens of power unequalled by any poet except the author of one of the passages. The power of both passages is in their reality. But where did Marlowe attain that power so essentially different from his wonted characteristics? We forbear to press this point. We only ask an impartial examination of the rhythm of the passage from the "old play" to determine in what school Marlowe learnt his later and most perfect versification. VOL. VII. H Before we conclude these observations on the versification of the old plays which it is held Shakspere did not write, we may properly notice a very remarkable peculiarity in the first of the series, which we think bears the evidence of being composed as early as any portion of the play. The First Part of Henry VI.' contains about a hundred and fifty consecutive lines which are essentially different in their poetical construction from the other portions of the play, or the series of plays; and, taken as a mass, entirely of another character from any connected passage of his dramas generally. We refer to the couplets of the fifth, sixth, and seventh scenes of the fourth act. Dr. Johnson says of the sixth scene, "For what reason this scene is written in rhyme, I cannot guess. If Shakspeare had not in other plays mingled his rhymes and blankverse in the same manner, I should have suspected that this dialogue had been a part of some other poem which was never finished, and that, being loth to throw his labour away, he inserted it here.' Johnson's theory is highly plausible. At any rate we may believe that Shakspere adopted rhyme-the "heroic verse" of Dryden—in this isolated and extensive manner, to render the concluding scenes of Talbot more emphatic. He was the hero of the play; he carried with him the highest sympathy of the audience. The principle upon which Dryden defended "heroic verse" in tragedy must have been the governing principle of its use in the passage in question:"If you once admit of a latitude, that thoughts may be exalted, and that images and actions may be raised above the life, and described in measure without rhyme, that leads you insensibly from your own principles to mine: you are already so far onward of your way that you have forsaken the imitation of ordinary converse. That Shakspere thoroughly understood the far higher dramatic powers of the other instrument, measure without rhyme," requires no proof. But in the introduction of the scene before us— the longest-sustained scene in heroic verse which his plays exhibit, or, as far as we know, which any contemporary drama exhibits-it is manifest to us that he made an experiment such as a very young poet would alone venture to make. But in this experiment we believe that he carried the powers of the inferior instrument farther, for dramatic purposes, than any poet who preceded or came after him. The extraordinary freedom of the versification, which, however, does not possess the slightest ruggedness, has not been approached even by Dryden himself; and of all Shakspere's contemporaries in the use of the couplet, there is not one who has attempted * Essay prefixed to The Conquest of Grenada.' |