Pain. Alas! sir, I had no more but he.

Hier. Nor I, nor I; but this same one of mine
Was worth a legion. But all is one.

Pedro, Jaques, go in a doors. Isabella, go;
And this good fellow here and I

Will range this hideous orchard up and down,
Like two she lions, 'reaved of their young.
Go in a doors, I say.

Come, let's talk wisely now.

Was thy son murdered?

Pain. Ay, sir.

Hier. So was mine.

[Exeunt. The PAINTER and he sit down.

How dost thou take it? Art thou not sometime mad?
Is there no tricks that come before thine eyes?

Pain. O Lord! yes, sir.

Hier. Art a painter? Canst paint me a tear, a wound? A groan or a sigh? Canst paint me such a tree as this? Pain. Sir, I am sure you have heard of my painting; My name's Bazardo.

Hier. Bazardo! 'fore God, an excellent fellow! Look you, sir. Do you see? I'd have you paint me in my gallery, in your oilcolours matted, and draw me five years younger than I am do you see, sir? Let five years go, let them go-my wife Isabella standing by me, with a speaking look to my son Horatio, which should intend to this, or some such like purpose: 'God bless thee ! my sweet son;' and my hand leaning upon his head thus, sir; do you see? May it be done?

Pain. Very well, sir.

Hier. Nay, I pray, mark me, sir.

Then, sir, would I have you paint me this tree, this very tree :

Canst paint a doleful cry?

Pain. Seemingly, sir.

Hier. Nay, it should cry; but all is one.

Well, sir, paint me a youth run through and through;

With villains' swords hanging upon this tree.

Canst thou draw a murderer?

Pain. I'll warrant you, sir; I have the pattern of the most notorious villains that ever lived in all Spain.

Hier. O let them be worse, worse; stretch thine art,

And let their beards be of Judas's own colour,

And let their eyebrows jut over in any case observe that.

Then, sir, after some violent noise, bring me forth in my shirt, and my gown under my arm, with my torch in my hand, and my

MYSTERY OF AUTHORSHIP.

497

sword reared up thus, and with these words, 'What noise is this? Who calls Hieronymo?' May it be done?

Pain. Yea, sir.

Hier. Well, sir, then bring me forth-bring me through alley and alley, still with a distracted countenance going along, and let my hair heave up my night cap. Let the clouds scowl; make the moon dark, the stars extinct, the winds blowing, the bells tolling, the owls shrieking, the toads croaking, the minutes jarring, and the clock striking twelve. And then at last, sir, starting, behold a man hanging, and tottering, and tottering, as you know the wind will wave a man, and with a trice to cut him down. And looking upon him by advantage of my torch, find it to be my son Horatio. There you may show a passion; there you may show a passion. Draw me like old Priam of Troy, crying, 'The house is a-fire, the house is a-fire,' and the torch over my head; make me curse, make me rave, make me cry, make me mad, make me well again; make me curse hell, invocate, and in the end leave me in a trance, and so forth.

Pain. And is this the end?

Hier. O no, there is no end; the end is death and madness.

And I am never better than when I am mad.

Then methinks, I am a brave fellow;

Then I do wonders; but reason abuseth me ;
And there's the torment, there's the hell.

At last, sir, bring to me one of the murderers ;
Were he as strong as Hector,

Thus would I tear and drag him up and down.

[He beats the PAINTER in.

After all has been said and suggested, impenetrable mystery hangs over the authorship of this scene. Henslowe's Diary and certain allusions to 'The Spanish Tragedy' in Jonson's comedies, point to Ben Jonson as the writer. But it is almost impossible to conceive that Ben Jonson, if he had composed this scene to order while yet a prentice in the playwright's craft, should have afterwards abandoned a style which he commanded with such gust and passion. How came he to exchange it for that scholastic mannerism

K K

which, except for the romantic passages of The Case is Altered,' we discern as second nature in his genius? Had Shakspere a hand in these additions? Or was he, perhaps, thinking of Hieronymo's hyperbolical retort upon the Painter, when he penned for Hamlet':

I loved Ophelia ; forty thousand brothers
Could not with all their quantity of love
Make up my sum ?

Had the author of Titus Andronicus' anything to do with them? Or, in the lunàcies of Titus, did he simply imitate and dilute the concentrated frenzy of Hieronymo? Such queries and surmises are idle. But they have at least the effect of keeping vividly before our minds the extraordinary potency of scenes which tempt us to ever new unprofitable guess-work.

CHAPTER XIII.

JOHN LYLY.

I. The Publication of 'Euphues '-Its Two Parts-Outline of the Story.II. It forms a Series of Short Treatises-Love-Conduct-Education -A Book for Women. III. Its Popularity-The Spread of Euphuism-What we Mean by that Word.-IV. Qualities of Medieval Taste-Allegory - Symbolism - The Bestiaries-Qualities of Early Humanism-Scholastic Subtleties-Petrarchistic Diction-Bad Taste in Italy-Influence of Italian Literature-The Affectation of the Sixteenth Century--Definition of Euphuism-Illustrations.-V. Lyly becomes a Courtier-His Want of Success-The Simplicity of his Dramatic Prose-The Beauty of the Lyrics-The Novelty of his Court-Comedies.-VI. Eight Pieces ascribed to Lyly-Six Played before Elizabeth-The Allegories of their Classic Fables-Endimion' -Its Critique.-VII. 'Midas'-Political Allusions-Sapho and Phao-Elizabeth and Leicester'-Details of this Comedy. -VIII. 'Alexander and Campaspe '-Touch upon Greek Story-Diogenes— A Dialogue on Love-The Lyrics.--IX. 'Gallathea '-- Its Relation to 'As You Like It'-'Love's Metamorphosis'-Its Relation to Jonson -Mother Bombie'-'The Woman in the Moon.'-X. Lyly as a Master of his Age-Influence on Shakspere-His Inventions.

I.

In the year 1579 a book appeared in London which was destined to make an epoch in English literary history, and to win for its author fame and fashion almost unparalleled among his contemporaries. This book bore the title of 'Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit.' It was written by John Lyly, a member of Magdalen College, Oxford, Master of Arts, then in his twentyseventh year. In the spring following, a sequel, called Euphues, his England,' issued from the press. The

two parts formed one work, conceived and executed after the Italian style of moral dissertation and romantic story. 'Euphues' is, in fact, a collection of essays, tales, letters, and meditative disquisitions, 'sowed,' to use the author's own words, 'here and there like strawberries, not in heaps like hops.' In planning this book Lyly had a clearly didactic intention. It was his purpose to set forth opinions regarding the formation of character by training and experience; to criticise social conduct; to express his views upon love and friendship, religion and philosophy; to discuss the then so favourite topic of foreign travel; and to convey this miscellaneous instruction in a form agreeable to his readers.

The story, with which Lyly interwove his weightier discourses, may be briefly told. The book opens with a minute description of the hero's character and person. Euphues, who is meant to embody the qualities denoted by his Greek name, is an Athenian youth of good fortune, comely presence, and quick parts, somewhat too much given to pleasure. He comes to Naples, where he makes acquaintance with an old man named Eubulus, and a young man called Philautus. Eubulus gives him abundance of good counsel, both as regards the conduct of his life in general and the special dangers he will have to meet in Naples. Euphues receives it kindly, but prefers to buy wisdom by experience, arguing that it ill beseems a young man to rule himself by the precepts of the aged, before he has tasted of life for himself. With Philautus he strikes up a romantic friendship. This new comrade brings him into the society of Lucilla, a Neapolitan lady, to whom Philautus is already paying his addresses with her father's sanc