In power of others, never in my own; Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half. O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day!' The tragedy is cast in the strictest classical mould. It is clear cut, strong, at times almost harsh in its severe intensity; Greek in form, but vitalized by the inspiration of the Hebrew prophets. Here is the eternal protest of the human soul against the baffling and inscrutable dislocation of the world, the protest that found its earliest and noblest expression in the drama of Job. In the Greek tragedians the note of despair predominates, but in Samson, as in Job, faith is justified in the issue of the contest. As has often been pointed out, the chorus in Samson Agonistes bears the same close relation to the development of the plot as in the tragedies of Sophocles. Its moral generalizations explain, without interrupting, the purpose of the tragedy, and give coherence to the scattered hints and allusions of the dialogue. In form, these choral odes are rugged, occasionally even uncouth; stronger but less sweet than the lyrical verses of Milton's earlier poetical period. In the construction of the tragedy he has followed closely the account of Samson in the book of Judges, but his strict adhesion to the unities' of time, place, and action, obliged him to develop the plot by dialogue rather than by incident.' His only important addition to the Scriptural narrative-the introduction of the giant Harapha helps to sustain the action of the drama where it begins to flag, and forms a link in the chain of events leading on to the final catastrophe. After the exit of Samson the tragedy becomes more intense, and the dialogue moves on in unfaltering strength to the close. In Comus Milton had shown the spirit of corruption, that threatened to dominate Church and State, vanquished by the power of virtue and purity; now, in the drama of his old age, Puritanism appears as the blind and discredited champion of Divine Vengeance, condemned to bear the insolent defiance of the Harapha of brute secular force, and the subtler mockery of the Dalila of religious seductions. Unconquered, though unable to achieve the deliverance that had once seemed within its grasp, the Puritan party might yet hope to strike one more blow for freedom, and perish in the overthrow of its enemies. When, therefore, Milton issued his last two poems together, he laid before the vanquished adherents of the Commonwealth a great alternative. On the one side was the victory of patience and self-repression--the Divine overcoming of evil with good; on the other hand was the triumph of revenge-swift, merciless, irresistible; and though the poet leaves the scales balanced between the two, his own old age testified that he had chosen the better part-to obey, to be patient, and to hope. 1 CHAPTER IV. DRAMATIC POETS. THE death of Ben Jonson in 1637 brought to a close the great age of the Elizabethan Dramatists. Webster had died in 1630, Chapman and Marston in 1634, and Dekker not long after. But the days of its splendour had passed away with the deaths of Shakespeare and Fletcher, while the broadening burlesque of its comedy, the overstrained horror of its tragedy, and a certain undefinable atmosphere of unreality that pervaded it, all gave token that its decay had begun. To trace the course of this decline belongs to the history of the preceding period; its results are apparent in the work of the three dramatists of note who continued to write during the later years of the reign of Charles I.-Massinger, Ford, and Shirley. Philip Massinger-modest and manly Massinger,' as Mr. Masson calls him-was born in 1584, Philip Massinger the son of a gentleman in the service of (1584-1639). the Earl of Pembroke, and entered St. Alban's Hall, Oxford, in 1602. In 1606, he quitted the university, but whether on account of his father's death, or his own conversion to the Roman Catholic faith, is doubtful. He came to London, and there we almost lose sight of him for fifteen years, the only record of his life during this period being a pathetic, and happily successful, request to Henslowe for five pounds to secure release from V a debtor's prison. He seems to have helped Fletcher and other dramatists, but to what extent is uncertain. In 1621 he composed a Comedy entitled The Woman's Plot, which was performed at Court, and from this time to the close of his life Massinger was a prolific writer of dramas. He died in 1639, and was buried at St. Saviour's Church, Southwark, in the same grave in which the remains of his friend Fletcher had been laid fourteen years before. Eighteen plays, wholly or in part by Massinger, have survived, and it is probable that these adequately represent his best and most characteristic work. Of those written in ✔collaboration the earliest and best is The Virgin Martyr, written in conjunction with Dekker, and printed in 1622. The Fatal Dowry, written in conjunction with Field, is a drama of much less note, and The Old Law, in which Massinger is said to have co-operated with Middleton and Rowley, probably only owes to him a few emendations. Of Massinger's own plays, the two earliest, The Unnatural Combat and The Duke of Milan, though containing some noble passages and powerful scenes, are glaringly improbable, and regarded as dramatic compositions, utterly defective. The Bondman and The Renegade show some advance in construction; the former especially, only falling short of high excellence through the comparative weakness of its conclusion. The Roman Actor, licensed in 1626, must rank as one of Massinger's masterpieces. He himself 'ever held it as the most perfect birth of his Minerva.' The Roman actor Paris, under the patronage of Domitian, defends the dignity of his art against the hostility of the Senate, but falls a victim to the jealousy of the Emperor, whose mistress, Domitia, has become infatuated with him. The murder of Paris by Domitian, a tragedy within a tragedy for the event is represented as occurring while both are taking part in a dramatic performance-is finely conceived, as is also the fall of Domitian, with which the drama closes. The atmosphere of the play is one of dignity rather than of passion, and the character of Domitian, though impressive, is somewhat wanting in individuality; yet among classical plays of this period The Roman Actor deservedly occupies a high place. The Great Duke of Florence (1627) also ranks high among Massinger's plays. Though there is little humour in the comedy, it is pervaded by an unusual delicacy and lightness of touch. The date of The Maid of Honour is uncertain, but it probably belongs to the same year as the last play. It is well constructed and interesting, and ends in a somewhat unexpected dénouement; for on the outcome of the complex love intrigues in which the hero and heroine become involved, Camiola takes the veil as a nun, while Bertoldo renews his vows of celibacy as a knight of Malta. The Picture and The Emperor of the East are less noteworthy. The latter, which was produced at Court, contains some rather bold lines against royal claims to arbitrary power, which have been thought to imply Massinger's sympathy with the popular cause : 'You roar out All is the King's, his will above his laws; Massinger's next Comedy, A New Way to Pay Old Debts, (1633) has deservedly retained its popularity for theatrical purposes to our own day. Much of this popularity is due to the character of Sir Giles Overreach, whose prosperity and overthrow give just that kind of dramatic satisfaction which is wanting in most of the later Elizabethan plays. The old miser, watching with grim satisfaction the victims struggling in the meshes of his net, is a powerfully drawn and intensely living personality. Overreach's madness is L |