Chapter VI: Act I: scene iii. has the characteristics of Shakspere. It is (1)

identified, not only by several others of the qualities marking the first scene, but more particularly by the wealth of its allusion, and by a closeness, directness, and pertinency of reply which Fletcher's most spirited dialogues do not reach. It presents more than one exceed[33:1]ingly beautiful climax; a figure which repeatedly occurs in the play, and is always used with peculiar energy.

SCENE--_Before the Gates of Athens.--Enter Perithous, Hippolita, and Emilia._

_Perithous._ No further.

_Hippolita._ Sir, farewell. Repeat my wish|es
To our great lord, of whose success I dare | not
Make any timorous question; yet I wish | him
Excess and overflow of power, an't might | be,
To dure ill-dealing Fortune. Speed to him!
Store never hurts good governors.

[Sidenote: Shakspere metaphor,]

_Perithous._ Though I know
His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
Must yield their tribute there. (_To Emilia._) My precious maid,
Those best affections that the heavens infuse
In their _best-tempered pieces_, keep _enthroned_
In your dear heart!

_Emilia._ Thanks, sir! Remember me
To our all royal brother, for whose speed
The great Bellona I'll solicit; and,
Since in our terrene state, petitions are | not,
Without gifts, understood, I'll offer to | her
What I shall be advised she likes. Our hearts
Are in his army, in his tent.

[Sidenote: phrase.]

_Hippolita._ In's bos|om!
We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep
When our friends don their helms or put to sea,
Or tell of babes broacht on the lance, or wom|en
That have sod their infants in (and after eat | them)
The brine they wept at killing them; then if
You stay to see of us such spinsters, we
Should hold you here for ever.

. . . . .

_Emilia._ How his long|ing
Follows his friend!...
Have you observëd him
Since our great lord departed?

_Hippolita._ With much la|bour,
And I did love him for't.[33:2]...

[Sidenote: Female friendship: the description has Shakspere's characteristics.]

[34:1]The description of female friendship which follows is familiar to all lovers of poetry. It is disfigured by one or two strained conceits, and some obscurities arising partly from errors in the text: but the beauty of the sketch in many parts is extreme, and its character distinctly that of Shakspeare, vigorous and even quaint, thoughtful and sometimes almost metaphysical, instinct with animation, and pregnant with fancy; offering, in short, little resemblance to the manner of any poet but Shakspeare, and the most unequivocal opposition to Fletcher's.

_Emilia._ Doubtless
There is a best, and reason has no man|ners
To say, it is not you. I was acquaint|ed
Once with a time when I enjoy'd a play|fellow----
You were at wars when she the grave enrich'd,
(Who made too proud the bed,) took leave o' the moon,
Which then look'd pale at parting, when our count
Was each eleven.

_Hippolita._ 'Twas Flavina.

[Sidenote: Shakspere fancy.]

_Emilia._ Yes.
You talk of Perithous' and Theseus' love:
Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seas|oned,
More buckled with strong judgment; and their needs,
The one of the other, may be said to wat|er
Their intertangled roots of love.--But I
And she I sigh and spoke of, were things in|nocent,--
Loved for we did, and,--like the elements,
That know not what nor why, yet do effect
Rare issues by their operance,--our souls
Did so to one another. What she liked,
Was then of me approved; what not, condemned.
No more arraign|ment.| The flower that I would pluck,
And put between my breasts, (then but begin|ning
To swell about the blossom,) she would long
Till she had such another, and commit | it
To the like innocent cradle, where, phoenix-like,
They died in perfume; on my head, no toy
But was her pattern; her affections, (pret|ty,
Though happily her careless wear,) I fol|low'd
For my most serious decking.--Had mine ear
Stolen some new air, or at adventure humm'd
From musical coinage,--why, it was a note
Whereon her spirits would sojourn, rather dwell | on,
And sing it in her slumbers.--This rehears|al
[34:2](Which, every innocent wots well, comes in
Like old importment's bastard) has this end,
That the true love 'tween maid and maid may be
More than in sex dividual....

[Sidenote: Act I. scene iv. Shakspere's.]

The fourth scene is laid in a battle-field near Thebes, and Theseus enters victorious. The three queens fall down with thanks before him; and a herald announces the capture of the Two Noble Kinsmen, wounded and senseless, and scarcely retaining the semblance of life. [Sidenote: Has Shakspere's words and quibbles.] The phraseology of this short scene is like Shakspeare's, being brief and energetic, and in one or two instances passing into quibbles.

[Sidenote: Act I. scene v. is Shakspere's.]

The last scene of this act is of a lyrical cast, and comprised in a few lamentations spoken by the widowed queens over the corpses of their dead lords. It ends with this couplet:

The world's a city full of straying streets,
And death's the market-place, where each one meets.

[Sidenote: Act II. not Shakspere's.]

In the Second Act no part seems to have been taken by Shakspeare. [Sidenote: The prose of II. i. is not from Chaucer,] It commences with one of those scenes which are introduced into the play in departure from the narrative of Chaucer, forming an underplot which is clearly the work of a different artist from many of the leading parts of the drama. The Noble Kinsmen, cured of their wounds, have been committed to strait and perpetual prison in Athens, and the first part of this scene is a prose dialogue between their jailor and a suitor of his daughter. The maiden's admiration of the prisoners is then exhibited. [Sidenote: and is very dull: it is not Shakspere's.] You will see afterwards, that there are several circumstances besides the essential dulness of this prose part, which fully absolve Shakspeare from the charge of having written it.

[Sidenote: The verse of Act II. scene i.]

The versified portion of this scene, which follows the prose dialogue among the inferior characters, presents the incident on which the interest of the story hinges, the commencement of the fatal and chimerical passion, which, inspiring both the knights towards the young Emilia, severs the bonds of friendship which had so long held them together. The noble prisoners are discovered in their turret-chamber, looking out on the palace-garden, which the lady afterwards enters. They speak [35:1]in a highly animated strain of that world from which they are secluded, and find themes of consolation for the hard lot which had overtaken them. The dialogue is in many respects admirable. [Sidenote: The verse of Act II. scene i. has the characteristics of Fletcher: double endings, end-stopt lines, vague images,] It possesses much eloquence of description, and the character of the language is smooth and flowing; the versification is good and accurate, frequent in double endings, and usually finishing the sense with the line; and one or two allusions occur, which, being favourites of Fletcher's, may be in themselves a strong presumption of his authorship; the images too have in some instances a want of distinctness in application or a vagueness of outline, which could be easily paralleled from Fletcher's acknowledged writings. [Sidenote: but romantic;] The style is fuller of allusions than his usually is, but the images are more correct and better kept from confusion than Shakspeare's; some of them indeed are exquisite, but rather in the romantic and exclusively poetical tone of Fletcher, than in the natural and universal mode of feeling which animates Shakspeare. [Sidenote: slack dialogue.] The dialogue too proceeds less energetically than Shakspeare's, falling occasionally into a style of long-drawn disquisition which Fletcher often substitutes for the quick and dramatic conversations of the great poet. [Sidenote: II. i. one of the finest scenes that Fletcher ever wrote.] On the whole, however, this scene, if it be Fletcher's, (of which I have no doubt,) is among the very finest he ever wrote; and there are many passages in which, while he preserves his own distinctive marks, he has gathered no small portion of the flame and inspiration of his immortal friend and assistant. In the following speeches there are images and phrases, which are either identically Fletcher's, or closely resemble his, and the whole cast both of versification and idiom is strictly his:--

[Sidenote: Act II. scene i. Fletcher's.]

_Palamon._ Oh, cousin Ar|cite!
Where is Thebes now? where is our noble coun|try?
Where are our friends and kindreds? Never more
Must we behold those comforts; never see
The hardy youths strive in the games of hon|our,
Hung with the painted favours of their la|dies,
Like tall ships under sail; then start among | them,
And as an east wind leave them all behind | us
Like lazy clouds, while Palamon and Ar|cite,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg,
Outstript the people's praises, won the gar|lands,
[37:1]Ere they have time to wish them ours. Oh, nev|er
Shall we two exercise, like twins of hon|our,
Our arms again, and feel our fiery hors|es
Like proud seas under us! our good swords now,
(Better the red-eyed god of war ne'er wore,)
Ravish'd our sides, like age must run to rust,
And deck the temples of the gods that hate | us:
These hands shall never draw them out like light|ning
To blast whole armies more.

[Sidenote: Picture fully wrought out.]

[Sidenote: Romantic, pathetic sketch.]

_Arcite._ ...
The sweet embraces of a loving wife,
Loaden with kisses, arm'd with thousand cu|pids,
Shall never clasp our necks: no issue know | us;
No figures of ourselves shall we e'er see,
To glad our age, and like young eagles teach | them
Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say,
"Remember what your fathers were, and con|quer."
--The fair-eyed maids shall weep our banishments,
And in their songs curse ever-blinded For|tune,
Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done
To youth and Nature.--This is all our world:
We shall know nothing here but one anoth|er,--
Hear nothing but the clock that tells our woes;
The vine shall grow, but we shall never see | it:
Summer shall come, and with her all delights,
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here | still!

_Palamon._ 'Tis too true, Arcite! To our Theban hounds,
That shook the aged forest with their ech|oes,
No more now must we halloo; no more shake
Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian[37:2] quiver from our rag|es,
Struck with our well-steel'd darts....

In this scene there is one train of metaphors which is perhaps as characteristic of Fletcher as any thing that could be produced. [Sidenote: Lines from II. i. on page 38, of slow orderly development of ideas, markt by Fletcher's characteristics.] It is marked by a slowness of association which he often shews. Several allusions are successively introduced; but by each, as it appears, we are prepared for and can anticipate the next; we see the connection of ideas in the poet's mind through which the one has sprung out of the other, and that all are but branches, of which one original thought is the root. [Sidenote: No leap to the end, and off with a fresh bound, like Shakspere.] All this is the work of [37:3]a less fertile fancy and a more tardy understanding than Shakspeare's: he would have leaped over many of the intervening steps, and, reaching at once the most remote particular of the series, would have immediately turned away to weave some new chain of thought:--

[Sidenote: All workt out thro' every step.]

_Arcite._ ... What worthy bless|ing
Can be, but our imaginatiöns
May make it ours? and here, being thus togeth|er,
We are an endless mine to one anoth|er:
We are one another's wife, ever beget|ting
New births of love; we are fathers, friends, acquaint|ance;
We are, in one another, families;
I am your heir and you are mine; this place
Is our inheritance; no hard oppress|or
Dare take this from us....

But the contentment of the prison is to be interrupted. The fair Emilia appears beneath, walking in the garden "full of branches green," skirting the wall of the tower in which the princes are confined. She converses with her attendant, and Palamon from the dungeon-grating beholds her as she gathers the flowers of spring. He ceases to reply to Arcite, and stands absorbed in silent ecstasy.

_Arcite._ Cousin! How do you, sir? Why, Palamon!

_Palamon._ Never till now I was in prison, Ar|cite.

_Arcite._ Why, what's the matter, man?

_Palamon._ Behold and won|der:
By heaven, she is a goddess;

_Arcite._ Ha!

_Palamon._ Do rev|erence;
She is a goddess, Arcite!

The beauty of the maiden impresses Arcite no less violently than it previously had his kinsman; and he challenges with great heat a right to love her. [Sidenote: The sharp and spirited quarrel between the Kinsmen, not Shakspere's.] An animated and acrimonious dialogue ensues, in which Palamon reproachfully pleads his prior admiration of the lady, and insists on his cousin's obligation to become his abettor instead of his rival. It is spirited even to excess; and probably Shakspeare would have tempered, or abstained from treating so sudden and perhaps unnatural an access of anger and jealousy, and so utter an abandonment to [38:1]its vehemence, as that under which the fiery Palamon is here represented as labouring.

[Sidenote: Act II. scene i. Fletcher's.]

_Palamon._ If thou lovest her,
Or entertain'st a hope to blast my wish|es,
Thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fel|low
False as thy title to her. Friendship, blood,
And all the ties between us, I disclaim,
If thou once think upon her!

_Arcite._ Yes, I love | her!
And, if the lives of all my name lay on | it,
I must do so. I love her with my soul;
If that will lose thee, Palamon, farewell!
I say again I love, and, loving her
I am as worthy and as free a lov|er,
And have as just a title to her beau|ty,
As any Palamon, or any liv|ing
That is a man's son!

_Palamon._ Have I call'd thee friend!

. . . . .

_Palamon._ Put but thy head out of this window more,
And, as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to't!

_Arcite._ Thou dar'st not, fool: thou canst not: thou art fee|ble:
Put my head out? I'll throw my body out,
And leap the garden, when I see her next,
And pitch between her arms to anger thee.

[Sidenote: Fletcher has left out Chaucer's making the Knights 'sworn brethren.']

In transferring his story from Chaucer, the poet has here been guilty of an oversight. The old poet fixes a character of positive guilt on Arcite's prosecution of his passion, by relating a previous agreement between the two cousins, by which either, engaging in any adventure whether of love or war, had an express right to the co-operation of the other. Hence Arcite's interference with his cousin's claim becomes, with Chaucer, a direct infringement of a knightly compact; while in the drama, no deeper blame attaches to it, than as a violation of the more fragile rules imposed by the generous spirit of friendship.

In the midst of the angry conference, Arcite is called to the Duke to receive his freedom; and Palamon is placed in stricter confinement, and removed from the quarter of the tower overlooking the garden.

[Sidenote: Act II. scene ii. (Weber, sc. iii. Littledale) is Fletcher's.]

In the second scene of this act, Arcite, wandering in the [39:1]neighbourhood of Athens, soliloquizes on the decree which had banished him from the Athenian territory; and, falling in with a band of country people on their way to games in the city, conceives the notion of joining in the celebration under some poor disguise, in the hope of finding means to remain within sight of his fancifully beloved mistress. [Sidenote: Act II. scene ii. iii. (Weber, sc. iii. iv. Littledale),] Neither this scene, nor the following, in which the jailor's daughter meditates on the perfections of Palamon, and intimates an intention of assisting him to escape, have any thing in them worthy of particular notice.

[Sidenote: Act II. scene iv. (Weber, sc. v. Littledale),]

In the fourth scene, Arcite, victorious in the athletic games, is crowned by the Duke, and preferred to the service of Emilia.

[Sidenote: Act II. scene v. (Weber, sc. vi. Littledale), are all Fletcher's.]

In the last scene of the second act, the jailor's daughter announces that she has effected Palamon's deliverance from prison, and that he lies hidden in a wood near the city, the scenery of which is prettily described.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Act III. scene i. is Shakspere's.]

Nothing in the Third Act can with confidence be attributed to Shakspeare, except the first scene. This opening scene is laid in the wood where Palamon has his hiding-place. Arcite enters; and a monologue, describing his situation and feelings, is, as in Chaucer, overheard by Palamon, who starts out of the bush in which he had crouched, and shakes his fettered hands at his false kinsman. [Sidenote: Arcite's first speech has Shakspere's clear images, and familiar dress, nervous expression, &c.] A dialogue of mutual reproach ensues; and Arcite departs with a promise to return, bringing food for the outcast, and armour to fit him for maintaining, like a knight, his right to the lady's love. The commencing speech of Arcite has much of Shakspeare's clearness of imagery, and of the familiarity of dress which he often loves to bestow upon allusion; it has also great nerve of expression and calmness of tone, with at least one play on words which is quite in his manner, and one (perhaps more) of his identical phrases. The text seems faulty in one part.

[Sidenote: Act III. sc. i. is Shakspere's.]

[Sidenote: Shaksperean phrases.]

[Sidenote: Shakspere phrase.]

_Arcite._ The Duke has lost Hippolita: each took
A several laund. This is a solemn rite
They owe bloom'd May, and the Athenians pay|it
_To the heart of ceremony_. Oh, queen Emil|ia!
Fresher than May, sweeter
Than her _gold buttons_ on the boughs, or all
[40:1]The enamell'd knacks o' the mead or garden! Yea,
We challenge too the bank of any nymph,
That makes the stream seem flowers!--Thou,--oh jew|el
_O' the wood, o' the world_,--hast likewise blest a place
With thy sole presence. In thy rumina|tion
That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between,
And chop on some cold thought!--Thrice blessed chance,
To drop on such a mistress! Expecta|tion
Most guiltless of | it.| Tell me, oh lady For|tune,
(Next after Emily my sovran,) how far
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me,
Hath made me near her, and this beauteous morn,
(The primest of all the year,) presents me with
A brace of horses; two such steeds might well
Be by a pair of kings back'd, in a field
That their crowns' titles tried. Alas, alas!
Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner!...
... If
Thou knew'st my mistress breathed on me, and that
I _cared_ her language, lived in her eye, oh coz,
What passion would enclose thee!

There is great spirit, also, in what follows. Some phrases, here again, are precisely Shakspeare's; and several parts of the dialogue have much of his pointed epigrammatic style. The massive accumulation of reproaches which Palamon hurls on Arcite is, in its energy, more like him than his assistant; and the opposition of character between Palamon and his calmer kinsman, is well kept up; but the dialogue cannot be accounted one of the best in the play.

[Sidenote: Shaksperean string of epithets.]

_Palamon._ ... Oh, thou most perfid|ious
That ever gently look'd! The void'st of hon|our
That e'er bore gentle token! Falsest cous|in
That ever blood made kin! call'st thou her thine?
I'll prove it in my shackles, in these hands
Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord,
Not worth the name of villain!--Had I a sword,
And these house-clogs away!

[Sidenote: Shaksperean word-play.]

_Arcite._ _Dear cousin Pal|amon!_

_Palamon._ _Cozener Arcite!_ give me language such
As thou hast shewed me feat.

_Arcite._ Not finding in
[41:1]The circuit of my breast, any gross stuff
To form me like your _blazon_, holds me to
This gentleness of answer. 'Tis your pas|sion
That thus mistakes; the which, to you being en|emy,
Cannot to me be kind....

[Sidenote: Act III. scene ii.]

In the second scene, the only speaker is the jailor's daughter, who, having lost Palamon in the wood, begins to shew symptoms of unsettled reason. There is some pathos in several parts of her soliloquy, but little vigour in the expression, or novelty in the thoughts.

[Sidenote: Act III. scene iii.]

The third scene is an exchange of brief speeches between the two knights. Arcite brings provisions for his kinsman, and the means of removing his fetters, and departs to fetch the armour. [Sidenote: is probably Fletcher's, and not Shakspere's.] In most respects the scene is not very characteristic of either writer, but leans towards Fletcher; and one argument for him might be drawn from an interchange of sarcasms between the kinsmen, in which they retort on each other, former amorous adventures: such a dialogue is quite like Fletcher's men of gaiety; and needless degradation of his principal characters, is a fault of which Shakspeare is not guilty. You may be able, hereafter, to see more distinctly the force of this reason. The scene contains one strikingly animated burst of jealous suspicion and impatience.

_Arcite._ Pray you sit down then; and let me entreat | you,
By all the honesty and honour in | you,
No mention of this woman; 'twill disturb | us;
We shall have time enough.

_Palamon._ Well, sir, I'll pledge | you.

. . . . .

_Arcite._ Heigh-ho!

_Palamon._ For Emily, upon my life!--Fool,
Away with this strained mirth!--I say again,
That sigh was breathed for Emily. Base cous|in,
Darest thou break first?

_Arcite._ You are wide.

_Palamon._ By heaven and earth,
There's nothing in thee honest!...

[Sidenote: Act III. scenes iv. v.]

In the next two scenes, placed in the forest, the jailor's daughter has reached the height of frenzy. [Sidenote: Gerrold has no spark of humour.] She meets the country[42:1]men who had encountered Arcite, and who are now headed by the learned and high-fantastical schoolmaster Gerrold, a personage who has the pedantry of Shakspeare's Holofernes, without one solitary spark of his humour. They are preparing a dance for the presence of the duke, and the maniac is adopted into their number, to fill up a vacancy. The duke and his train appear,--the pedagogue prologuizes,--the clowns dance,--and their self-satisfied Coryphaeus apologizes and epiloguizes. [Sidenote: Act III. scene iv. v. Fletcher's.] Some of Fletcher's very phrases and forms of expression have been traced in these two scenes.

[Sidenote: Act III. scene vi.]

We have then, in the sixth and last scene of this act, the interrupted combat of the two princes. [Sidenote: Fletcher's, not Shakspere's.] The scene is a spirited and excellent one; but its tone is Fletcher's, not Shakspeare's. [Sidenote: Has not Shakspere's grasp of imagery.] The raillery and retort of the dialogue is more lightly playful than his, and less antithetical and sententious; and though there are fine images, they are not seized with the grasp which Shakspeare would have given, sometimes harsh, but always at least decided. Some of the illustrations have been quoted (page 17). The knightly courtesy with which the princes arm each other is well supported; and their dignity of greeting before they cross their swords, is fine, exceedingly fine. Nothing can be more beautifully conceived than the change which comes over the temper of the generous Palamon, when he stands on the verge of mortal battle with his enemy. [Sidenote: Fletcher's sweet versification and romantic phraseology.] His usual heat and impatience give place to the most becoming calmness. The versification is very sweet, and the romantic air of the phraseology is very much Fletcher's, especially towards the end of the following quotation.

_Palamon._ My cause and honour guard | me.

(_They bow several ways, then advance and stand._)

_Arcite._ And me my love; Is there aught else to say?

_Palamon._ This only, and no more: Thou art mine aunt's | son,
And that blood we desire to shed is mu|tual;
In me, thine; and in thee, mine. My sword
Is in my hand, and, if thou killest me,
The gods and I forgive thee! If there be
A place prepared for those that sleep in hon|our,
I wish his weary soul that falls may win | it!
Fight bravely, cous|in;| give me thy noble hand!

_Arcite._ Here, Palamon; this hand shall never more
[43:1]Come near thee with such friendship.

_Palamon._ I commend | thee.

_Arcite._ If I fall, curse me, and say I was a cow|ard;
For none but such dare die in these just tri|als.
Once more farewell, my cousin.

_Palamon._ Farewell, Ar|cite.
(_They fight._)

[Sidenote: Act III. scene vi.]

The combat is interrupted by the approach of the Duke and his court; and Palamon, refusing to give back or conceal himself, appears before Theseus, and declares his own name and situation, and the presumptuous secret of Arcite. [Sidenote: is in Fletcher's style.] The scene is good, but in the flowing style of Fletcher, not the more manly one of Shakspeare. [Sidenote: Death-penalty for the losing knight, a good addition to Chaucer.] The sentence of death, which the duke, in the first moments of his anger, pronounces on the two princes, is recalled on the petition of Hippolita and her sister, on condition that the rivals shall meantime depart, and return within a month, each accompanied by three knights, to determine in combat the possession of Emilia; and death by the block is denounced against the knights who shall be vanquished. Some of these circumstances are slight deviations from Chaucer; and the laying down of the severe penalty is well imagined, as an addition to the tragic interest, giving occasion to a very impressive scene in the last act.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Act IV. all Fletcher's.]

The Fourth Act may safely be pronounced wholly Fletcher's. [Sidenote: Wants all the leading features of Shakspere's style.] All of it, except one scene, is taken up by the episodical adventures of the jailor's daughter; and, while much of it is poetical, it wants the force and originality, and, indeed, all the prominent features of Shakspeare's manner, either of thought, illustration, or expression. There are conversations in which are described, pleasingly enough, the madness of the unfortunate girl, and the finding of her in a sylvan spot, by her former wooer; but when the maniac herself appears, the tone and subjects of the dialogue become more objectionable.

[Sidenote: Act IV. scene ii.]

In the second scene of this act, the only one which bears reference to the main business of the piece, Emilia first muses over the pictures of her two suitors, and then hears from a messenger, in presence of Theseus and his attendants, a description, (taken in [44:1]its elements from the Knightes Tale,) of the warriors who were preparing for the field along with the champion lovers. [Sidenote: Emilia's soliloquy on the pictures, not Shakspere's.] In the soliloquy of the lady, while the poetical spirit is well preserved, the alternations of feeling are given with an abruptness and a want of insight into the nicer shades of association, which resemble the extravagant stage effects of the 'King and No King,' infinitely more than the delicate yet piercing glance with which Shakspeare looks into the human breast in the 'Othello'; the language, too, is smoother and less powerful than Shakspeare's, and one or two classical allusions are a little too correct and studied for him. [Sidenote: Act IV. scene ii. Fletcher's.] One image occurs, not the clearest or most chastened, in which Fletcher closely repeats himself:--

[Sidenote: His description of Arcite, paralleld in his _Philaster_.]

What a brow,
Of what a spacious majesty, he car|ries!
Arched like the great-eyed Juno's, but far sweet|er,--
Smoother than Pelop's shoulder. Fame and Hon|our,
Methinks, from hence, as from a promontor|y
Pointed in Heaven, should clap their wings, and sing
To all the under-world, the loves and fights
Of gods and such men near them.[45:1]

[Sidenote: Act V. is Shakspere's,]

In the Fifth Act we again feel the presence of the Master of the Spell. Several passages in this portion are marked by as striking tokens of his art as anything which we read in 'Macbeth' or 'Coriolanus.' The whole act, a very long one, may be boldly attributed to him, with the exception of one episodical scene.

[Sidenote: except scene iv. (Weber: sc. ii. Littledale).]

The time has arrived for the combat. Three temples are exhibited, as in Chaucer, in which the rival Knights, and the [45:2]Lady of their Vows, respectively pay their adorations. One principal aim of their supplications is to learn the result of the coming contest; but the suspense is kept up by each of the Knights receiving a favourable response, and Emilia a doubtful one. [Sidenote: Act V. sc. ii.[45:3] (i. L.) is lower in key.] [Sidenote: Act V. sc. i. iii. (Weber: both i. Littledale) are Shakspere's all through.] Three scenes are thus occupied, the second of which is in somewhat a lower key than the other two; but even in it there is much beauty; and in the first and third the tense dignity and pointedness of the language, the gorgeousness and overflow of illustration, and the reach, the mingled familiarity and elevation of thought, are admirable, inimitable, and decisive. From these exquisite scenes there is a temptation to quote too largely.

[Sidenote: Act V. scene i.]

In the first scene, Theseus ushers the Kinsmen and their Knights into the Temple of Mars, and leaves them there. After a short and solemn greeting, the Kinsmen embrace for the last time, Palamon and his friends retire, and Arcite and his remain and offer up their devotions to the deity of the place. [Sidenote: Spirit and Language Shakspere's.] A fine seriousness of spirit breathes through the whole scene, and the language is alive with the most magnificent and delicate allusion. In Arcite's prayer the tone cannot be mistaken. [Sidenote: His reflection on Fortune and strife.] The enumeration of the god's attributes is coloured by all that energetic depth of feeling with which Shakspeare in his historical dramas so often turns aside to meditate on the changes of human fortune and the horrors of human enmity.[46:1]

. . . . .

_Theseus._ You valiant and strong-hearted enemies,
You royal germane foes, that this day come
To blow the nearness out that flames between | ye,--
Lay by your anger for an hour, and dove|-like,
Before the holy altars of your Help|ers
(The all-feard Gods) bow down your stubborn bod|ies!
Your ire is more than mortal: so your help | be!

. . . . .

[Sidenote: Shakspere phrases.]

_Arcite._ ... Hoist | we
Those sails that must these vessels port even where
The Heavenly Limiter pleases!

. . . . .

[46:2]Knights, kinsmen, lovers, yea, my sacrifi|ces!
True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
Expels the seeds of fear, and the apprehen|sion
Which still is father of it,--go with me
Before the god of our profession. There
Require of him the hearts of lions, and
_The breath of tigers, yea the fierceness too,
Yea the speed also!_ to go on I mean,
Else wish we to be snails. You know my prize
Must be draggd out of blood: Force and great Feat
Must put my garland on, where she will stick
The queen of flowers; our intercession then
Must be to him that makes the camp _a ces|tron
Brimmd with the blood of men_: give me your aid,
And bend your spirits towards him!

(_They fall prostrate before the statue._)

[Sidenote: Shakspere's own work,]

Thou mighty one! that with thy power has turn'd
Green Neptune into purple,--whose approach
Comets prewarn,--_whose havock in vast field
Unearthèd skulls proclaim_,--whose breath blows down
The teeming Ceres' foyson,--who dost pluck
_With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds_
The masoned turrets,--that both mak'st and break'st
The stony girths of cities;--me, thy pup|il,
Young'st follower of thy drum, instruct this day
With military skill, that to thy laud
I may advance my streamer, and by thee
Be styled the lord o' the day: Give me, great Mars,
Some token of thy pleasure!

(_Here there is heard clanging of armour, with a short thunder, as the
burst of a battle; whereupon they all rise and bow to the altar._)

[Sidenote: Shakspere again.]

Oh, great Corrector of enormous times!
_Shaker of o'er rank states!_ Thou grand Decid|er
Of dusty and old ti|tles;|--_that heal'st with blood
The earth when it is sick_, and cur'st the world
O' the pleurisy of people! I do take
Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name
To my design march boldly. Let us go! (_Exeunt._)

[Sidenote: Palamon's prayer in V. ii (i. L.) not equal to V. i. or iii. (i. L.), but is yet clearly Shakspere's.]

The passionate and sensitive Palamon has chosen the Queen of Love as his Patroness, and it is in her Temple that, in the [47:1]second scene, he puts up his prayers. This scene is not equal to the first or third, having the poetical features less prominently brought out, while the tone of thought is less highly pitched, and also less consistently sustained. But it is distinctly Shakspeare's. The rugged versification is his, and the force of language. [Sidenote: Even the incompetent old husband bit is his.] One unpleasing sketch of the deformity of decrepit old age, which need not be quoted, is largely impressed with his air of truth, and some personifications already noticed are also in his manner.

[Sidenote: Act V. scene ii. (Weber; i. Littledale) is Shakspere's.]

[Sidenote: A Shakspere touch.]

_Palamon._ Our stars must glister with new fire, or be
To-day extinct: our argument is love!

. . . . . (_They kneel._)

Hail, sovereign Queen of Secrets! who hast pow|er
To call the fiercest tyrant from his rage
To weep unto a girl!--that hast the might
Even with an eye-glance to choke Mars's drum,
And turn the alarm to whis|pers!|...
What gold-like pow|er
Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou
Add'st flames hotter than his: the heavenly fires
Did scorch his mortal son, thou him: The Hunt|ress
All moist and cold, some say, began to throw
Her bow away and sigh. Take to thy grace
Me thy vowd soldier,--who do bear thy yoke
As 'twere a wreath of roses, yet is heav|ier
Than lead itself, stings more than net|tles:--
I have never been foul-mouthed against thy law;
... I have been harsh
To large confessors, and have hotly askt | them
If they had mothers: _I_ had one,--a wom|an,
And women 'twere they wronged....
Brief,--I am
To those that prate and have done,--no compan|ion;
To those that boast and have not,--a defi|er;
To those that would and cannot,--a rejoi|cer!
Yea, him I do not love, that tells close offices
The foulest way, nor names concealments in
The boldest language: Such a one I am,
And vow that _lover never yet made sigh
Truer than I_....

(_Music is heard, and doves are seen to flutter: they fall upon their
faces._)

[48:1]I give thee thanks
For this fair token!...

[Sidenote: Emilia's Prayer is surely Shakspere's.]

Emilia's Prayer in the Sanctuary of the pure Diana, forming the third scene, is in some parts most nervous, and the opening is inexpressibly beautiful in language and rhythm. Several ideas and idioms are identically Shakspeare's.

[Sidenote: Act V. scene iii. (Weber; i. Littledale) Shakspere's]

_Emilia._ (_Kneeling before the altar._) Oh, sacred, shadowy, cold,
and constant Queen!
_Abandoner of revels!_ mute, contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-fanned snow!--who to thy _female knights_
Allow'st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is there order's robe!--I here, thy priest,
Am humbled 'fore thine altar. Oh, vouchsafe,
With that thy rare _green eye_,[49:1] which never yet
Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virg|in!
And,--sacred silver Mistress!--lend thine ear,
(Which ne'er heard scurril term, into whose port
Ne'er entered wanton sound,) to my petit|ion
Seasoned with holy fear!--This is my last
Of vestal office: [49:2]I'm bride-habited,
But maiden-heart|ed.| A husband I have, appoint|ed,
But do not know him; out of two I should
Chuse one, and pray for his success, but I
Am guiltless of election of mine eyes.[49:2]

. . . . .

(_A rose-tree ascends from under the altar, having one rose upon it._)

See what our general of ebbs and flows
Out from the bowels of her holy al|tar
With sacred act advances! But one rose?
If well inspired, this battle shall confound
Both these brave knights, and I a virgin flow|er
Must grow alone unplucked.

(_Here is heard a sudden twang of instruments, and the rose falls from
the tree._)

[49:3]The flower is fallen, the tree descends!--oh, mis|tress,
Thou here dischargest me: I shall be gath|ered,
I think so; but I know not thine own will;
Unclasp thy mystery!--I hope she's pleased;
Her signs were gracious. (_Exeunt._)

[Sidenote: Act V. scene iv. (Weber; ii. Littledale) is stuff.]

The fourth scene, in which the characters are the jailor's daughter, her father and lover, and a physician, is disgusting and imbecile in the extreme. It may be dismissed with a single quotation:

_Doctor._ What stuff she utters!

[Sidenote: Act V. scene v. (Weber; iii. Littledale). Its strangeness.]

The fifth scene is the Combat, the arrangement of which is unusual. Perhaps there is nothing in every respect resembling it in the circle of the English drama. Theseus and his court cross the stage as proceeding to the lists; Emilia pauses and refuses to be present; the rest depart, and she is left. She then, the prize of the struggle, the presiding influence of the day, alone occupies the stage: within, the trumpets are heard sounding the charge, and the cries of the spectators and tumult of the encounter reach her ears; one or two messengers recount to her the various changes of the field, till Arcite's victory ends the fight. The manner is admirable in which the caution, which rendered it advisable to avoid introducing the combat on the stage, is reconciled with the pomp of scenic effect and bustle. [Sidenote: Shakspere's hand is in it.] The details of the scene, with which alone we have here to do, make it clear that Shakspeare's hand was in it. The greater part, it is true, is not of the highest excellence; but the vacillations of Emilia's feelings are well and delicately given, some individual thoughts and words mark Shakspeare, there is a little of his obscure brevity, much of his thoughtfulness legitimately applied, and an instance or two of its abuse. The strong likeness to him will justify some quotations.

In the following lines Theseus is pleading with Emilia for her presence in the lists:--

[Sidenote: Shakspere.]

_Theseus._ You must be there:
This trial is as 'twere in the night, and you
The only star to shine.

[Sidenote: Shakspere.]

[50:1]_Emilia._ I am extinct.
There is but envy in that light, which shews
The one the other. Darkness, which ever was
The dam of Horror, who does stand accursed
Of many mortal millions, may even now,
By casting her black mantle over both
That neither could find other, get herself
Some part of a good name, and many a mur|der
Set off whereto she's guilty.[50:2]

. . . . .

One good description is put into the mouth of Emilia after she is left alone:--

[Sidenote: Act V. scene v. (Weber; or sc. iii. Littledale). Shakspere's hand in it.]

[Sidenote: Shakspere.]

_Emilia._ Arcite is gently visaged; yet his eye
Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weap|on
In a soft sheath: Mercy and manly Cour|age
Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon
Has a most menacing aspect: his brow
Is graved, and seems to bury what it frowns | on;
Yet sometimes 'tis not so, but alters to
The quality of his thoughts: long time his eye
Will dwell upon his object: melanchol|y
Becomes him nobly; so does Arcite's mirth:
But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth,
So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad,
And sadness mer|ry:| those darker humours that
Stick unbecomingly on oth|ers,| on him
Live in fair dwelling.

After several alternations of fortune in the fight, she again speaks thus of the two:

... [51:1]Were they metamor|phosed
Both into one--oh why? there were no wom|an
Worth so composed a man! their single share,
Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives
The prejudice of dispar|ity,| value's shortness,
To any lady breathing....

(_Cornets: a great shout, and cry_, Arcite, victory!)

[51:2]_Servant._ The cry is
Arcite and victory! Hark, Arcite, vic|tory!
The combat's consummation is proclaimed
By the wind instruments.

[Sidenote: Shakspere touch.]

[Sidenote: Shakspere reflection.]

_Emilia._ Half-sights saw
That Arcite was no babe: god's-lid! _his rich|ness_
_And costliness of spirit looked through |him_: | it could
No more be hid in him than fire in flax,
Than humble banks can go to law with wa|ters
That drift winds force to raging. I did think
Good Palamon would miscarry; yet I knew | not
Why I did think | so.| _Our Reasons are net proph|ets
When oft our Fancies are._ They're coming off:
Alas, poor Palamon!

Theseus enters with his attendants, conducting Arcite, as conqueror, and presents him to Emilia as her husband. Arcite's situation is a painful one, and is well discriminated: he utters but a single grave sentence.

_Theseus._ (_To Arcite and Emilia._) Give me your hands:
Receive you her, you him: be plighted with
A love that grows as you decay!

_Arcite._ Emily!
To buy you I have lost what's dearest to | me,
Save what is bought; and yet I purchase cheap|ly,
As I do rate your value.

. . . . .

[Sidenote: Shakspere touch.]

_Theseus._ (_To Arcite._) Wear the gar|land
With joy that you have won. For the subdued,--
Give them our present justice, _since I know
Their lives but pinch them_. Let it here be done.
The sight's not for our seeing: go we hence
Right joyful, with some sorrow!--Arm your prize:
I know you will not lose | her.| Hippolita,
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,
The which it will deliv|er.|

_Emilia._ Is this, winning?
Oh, all you heavenly powers! where is your mer|cy?
But that your wills have said it must be so,
And charge me live to comfort this unfriend|ed,
This miserable prince, that cuts away
A life more worthy from him than all wom|en,
I should and would die too.

[52:1]_Hippolita._ Infinite pity,
That four such eyes should be so fixed on one,
That two must needs be blind for't. (_Exeunt._)

[Sidenote: Act V. scene vi. (Weber; sc. iv. Littledale) is clearly Shakspere's.]

The authorship of the last scene admits of no doubt. The manner is Shakspeare's, and some parts are little inferior to his very finest passages. Palamon has been vanquished, and he and his friends are to undergo execution of the sentence to which the laws of the combat subjected them. The depth of the interest is now fixed on these unfortunate knights, and a fine spirit of resigned melancholy inspires the scene in which they pass to their deaths.[52:2]

(_Enter Palamon and his knights, pinioned; jailor, executioner, and
guard._)

_Palamon._ There's many a man alive that hath outlived
The love of the people; yea, in the self-same state
[53:1]Stands many a father with his child; some com|fort
We have by so considering. We expire,--
And not without men's pity;--to live still,
Have their good wishes. We prevent
[53:2]The loathsome misery of age, beguile
The gout and rheum, that in lag hours attend
For grey approachers. We come towards the gods
Young and unwarped, not halting under crimes
Many and stale; that sure shall please the gods
[53:3]Sooner than such, to give us nectar with | them,--
For we are more clear spir|its!|...

_2 Knight._ Let us bid farewell;
And with our patience anger tottering for|tune,
Who at her certain'st reels.

_3 Knight._ Come, who begins?

_Palamon._ Even he that led you to this banquet shall
Taste to you all....

. . . . .

Adieu, and let my life be now as short
As my leave-taking. (_Lies on the block._)

If we were in a situation to give due effect to the supernatural part of the story, the miserable end of Palamon would affect us with a mingled sense of pity and indignation. He has been promised success by the divinity whom he adored, and yet he lies vanquished with the uplifted axe glittering above his head. Both the drama and Chaucer's poem assume the existence of such feelings on our part, and hasten to remove the cause of them. [Sidenote: Chaucer's celestial agency to work out the plot.] A way is devised for reconciling the contending oracles; and the catastrophe which effects that end, is, in the old poet, anxiously prepared by celestial agency.[53:4] Arcite has got the victory in the field, as his warlike divinity had promised him; and an evil spirit is raised for the purpose of bringing about his death, that the votary of the Queen of Love may be allowed to enjoy the gentler meed which his protectress had pledged herself to bestow. These supernal intrigues are, in the play, no more than hinted at in the way of metaphor.

A cry is heard for delay of the execution; Perithous rushes in, ascends the scaffold, and, raising Palamon from the block, announces the approaching death of Arcite, with nearly the same circumstances as in the poem. While he rode townwards from the lists, on a black steed which had been the gift of Emily, he had been thrown with violence, and now lies on the brink of dissolution. [Sidenote: Description of Arcite's mishap is bad, but Shakspere's.] The speech which describes Arcite's misadven[54:1]ture has been much noticed by the critics, and by some lavishly praised. With deference, I think it decidedly bad, but undeniably the work of Shakspeare. [Sidenote: Over-labourd, involvd, hard, yet Shakspere's, with his words and thoughts.] The whole manner of it is that of some of his long and over-laboured descriptions. It is full of illustration, infelicitous but not weak; in involvement of sentence and hardness of phrase no passage in the play comes so close to him; and there are traceable in one or two instances, not only his words, but the trains of thought in which he indulges elsewhere, especially the description of the horse, which closely resembles some spirited passages in the Venus and Adonis. It is needless to quote any part of this speech.

[Sidenote: End of the _Two Noble Kinsmen_.]

The after-part of this scene, which ends the play, contains some forcible and lofty reflection, and the language is exceedingly vigorous and weighty. In Chaucer, the feelings of the dying Arcite are expressed at much length, and very touchingly; in the play, they are dispatched shortly, and the attention continued on Palamon, who had been its previous object:--

(_Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Emilia, Arcite in a chair._)

_Palamon._ Oh, miserable end of our alli|ance!
The gods are mighty!--Arcite, if thy heart,
Thy worthy, manly heart, be yet unbro|ken,
Give me thy last words. I am Palamon,
One that yet loves thee dying.

_Arcite._ Take Emil|ia,
And with her all the world's joy. Reach thy hand:
Farewell! I've told my last hour. I was false,
But never treacherous: Forgive me, cous|in!
One kiss from fair Emilia!--'Tis done:
Take her.--I die!

_Palamon._ Thy brave soul seek Elys|ium!

. . . . .

[Sidenote: Shakspere.]

_Theseus._ _His part is played; and, though it were too short,
He did it well._ Your day is lengthened, and
The blissful dew of heaven does arrose | you:
The powerful Venus well hath graced her al|tar,
And given you your love; our master Mars
Hath vouched his oracle, and to Arcite gave
The grace of the contention: So the de|ities
Have shewed due justice.--Bear this hence.

_Palamon._ Oh, cous|in!
That we should things desire, which do cost | us
[55:1]The loss of our desire! that nought could buy
Dear love, but loss of dear love!

[Sidenote: Shakspere.]

_Theseus._ ... Palamon!
Your kinsman hath confessed, the right o' the la|dy
Did lie in you: for you first saw her, and
Even then proclaimed your fancy. He restord | her
As your stolen jewel, and desired your spir|it
To send him hence forgiven! The gods my jus|tice
Take from my hand, and they themselves become
The executioners. Lead your lady off:
And call your lovers from the stage of death,
Whom I adopt my friends.--A day or two
Let us look sadly, and give grace unto
The funeral of Arcite; in whose end,
The visages of bridegrooms we'll put on,
And smile with Palamon; for whom, an hour,
But one hour since, I was as dearly sor|ry,
As glad of Arcite; and am now as glad,
As for him sorry.--Oh, you _heavenly charm|ers_!
What things you make of us! For what we lack,
We laugh; for what we have, are sorry still;
Are children in some kind.--Let us be thank|ful
For that which is, and with you leave disputes
That are above our question.--Let us go off,
And bear us like the time! (_Exeunt omnes._)

You have now before you an outline of the subject of this highly poetical drama, with specimens which may convey some notion of the manner in which the plan is executed. But detached extracts cannot furnish materials for a just decision as to the part which Shakspeare may have taken even in writing the scenes from which the quotations are given. If I addressed myself to one previously unacquainted with this drama, I should be compelled to request an attentive study of it from beginning to end. [Sidenote: Two authors wrote _The Two Noble Kinsmen_.] Such a perusal would convince the most sceptical mind that two authors were concerned in the work; it would be perceived that certain scenes are distinguished by certain prominent characters, while others present different and dissimilar features. [Sidenote: Fletcher was one.] If we are to assume that Fletcher wrote parts of the play, we must admit that many parts of it were written by another person, and we have only to inquire who that other was. [Sidenote: The other was Shakspere.] Without recurring to any external presump[56:1]tions whatever, I think there is enough in most or all of the parts which are evidently not Fletcher's, to appropriate them to the great poet whose name, in this instance, tradition has associated with his. Even in the passages which have been here selected, you cannot but have traced Shakspeare's hand frequently and unequivocally. The introductory views which I slightly suggested to your recollection, may have furnished some rules of judgment, and cleared away some obstacles from the path; and where I have failed in bringing out distinctly the real points of difference, your own acute judgment and delicate taste must have enabled you to draw instinctively those inferences which I have attempted to reach by systematic deduction.

[Sidenote: Fletcher easily distinguisht from Shakspere.]