Chapter XV: Act II: SCENE II. Line 447-569

(_Enter four or five players._)

You are welcome, masters! welcome all. I am glad to see thee
well: welcome, good friends.--O, my old friends! Why, thy face
is valanced since I saw thee last; comest thou to beard me in
Denmark?--What, my young lady and mistress! By’r lady, your
ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the
altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of
uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.--Masters, you
are all welcome. We’ll e’en to ’t like French falconers, fly at
anything we see: We’ll have a speech straight; come, give us a
taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

FIRST PLAY.

What speech, my good lord?

HAM.

I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if
it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the
million; ’twas caviare to the general; but it was--as I received
it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried on the top
of mine--an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down
with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no
sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in
the phrase that might indict the author of affection; but called
it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more
handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved; ’twas Æneas’
tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
Priam’s slaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line;
let me see, let me see:

DIDO

The rugged Pyrrhus, like th’ Hyrcanian beast,--’tis not so, it
begins with Pyrrhus:
The rugged Pyrrhus,--he whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,--
Hath now this dread and black complexion smear’d
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now is he total gules; horridly trick’d
With Blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and damned light
To their lords’ murder, roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o’er sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks.
So, proceed you.

POL.

’Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good
discretion.

FIRST PLAY.

Anon he finds him
Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command; unequal match’d
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
but with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus’ ear; for, lo! his sword
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seem’d i’ the air to stick;
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
And like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.
But, as we often see, against some storm
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
The bold wind speechless and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus’ pause,
Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops’ hammers fall
On Mars’ armour, forged for proof eterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus’ bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
In general synod take away her power;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven
As low as to the fiends!

POL.

This is too long.

HAM.

It shall to the barber’s, with your beard--Prithee, say on; he’s
for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps: say on; come to Hecuba.

FIRST PLAY.

But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen ----.

HAM.

“The mobled queen?”

POL.

That’s good; “mobled queen” is good.

FIRST PLAY.

Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
Where late the diadem stood; and for a robe,
About her lank and all o’er-teemed loins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep’d,
’Gainst Fortune’s state would treason have pronounced:
But if the gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband’s limbs,
The instant burst of clamour that she made,--
Unless things mortal move them not at all,--
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven
And passion in the gods.

POL.

Look, whether he has not turned his colour and his tears in’s eyes.
Prithee, no more.

HAM.

’Tis well; I’ll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.--Good,
my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let
them be well used, for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles
of the time; after your death you were better have a bad epitaph
than their ill report while you live.

POL.

My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

HAM.

God’s bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his desert,
and who should ’scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and
dignity; the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
Take them in.

POL.

Come, sirs.
II, 2, 468.

THE
Tragedie of Dido
_Queene of Carthage_:

Played by the Children of her
_Maiesties Chappell_.

Written by Christopher Marlowe, and
_Thomas Nash. Gent_.

Actors

_Iupiter._
_Ganimed._
_Venus_.
_Cupid._
_Iuno._
_Mercurie,er_
_Hermes._
_Æneas._
_Ascanius_.
_Dido._
_Anna._
_Achates._
_Ilioneus._
_Iarbas._
_Cloanthes._
_Sergestus._

AT LONDON,

Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodcocke_, and
are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at
the signe of the blacke Beare. +1594.+

_Æn._ My mother _Venus_ iealous of my health,
Conuaid me from their crooked acts and bands:
So I escapt the furious _Pirrhus_ wrath:
Who then ran to the pallace of the King,
And at _Ioues_ Altar finding _Priamus_,
]

The Tragedie of Dido.

About whose withered necke hung _Hecuba_,
Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both
Beating their breasts and falling on the ground,
He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once,
And with _Megeras_ eyes flared in their face,
Threatning a thousand deaths at euery glaunce.
To whom the aged King thus trembling spoke:
_Achilles_ sonne, remember what I was,
Father of fiftie sonnes, but they are slaine,
Lord of my fortune, but my fortunes turnd,
King of this Citie, but my _Troy_ is fired,
And now am neither father, Lord, nor King:
Yet who so wretched but desires to liue?
O let me liue, great _Neoptolemus_,
Not mou’d at all, but smiling at his teares,
This butcher whil’st his hands were yet held vp,
Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands.

_Dido._ O end _Æneas_, I can heare no more.

_Æn._ At which the franticke Queene leapt on his face,
And in his eyelids hanging by the nayles,
A little while prolong’d her husbands life:
At last the souldiers puld her by the heeles,
And swong her howling in the emptie ayre,
Which sent an eccho to the wounded King:
Whereat he lifted vp his bedred lims,
And would haue grappeld with _Achilles_ sonne,
Forgetting both his want of strength and hands,
Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about,
And with the wound thereof the King fell downe:
Then from the nauell to the throat at once,
He ript old _Priam_: at whose latter gaspe
_Ioues_ marble statue gan to bend the brow,
As lothing _Pirrhus_ for this wicked act:
Yet he vndaunted tooke his fathers flagge,
And dipt it in the old Kings chill cold bloud,
And then in triumph ran into the streetes,
Through which he could not passe for slaughtred men:
So leaning on his sword he stood stone still,
Viewing the fire wherewith rich _Ilion_ burnt.
By this I got my father on my backe,
This yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand
Led faire _Creusa_ my beloued wife,
When thou _Achates_ with thy sword mad’st way,
And we were round inuiron’d with the Greekes:
O there I lost my wife: and had not we
Fought manfully, I had not told this tale:
Yet manhood would not serue, of force we fled,
And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest
We sawe _Cassandra_ sprauling in the streetes,
Whom _Aiax_ rauisht in _Dianas_ Fawne,
Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent,
Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships;
But suddenly the Grecians followed vs,
And I alas, was forst to let her lye.
Then got we to our ships, and being abourd,
_Polixena_ cryed out, _Æneas_ stay,
The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in.
Moued with her voyce, I lept into the sea,
Thinking to beare her on my backe abourd:
For all our ships were launcht into the deepe,
And as I swomme, she standing on the shoare,
Was by the cruell Mirmidons surprizd,
And after by that _Pirrhus_ sacrifizde.

_Dido._ I dye with melting ruth, _Æneas_ leaue.

_Anna._ O what became of aged _Hecuba_?

_Iar._ How got _Æneas_ to the fleete againe?

_Dido._ But how scapt _Helen_, she that causde this warre?

_Æn._ _Achates_ speake, sorrow hath tired me quite.

_Acha._ What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe,
We heare they led her captiue into Greece,
As for _Æneas_ he swomme quickly backe,
And _Helena_ betraied _Düphobus_
Her Louer, after _Alexander_ dyed,
And so was reconcil’d to _Menelaus_.
]

ÆNEAS’ TALE TO DIDO.

Shakespeare, through the person of Hamlet, shows his entire sympathy and love for all things dramatic. Directly the players enter he heartily welcomes them, throws off for a time all thoughts of melancholy, and appears in his true character as a noble prince, scholar and gentleman. Evidently Hamlet had not seen these players for a long time; for what cause he had abstained from the theatre he does not state. In the interval the chief actor had grown old, and was bearded. The young lady alluded to is the boy actor who had grown at least many inches since Hamlet last saw him; in fact, by the altitude of chopine, this last object was a kind of heel attached to a shoe or boot, measuring a good height, sometimes as much as eighteen inches. The ladies of Venice were chiefly addicted to this fashion at the end of the sixteenth century, being much ridiculed for so doing, perhaps to the same extent as the ladies of our period when the hobbled skirt was introduced. The fashion of wearing a chopine did not extend as far as this country, although Walter Scott introduces the custom in his novel of the _Fortunes of Nigel_. The allusion to the lady’s voice being cracked within the ring, refers to the boy changing his voice from the boy to the young man’s stage. There was a ring on the coin of the realm within which the sovereign’s head was placed; if the crack extended from the edge beyond the ring, the coin was rendered unfit for currency.

“One speech in it I chiefly loved, ’twas Æneas’ tale to Dido.” Should we consider this play which Shakespeare so admirably criticises as an imaginary composition or one by a living author? I think, after reading Marlowe and Nash’s drama, entitled, “Dido, Queen of Carthage,” there can exist no doubt that Shakespeare was criticising this play, and he certainly moulded the piece he chose for recitation on this production. If any conclusion can be drawn from this piece of criticism, one conclusion is certain, that Shakespeare himself admired the classical drama, and if he had composed plays only for the study they would have been written more in conformity with classical methods. Having a mixed audience he was obliged to flavour his plays with savoury matter, what we should call spicy bits, for seeking the suffrage of the groundlings, and on some occasions treated these matters in no very delicate way according to our present notions. Shakespeare used the big brush, and laid it on pretty thick, proving the truth of Pope’s couplet:

“For gain, not glory, winged his wordy flight
And grew immortal in his own despite.”

Many critics have taken this speech as being ironical, or a burlesque on the old play, but there would have been no point in making Hamlet praise the piece so extravagantly. I think the critics who favour this theory may this time be dismissed with a caution, but should they offend in the same manner again they will be hardly dealt with. I regret seeing Professor Gollancz’s name in the list.

Shakespeare refers to the actors as the abstract and brief chronicles of the time. The Shakesperean canon comprises thirty-seven plays, not one of which, with the single exception of “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” deals with contemporary events, therefore, by his own confession, we owe Shakespeare little for pourtraying the chronicles of the time. Had Shakespeare strictly adhered to the laws of the drama this censure might have more force, but in all the plays, whether Roman, English of bygone centuries, or Italian, characters and scenes are laid before our admiring eyes, bearing always a substratum of pure contemporary English manners, for which we must be ever thankful.

The same might be said of all the Elizabethan dramatists with but few exceptions. Perhaps Shakespeare was looking ahead, prophesying the time when the playwright would record the events of his day, as in our own time the happenings of the hour are fully recorded, vindicating the phrase voiced by the poet as “holding the mirror up to nature”:

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaimed their malefactions.

I’ll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle.
The play’s the thing
Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.
II, 2, 617.

In hearing or reading this speech, the spectator or reader would naturally conclude that this was Hamlet’s first conception of the plot, in which he sought to prove by a mock performance of the murder the guilt or innocence of the king, yet a few minutes previously Hamlet had already conceived the idea of the play scene. Is this another sign of carelessness, or is Hamlet visualizing the effects of his scheme? Hunter, a Shakesperean commentator, would read “About ’t my brains,” that is, set about composing the lines which the players were to add to “The Murder of Gonzago,” he would also delete the word “hum.” By omitting the interjection he maintains that it makes prospective what is evidently retrospective. I contend that it does nothing of the sort, and the natural inference is, that the poet forgot that he had already invented the stratagem by which he intends catching the conscience of the king. Many instances occur in literature, whereas by means of a play representing a murder, the actual wrong-doer has confessed his crime, and been brought to justice. Such a scene is found in “A Warning to Fair Women,” a play acted by the Chamberlain’s company and printed in 1599. The play is founded on a celebrated murder case which took place in Lynn in Norfolk, in 1573.

HAM.

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers--if the rest of my
fortunes turn Turk with me--with two Provincial roses on my razed
shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

HORATIO.

Half a share.

HAM.

A whole one I.
III, 2, 286.

The difficulties of determining the precise value of a share in a theatre are manifold. The value of money in those days does not correspond in any degree to that of to-day. The purchasing power of a sovereign being from seven to ten times greater now than at the end of the sixteenth century. With the exception of corn, which in normal times was about the same price as to-day, all food was ridiculously cheap compared with our present-day prices, so that anyone with an income of, say, three to four hundred pounds a year would be regarded as a rich man. Respecting the present passage, Horatio considers half a share a fair remuneration for a deserving actor. The shares in the Globe Theatre were divided into sixteen parts; out of this number Shakespeare possessed at one time in his life two whole shares, which, it is computed, brought him in £200 a year for each share, quite a goodly income. Shakespeare seems to have parted with his shares before his death, as in his will he makes no mention of them. The technical name for the proprietors of the theatre or shareholders was house-keepers; the word has now become obsolete. I cannot find the word in the New English Dictionary, an omission which I consider almost a record.

UNIVERSITY PLAYS.

HAM.

My lord, you played once i’ the university, you say?

POL.

That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.

HAM.

And what did you enact.

POL.

I did enact Julius Cæsar.
Brutus killed me.

HAM.

It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.

An entire volume of 400 closely printed pages, gives a detailed history of plays produced at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge. The list includes both classical and early English comedies and tragedies; this interesting volume has been written in a masterly and scientific manner, and treated in a most fascinating way rarely met with in this kind of literature. Professor Boas has thoroughly exhausted the subject, and his book can be commended to all Shakesperean students. Plays were acted at both Universities in quite mediæval times, becoming a regular institution in the reign of Henry VIII. The ancient Greek dramatists were presented either in the original Greek or in Latin translations. The first comedy written in the vernacular is called “A right pithy and pleasant and merry comedy, Intitled

Gammer Gurton’s Needle
Played on stage not long ago in
Christ’s College in Cambridge
Made by Mr. S. Mr. of Arts.”

The plays produced at Oxford and Cambridge were of a private character, each college paying its own expenses for the entertainment. In later years, assuming more of a public character, and finally magnificent dramatic entertainments were given before the sovereign and courtiers. The college authorities were lavish in their expenditure according to their means, but in no way rivalled the splendour of the Court productions. Queen Elizabeth honoured Cambridge with a visit in 1564, and a great dramatic exhibition was held in her honour. The performance took place at King’s College, and a great stage was erected in the College Hall; this being found too small, another was built up in the Chapel. A chair of State was placed on the stage for the Queen. In the Rood Loft another platform was placed for Ladies and Gentlemen, and still another under the Rood Loft was placed for the officials of the Court. The scholars on this occasion were not admitted. The Queen arrived on Saturday and took up her lodgings at King’s Lodge, and on the following evening, which was Sunday, a play was given. The Chapel was lighted by torches, which were held by the Guards. The play chosen was the “Aulularia of Plautus,” being acted by the students of the different colleges.

THE
RETVRNE FROM
PERNASSVS:

Or

The Scourge of Simony.

_Publiquely acted by the Students_
in Saint Iohns Colledge in
_Cambridge._

AT LONDON

Printed by _G. Eld_, for _Iohn Wright_, and
are to bee sold at his shop at
Christchurch Gate.
1606.
]

The Shakesperean student will remember Polonius’ description of the literature of the drama. “Seneca is not too heavy or Plautus too light.” The next night another play was performed by the men of King’s College, who were responsible for the entertainment. The play represented was a tragedy, “Dido,” written by Edward Halwell, formerly a fellow of the College. The third night a play by Nicholas Udal, the author of the famous comedy, “Ralph Roister Doister,” was presented before the Queen. The play given on this occasion was a biblical one named “Ezechias,” performed by the King’s College scholars. All these plays were great successes. Another play was to have been performed the next night, but the Queen being so fatigued after visiting the colleges and hearing the deputations, sent messages of regret and excuse, much to the sorrow of the whole University.

Two years later, in 1566, the Queen visited the famous University town of Oxford, and stayed there a whole week. The stage for the nonce was erected at the west end of the Christ Church Hall, that being very convenient for the Queen, as her lodging was at the College. The Earl of Leicester, as Chancellor of Oxford University, received her in state.

The first performance was given on Sunday evening; although the Queen kept her apartment, and was not present, the play was acted before the Spanish Ambassador and the Court. On Monday evening the Queen attended; unfortunately, the performance was marred by a serious accident, caused by a wall giving way through the pressure of the crowd, and killing three persons, including one of the students. The play acted was “Palamon and Arcyte,” written in two parts, by Richard Edwards, the master of the Children of the Chapel; the second part was given on another evening. The play is founded on the Knight’s Tale in Chaucer, the same source as “The Two Noble Kinsmen,” part of which play has been attributed to Shakespeare, his name appearing on the title page in conjunction with Fletcher. I once possessed a copy of the first and only edition of the quarto, 1634, formerly belonging to Marshall, the Shakesperean editor and commentator.

A Latin play, acted on the following evening, closed the dramatic performances. A list of players who acted in these college state exhibitions is extant.

Reynolds, who was one of the actors, in after years became the greatest and bitterest opponent of the University stage plays. He states that he played the part of Hippolyta at Christ Church on the occasion of the Queen’s visit. The Queen left Oxford with many thanks to the whole University and repeated fond farewells to her dear scholars. The amount of the expenses connected with these plays totalled the goodly sum of £150, a large amount of money in those days.

THE
QVEENES
ARCADIA.

A Pastorall Trage-comedie
_presented to her Maiestie and_
her Ladies, by the Vniuersitie of
_Oxford in Christs Church_,
in August last.
1605.

AT LONDON
Printed by _G. Eld_, for _Simon Waterson_,
1606.
]

At Oxford the chief dramatic centres were Christ Church, Magdalen, St. John’s, and in a lesser degree Merton; performances were also held at Trinity, Exeter and elsewhere. At Cambridge the dramatic fare was more widely distributed, Trinity, King’s, St. John’s, Queens’, Jesus’, Christ, and Clare Hall all presenting plays on frequent occasions. In spite of the fact that the spurious quarto edition of “Hamlet,” dated 1603, states that the play was acted at the Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, no record exists of any such performance being given. Possibly the play was acted in the town at a public place of entertainment. The University authorities were dead against the professional actors, and persecuted them in a like manner as did the Lord Mayor of London and the Corporation. As early as 1575 both Universities issued proclamations that stage plays should not be exhibited at Oxford or Cambridge, or within five miles of either of those towns.

The first notice is interesting on account of the mention of the Earl of Leicester’s players, who was patron and protector of a company of professional actors.

“Paid to the actors of the Earl of Leicester to depart with their plays without further troubling the University XX shillings.” This order was issued in 1587, and if Shakespeare was a member of the company at the time, which is generally supposed, his first appearance at Oxford was by no means a happy one, as he was paid to go away. Many similar payments are recorded in each year, until the death of Elizabeth, and even afterwards, sufficient proof that the title page must not be implicitly relied upon, and we must abandon the idea that Shakespeare’s masterpiece was acted before the Master Dons and students of the University Halls. The same restrictions were observed at Cambridge, and the professional players were banned acting even at the outlying village of Chesterton. The censorship remains in the power of the Universities in our own time; the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford has prohibited the production of “Hindle Wakes,” a most powerful play, which the authorities should have encouraged instead of censored.

HENRY IV