[241] [Intention.]
[242] [By our lady.]
[243] [By my faith; and a little further on we have
_bum troth_--by my troth.]
[244] [Old copy, _do_.]
[245] [Old copy, _in_.]
[246] [Old copy, _beautie_.]
[247] [Forget. A very rare word.]
[248] [This reference to Watling Street as an early
emporium for cloth is interesting, and does not seem to
have been noticed.]
[249] [Here Preston makes Ambidexter refer to Bonner as
dead, an event which happened in 1569, and as this play
was licenced in 1569-70, it must have been written
immediately prior to its entry at Stationers’ Hall.]
THE MISFORTUNES OF ARTHUR.
_EDITION._
_Certaine Devises and shewes presented to her Majestie by the
Gentlemen of Grayes-Inne, at her Highnesse Court in Greenewich,
the twenty eighth day of Februarie in the thirtieth yeare of her
Majesties most happy Raigne. At London. Printed by Robert
Robinson. 1587. 8o.
Black-letter._
MR COLLIER’S PREFACE.
It appears that eight persons, members of the Society of Gray’s Inn,
were engaged in the production of “The Misfortunes of Arthur,” for the
entertainment of Queen Elizabeth, at Greenwich, on the 8th February
1587-8, viz., Thomas Hughes, the author of the whole body of the
tragedy; William Fulbecke, who wrote two speeches substituted on the
representation and appended to the old printed copy; Nicholas Trotte,
who furnished the introduction; Francis Flower, who penned choruses
for the first and second acts; Christopher Yelverton, Francis Bacon,
and John Lancaster, who devised the dumb-shows, then usually
accompanying such performances; and a person of the name of
Penruddock, who, assisted by Flower and Lancaster, “directed the
proceedings at court.”
Regarding Hughes and Trotte no information has survived. Fulbecke was
born in 1566; became, as we are told, an eminent writer on the law,
and in the year when this tragedy was brought out, published a work
called “Christian Ethics.” The “Maister Francis Bacon,” spoken of at
the conclusion of the piece, was, of course, no other than [the great]
Bacon; and it is a new feature in his biography, though not perhaps
very prominent nor important, that he was so nearly concerned in the
preparation of a play at court. In February 1587-8, he had just
commenced his twenty-eighth year. Christopher Yelverton, as early as
1566, had written the epilogue to Gascoigne’s “Jocasta,” and on the
present occasion was probably resorted to for his experience in such
undertakings. Regarding Flower, Lancaster, and Penruddock we have
nothing to communicate.
“The Misfortunes of Arthur” is a dramatic composition only known to
exist in the Garrick Collection.[250] Judging from internal evidence,
it seems to have been printed with unusual care under the
superintendence of the principal author. In the course of it, some
lines and words were cancelled, and those which were substituted were
pasted over the objectionable passages. In the notes we have given
both versions, and the whole is reprinted as nearly as possible in its
original shape. The mere rarity of this unique drama would not have
recommended it to our notice; but it is not likely that such a man as
Bacon would have lent his aid to the production of a piece which was
not intrinsically good, and unless we much mistake, there is a richer
and a nobler vein of poetry running through it than is to be found in
any previous work of the kind. The blank verse is generally free and
flowing, although now and then deformed by alliteration, and rendered
somewhat monotonous by the want of that variety of rhythm, which
Marlowe may be said to have introduced, and which Shakespeare scarcely
exceeded.
Most of the characters, and particularly those of Arthur and Mordred,
are drawn with distinctness and vigour: the fiery and reckless
ambition of the son is excellently contrasted with the cool
determination and natural affection of the father. As an illustration
of the former we may refer to many passages, but especially to several
in the third scene of the second act; while the character and
disposition of the latter are depicted in a masterly manner both
before and after the final battle. This catastrophe, as far as relates
to the death of Mordred, is mentioned by Dante in canto xxxii. of his
“Inferno”--
“Non quelli a cui fu rotto il petto e l’ombra.
Con esso un colpo per la man d’Artu.”
The substance of the story is to be found in the “Morte Arthur.” The
action is one, but the unities of time and place are disregarded; and
although the tragedy in many respects is conducted upon the plan of
the ancients, there are in it evident approaches to the irregularity
of our romantic drama. It forms a sort of connecting link between such
pieces of unimpassioned formality as “Ferrex and Porrex,” and
rule-rejecting historical plays, as Shakespeare found them and left
them.
THE NAMES OF THE SPEAKERS.
GORLOIS, _Duke of Cornwall’s Ghost_.
GUENEVERA, _the Queen_.
FRONIA, _a Lady of her train_.
ANGHARAD, _Sister to the Queen_.
MORDRED, _the Usurper_.
CONAN, _a faithful Councillor_.
_Nuntius of Arthur’s landing_.
_The Herald from Arthur_.
GAWIN, _King of Albany_.
GILLA, _a British Earl_.
GILLAMOR, _King of Ireland_.
CHELDRICH, _Duke of Saxony_.
_The Lord of the Picts._
ARTHUR, _King of Great Britain_.
CADOR, _Duke of Cornwall_.
HOEL, _King of Little Britain_.
_The Herald from Mordred_.
ASCHILLUS, _King of Denmark_.
_The King of Norway_.
_A number of Soldiers_.
_Nuntius of the last battle_.
GILDAS, _a nobleman of Britain_.
CHORUS.
THE INTRODUCTION.
An introduction, penned by Nicholas Trotte, Gentleman, one of the
Society of Gray’s Inn, which was pronounced in manner following:--viz.,
Three Muses came on the stage apparelled accordingly, bringing five
Gentlemen Students with them, attired in their usual garments, whom
one of the Muses presented to Her Majesty as captives. The cause
whereof she delivered by speech as followeth:--
Of conquest (gracious queen) the signs and fruits,
Achieved ’gainst such as wrongfully withheld
The service by choice wits to Muses due,
In humblest wise these captives we present.
And lest your highness might suspect the gift,
As spoil of war that justice might impeach,
Hear and discern how just our quarrel was,
Avouched (as you see) by good success.
A dame there is, whom men Astrœa term,
She that pronounceth oracles of laws,
Who to prepare fit servants for her train,
As by commission, takes up flow’ring wits,
Whom first she schooleth to forget and scorn
The noble skills of language and of arts,
The wisdom which discourse of stories teach:
The ornaments which various knowledge yields.
But poesy she hath in most disdain,
And marshals it next Folly’s scorned place.
Then, when she hath these worthy prints defac’d
Out of the minds that can endure her hand.
What doth she then supply instead of these?
Forsooth, some old reports of altered laws,
Clamours of courts, and cavils upon words,
Grounds without ground, supported by conceit,
And reasons of more subtlety than sense.
What shall I say of moot points strange, and doubts
Still argued, but never yet agreed?
And she that doth deride the poet’s law,
Because he must his words in order place,
Forgets her forms of pleading, more precise--
More bound to words than is the poet’s lore:
And for these fine conceits she fitly chose
A tongue that barbarism itself doth use.
We, noting all these wrongs, did long expect
Their hard condition would have made them wise,
To offer us their service, plac’d so ill;
But finding them addicted to their choice,
And specially desirous to present
Your Majesty with fruits of province new,
Now did resolve to double force and skill,
And found and us’d the vantage of the time,
Surpris’d their fort, and took them captives all.
So now submiss, as to their state belongs,
They gladly yield their homage long withdrawn,
And Poetry, which they did most contemn,
They glory now her favours for to wear.
My sisters laugh’d to see them take the pen,
And lose their wits all in unwonted walks:
But to your highness that delight we leave,
To see these poets new their style advance.
Such as they are, or nought or little worth,
Deign to accept, and therewith we beseech,
That novelty give price to worthless things.
_Unto this speech one of the Gentlemen answered
as followeth:_
Good ladies, unacquaint with cunning reach,
And eas’ly led to glory in your pow’r,
Hear now abash’d our late dissembled minds.
Nor now the first time, as yourselves best know,
Ye Muses sought our service to command:
Oft have ye wandered from Parnassus Hill,
And showed yourselves with sweet and tempting grace,
But yet return’d, your train increas’d with few.
This resolution doth continue still:
Unto Astrea’s name we honour bear,
Whose sound perfections we do more admire
Than all the vaunted store of Muses’ gifts,
Let this be one (which last you put in ure
In well depraving that deserveth praise)
No eloquence, disguising reason’s shape,
Nor poetry, each vain affection’s nurse,
No various history, that doth lead the mind
Abroad to ancient tales from instant use,
Nor these, nor other mo, too long to note,
Can win Astrea’s servants to remove
Their service once devote to better things.
They, with attentive minds and serious wits,
Revolve records of deep judicial acts;
They weigh with steady and indifferent hand
Each word of law, each circumstance of right:
They hold the grounds which time and use hath sooth’d,[251]
Though shallow sense conceive them as conceits--
Presumptuous sense, whose ignorance dare judge
Of things remov’d by reason from her reach.
One doubt, in moots by argument increas’d,
Clears many doubts experience doth object.
The language she first chose, and still retains,
Exhibits naked truth in aptest terms.
Our industry maintaineth unimpeach’d:
Prerogative of prince, respect to peers,
The Commons’ liberty and each man’s right;
Suppresseth mutin force and practice fraud,
Things that for worth our studious care deserve:
Yet never did we banish nor reject
Those ornaments of knowledge nor of tongues:
That slander envious ignorance did raise.
With Muses still we intercourse allow,
T’enrich our state with all their foreign freight;
But never homage nor acknowledgment,
Such as of subjects allegiance doth require.
Now hear the cause of your late conquest won.
We had discovered your intent to be
(And, sure, ye ladies are not secret all;
Speech and not silence is the Muse’s grace)
We well perceiv’d (I say) your mind to be
T’ employ such prisoners, as themselves did yield,
To serve a Queen, for whom her purest gold
Nature refin’d, that she might therein set
Both private and imperial virtues all.
Thus (Sovereign Lady of our laws and us)
Zeal may transform us into any shape.
We, which with trembling hand the pen did guide,
Never well pleas’d, all for desire to please;
For still your rare perfections did occur,
Which are admir’d of Muses and of men.
O, with how steady hand and heart assur’d,
Should we take up the warlike lance or sword,
With mind resolv’d to spend our loyal blood
Your least command with speed to execute!
O, that before our time the fleeting ship
Ne’er wandered had in watery wilderness,
That we might first that venture undertake
In strange attempt t’ approve our loyal hearts!
Be it soldiers, seamen, poets, or what else,
In service once enjoin’d, to ready minds
Our want of use should our devoir increase.
Now since instead of art we bring but zeal,
Instead of praise we humbly pardon crave.
The matter which we purpose to present,
Since straights of time our liberty controls,
In tragic notes the plagues of vice recounts.
How suits a tragedy for such a time?
Thus--for that since your sacred Majesty
In gracious hands the regal sceptre held,
All tragedies are fled from State to stage.
NICHOLAS TROTTE.
* * * * *
The misfortunes of Arthur (Uther Pendragon’s son) reduced into
tragical notes by Thomas Hughes, one of the society of Gray’s Inn,
and here set down as it passed from under his hands, and as it was
presented, excepting certain words and lines, where some of the
actors either helped their memories by brief omission, or fitted
their acting by some alteration; with a note in the end of such
speeches as were penned by others, in lieu of some of these
hereafter following.
_The Argument of the Tragedy._
At a banquet made by Uther Pendragon for the solemnising of his
conquest against the Saxons, he fell enamoured of Igerna, wife to
Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall who, perceiving the king’s passion, departed
with his wife and prepared wars at Cornwall, where also, in a
stronghold beyond him, he placed her. Then the king levied an army to
suppress him, but waxing impatient of his desire to Igerna,
transformed himself, by Merlin his cunning, into the likeness of
Gorlois, and after his acceptance with Igerna he returned to his
siege, where he slew Gorlois. Igerna was delivered of Arthur and Anne,
twins of the same birth. Uther Pendragon, fifteen years after,
pursuing the Saxons, was by them poisoned. Arthur delighted in his
sister Anne, who made him father of Mordred. Seventeen years after,
Lucius Tiberius of Rome demanded a tribute, due by conquest of Cæsar.
Arthur gathered his powers of thirteen kings besides his own, and
leaving his queen Guenevera in the tuition of Mordred, to whom
likewise he committed the kingdom in his absence, arrived at France
where, after nine years’ wars, he sent the slain body of Tiberius unto
Rome for the tribute. During this absence, Mordred grew ambitious, for
th’ effecting whereof he made love to Guenevera, who gave ear unto
him. Then by th’ assistance of Gilla, a British lord, he usurped, and
for maintenance entertained with large promises the Saxons, Irish,
Picts, and Normans. Guenevera hearing that Arthur was already embarked
for return, through despair purposing diversely, sometimes to kill her
husband, sometimes to kill herself, at last resolved to enter into
religion. Arthur at his landing was resisted on the strands of Dover,
where he put Mordred to flight. The last field was fought at Cornwall
where, after the death of one hundred and twenty thousand, saving on
either side twenty, Mordred received his death, and Arthur his deadly
wound.
_The Argument and Manner of the First Dumb-Show._
Sounding the music, there rose three furies from under the stage,
apparelled accordingly with snakes and flames about their black hair
and garments. The first with a snake in the right hand, and a cup of
wine, with a snake athwart the cup, in the left hand. The second with
a firebrand in the right hand, and a Cupid in the left. The third with
a whip in the right hand and a Pegasus in the left. While they went
masking about the stage, there came from another place three nuns,
which walked by themselves. Then after a full sight given to the
beholders, they all parted, the furies to Mordred’s house, the nuns to
the cloister. By the first fury with the snake and cup was signified
the banquet of Uther Pendragon, and afterward his death, which ensued
by the poisoned cup. The second fury, with her firebrand and Cupid,
represented Uther’s unlawful heat and love conceived at the banquet,
which never ceased in his posterity. By the third, with her whip and
Pegasus, was prefigured the cruelty and ambition which thence ensued
and continued to th’ effecting of this tragedy. By the nuns was
signified the remorse and despair of Guenevera that, wanting other
hope, took a nunnery for her refuge. After their departure, the four
which represented the Chorus took their places.
_The Argument of the First Act._
1. In the first scene the spirit of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, the man
first and most wronged in this history, being despoil’d both of
wife, dukedom, and life, craveth revenge for these injuries,
denouncing the whole misfortune ensuing.
2. In the second scene Guenevera, hearing that Arthur was on the seas
returning desperately, menaceth his death, from which intent she is
dissuaded by Fronia, a lady of her court, and privy to her secrets.
3. In the third scene Guenevera perplexedly mindeth her own death,
whence being dissuaded by her sister, she resolveth to enter into
religion.
4. In the fourth scene Mordred goeth about to persuade Guenevera to
persist in her love, but misseth thereof; and then is exhorted by
Conan (a nobleman of Britain) to reconcile himself to his father at
his coming, but refuseth so to do, and resolveth to keep him from
landing by battle.
THE MISFORTUNES OF ARTHUR.
THE FIRST ACT AND FIRST SCENE.
GORLOIS.[252]
Since thus through channels black of Limbo lake,
And deep infernal flood of Stygian pool,
The ghastly Charon’s boat transported back
Thy ghost from Pluto’s pits and glooming shade
To former light, once lost by dest’ny’s doom,
Where proud Pendragon, broil’d with shameful lust,
Despoil’d thee erst of wife, of land and life,
Now, Gorlois, work thy wish, cast here thy gall:
Glut on revenge! thy wrath abhors delays.
What though (besides Pendragon’s poisoned end)
The vile reproach he wrought thee by thy pheer,[253]
Through deep increase of crimes alike is plagu’d;
And that the shame thou sufered’st for his lusts,
Reboundeth back and stifleth in his stock,
Yet is not mischief’s measure all fulfill’d,
Nor wreak sufficient wrought. Thy murdered corpse
And dukedom reft for heavier vengeance cries.
Come, therefore, blooms of settled mischief’s root:
Come, each thing else what fury can invent,
Wreak all at once! infect the air with plagues,
Till bad to worse, till worse to worse be turn’d!
Let mischiefs know no mean, nor plagues an end!
Let th’ offspring’s sin exceed the former stock!
Let none have time to hate his former fault,
But still with fresh supply let punish’d crime
Increase, till time it make a complete sin!
Go to: some fact, which no age shall allow
Nor yet conceal--some fact must needs be dur’d,
That for the horror great and outrage fell
Thereof may well beseem Pendragon’s brood.
And first, while Arthur’s navies homeward float,
Triumphantly bedeck’d with Roman spoils,
Let Guenevera express what frantic moods
Distract a wife, when wronging wedlock’s rights,
Both fond and fell, she loves and loathes at once.
Let deep despair pursue till, loathing life,
Her hateful head in cowl and cloister lurk.
Let traitorous Mordred keep his sire from shore;
Let Britain rest a prey for foreign powers;
Let sword and fire, still fed with mutual strife,
Turn all the kings to ghosts: let civil wars
And discord swell, till all the realm be torn!
Even in that soil whereof myself was Duke,
Where first my spouse Igerna brake her vow,
Where this ungracious offspring was begot:
In Cornwall--there let Mordred’s death declare,
Let Arthur’s fatal wound bewray, the wrong,
The murder vile, the rape of wife and weal,
Wherewith their sire incens’d both Gods and man.
Thus, thus Pendragon’s seed, so sown and reap’d,
Thus cursed imps, ill-born and worse consum’d,
Shall render just revenge for parents’ crimes,
And penance do, t’ assuage my swelling wrath.
The whiles, O Cassiopœa, gem-bright sign,
Most sacred sight and sweet celestial star,
This climate’s joy, plac’d in imperial throne,
With fragrant olive-branch portending peace;
And whosoe’er besides, ye heavenly powers,
(Her stately train with influence divine,
And mild aspect all prone to Britain’s good)
Foresee what present plagues do threat this isle,
Prevent not this my wreak. For you there rests
A happier age, a thousand years to come;
An age for peace, religion, wealth, and ease,
When all the world shall wonder at your bliss:
That, that is yours! Leave this to Gorlois’ ghost.
And see where comes one engine of my hate,
With moods and manners fit for my revenge.
[_Exit_.
THE SECOND SCENE.
GUENEVERA, FRONIA.
GUENEVERA. And dares he after nine years’ space return,
And see her face, whom he so long disdain’d?
Was I then chose and wedded for his stale,
To look and gape for his retireless sails,
Puff’d back and flittering spread to every wind?
O wrong, content with no revenge, seek out
Undared plagues: teach Mordred how to rage:
Attempt some bloody, dreadful, irksome fact,
And such as Mordred would were rather his.
Why stayest? It must he done! let bridle go:
Frame out some trap beyond all vulgar guile,
Beyond Medea’s wiles: attempt some fact,
That any wight unwieldy[254] of herself,
That any spouse unfaithful to her pheer,
Durst e’er attempt in most despair of weal.
Spare no revenge, b’ it poison, knife, or fire!
FRONIA. Good madam, temper these outrageous moods,
And let not will usurp, where wit should rule.
GUENEVERA. The wrath that breatheth blood doth loathe to lurk:
What reason most withholds, rage wrings perforce.
I am disdain’d: so will I not be long.
That very hour that he shall first arrive,
Shall be the last that shall afford him life.
Though neither seas, nor lands, nor wars abroad
Sufficed for thy foil, yet shalt thou find
Far worse at home--thy deep-displeased spouse.
Whate’er thou hast subdu’d in all thy stay
This hand shall now subdue; then stay thy fill.
What’s this? my mind recoils and irks these threats:
Anger delays, my grief gins to assuage,
My fury faints, and sacred wedlock’s faith
Presents itself. Why shunn’st thou fearful wrath?
Add coals afresh: preserve me to this venge,
At least exile thyself to realms unknown,
And steal his wealth to help thy banish’d state;
For flight is best. O base and heartless fear!
Theft? Exile? Flight? all these may fortune send
Unsought; but thee beseems more high revenge.
Come, spiteful fiends, come, heaps of furies fell,
Not one by one, but all at once! my breast
Raves not enough: it likes me to be fill’d
With greater monsters yet. My heart doth throb,
My liver boils: somewhat my mind portends,
Uncertain what; but whatsoever, it’s huge.
So it exceed, be what it will, it’s well.
Omit no plague, and none will be enough:
Wrong cannot be reveng’d but by excess.
FRONIA. O, spare this heat! you yield too much to rage:
Y’ are too unjust. Is there no mean in wrong?
GUENEVERA. Wrong claims a mean, when first you offer wrong:
The mean is vain when wrong is in revenge.
Great harms cannot be hid: the grief is small,
That can receive advice, or rule itself.
FRONIA. Hatred conceal’d doth often hap to hurt,
But once profess’d, it oft’ner fails revenge.
How better tho’ wert to repress your ire:
A lady’s best revenge is to forgive.
What mean is in your hate? how much soe’er
You can invent or dare, so much you hate.
GUENEVERA. And would you know what mean there is in hate?
Call love to mind, and see what mean is there!
My love, redoubled love, and constant faith
Engaged unto Mordred works so deep,
That both my heart and marrow quite be burnt,
And sinews dried with force of wontless flames.
Desire to joy him still torments my mind:
Fear of his want doth add a double grief.
Lo, here the love that stirs this meanless hate!
FRONIA. Eschew it far: such love impugns the laws.
GUENEVERA. Unlawful love doth like, when lawful loathes.
FRONIA. And is your love of husband quite extinct?
GUENEVERA. The greater flame must needs delay the less:
Besides, his sore revenge I greatly fear.
FRONIA. How can you then attempt a fresh offence?
GUENEVERA. Who can appoint a stint to her offence?
FRONIA. But here the greatness of the fact should move.
GUENEVERA. The greater it, the fitter for my grief.
FRONIA. To kill your spouse?
GUENEVERA. A stranger and a foe.
FRONIA. Your liege and king.
GUENEVERA. He wants both realm and crown.
FRONIA. Nature affords not to your sex such strength.
GUENEVERA. Love, anguish, wrath, will soon afford enough.
FRONIA. What rage is this?
GUENEVERA. Such as himself shall rue.
FRONIA. Whom Gods do press enough, will you annoy?
GUENEVERA. Whom Gods do press, they bend; whom man annoys,
He breaks.
FRONIA. Your grief is more than his deserts.
Each fault requires an equal hate: be not severe,
Where crimes be light. As you have felt, so grieve.
GUENEVERA. And seems it light to want him nine year space
Then to be spoil’d of one I hold more dear?
Think all too much, b’it ne’er so just, that feeds
Continual grief: the lasting woe is worst.