His legs bestrid the ocean; his reared a_A history of English literature

Crested the world; his voice was propertied

As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;

But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,

He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,

There was no winter in’t, an autumn ’twas

That grew the more by reaping; his delights

Were dolphin-like, they showed his back above

The element they lived in; in his livery

Walked crowns and crownets, realms and islands were

As plates dropped from his pocket.

_Antony and Cleopatra_

With such a style as this Shakespeare can compass the world of human

emotion, and he does so.

=6. Summary.= “He was the man,” said Dryden, “who of all modern, and

perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul.”

POST-SHAKESPEARIAN DRAMA

In the following section it will be found that, although much of the

work was composed during Shakespeare’s lifetime, the most typical of

the plays appeared after his death. On the whole, moreover, the work

marks a decline from the Shakespearian standard, and so we are probably

justified in calling this type of drama post-Shakespearian.

=1. Ben Jonson (1573–1637)= was born at Westminster, and educated

at Westminster School. His father died before Jonson’s birth, and the

boy adopted the trade of his stepfather, who was a master bricklayer.

Bricklaying did not satisfy him for long, and he became a soldier,

serving in the Low Countries. From this he turned to acting and writing

plays, engaging himself, both as actor and playwright, with the Lord

Admiral’s company (1597). At first he had little success, and the

discouragement he encountered then must have done much to sour a temper

that was not at any time very genial. In his combative fashion he took

part freely in the squabbles of the time, and in 1598 he killed a

fellow-actor in a duel, narrowly escaping the gallows. On the accession

of James I in 1603 there arose a new fashion for picturesque pageants

known as masques, and Jonson turned his energies to supplying this

demand, with great success. After this period (160315) he commanded

great good-fortune, and during this time his best work was produced. In

1617 he was created poet to the King, and the close of James’s reign

saw Jonson the undisputed ruler of English literature. His favorite

haunt was the Mermaid Tavern, where he reigned as dictator over a

younger literary generation. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, and

over him was placed the epitaph “O rare Ben Jonson!”

Jonson’s works, extremely voluminous and of varying merit, can be

classified for convenience into comedies, tragedies, masques, and

lyrics. His one considerable prose work, a kind of commonplace book, to

which he gave the curious name of _Timber_, is of much interest, but

does not affect his general position.

He began with the comedy _Every Man in his Humour_, which was written

in 1598; then followed _Every Man out of His Humour_ (1599), _Cynthia’s

Revels_ (1600), and _The Poetaster_ (1601). These earliest comedies

are rather tedious in their characters, for they emphasize unduly

the “humor” or peculiar characteristic of each individual. They are,

however, ingenious in plot, rich in rugged and not entirely displeasing

fun, and full of vivacity and high spirits. The later group of comedies

shows a decided advance. The characters are less angular, livelier,

and much more convincing; the style is more matured and equable. Such

comedies, perhaps the best of all Jonson’s dramatic work, are _Volpone,

or The Fox_ (1605), _Epicene, or The Silent Woman_ (1609), and _The

Alchemist_ (1610). His last comedies are lighter and more farcical, and

show less care and forethought. They include _Bartholomew Fair_ (1614),

_The Devil Is an Ass_ (1616), and _The Staple of News_ (1625). His last

unfinished play, _The Sad Shepherd_, a pastoral comedy, is unapproached

among his dramas for its combination of sober reflection, lightness

of fancy, and delicacy of touch. In nearly all his comedies Jonson

opened up a vein that was nearly new and was to be very freely worked

by his successors--the comedy of London life and humors, reflecting the

manners of the day.

His two historical tragedies, _Sejanus his Fall_ (1603) and _Catiline

his Conspiracy_ (1611), are too labored and mechanical to be reckoned

as great tragedies, though their author would fain have had them so.

They show immense learning, they have power, variety, and insight, but

they lack the last creative touch necessary to stamp them with reality,

and to give them a living appeal.

As for his masques, they are abundant, graceful, and humorously

ingenious. Into them Jonson introduced the device of the anti-masque,

which parodied the principal theme. The best of them are _The Masque of

Beauty_ (1608), _The Masque of Queens_ (1609), and _Oberon, the Fairy

Prince_ (1611).

The lyrics, which are freely introduced into his plays, and the

elegies, epitaphs, and other occasional pieces, many of which appeared

in a volume called _Underwoods_ (“consisting of divers poems”),

represent Jonson’s work in its sweetest and most graceful phase. His

song, a translation from Philostratus, beginning “Drink to me only with

thine eyes,” is deservedly famous. We cannot resist quoting two brief

but typical pieces:

(1) Have you seen but a bright lillie grow,

Before rude hands have touch’d it?

Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow

Before the soyle hath smutch’d it?

Have you felt the wooll of the bever?

Or swan’s downe ever?

Or have smelt of the bud of the brier?

Or the nard on the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!

_The Triumph_

(2) Underneath this sable hearse

Lies the subject of all verse,

Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother:

Death, ere thou hast slain another,

Learned, and fair, and good as she,

Time shall throw a dart at thee!

_Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke_[99]

In the estimation of his own age Jonson stood second to none; to

a later generation he is overshadowed by the towering bulk of

Shakespeare. But even the enormous prestige of Shakespeare cannot or

ought not to belittle the merits of Jonson. Of Jonson we can justly

say that he had all good literary gifts except one, and that the

highest and most baffling of all--true genius. He had learning--perhaps

too much of it; industry and constancy well beyond the ordinary;

versatility; a crabbed and not unamiable humor, diversified with

sweetness, grace, and nimbleness of wit; and a style quite adequate to

his needs. But the summit of it all--the magical phrase that catches

the breath, the immortal spirit that creates out of words and buckram

“forms more real than living man”--these were lacking; and without

these he cannot join the circle of the very great.

=2. Francis Beaumont (1584–1616)= and =John Fletcher (1575–1625)=

combined to produce a great number of plays, said to be fifty-two in

all. How much of the joint work is to be assigned to the respective

hands is not accurately known.

The elder, Fletcher, was a cousin of Giles and Phineas Fletcher (see

(p. 101), and was born at Rye, Sussex. He was educated at Cambridge,

and lived the life of a London literary man. He died of the plague

in 1625. His colleague Beaumont, who was probably the abler of the

two, was the son of a judge, Sir Francis Beaumont, was educated at

Oxford, and entered the Inner Temple (1600), but was captivated by

the attractions of a literary life. He died almost within a month of

Shakespeare, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

They excelled in comedy, especially in the comedy of London life.

Theirs is not the heavy “humorous” comedy of Jonson, but is lighter

and more romantic. Their characters are slighter, but more pleasing

and human; their humor is free and genial, and their representation of

contemporary life is happy and attractive. Their plots are ingenious

and workmanlike, and their incidents numerous and striking. Their

style shows a distinct decline from the high standard of Shakespeare.

They have a greater fondness for prose, their blank verse is looser and

weaker, but they are capable of poetical lines and phrases. Typical

comedies are _A King and No King_ (1611), esteemed by Dryden the

best of them all, _The Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (1611), a very

agreeable farce, and _The Scornful Lady_ (1616). Their tragedies, such

as _The Maid’s Tragedy_ (1619), _Philaster_ (1620), suggesting _Twelfth

Night_, and _The Faithful Shepherdess_ (by Fletcher alone), are not

too tragical, and they are diversified by attractive incidents and

descriptions.

=3. George Chapman (1559–1634)= was born at Hitchin. Beyond this

fact little is known of him. He took part in the literary life of his

time, for his name appears in the squabbles of his tribe. He died in

London.

His first play, _The Blind Beggar of Alexandria_ (1596) was followed by

many more, both comical and tragical. Among them are _Bussy d’Ambois_

(1597), _Charles, Duke of Byron_ (1608), and _The Tragedie of Chabot_

(1639). These are historical plays, dealing with events nearly

contemporary with his own time. Chapman’s comedies include _All Fools_

(1605) and _Eastward Hoe!_ (1605), in the latter of which he combined

with Jonson and Marston. Chapman writes agreeably and well; he has

firmness, competence, and variety, and his comic and tragic powers are

considerable. His translation of _Homer_ has something of the pace and

music of the original.

=4. John Marston (1575–1634)= was born at Coventry, was educated

there and at Oxford, became a literary figure in London, and later

took orders. Latterly he resigned his living in Hampshire, and died in

London.

Marston specialized in violent and melodramatic tragedies, which do not

lack a certain impressiveness, but which are easily parodied and no

less easily lead to abuse. They impressed his own generation, who rated

him with Jonson. For a later age they are spoiled to a great extent

by exaggeration, rant, and excessive speeches. Typical of them are

_Antonio and Mellida_ (1602) and _Antonio’s Revenge_ (1602), which were

ridiculed by Jonson in _The Poetaster_.

=5. Thomas Dekker (1570–1641)= was born in London, where his life was

passed as a literary hack and playwright. His plays, chiefly comedies,

have an attraction quite unusual for the time. They have a sweetness,

an arch sentimentality, and an intimate knowledge of common men and

things that have led to his being called the Dickens of the Elizabethan

stage. His plots are chaotic, and his blank verse, which very

frequently gives place to prose, is weak and sprawling. The best of his

plays are _Old Fortunatus_ (1600), _The Shoemaker’s Holiday_ (1600),

and _Satiromastix_ (1602). He collaborated with other playwrights,

including Ford and Rowley, with whom he wrote _The Witch of Edmonton_

(about 1633), and Massinger, in _The Virgin Martyr_ (1622).

=6. Thomas Middleton (1570–1627)= was born in London, wrote much for

the stage, and in 1620 was made City Chronologer.

He is one of the most equable and literary of the dramatists of the

age; he has a decided fanciful turn; he is a close observer and critic

of the life of the time, and a dramatist who on a few occasions can

rise to the heights of greatness. His most powerful play, which has

been much praised by Lamb and others, is _The Changeling_ (1624);

others are _Women beware Women_ (1622), _The Witch_, which bears a

strong resemblance to _Macbeth_, and _The Spanish Gipsy_ (1623), a

romantic comedy suggesting _As You Like It_. Along with Dekker he wrote

_The Roaring Girle, or Moll Cutpurse_ (1611), which is a close dramatic

parallel to the earliest novels.

=7. Thomas Heywood (1575–1650)= was born in Lincolnshire about 1575,

was educated at Cambridge, and became an author and dramatist in

London. He himself asserts that he had a hand (“or at least a main

finger”) in two hundred and twenty plays, of which twenty-three survive.

Like so many more dramatists of the time, he excelled in his pictures

of London life and manners. He was a rapid and light improviser,

an expert contriver of stage situations, but otherwise content with

passable results, and caring little about the higher flights of the

dramatist. His best play is _A Woman Killed with Kindnesse_ (1603),

which contains some strongly pathetic scenes; _The English Traveller_

(1633) is only slightly inferior. Other plays of his are _The Royall

King_ (1600), _The Captives_ (1624), and a series of clumsy historical

dramas, including _King Edward the Fourth_ (1600) and _The Troubles of

Queene Elizabeth_ (1605).

=8. John Webster=, who flourished during the first twenty years of the

seventeenth century, excels his fellows as a tragical artist. Next to

nothing is known regarding his life, and much of his work has been

lost, but what remains is sufficient to show that he was a writer of no

mean ability. Selecting themes of gloomy and supernatural horror, of

great crimes and turbulent emotions and desires, he rises to the height

of his argument with an ability equal to his ambition. In several

respects--in bleak horror and in largeness of tragical conception--he

resembles Marlowe; but he is terse and precise when Marlowe is simply

turgid; his plots have the inexorable march of Fate itself; and he

far excels Marlowe in brief and almost blinding flashes of sorrow and

pity. His two great plays are _The White Devil_ (1612) and _The Duchess

of Malfy_ (1623). Other and inferior plays ascribed to him are _The

Devil’s Law Case_ (1623) and _Appius and Virginia_.

=9. Cyril Tourneur= (1575–1626) seems to have been a soldier and

to have served in the Low Countries. He took part in Buckingham’s

disastrous expedition to Cadiz, and on his return died in Ireland.

In the work of Tourneur we have horrors piled on horrors. His two plays

_The Revenger’s Tragedy_ (1600) and _The Atheist’s Tragedy_ (1611) are

melodramatic to the highest degree. He attempts much, but achieves

little. He does not lack a certain poetic sensibility; but he lacks

grip, method, and balance, and he is weakest where Webster is strongest.

THE ENGLISH BIBLE: THE AUTHORIZED VERSION

In the last chapter we indicated the growth of the Bible from the

earliest to Reformation times. The task of translation was completed by

the issue of _King James’s Bible_, or the _Authorized Version_ (1611).

The need for a standard text was urged during the conference between

the dissentient sects held at Hampton Court in 1604. James I, who was

present at some stages of the conference, approved of the project.

Forty-seven scholars, including the ablest professorial and episcopal

talent, were appointed for the task; they were divided into six

companies, each receiving a certain portion of the Biblical text for

translation; each company revised the work of its fellow-translators.

The task, begun in 1607, was completed in 1611. Since that date little

of sufficient authority has been done to shake the Authorized Version’s

dominating position as the greatest of English translations.

It may be of use here to set down some of the more obvious features of

this great work.

=1.= With regard to the actual work of =translation=, it ought to be

regarded simply as the climax of a long series of earlier translations.

The new translators came to handle a large mass of work already in

existence. All the debatable ground in the texts had been fought

over again and again, and in a dim fashion a standard was emerging.

The translators themselves acknowledge this in the preface to their

work: their task, they say, is “to make a good one better, or out of

many good ones one principal good one.” In other words, their task

was largely one of selection and amendment. The reliance upon earlier

work resulted in a certain old-fashioned flavor that was felt even in

Jacobean times. “It is not the English,” says Hallam, “of Daniel or

Ralegh or Bacon.... It abounds, especially in the Old Testament, in

obsolete phraseology.” It is a tribute to the compelling power and

beauty of the Authorized Version that its archaisms have long been

accepted as permissible, and even inevitable. Allowing, however, for

all the reliance upon earlier work, one cannot overpraise the sound

judgment, the artistic taste, and the sensitive ear of every member of

the band who built up such a stately monument to our tongue.

=2. Diversity of the Work.= One can best appreciate the vastness

and complexity of the Bible by recollecting that it is not a single

book, but an entire literature, or even two literatures, for both

in time and temper the New Testament is separated from the Old.

The different books of the Bible were composed at widely different

times, and many hands worked at them. Their efforts resulted in a

huge collection of all the main species of literature--expository,

narrative, and lyrical. These will be noticed in their order below.

=3. Unity of the Work.= If the Bible were a collection of discordant

elements it would not possess its peculiar literary attraction. In

spite of the diversity of its sources it has a remarkable uniformity

of treatment and spirit. The core and substance of the entire work

is the belief and delight in the Divine Spirit; and, added to this,

especially in the Old Testament, a fiery faith in the pre-eminence of

the Jewish race. With regard to the literary style, from cover to cover

it is almost unvaried: firm, clear, simple, dignified, and thoroughly

English. It represents the broad and stable average of the labors of

generations of devout and ardent men; and it endureth unshaken.

=4. The Expository Portions.= Considered from the purely literary

point of view, the expository parts (that is, those that contain

exhortation, information, or advice) are of least importance. In

bulk they are considerable, and include the Book of Deuteronomy in

the Old Testament and the Pauline Epistles in the New. They have all

the distinction of the Biblical style, and they are expressed with

clearness, dignity, and precision.

=5.= The =narrative portions= include the bulk of the Bible, and

are of great literary interest and value. In the Old Testament they

comprise the Pentateuch and many other books, and in the New Testament

they include the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. The tone of

the Old Testament differs somewhat from that of the New. As can be

supposed, the former is often harsher in note, and is sometimes

confused and contradictory (from the unsatisfactory condition of some

of the texts); the New Testament narrative, which came under the

influence of the Greek, is more scholarly and liberal in tone. Both,

however, have a breadth, solidity, and noble austerity of style that

make the Biblical narrative stand alone. It is perhaps unnecessary to

quote, but one short specimen may not be out of place:

Then took they him, and led him, and brought him into the high

priest’s house. And Peter followed afar off.

And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and

were set down together, Peter sat down among them.

But a certain maid beheld him as he sat by the fire, and

earnestly looked upon him, and said, This man was also with him.

And he denied him, saying, Woman, I know him not.

And, after a little while, another saw him, and said, Thou art

also of them. And Peter said, Man, I am not.

And about the space of one hour after, another confidently

affirmed, saying, Of a truth this fellow also was with him; for

he is a Galilean.

And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. And

immediately, when he yet spake, the cock crew.

And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered

the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock

crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.

And Peter went out, and wept bitterly.

_St. Luke_

=6. The Lyrical Portions.= These (which include the Psalms, the

Song of Solomon, much of the Book of Job, and the frequent passages,

such as the song of Sisera, which occur in the narrative books) are

perhaps the most important as literature. In addition to their native

shrewdness and persistence, the Jews had a strongly emotional strain,

which finds wide expression in the Bible. Their poetry, like that

of the Old English, was rhythmic; it went by irregularly distributed

beats or accents. The English translators to a large extent preserved

the Jewish rhythms, adding to them the music, the cadence, the soar

and the swing of ecstatic English prose. In theme Jewish poetry is

the primitive expression of simple people regarding the relations of

man and God and the universe. Its similes and metaphors are based

upon simple elemental things--the heavens, the running water, and

the congregations of wild beasts. The emotions are mystically and

rapturously expressed, and convey the impression of much earnestness.

The following extract is fairly typical of its kind:

As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul

after thee, O God.

My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come

and appear before God?

My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually

say unto me, Where is thy God?

When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I

had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of

God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that

kept holyday.

Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted

in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help

of his countenance.

_The Book of Psalms_

=7. The Influence of the Bible.= The English Bible has been a potent

influence in our literature. Owing largely to their poetical or

proverbial nature, multitudes of Biblical expressions have become woven

into the very tissue of the tongue: “a broken reed,” “the eleventh

hour,” “a thorn in the flesh,” “a good Samaritan,” “sweat of the brow,”

and so on. More important, probably, is the way in which the style

affects that of many of our greatest writers. The influence is nearly

all for the good; for a slight strain of the Biblical manner, when kept

artistically within bounds, imparts simplicity, dignity, and elevation.

Bunyan shows the style almost undiluted; but in the works of such

widely diverse writers as Ruskin, Macaulay, Milton, and Tennyson the

effects, though slighter, are quite apparent.

FRANCIS BACON, BARON VERULAM, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS (1561–1626)

=1. His Life.= Bacon was born in London, the son of Sir Nicholas

Bacon, the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. The family was connected

with the Cecils and other political magnates of the time. Bacon was

a delicate youth, and for a time he was educated privately; then he

proceeded to Cambridge, and thence entered Gray’s Inn (1576). To

complete his education he spent three years in France. On his being

called to the Bar his family influence helped him to acquire a fair

practice; but Bacon was ambitious and longed for the highest rewards

that his profession could bestow. He became a member of Parliament

in 1584, but the recognition that he expected from the Queen did

not come his way, hard though he fought for it. He assisted in the

prosecution of the Earl of Essex, a nobleman who had befriended

him earlier in his career. Essex, an injudicious man, had involved

himself in a charge of treason, and the ingenuity of Bacon was largely

instrumental in bringing him to the block. On the accession of James

I Bacon, who was never remiss in urging his own claims to preferment,

began to experience prosperity, for he was tireless in urging the

royal claims before Parliament. He was made a knight in 1603, and

Attorney-General in 1613. In the latter capacity he was James’s chief

agent in asserting and enforcing the King’s theories of divine right,

and he became thoroughly unpopular with the House of Commons. His

reward came in 1618, when he was appointed Lord Chancellor and created

Baron Verulam, and in 1621, when he became Viscount St. Albans. Popular

dissatisfaction was mounting against the King and his agents, and when

Parliament met in 1620 it laid charges of bribery and corrupt dealings

against the Lord Chancellor. Bacon quailed before the storm; made what

amounted to a confession of guilt; and was subjected to the huge fine

of £40,000 (which was partially remitted), imprisonment during the

King’s pleasure (which was restricted to four days in the Tower of

London), and exile from Court and office. He spent the last five years

of his life in the pursuit of literary and scientific works.

=2. His Works.= Bacon wrote both in Latin and English, and of the

two he considered the Latin works to be the more important.

(_a_) His English works include his _Essays_, which first appeared

in 1597. Then they numbered ten; but the second (1612) and third

(1625) editions raised the number to thirty-eight and fifty-eight

respectively. They are on familiar subjects, such as Learning,

Studies, Vainglory, and Great Place; and in method they represent

the half-casual meditations of a trained and learned mind. His other

English works were _The Advancement of Learning_ (1605), containing the

substance of his philosophy; _Apophthegms_ (1625), a kind of jest-book;

and _The New Atlantis_, left unfinished at his death, a philosophical

romance modeled upon More’s _Utopia_.

(_b_) His Latin works were to be fashioned into a vast scheme, which he

called _Instauratio Magna_, expounding his philosophical theories. It

was laid out on the following plan, but it was scarcely half finished:

(1) _De Augmentis Scientiarum_ (1623). This treatise, in which

the English work on the _Advancement of Learning_ is embodied,

gives a general summary of human knowledge, taking special

notice of gaps and imperfections in science.

(2) _Novum Organum_ (1620). This work explains the new logic,

or inductive method of reasoning, upon which his philosophy is

founded. Out of the nine sections into which he divides the

subject the first only is handled with any fullness, the other

eight being merely named.

(3) _Sylva Sylvarum_ (left incomplete). This part was designed

to give a complete view of what we call Natural Philosophy and

Natural History. The subjects he has touched on under this head

are four--the History of Winds, Life and Death, Density and

Rarity, Sound and Hearing.

(4) _Scala Intellectus._ Of this we have only a few of the

opening pages.

(5) _Prodromi._ A few fragments only were written.

(6) _Philosophia Secunda._ Never executed.

=3. His Style.= Of Bacon as a philosopher we can only say that he is

one of the founders of modern systematic thought. His most important

literary work is his _Essays_. In its three versions this work shows

the development of Bacon’s English style. In the first edition the

style is crisp, detached, and epigrammatic, conveying the impression

that each essay has arisen from some happy thought or phrase, around

which other pithy statements are agglomerated. In the later editions

the ideas are expanded, the expression loses its spiky pointedness,

and in the end we have an approach to a freer middle style, an

approximation to the swinging manner of Dryden. Bacon had no ear

for rhythm and melody; a born rhetorician, he preferred the sharper

devices of antithesis and epigram; and he was always clear, orderly,

and swiftly precise in his phrasing. Following the fashion of the

time, he was free in his use of allusions, conceits, and Latin tags,

creating rather a garish ornamental effect; but his style is saved from

triviality by his breadth of intellect, by his luminous intensity of

ideas, and by his cool man-of-the-world sagacity.

For the sake of comparison we quote the same extract from the first and

third editions of the _Essays_. The second extract, it will be

noticed, is a studied expansion of the first.

(1) Crafty men contemn them, simple men admire them, wise men

use them; for they teach not their own use, but that is a wisdom

without them and above them won by observation. Read not to

contradict nor to believe, but to weigh and consider. Some books

are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be

chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only

in parts, others to be read but cursorily, and some few to be

read wholly and with diligence and attention. Reading maketh

a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man.

And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great

memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit;

and if he read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to

know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the

mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic

and rhetoric able to contend.

(2) Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and

wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that

is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation.

Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take

for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and

consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed,

and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books

are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not

curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence

and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and

extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in

the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books;

else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy

things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and

writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he

had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need

have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much

cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men

wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy

deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.

_Of Studies_

OTHER PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Roger Ascham (1515–68)= is representative of the earliest school of

Elizabethan prose. He was born in Yorkshire, and educated privately and

at St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he became a Fellow (1535) and

a teacher of Greek (1540). He took part in the literary and religious

disputes of the time, but managed to keep his feet on the shifting

grounds of politics. He was appointed tutor to Elizabeth (1548) and

secretary to Queen Mary; he visited the Continent as secretary to an

embassy; and ultimately was appointed a canon of York Minster.

His two chief works were _Toxophilus_ (1544), a treatise, in the

form of a dialogue, on archery; and _The Scholemaster_ (1570), an

educational work containing some ideas that were then fairly fresh

and enlightening. Ascham was a man of moderate literary talent, of

great industry, and of boundless enthusiasm for learning. Though he

is strongly influenced by classical models, he has all the strong

Elizabethan sense of nationality. In _Toxophilus_ he declares his

intention of “writing this English matter in the English speech for

Englishmen.” In style he is plain and strong, using only the more

obvious graces of alliteration and antithesis.

=2. John Lyly (1553–1606)= marks another stage in the march of

English prose. He was born in Kent, educated at Oxford, and, failing to

obtain Court patronage, became a literary man in London. At first he

had considerable success, and entered Parliament; but at a later stage

his popularity declined, and he died poverty-stricken in London.

We have already mentioned his comedies (see p. 105), which at the time

brought him fame and money. But his first prose work, _Euphues,

the Anatomy of Wit_ (1579), made him one of the foremost figures

of the day. He repeated the success with a second part, _Euphues

and his England_ (1580). The work is a kind of travel-romance,

recounting the adventures of Euphues, a young Athenian. The narrative

is interspersed with numerous discussions upon many topics. It was,

however, the style of its prose that gave the book its great vogue. It

is the first consciously fabricated prose style in the language. It

is mannered and affected almost to the point of being ridiculous. Its

tricks are obvious and easily imitated, and they are freely applied

by the next generation: balanced phrases, intricate alliteration,

labored comparisons drawn from classical and other sources, and ornate

epithets. The effect is quaint and not displeasing, but the narrative

labors under the weight of it. It certainly suited the growing literary

consciousness of its day, and hence its pronounced, though temporary,

success.

The following extract will illustrate the euphuistic manner:

Philautus being a town-born child, both for his own countenance,

and the great countenance which his father had while he

lived, crept into credit with Don Ferardo one of the chief

governors of the city, who although he had a courtly crew of

gentlewomen sojourning in his palace, yet his daughter, heir

to his whole revenues stained the beauty of them all, whose

modest bashfulness caused the other to look wan for envy, whose

lily cheeks dyed with a vermilion red, made the rest to blush

for shame. For as the finest ruby staineth the colour of the

rest that be in place, or as the sun dimmeth the moon, that

she cannot be discerned, so this gallant girl more fair than

fortunate, and yet more fortunate than faithful, eclipsed the

beauty of them all, and changed their colours. Unto her had

Philautus access, who won her by right of love, and should have

worn her by right of law, had not Euphues by strange destiny

broken the bonds of marriage, and forbidden the banns of

matrimony.

_Euphues and his England_

=3. Richard Hooker (1553–1600)= was born near Exeter, and educated

at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, where he was elected a Fellow

(1577). In 1582 he took orders, and later was appointed to a living in

Kent, where he died.

His great work, at which he labored during the greater part of his

life, was _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_. The first four of

the proposed eight books were issued in 1593; he finished one more;

and though the remaining three were published under his name when he

was dead, it is very doubtful if he was entirely responsible for them.

In the work he supports Episcopacy against Presbyterianism. In style

he is strongly affected by classical writers; but he usually writes

with homeliness and point; his sentences are carefully constructed;

the rhythm moves easily; and there is both precision and melody in his

choice of vocabulary. His style is an early example of scholarly and

accomplished English prose.

=4. Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613)= may be taken as typical of a

fairly large class of Elizabethan writers. He was born in Warwickshire,

educated at Oxford, and became a figure at the Court of King James. His

chief friend at Court was James’s favorite Robert Carr, with whom he

quarreled over a love-affair. For this Overbury fell into disfavor, and

was imprisoned in the Tower, where he was poisoned under mysterious and

barbarous circumstances.

Overbury survives in literature as the author of a series of

_Characters_ (1614). Based on the ancient Greek work of Theophrastus,

the book consists of a number of concise character-sketches of

well-known types, such as a Milkmaid, a Pedant, a Franklin, and

“an Affectate Traveller.” The sketches are solely of types, not of

individuals, and so lack any great literary merit. But they are

important for several reasons: they are a curious development of the

pamphlet, which was so common at that time; they are another phase

of the “humours” craze, seen so strongly in the Jonsonian and other

dramas; and they are an important element in the growth of the essay.

In style the book is strongly euphuistic, thus illustrating another

tendency of the time. They were added to and imitated by other writers,

including =John Earle (1601–65)=.

=5. Robert Burton (1577–1640)= was the son of a country gentleman, and

was born in Leicestershire. He was educated at Oxford, where, in holy

orders, he passed most of his life.

His famous work, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_, was first issued in

1621, and then constantly revised and reissued. It is an elaborate and

discursive study of melancholy, its species and kinds, its causes,

results, and cure. The book--labored, saturnine, and fantastic to an

extraordinary degree--has exercised a strong fascination over many

scholarly minds, including those of Dr. Johnson and Charles Lamb. Its

learning is immense and unconventional, being drawn from many rare

authors; its humor curiously crabbed, subdued, and ironical; and its

“melancholy,” though pervading, is not oppressive. The diction, harsh

and unstudied, is rarely obscure; the enormous sentences, packed with

quotation and allusion, are loosely knit. Both as a stylist and as a

personality Burton occupies his own niche in English literature.

=6. The Sermon-writers.= At the beginning of the seventeenth century

the sermon rose to a level of literary importance not hitherto

attained, and afterward rarely equaled. We have already mentioned Donne

(see p. 102), probably the most notable of his group, and we give space

to two other writers.

(_a_) =James Ussher (1581–1656)= was born in Dublin, and was descended

from an ancient Protestant family. He was educated at Trinity College,

Dublin, and rose to be Bishop of Meath and Archbishop of Armagh (1626).

In 1640 he visited England, where, owing to the disturbed state of

Ireland, he had to remain for the remainder of his life. His many

sermons, discourses, and tracts show learning, adroit argument, and a

plain and easy style. His _Chronologia Sacra_ was for a long time the

standard work on Biblical chronology.

(_b_) =Joseph Hall (1574–1656)= was educated at Cambridge, took orders,

and became a prominent opponent of the Puritans, among whom was Milton.

He was appointed Bishop of Exeter (1627) and of Norwich (1641). When

the Puritans rose to power Hall’s opinions brought him into disgrace.

He was imprisoned, and, though liberated, forbidden to preach. He died

in retirement.

Hall’s earliest work was in verse, and consisted of a series of satires

called _Virgidemiarum_ (1597), which were condemned by the Church as

being licentious. His theological and devotional works, the product

of his later years, are very numerous, and include tracts, sermons,

and treatises. Though he is often shallow and voluble, he writes

with literary grace. He is without doubt the most literary of the

theologians of the time.

=7. The Translators.= The zeal for learning which was such a prominent

feature of the early Elizabethan times was strongly apparent in the

frequent translations. This class of literature had several curious

characteristics. The translators cared little for verbal accuracy,

and sometimes were content to translate from a translation, say from

a French version of a Latin text. The translators, moreover, borrowed

from each other, and repeated the errors of their fellows. These habits

deprived their work of any great pretensions to scholarship; but they

were eager adventurers into the new realms of learning, and to a

great extent they reproduced the spirit, if not the letter, of their

originals.

One of the first and most popular of the translations was North’s

_Diall of Princes_ (1557), from an Italian original. North also

translated Plutarch’s _Lives_ (1579), a work that had much influence

upon Shakespeare and other dramatists. Other classical translations

were those of Virgil, done by =Phaer= in 1558 and =Stanyhurst= in

1583, and of Ovid, by =Turberville= in 1567 and by =Chapman= in 1595.

Chapman’s Translation of Homer (1596) is perhaps the most famous of

them all. It is composed in long, swinging lines, and is lively,

audacious, and pleasing.

=8. The Pamphleteers.= All through this period there is a flood of

short tracts on religion, politics, and literature. It was the work of

a host of literary hacks who earned a precarious existence in London.

These men represented a new class of writer. The Reformation had closed

the Church to them; the growth of the universities and of learning

continually increased their numbers. In later times journalism and

its kindred careers supplied them with a livelihood; but at this time

they eked out their existence by writing plays and squabbling among

themselves in the pages of broadsheets.

In its buoyancy and vigor, its quaint mixture of truculence and

petulance, Elizabethan pamphleteering is refreshingly boyish and

alive. It is usually keenly satirical, and in style it is unformed and

uncouth. The most notorious of the pamphleteers were =Thomas Nash

(1567–1601)=, =Robert Greene (1560–92)=, and =Thomas Lodge

(1558–1625)=. We quote a well-known passage from a pamphlet of

Greene, in which he contrives to mingle praise of his friends with sly

gibes at one who is probably Shakespeare. The style is typical of the

pamphlets.

And thou,[100] no less deserving than the other two,[101] in

some things rarer, in nothing inferior; driven (as myself) to

extreme shifts, a little have I to say to thee; and were it

not an idolatrous oath, I would swear by sweet St. George,

thou art unworthy better hap, sith thou dependest on so mean

a stay. Base-minded men all three of you, if by my misery ye

be not warned; for unto none of you (like me) sought those

burs to cleave,--those puppets, I mean,--that speak from our

mouths,--those antics garnished in our colours. Is it not

strange that I, to whom they all have been beholden,--is it not

like that you, to whom they all have been beholden,--shall

(were ye in that case that I am now) be both at once of them

forsaken? Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow,

beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger’s heart wrapt

in a player’s hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast

out a blank-verse as the best of you: and being an absolute

_Johannes factotum_, is in his own conceit the only

Shakescene in a country. Oh, that I might entreat your rare wits

to be employed in more profitable courses, and let those apes

imitate your past excellence, and never more acquaint them with

your admired inventions! I know the best husband of you all

will never prove an usurer, and the kindest of them all will

never prove a kind nurse: yet, whilst you may, seek you better

masters; for it is pity men of such rare wits should be subject

to the pleasures of such rude grooms.

_A Groatsworth of Wit bought with a

Million of Repentance_

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

At the beginning of the Elizabethan age English literary forms were

still to a large extent in the making; at the end of the period there

is a rich and varied store of most of the chief literary species. All

that can be done here is to give the barest outline of this development.

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) _Lyrical Poetry._ The temper of the age was suited

to the lyrical mood, and so the abundance of the lyric is very great.

It begins with the first efforts of Wyat and Surrey (1557); it

continues through the dramas in all their stages; and it appears in

the numerous miscellanies of the period. Then the lyrical impulse is

carried on without a break into the melodies of Campion and the darker

moods of Donne. The forms of the lyric are many, and on the whole its

notes are musical, wild, and natural.

An interesting sub-species of the lyric is the _sonnet_. We have seen

how it took two forms--the Italian or Petrarchan form, and the English

or Shakespearian type. During this period both kinds flourished, the

English kind to a greater degree. Wyat began (1557) with a group of the

Italian type; Surrey introduced the English form. Then the sonnet, in

one or other of its two forms, was continued by Sidney in _Astrophel

and Stella_ (published in 1591), by Spenser, by Shakespeare, by Daniel

in _Delia_ (1592), and by Watson in _Heoatompathia, or Passionate

Century of Sonnets_ (1582). Later in the period the sonnet was less

popular, though Drayton wrote at least one of great power.

(_b_) _Descriptive and Narrative Poetry._ This is a convenient title

for a large and important class of poems. In this period it begins

with such works as Sackville’s _Induction_ (1555), and continues

with Marlowe’s _Hero and Leander_ (1598) and Shakespeare’s _Venus

and Adonis_ (1593) and _The Rape of Lucrece_ (1594). It culminates

in the sumptuous allegorical poetry of Spenser; and it begins its

decline with the Spenserians of the type of the Fletchers and with

Drayton’s _Endimion and Phœbe_ (1600). The pastoral, which is a kind of

descriptive poem, is seen in Spenser’s _Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579), in

Browne’s _Britannia’s Pastorals_ (1613), and in Drayton. Almost purely

descriptive poetry is represented in Drayton’s _Polyolbion_ (1612);

and a more strongly narrative type is the same poet’s _England’s

Heroical Epistles_ (1597). All these poems are distinguished by strong

descriptive power, freshness of fancy, and sometimes by positive genius

of style.

(_c_) _Religious_, _satirical_, and _didactic poetry_ cannot take

a position equal in importance to the rest. During the period the

satirical intent is quite strong, but it does not produce great poetry.

Gascoigne’s _Steel Glass_ (1576) is one of the earliest satires; and it

is followed by Donne’s _Satires_ (1593) and Hall’s _Satires_ (1597).

Drayton’s _Harmony of the Church_ (1591) is religious in motive; so are

several poems of Donne, and also many of those of the Jesuit =Robert

Southwell (1561–95)=.

=2. Drama.= The opening of the Elizabethan period saw the drama

struggling into maturity. The early type of the time was scholarly in

tone and aristocratic in authorship. An example of the earliest type

of playwright is =Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke (1554–1628)=, who

distinguished himself both as a dramatic and lyrical poet.

To this stage succeeded that of Shakespeare, which covered

approximately the years 1595 to 1615. Of this drama all we can say

here is that it is the crown and flower of the Elizabethan literary

achievement, and embodies almost the entire spirit both of drama and

poetry.

The decline begins with Jonson, and continues with Beaumont and

Fletcher, Dekker, Heywood, and the other dramatists mentioned in this

chapter. The decline is made clear in several ways: in the narrowing

of the ample Shakespearian motive, which comprises all mankind, into

themes of temporary, local, and fragmentary importance; in the lack of

creative power in the characterization, resulting (as in Jonson) in

mere types or “humors,” or (as in Dekker and Fletcher) in superficial

improvisation, or in ponderous tragical figures (as in Webster and

Tourneur); and lastly, in the degradation of the style, which will be

noted below. Sometimes the decline is gilded with delicate fancy, as in

Fletcher’s _Faithful Shepherdess_, or in the exquisite _Parliament of

Bees_ (1607) by =John Day (1574–1640)=; but the grace and charm of such

plays cannot conceal the falling-off in power and imagination.

With regard to the development of the different dramatic types, we have

already noted that tragedy developed first; in Shakespeare all kinds

received attention, tragedy most of all. In post-Shakespearian drama

light comedy was the most popular species, chiefly because the tragic

note of exalted pity had degenerated into melodrama and horrors.

A special word is perhaps necessary on the _masque_, which

during this time had a brief but brilliant career. The masque is

a short dramatic performance composed for some particular festive

occasion, such as the marriage or majority of a great man’s son; it is

distinguished by ornate stage-setting, by lyrics, music, and dancing,

and by allegorical characters. It finds a place in Shakespeare’s

_Tempest_ and other plays; it is strongly developed in the works

of Jonson, Fletcher, and other poets of the time; and it attains its

climax during the next age in the _Comus_ (1637) of Milton.

=3. Prose.= In Elizabethan times the development of prose was

slower and slighter than that of poetry.

(_a_) The _essay_, beginning in the pamphlet, character-sketch, and

other miscellaneous writing, develops in the work of Bacon. Its rise

will be sketched more fully in a future chapter (see p. 268).

(_b_) The _novel_ has some meager but significant beginnings in More’s

_Utopia_ (1516), Sidney’s _Arcadia_ (published in 1590), Lyly’s

_Euphues_ (1579), Bacon’s _New Atlantis_ (1626), and most of all in

Nash’s _The Unfortunate Traveller_ (1594). The rise of the novel is

also reserved for a later chapter (see p. 336).

(_c_) _Miscellaneous prose_, in the pamphlets, theological works,

sermons, translations, travels, and such abnormalities as Burton’s

_Anatomy of Melancholy_ (1621), is exceedingly voluminous and

important. We have here a large, loose, and varied mass of English

prose, the central exercising-ground of the average prose-writer, that

is to be the foundation of many important groups of the future.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= The period immediately preceding was that of the clumsy

poetry of Hawes, Skelton, and their kind; succeeding it is the strength

and beauty of Elizabethan poetry. Between these two extremes the

different stages of development are fairly well marked.

(_a_) The earliest period (say from 1550–80) is that of Wyat, Surrey,

Sidney, and the University Wits. This is the formative and imitative

period, during which the dependence upon classical originals is

particularly strong. The style has the precision and the erratic

character of the diligent pupil. There are few deliberate innovations,

and lapses into barbarism are not unknown. In this period appear the

sonnet, blank verse, and many of the beautiful lyrical metrical forms.

The lyrical style is least restrained by the influence of classical

models.

(_b_) The Spenserian and Shakespearian stage (from about 1580 to 1615)

is the stage of highest development. The native English genius, having

absorbed the lessons of foreign writers, adds to them the youth and

ardor of its own spirit. The result is a fullness, freshness, and

grandeur of style unequaled in any other period of our literature.

There are the lyrics and allegories of Spenser; the poems, dramas, and

lyrics of Shakespeare; and the innumerable miscellanies, poems, and

plays of other writers. The style is as varied as the poems; but the

universal note is the romantic one of power and ease.

(_c_) In the second decade of the seventeenth century the decline

is apparent. The inspired phraseology, the wealth and flexibility of

vocabulary, and the general bloom of the style pass into the lightness

of fancy and the tinkling unsubstantial verse of the nature of

Campion’s. Or the high seriousness degenerates into the gloomy manner

of the Websterian tragedy. The handling of blank verse is typical of

the movement. The sinewy Shakesperian blank verse becomes nerveless; in

drama prose is commoner in quantity and coarser in fiber. In the lyric

much of the old technical dexterity survives, but the deeper qualities

of passion and sincerity are less common and robust.

=2. Prose.= Unlike that of poetry, the style of prose enjoys a

steady development, continued from the previous age, and maintained

through the Elizabethan age. Euphuism, which appeared early in this

epoch, was a kind of literary measles incidental to early growth, and

it quickly passed away, leaving the general body of English prose

healthier than before. There is an increase in the raw material of

prose in the shape of many foreign words that are imported; there is a

growing expertness in sentence-and paragraph-construction and in the

more delicate graces of style, such as rhythm and melody. The prose

of Hooker and Bacon (in his later stages) represents the furthest

development of the time. Prose style has yet a great deal to learn, but

it is learning fast.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

+----+------------------------------------------+-------------------------+----------------------------------+

|DATE|-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

| | | | | | | | | |

|1550| | | | | | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

| | | | | | | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

| | | | | | | | | |

|1570| | | | | | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

| | | | | | | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

| | | | | Kyd | | | |

|1590| | | | Marlowe | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+-------------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+-------------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+-------------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

|1620| | | | | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

| | | | | | | | | |

|1640| | | | | | | | |

+----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+

EXERCISES

1. The following extracts illustrate the growth of the English lyric

from earliest times. Arrange the passages approximately in order of

development, adding dates when it seems possible. Write a note on the

style of each, and point out in what respects it is typical of its

author or period.

(1) Still to be neat, still to be drest,

As you were going to a feast;

Still to be powdered, still perfumed:

Lady, it is to be presumed,

Though art’s hid causes are not found,

All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face,

That makes simplicity a grace;

Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:

Such sweet neglect more taketh me

Than all the adulteries of art:

They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

JONSON, _Epicene_

(2) Son icche herde that mirie note

Thider I drogh;

I fond her in an herber swot

Under a bough

With joie enough.

Son I asked: “Thou mirie mai

Hwi sinkestou ai?”

_Nou sprinkes the sprai,

All for love icche am so seek

That slepen I ne mai._

_Old Song_

(3) A blissful life thou says I lead;

Thou wouldest know thereof the stage.

Thou wost well when thy Perle con schede,

I was full young and tender of age;

But my Lord the Lomb, through his God-hede,

He took myself to his maryage,

Coround me queen in bliss to brede[111]

In length of dayes that ever shall wage.

And seised in all his heritage

His lef[112] is; I am wholly his;

His praise, his price, and his parage

Is root and ground of all my bliss.

_Pearl_

(4) Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?

O sweet content!

Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?

O punishment!

Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed

To add to golden numbers, golden numbers?

O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!

Work apace, apace, apace, apace;

Honest labour bears a lovely face;

Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!

Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring?

O sweet content!

Swim’st thou in wealth, yet sink’st in thine own tears?

O punishment!

Then he that patiently want’s burden bears

No burden bears, but is a king, a king!

O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!

Work apace, apace, apace, apace;

Honest labour bears a lovely face;

Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!

DEKKER, _Sweet Content_

2. In the following passages, which illustrate the development of blank

verse, examine the metrical features (such as the scansion, variation

of the pause, and the melody) of each, and mention if any improvement

is apparent.

(1) It was the time when granted from the gods,

The first sleep creeps most sweet in weary folk,

Lo, in my dream before mine eyes, methought

With rueful cheer I saw where Hector stood

(Out of whose eyes gushed streams of tears),

Drawn at a car as he of late had been,

Distained with bloody dust, whose feet were bowl’n[113]

With the strait cords wherewith they haled him.

SURREY, _Æneid_, 1557

(2) That age is dead and vanished long ago,

Which thought that steel both trusty was and true

And needed not a foil of contraries,

But shewed all things even as they were in deed.

In stead whereof, our curious years can find

The crystal glass, which glimpseth brave and bright,

And shews the thing much better far than it,

Beguiled with foils, of sundry subtle sights

So that they seem and covet not to be.

GASCOIGNE, _The Steel Glass_, 1576

(3) _Prospero._ Of the king’s ship

The mariners, say how thou hast disposed

And all the rest o’ the fleet.

_Ariel._ Safely in harbour

Is the king’s ship: in the deep nook, where once

Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid:

The mariners all under hatches stow’d;

Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet

Which I dispersed, they all have met again

And are upon the Mediterranean flote,

Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d

And his great person perish.

SHAKESPEARE, _The Tempest_, 1611

3. Comment upon the style, meter, and general level of excellence shown

in the following sonnets. Point out any development that is observable.

(1) The sweet season, that bud and bloom forth brings,

With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale.

The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings;

The turtle to her mate hath told her tale;

Summer is come, for every spray now springs.

The hart hath hung his old head on the pale:

The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;

The fishes fleet with new repaired scale;

The adder all her slough away she flings;

The swift swallow pursueth the flies small;

The busy bee her honey how she mings!

Winter is worn, that was the flowers’ bale,

And thus I see among these pleasant things

Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

SURREY, _To Spring_, 1557

(2) Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere;

Sweet is the juniper, but sharpe his bough;

Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere,

Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough;

Sweet is the cyprese, but his rynd is tough;

Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;[114]

Sweet is the broome flowre, but yet sowre enough;

And sweet is moly, but his root is ill;

So, every sweet, with soure is tempred still,

That maketh it be coveted the more:

For easie things that may be got at will

Most sorts of men doe set but little store.

Why then should I accompt of little paine

That endlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine!

SPENSER, _Amoretti_, 1595

(3) Since there’s no help, come, let us kiss and part,--

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free;

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain.

Now at the last gasp of love’s latest breath,

When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,

When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And innocence is closing up his eyes,

--Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

From death to life thou mightest him yet recover!

DRAYTON, 1620

4. Hooker’s is sometimes considered to be the most highly developed of

Elizabethan prose styles. In the following two extracts examine the

vocabulary, sentence-construction, and general competence of the first,

and compare it with the second, which was written about two hundred

years earlier.

(1) Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice,

it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable

disposition, such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and

so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is

most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think

that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony; a

thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states; a

thing as seasonable in grief as in joy; as decent being added

unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used

when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason

hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and

represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible

mean, the very standing, rising and falling, the very steps and

inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions

whereunto the mind is subject; yea, so to imitate them, that,

whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds

already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by

the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In

harmony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice

is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and

brought by having them often iterated into a love of the things

themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and

pestilent than some kinds of harmony; than some, nothing more

strong and potent unto good.

HOOKER, _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_, 1592

(2) This Emperor Prester John, when he goeth in to battle,

against any other lord, he hath no banners borne before him: but

he hath three crosses of gold, fine, great and high, full of

precious stones: and every of the crosses be set in a chariot,

full richly arrayed. And for to keep every cross, be ordained

ten thousand men of arms, and more than a hundred thousand

men on foot, in manner as men would keep a standard in our

countries, when that we be in land of war. And this number of

folk is without the principal host, and without wings ordained

for the battle. And when he hath no war, but rideth with a privy

retinue, then he hath borne before him but a cross of tree,

without peinture, and without gold or silver or precious stones;

in remembrance, that Jesu Christ suffered death upon a cross of

tree.

MANDEVILLE, _Travels_, 1400

5. In what respects is each of the following extracts typical of

its author and its age? Write a very brief appreciation of the

style of each.

(1) Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,

And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.--

Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies!

Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.

Here will I dwell, for heaven is in those lips,

And all is dross that is not Helena.

I will be Paris, and for love of thee,

Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sacked;

And I will combat with weak Menelaus,

And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;

Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,

And then return to Helen for a kiss.

Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air

Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

MARLOWE, _Doctor Faustus_

(2) Iffida, the water standing in her eyes, clasping my hand in

hers, with a sad countenance answered me thus:

“My good Fidus, if the increasing of my sorrows, might mitigate

the extremity of thy sickness, I could be content to resolve

myself into tears to rid thee of trouble: but the making of a

fresh wound in my body is nothing to the healing of a festered

sore in thy bowels: for that such diseases are to be cured

in the end, by the names of their original. For as by basil

the scorpion is engendered and by the means of the same herb

destroyed: so love which by time and fancy is bred in an idle

head, is by time and fancy banished from the heart: or as the

salamander which, being a long space nourished in the fire,

at the last quencheth it, so affection having taken hold of

the fancy, and living as it were in the mind of the lover, in

tract of time altereth and changeth the heat, and turneth it to

chillness.

LYLY, _Euphues and his England_

(3) Cozen german to idleness, and a concomitant cause which goes hand

in hand with it, is _nimia solitudo_, too much solitariness--by

the testimony of all physicians, cause and symptom both; but as it is

here put for a cause, it is either coact, enforced, or else voluntary.

Enforced solitariness is commonly seen in students, monks, friars,

anchorites, that, by their order and course of life, must abandon all

company, society of other men, and betake themselves to a private

cell; _otio superstitioso seclusi_ (as Bale and Hospinian well

term it), such as are the Carthusians of our time, that eat no flesh

(by their order), keep perpetual silence, never go abroad; such as

live in prison, or some desert place, and cannot have company, as many

of our country gentlemen do in solitary houses; they must either be

alone without companions, or live beyond their means, and entertain

all comers as so many hosts, or else converse with their servants

and hinds, such as are unequal, inferior to them, and of a contrary

disposition; or else, as some do, to avoid solitariness, spend their

time with lewd fellows in taverns, and in ale-houses, and thence

addict themselves to some unlawful disports, or dissolute courses.

BURTON, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_

(4) Mr Peter, as one somewhat severe of nature, said plainly, that the

rod only was the sword that must keep the school in obedience, and

the scholar in good order. Mr Wotton, a man of mild nature, with soft

voice, and few words, inclined to Mr Secretary’s judgment, and said,

“In mine opinion the school-house should be in deed, as it is called

by name, the house of play and pleasure, and not of fear and bondage;

and as I do remember, so saith Socrates in one place of Plato. And

therefore, if a rod carry the fear of a sword it is no marvel if those

that be fearful of nature choose rather to forsake the play, than to

stand always within the fear of a sword in a fond man’s handling.”

ASCHAM, _The Scholemaster_

(5) Come little babe, come silly soul,

Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief,

Born as I doubt to all our dole,

And to thyself unhappy chief:

Sing lullaby and lap it warm,

Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.

Thou little think’st and less dost know

The cause of this thy mother’s moan;

Thou want’st the wit to wail her woe,

And I myself am all alone;

Why dost thou weep, why dost thou wail,

And know’st not yet what thou dost ail?

Come little wretch, ah silly heart,

Mine only joy; what can I more?

If there be any wrong thy smart,

That may the destinies implore;

’Twas I, I say, against my will;

I wail the time, but be thou still.

_A Sweet Lullaby_

(from _The Arbor of Amorous Devices_)

(6) Ere long they come where that same wicked wight

His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,[115]

Far underneath a craggie clifty pight,

Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave,

That still for carrion carcases doth crave:

On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle,

Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave

Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;

And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle and howle.

And all about old stockes and stubs of trees,

Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene,

Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees;

On which had many wretches hanged beene,

Whose carcases were scattred on the greene,

And throwne about the clifts. Arrived there,

That bare-head knight, for dread and dolefull teene,

Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare;

But th’ other forst him staye, and comforted in feare.

That darksome cave they enter, where they find

That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,

Musing full sadly in his sullein mind:

His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound,

Disordered hong about his shoulders round,

And his face, through which his hollow eyne

Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;

His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine,

Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never dine.

SPENSER, _The Faerie Queene_

6. What features of Shakespeare’s life and literary work does Arnold

refer to in the following sonnet? How far do his statements appear to

you inaccurate or exaggerated?

Others abide our question. Thou art free.

We ask and ask--thou smilest and art still,

Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill,

Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty,

Planting his stedfast footsteps in the sea,

Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place,

Spares but the cloudy border of his base

To the foil’d searching of mortality;

And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know,

Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure,

Didst tread on earth unguess’d at. Better so!

All pains the immortal spirit must endure,

All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow,

Find their sole speech in that victorious brow.

MATTHEW ARNOLD, _Shakespeare_

7. Compare very carefully the two given extracts from Shakespeare’s

plays. Observe the handling of each: the simplicity or ornateness of

diction, the power of expression, and the strength and flexibility of

the blank verse. On these grounds, which would you say was taken from

an early and which from a later?

(1) _Cordelia._ He wakes; speak to him.

_Doctor._ Madam, do you: ’tis fittest.

_Cordelia._ How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

_Lear._ You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave:

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do scald like molten lead.

_Cordelia._ Sir, do you know me?

_Lear._ You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

_Cordelia._ Still, still, far wide!

_Doctor._ He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

_Lear._ Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?

I am mightily abused. I should e’en die with pity,

To see another thus. I know not what to say.

I will not swear these are my hands: let’s see;

I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured

Of my condition!

_King Lear_

(2) _Portia._ It must not be. There is no power in Venice

Can alter a decree established:

’Twill be recorded for a precedent,

And many an error by the same example

Will rush into the state. It cannot be.

_Shylock._ A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!

O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!

_Portia._ I pray you, let me look upon the bond.

_Shylock._ Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.

_Portia._ Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee.

_Shylock._ An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven.

Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?

No, not for Venice.

_Portia._ Why, this bond is forfeit;

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim

A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off

Nearest the merchant’s heart.--Be merciful:

Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.

_The Merchant of Venice_

8. Explain and discuss the following statements concerning Shakespeare.

Whenever you can, illustrate with examples from the plays.

(1) He was not of an age, but for all time.--JONSON.

(2) Panting time toiled after him in vain.--JOHNSON.

(3) The genius of Shakespeare was an innate universality.

KEATS.

(4) His plays are distinguished by signal adherence to the great

laws of nature, that all opposites tend to attract and temper

each other.--COLERIDGE.

(5) The striking peculiarity of Shakespeare’s mind was its

power of communicating with other minds, so that it contained a

universe of thought and feeling within itself.--HAZLITT.

9. What were the signs of the “dramatic decline” that set in after

Shakespeare? Mention some dramatists whose plays show this decline.

10. Try to account for the weakness of English prose when compared with

the poetry of the time.

(1) No single prose writer of the time, not even Hooker, holds

the same rank that Spenser holds in poetry.--SAINTSBURY.

(2) The poets and dramatists of the age of Elizabeth completed

their work quickly, and attained, by leaps and bounds, to the

consummate perfection of their diction. But prose style grows

more slowly; and its growth is hindered rather than quickened by

the very variety of its subject.--CRAIK.

11. In what respects is the title “Elizabethan literature” open to

objection when it is applied to the matter of this chapter? Suggest

other titles.

12. To what extent were the University Wits immature dramatists? What

was their contribution to the English drama?

13. “The age of Elizabeth made the most of both native and classical

elements.” Discuss this statement.

14. It is frequently stated that during the second half of the

Elizabethan period drama weakened and prose strengthened. Confirm or

confute the statement.

15. How was this time “the Golden Age of the lyric”?

His legs bestrid the ocean; his reared arm