THE FATAL DOWRY
BY
PHILIP MASSINGER AND
NATHANIEL FIELD
EDITED, FROM THE ORIGINAL QUARTO,
WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
A DISSERTATION
PRESENTED TO THE
FACULTY OF PRINCETON UNIVERSITY
IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE
OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
BY
CHARLES LACY LOCKERT, JR.
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, KENYON COLLEGE
PRESS OF
THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY
LANCASTER, PA.
1918
Accepted by the Department of English, June, 1916
PREFACE
This critical edition of _The Fatal Dowry_ was undertaken as a Thesis
in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Ph.D. at
Princeton University. It was compiled under the guidance and direction
of Professor T. M. Parrott of that institution, and every page of
it is indebted to him for suggestion, advice, and criticism. I can
but inadequately indicate the scope of his painstaking and scholarly
supervision, and can even less adequately express my appreciation of
his ever-patient aid, which alone made this work possible.
I desire also to acknowledge my debt to Professor J. Duncan Spaeth
of Princeton University, for his valuable suggestions in regard to
the presentation of my material, notably in the Introduction; also to
Professor T. W. Baldwin of Muskingum College and Mr. Henry Bowman,
both of them then fellow graduate students of mine at Princeton, for
assistance on several occasions in matters of special inquiry; and to
Dr. M. W. Tyler of the Princeton Department of History for directing me
in clearing up a lego-historical point; and finally to the libraries of
Yale and Columbia Universities for their kind loan of needed books.
INTRODUCTION
In the Stationer’s Register the following entry is recorded under the
date of “30º Martij 1632:”
CONSTABLE Entred for his copy vnder the hands of Sir HENRY HERBERT
and master _SMITHWICKE_ warden a Tragedy called _the ffatall
Dowry_. Vj d.
In the year 1632 was published a quarto volume whose title-page was
inscribed: _The Fatall Dowry_: a Tragedy: As it hath been often Acted
at the Private House in Blackfriars, by his Majesties Servants.
Written by P. M. and N. F. London, Printed by John Norton, for Francis
Constable, and are to be sold at his shop at the Crane, in Pauls
Churchyard. 1632.
That the initials by which the authors are designated stand for Philip
Massinger and Nathaniel Field is undoubted.
LATER TEXTS
There is no other seventeenth century edition of _The Fatal Dowry_. It
was included in various subsequent collections, as follows:
I. _The Works of Philip Massinger_--edited by Thomas Coxeter,
1759--re-issued in 1761, with an introduction by T. Davies.
II. _The Dramatic Works of Philip Massinger_--edited by John Monck
Mason, 1779.
III. _The Plays of Philip Massinger_--edited by William Gifford, 1805.
There was a revised second edition in 1813, which is still regarded as
the Standard Massinger Text, and was followed in subsequent editions of
Gifford.
IV. _Modern British Drama_--edited by Sir Walter Scott, 1811. The text
of this reprint of _The Fatal Dowry_ is Gifford’s.
V. _Dramatic Works of Massinger and Ford_--edited by Hartley Coleridge,
1840 (_et seq._). This follows the text of Gifford.
VI. _The Plays of Philip Massinger._ From the Text of William Gifford.
With the Addition of the Tragedy Believe as You List. Edited by Francis
Cunningham, 1867 (_et seq._). The Fatal Dowry in this edition, as in
the preceding, is a mere reprint of the Second Edition of Gifford.
VII. _Philip Massinger._ Selected Plays. (Mermaid Series.) Edited by
Arthur Symons, 1887-9 (_et seq._).
In addition to the above, _The Fatal Dowry_ appeared in _The Plays of
Philip Massinger_, adapted for family reading and the use of young
persons, by the omission of objectionable passages,--edited by Harness,
1830-1; and another expurgated version was printed in the _Mirror of
Taste and Dramatic Censor_, 1810. Both of these are based on the text
of Gifford.
The edition of Coxeter is closest of all to the Quarto, following even
many of its most palpable mistakes, and adding some blunders on its
own account. Mason accepts practically all of Coxeter’s corrections,
and supplies a great many more variants himself, not all of which are
very happy. Both these eighteenth century editors continually contract
for the sake of securing a perfectly regular metre (e. g.: _You’re_
for _You are_, I, i, 139; _th’ honours_ for _the honours_, I, ii, 35;
etc.), while Gifford’s tendency is to give the full form for even the
contractions of the Quarto, changing its _’em’s_ to _them’s_, etc.
Gifford can scarce find words sharp enough to express his scorn for his
predecessors in their lack of observance of the text of the Quarto,
yet he himself frequently repeats their gratuitous emendations when
the original was a perfectly sure guide, and he has almost a mania for
tampering with the Quarto on his own account. Symons’ _Mermaid_ text,
while based essentially on that of Gifford, in a number of instances
departs from it, sometimes to make further emendations, but more often
to go back from those of Gifford to the version of the original, so
that on the whole this is the best text yet published.
There has been a German translation by the Graf von Baudisson, under
the title of _Die Unselige Mitgift_, in his _Ben Jonson und seine
Schule_, Leipsig, 1836; and a French translation, in prose, under
the title of _La dot fatale_ by E. Lafond in _Contemporains de
Shakespeare_, Paris, 1864.
DATE
The date of the composition or original production of _The Fatal Dowry_
is not known. The Quarto speaks of it as having been “often acted,” so
there is nothing to prevent our supposing that it came into existence
many years before its publication. It does not seem to have been
entered in Sir Henry Herbert’s Office Book.[1] This would indicate its
appearance to have been prior to Herbert’s assumption of the duties of
his office in August, 1623. In seeking a more precise date we can deal
only in probabilities.[2]
The play having been produced by the King’s Men, a company in which
Field acted, it was most probably written during his association
therewith. This was formed in 1616; the precise date of his retirement
from the stage is not known. His name appears in the patent of March
27, 1619, just after the death of Burbage, and again and for the last
time in a livery list for his Majesty’s Servants, dated May 19, 1619.
It is absent from the next grant for livery (1621) and from the actors’
lists for various plays which are assigned to 1619 or 1620. We may
therefore assume safely that his connection with the stage ended before
the close of 1619. On the basis of probability, then, the field is
narrowed to 1616-19.[3]
More or less presumptive evidence may be adduced for a yet more
specific dating. During these years that Field acted with the King’s
Men, two plays appeared which bear strong internal evidence of being
products of his collaboration with Massinger and Fletcher: _The Knight
of Malta_ and _The Queen of Corinth_. While several parallels of
phraseology are afforded for _The Fatal Dowry_ by these (as, indeed, by
every one of the works of Massinger) they are not nearly so numerous
or so striking as similarities discoverable between it and certain
other dramas of the Massinger _corpus_. With none does the connection
seem so intimate as with _The Unnatural Combat_. Both plays open with
a scene in which a young suppliant for a father’s cause is counseled,
in passages irresistibly reminiscent of each other, to lay aside pride
and modesty for the parent’s sake, because not otherwise can justice
be gained, and it is the custom of the age to sue for it shamelessly.
Moreover, the offer by Beaufort and his associates to Malefort of any
boon he may desire as a recompense for his service, and his acceptance
of it, correspond strikingly in both conduct and language with the
conferring of a like favor upon Rochfort by the Court (I, ii, 258
ff.); while the request which Malefort prefers, that his daughter be
married to Beaufort Junior, and the language with which that young man
acknowledges this meets his own dearest wish, bear a no less patent
resemblance to the bestowal of Beaumelle upon Charalois (II, ii,
284-297). Now this last parallel is significant, because _The Unnatural
Combat_ is an unaided production of Massinger, while the analogue in
_The Fatal Dowry_ occurs in a scene that is by the hand of Field. The
similarity may, of course, be only an accident, but presumably it is
not. Then did Field borrow from Massinger, or did Massinger from Field?
The most plausible theory is that _The Unnatural Combat_ was written
immediately after _The Fatal Dowry_, when Massinger’s mind was so
saturated with the contents of the tragedy just laid aside that he was
liable to echo in the new drama the expressions and import of lines in
the old, whether by himself or his collaborator. That at any rate the
chronological relationship of the two plays is one of juxtaposition is
further attested by the fact that in minor parallelisms,[4] too, to
_The Fatal Dowry_, _The Unnatural Combat_ is richer than any other work
of Massinger.
Unfortunately _The Unnatural Combat_ is itself another play of whose
date no more can be said with assurance than that it preceeds the entry
of Sir Henry Herbert into office in 1623, though its crude horrors,
its ghost, etc., suggest moreover that it is its author’s initial
independent venture in the field of tragedy, his _Titus Andronicus_, an
ill-advised attempt to produce something after the “grand manner” of
half a generation back. Next in closeness to _The Fatal Dowry_ among
the works of Massinger as regards the number of its reminiscences of
phraseology stands his share of _The Virgin Martyr_; next in closeness
as regards the _strikingness_ of these parallels stands his share of
_The Little French Lawyer_. These two plays can be dated _circa_ 1620.
* * * * *
To sum up:
_The Fatal Dowry_ appears to antedate the installation of Sir Henry
Herbert in 1623.
It was probably written while Field was with the King’s Men; with whom
he became associated in 1616, and whom he probably quitted in 1619.
The indications point to its composition during the latter part of this
three-year period (1616-19), for it yields more and closer parallels
to _The Virgin Martyr_ and _The Little French Lawyer_, dated about
1620, than to _The Knight of Malta_ and _The Queen of Corinth_, dated
1617-8,--closer, indeed, than to any work of Massinger save one, _The
Unnatural Combat_, itself an undated but evidently early play, with
which its relationship is clearly of the most intimate variety.
* * * * *
The following (at best hazardously conjectural) scheme of sequence may
be advanced:
Fletcher and Massinger and Field together wrote _The Knight of Malta_
and _The Queen of Corinth_--according to received theory, in 1617 or
1618. Thereafter, the last two collaborators (desirous, perhaps, of
trying what they could do unaided and unshackled by the dominating
association of the chief dramatist of the day) joined hands in the
production of the tragedy which is the subject of our study. Then, upon
Field’s retirement, Massinger struck off, with _The Unnatural Combat_,
into unassisted composition; but we next find him, whether because he
recognized the short-comings of this turgid play or for other reasons,
again in double harness, at work upon _The Virgin Martyr_ and _The
Little French Lawyer_. On this hypothesis, _The Fatal Dowry_ would be
dated 1618-9.
SOURCES
No source is known for the main plot of _The Fatal Dowry_. A Spanish
original has been suspected, but it has never come to light. The stress
laid throughout the action on that peculiarly Spanish conception of
“the point of honor” (see under CRITICAL ESTIMATE, in consideration
of the character of Charalois) is unquestionably suggestive of the
land south of the Pyrenees, and we have an echo of _Don Quixote_
in the exclamation of Charalois (III, i, 441): “Away, thou curious
impertinent.” The identification, however, of the situation at Aymer’s
house in IV, ii with a scene in Cervantes’ _El viejo celoso_ (Obras
Completas De Cervantes, Tomo XII, p. 277) is extremely fanciful. The
only similarity consists in the circumstance that in both, while the
husband is on the stage, the wife, who, unknown to him, entertains
a lover in the next room, is heard speaking within. But this is a
spontaneous outcry on the part of Beaumelle, who does not suspect the
proximity of her husband, and her discovery follows, and from this
the denouement of the play; whereas in Cervantes’ _entremes_ the wife
deliberately calls in bravado to her niece, who is also on-stage, and
boasts of her lover,--and the husband thinks this is in jest, and
nothing comes of it but comedy.
The theme of the son’s redemption of his father’s corpse by his own
captivity is from the classical story of Cimon and Miltiades, as
narrated by Valerius Maximus, De dictis factisque memorabilibus, etc.
Lib. V, cap. III. De ingratis externorum: _Bene egissent Athenienses
cum Miltiade, si eum post trecenta millia Persarum Marathone devicta,
in exilium protinus misissent, ac non in carcere et vinculis mori
coegissent; sed, ut puto, hactenus saevire adversus optime meritum
abunde duxerunt: immo ne corpus quidem eius, sic expirare coacti
sepulturae primus mandari passi sunt, quam filius eius Cimon eisdem
vinculis se constrigendum traderet. Hanc hereditatem paternam maximi
ducis filius, et futurus ipse aetatis suae dux maximus, solam se
crevisse, catenas et carcerem, gloriari potuit._
In the version of Cornelius Nepos (Vitae, Cimon I) Cimon is
incarcerated against his will.
The action of the play is given the historical setting of the later
fifteenth century wars of Louis XI of France and Charles the Bold of
Burgundy, although this background is extremely hazy. The hero’s name
is the title which Charles bore while heir-apparent to the Duchy of
Burgundy; mention is made of Charles himself (“The warlike Charloyes,”
I, ii, 171), to Louis (“the subtill Fox of France, The politique
Lewis,” I, ii, 123-4), and to “the more desperate Swisse” (I, ii,
124), against whom Charles lost his life and the power of Burgundy
was broken; while the three great defeats he suffered at their hands,
Granson, Morat, Nancy, are named in I, ii, 170. Shortly after these
disasters the events which the play sets forth must be supposed to
occur; the parliament by which in our drama Dijon is governed was
established by Louis XI when he annexed Burgundy in 1477 and thereby
abolished her ducal independence.
COLLABORATION
It is doubtful if Massinger ever collaborated with any author whose
manner harmonized as well with his own as did Field’s. In his
partnership with Decker in _The Virgin Martyr_, the alternate hands
of the two dramatists afford a weird contrast.[5] His union with
Fletcher was less incongruous, but Fletcher was too much inclined to
take the bit between his teeth to be a comfortable companion in double
harness,[6] and at all times his volatile, prodigal genius paired ill
with the earnest, painstaking, not over-poetic moralist. But in Field
Massinger found an associate whose connection with himself was not only
congenial, but even beneficial, to the end that together they could
achieve certain results of which either was individually incapable;
just as it has been established was the case in the Middleton-Rowley
collaboration. To a formal element of verse different, indeed, from
Massinger’s, but not obtrusively so, a certain moral fibre of his
own (perhaps derived from his clerical antecedents), and a like
familiarity with stage technique, Field added qualities which Massinger
notably lacked, and thereby complemented him: a light and vigorous
(if sometimes coarse) comic touch as opposed to Massinger’s cumbrous
humor; a freshness and first-hand acquaintance with life as opposed to
Massinger’s bookishness; a capacity to visualize and individualize
character as opposed to Massinger’s weakness for drawing types rather
than people. The fruit of their joint endeavors testifies to a
harmonious, conscientious, and mutually respecting partnership.
In consideration of the above, it is surprising how substantially in
accord are most of the opinions that have been expressed concerning the
share of the play written by each author.
“A critical reader,” says Monck Mason, “will perceive that Rochfort
and Charalois speak a different language in the Second and Third Acts,
from that which they speak in the first and last, which are undoubtedly
Massinger’s; as is also Part of the Fourth Act, but not the whole of
it.”
Dr. Ireland, in a postscript to the text of _The Fatal Dowry_ in
Gifford’s edition, agrees with Mason in assigning the Second Act
to Field and also the First Scene of the Fourth Act; the Third
Act, however, he claims for Massinger, as well as that share of
the play with which Mason credits him. Fleay and Boyle, the chief
modern commentators who have taken up the question of the division
of authorship with the aid of metrical tests and other criteria,
agree fairly well with the speculations of their less scientific
predecessors, and adopt an intermediate, reconciling position on the
disputed Third Act, dividing it between the two dramatists.[7]
Boyle (_Englische Studien_, V, 94) assigns to Massinger Act I; Act III
as far as line 316; Act IV, Scenes ii, iii, and iv; and the whole of
Act V, with the exception of Scene ii, lines 80-120, which he considers
an interpolation of Field, whom he also believes to have revised the
latter part of I, ii (from _Exeunt Officers with Romont_ to end).
Fleay (_Chron. Eng. Dra._, I, 208) exactly agrees with this division
save that the latter part of I, ii, which Boyle believes emended by
Field, he assigns to that author outright; and that he places the
division in Act III twenty-seven lines later (Field after _Manent Char.
Rom._).
In my own investigation I have used for each Scene the following tests
to distinguish the hands of the two authors:
(_a_) Broad aesthetic considerations: the comparison of style and
method of treatment with the known work of either dramatist.
(_b_) The test of parallel phrases. Massinger’s habit of repeating
himself is notorious. I have gone through the entire body of his
work, both that which appears under his name, and that which has been
assigned to him by modern research in the Beaumont & Fletcher plays,
and noted all expressions I found analogous to any which occur in
_The Fatal Dowry_. I have done the same for Field’s work, examining
his two comedies, _Woman is a Weathercock_ and _Amends for Ladies_,
and Acts I and V of _The Knight of Malta_ and III and IV of _The
Queen of Corinth_, which the consensus of critical opinion recognizes
(in my judgment, correctly) as his. He is generally believed to have
collaborated also in _The Honest Man’s Fortune_, but the exact extent
of his work therein is so uncertain that I have not deemed it a proper
field from which to adduce evidence. His hand has been asserted by one
authority or another to appear in various other plays of the period,
he having served, as it were, the role of a literary scapegoat on whom
it was convenient to father any Scene not identified as belonging to
Beaumont, Fletcher, or Massinger; but there is no convincing evidence
for his participation in the composition of any extant dramas save the
above named.
(_c_) Metrical tests. I have computed the figures for _The Fatal Dowry_
in regard to double or feminine endings and run-on lines. Massinger’s
verse displays high percentages (normally 30 per cent, to 45 per cent.)
in the case of either. Field’s verse varies considerably in the matter
of run-on lines at various periods of his life, but the proportion of
them is always smaller than Massinger’s. His double endings average
about 18 per cent. I have also counted in each Scene the number
of speeches that end within the line, and that end with the line,
respectively. (Speeches ending with fragmentary lines are considered to
have mid-line endings.) This is declared by Oliphant (_Eng. Studien_,
XIV, 72) the surest test for the work of Massinger. “His percentage of
speeches,” he says, “that end where the verses end is ordinarily as low
as 15.” This is a tremendous exaggeration, but it is true that the
ratio of mid-line endings is much higher in Massinger than in any of
his contemporaries--commonly 2:1, or higher.
We find the First Scene of Act I one of those skillful introductions
to the action which the “stage-poet” knew so well how to handle, for
which reason, probably, he was generally intrusted with the initial
Scene of the plays in which he collaborated. Thoroughly Massingerian
are its satire upon the degenerate age and its grave, measured
style, rhetorical where it strives to be passionate, and replete
with characteristic expressions. Especially striking examples of the
dramatist’s well-known and never-failing _penchant_ for the recurrent
use of certain ideas and phrases are: _As I could run the hazard of a
check for’t._ (l. 10)--cf. [8]C-G. 87 b, 156 b, 327 b; D. V, 328; XI,
28;--_You shall o’ercome._ (l. 101)--cf. C-G. 230 b, 248 b, 392 a;--and
ll. 183-7--cf. C-G. 206 a, 63 a, 91 a, 134 b. The correspondence
between ll. 81-99 and the opening of _The Unnatural Combat_ has already
been remarked on, while further reminiscences of the same passage are
to be found elsewhere in Massinger (C-G. 104 a, 195 b). Metrical tests
show for the Scene 33 per cent. double endings and 29 per cent. run-on
lines, figures which substantiate the conclusions derivable from a
scrutiny of its style and content.[9]
In I, ii Massinger appears in his element, an episode permitting
opportunities for the forensic fervor which was his especial forte.
Such Scenes occur again and again in his plays: the conversion of
the daughters of Theophilus by the Virgin Martyr, the plea of the
Duke of Milan to the Emperor, of old Malefort to his judges in _The
Unnatural Combat_, of Antiochus to the Carthagenian senate in _Believe
as You List_. From the speech with which Du Croy opens court (I, ii,
1-3)--cf. the inauguration of the senate-house scene in _The Roman
Actor_, C-G. 197 b,
_Fathers conscript, may this our meeting be
Happy to Caesar and the commonwealth!_
--to the very end, it abounds with Massingerisms: _Knowing judgment_;
_Speak to the cause_; _I foresaw this_ (an especial favorite of the
poet’s); _Strange boldness!_; the construction, _If that curses_,
etc;--also cf. l. 117 ff. with
_To undervalue him whose least fam’d service
Scornes to be put in ballance with the best
Of all your Counsailes._
(_Sir John van Olden B._, Bullen’s _Old Plays_, II, 232.)
We have seen that the hand of Field has been asserted to appear in the
last half of this Scene. This is probably due to the presence here of
several rhymed couplets, which are uncommon in Massinger save as tags
at the end of Scenes or of impressive speeches, but not absolutely
unknown in his work; whereas Field employs them frequently--in
particular to set off a gnomic utterance. If Field’s indeed, they
can scarcely represent more than his revising touch here and there;
everything else in this part of the Scene bespeaks Massinger no less
clearly than does the portion which preceeds it. There continues the
same stately declamation, punctuated at intervals by brief comments
or replies, the same periodic sentence-structure, the same or even
greater frequency of characteristic diction. Massinger again and again
refers in his plays to the successive hardships of the summer’s heat
and winter’s frost (l. 184--cf. C-G. 168 b, 205 a, 392 b, 488 b);
_stand bound_ occurs literally scores of times upon his pages (three
times on C-G. 77 a alone);--typical also are _in their dreadful ruins
buried quick_ (l. 178--cf. C-G. 603 a, 625 a, _Sir John van Olden B._,
Bullin’s _Old Plays_, II, 209), _Be constant in it_ (l. 196--cf. C-G.
2 a, 137 a, 237 a, 329 a), _Strange rashness!_, _It is my wonder_
(l. 293--cf. C-G. 26 b, 195 b; D. VIII, 438; XI, 34). Cf. also l. 156,
_To quit the burthen of a hopeless life,_
with C-G. 615 b,
_To ease the burthen of a wretched life._
And ll. 284-6,
_But would you had
Made trial of my love in anything
But this,_
with C-G. 286 a,
_I could wish you had
Made trial of my love some other way._
And again, ll. 301-3,
_and his goodness
Rising above his fortune, seems to me,
Princelike, to will, not ask, a courtesy._
with D. XI. 37,
_in his face appears
A kind of majesty which should command,
Not sue for favour._
and the general likeness of l. 258 ff. with C-G. 44 b-45 a, as above
noted. Nor do the verse tests reveal any break in the continuity of
the Scene; the figures for the first part are: double endings, 45 per
cent.; run-on lines, 33 per cent.--for the second part: double endings,
36 per cent.; run-on lines, 36 per cent.
Passing to the Second Act, we discover at once a new manner of
expression, in which the sentence has a looser structure, the verse
a quicker _tempo_, the poetry a striving now and again for a note of
lyric beauty which, although satisfactorily achieved in but few lines,
is by Massinger’s verse not even attempted. A liberal sprinkling
of rhymes appears. The Scene is a trifle more vividly conceived;
the emotions have a somewhat more genuine ring. Simultaneously,
resemblances to the phraseology of Massinger’s other plays become
infrequent; _and, to increase the wonder_, is almost the only reminder
of him in the whole of Scene i. On the other hand we must not expect
to find in the work of Field the same large number of recognizable
expressions as mark that of Massinger; for he was not nearly so given
to repeating himself, nor are there many of his plays extant from
which to garner parallels. The figure of speech with which Charalois
opens his funeral address [Field shows a great predilection for
“aqueous” similes and metaphors], the liberal use of oaths (_’Slid_,
_’Slight_), a reference (l. 137) to the Bermudas (also mentioned
in _Amends for Ladies_: M. 427), and the comparison to the oak and
pine (ll. 119-121--cf. a Field Scene of _The Queen of Corinth_: D. V,
436-7) are the only specific minutia to which a finger can be pointed.
The verse analysis testifies similarly to a different author from
that of Act I, double endings being 20 per cent., run-on lines 15 per
cent.--figures which are quite normal to Field.
To the actor-dramatist may be set down the prose of II, ii without
question. Massinger practically never uses prose, which is liberally
employed by Field, as is the almost indistinguishable prose-or-verse by
which a transition is made from one medium to the other. The dialogue
between Beaumelle and her maids is strikingly like that between two
“gentlewomen” in _The Knight of Malta_, I, ii--a Scene generally
recognized as by his hand; the visit of Novall Junior which follows
is like a page out of his earlier comedies. Notable resemblances are
ll. 177-8, _Uds-light! my lord, one of the purls of your band is,
without all discipline, fallen out of his rank_, with _I have seen him
sit discontented a whole play because one of the purls of his band was
fallen out of his reach to order again_. (_Amends for Ladies_, M. 455);
and l. 104, _they skip into my lord’s cast skins some twice a year_,
with _and then my lord_ (_like a snake_) _casts a suite every quarter,
which I slip into_: (_Woman is a Weathercock_, M. 374). The song, after
l. 131, recalls that in _Amends for Ladies_, M. 465.
Of the verse which follows, most of the observations made in regard to
the preceeding Scene are applicable. The comic touch in the midst of
Romont’s tirade (ll. 174-206) against old Novall, when the vehemence
of his indignation leads him to seek at every breath the epithet of
a different beast for his foe, is surely Field’s, not Massinger’s. A
Field scene of _The Queen of Corinth_, D. V, 438, parallels with its
_Thou a gentleman! thou an ass_, the construction of l. 276, while
there too is duplicated the _true-love knots_ of l. 314, though in a
rather grotesque connection. The verse tests are confirmative of Field:
21 per cent. double endings; 19 per cent, run-on lines. While a few
resemblances to phrases occurring somewhere in the works of Massinger
can be marked here and there in the 355 lines of the Scene, they are
not such as would demand consideration, nor are more numerous than
sheer chance would yield in the case of a writer so prolific as the
“stage-poet.” The parallel between ll. 284-297 and a passage from _The
Unnatural Combat_ is pointed out under the head of DATE, and one of
several possible explanations for this coincidence is there offered.
These lines in _The Fatal Dowry_ are as unmistakably Field’s as any
verse in the entire play; their short, abruptly broken periods and
their rapid flow are as characteristic of him as the style of their
analogue in _The Unnatural Combat_ is patently Massingerian.