LIBRARY 
 
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 University of California, 
 
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 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/birtheofherculesOOplaeirich 
 
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S)i88ertattone8 Hmedcanae 
 
 A SERIES OF THESES ACCEPTED BY THE FACULTIES OF 
 
 AMERICAN UNIVERSITIES FOR THE DEGREE 
 
 OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 jBmlisb Xanouage anD Xiteraturc* IFlo. I 
 
 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 By MALCOLM WILLIAM WALLACE 
 
 PROFESSOR OV RHETORIC AND ENGLISH LrrSBATUBX IN BELOIT COLIiEGE 
 
 CHICAGO 
 SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 
 
 LEIPZIG: GUSTAV FOCK PARIS: H. LE SOUDIER 
 
 M 
 
Classical pbdolog^e 
 
 UNDER THE EDITORIAL SUPERVISION OF 
 
 H. W. JOHNSTON, Ph.D., EDWARD CAPPS, Ph.D., 
 
 THE INDIANA UNIVERSITY THE UNIVERSITY OF OHIOAQO 
 
 No. 1. Lex De Imperio Yespasiani. By Fred B. R. Hellems, 
 Doctor of Philosophy of the University of Chicago ; 
 Professor of Latin in the University of Colorado, 50c. 
 
 No. 3. Contraction in the Case Forms of the Latin -io and ~ia 
 steins and deus, is, and idem. By Edgar Howard 
 Sturtevant, Doctor of Philosophy of the Uni- 
 versity of Chicago; Instructor in Latin in the 
 Indiana University 50c. 
 
 IN PRESS 
 
 No. 3. The Genitive of Talue in Latin. By Gordon J. 
 Laing, Doctor of Philosophy of the Johns Hopkins 
 University ; Instructor in Latin in the University 
 of Chicago 
 
THE 
 
 BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION ON 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PLAUTUS ON THE DRAMATIC 
 
 LITERATURE OF ENGLAND IN THE 
 
 SIXTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 A DISSERTATION 
 
 SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF ARTS. LITEEATURE, 
 AND SCIENCE OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO 
 
 IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 (DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH) 
 
 BY 
 
 MALCOLM WILLIAM WALLACE 
 
 PBOFEBSOB OF RHETORIC AND ENGLISH LITERATUBB IN BBLOIT COIiliEGS 
 
 CHICAGO 
 SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 
 1903 
 
;M 
 
 \.V^^ 
 
 COPYRiaHT, 1903, BY 
 SCOTT, PORESMAN AND COMPANY 
 
 TTPOORAFHY BY 
 KABSH, AITKKN <fc CUBTI8 COMPANY, CHICAGO 
 

 PEEFACE 
 
 The Bikthe of Hercules, which is preserved in a single 
 manuscript — British Museum MS., Add. 28722 — is now pub- 
 lished for the first time. I have attempted to follow the 
 manuscript copy accurately except in two particulars: the 
 punctuation has been modernized, and contracted words have 
 been written in full. Practically all cases of contracted words 
 occurring in the play together with their expanded forms, are 
 included in the following list : 
 
 y* — the, thee contentm* — contentment 
 
 y^ — that commaundem* — commaundemenb 
 
 w* — what sefuntes — seruauntes 
 
 yo' — your educacon — educacion 
 
 hono' — honour reputac'on — reputacion 
 
 w*"— with gefiall— generall 
 
 w** — which ifichantes — merchantes 
 
 m' — master .fite— parte 
 
 m"^ — mistres ^chance — perchance 
 
 should" — shoulders depture — departure 
 
 ord' — order ^swade — perswade 
 
 comend— commend ^happs — perhapps 
 
 corny tted— commytted ^fy tlie — perfy the 
 
 The spelling has been changed only to the- extent of insert- 
 ing the apostrophe in the expression ''I' faith". 
 
 The beginning of a new folio of the manuscript has been 
 indicated by a dagger. Original stage directions are preserved 
 in parentheses; others are enclosed in brackets. 
 
 The present publication of the play is made possible by the 
 courtesy of Professor F. I. Carpenter, of the University of 
 Chicago, who, while studying in the British Museum, examined 
 the manuscript, had a copy made, and ultimately gave it to the 
 present writer to edit. Professor Carpenter has extended his 
 courtesy to the reading of the proof of the play, and I am 
 further under obligation to him, as well as to Professor A. H. 
 
 125?44 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Tolman, of Chicago, for valuable suggestions in preparing the 
 Introduction. But my chiefest debt of gratitude is due Pro- 
 fessor John M. Manly, of Chicago. From the very beginning 
 of my work his advice and criticism have been of inestimable 
 value, and his unfailing kindness has ended only with the read- 
 ing of the final proof sheets. I can not adequately express my 
 grateful appreciation of his interest in my work. 
 
 Malcolm W. Wallace 
 Beloit, Wis., January 20, 1903. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Pagb 
 
 Introduction 
 
 Chapter I. — Sketch of the History of Early Classical 
 
 Study in England 7 
 
 Chapter II.— The Revival of the Study of Plautus . 11 
 Chapter III. — Early Dramatic Pieces Influenced by 
 
 Latin Comedy 28 
 
 Chapter IV. — The Development of Comedy ... 36 
 
 - Chapter V. — The Influence from Germany .... 45 
 
 Chapter VI.— The Influence from Italy 60 
 
 Chapter VII. — Shakspere's Predecessors .... 72 
 
 Chapter VIII.— The Last Decade of the Century . . 81 
 
 The Birthe of Hercules 97 
 
 Notes 167 
 
 Index 179 
 
or THE 
 
 V/NIVERSITY 
 
 -. OF 
 
 INTKODUCTION 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A SKETCH OF THE EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL STUDY IN 
 
 ENGLAND 
 
 The English universities of the Middle Ages knew very little 
 about the classic Latin authors. Theology, rhetoric, philos- 
 ophy, and canon and civil law were the subjects upon which 
 their efforts were concentrated, to the almost absolute exclusion 
 of the arts. Latin, to be sure, was the one language used in 
 the universities, both in text-books and disputations, but it was 
 the Latin of comparatively late Christian writers — a **barbarou8 
 jargon" which had traveled far from the standard of the time 
 of Tully. And yet the authors of the flowering time of Roman 
 literature were not entirely forgotten. As early as 1178 and 
 1180 we find English transcriptions of Terence^ — the work of 
 Henry of Winchester, and Benedict, Abbot of Peterborough — 
 and references to classic authors are frequent in the writings of 
 the monks. Hugh Pudsey, Archdeacon of Winchester and 
 Bishop of Durham, who died in 1195, bequeathed among other 
 books Tullius de Amicitia.'^ In 1248 the library of Glaston- 
 bury Abbey was the richest in England, and though its total 
 wealth consisted of only four hundred volumes^ it contained 
 copies of Livy, Sallust, Seneca, Tully de Senectute et Amicitia, 
 Vergil, Persius, and Claudian. But the monks did not study 
 the classical authors seriously, nor appreciate their literary 
 excellence, nor in any way attempt to make them models of 
 prose composition. ** A university education," Mr. H. E. D. 
 Blakiston tells US, "commenced at an early age with the acquisi- 
 tion of a working knowledge of Latin, the language of theology, 
 law, and science, in the ScJiools of Gra?nmar, where the text- 
 
 » Not translations, however, as Reinhardstoettner supposes tliem to have been; 
 V. Plautus und Terenzund ihr Einflusz anf die spateren Litteraturen, I, p. 74. 
 
 a Wills and Inventories (Surtees Society, 1835), p. 4. 
 
 a Catalogi Veteres Librorum Ecclesiae Oatkedralis Dunelmensis (Surtees Soci- 
 ety, 1838). 
 
8 TEE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 books used were Terence and Priscian."^ "Though some 
 attempts were made to understand Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic 
 writings, there was during this period nothing resembling the 
 modern study of literature known as classical scholarship. The 
 schoolmen wrote in a barbarous jargon of Latin. "^ 
 
 About the close of the thirteenth century the universities 
 arrived at a condition of popularity and success which was at 
 that time quite unprecedented. Although the statement of 
 
 ^Archbishop Fitz-Ralph of Armagh made before the Consistory 
 at Avignon in 1357 that in his days there had been as many as 
 
 ywthirty thousand students at Oxford, can not be taken seriously, 
 as Jusserand takes it,^ there is no doubt that at that institution 
 alone there were about three thousand in attendance. But 
 the decline of this external prosperity was rapid. When 
 Archbishop Fitz-Ralph, in addressing the Consistory of Avignon, 
 referred to the condition of Oxford, he declared that not more 
 than six hundred students were in attendance at that time. 
 The school program of the Middle Ages had worn itself out, 
 and as yet there was no awakening to other possible sources of 
 inspiration. The catalogue of Oriel College Library in 1375* 
 contains not a single reference to a Latin classic, the whole list 
 being made up of works on Logic, Philosophy, Civil Law, 
 Canon Law, Theology, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, etc. When toward 
 the close of the fourteenth century, Winchester College and 
 New College, Oxford, were founded by William de Wykeham, 
 even though the purpose of the founder was to make possible 
 
 ,full and free scholarship, and though "perfection is the note of 
 his whole design," nevertheless the authors and subjects pre- 
 scribed were those with which the schoolmen had long been 
 familiar, and we find no approach whatever to real classical 
 study. 
 
 During the fifteenth century, too, until near its close, 
 scholarship was at an exceedingly low ebb. From the date 
 of the Black Death till the Renaissance of learning — almost 
 the beginning of the sixteenth century — the condition of 
 the universities continued to grow worse. In the eyes of 
 continental scholars, England was a realm hopelessly given 
 
 1 Social England, ed. H. D. Traill, Vol. II, p. 65. 
 
 * Ibid., -p. 72. 
 
 ' Le Ththtre en Angleterre, p. 2. 
 
 * Collectanea, I, C. R. L. Fletcher ed. (Ox. Hist. Soc, 1885).. 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL STUDY IN ENGLAND 9 
 
 over to the powers of ignorance and barbarism. Voigt says : 
 England war in den Augen des schbngeistigen Italieners 
 eine kummerische Ecke der hetuohnteii Welt in luelcher krasse 
 Unwisseiiheit und sinnverwirrende Scholastik mit einandcr um 
 den Preis der Verjinsterung kdmpften} The gloom which 
 enshrouds the first half of the century would be almost absolute 
 were it not for the story of the life of the good Duke 
 ' Humphrey of Gloucester — the only Maecenas of his age. He 
 was the first Englishman to catch the real spirit of the 
 Renaissance, and his enthusiasm for learning and literature 
 displayed itself as well in the patronage of almost every man of 
 letters of the time as in his untiring collection of manuscripts. 
 The Eev. Henry Anstey, in his summary of Humphrey's contri- 
 butions to the University of Oxford, says : '* A very large propor- 
 tion are theological works with a less number of mathematical, 
 medical, and astronomical. Not a few copies of parts of 
 /Aristotle (translations it would appear), but of other classical 
 authors only a few. We find, however, copies of Cicero, 
 Seneca, Cato moralizatuSy Pliny, Quintilian ; one copy of Plato, 
 one of Suetonius, one of Aeschines, one of Livy, one of Ovid; 
 of Greek classics none besides Aeschines, unless we except the 
 portions of Aristotle and the copy of Plato, and these were 
 probably Latin translations. .It is surprising to find that 
 English chronicles are almost unrepresented (Capgrave and the 
 Polychronicon being the only specimens), and that of the works 
 I of Petrarch and Boccaccio there are very numerous copies, and 
 of Dante more than one."^ Humphrey of Gloucester's 
 influence in popularizing a knowledge of the classic wTiters 
 can hardly be overestimated. The Renaissance in France 
 preceded that in England by at least half a century, and 
 translations of the classics into the French tongue had conse- 
 <][uently been numerous. The Regent Duke of Bedford sent 
 many of these translations to Humphrey, and in these French 
 versions great numbers of Englishmen made their first acquaint- 
 ance with Cicero and Vergil. Not that England was entirely 
 lacking in copies of the great Latin authors in the original. 
 Chaucer obviously knew Vergil and Ovid well and had some 
 acquaintance with other classical writers. Works by Ovid, 
 
 1 Die Wiederhelebung des klassischen Alterthums, Oder das erste Jahrhundert des 
 Bumaniamus, Vol. II, p. 248. 
 
 *Munimenta Academica {2 Y0\&.; Lond.,1868; The Rev. Henry Anstey ed.)i RoUa 
 Vol. I, pp. lii-liiL The Catalogue is in Vol. II, pp. 758+. 
 
10 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Terence, Claudian, Juvenal, Lucian, Horace, Statins, Vergil, 
 Tally, and Quint ilian were owned by the monks of Durham in 
 1416,^ but they were little read, and that only by a few savants, 
 ^ A comparatively large number of Englishmen knew French, 
 however,^ and besides it was an easy matter to secure English 
 translations of these French versions. Before the year 1420, 
 for example, Laurent Premierfait had translated into French the 
 De Senectute and De Amicitia of Cicero; these were trans- 
 lated into English by William Botoner and John Tiptoft, Earl 
 of Worcester, and formed one of the early issues of Caxton's 
 press, being printed in 1481. From a French version Caxton 
 also translated and printed the Aeneidy the modest preface of 
 (which did not save it from the scorn of Gawain Douglas, when, 
 in 1513, he produced his own rendering, and declared Caxton's 
 to bear a very slight resemblance to its original — '*na mare 
 like than the Devil and Sanct Austin." 
 
 It is easy, however, to overestimate the importance of these 
 Ifirst signs of better things to come. The number of classics 
 printed in England previous to 1540 is remarkably small.* Not 
 till 1521 were Greek characters used in any book printed in 
 England. A catalogue of the library of the University of 
 Cambridge about the year 1475 reveals **the entire absence of 
 Greek authors, and the almost equally entire absence of all 
 that in the eyes of the classical scholar gives its value to the 
 Latin literature."* The inventory of implements and books of 
 the College of Auckland, upon the accession of William 
 Thomeson to the deanery in 1498, contains no single classic 
 Latin author. This was **the school in which many of the 
 young nobility and gentry of the north of England were 
 educated."^ Even more striking is the fact that in the reign 
 of Henry VII. Caius Auberinus, an Italian, was employed 
 by the University of Cambridge to compose the public orations 
 and epistles, no one resident in the university being capable of 
 performing this task. Auberinus was also employed to teach 
 
 1 Catalogi Veteres LibrorumEcclesiae Dunelmensis (Surtees Society, 1838), pp. 108-9. 
 
 » For a statiite(uiidated, but probably of the thirteenth century), providing that 
 undergraduates of Oxford be taught to construe both in English and French, see 
 Munimenta Academica, Vol. II, p. 438. 
 
 .. » For the list, v. Warton, History of English Poetry, ed. Hazlitt, III, p. 114. 
 
 * J. Bass Mullinger, The University of Cambridge, p. 323. 
 
 » Implementa Collegii de Auckland Episcopi, p. 101; ( Wills and Inventories, Sur- 
 tees Society, 1835). 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL'* STUDY IN ENGLAND 11 
 
 Terence in the public schools.^ But the Humanistic movement 
 in Italy was forcing itself more and more upon the attention of 
 Englishmen, and pilgrimages to the fountainhead of knowledge 
 had begun before the close of the century. One of the first 
 students thus to seek abroad what his own land denied to him 
 was John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, who, after a prolonged 
 absence, returned to England, and at his death bequeathed to 
 his old college, Balliol, over two hundred manuscripts which he 
 had acquired. William Gray, Robert Flemmyng, John Phrea (or 
 Free) , and William Sellyng, all of whom afterwards received high 
 ecclesiastical preferment in England, studied for some years in 
 Italy, and made valuable manuscript collections, which on 
 their return they presented to Oxford and Cambridge. 
 
 About 1475, Vitelli, the first Greek lecturer at Oxford, 
 was appointed, and though he does not seem to have been in 
 any sense a profound scholar nor to have made any particular 
 impression upon the students of that institution, his appoint- 
 ment marks the beginning of a revolution in thought in Eng- 
 land. He remained at Oxford till 1489, when he was called to 
 the University of Paris. In the meantime one of his students, 
 William Grocyn, had left Oxford in 1488 in order to spend 
 some time under the learned Greeks settled in Italy. He 
 returned in 1491, and though he received no ofiicial appoint- 
 ment, began at once to teach Greek. There can be little 
 doubt that to him is due the first systematic teaching of that 
 language in England. The question of priority is dealt with 
 by Burrows in his Memoir of William Grocyn: "George Lily 
 [in his Virorum aliquot in Britannia . . . Elogia] informs us 
 that he (Grocyn) was *the first to introduce the rudiments of 
 the Greek and Latin tongues into Britain, and soon devoted 
 himself more completely to those studies in Italy under 
 Demetrius Chalcondyles and Politian.' Of course he means 
 classical Latin. . . . There can be no reasonable doubt of this 
 premiership."^ 
 
 The struggles of the early Humanists with poverty, 
 ignorance, and discouragements of all kinds are almost 
 incredible, and monuments of the time, like the begging 
 letters of Erasmus, speak only too eloquently of the conditions 
 in the midst of which these pioneers of learning had to 
 
 1 Warton, Op. cit. Vol. Ill, p. 332. 
 
 a Collectanea, II, p. 337. (Ox. Hist. Soc, VoL XVI.) 
 
12 THE BIltTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 struggle. Almost without exception they united a religious 
 purpose to the more purely Humanistic one, and as a natural 
 consequence the emphasis was placed on Greek rather than 
 Latin. On it their enthusiasm was lavished, and positive 
 direct information regarding the progress of the study of 
 [classical Latin during the first two decades of the sixteenth 
 century is a little difficult to come at. But we know at least 
 that the great Latin authors were once more established in the 
 seats of honor in the schools and universities. In the statutes 
 of Brasenose College, issued in 1517, provision is made for the 
 teaching of all the chief Greek and Latin classics.^ In the 
 statutes of Corpus Christi, founded in the same year, provision 
 is made for the appointment of a public lecturer in Greek, 
 whose work is evidently considered of the highest impor- 
 tance. An outline of the work to be given by the professor 
 of Latin is also furnished us, and this contains the names of 
 all the greatest classical authors.* To extirpate barbarism — 
 larhariem a nosfro alveario extirpet — is one of the duties 
 explicitly appointed to him. The establishment of this school 
 — it was founded by Fox, Bishop of Winchester — with its high 
 ideals of genuine classical scholarship is characterized by 
 Warton as **the first conspicuous instance of an attempt to 
 depart from the narrow plan of education which had hitherto 
 been held sacred in the universities of England."^ 
 
 The development of higher education in England during the 
 next twenty years is perhaps unparalleled. Not that all 
 difficulties had been smoothed away. On the contrary the 
 work of Erasmus, More, and the whole band of Humanists 
 met with the most bitter opposition at every step.* At 
 Cambridge the most intense dislike of the innovations of "the 
 Greeks" prevailed, while Oxford stood divided against itself. 
 Erasmus — Graeculus iste — ^lectured on Greek grammar to empty 
 benches. But intense as the opposition was, it betokened 
 merely the natural reaction of the conservative elements. 
 Luckily for the cause of education, Cardinal Wolsey threw 
 himself heart and soul into the work of carrying out the ideas 
 of the reformers. New colleges were built, chairs in Greek 
 
 1 H. C. Maxwell Lyte, History of the University of Oxford, p. 407. 
 
 2 The History of Corpus Christi College, Fowler, p. 38, (Ox. Hist. Soc.,Vol. XXV). 
 s Hist. Eng. Poet., Vol. IV, p. 2. 
 
 * On this phase of the subject see the oi)eniiig pages of Warton's Hist. Eng. 
 Poet, Vol. IV. 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL STUDY IN ENGLAND 13 
 
 and Latin were established and heavily endowed in older 
 institutions, and the mediaeval philosophy and logic were 
 gradually but surely eliminated from the curricula. Nor was 
 ,the royal influence less potent. Henry had no lasting, clear- 
 sighted concern for the interests of the new learning, but at 
 least spasmodically he gave it material assistance. In 1524 he 
 called Robert Wakefield, the celebrated linguist, who was then 
 lecturing at Tubingen, to give courses at Cambridge, deploring 
 at the same time the total ignorance of both the clergy and the 
 universities in the ancient languages. In 1535, Richard Layton 
 and John ap Rice were sent by Cromwell to inquire into the 
 condition of things at Oxford. They were invested with 
 considerable authority, and they exercised it for the benefit of 
 the new classical study. *'We have sett Dunce [Duns Scotus] 
 in Bocardo," Layton wrote to Cromwell, **and have utterly 
 banished hym Oxforde for ever with all his blinde glosses, and 
 is nowe made a comon servant to evere man, faste nailede up 
 upon postes in all comon howses of easement: id quod oculis 
 meis vidi."^ 
 
 Nothing illustrates more clearly the essentially popular 
 icharacter of the movement we are considering than the estab- 
 lishment of grammar schools throughout the country. From 
 1503 till the time of the Reformation more of these schools 
 were established and endowed than there had been during the 
 preceding three hundred years.* The most noted was that 
 (founded by Colet in St. Paul's churchyard, of which Lily was 
 formally appointed head-master in 1512, though he had 
 probably been teaching its students for some years before this 
 date. That the general standard set up by Colet approached the 
 high mark of excellence which the Humanists set before them- 
 selves in the matter of university reforms, is seen by a glance 
 at the statutes of the school: *'As touching in this scole what 
 shall be taught of the maisters and learned of the scolers it 
 passeth my witte to devyse and determyne in particular, but in 
 general to speake and sume what to saye my mynde I would 
 they were taught always in good literature bothe Laten and 
 Greke, and good autors such as have the verrye Romayne 
 eloquence joyned with wisdom. ..." And again: *'A11 
 Barbary, all corruption, all Laten adulterate which ignorant 
 
 1 See article " Layton" (Richard) in Die. Nat. Biog. 
 « Warton, Op. ciL, Vol. IV, p. 1. 
 
14 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 blinde foles brought into this worlde and with the same hath 
 dystained and poysonyd the olde laten speche and the veraye 
 Komayne Tongue which in the tyme of Tully and Salust, and 
 Virgin, and Terence, was usid, whiche also Sainte Jerome and 
 Sainte Ambrose and Saint Austen and many holy Doctors 
 lernid in theyre tymes. I saye that fylthines and all suche 
 abusion whiche the later blynde woilde brought in whiche more 
 I rather may be called blotterature than Litterature, I utterly 
 abannyshe and exclude out of this Scole, and charge the maisters 
 that they teache alweye that is beste, and instruct the Children 
 in Greke and redynge Laten in redynge unto them suche 
 autors that hathe with wisdome joyned the pure chaste 
 Eloquence."^ 
 
 Lily was one of the most distinguished scholars of the 
 ; period, being unsurpassed at this time unless possibly by 
 Grocyn and Colet. He had studied at Ehodes, and later in 
 Italy under Sulpitius and Pomponius Laetus, and at length, a 
 finished classical scholar, he returned to England to become the 
 ^ first teacher of Greek in an English grammar school. The 
 institution soon became famous under his direction, and at his 
 death in 1532 he was succeeded by his son-in-law, John 
 •Eightwise, author of the tragedy of **Dido," who had been 
 second master since 1517. By their enthusiasm and entire 
 devotion to the cause of learning many men of less solid 
 scholarship than Lily became famous as teachers of the 
 classical languages in others of these early foundations, such 
 as Winchester, Eton, and Wolsey's school at Ipswich, and a 
 generous rivalry soon contributed to a dissemination among all 
 classes of a knowledge of the newly found treasures of 
 literature. 
 
 If the success which had come to crown the efforts of the 
 educational reformers had been sudden and almost spectacular 
 in character, its decline was no less swift and striking. 
 The causes usually assigned to this downfall are three. The 
 , first temptation for scholars to withdraw their attention from 
 ' the legitimate subjects of scholarship arose in connection with 
 the king's suit for divorce. The opinion of the universities 
 was demanded on the question, and this furnished a splendid 
 opportunity for those who had been masters of the old system 
 of logic and casuistry, and who had not yet been entirely won 
 
 1 statutes of St. Pauls School. V. Knight's Life of Colet, pp. 364-65. 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL STUDY IN ENGLAND 15 
 
 from their former idols, to return and revel in the exercises for 
 which they had been trained. Canon and civil law, which 
 had formerly occupied so important a place in school curricula, 
 were again called into requisition with all their opportunities 
 ,for metaphysical hair-splitting. During the protracted course 
 of the divorce suit many scholars devoted the greater part of 
 their time to such study. 
 
 The effect on learning of Henry's matrimonial difficulties 
 
 was unimportant, however, compared to that consequent 
 
 upon the suppression of fhe monasteries. Many years previous 
 
 to the issue of the final edict, the process of gradual confiscation 
 
 had begun, Wolsey having successfully manipulated a scheme 
 
 whereby the revenue of individual houses was diverted to the 
 
 cause of secular education. There can be no doubt that these 
 
 first confiscations were, on the whole, of a highly beneficent 
 
 character. That the monasteries were too often the centres of 
 
 idleness, ignorance, and immorality there can be no denying.^ 
 
 But they had been for many years the great centres of popular 
 
 education, and if the instruction they gave left much to be 
 
 desired, it was infinitely preferable to the total darkness in which 
 
 many districts were plunged upon their suppression. A universal 
 
 wail went up from all sections of the country, in which were 
 
 mingled commiseration for the wretchedness which had come 
 
 upon monks and nuns, and sorrow for the extinguishing of the 
 
 only light which shone in upon the dense ignorance of the 
 
 provinces. Fuller tells us: "There was now (1546) a general 
 
 ..decay of students, no college having more scholars therein than 
 
 hardly those of the foundation ; no volunteers at all, and only 
 
 persons pressed, in a manner, by their places to reside. Indeed 
 
 on the fall of abbeys fell the heart of all scholars fearing the 
 
 ruin of learning."^ Naturally the blow fell with much greater 
 
 force on the lower classes, for among those in high life^ the 
 
 custom of engaging tutors to attend to the education of their 
 
 children had become common. 
 
 The last and greatest of the causes for the decay of learn- 
 ing was really an outgrowth of the Renaissance itself, viz., 
 
 1 See for example the " Fm^a^ion 0/ iAg Diocese of Norwich,'' 1492-1533; passim 
 (Camden Society, 1888). 
 
 2 History of the University of Cambridge, p. 173. 
 
 3 An interesting account of what this instruction consisted in, is given in some 
 letters addressed to Cromwell by the tutor of his son. V. Craik, Literature and 
 Learning in England, Vol. II, p. 209 K. 
 
16 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 the Reformation. When once the new movement had laid 
 its all-powerful grasp on the nation it seemed to engross the 
 thoughts of men to the exclusion of all other interests. Many 
 scholars turned aside from purely literary researches to give 
 their whole attention to theology and polemics, to the study 
 of church history and the origins of Christianity. This was 
 followed by a growing contempt for all secular knowledge. 
 Academic degrees were contemned as being pernicious, and not 
 in accordance with the word of God. Exhibitions and schol- 
 arships were cut down, and somewhat later Oxford was stripped 
 by religious zealots of the magnificent collection of manu- 
 scripts which had been presented by Humphrey of Gloucester. 
 Under Sir Thomas Smith and Sir John Cheke — their knight- 
 hood dates from a period after they had severed their connec- 
 tion with the university — Cambridge had become famous for 
 Greek scholarship throughout Europe. When they had taken 
 their departure, however, the reputation of this university sank 
 quickly and hopelessly also. 
 
 On the accession of Edward VI. the condition of affairs 
 became speedily worse. The rapacity of the courtiers robbed 
 the universities of their endowments, so that scholarships were 
 almost unknown, and the clergy were likewise robbed of their 
 revenues, learning becoming more and more generally dis- 
 credited. Latimer's lament over the decay of divinity went 
 forth accompanied by Roger Ascham's lament over the decline 
 of true scholarship and the ruin of grammar schools through- 
 out England, coupled with his bitter prediction of the extinc- 
 tion of the universities in the near future. 
 
 Ascham's prediction did not receive literal fulfilment, but 
 it was at least true that the universities did not really rally 
 before the end of the century. This fact is likely to be for- 
 gotten when one thinks of the attention which was given to Latin 
 and Greek by Lady Jane Grey, Queen Elizabeth and the court 
 circle, not to mention others of the large number of brilliant 
 women who distinguished themselves as classical students. 
 The truth is, however, that this enthusiasm was in part at 
 'least a fad, and its influence not of a kind to affect popular 
 education in the least, nor even to inspire the universities. 
 Strype's Annals and Ecclesiastical Memoirs bristle with reitera- 
 tions of the statement that the ancient glory of the universities 
 had departed. In 1550 he tells us that **the universities 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL STUDY IN ENGLAND 17 
 
 were but in a sorry declining condition, occasioned by the 
 discouragements given to learning, the laity laying hold of the 
 spiritual preferments so much as they did, designed and 
 appointed for the reward and maintenance of the clergy."^ In 
 ,1553 Latimer estimated that there were then ten thousand stu- 
 dents less in England than there were twenty years before. 
 Speaking of Richard Cheney, B.D., consecrated Bishop of 
 Gloucester, April 19, 1562, Strype says; "He seemed to 
 be well instructed in Greek literature, which was rare in those 
 days."* He reports in these terms a speech made before the 
 queen by Thomas Williams, speaker of the Lower House, on 
 January 15, 1562: "He took notice of the want of schools; 
 that at least an hundred were wanting in England, which 
 before this time had been [being destroyed I suppose he meant] 
 by the dissolution of monasteries and religious houses, frater- 
 nities and colleges. "^ Strype also speaks of the decay of learning 
 in general, especially in the universities, and mentions the fact 
 that the great market towns were without schools or preachers. 
 He quotes from James Pilkington, Bishop of Winchester, regard- 
 ing the small number of scholars in the universities and their 
 general wretched condition.* In 1568 the queen encouraged 
 the universities to study divinity, "which study had decayed 
 owing to laymen having swallowed up ecclesiastical places and 
 preferments."^ Gabriel Harvey frequently rails against the 
 condition of the universities and the character of the students 
 in his day. In a letter** to Dr. Young, master of Pembroke 
 Hall, and of date November 1, 1573, he says: "Na I think 
 verrely if sum miht have there wils thai shuld have nether 
 Greek nor Latin nor ani thing els red unto them. . . . Thus 
 within a few years al shuld be turnid topset tirvi; and Pem- 
 brook Hal shuld set forth as mani good schollars as it hath 
 now good students; and that is as few, I heleev as ever you 
 Jcnetu in the hows sins you were first fellow,''^ It is only fair to 
 add that he goes on to speak of the "great and notable schol- 
 lars" which the Hall had produced "within this twenti years or 
 there about." 
 
 1 Ecclesiastical Memoirs, Pt. I, p. 404, 
 > Annals, Vol. I, p. 418. 
 « Annals, Vol. I, p. 437. 
 
 * Annals, Vol. I, p. 537. 
 
 ^ Annals, Vol. IV, p. 263. 
 
 • Letter Book of Gabriel Harvey, pp. 52-53 (Camden Society, 1884). 
 
18 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Until the end of the century political domination rendered 
 futile all strivings toward reform on the part of the univer- 
 sities. The influence exercised by Leicester, who, from 1565 
 to 1588, was Chancellor of Oxford, was far from beneficent 
 —"an influence," Huber terms it, ^'shackled by no law, 
 no right, no moral consideration, but determined simply by 
 his own personal interests. ... As soon as he recognized 
 in the university a useful tool he used it unscrupulously. "^ 
 But whatever causes conspired to produce such unfortunate 
 effects, their dominion was absolute, and prevailed till the 
 beginning of the next century. Another proof of the low 
 esteem in which Englishmen held their own educational insti- 
 tutions is seen in the exodus of students at this period to the 
 continental universities. To such proportions had this evil 
 grown that it was at length made the subject of legislation. 
 In a letter dated December 15, 1580, written by the lords and 
 others of the council to William Chaderton, Lord Bishop of 
 Chester, attention is called to the great harm resulting to her 
 Majesty's dominions from this practice, i.e., "the education of 
 great number of yonge gentlemen and other her subjects in the 
 partes beyond the sea's, "^ and stringent measures for its future 
 prevention or diminution were adopted. The justifiable pride 
 which England had felt in her national seats of learning in the 
 days of Grocyn and Colet, of Lily and Linacre, of More and 
 Erasmus, and later when Cheke and Smith had made Cam- 
 bridge famous in the world of scholars, seemed to have become 
 a tradition from the distant past, and contemporary evidence 
 is practically unanimous to the effect that an ardent spirit of 
 .study and research was entirely lacking in the universities even 
 down to the close of the century. 
 
 The conclusion to which the foregoing paragraphs point is 
 of interest in a study of the Kenaissance movement in England. 
 Briefly summed up, the situation is as follows : After a short 
 period of almost phenomenal development the English univer- 
 sities and secondary schools entered upon a period of decline, 
 dating from the decade subsequent to the end of the first 
 quarter of the sixteenth century. By the middle of the 
 century the universities were in "a sorry declining condition," 
 
 1 Huber: Die Englische Universitaten. Translated by Francis W. Newman, 
 Vol. I, p. 351. On the general subject of the decline of the universities till the end 
 of the century, see Vol. I, Chap. VIII, passiryi. 
 
 a Desiderata Curiosa—'Pecli, Lib. Ill, 99. 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF CLASSICAL STUDY IN ENGLAND 1^ 
 
 and it was only toward the close of Elizabeth's reign that the 
 new learning firmly reestablished itself. Curiously enough this 
 pause in the progress of scholarship and education coincides 
 chronologically — at least till the beginning of the last quarter 
 of the century — with a pause in the literary development which 
 had been marked by the work of Wyatt and Surrey. From 
 the time when they ceased to write until Lyly began to produce 
 his plays, we have no great achievement in literature with the 
 exception of the Mirror for Magistrates^ for the principal 
 contributors to TotteVs Miscellany had been long dead when it 
 was published in 1557, and the plays which belong to this 
 j)eriod are of much greater interest historically than as pure 
 literature. In other words, the Renaissance of learning and 
 literature in England during the early sixteenth century died 
 /out, and it was a new movement, another renaissance, and due 
 at least in part to other causes, which was rendered illustrious 
 by such names as those of the university wits, of Jonson, and 
 of Shakspere. In the earlier literary movement the influence 
 of Italian literature dominated ; in the later movement it was 
 still potent though by no means supreme. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE BEVIVAL OP THE STUDY OF PLAUTUS 
 
 When we consider the history of the study of Plautua 
 through the Middle Ages side by side with that of the study of 
 Terence, a rather peculiar phenomenon is presented. The latter 
 early became one of the names most frequently met with in 
 school curricula ; at no time during the centuries of compara- 
 tive darkness was he entirely forgotten. The purity and pro- 
 priety of his language made him a favorite in the schools ; and 
 when from a moral point of view his works were objection- 
 able, attempts were made to obviate this difficulty, e.g., the 
 rifacimenti of Hrotsvitha, the nun of Gandersheim, in the 
 tenth century. Terence won fame for another reason also : he 
 was prized as a great teacher of mankind, was ranked with the 
 philosophers, and his sententious bits of wisdom were as often 
 ! quoted in the Middle Ages as were the epigrams of Pope by a 
 later generation. It was for this reason that Chasles declares 
 Terence to have been so popular in France during the sixteenth 
 century. **// se mele aux recherches de V erudition un goUt qui 
 appartient a V adolescence des litteratures, le goilt de sentences.'*''^ 
 In England we have already noted the transcriptions of Henry 
 of Winchester, and Benedict of Peterborough; Madden tells 
 us that **no classic author is oftener quoted by monkish 
 writers, and in the British Museum alone there are above 
 thirty manuscript copies written between the tenth and fif- 
 teenth centuries."* 
 
 Very different was the fate of Plautus. In the third 
 century a comedy was written, called the Querolus — a sort of 
 continuation of the Aulularia, — the son of Euclio, the miser, 
 being the central character. Throughout the Middle Ages this 
 work was very generally ascribed to Plautus, and in this con- 
 nection his name was more widely known than in any other. 
 In the beginning of the fifth century his works seem to have 
 
 » La Comidie en France au XVI"^ SQcle, p. 10. Compare the English books of 
 selections compiled by Udall and others somewhat later. 
 > Warton, Hist. Eng. Poet., n, p. 217. 
 
 20 
 
THE REVIVAL OF THE STUDY OF PLAUTUS 21 
 
 been still generally read. Even Jerome tells us how he would 
 
 f turn to Plautus after spending long nights in bemoaning the 
 wickedness of his life. But the difficulty of the language pre- 
 vented his comedies from obtaining a firm foothold in the 
 schools, and in the course of time the last twelve plays were 
 lost. About the close of the tenth century Ratherius men- 
 tions the Persa, and from that time till the Renaissance there 
 is no evidence of anyone having read these last dramas. 
 The first sign of a renewal of interest is to be found in two 
 plays, written by Vital de Blois, not later than the middle of 
 the twelfth century. The first of these was the Aulularia — an 
 adaptation of the Querolus, which latter play he supposed to be 
 by Plautus; the second, which treats the Amphitryon story, 
 
 , was the Geta, the immediate source of which, however, was 
 probably some drama or story of the early centuries of the 
 Christian era.^ Petrarch and the band of Renaissance scholars 
 
 ^under whom the great awakening movement began in Italy 
 were enthusiastic students of Plautus, though as yet only the 
 first eight comedies were accessible. But in 1427 Kikolaus 
 Cusanus brought from Germany to Rome a manuscript which 
 had long been coveted by the Italian Humanists, and which 
 contained the tweWe long-lost comedies of Plautus. This 
 event — one of the most important and remarkable in the whole 
 history of the Humanistic movement — gave a strong impulse 
 to classical study, especially to that of Plautus. Study 
 and text-criticism of his works became general throughout 
 Italy, and scholars earned reputations for their knowledge of 
 Plautus alone, and for their ingenuity in supplying the numer- 
 ous and extensive lacunae in the plays. Particularly famous in 
 this connection were Codrus (1446-1500), who supplied the 
 
 t missing scenes of the Aulularia, and Hermolaus Barbarus 
 (1454-1494), who performed a similar service for the Amphi- 
 truo^ The re-staging of the Roman comedies proceeded much 
 more slowly. The Middle Ages had not only allowed the 
 ancient dramatic works to fall into oblivion ; they had forgot- 
 ten the very nature of a drama, and "tragedy" and **comedy" 
 had come to mean two great divisions of literature rather than 
 particular species. The general conception of comedy is illus- 
 
 » V. Cloetta: Beitriige zur Litteraturgeschichte des Mittelalters, pp. 68-71 fl. 
 » On this whole subject of Plautus revival in Italy v. Creizenach, Oeichichte des 
 Neueren Drama$, I, 573 ff. 
 
22 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 , trated by Dante's definition prefixed to the Divina Commedia. 
 Regarding the putting of plays on the boards the most absurd 
 notions prevailed.* But the revival of interest in literary study 
 of the plays necessarily carried with it a revival of interest in 
 scenic representations. To Pomponio Leto, a citizen of Rome, 
 is generally ascribed the honor of having first in his day brought 
 upon the stage the works of Plautus and Terence, as well as of 
 modern writers. In 1484 a historical drama was presented in 
 the Vatican in the presence of the pope and the cardinals, and we 
 hear of a representation of the Aulularia on the Quirinal about 
 the same time. Nor was the enthusiasm confined to Rome. 
 At Ferrara, in 1486, a translation of the Menaechmi was pre- 
 sented at the royal palace, Duke Ercole I. being himself the 
 author of the translation. In 1487 and 1491 similar representa- 
 tions of the Ampliitruo were given. But in spite of this enthu- 
 siasm Rome contained no permanent theatre in the year 1492. '^ 
 In England the revival of interest in the works of the Latin 
 dramatists began, of course, at a much later date. One of 
 the earliest references to Plautus in the works of an Eng- 
 lish author is found in Skelton, who from his youth had 
 been a close student of the classics and of current French 
 literature. In 1490, Caxton, in the preface to The Bohe of 
 Eneydos compyled hy Vyrgyle, says in reference to Skelton: 
 **He hath late translated the epystlys of Tulle and the boke of 
 dy adorns syculus, and diverse other werkes oute of latyn in to 
 Englysshe, not in rude and olde langage but in polysshed and 
 ornate termes craftely, as he that hath redde vyrgyle, ovyde, 
 tullye, and all the other noble poetes and oratours, to me 
 unknowen."'' In his SpeJce, Parrot Skelton is describing the 
 change that has recently come over the schools : 
 
 In Accademia Parrot dare no probleme kepe • 
 
 For Greece fari so occupyeth the chayre, 
 That Latinum fari may fall to rest and slepe, 
 
 And Syllogisari was drowned at Sturbrydge fayre, 
 
 but a few lines farther on he tells us : 
 
 ^ Plauti in his comedies a chyld shall now reherse.* 
 Skelton has one other reference to Plautus, viz. in his 
 
 1 V. Cloetta, Op. cit., I, pp. 2, 3, 4 et passim, and Crelzenacli in his introduction. 
 9 Klein, Geschichte des Dramas, Bd. IV, pp. 248-251. 
 
 3 Quoted by Dyce in his edition of The Poetical Works of Skelton, Vol. I, xL 
 * Dyce's edition, Vol. II, 1. 181. 
 
THE REVIVAL OF THE STUDY OF PLAUTUS 23 
 
 Garlande of Laurelh It occurs in a list of the *'poetis laureat 
 of many dyverse nacyons" amongst whom he mentions 
 
 j Mayster Terence, the famous comicar, 
 
 ' With Plautus that wrote full many a comody.* 
 
 Of neither of these poems has the date been accurately 
 ^determined, but the appearance of both was probably anterior 
 to 1520. More's Utopia (1515-1516) contains a reference to 
 the staging of Plautus's plays.^ That Plautus had already 
 become one of the chief Latin text-books in the universities we 
 know from several sources. The statutes of Brasenose College 
 issued in June, 1517, include both Plautus and Terence in the 
 list of Latin classics for the teaching of which provision is 
 made.' The statutes of Corpus Christi College, founded in 
 the same year, make similar provisioa for the teaching of 
 Plautus and Terence.* In 1520 Linacre made a catalogue of 
 the books in the library of his friend Grocyn, who had died in 
 the preceding year, and in this list we find the entry '*Comedie 
 Plauti, p. in pr.'"^ Another list, "svritten on a small piece of 
 paper, and in a different hand, is also preserved, which Burrows 
 surmises is that of books lent to different people or colleges. 
 On this list the name of Plautus stands first.** In this same 
 year — 1520 — an event took place which puts it beyond question 
 that Plautus had been well known to English students for some 
 time, viz., the staging of one of his plays with great splendor, 
 as part of the entertainment of the French hostages then in 
 England. It was probably given in Latin, but unfortunately 
 very little information has come down to us regarding the event. 
 .Holinshed thus describes it: *'The king used familiarlie these 
 four hostages and on the seventh dale of maie prepared a 
 disguising, and caused his great chamber at Greenwich to 
 be staged, and great lights to be set on pillors that were gilt, 
 with basons gilt, and the roofe was covered with blue sattin, 
 set full of presses of fine gold and flowers. . . . Into this 
 came the king, and the queene, with the hostages, and there 
 was a goodlie comedie of Plautus plaied."^ This is the only 
 
 1 Dyce's edition, Vol. 1, 11. 353-54. 
 
 ' V. p. 25 of the present study. 
 
 » H. C. Maxwell Lyte, History of the University of Oxford, p. 407. 
 
 < Fowler, The History of Corpus Christi Coll., p. 39 (Ox. Hist. Soc, xxv). 
 
 'Burrows, Collectanea, II, Pt. V, p. 320 (Ox. Hist. Soc, xvi). 
 
 « Op. cit., p. 324. 
 
 T Hollnshed's Chronicles, Vol. Ill, p. 835. 
 
24 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 account I have found of the staging of a play of Plautus 
 during the first half of the century,* though we may pretty 
 certainly conclude that such representations and those of other 
 plays modeled on Roman comedy were common in the schools 
 and universities throughout the period.^ 
 
 Another example of the importance which was beginning to 
 attach to Plautus in the schools is given us by Fox in his 
 account of the life of Robert Barnes, who suffered martyrdom 
 in 1540. He was an Augustinian friar of Cambridge, then a 
 student at Louvain, and finally returned to Cambridge, where 
 he was made prior of the house. *'At that time the knowledge 
 of good letters was scarcely entred into the universitie, all 
 things being full of rudeness and barbaritie, saving in very few 
 which were privie and secret. Whereupon Barns, having 
 .some feeling of better learning and authors, began in his house 
 to read Terence, Plautus, and Cicero, so that what with his 
 Industrie, pains, and labour, and with the help of Thomas 
 Parnel, his scholer, whom he brought from Lovain with him, 
 reading Copia verhorum et rerum^ he caused the house shortly to 
 flourish with good letters, and made a great part of the house 
 learned (which before were drowned in barbarous rudeness)."* 
 
 The first translation of any part of Plautus's comedies which 
 I have met is in Sir Thomas Elyot's magnum opus — The BoJce 
 named the Governour^ which was published in 1531. The 
 author is making a general defence of poets, and in particular 
 he wishes to show "that by comedies good counsaile is 
 ministered." He translates ten lines from the Eunuchus of 
 Terence in defence of this position and then continues: '*But 
 nowe to come to other poetes what may be better saide than is 
 written by Plautus in his first comedie? 
 
 "Verily Vertue dothe all thinges excelle. 
 For if libertie, helthe, lyvyng and substance, Plautus, 
 
 Our countray, our parentes and children do well "^"^Hl^^turf^^' 
 It hapneth by vertue ; she doth all advance. 
 Vertue hath all things under govemaunce, 
 And in whom of vertue is founden great plentie, 
 Any thinge that is good may never be deintie."* 
 
 1 But see the reference to More's Utopia, p. 25 of the present study. 
 
 » Hazlitt's edition of Warton is wrong in giving the date of the above playoas 
 1528, and in this mistake has been foUowed by some later writers. V. Hist. Eng. 
 Poet., Vol. Ill, p. 289, and Vol. IV, p. 5. 
 
 s Fox's Acts and Monuments, Vol. II, p. 517, col. 3. 
 
 « The Qovemour, Vol. I, pp. 127-28. 
 
THE REVIVAL OF THE STUDY OF PLAUTUS 25 
 
 The passage which Elyot has translated is from the Amphi- 
 4ruo of Plautus (Act II, Sc. ii, 11. 17-21) and reads as follows ; 
 
 Virtus praemium est optimum: 
 Virtus omnibus rebus anteitprofecto. 
 Libertas, salus, vita, res, parentes, 
 Patria et prognati tutantur, servantur: 
 
 Virtue omnia in se habet: omnia assunt bona quern penes est 
 virtus. 
 
 That the leaders in the educational revolution which was 
 being accomplished, knew Plautus well goes without saying. 
 ^ Latimer's sermons frequently allude to some character of his 
 comedies or quote some moral saying from them. Erasmus 
 seems to have been particularly fond of the Latin comedies, 
 and to have known them particularly well. I have selected 
 only a few passages bearing on this point, drawn chiefly from 
 his Colloquies: 
 
 I won't say drink and blow, which Plautus says is a hard matter 
 todo.» 
 
 In short I think your landlord was a greater miser than Euclio in 
 Plautus,^ (i.e. in the Aulularia). 
 
 Will you admit of Plautus for an author? Yes, if he says that 
 which is right.* 
 
 Sometimes with the old fellow in Plautus, they [old men] are 
 brought back to their horn-book again, to learn to spell their fortune 
 in love.* 
 
 Sir Thomas More's Utopia (1515-16) contains a reference 
 to the occasions *' when one of Plautus's comedies is on the 
 stage, and a company of servants are acting their parts,'* and 
 the reference is of such a nature that it would seem to justify 
 the conclusion that such an event was by no means uncommon 
 at that time. 
 
 Such examples prove beyond question that the scholars of 
 the period knew Plautus, and that very intimately. It is 
 perhaps worthy of note, because it is what we should not 
 expect, that Plautus is not mentioned in the list of books 
 
 » Erasmus's CoZiog-MW*. translation by N. Bailey, Vol. I, p. 427(Reeves and Turner, 
 Iiond., 1878). The remark is made by Tranio to Theuropides in the Moatellaria, Act 
 III, Sc. IL 
 
 * Ibid., The Wealthy Miser, Vol. II, p. 277. 
 
 »Ibid., The Epicurean, Vol. II, p. 328. 
 
 4 Praise of Folbj. Once an old man and twice a child, p. 18 (Reeves and Turner, 
 Xiond.). The reference is probably to Stalino in the Casina. 
 
2Q THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 comprising the library of the Earl of Kildare in 1526.^ But 
 the signilBicance of an omission of this sort may be very small 
 or nothing. Indeed we can hardly be far wrong in asserting 
 that in the schools and universities at this time no Latin 
 author, with the exception of Cicero, was so generally studied 
 and known. This conclusion is strengthened by a statement 
 such as that made by Ascham in a letter to Brandesby in 
 ^542-43. There had been no regular Greek professorship at 
 Cambridge previous to 1540, and Ascham had been appointed 
 by the university at a liberal salary to make up the deficiency 
 as well as possible, but in the above-mentioned year Henry 
 VIII. had established six Eegius Professorships, and Cambridge 
 acquired the services of men like Smith and Cheke, who were 
 to make famous throughout Europe the name of the university. 
 In the letter referred to, Ascham is describing and exulting over 
 the improved condition of things: '* Sophocles and Eurip- 
 ides," he declares, *'are now more familiar to us than Plautus 
 was when you were here. . . . There are more copies of 
 Isocrates to be met with now than there were of Terence then. 
 Yet we do not treat the Latin writers with contempt, but we 
 cherish the best of them who flourished in the golden age 
 of their literature. ' "* That Ascham himself knew Latin comedy 
 well we have abundant evidence in The Schoolmaster. Besides, 
 frequent references considerable space is devoted to a eulogy 
 of the works of Plautus, followed by a critical examination 
 and comparison of the comedies of both Plautus and Terence. 
 '*But surely," he says, **if judgment for the tongue and 
 direction for the manners be wisely joined with the diligent 
 reading of Plautus, then truly Plautus, for^that pureness of 
 the Latin tongue in Kome, when Kome did most flourish in 
 well-doing, and so thereby in well-speaking also, is such a 
 plentiful storehouse for common eloquence in mean matters, 
 and all private men's affairs, as the Latin tongue, for that 
 respect, hath not the like again. When I remember the 
 worthy time of Rome wherein Plautus did live, I must needs 
 honor the talk of that time, which we see Plautus doth use."* 
 Ascham then goes on to consider the matter, metre, and verse 
 of both comedy-writers, all of which he finds of a very 
 
 1 Retrospective Review, Vol. I (2d Series), p. 136. 
 
 2 Ascham, Works, Vol. I, Pt. I, xxxvii (Lond., 1865). 
 
 3 Ascham, Works, Vol. in, p. 345 ff. 
 
THE REVIVAL OF THE STUDY OF PLAUTUS 27 
 
 ordinary character. He commends Plautus chiefly for copious- 
 ness of language, and Terence for the purity and propriety of 
 his diction. 
 
 That Plautus continued to be read at the universities 
 during the succeeding days when learning had declined 
 we can hardly doubt, though our information regarding the 
 school curricula of this time is not very extensive.^ At 
 Cambridge his comedies must have claimed a considerable 
 share of attention, for in 1564, on the occasion of the Queen's 
 visit, the Aulularia was staged by students of the different 
 €olleges. *'This day at ix""® of the clock after supper was 
 plaid before her Ma"® in the King's Colledge Chapel upon 
 a scaffold Aulularia Plauti the partes whereof were chosen 
 through the whole university, King's Colledge being only 
 accepted."^ The works of the band of dramatists known as 
 the "university wits" make occasional mention of both the 
 Roman comedy-writers. From the time of the Renaissance 
 Plautus 's position as a classic of Latin literature has been 
 assured, and at no time since then have his works been in any 
 danger of undue neglect. 
 
 » In Gascolgne's Glasse of Government we have four boys just about to enter the 
 } university, and their previous study has been on the Colloquies of Erasmus, Cicero, 
 Terence, and Vergil. [ The Complete Poems of George Gascoigne, ed. Hazlitt, p. 14-15 
 (Roxburghe Library, 1870),] A list of the expenses of two boys at Eton College in 
 1560 has been preserved, and the books bought by them were "Lucian's Dialogues, 
 The Kynges Grammar, Marcus Tullius Offic, Fabulae Aesopi, Tullies Atticum." 
 [Retrospective Review, Vol. II (2d Series), p. 149.] In neither of these cases, however, 
 should we exi)ect to find Plautus studied, for in only rare instances would he be 
 read by students before entering the university. 
 
 a Nichols, Progresses of Que^n Elizabeth, Vol. Ill, p. 177. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 EABLT DEAMATIC PIECES INFLUENCED BY LATIN COMEDY 
 
 We have noticed how firmly Plaufcus and Terence had estab- 
 lished themselves in the universities and how familiarly they 
 were known to the scholars of England by the end of the third 
 decade of the sixteenth century. We have seen that in 1520 
 **a goodlie comedie of Plautus" — probably in Latin — was 
 played before the King and the French hostages at Greenwich. 
 One of the early issues of Caxton's press had been a complete 
 edition of Terence, published in 1497,* and in the same year 
 Pynson printed at the Oxford press what was probably its first 
 issue — the Andria.^ Before 1530 an English translation of this 
 play had appeared. It would have been strange indeed had 
 this interest in the works of the two great Latin comedy-writers 
 produced no appreciable result on the dramatic attempts of the 
 time, especially when we remember that the dramatists were 
 almost all university men. And at this point it is necessary to 
 remember that in noting the influence of Latin comedy on our 
 literature, it is frequently impossible to distinguish between the 
 claims of Plautus and of Terence to have given the inspiration 
 to the English author. The stock characters of the parasite^ 
 the courtesan, the intriguing slave, etc., are common to both, 
 and while it is possible to distinguish the characteristics of 
 Plautus's dramatis perso?iae from those of Terence, their direct 
 descendants in English comedy rarely bear the distinctive 
 earmarks of the one Latin writer or of the other with sufficient 
 accuracy to enable us to trace their origin. * In many cases 
 they are doubtless reminiscences of corresponding characters 
 in the works of both Plautus and Terence, and even, at times, 
 as we shall have occasion to note, minglings of two of tho 
 persoiiae of Roman comedy. 
 
 One of the first English dramatic pieces which shows 
 unmistakably the influence of Latin comedy is the interlude 
 
 1 Lowndes, Bibliographer's Manual. 
 
 aMadan, Early Oxford Press, p. 2 (Ox. Hist. Soc, Vol. XXIX, 1895). 
 
 28 
 
INFLUENCE OF LATIN COMEDY 29 
 
 , Calisto and Meliioea,^ published about 1530, the colophon of 
 "which reads : Johes Rastell me imprimi fecit, A Spanish play 
 on the same subject had been written much earlier. The story 
 — a young man in love applying to a procuress to enable him to 
 get possession of the object of his passion — carries us at once 
 into the world of Roman comedy. Calisto, the hero, in his 
 unreasoning, animal -like love for Meliboea deifies his mistress, 
 and is willing to give his gold, his cloak — everything, to com- 
 pass the desired end. He sits down and bemoans his lot, 
 handing over the conduct of the affair almost entirely to the 
 "parasite," Sempronio, who, by the way, is rather the resource- 
 ful slave of the ancient drama than a parasite. Unlike 
 the former, however, he is not faithful to the interests of 
 his master. Celestina, the procuress, is influenced only by 
 mercenary motives, is hypocritical, and has no redeeming 
 feature. Thus far the almost perfect correspondence to the 
 ancient comedy is clearly seen and in suflBcient detail. Another 
 
 ,. point worthy of notice is the significant dream of Danio, the 
 father of Meliboea, in which, under symbolic forms, is typified 
 the danger in which his daughter stands. With this comp.are, 
 
 ^ for example, the dream in the Rudens, Act III, Sc. i, where 
 Daemones foresees similar peril in the form of a she-ape try- 
 ing to rob a swallow's nest. Compare also the dream of 
 Demipho in Mercator, Act II, Sc. i. The development is very 
 slight; there is no attempt at poetic justice, and no concluding 
 
 ' general denoueme?it. A long moral homily by Danio closes the 
 piece.* 
 
 The farces Tliersites and Jack Juggler both demand atten- 
 tion in a study of the early influence of Latin comedy. 
 Thersites^ was written in 1537, the year of the birth of 
 Edward VI., for in the concluding speech, after requesting 
 prayers for the king, the author continues: 
 
 Beseech ye also that God may save his queen, 
 
 Lovely Lady Jane and the prince that he hath sent them between. 
 
 » Dodsley's Old English Plays, ed. Hazlitt, Vol. I, p. 51. 
 
 a It is a little difficult to understand why Professor Brandl classes this play 
 among those which were influenced by the "Terence imitations" of the German 
 Humanists. There is no trace of this influence in the play itself; and we have no 
 external evidence that the Neo-Latin drama of Germany had as yet acquired any 
 vogue in England. 
 
 s Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. I, p. 389. For analysis of the piece see Collier's History 
 of Dramatic Poetry, Vol. II, 399 ff. 
 
30 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 The play consists of a number of loosely connected scenes, 
 illustrative of the character of the hero, a ridiculous braggart, 
 and it has sometimes been considered as an outgrowth of the 
 Miles Gloriosus of Plautus.^ For example Jusserand, speaking 
 of Gammer GurtorC s Needle^ says: ''''La donnee^ V esprit, Us 
 bouffonneries, les plaisanteries, V observation des caracteres. Us 
 grossieretes, Us jeux de mots, tout id comme da^is Tliersite fait 
 penser a U7i Plaute anglais parlant comme U Plaute Romain 
 pour des gens peit instruits et p>Bu intelligents. ' '^ But neither in 
 the case of this general spirit, nor of the central motif is it prob- 
 able that we are dealing with a case of genuine Plautine influence. 
 The braggart is unprovided with a parasite, which omission would 
 have rendered Pyrgopolinices helpless ; nor are the character- 
 istics of the latter, except as they belong to the genus, notably 
 present. Moreover the conception of the '*miles gloriosus" is 
 an old one in English literature, and with more or less variation 
 from original types there has been a long line of successors to 
 Hunferth in B eotvulf smd "Kay the crabbed" of the Arthurian 
 story. Especially toward the close of the sixteenth century a 
 very great number of plays rang the changes on this popular 
 character.^ In the Mystery Plays the role of Herod was invari- 
 ably that of loud, unrestrained boasting, coupled with a great 
 deal of comic raging about. There is one character of our 
 ancient national drama, however, who would seem to be quite 
 clearly the prototype of Thersites — Watkyn, in the play of 
 Candlemas Day*' in the Digby Mysteries. The subject of the 
 piece is the Slaughter of the Innocents. Watkyn comes to 
 Herod and beseeches him *'for Mahound's sake make me a 
 knight. ' ' He is deeply impressed with a sense of his own valor : 
 
 Though I say it myself I am a man of vAyght. 
 
 Herod refuses his request, but gives him permission to go 
 forth with the soldiers to the work of slaughter. Watkyn is 
 much pleased and feels that he shall be able to slay the children 
 finely. He confesses, however : 
 
 But yitt I drede no thyng more than a woman with a rokke. 
 
 I Of. Reinhardstoettner, Plautus, p. 658. 
 8 Le Thi&tre en Angleterre, p. 182. 
 
 8 V. Graf, Der Miles Gloriosus im Englischen Drama, etc., pp. 16, 20, et passim. 
 * Ancient Mysteries from the Digby Manuscripts. Printed for the Abbotsford 
 Club, Edin., 1835. 
 
INFLUENCE OF LATIN COMEDY 31 
 
 Herod rebukes and sneers at him for this admission, and 
 Watkyn declares : 
 
 And ther come an hundred women I wole not ffleen, 
 
 though he thinks it will be desirable to kill the children if 
 possible when the mothers are not present. At length, having 
 joined Herod's knights, Watkyn comes to the work of slaugh- 
 ter, and addresses the mothers in very pompous language. 
 After a time the women centre their attention on him, and as 
 soon as they begin to make demonstrations, Watkyn weakens. 
 He declares: 
 
 My heart begynne to fayle and waxeth feynt, 
 
 but he threatens his enemies : 
 
 But ye shall lose your goods as traitors atteynt. 
 
 This is too much for the patience of the already sorely tried 
 women, who now attack Watkyn, laying on with their distaffs, 
 which punishment he is forced to endure till the knights come 
 to his rescue. At this point, and rather abruptly, Watkyn 's 
 part in the play is concluded. 
 
 Thersites is an even more farcical, impossible specimen of 
 the same type. He has more of the braggadocio spirit than 
 Watkyn. His speeches to his mother, first when refusing her 
 request that he give up his bloody intentions, and later when 
 he forces her to bless him and relieve Telemachus of his 
 distress, are quite in the vein of Watkyn 's address to the 
 Israelitish mothers. His combat with a snail and final victory 
 over his antagonist, are, of course, the purest farce. As soon 
 as a soldier appears Thersites runs behind his mother, crying : 
 
 O mother, mother, I pray thee me hide : 
 
 Throw something over me, and cover me every side. 
 
 At the second appearance of the soldier the stage-direction 
 reads: *'And then he (the soldier) must strike at him, and 
 Thersites must run away, and leave his club and sword 
 behind." 
 
 The spirit of childish farcicalness which pervades the whole 
 piece is a development of the elements we have seen in Candle- 
 mas Day. The frank coarseness and unrestrained fun, the 
 J Skeltonic doggerel verses, the long list of onomatopoeic names 
 contained in one of the speeches of Thersites, all point to its 
 
32 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 vital connection with the national drama. Such bewildering 
 alliteration as: 
 
 Proud Pierce Pick-thank that picked Parnel's purse, 
 Cut will the cakes, though Kate do cry and curse, 
 
 and the talking of disconnected nonsense are common in Herod's 
 speeches, while the use of Latin phrases — cf. Thersites's 
 condatur mihi galea — is likewise characteristic of the most 
 popular character of the Mysteries. That he is also related to 
 the Devil of the old plays, Thersites himself announces by an 
 **0h, what a fellow am I." It is difficult to appreciate M. Jus- 
 serand's reference to ^H^ observation des caracteres^^ in Thersites, 
 for there is nothing of it in the whole play, with the questionable 
 exception of the case of the hero, who is too absurd to be 
 real. The purely and confessedly farcical nature of the whole 
 ipso facto shuts out the possibility of real characterization. 
 Professor Brandl considers Thersites as inhaltlich eine Char- 
 akterstudie iiber einen Prahlhans in der Art des Pyrgo- 
 polyniTces} Not only is it not a character-study in any real 
 sense, for the fun arises generally in the utter absurdity and 
 impossibility of the situation, but I have been unable to find 
 any distinctly Plautine characteristics in the piece, and in spite 
 of its classical setting I think we should regard it as a natural 
 development of the comic elements in the earlier Mystery 
 Plays. It is not difficult to conceive of the author of Thersites 
 as a man who had never read a single Latin comedy. 
 
 The farce of Jach Juggler, probably written during the 
 reign of Edward VI., in its prologue confesses itself a very 
 unambitious adaptation of the Amphitruo of Plautus. The 
 author declares that *'it is a thing natural" for man "to have 
 at times convenient pastance, mirth and pleasures, so they be 
 joined with honesty and kept within due measures"; this 
 was the belief of the great philosophers of ancient days, 
 including Cicero Tullius, who *' above all other things com- 
 mendeth the old comedy, 
 
 . . . . And in this manner of making Plautus did excel, 
 
 As now he hath done this matter not worth an oyster shell. 
 Except percase it shall fortune to make you laugh well. 
 
 » Quellen des Weltlichen Dramas in England vor Shakespeare, p. Ixxi. 
 
INFLUENCE OF LATIN COMEDY 33 
 
 And for that purpose only this maker did it write, 
 Taking the ground thereof out of Plautus's first comedy 
 And the first sentence of the same."* 
 
 There is, however, little similarity between Jack Juggler 
 and the Ampliitruo considered as wholes. The former may be 
 called an adaptation of a portion of the first part of the Latin 
 comedy, i.e., to the end of Act II, Sc. i. With the rest of the 
 play, the central situation, or the denouement^ it has nothing to 
 do. In the words of Professor Child, it is the play of Ainphi- 
 tryon without the part of Amphitryon.^ A brief outline of the 
 farce will make this clearer. 
 
 Jack Juggler in the opening speech tells us that he wishes 
 ' to be revenged on Jenkin Careaway, page of Master Bongrace, 
 **for a matter that fell between us a-late." The master is to 
 Bup at the house of a friend and has commissioned Jenkin to 
 ** thither fetch my dame Mistress Bongrace." Jenkin has been 
 loitering and playing by the way till now it is too late to 
 execute his master's commands. He concocts an improbable 
 story to serve as an excuse with his mistress, but is very 
 apprehensive of meeting her. When he reaches the house he 
 is accosted by Jack Juggler, disguised so as to appear the 
 image of Jenkin's own self, and a scene ensues closely modeled 
 on that between Mercury and Sosia in the AmpJiitruo. In 
 general it is simply the similarity in the situations which occa- 
 sions a similarity in the dialogue of the two plays ; in a few 
 instances, however, there is an approach to literal translation. 
 Compare, for instance. Jack's address to his fists: 
 
 Jack. Now fists me-thinketh yesterday seven yers past, 
 That four men asleep at my feet you cast, 
 And this same day you did no manner good, 
 Nor were not washen in warm blood. 
 
 Jenkin. Four hath he slain and now well I see. 
 That it must be my chance the fifth to be.' 
 
 with Mercury's corresponding speech: 
 
 Jam pridem videtur factum heri quod homines quattuor 
 
 In soporem collocastis nudos. Sosia. Formido male 
 
 Ne ego hie nomen meum commutem et Quintusfiam e Sosia.* 
 
 » Jack Juggler (Dodsley's Old English Plays, ed. Hazlitt), Vol. II, pp. 111-112. 
 
 » V. I'our Old Plays, 1848, pp. 9-12. 
 
 s Jack Juggler, p. 122. 
 
 * Amphitruo, I, i, v. 302-305. 
 
34 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Jenkin's begging leave of Jack Juggler to tell the truth 
 without being beaten for so doing, likewise follows the Amphi- 
 truo version rather closely ; cf . : 
 
 Jenkin. But sir, might I be bold to say one thing 
 Without any blows and without any beating? 
 Jack. Truce for a while ; say on what thee lust. 
 Jenkin. May a man to your honesty by your word trust? 
 
 with Sosia's speech: 
 
 So. Ohsecro utper paeem liceat te alloqui ut ne vapulem. 
 Me. Immo indutiae parumper fiant siquid vis loqui. 
 So. Non loquar nisi pace facta, quando pugnis plus vales. 
 Me. I>ic[it6\ siquid vis: nonnocebo. So. Quae fidei credo f^ 
 
 Jack finally gives over and Jenkin falls to the mercy of his 
 mistress, who berates him soundly and hardly gives him an 
 opportunity of propounding his theory of a double identity. 
 This scene is entirely original. A few lines addressed by Jack 
 to the audience separates it from that in which Jenkin's master 
 is indignant with his page's failure to do what he was com- 
 manded, as also with his story about having met his own 
 double. The latter is very similar to the first scene of Act II 
 of the Latin play, in which Amphitruo upbraids Sosia. Bon- 
 grace and his wife are both convinced that the page is 
 responsible for the miscarriage of their arrangements, but no 
 explanation of his complete bewilderment is given. Then 
 follows a long speech, in which Jenkin bewails his lot, and 
 the play is concluded with a didactic epilogue setting forth 
 that 
 
 Such is the fashion of the world now-a-days 
 
 That the simple innocents are deluded. 
 
 He that is stronger and more of power and might, 
 
 If he be disposed to revenge his cause, 
 
 Woll soon pick a quarrel, be it wrong or right, 
 
 To the inferior and weaker for a couple of straws. 
 
 Then he woll put him to the worse, either by false injury. 
 
 Or by some craft and subtlety, or else by plain tyranny. 
 
 The resemblance to Plautus is in the situation only. 
 Alcmena's dignified, frank nature finds no counterpart in 
 Mistress Bongrace, who is "a very cursed shrew, by the blessed 
 
 »75td., I, i,v. 388-392. 
 
rENuE 
 
 INFLUENCE QF LATIN COMEDY 35 
 
 Trinity, and a very devil. '"^ one is quite certain at first that 
 her husband has designedly prevented her going to sup with 
 him, and expresses herself vigorously on the subject, but when 
 the husband finally arrives, and she is convinced of his inno- 
 cence, she is very affectionate, and takes credit to herself for 
 her constant faith in him. Master Bongrace, whom we know 
 very slightly, seems a rather submissive husband, though 
 Jenkin informs us that 
 
 My master himself is worse than she [the wife], 
 If he once thoroughly angered be. 
 
 In the situation, then, and in some verbal similarities con- 
 sists the whole correspondence between the two plays. Jack 
 Juggler can present only very slight claims to be, in any true 
 sense of the word, a comedy. We have two or three comic 
 situations which have a rather more vital connection with each 
 other than the purely chronological one, but of real story 
 development or dramatic structure there is nothing. The 
 Plautine situations have been adapted to the conditions of the 
 native environment, but the author has made no attempt what- 
 ever to produce an adaptation of the Latin comedy in its 
 entirety, or as a developing plotj or even as an effectively dis- 
 posed mass of material. The comic scenes follow each other to 
 a certain point, and then for no particular reason come to a 
 conclusion. The dumbfounded Careaway is left still believing 
 that he has been assaulted by his own double, and his master 
 and mistress are equally far from a rational explanation. The 
 improbability of the whole play is much greater than that of 
 the Latin comedy owing to the fact that we are asked to believe 
 that Jack Juggler was able to disguise himself so perfectly as 
 to play the role which was assigned to Mercury in the Amphi- 
 truo. In a word, the influence of the Latin play on Jach Juggler 
 has been of an external kind, the essentials of dramatic con- 
 ception and structure remaining quite unassimilated. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE DEVELOPMENT OP EARLY ENGLISH COMEDY 
 
 Had the progress of English dramatic literature remained 
 quite unaffected by the study and imitation of Latin plays 
 there can be no question that eventually there would have been 
 evolved from the purely native elements a strong, legiti- 
 mate comedy. The seeds for such a growth had been sown 
 long before, and even the Mysteries furnish us examples of 
 such purely comic figures as Mak, the sheep-stealer, in the 
 Towneley plays, and Watkyn in the Digby Mysteries. When 
 we come to the Moralities, the Vice at once suggests himself in 
 this connection. The Moralities represent a dramatic advance 
 chiefly in the way of characterization ; in many cases little more 
 than a concrete name was necessary to transform an abstraction 
 into a typical, but withal, a real character. Even while these 
 abstractions were preserved they were placed in an environment 
 which was practically that of the audience who listened to the 
 play. From the picturing of type characters of this kind, 
 placed in a setting which represented a minimum of unified or 
 developing plot, the transition to regular comedy was through a 
 double medium — ^that of the interlude and of the farce. When 
 Rastell, in 1533, printed several of the interludes of John Hey- 
 wood, genuine English comedy was almost an accomplished fact. 
 In these pieces characterization and comic situation were united 
 in a highly diverting series of scenes, though there was usually 
 a total lack of dramatic quality, as, for example, in the case of 
 Tlie Four P''s. The service performed by the farce was com- 
 plementary to that of the interlude. In the latter the fun 
 arose in great measure as an outgrowth of the characters of the 
 dramatis personae^ who in turn created comic situations: in 
 the farce, e.g., Thersites or Jach Juggler, the utterly ridiculous 
 character of the whole practically makes characterization impos- 
 sible, while in the inherent farcicalness of the situation consist 
 the laughter-provoking elements. Illustrations of this point 
 readily suggest themselves, e.g., Thersites's combat with the 
 
 36 
 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF EARLY ENGLISH COMEDY 37 
 
 snail, or Jenkin Careaway's perplexity while undergoing 'a 
 cudgeling from his supposed double, in both of which cases 
 we have the lack of correspondence between the actual and 
 the imagined which is necessary to comedy, the real character 
 of the personae remaining in the background. 
 
 The farce and the interlude taken together, then, almost 
 provide the necessary bridging over of the gulf between the 
 Moralities and comedy proper, only a developing unified plot 
 being still necessary. That the native drama would have 
 eventually arrived at this independently there can be no reason- 
 able doubt when we consider how logically and progressively it 
 had previously developed in the direction of true comedy. 
 But an external influence was brought to bear upon it which 
 shortened the length of this transition period very materially, 
 viz., the influence of the comedies of Plautus and Terence. 
 
 The plot structure of Greek drama underwent the most 
 radical modifications in the hands of Eoman comedy-writers, 
 and in the greater complexity of the Latin play the source 
 from which its elements have been derived is often almost 
 entirely obscured. But the changes were not made inde- 
 pendently of artistic considerations. Nowhere does the 
 remarkable genius of Plautus show itself more clearly than in 
 his effective disposition of material : he develops his story with 
 a perfect though probably unconscious fidelity to artistic law. 
 The claim has been made for the Captivi that it is the best 
 constructed drama in existence. But that which is of special 
 interest to us here is to note the many similarities between the 
 Latin drama and that of England after the latter had come 
 under the influence of the works of Plautus and Terence. One 
 of the chief differences between a work like Ralph Roister 
 Doister on the one hand, and Jach Juggler and most of Hey- 
 wood's pieces on the other, is this; the latter develop an 
 absurd situation as far as possible, the climax coinciding with 
 the conclusion of the play ; in the former we have an upward 
 movement toward a climax, followed by the falling movement 
 ending with the ** catastrophe." That this advance was owing 
 to the study of Latin models we can not doubt. 
 
 Many other features of the work of Plautus and Terence, 
 some of a merely accessory character, some of the very essence 
 of Latin dramatic art, were gradually incorporated by English 
 comedy. The prologues to Plautus 's plays — most of them date 
 
38 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 from a period subsequent to his death — not assigned to any 
 particular character, and combining, as they do, the double 
 function of explanation and apology, are copied closely by 
 Elizabethan writers. Plautus's predilection for a great num- 
 ' ber of scenes is preserved in early English comedy, and by a 
 natural development has taken on the additional character- 
 istic of frequent change of place — a characteristic which 
 has become the despair of the modem stage manager. The 
 feature of underplots, bearing a more or less vital relation 
 to the main plot of the play, has persisted. The frequent pre- 
 ponderance of the poetical over the dramatic, the introduction 
 of purely lyrical passages, the turning to dramatic account of 
 the change of metres, and in a less formal way, the spontaneous 
 flow of language, the strong exuberant vitality, the sense of the 
 deep joy of living, are not more characteristic of the Plautine 
 than of the Elizabethan drama. To say that the English 
 drama derived these characteristics entirely from Latin comedy 
 would be manifestly unfair, and with regard to diction and 
 informing spirit it would be very easy to overestimate the 
 importance of the influence. But on the side of form the 
 English dramatists went to school to Plautus and Terence, and 
 it was in this school that they gained almost their entire educa- 
 tion in the matter of dramatic structure. 
 
 It is not to be imagined that English drama previous to 
 Ralph Roister Doister had been absolutely untouched in its 
 development by the models of Latin drama. Indeed it is diflB- 
 cult to believe that the untrammeled flow and sententious 
 vigor of Heywood's dialogue owes nothing to the comedy of 
 Plautus. But it was on the constructive side that this influ- 
 ence now became most pronounced and most beneficial, and it 
 was derived to comedy through three main channels : 
 
 1. The study of Plautus and Terence in the schools. 
 
 2. The writing and acting in the schools of Latin plays and 
 English plays which were modeled on Latin comedy. 
 
 3. The vogue in England of the Neo-Latin drama of the 
 German Humanists. 
 
 The first of these points has been already dealt with. The 
 study of Terence had never died out in the schools ; Plautus was 
 among the first of the Latin classics to be reestablished in the seat 
 1 of honor at the time of the early Renaissance of learning. *'A 
 igoodlie comedie of Plautus" was staged at Greenwich in 1520, 
 I 
 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF EARLY ENGLISH COMEDY 39 
 
 and before 1530 the Andria of Terence had been translated^ 
 and almost certainly acted.'' We have also seen how commonly 
 the Latin comedy-writers were quoted by scholars in the first 
 half of the century, and that they were among the favorite 
 authors of educated men there is abundant evidence. 
 
 The custom of giving plays at the great public schools and 
 universities was a very old one, though definite information is 
 almost entirely lacking until the performance of the Dido of 
 Kightwise between 1522 and 1532.^ We also know that in 
 1525 a play was presented by the students of Eton College.* 
 The practice continued uninterruptedly till the time of the 
 Commonwealth, and, together with disputations, formed the 
 chief method of entertaining royalty at the universities. 
 Elizabeth seems to have been particularly fond of these rep- 
 resentations,^ while the erudite James I. held them in slight 
 esteem. Several names have come down to us which are inti- 
 mately associated with the early history of the school drama. 
 Between 1520 and 1532 were produced the Mundus Flumbevs 
 and the Microcosmus of Thomas Artour of Cambridge, and in 
 1535 the Fiscator or the Fisher Caught of John Hoker of 
 Oxford. In 1546 John Christopherson, **a very grave and 
 learned divine," wrote his tragedy of Jephtha as a contribution 
 to the Christmas festivities at Cambridge. Better known, per- 
 haps, was Ralph Radcliffe, who, having obtained a grant of the 
 house of Carmelites at Hitchin, opened a school and fitted up 
 one room for the purpose of enabling his pupils to give dra- 
 matic performances. He was the author of ten tragedies and 
 comedies, none of which seem to have been printed.* The 
 names of these plays, together with the description of them 
 given us by Bale — spectacula simul jucunda et honesta — make 
 probable the inference that Radcliffe had come under the 
 influence of the Christian drama of Germany.' Of a similar 
 
 1 The Andria is cited three times by Leonard Cox in his The Arte or Crafte of 
 Rheihoryke, v. reprint "English Studies," Univ. of Chicago, ed. F. I. Carpenter, pp. 
 55, 76, 77. 
 
 9 The language of the prologue and the epilogue justify this conclusion. 
 
 > Latin plays in University of Cambridge, Retrospective Review, Vol. XII, p. 7. 
 
 * H. C. Maxwell Lyte, A History of Eton College, p. 115, quotes from Eton Audit 
 Book, 1525-26, "Pro expensis circa omamenta ad duos lusus in aula tempore natalis 
 Domini Xs." 
 
 6 See accounts of her visit to Oxford in 156C and 1592 in Elizabethan Oxford, ed. 
 C. Plummer (Ox. Hist. Soc, 1886). For her visit to Cambridge in 1564 see Nichols's 
 Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, Vol. Ill, p. 177. 
 
 « For list of Radcliffe's works, v. Cooper's Athenae Cantabrigienees, Vol. I, p. 204. 
 
 » V. next chapter. 
 
40 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 character was the work of Nicholas Grimalde/ who lectured at 
 Christ Church on Terence, Cicero, Horace, and Xenophon. 
 In 1543 he published at Cologne his Christus Redivivus^ and 
 in 1548 his Archiproplieta sive Johannes Baptista^ this last 
 work entitling him, in Professor Herford's opinion, to a "dis- 
 tinguished position in the history of the English drama as the 
 author of the first extant tragedy."^ 
 
 The last of these writers of school plays whom we shall 
 consider is for our purpose by iar the most important — Nich- 
 olas Udall,* successively master of Eton and Westminster 
 schools. He was appointed to the head-mastership of Eton in 
 1534, and remained in this position for nearly eight years. 
 The students at this school ordinarily gave a Latin play once a 
 year.® The representation took place during the Christmas 
 holidays, and before a public audience, and English plays 
 were permitted provided any could be found of sufficient 
 excellence.* A year before entering on his duties at Eton 
 Udall had published his Floures for Latine spekynge selected 
 and gathered oute of Terence and the same translated into 
 English. Other editions of this work — which included the first 
 three comedies of Terence — appeared in 1538, 1544, and 1560, 
 and an enlarged edition by John Higgins was printed in 1575 
 and 1581. We know that Udall wrote plures comoediae and a 
 tragedy de Papatu^ and his play Ezechias^m English, was 
 performed before Queen Elizabeth at Cambridge in 1564. The 
 only extant play by Udall is that to which is usually accorded 
 the honor of being the first English comedy — Ralph Roister 
 Doister, and it is probable that it was written for the boys of 
 Eton school and during the author's head-mastership, i.e., 
 before 1541.* 
 
 » V. Cooi)er's Athenae Cantahrigienses, p. 230. 
 
 « Reprinted in publications of Modern Language Association, Vol. XIV. 
 
 • The Literary Belations of England and Germany in the Sixteenth Century, p. 113. 
 
 • The best accounts of the life of Udall are that by Sidney Lee in the Dictionary 
 cf National Biography, and that by William Durrant Cooper, prefixed to the Old 
 Shakespeare Society's edition of Ralph Roister Doister. 
 
 » I have not been able to consult the Eton Consuetudinary, but Sidney Lee in his 
 life of Udall (ZWc. Nat. Biog.), states that the plays thus given were those of Terence 
 and Plautus. 
 
 • Interdum etiam exhibet Anglico sermone contextas fabulas si quae habeant acu- 
 men et leporem. From the ancient Consuetudinary of Eton school, quoted by 
 Collier, II, pp. 445-46, and Wharton, III, p. 308. 
 
 ' Warton, III, 308, quoting from Royal MS., 18 A, liiv. 
 
 8 Professor Hales maintains that the play was not written before 1551, but his 
 argument is not convincing. V. Eng. Stu., Vol. XV. 
 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF EARLY ENGLISH COMEDY 41 
 
 It is a rather significant fact in the history of the develop- 
 ment of English drama that our first extant comedy is based 
 upon one of the plays of Plautus — ^the Miles Gloriosus, Ralph 
 Roister Doister is so well known that it is unnecessary to give 
 a sketch of the plot in this connection. The prologue opens 
 with a defence of honest mirth, and on these lines the similar 
 passage in the prologue of Jack Juggler would seem to be 
 modeled, if indeed it is certainly the later of the two produc- 
 tions. Another similarity consists in their both referring to 
 Plautus as having excelled in this manner of making. The 
 prologue of Ralph Roister Doister says : 
 
 The wyse poets long time heretofore 
 
 Under meiTie comedies secretes did declare, 
 
 Wherein was contained very vertuous lore, 
 
 With mysteries and forewarnings very rare. 
 
 Suche to write neether Plautus nor Terence dyd spare, 
 
 Whiche among the learned at this day beares the bell : 
 
 These with such other therein dyd excell. 
 
 The plot of the comedy is, as far as we know, entirely 
 original with the author, and although two of the characters — 
 Ralph, the vainglorious coward, and Matthew Merrygreke, the 
 astute parasite — are taken from the Miles Gloriosus, the whole 
 atmosphere and setting of the play is pronouncedly English. 
 Ralph is clearly of the Pyrgopolinices type. His chief charac- 
 teristics are summed up for us by the parasite : 
 
 All the day long is he facing and craking 
 
 Of his great actes in fighting and f raymaking ; 
 
 But, when Roister Doister is put to his proofe, 
 
 To keepe the Queenes peace is more for his behoofe. 
 
 If any woman smyle or cast on hym an eye, 
 
 Up is he to the harde eares in love by-and-by, 
 
 And in all the hotte haste must she be hys wife, 
 
 Else farewell hys good days, and farewell his life !^ 
 
 Like his immortal prototype he has an oppressive sense of 
 liis own worth, and half despairingly he asks Matthew: 
 
 Why did God make me suche a goodly person? 
 
 In the true ancient fashion he is dependent upon his para- 
 site at every moment. The latter, like Artotrogus of the Miles 
 Oloriosus, and, indeed, like all others of the type in Plautus, 
 
 » Act I, Sc. i, 11. 3643 (Manly, The Pre-Shaksperean Drama, Vol. II). 
 
42 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 is chiefly interested in providing himself with meat and drink 
 at the expense of some patron who is willing to be paid in. 
 flattery. Like Artotrogus, too, he persuades his victim that 
 he is remarkable chiefly in two ways — for his unparalleled per- 
 sonal bravery, and for his attractiveness in the eyes of women. 
 Merrygreke, however, is not a reproduction of Artotrogus as 
 Koister Doister is of Pyrgopolinices. He not only flatters but 
 at times flouts the braggart wooer ; he is even more interested 
 in developing the comic possibilities of the situation than in 
 extracting personal gain from the dupe whom he has in his 
 toils. It is in this role of a mirth-loving schemer, in which he 
 appears the incarnation of the spirit of fun, that we recognize 
 his relationship to the older Vice. In spite of what at first sight 
 might appear a somewhat incongruous combination we have 
 a very real and very entertaining character in Merrygreke. 
 As for the other dramatis personae it is only necessary to 
 notice that they are clearly differentiated, genuine characters 
 drawn from contemporary English life. The movement of the 
 play never flags, the conversation flows briskly and spiritedly, 
 and the interest in the story is preserved to the very close. 
 But perhaps in no particular is a greater advance over the work 
 of earlier English play-writers to be noticed than in the matter 
 of dramatic technique. There are five acts, subdivided into- 
 scenes, and the disposition and inter-relating of the details of 
 the plot are of a very skillful kind. Act I introduces us to 
 almost all the characters, and puts us in touch with the 
 general situation. Kalph, in love with the widow Dame Cus- 
 tance, is chiefly concerned regarding a rival of whom he has 
 heard — a merchant named Gawin Goodluck. Merrygreke 
 consoles him by the assurance that his personal charms are 
 irresistible. Then we have some scenes between Ralph and 
 his servants on the one side, and the servants of Dame Custance 
 on the other, and Madge Mumblecrust finally delivers to her 
 mistress a letter from Ralph. The second act is rather short 
 and relates the difficulties attendant on the efforts of one of 
 Ralph's servants to deliver a ring and a token to Dame 
 Custance from his master. But at length, introducing himself 
 to the servants of the widow as a messenger from their mistress's 
 future husband, he easily persuades them to deliver the knick- 
 knacks, and they in turn are soundly rated by the lady for 
 having such commerce with a person of whom they know 
 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF EARLY ENGLISH COMEDY 43 
 
 nothing. This act advances the course of the "plot but little. 
 In Act III Merrygreke learns from Dame Custance that she is 
 engaged to Gawin Goodluck, and that she | despises Ealph 
 Eoister Doister, whose letter she has not even read. The 
 parasite dutifully reports this to his master, who is so 
 ohagrined that he declares he will die forthwith ; Merrygreke 
 takes his statement literally for the sake of the promised fun, 
 and calls in servants to pray **and for hym ring a peale." 
 After a time Ealph recovers, and on Merrygreke's advice goes 
 to serenade the widow, who laughs him to scorn. She pro- 
 duces the letter which she had received, and Merrygreke reads 
 it in such a way that by altering the punctuation he gives to it 
 a meaning quite contrary to that which it was intended to 
 convey. Ealph thereupon denies the authorship, and when 
 Dame Custance takes her leave he vows to be revenged on the 
 scrivener whom he had employed. The latter, however, reads 
 his composition in such a way that the baffled Ealph has to 
 admit its excellence. 
 
 The fourth act is largely made up of pure farce. Sim 
 Suresby, the servant of Gawin Goodluck, has been sent by his 
 master to salute Dame Custance. Just at this juncture Ealph 
 and Merrygreke arrive, the former talking loudly of arms and 
 preparations for battle, and addressing Custance as **sweete 
 wife," the effect of which is that Sim leaves hurriedly to 
 inform his master of the new state of affairs. Custance is so 
 enraged that she and her maids, with the help of Tristram 
 Trusty, a neighbor, attack Eoister Doister and his men. A 
 pitched battle ensues, kitchen utensils being the chief weapons, 
 and Ealph is soundly cudgeled by Custance, who is aided by 
 the deceitful parasite. 
 
 In the fifth act Gawin Goodluck 's mistaken ideas regarding 
 his affianced are dispelled, and the play concludes happily for 
 everyone, Ealph being invited to the wedding supper. 
 
 This short sketch will serve to show how much Udall had 
 learned regarding the framework of a play. Ralph Roister 
 Doister is one of the first English dramas, the material of 
 which is digested in five acts, subdivided into scenes. But 
 more than this the relation of successive acts to one another is 
 fairly effective. The first act performs exactly the service 
 which a first act should perform. The chief flaw is perhaps to 
 be found in the lack of plot-progress in Act II, but the com- 
 
44 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 plications which arise in the course of Ealph's wooing are fully- 
 developed by the time we reach the end of the third act. With 
 the beginning of the fourth act Ealph's chances decline rapidly, 
 but a complication arises in the development of the sub-theme 
 to which the last two acts are devoted — the realization of 
 Dame Custance's hopes of happiness. This complication is 
 resolved in Act V, and the play concludes merrily for all the 
 characters. Whether we consider the comedy from the point 
 of view of the genuineness and number of the characters, the 
 spirited nature of the dialogue, or the excellence of its con- 
 structive arrangement, we find in Ralph Roister Doister an 
 artistic product separated by a long distance from the best of its 
 predecessors in English literature, and that Udall had read his 
 Plautus and Terence to good effect we need no other proof 
 than the single specimen of his ^^plures comoediae^'* which has 
 survived to modern times. ^ 
 
 The third source from which Latin comedy was brought to 
 bear upon the development of the English drama, viz., through 
 the Neo-Latin plays of the German Humanists, we shall con- 
 sider in the next chapter. 
 
 »An interesting reference to school plays is contained in a quotation from 
 Gulielmus Loonus's Braunii Civitates (1575), to the effect, that even Plautus, Terence, 
 or Seneca, if they could have witnessed them, would have been delighted and aston- 
 ished at the grace and elegance displayed hy the students at these representations. 
 V. Retrospective Review, Vol. XII, p. 20, Latin Plays in University of Cambridge, 
 The models of the plays referred to ate clearly enough indicated. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE INFLUENCE PROM GERMANY 
 
 That the literary relations of England and Germany became 
 more intimate during the sixteenth century than they had ever 
 been before is not strange. In 1509 Pynson had published 
 Alexander Barclay's translation of Sebastian Brandt's Narren- 
 schiff — a work which had already won a continental reputation, 
 and the connection thus established continued to grow more 
 intimate. But to the Reformation was due primarily the closer 
 intimacy which came to exist between the two nations at this 
 period. From Germany had come the initial impulse to the 
 great religious movement which was working itself out in 
 Europe, and before Englishmen had become active partisans in 
 the struggle their eyes had been riveted on the world-stirring 
 scenes which were taking place in the theatre of which 
 Germany was the stage. Among the early English dramatic 
 pieces written with a partisan purpose was "the most goodliest 
 disguising or interlude made in Latin and French," which was 
 presented before the king and the French ambassadors at Green- 
 wich in 1527. In this Latin Morality, which was acted by the 
 children of St. Paul's school under the direction of John 
 Rightwise, then head-master, Luther and his wife were char- 
 acters, and the purpose of the play was to cast ridicule on 
 them and on the principles of the Reformers.^ 
 
 The necessary contact had thus been established, and this 
 made it possible that the one form of literary activity which then 
 flourished in Germany — the Latin drama^ — might be brought to 
 the notice of Englishmen. Its history on continental soil had 
 been very different from that of the English species. In the case 
 . of the latter we have an artificial, amorphous product, as devoid 
 of all real interest or vitality as of progressiveness or develop- 
 ment in any direction. Its history is that of the accumulation 
 
 1 Collier, Hist. Ancient Eng. Poet., 1, 105 ff. 
 
 « Most of the material on this subject I have drawn from Professor Herford's 
 Literary Relations of England and Germany in the Sixteenth Century. 
 
 45 
 
46 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 of a heterogeneous mass of materials which never attained to 
 the unity of an organic whole. The Archipropheta^ one of 
 its earliest products, is usually considered its most credit- 
 able. But in Germany the case was different. The writing 
 of Latin plays on the model of those of Plautus and Terence 
 had begun much earlier than in England, and from the first 
 these productions allied themselves to a greater or less extent 
 with contemporary German life. Plays written in Latin were 
 translated into German and vice versa^ both versions being 
 given on the stage, sometimes one immediately after the other. 
 ;!From a structural point of view the earliest of these produc- 
 tions were indebted but slightly to Eoman comedy: it was 
 rather the atmosphere of the Eoman theatre and the methods 
 of literary expression which were taken over. At Heidelberg 
 as early as 1470 Jacob Wimpheling produced his StylpJio, and 
 in 1498 a much more important play appeared — the Hennd^ of 
 Keuchlin. In 1501 a new edition appeared of the tenth cen- 
 tury adaptation of Terence — the work of the nun of Gander- 
 sheim, and six years later her method was emulated in the 
 Dorothea of Ohilianus. In the Henno and the Dorothea we have 
 the prototypes of all the succeeding members of two large classes 
 of Latin plays in Germany. The first — the "Modem Terence" 
 class — adapts a modern farce to the artistic form and style 
 of an ancient comedy. To quote Professor Herford, "certain 
 characters and incidents have a Terentian or Plautine colour- 
 ing,*' and the chief characteristics of the play are "its 
 admirably clear and compact structure," its "success in 
 satisfying the more mechanical canons of art, skill of structure, 
 unity, singleness of plot." The second type, which has given 
 the name of the "Christian Terence" to a large class of allied 
 plays, is of more immediate interest to us here. It sought 
 to reproduce essentially the atmosphere and situations of Latin 
 comedy, at the same time eliminating that which was morally 
 objectionable. But it did more than this. In its more 
 developed form of the Biblical drama, which incorporated the 
 main characteristics of the drama of Eeuchlin, we have the 
 adaptation of Biblical incidents to the ancient dramatic forms, 
 many of the stock characters and situations of Latin comedy 
 being at the same time preserved. The chief development of 
 
 * For analysis see Herford, op. cit., p. 81+. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 47 
 
 this school came about in Holland, and was the work of three 
 men, all schoolmasters — Gnapheus, Macropedius, and Crocus. 
 Their play-writing was an outcome of their pedagogic endeavors, 
 and represented individual solutions of one great problem, "how, 
 namely, to steep a boy's mind in the admirable colloquial 
 Latin of Terence and Plautus without introducing him prema- 
 turely to a world of lenones and meretrices.''* Their purpose 
 Professor Herford sums up by denominating them *'the ardent 
 Humanists, who vied with the old comic poets, aspired to be 
 the Terences or Plautuses of the age, and to reproduce as far 
 as was consistent with a Biblical subject and a pious intention, 
 the art, the colouring, the society, the atmosphere of Plautua 
 and Terence."^ 
 
 It would be aside from our purpose at this point to consider 
 in any detail the enthusiasm which spread throughout Germany 
 for this style of play — the representing of Biblical stories in 
 classical forms. I shall notice briefly only a few of those plays, 
 which we know to have exercised a direct influence in England. 
 Some of the favorite subjects were those connected with the 
 names of Joseph, Judith, Susanna, Zorobabel, Judas, Haman, 
 etc. More popular than any of these, however, was the story 
 of the Prodigal Son, which underwent frequent treatment, and 
 which was soon surrounded by a whole brood of plays on 
 themes which were either related to the Biblical story, or had 
 been adapted to it. The most famous of these pieces was the 
 Acolastus of Gnapheus, alias FuUonius, the author being a self- 
 confessed admirer of Plautus and Terence ; the story of the play 
 is that of the Prodigal Son. The various details of the Biblical 
 story have been sometimes elaborated, sometimes given very sum- 
 marily, the chief elaboration being in that part which deals with 
 the Prodigal's life as a prodigal, where we have a number of 
 scenes "painted with the genial vigor of Plautus, and a fearless 
 use of his abundant material." The play was written in 1529, 
 and by 1540 an English translation — somewhat in the form of a 
 school exercise-book — had appeared from the pen of John 
 Palsgrave. Another important work of this class, which was 
 also translated into English, was the Pammachius of Kirchmayer. 
 The play appeared in 1538, and was shortly followed by the 
 Pyrgopolinices of the same author, in which a German prince 
 
 » Op. cit,. p. 85. 
 
48 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 is pictured as a modern "miles gloriosus." John Bale, who on 
 Cromwell's downfall, had found himself exposed to the anger 
 of his religious enemies, and had deemed it advisable to pass 
 the years from 1540 to 1547 on the continent, was the 
 translator of the Pammachius, but we know nothing of his 
 version except his own statement, Pammachii tragoediam}- 
 transtuli. The play was already known in England, however. 
 Kirchmayer had dedicated it to the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 and its representation in 1545 by the students of Christ's 
 College called forth a long investigation and a subsequent rebuke 
 from Gardiner, chancellor of the university, for its Protes- 
 tantism was of the most pronounced kind. The influence of a 
 piece which created so much interest must have been consider- 
 able, and Professor Herford believes that 'Hhe Kynge Johan 
 [by the translator of Kirchmayer' s drama] owes much of its 
 peculiar construction to a deliberate imitation of the Pamma- 
 chius, and that it was this imitation which finally emancipated 
 Bale from his clumsy efforts to build a Protestant drama on 
 the ruins of the Catholic mystery." 
 
 Until recently a thorough study of the Latin drama of 
 England during this period had never been attempted, and the 
 fact that the great majority of the plays have disappeared will 
 always make a full knowledge of the subject impossible. The 
 recent work of George B. Churchill and Wolfgang Keller* has 
 made accessible synopses of the greater number of those plays 
 which are extant. The most important of the influences which 
 largely determined, or at least modified their character, 
 were the Latin plays of Germany and the Plautine-Terentian 
 imitations of Italy, only the former of which we shall notice 
 in this chapter. The English authors of Latin drama were 
 almost invariably schoolmasters, and wrote their plays for the 
 definite purpose of providing material for representation by 
 their students. For instance, we know that Udall wrote 
 plures comoediae which have not come down to us. Between 
 1540 and 1552, Ealph Radcliffe, the schoolmaster of Hitchin, 
 wrote ten comedies and tragedies, only the names of which 
 are preserved, but these, with Bale's information, that they 
 
 > The second edition has " tragoedias'" ; " tragoediam" is the reading of the 1549 
 edition. 
 
 ' Die lateinischen Universitats-Dramen Englands in der Zeit der Kdnigin Elizar 
 beth. Jahrbuch der Deutschen Shakespeare Gesellschaft, Vol. XXXIV, pp. 220-333. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 49 
 
 were spectacula simul jucimda et honesta, put it almost 
 beyond doubt that the Christian drama of Germany had fur- 
 nished the model for Radcliffe's work. Likewise classical in 
 form and Biblical in theme were the plays of Christoferson and 
 Buchanan, as also those of Grimald, whose Archipropheta has 
 been called the first extant tragedy of the English drama. 
 And lastly, we may notice the "Exile literature" of Bale and 
 Foxe, — in especial the Christus Triumphans of the latter, who 
 had studied the works of the German writers and was greatly 
 indebted to them. 
 
 To return to the effect of this whole movement on the 
 English drama written in English. In the first place we have 
 plays on subjects like Kyng Darius, Godly Queene Hester, and 
 Susanna. But the strictly Plautine influence is seen most 
 clearly in a group of plays which derive from the most popular 
 of all the German -Latin pieces — those dealing with the 
 Prodigal Son. We have seen that the Acolastus was translated 
 by Palsgrave in 1540 ; the Studentes of Stymmelius was also 
 well-known in England, as was probably the Rebelles of 
 Macropedius, though in the latter case external evidence is 
 lacking. These were all variations of the Prodigal Son motif, 
 but gave the story its setting in university life. This latter 
 feature is, of course, not necessarily incorporated in the drama 
 of this type, and in the English plays about to be considered 
 ^ we shall find only one in which it is clearly present. 
 
 Before taking up the English plays which were modeled on 
 individual plays of the type we have been considering, it may 
 not be amiss once more to call attention to the impossibility of 
 distinguishing between the influence of Plautus and^that of 
 Terence. The names '^Modern Terence" and *' Christian Ter- 
 ence" might lead to the supposition that such was not the 
 case, but in so far the names are misleading. Gnapheus expressed 
 his admiration of both the great Latin authors ; Crocus quotes 
 the Captivi and Heautontimorumenos in justifying the happy 
 ending of one of his plays. In the description of scenes like 
 those which portray the Prodigal's days of prodigality it is the 
 spontaneous, somewhat gross humor and fun of Plautus which 
 is followed rather than the more restrained and polished man- 
 ner of Terence. But to attempt anything like a real distinc- 
 tion between the elements derived from the one and from the 
 other is an utterly futile task. 
 
50 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 The Disobedient Child, ^ printed in 1560, but probably 
 written about the middle of the century, is one of the earliest 
 English plays undoubtedly modeled after the Christian drama 
 of the German Humanists. The author was Thomas Ingelend, 
 and he chose as the prototype for his drama the Studentes of 
 Stymmelius, which had appeared in 1549. The school atmos- 
 phere is ever present, a great deal of superfluous learning being 
 introduced, but a genuine attempt is also made to mirror the 
 life of the time, at least to a certain degree. The son's 
 aversion to entering "the house and prison of a schoolmaster" 
 who treats his pupils brutally, where 
 
 Their tender bodies both night and day- 
 Are whipped and scourged and beat like a stone, 
 That from top to toe the skin is away,^ 
 
 recalls Tusser's famous stanza, in which he has perpetuated 
 the memory of Udairs cruelties. Similar references to other 
 contemporary conditions may be seen in the father's lament 
 that "now-a-days . . . science and learning is so little 
 regarded,"' as also in the passage in which he reminds us of 
 the decay of the priesthood.* 
 
 The plot is very simple. A son, refusing to follow his father's 
 advice to devote himself to study, falls in love with a young 
 woman who seems to him the sum of all perfections. He mar- 
 ries her, and is only a very short time in learning that she is a 
 most terrible shrew. Stage directions of the kind, "Here the 
 Wife must strike her Husband handsomely about the shoulders 
 with something" become frequent in the latter part of the play. 
 The son, who is utterly cowed by his terrible wife, runs away 
 and returns to his father. The play has an "unhappy ending," 
 however, for although the father promises to alleviate to some 
 extent his son's pecuniary distresses he informs him that he 
 must return to his wife. The perorator then delivers a moral 
 epilogue on the text : Qui parcit virgae odit filium. 
 
 In Tlie Disobedient Child we have by no means a piece 
 entirely independent of the earlier English drama. Even the 
 Devil is introduced with his usual salutatory address "Ho, ho, 
 ho, what a fellow am I! " though his appearance does seem 
 
 » Dodsley, Vol, II, p. 263. 
 » Ibid., p. 273. 
 > Ibid., p. 280. 
 4 76tU,p. 297. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 5t 
 
 rather incongruous. There is no division into acts and scenes, 
 hut the play shows a real advance in structural art, — a juster 
 conception of plot as a progressively developing unity. Per- 
 haps the scene most suggestive of Plautus is that hetween 
 the man-cook and the maid-cook/ who are preparing for the 
 wedding festivities. The cook, as a stock character in comedy, 
 appears in a number of Plautus's plays but not at all in those 
 of Terence, for although Sanga, Thraso's cook, is a character 
 in the BunucJius, it is not in the role of cook but merely in 
 that of servant. In the above-mentioned scene of The Disobe- 
 dient Child we have reproduced the air of bustle, the 
 recriminations of the cooks, the enumerations of the different 
 kinds of meats which must be bought before the market be 
 past. Similar scenes of the Aulularia and the Fseudolus^ at 
 once suggest themselves. 
 
 Nice Wanton, written during the reign of Edward VI., but 
 printed in 1560, belongs to the same type, and is a homily on 
 the text: "He that spareth the rod, the child doth hate.'* 
 The story is of a son and a daughter, who, as a result of their 
 mother's over-indulgence enter upon wicked courses. The son 
 is eventually hanged, and the daughter dies of a loathsome 
 disease. Their brother, a very exemplary young man, who has 
 frequently given them many good counsels, prevents his^mother 
 from killing herself at the last, and addresses to her [many 
 reproaches and much good advice, reserving some of the latter, 
 however, for the audience. The interlude is very short, and 
 only occasionally is an approach made to effective portrayal of 
 character. The Vice of the Moralities appears in the person of 
 Iniquity, and the whole play represents but little progress 
 beyond the standard of a much earlier period. Its relation to 
 the cycle we have been considering, however, is clear. Brandl 
 calls it ^'eine deiitUche Bearheitung der Rehelles des nieder- 
 Idndischen Rectors Macropedius, doch mit allerlei originellen 
 Ver under ung en.'*'' * 
 
 The History of Jacoh and Esau, **a new meij and wittie 
 Comedie or Interlude," was licensed in 1557-58, and printed in 
 1568. The plot is the Biblical story of Jacob's defrauding 
 Esau of his birthright, but the comic element is emphasized by 
 
 » Page 281 ff. 
 
 » Cf., e.g., Pseudolus, Act I, Sc. ii, and Act III, Sc. ii; also, Aulularia, Act Illr 
 Scs. i and v. 
 
 3 Op. cit., LXXII. 
 
52 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 introducing non-Biblical characters. There is decidedly real- 
 istic portrayal of character and manners, and the moral 
 purpose is only very mildly insisted on. The striving for real- 
 ity is seen in the list of "The Parts and Names of the Players 
 who are to be considered to be Hebrews and so should be 
 apparelled with attire." The prologue gives the circumstances 
 and events antecedent to the point at which the play opens, 
 quite in the best style of the Latin comedy. How much the 
 author has gained from his models is rather strikingly shown 
 by the classical regularity of construction. A short analysis 
 will make this clearer. Act I consists of four scenes. Sc. i 
 presents to us the incon*igible Esau, who loves hunting, despises 
 his stay-at-home brother, and abuses his servant. In Sc. ii we 
 have a conversation' between two of Isaac's old neighbors, who, 
 while warmly approving of Jacob, indulge in gloomy forebod- 
 ings as to the final result of Esau's wicked life. In Sc. iii the 
 predilection of Rebekah for her younger son is brought out. 
 She arranges with Jacob that in some way he shall buy his 
 brother's birthright. In Sc. iv the characters are Isaac, 
 Eebekah, and Mido — *'the lad that leadeth blind Isaac." 
 Eebekah tries to persuade her aged husband to give the blessing 
 to Jacob rather than to Esau, but the old man steadfastly refuses : 
 
 The Lord after his way may change th' inheritance ; 
 But I may not wittingly break our ordinance. 
 
 The whole situation is thus presented to us, the future 
 compilications are foreshadowed, and we have been introduced 
 to all the important dramatis personae. 
 
 In Act II Esau, almost famished as a result of long enforced 
 abstinencjB from food, sells his birthright to Jacob for "a mess 
 of gross and homely pottage." But that this act will stir up 
 dissension in the future we are warned by Esau's speech to his 
 servant Ragan : 
 
 For if the time were come thinkest thou that Jacob 
 Should find Esau such a lout or such a lob 
 To suffer him to enjoy my birthright in rest? 
 Nay I will first toss him and trounce him of the best. 
 
 The second act then has introduced the elements of compli- 
 cation. 
 
 In Act III Esau visits his father, who commissions him to 
 bring some venison, having eaten of which he will give him his 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 53 
 
 blessing. Rebekah, on learning this, despatches Jacob to kill 
 two kids of the flock and so forestall his brother. The compli- 
 cation has now reached its height, and the drama has reached 
 the climax of its development along the line thus far pursued. 
 
 In Act IV Jacob, with his mother's connivance, obtains his 
 father's blessing by fraud, and the denouement has begun. 
 
 In Act V Esau learns the deception that has been practised 
 upon him. Jacob flees for safety into Mesopotamia, and 
 Eebekah finally persuades Esau to give a' promise (which he 
 does not intend to keep) to forget his malice toward his 
 brother. The play closes with a conventional moral epilogue 
 by the Poet, and prayers for the clergy, the Queen, the 
 Queen's councillors and the nobility. 
 
 I have analyzed this play thus at length in order to bring 
 out the distance which the author has traveled from the play- 
 wrights of only a short time before. It is just in this matter of 
 construction, as we have already seen, that the native drama had 
 so much to learn from the classical. We have seen how the 
 interludes of John Heywood, for example, presented real char- 
 acters, ""and presented them forcibly ; but his characterization 
 was generally developed through the medium of a number of 
 more or less loosely connected scenes which rarely rose to the 
 dignity of a unified, organic whole. In Jacoh and Esau we 
 have likewise real characterization, and the original figure of 
 the child Mido, with his naive, artless prattle, stands out with 
 particular clearness; but the author has learned in addition 
 to build a fairly effective framework, which gives stability and 
 unity to the whole. Only to a very slight extent are any of 
 the external characteristics of Latin comedy present in the play. 
 
 Misogonus^ so evidently belongs to the class of plays we are 
 considering in this chapter that although the scene is laid in 
 Italy, and it is just possible that the author was indebted to some 
 Italian source for the story, its treatment rightly belongs to the 
 division of our subject assigned to the dramas which were 
 chiefly influenced by the movement from Germany. Its 
 authorship is uncertain, having been variously assigned on 
 insufficient evidence to Richard Edwards, Thomas Rychardes, 
 and Robert Wilson. Professor Kittredge has recently examined 
 the question and tells us that *Hhe manuscript, which has 
 
 * Printed in Brandl's Quellen dea weltlichen Drama in England vor Shakespeare, 
 p. 419+. 
 
54 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 preserved the play, is signed under the list of dramatis per- 
 sonae, *Laurentiu8 Bariwna,' " and this man Professor Kit- 
 tredge is inclined to identify with Laurence Johnson, the 
 author of a CometograpMa,^ The only manuscript in which 
 the play is preserved — and this is a much mutilated one —bears 
 the date 1577 ; the year 1560 has been generally accepted as 
 the date of composition, but Professor Kittredge has shown 
 clearly the insuflBciency of the evidence in this case also. The 
 plot is once more a variation of the story of the Prodigal Son. 
 The play opens with a scene between Philogonus and his friend 
 Eupelas, in which the former laments the riotous life led by his 
 Bon Misogonus. An attempt on the part of Eupelas to restrain 
 the ill life of the young man results disastrously, and the 
 ambassador of peace escapes with difficulty from the attack of 
 Misogonus's servants, whose master rates them soundly for this 
 miscarriage of his plans. We next meet the young roue dis- 
 porting with Melissa {meretrix)^ and so lavish of his money is 
 he that a whole hogshead of the best muscadine is ordered. 
 One of the servants is sent to fetch Sir John, the parish priest, 
 who joins the party in games of cards and dice, and will not 
 desist even when his clerk comes to tell him that it is time for 
 evening service. Cacurgus, the fool, a sort of Ambidexter, who 
 keeps on friendly terms with Philogonus, as well as with his 
 reprobate son, brings the former, Eupelas, and an honest old 
 servant, Liturgus, to witness the scene of revelry. In the 
 third act Philogonus learns from a tenant, named Codrus, that 
 Misogonus is not his only son — that his wife had given birth to 
 twins, and had sent one of them secretly into Apolonia. 
 Codrus's wife, Alison, having confirmed this story, Liturgus is 
 despatched to bring home the long-lost brother — Eugonus by 
 name. He arrives, and is recognized by several women who 
 had been present at the time of his birth, and who know him 
 by the fact that he has an extra toe on one of his feet. 
 Misogonus, finally deserted by his servants, becomes repentant, 
 and is forgiven by his father. While the story would seem to 
 be thus concluded, the whole of the fifth act is missing. 
 
 The scene of the play is laid in Italy, but the whole 
 atmosphere is English. St. Paul's weathercock is mentioned, 
 and references to the social and religious life of contemporary 
 England abound. The author seems to have been familiar 
 
 » V. Journal of Germanic Philology, Vol. Ill, No. 3, 1901, p. 335. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 55 
 
 with the comedy of Ralph Roister Doisterj we have the expres- 
 eion **a good mery greke,"^ and one of the characters bears the 
 name of Madge Mumblecrust, which leads Brandl to surmise 
 that auch fiir die Ausmalung des Gesindes mag dem DicMer 
 diese stark nationalisierte PlautusnachMldung vorgeschwebenr 
 haben.* 
 
 The chief departure from the Biblical story of the Prodigal 
 Son — the very language of which is imitated in at least one 
 passage' — consists in the fact that the upright son is unknown 
 till near the close of the play, and that instead of resenting hia 
 brother's conduct he is eager to be on friendly terms with him. 
 On this point Brandl says: Woher die Anregung zu dieser 
 Figur stammen mag tvar mir lange rdthselhaft^ and then reject- 
 ing the superficial similarity to be found in plays like the 
 Menaechmi^ Captivi, and Foenulus, he propounds the theory 
 of a correspondence between certain scenes of Ariosto's / 
 Suppositi and the Misogonus, On this point I have not been 
 able to feel the cogency of Professor BrandPs argument even in 
 the slightest. In the first place he does not elucidate at all 
 the point which has been to him lange rdthselhaft^ nor, 
 secondly, has he established any real correspondence between 
 the two plays. In the scene of the / Suppositi, cited by him, 
 we have to do with the case of a father, Filogano, who has come 
 to visit his son, Erostrato. On arriving at the house of the 
 latter the old man is refused ingress, and finds that a guest of 
 the house announces himself as the father of Erostrato, and 
 calls himself Filogano. Furthermore when the owner of the 
 house appears, Filogano recognizes in him the servant of hi& 
 son parading under the name of the latter. The father is at 
 once filled with fears as to what may have been the fate of his 
 son, and in his perplexity asks advice of his companion, and 
 beseeches God to do justice. In Misogonus there is no such 
 complication. The son fiouts his father to his face and 
 refuses to give up his evil life. Whereupon Philogonus 
 demands of his friend Eupelas : 
 
 Did you ere here of man in more mlserye than I? 
 
 Eupelas comforts him and advises him *Ho trust in Christ 
 Jhesus alone," and Philogonus warmly agrees that this advice 
 
 » Act II, Sc. iv, V. 121. 
 
 « Op. eit., LXXIX. 
 
 > Ct, e.g., Act IV, Sc. V, V. 43 ff. 
 
56 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 is best. Even this point of correspondence on which Professor 
 Brandl seems to lay stress is scarcely worthy of being called a 
 correspondence. In Ariosto the bewildered father, accom- 
 panied only by a servant and a picked-up acquaintance, simply 
 cries out to God for justice; in the Misogonus Philogonus's 
 friend gives him as comfort some rather conventional advice, 
 which is accepted. The whole resemblance seems to consist in 
 the fact that two fathers, who for different reasons find 
 themselves in perplexity, ask advice, one crying out to God for 
 justice, the other being advised "to trust in Christ Jhesus" for 
 comfort, all of which is surely tantamount to saying that there 
 is but a slight resemblance, and one which has no cogency. 
 The argument that in each play a long-lost son is restored 
 durch eine Namenserinnerung und ein Korpermal^ is not strictly 
 accurate. In Ariosto the mention of a name does lead on to 
 the discovery of a son, while in Misogonus, after the discovery 
 has been made, an old woman, whose testimony is wanted as 
 confirmatory evidence, half remembers, half recognizes when it 
 is mentioned to her, the name of the long-lost one. As to the 
 Korpermal, that is common to both plays probably because each 
 derived it from the same source — Ariosto from the Captivi of 
 Plautus, the author of Misogonus from some Latin drama of 
 Germany based on the work of Plautus. The distinguish- 
 ing mark, it may be noticed, is different in each case; — 
 in the Misogonus it is an extra toe, in the Suppositi a. mole 
 on the left shoulder — as very frequently in Plautus. On the 
 whole we may conclude that there is no evidence for believing 
 that the author of Misogomis was at all acquainted with 1 
 Suppositi, which had to wait till 1566 for its first English 
 translation. 
 
 The indebtedness of the general plot of the Misogonus to 
 the Plautine drama is at once apparent. A father lamenting 
 the graceless life led by his son, and applying to his old neigh- 
 bor for comfort and advice, the complete abandonment of the 
 son to his evil ways, the picturing of his life of feasting and 
 revelry while in the toils of the meretrix and of the parasite — for 
 the latter is essentially the role played by Sir John — and the 
 denouement in which the discovery of a long-lost child by some 
 **privie mark" upon the body is followed by a general reconcil- 
 iation of all parties, — such a description might well apply to the 
 type piece of which many of Plautus 's dramas are variations. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 57 
 
 At the same time the direct connection with the Acolastus is 
 perfectly clear as Professor Brandl has shown.* 
 
 The last play which we have to deal with in this connec- 
 tion is Gascoigne's Glasse of Government^ — of all English plays 
 perhaps the most representative of the complete adaptation of 
 the Prodigal Son motif to the general form of Roman comedy. 
 It was printed in 1575, and was probably written not much 
 before that. For an outline of the plot I can not do better 
 than quote Professor Harford's succinct synopsis:^ *'Two 
 Antwerp burghers, Phylopaes and Phylocalus, have each two 
 sons, the elder in both cases of the kindred of the Prodigal 
 Son, while the younger are exemplary youths of an unreal type. 
 Anxious for their welfare, the two fathers seek out a wise and 
 godly teacher, one Gnomaticus, whose discourses, very une- 
 qually composed of classics and of the teaching which Aristotle 
 thought unwholesome for young men, occupy much of the 
 first two acts. Unfortunately, Phylantus and Phylosarchus, 
 the two elder sons, who learn the lesson soonest, are the first 
 to forget it. The temptations of the town are let loose upon 
 them in the person of a fascinating parasite, Eccho, who, after 
 obtaining a holiday for them on the pretext of an invitation 
 from the 'Markgrave,' introduces Phylosarchus to a local 
 Cressida, called Lamia, and her *aunt' Pandarina. And so 
 while the younger brothers are laboriously pursuing rhymes for 
 a verse composition on Duty, Phylosarchus is already in the 
 toils of the meretrix. The adventure soon comes to the ears of 
 the two fathers, who anxiously take counsel with Gnomaticus. 
 He advises that they shall be sent at once without warning to 
 the neighboring university of Douay. A sumptuous meal pre- 
 pared for them at Lamia's house accordingly awaits them in 
 vain, and the parasite and his crew are arrested by order of the 
 Markgrave. Presently arrives a report from Douay to the 
 effect that the 'Prodigals' have only changed the scene of their 
 amours. Crime is added to vice, the plot thickens with 
 increasing rapidity, months of action are crowded into minutes 
 of narrative. Finally, while Eccho is still awaiting sentence, 
 news arrives that the two incorrigibles have met their reward. 
 Both in fact have fallen into hands not accustomed to pardon 
 
 * For the close correspondence between the Miaogonua and the Acolastus. v. 
 Brandl, op. cit., LXXVIII ft. 
 
 « Literary Relations^ etc., pp. 150-151. 
 
68 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 or indulge: Phylosarchus having been flogged for fornication 
 in the city of Calvin ; and his brother executed for murder in 
 Calvinist Heidelberg. The two younger sons, meantime, by a 
 coincidence not infrequent in stories of this type, have reached 
 distinction and influence in the same quarters ; — the one as a 
 minister at Geneva, the other as secretary to the Palsgrave." 
 As to the origin of the Glasse of Government, Professor 
 Herf ord has shown almost to a certainty its connection with the 
 general dramatic cycle the great representatives of which are 
 the AcolastuSy Studenfes, and Rehelles^ Moreover, we know 
 that not only had these plays a considerable vogue in England, 
 but that in 1572-73 Gascoigne visited Holland in a military 
 capacity. The whole atmosphere of the piece is that presented 
 by Plautus and Terence. "A brief examination of the play,'* 
 says Professor Herf ord, "shows that it was written like the 
 Acolastus with a very vivid recollection of Roman comedy. "* 
 The fact that the author in the prologue denies the connection, 
 affirming that he presents 
 
 No Terence phrase ; his time and mine are twain ; 
 The' verse that pleased a Roman's rash intent 
 Might well offend the godly Preacher's vein, 
 
 if significant at all, is significant to the establishing of 
 the relationship. Such condemnation of the ancient comedy 
 was common in its imitators, and in the present case the 
 author's admiration of the Latin drama, in one particular at 
 least, appears in the admission of Gnomaticus to his pupils that 
 **out of Terence may also be gathered many morall enstructions 
 amongst the rest of his wanton discourses." The stock char- 
 acters of the procuress Pandarina, the courtesan Lamia, and the 
 parasite Eccho, are pictured as quite of the same species as 
 those of Plautus. Eccho, though serving in the capacity of 
 servant to the courtesan, has the true parasite's love of gorg- 
 ing,^ and shows a supreme indifference to all notions of loyalty 
 to his mistress. "When the Crowes feet groweth under her 
 eye, why then no more adoe, but ensineuate thy selfe with such 
 another." Of Lamia we see little, but she appears attractive, 
 and is genuinely in love with Phylosarchus, so much so that 
 Eccho, noticing that she is becoming emaciated and pale, is led 
 
 * For detailed comparison, v. Herford, op. cit., p. 162. 
 a Op. cit., p. 160. 
 8 See Act IV, Sc. v. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM GERMANY 59 
 
 to exclaim: **Fye, fie, what meaneth she? . . . She beareth 
 l)ut evill in remembraunce the good documentes of that vertu- 
 ous olde Lady her Aunte." The latter is very little in 
 evidence, but is apparently quite of the type of those of her 
 prof ession presented in the CisteUaria and CurcuUo. The con- 
 versation of the servants, Dick Droom and Eccho, relative to 
 the preparation of the banquet,* suggests similar scenes in 
 Plautus. "Whipping scenes and references to fchem; Eccho's 
 sentence: "Carrie him to the mill and there let him be 
 whipped every day thrice"; the rewarding*of Fidus, the faith- 
 ful slave of Phylopaes, by giving him his liberty, — all recall at 
 once stock situations of Roman comedy. It is interesting to 
 note that Ambidexter, the Vice, is brought upon the stage as a 
 character. 
 
 We have thus concluded a brief survey of the chief ^English 
 dramatic pieces upon which Plautus and Terence exercised an 
 influence through the medium of the Latin plays of the 
 German Humanists. This influence has not shown itself in 
 the adaptation of any particular play of the Latin comedy- 
 writers. Only stock characters and situations have been repro- 
 duced, now almost literally, now with a change. The chief 
 -effect of this movement, together with that of the study of 
 Plautus and the representation of plays in the schools, which 
 we noticed in the last chapter, is of such a nature that 
 it is difficult to lay one's finger on special passages. It 
 consisted in teaching the English playwriters how to give real 
 unity to their productions, to combine accurate delineation of 
 character with skillful development of plot, and to dispose the 
 material of a play in the most effective manner possible. In a 
 word. Englishmen learned dramatic technique from the study 
 and imitation of Latin comedy, and in this way was shortened 
 — by how long a period we can only speculate — the time which 
 must have elapsed between the perfecting of the interlude of 
 the type of Hey wood's pieces and the birth of legitimate 
 <5omedy. 
 
 * See Act IV, Scs. iii and v. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE INFLUENCE FEOM ITALY 
 
 The impulse which ended in the Renaissance of learning, 
 not only for England but for European countries in general, 
 had originated in Italy, — the storehouse of the monuments of 
 ancient greatness. The wealth of literary treasure which she 
 possessed had been equaled only by the enthusiasm with which 
 it was utilized, and the honor in which it was held. And 
 though England had come to share in the newly-found riches 
 at a period when the attraction of novelty had, in part, passed 
 away for the scholars of France and Italy, it was still from 
 Italy that she drank in the larger inspiration rather than 
 through any intermediate channel. The great literary move- 
 ment of the first half of the century had been an eminently 
 normal one. For Englishmen the Renaissance had been a renais- 
 sance of learning, a re-acquiring of thorough and appreciative 
 acquaintance with the literary classics of antiquity ; but great as 
 was the devotion paid to the works of the past, it was never 
 so complete or so headlong as to result in the eradication of 
 national ideals or the complete substitution of foreign models. 
 How radically the development of the English drama was mod- 
 ified by the fact that the playwi'iters had come to know and 
 admire the drama of Rome we have already seen in part. But 
 it was a modification, the healthy, normal action of a potent 
 influence, not the contemptuous desertion of indigenous models 
 to make way for the establishment of a foreign drama. In 
 Italy it had been different. The classical literature, especially 
 the Latin drama, had met with a reception so devoted and 
 uncritical that it had effected, not a modification of the Italian 
 representations, but a complete revolution. We have noticed how 
 enthusiastically the study of Plautus was resumed, and how fre- 
 quently his plays and those of his imitators were placed upon 
 the boards. For example, in 1502 when Lucrezia Borgia came to 
 Ferrara as the bride of Alfonso d'Este, part of the wedding 
 festivities consisted in the representation of five different plays 
 of Plautus — the Epidiciis^ Bacchides, Miles Gloriosus, Asinariay 
 
 60 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM ITALY 6l 
 
 and Casina — on as many successive days. Ariosto's / Suppositi 
 was played in 1519 in the theatre which had heen built by the 
 pope, and Leo himself was one of the most interested specta- 
 tors. The sacre rappresentazioni, though they long continued 
 to be acted and printed, fell into contempt, and the models of 
 Latin comedy reigned supreme. Even the most pronounced 
 of later developments remained in close relation to this 
 standard, and consisted chiefly in a loose adaptation of the 
 picturing of contemporary social life to the demands made 
 by the mould and essential characteristics of the plays of 
 Plautus and Terence. This tendency toward independent 
 development was carried farthest by Aretino, who laughs at 
 the unities and some of what he considered the more absurd 
 conventions by which natural, direct expression was shackled, 
 and portrays his characters in a series of vigorous, pointed 
 scenes, which together make up a sadly disjointed, amorphous 
 product. But even in Aretino 's drama, although it pictures 
 faithfully contemporary life, and is clothed in vigorous, terse, 
 original language, we are still close to the world of Latin 
 comedy. One explanation of this may be found inHhe parallel 
 suggested by Mr. Symonds between the conditions of life pre- 
 vailing in Greece at the time of the New Comedy, and in Italy 
 at the period we are discussing. Another reason is doubtless 
 to be found in the fact that both Plautus and Aretino picture 
 society largely from the point of view of the lower classes, and 
 with a frankness and lack of reserve which is often the veriest 
 vulgarity. In the farsa Italy had a native growth similar to 
 that of England, but instead of contributing to the building up 
 of a national drama it became atrophied and dead. In the 
 words of Mr. Symonds: ^J'Plautus and Terence, Ariosto and 
 Macchiavelli, not nature, were their sources of inspiration. 
 Mistakes between two brothers, confusions of sex, discoveries 
 that poor girls are the lost daughters of princely parents form 
 the staple of their plots. "^ 
 
 Italian literature had come to exercise a strong influence 
 over Englishmen by the beginning of the third decade of the 
 century. Wyatt died in 1542, and Surrey in 1547, and their 
 names are remembered as those of the leaders in one of the 
 greatest movements which have marked the course of our liter- 
 ature. The Petrarchan lyric had been planted in English soil, 
 
 ^ Italian Literature, Vol. II, p. 122. 
 
62 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 and had flourished vigorously, and the sonnet and blank verse 
 had become acquisitions of English literary workers. It was 
 somewhat later that the Italian drama began to attract the 
 attention of Englishmen, though unfortunately our information 
 on this subject is not as accurate as could be wished. Many 
 of the names of plays which are now lost suggest their connec- 
 tion with Italian scenes or plots. But we have the positive 
 statement of Arthur Brooke, when in 1562 he printed a 
 poetical translation of Bandello's story of Romeo and Juliet^ 
 that a play bearing the same name had been represented before 
 that date. In the next year Eobert Wilmot produced his 
 Tancred and Gismunda, based on the story related by 
 Boccaccio. In 1566 the first volume of Painter's Palace of 
 Pleasure appeared, and the second volume in the succeeding 
 year. It met with immediate and wonderful success ; in 1569 
 was published a second edition of the first volume, and in 1575 
 the whole work was reprinted. In 1566 Gascoigne's transla- 
 tion of Ariosto's / Suppositi had been played at Gray's Inn, 
 and the Jocasta (which is not directly from the Greek, but a 
 literal translation of Dolce 's play imitated from Seneca's ver- 
 sion) appeared during the same year. How generally Italian 
 literature was known in England at this period we learn from 
 a passage in Ascham's Schoolmaster, written about 1568. 
 "These be the enchantments of Circes, brought out of Italy, 
 to mar men's manners in England; much by example of ill life, 
 but more by precepts of fond books, of late translated out of 
 Italian into English, sold in every shop in London; com- 
 mended by honest titles, the sooner to corrupt honest manners ; 
 dedicated over-boldly to virtuous and honourable personages, 
 the easilier to beguile simple and innocent wits."^ **And that 
 which is most to be lamented, and therefore more needful to 
 be looked to, there be more of these ungracious books set out 
 in print within these few months, than have been seen in 
 England many score years before. And because our English- 
 men made Italians cannot hurt but certain persons, and in 
 certain places, therefore these Italian books are made English, 
 to bring mischief enough openly and boldly to all states, great 
 and mean, young and old, everywhere."^ Ascham was evi- 
 
 » Roger Ascham's Works, Roger Giles ed., Vol. Ill, p. 157. 
 « Op. eit. p. 160. 
 
THE Influence from italy 63 
 
 dently a thorough believer in the old saying — Inglese italianato 
 e un diavolo incarnato. 
 
 Toward the end of the century the acquaintance of English- 
 men with Italian literature became much more extensive, as the 
 translation of many of the greatest Italian classics testifies. 
 Every student of Shakspere is familiar with the importance of 
 the works of the Italian novellieri as storehouses from which the 
 plots of English plays were derived. Stephen Gosson, in his 
 Plays Confuted in Five Actions, says: "I may boldly say it, 
 because I have seen it, that the * Palace of ^^Pleasure,* *The 
 Golden Ass,' *The Ethiopian History,' *Amadis of France' and 
 'The Round Table,' bawdy comedies in Latin, French, Italian, 
 and Spanish, have been thoroughly ransacked to furnish the 
 play-houses in London." 
 
 It would be aside from our purpose to consider in detail the 
 effect of Italian literature on the development of the English 
 Bomantic drama, though the commedia delV arte, the pastoral 
 drama, and the drama of intrigue, all probably played an 
 important part. In the work of Aretino and his school, 
 especially in their contempt for regularity of form and for the 
 observance of the more artificial dramatic conventions, 
 *' Romantic" ideals had been already attained. But Italian 
 comedy had remained persistently classical in spirit, even 
 adopting the conventional characterization of its prototype, 
 and it is with this infiuence of the Latin drama through 
 the Italian that we are here concerned. Of many pieces 
 it is difficult to speak positively. It is more than 
 probable that the Damon and Pithias (1564-65?) of Richard 
 Edwardes should be considered in this connection. In many 
 places it bears the marks of contact with the ancient drama 
 or some of its modern imitations. Damon and] Pithias give 
 thanks to Neptune for their safe journey on the sea — a 
 frequent occurrence in Plautus. There is a beating scene and 
 parasites play a considerable part, but they are simply cruel, 
 grasping, faithless, and quite different from ^the hungry 
 wretches of Plautus. The fact that the piece contains a mix- 
 ture of comic and tragic scenes (it calls itself "a new tragical 
 comedy"), and that in one place there is a time-gap of two 
 months, at least suggest Italian influence in the '* Romantic" 
 direction, the term being here used not only in reference to 
 structure, but to dramatic conventions in a more general way. 
 
64 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 That this development of English drama was aided by Italian 
 examples is practically certain,^ and Damon and Pitliias is 
 quite probably one of the earliest examples. The scene of the 
 Misogonus (which Fleay on very insufficient evidence believes 
 to be the work of the same author), is laid in Italy, and there 
 are other indications which make it probable that the plot was. 
 derived from an Italian source. But two dramas, both cer- 
 tainly drawn from Italian sources, and both showing the 
 influence of Latin comedy in a marked degree, are of chief 
 interest to us here, — The Supposes^ and Promos and Cassandra, 
 The Supposes^ a practically literal translation of Ariosto's / 
 Suppositi^ and the earliest extant specimen of an English prose 
 comedy was the work of George Gascoigne, and was produced 
 at Gray's Inn in 1566. Mr. Collier thinks that the author of 
 the translation used the earlier prose version of Ariosto's work, 
 while adopting some of the alterations to be found in the 
 later verse form.* / Suppositi may be taken as a represent- 
 ative of the perfect adaptation of Latin comedy to the 
 portrayal of contemporary Italian life, and furnishes us in its 
 English version a good example of the strongly classical influ- 
 ence which Italian dramatic literature was exercising on that of 
 England. A short sketch of the play will make our observa- 
 tions more definite: Erostrato, son of Philogano, has come 
 from Sicilia to Ferrara for the purpose of study. Falling in 
 love with Polynesta, the daughter of Damon, he exchanges 
 name, clothes, and station with his servant Dulipo, and takes 
 service with the father of the young lady. The plan succeeds, 
 and with the help of Balia the nurse he lives in the constant 
 enjoyment of his mistress. Cleander, a wealthy and stupid old 
 doctor, is a suitor for Polynesta's hand. Pasiphilo, a parasite, 
 flatters him ridiculously in order to get invited to dinner, but 
 is equally ready to serve the feigned Erostrato, who by this 
 means learns of all Cleander's movements. He reports to his 
 master that Cleander is about to marry Polynesta, whereupon 
 the lover is ready to faint away. The resourceful slave, how- 
 
 1 Cf. Ward, Hist. Eng. Dram. Lit., Vol. I, p. 210. 
 
 2 The Supposes was one of the direct sources of Shakspere's T?ie Taming of 
 the Shrew. For the relation of Shakspere's play to its original, v. Shakespeare's 
 Part in ''The Taming of the Shrew,''— A. H. Tolman in Mod. Lang. Pub., Vol. V, No. 
 4, 1890. 
 
 8 Roxburghe Library edition (1869), The Complete Poems of George^ Gascoigne^ 
 ed. Hazlitt, Vol. I, p. 199. 
 
 * Collier, Hist. Eng. Poet., Ill, p. 6. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM ITALY 65 
 
 ever, revives him by the recital of his plans. The previous 
 evening he had met an old gentleman from Scienna, and had 
 persuaded him that there was great danger in being found in 
 Ferrara, on account of a recent quarrel between the two cities. 
 Accordingly he had offered to shelter the old man in his house, 
 and had instructed him to call himself Philogano, father of 
 Erostrato. The plan of the wily servant is to make this 
 feigned father give security for his son's wealth to the father 
 of Polynesta. A servant's quarrel betrays to Damon the 
 manner of his daughter's life, and he casts her lover into 
 prison, still believing him to be merely one of his household 
 attendants. Meanwhile the true Philogano has arrived to visit 
 his son. On proceeding to the house of the latter he ia 
 refused entrance by the servant, who declares that his master's 
 father is within. The old man from Scienna appears on the 
 scene, and when Philogano protests that he is Erostrato '» 
 father, the cook at length drives him off. When the feigned 
 Erostrato appears, Philogano at once recognizes in him Dulipo, 
 and is filled with fear as to the fate of his son. Dulipo, how- 
 ever, brazens out the part he has to play, and Philogano finally 
 determines to apply to Oleander for help. A result of this is- 
 the discovery that Dulipo is the long-lost son of Oleander, who 
 had been taken prisoner by the Turks at the capture of 
 Otranto, and later bought by Philogano. The recognition is 
 made complete by the fact that Dulipo has known his mother's 
 name, and had a mole on his left shoulder. The explanation 
 and happy conclusion follow swiftly. The real Erostrato is to 
 marry Polynesta with the consent of both Damon and Philo- 
 gano, while Oleander, rejoicing in his son so unexpectedly 
 found, withdraws his claims to the young woman, and gives 
 his blessing to his rival. 
 
 The origin of the plot is fairly clear. Erostrato 's changing 
 places with his servant in order to arrive at the enjoyment of 
 his mistress is imitated from the Eunuchus of Terence, though 
 with a difference, while the self-sacrifice and devotion of the 
 young slave, who turns out to be a|! freeman and the son of a 
 wealthy father, is practically the situation presented in the 
 Captivi of Plautus. The flouting and driving away of 
 Philogano from his son's house suggests the similar scene in 
 the Amphitruo, where the master is driven from his own house 
 as an impostor. To connect the plot with that of the Menaech^ 
 
66 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 mi, however, as Reinhardstoettner does^ is not admissible, for 
 the mistaken identity on which the whole similarity rests is 
 common to a number of Plautus's dramas. The whole air of 
 the piece is purely that of the world of Eoman comedy. In 
 Pasiphilo we have the greedy parasite who flatters, seeks din- 
 ners, and is the friend of whichever rival will feed him. The 
 clever, intriguing servant manages everything, while his 
 master sits down and bemoans his lot, begging his slave to 
 revive him ; the latter is a man of infinite resource and 
 addresses his master in a tone of half -respectful superiority." 
 Many references or situations may also be paralleled in Plautus, 
 e.g., the references to the exactions of custom-house officers,' 
 the knocking at the gate until it is almost broken down,* the 
 parasite's superintending the preparations in the kitchen,^ the 
 cook's enumeration of dishes,** the reference to escape from 
 shipwreck.^ The discovery of the long-lost child by the inevi- 
 table mole on the left shoulder is frequently met with in 
 Plautus, and the central comic principle, viz., the mistaking 
 of one person for another owing to some thin disguise, is per- 
 haps the commonest of comic motifs in the ancient drama. 
 The frequent directions for improvisation may perhaps be con- 
 sidered as one of the features of Italian drama derived from the 
 commedia delV arte, now first introduced into England. In 
 later English plays such a practice was by no means uncom- 
 mon, — we have an example in The Birthe of Hercules — and 
 there can be little doubt as to its origin. 
 
 Promos and Cassandra,^ from which Shakspere took the 
 plot of Measure for Measure, was printed in 1578, and was 
 founded on a novel from La Seconda Parte degli Hecatommithi 
 di M. Oiovanbatista Giraldi Cinthio. The source of the 
 Plautine influence upon the play, which, as we shall see, was 
 comparatively slight, it is not possible to locate. The author, 
 George Whetstone, may have incorporated the Latin char- 
 acteristics as a result of his direct acquaintance with the 
 
 » Reinhardstoettner, Plautus, p. 332. 
 
 « Cf., e.g., the similar relations between Pseudolus and Calidorus in the 
 Pteudolua. 
 
 * Of. the similes in Aainaria, Act I, pafsim. Also, cf. reference in Trinummvs, 
 toward end of Act III, Sc. iv. "^ 
 
 * Cf. Moatellaria, Act II, Sc. i. 
 
 » Cf. Captivi, Act IV, Sc. iii, and Act V, Sc. i. 
 
 • Cf. Captivi, Act IV, Sc. ii. 
 
 » Cf. Trinummus, Act IV, Sc. i, and MoateUaria, Act II, Sc. 1. 
 
 • ahakespeare'8 Library, ed. Hazlitt, Vol. VI. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM ITALY 67 
 
 works of Plautus, or he may have heen influenced by that 
 very Italian drama the effect of which in England he so much 
 deprecated. Whetstone was a warm admirer of classic regu- 
 larity in the drama, and had an intense dislike of the "Roman- 
 tic" vagaries in which he saw most of the writers of his time 
 indulging. In an introductory letter to his friend, William Fleet- 
 woode, he expounds his views — not dissimilar from those of Sid- 
 ney — adding one more unavailing obstacle to the progress of the 
 mighty stream of tendency which was about to reconstruct the 
 dramatic ideals of the world. The play is presented in two 
 parts, "for that. Decorum used, it would not be convayde in 
 one." Speaking of his moral purpose in writing the play, the 
 author says: "And to these ends: Menander Plautus and 
 Terence, themselves many yeares since intombed (by their Com- 
 medies) in honour, live at this daye. The auncient Romanes 
 heald these showes of suche prise, that they not onely allowde 
 the publike exercise of them, but the grave Senators them- 
 selves countenaunced the Actors with their presence : who from 
 these trifles wonne morallytye, as the Bee suckes the honny 
 from weedes. But the advised devises of auncient Poets, dis- 
 credited, with the tryfels of yonge, unadvised and rashe witted 
 wryters, hath brought this commendable exercise in mislike. 
 For at this daye, the Italian is so lascivious in his commedies, 
 that honest hearers are greeved at his actions : the Frenchman 
 ^nd Spaniarde f olowes the Italians humor : the Germaine is too 
 holye: for he presentes on everye common Stage, what 
 Preachers should pronounce in Pulpets. The Englishman in 
 this quallitie, is most vaine, indiscreete, and out of order: he 
 fyrst groundes his worke on impossibilities: then in three 
 howers roames he throwe the worlde : marryes, gets Children, 
 makes Children men, men to conquer Kingdomes, murder 
 monsters, and bringeth Gods from Heaven, and f etcheth Divels 
 from Hel. And (that which is worst) their ground is not so 
 unperf ect, as their working indiscreete : not waying, so the 
 people laugh, though they laugh them (for theyr folleys) to 
 Bcorne: Manye tymes (to make mirthe) they make a Clowne 
 companion with a Kinge: in theyr grave Counsels, they allow 
 the advise of fooles: yea, they use one order of speach for 
 all persons: a grose Indecorum, for a Crowe, will yll coun- 
 terfet the nightingales sweete voice : even so affected speeche 
 doth misbecome a Clowne. For to work a Commedie kindly, 
 
68 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 grave olde men, should instruct : yonge men should showe 
 the imperfections of youth: Strumpets should be lasciv- 
 ious: Boyes unhappy: and Clownes, should be disorderly: 
 intermingling all these actions, in such sorte, as the grave mat- 
 ter, may instruct; and the pleasant, delight: for without this 
 chaunge, the attention; would be small : and the likinge, lesse. ' * 
 That Whetstone was a thorough-going admirer of the classics, 
 and of classical ideals in the way of dramatic work, is very 
 clear, and it is no less evident that he was fully alive to the 
 importance of the change which was working itself out in the 
 English drama of his time. It is not improbable that it was 
 as an example of what he considered a true play that he 
 wrote Promos and Cassandra., for it certainly had not been 
 acted several years after appearing in print, and as far as we 
 know has never attained that honor. The action is slow and 
 wearisome, especially in the second part, and the author's 
 success in preserving "Decorum" has evidently made it impos- 
 sible for him to incorporate more desirable qualities. Although 
 the play announces itself as "divided into two Commical 
 Discourses" the comic part forms only a very small portion 
 of the whole, unless indeed the author used the term in 
 reference to the "happy ending" of the play. The relation 
 to Latin comedy consists only in the scenes which deal with 
 Lamia, the courtesan, and the characters who centre about 
 her. The opening speech which she makes at the beginning 
 of the play at once proclaims her the stock courtesan and pro- 
 curess in one. A maid and man-servant report to her, the 
 latter of whom is closely related to the stock parasite — being 
 chiefly concerned as to the getting of his daily bread. Lamia 
 gloats over the fact that she lives in such luxury, and as to the 
 question of who pays for it, 
 
 Thou thy selfe? No the rushing Youthes that bathe in wanton blisse, 
 Yea, olde and doating fooles sometimes, doo helpe to paye for this. 
 
 Her absolutely unfeeling selfishness is constantly exemplified. 
 The scene in which the maid-servant, Dalia, is going to market 
 to prepare for a dinner (Part I, Act IV, Sc. i) is very suggest- 
 ive of the general situation of which Plautus has numerous 
 variations. Dalia is very similar to her mistress and dispenses 
 her favors only for a money consideration. Slight as is the 
 part played by these characters their origin is perfectly apparent. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM ITALY 69 
 
 and the mention of Menander, Plautus, and Terence in the 
 introductory letter is unnecessary to direct us to their comedies 
 for the prototypes of certain scenes of Promos and Gassmidra. 
 We have already noticed that the Plautine-Terentian drama 
 of Italy exercised its influence upon the Latin plays produced 
 in the English universities. From no other source, indeed, did 
 these plays derive so many of their plots and leading character- 
 istics. In the article already quoted on this suhject, after a 
 reference to the ausserordentlich reicJie Ausbildung of the 
 Plautine-Terentian comedy in Italy, we are told that unter den 
 Universitdtsstilchen finden wir manche Bearheitung eines 
 italienischen VorUldes} In the two well-known school come- 
 dies — the Bellum Grammaticale and the Paedantius (both of 
 which are mentioned by Sir John Harrington in his Apology 
 for Poetry^ 1591) we have clear traces of the influence of Koman 
 comedy, though it is not clear whether this influence was com- 
 municated through an Italian or a German medium. In 
 the Bellum Grammaticale Hie and Ubique are the hungry 
 parasites, and each mocks the other with regard to his 
 insatiable appetite. In the Paedantiu^ we have a parasite and 
 a maid who has to be bought from her master, while the central 
 purpose of the author is to laugh at the pedantry, shallowness, 
 and vanity of the schoolmaster. We thus have a picture which 
 recalls the similar one in the Bacchides of Plautus. Of the 
 plays which are derived directly from Italian imitations of 
 Roman comedy the following are the chief : — ^ 
 Laelia,*" which was played at Queen's College, Cambridge, in 
 1590, and again in 1598, is eine lateinisclie Bearbeitung der 
 Ingannati. The heroine wears male attire and takes 
 service with her lover in order to overcome the obstacles in 
 the way of their passion for each other. (Compare the 
 situation in / Suppositi or the Eunuchus.) The general 
 atmosphere rather than any particular situation of Roman 
 comedy is reproduced. In the words of the author of the 
 article before referred to. Das Lustspiel ist im allgemeinen 
 PlautiniscJi. The play concludes : 
 
 Honoratissimi viri, honoratissimi inquam et gravissimi viri 
 Cum meo Cicerone plausum date Vel potiiis cum Plauto, plaudite. 
 
 » Shakespeare Jahrbuch, Vol. XXXIV, p. 271. 
 
 9/6ifl;.,p. 276. 
 
 ' For synopses of the plays v. o;?. dt. 
 
 * Op. ciL, p. 291. 
 
70 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 SilvanuSy^ which was played at Cambridge in 1596, contains, 
 we are told, viele meist wortliche Nachahmungen von 
 Seneca^ auch von Plautus. 
 Hispanus^ was also played at Cambridge in the same year. It 
 is the stock situation — the difficulty of getting possession 
 of a mistress — and both the slaves and the hungry parasite 
 play their parts. Dass die Komodie voll Plautinischer 
 Nachahmung ist geht aus ihrem Inlialt hlar hervor. 
 Dihtion und Humor stammen zum grossten Theile 
 daher.'^^^ 
 Leander,^ which was first played in 1598, is derived from 
 Giovanni Battista della Porta' s comedy La Fantesca^ which 
 was printed at Venice in 1592. 
 Labyrinthus,* preserved to us in the same MS., and played in 
 1602, may possibly have been written a little earlier. It 
 takes its plot from La Cintia^ another comedy by della 
 Porta. 
 
 In both the above plays the central motif is the 
 attempt to get possession of a mistress. In both much 
 of the complication is due to the disguise effected by 
 changing clothes. In both there are scenes in which the 
 servant is severely beaten by his master. In Laiyrinthus 
 we have the hungry parasite. 
 Zelotypus^ was probably played between 1600 and 1603, and is 
 derived from some unknown Italian source. Here we 
 have the stock characters of hungry parasite, leno, Una, 
 and meretrices. The husband pretends to go into the 
 country, but really remains to spy upon his wife ; cf . the 
 somewhat similar situation in the Mercator,^ The wife, 
 who is innocent, complains that her husband tortures her 
 more than Amphitruo did Alcmena. 
 It is, perhaps, worth while to notice that the author of 
 Hymenaeus (a play which is apparently quite unrelated to Roman 
 comedy) justifies his taking a plot from Boccaccio by the exam- 
 ple of Terence: haec a Bocatii f alula longe magis est alia 
 quant a Colace Menandri Eunuclius Terentii. 
 
 » Op. cit., p. 294. 
 > Op. cit., I,. 300. 
 s Op. cit., p. 303. 
 * Op. cit., p. 308. 
 » Op. cit., p. 313. 
 « Mercator, Act IV, Sc. iii. 
 
THE INFLUENCE FROM ITALY 71 
 
 In the development of early English dramatic literature the 
 influence of Italian plays was thrown on the side of the new 
 Komantic comedy, and of the English plays which we have 
 considered in this chapter Promos and Cassandra was produced 
 in direct protest against the new movement. But with the 
 beginning of the last decade of the century, when classical 
 drama once more revived, there can be no doubt that the reac- 
 tionary movement, initiated by the direct study of the classics, 
 was largely aided by the acquaintance which Englishmen had 
 attained with Italian dramas informed with the same spirit. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 shakspere's predecessors 
 
 Italian literature, then, was exercising a strong influence 
 over that of England at this period. Collections of Italian 
 novels were the storehouses from which many dramatists derived 
 their plots, the great epics of Italy were translated and widely 
 read in England, and Italian dramas were both translated 
 and imitated. The preponderating weight of the influence of 
 Italian literature was not on the side of the classics. The 
 history of the period from 1580 to 1590 is the history of the 
 early growth of the Romantic drama, and although the ancient 
 models were not ignored, it is rather surprising how little effect 
 they had on the dramatic work of men whose training had 
 been derived from one or other of the great universities. 
 Examples are by no means lacking, however, especially in 
 the period immediately preceding the beginning of the ninth 
 decade of the century, of plays which clearly enough bear the 
 marks of contact with Latin comedy. Frequently the effect of 
 this contact was very slight, as in the case of a number of plays 
 which do not fall under the heading of any previous chapter and 
 which we may briefly refer to here, before considering the plays 
 of Lyly. 
 
 Appius and Virginia, which was printed in 1575, though 
 probably acted as early as 1563, and which is more of a Moral- 
 ity than a historical play, contains distinct suggestions of the 
 ancient comedy. Compare, for example, the slave's anticipa- 
 tion of a beating^ with any one of the numerous similar reflec- 
 tions of the slaves of Plautus. The Marriage of Wit and Science 
 (licensed 1569-70), the five acts of which are regularly divided 
 into scenes, contains a suggestion of the motif of the Amphi- 
 truOy viz., one of the characters being in doubt as to his own 
 identity.^ The Tancred and Gismunda of Robert Wilmot, 
 which was produced in 1568, and which was revived in an 
 altered form and printed in 1591, contains a reference to the 
 
 » HazUtt's Dodsley, Vol. IV., pp. 121-123. 
 9 Ibid., Vol. II, p. 379. 
 
 72 
 
SHAKSPERE'S PREDECESSORS 73 
 
 story of the Ampldtruo, not necessarily, of course, but probably 
 ■derived from Plautus : 
 
 To me the king of gods and men doth yield 
 As witness can 
 
 The doubled night, the sun's restrained course, 
 His secret stealths, the slander to eschew, 
 In shape transform'd, we list not to discourse. 
 All that and more we forced him to do.^ 
 
 In the Camhises of Thomas Preston, entered on the Stationers' 
 Eegister in 1569-70, we have the figure of the'* miles gloriosus** 
 presented in Ruff, Huff, and Snuff, who, however, are not neces- 
 sarily of the family of Pyrgopolinices or Thraso. A meretrix 
 scene presents also another stock character of Latin comedy.* 
 The Rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune (1581) contains at least 
 one stock situation of Plautus — a cudgeling scene,^ and one 
 stock character, — Penulo, the parasite, who in his faithfulness 
 to his master and his duplicity toward all others resembles the 
 faithful slave so commonly met with in the works of the 
 Eoman playwrights. 
 
 The only author of the period whose works show the influ- 
 ence of the Latin comedy to any marked degree is John Lyly. 
 Like Greene he could write himself utriusque academiae in 
 artibus magister, and his dramas abound in classical allusion 
 and quotation. Many of the figures of classic myth appear as 
 characters in his works. Though his knowledge of the ancient 
 authors was not very extensive Mr. Ward has pointed out that 
 *'he was in various ways and degrees indebted in style and in 
 manner to Ovid, Virgil, and Homer, and to Caesar, Cicero, and 
 Seneca."* There can be little doubt that the easy colloquial 
 prose style which constitutes his chief contribution to the 
 development of comic drama owes something to his familiarity 
 with the best examples of Latin colloquial prose, viz., the 
 comedies of Plautus and Terence. Several of his plays con- 
 tain mere allusions to some character "or situation of Latin 
 €omedy. Sir Tophas, the "miles gloriosus" of E^idimion^^ has 
 been regarded as a lineal descendant of Pyrgopolinices,' and it 
 
 » Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. VII, pp. 28-29, Act J. Sc. j. 
 
 « Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. IV, p. 181 seq. 
 
 9 lUd., Vol. VI, pp. 181-82. 
 
 4 Op. cit.. Vol. I, p. 2!7. 
 
 6 The Dramatic Works of John Lilly, ed. Fairholt, 1858, Vol. I. 
 
 • C5X., e.g., Ward's Eng. Dram. Lit., Vol. I, p. 284. 
 
74 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 is more than probable that Lyly had the hero of Plantus's play- 
 in mind. Sir Tophas's falling in love with the ugly Dipsas 
 may have been suggested by the last ridiculous situation in 
 which Pyrgopolinices is placed. But it is well to remember 
 that the tendency to find Plautus imitation wherever the brag- 
 gart soldier is portrayed is a very misleading one. In the 
 present case it is at least certain that TJier sites furnished the 
 prototype of Sir Tophas to a much greater degree than did the 
 Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, and we have already concluded 
 that the hero of the English farce bears no relation to that of 
 the Latin play. The purely farcical portraiture of Sir Tophas, 
 together with the fact that he must be active to a considerable 
 extent in displaying to us his character, since he has no con- 
 venient parasite on whom to depend, differentiates him at once 
 from the hero of Latin comedy. When he assures us : "Com- 
 monly my words wound," and when he refers to "the ugly 
 beast, the blackbird," "the terrible trout," and announces 
 himself as about to combat with "the monster Ovis" — a black 
 sheep — we are at once reminded of Thersites and his encoun- 
 ter with a snail. The idea of making the hero ridiculous in 
 love is probably drawn from Plautus, but surely little more 
 than the idea. Sir Tophas is at first adamant, his valor leaving- 
 no place for love ; Pyrgopolinices is amorous from the beginning, 
 and proud of his easy conquest of all feminine hearts. When 
 Sir Tophas does fall in love it is with the ugly Dipsas, and he 
 argues that old women, like old wine, are best; Pyrgopolinices' 
 discomfiture is the result of deception, which has been practised 
 upon him, and he is called upon to play no such purely farcical 
 r61e as that in which Sir Tophas reveals himself. In Endimion 
 the scenes relating to Sir Tophas are almost entirely uncon- 
 nected with the general plot except at the close, and even then 
 only in the most artificial way. In Act V, Sc. ii, the enumera- 
 tion of dishes at the banquet recalls similar lists in Plautus, 
 and the same act contains one quotation from the Miles 
 Gloriosus^ — viz., lepidum caput! The last line of Act III, 
 Sc. iii, viz., I prae sequar, is the last line of the Andria, Act I,. 
 Sc. i. 
 
 In Campaspe we have a suggestion of one of the stock char~ 
 acters of Latin comedy in the figure of Lais, the courtesan, 
 
 » Miles Gloriosus, in,'i, 131. Professor Baker is wrong in assigning this quo- 
 tation to tlie MoBtellaria. V. his edition of Endymion, p. 89. 
 
SHAKSPERE'S PREDECESSORS 75 
 
 who, however, does little but rail against war, which deprives 
 men of the pleasures of peace. She also directs a few words of 
 scorn to Diogenes. The play contains two references to the 
 story of the Amphitruo, The first is in the prologue, and con- 
 sists of a single line — "There went two nights to the begetting 
 of Hercules.'* In Act III, Sc. i, Apelles, the painter, is show- 
 ing Campaspe his pictures : 
 
 Apel.— This is Alcmena, unto whom Jupiter came in shape of Amphit- 
 
 rion, her husband, and begate Hercules. 
 Camp. — A famous sonne, but an infamous fact. 
 Apel. — He might doe it, because he was a God. 
 Camp.— Nay, therefore it was evill done, because he was a*God. 
 
 Quite frequently in Lyly's plays the ready wit or resourceful 
 cleverness of some character recalls vaguely a similar character 
 of Latin comedy. In the words of Professor Baker: ''His 
 pages and nimble-witted youngsters are very clever, and stand 
 between the audacious and mendacious slaves and boys of 
 Plautus and Terence, and the wags and wits of Shakespeare."^ 
 But in Mother Bombie, printed in 1594, we have a comedy — 
 almost certainly one of the author's latest plays — in which the 
 typical situations of Latin comedy have been brought together 
 in such a manner that it would not be difficult to imagine the 
 play as a transcript of some lost comedy of Plautus. The plot, 
 as related by two of the characters — Riscio and Dromio — in 
 Act V, Sc. iii, and amplified by Professor Ward,* I give here : 
 *' ^Mempliio had a foole to his sonne, which StelUo knew 
 not ; StelUo a foole to his daughter, unknowne to MempJiio; to 
 coosen each other they dealt with their boies [i.e., servants] for 
 a match [in other words, they tried with the help of their 
 servants, each to palm off his foolish child upon the supposed 
 sensible child of the other] ; wee [the servants] met with Lucio 
 and HaJfepenie [two other serving-men] who told the love 
 betweene their master's children [Accius and Silena], the 
 youth deeply in love, the fathers unwitting to consent . . . 
 then wee foure met, which argued wee were no mountaines; 
 and in a taverne wee met, which argued wee were mortall ; and 
 everie one in his wine told his dayes worke, which was a signe 
 wee forgot not our businesse; and seeing all our masters 
 troubled with devises, we determined a little to trouble the 
 
 » Lyly'8 Endymion, ed. Baker, p. clxxxvi (Henry Holt & Co., 1894). 
 « Sng. Dram. Lit., Vol. I, p. 300. 
 
76 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 water before they drunke ; so that in the attire of your chil- 
 dren, our masters' wise children bewrayed their good nature 
 [i.e., proved themselves the fools they were]; and in the gar- 
 ments of our masters' children yours made a marriage; this all 
 stood upon us poore children, and your young children, ta 
 shew that old folkes may be overtaken by children.' 
 
 *'To which it has only to be added that the two foolish chil- 
 dren, Accius and Silena, in the end turn out to be brother and 
 sister, changelings foisted upon Memphio and Stellio by Vicina, 
 who has brought up their actual children, Maestius and Serena, 
 as her own, and as brother and sister, and has thus impeded 
 the solution which satisfies the actual state of the case."^ 
 
 The correspondence with stock situations of Roman comedy 
 is sufficiently evident. Memphio will send his wife to his 
 country-house in order that she may not disarrange his plans. 
 Compare this with the Mercator^ Act IV, Sc. iii, where Dorippa 
 suddenly returning from the country overturns the arrange- 
 ments of Lysimachus, her husband. The love affairs of the 
 son are furthered by the clever servant contrary to the wishes 
 of the father, who is deceived throughout.^ The marriage of 
 the foolish son and daughter — each to a supposedly sane per- 
 son — is made possible, and the fathers are to be completely hood- 
 winked, by the simple expedient of changing clothes.^ The 
 motif of the long-lost children found at last, and in love, so 
 that they are happy ever afterwards is a common one in 
 Plautus.* In Mother BomMe, as very generally in Latin 
 comedy, the distinguishing mark by which both the children 
 are recognized, is a mole. The regular reward of the clever 
 intriguing servant who has carried through his master's 
 schemes to a successful issue, viz., that he be given his liberty, 
 or at least some great favor,^ is likewise granted in Lyly's play. 
 The idea of a proposed marriage being frustrated by the dis- 
 covery that the contracting parties are in reality brother and 
 sister finds a parallel in the situation presented in the Epidicus. 
 In a word, almost every important situation of the whole play, 
 except those which deal with the old woman who gives the 
 comedy its name, may be paralleled in the work of Plautus. 
 
 » Ward, Hist. Eng. Dram. Lit., Vol. I, p. 300. 
 
 ' Cf. the similar situations in Mercator, Epidicus, etc. 
 
 8 Cf. the similar situations in Eunuchus, Casina, Captivi, etc. 
 
 * Cf. the similar situations in Poenulus and Rudens. 
 
 * Cf. the similar situations in Fseudolus, Epidicus, Stichus, etc. 
 
SHAKSPERE'S PREDECESSORS 77 
 
 It has been already stated that Latin comedy exercised but 
 little influence on the English drama of the period between 
 1580 and 1590. It was not by any means because Plautus and 
 Terence had fallen into oblivion ; occasional suggestions in the 
 plays themselves and frequent references to the Latin play- 
 writers or some of their characters in the non-dramatic works 
 of the period abundantly testify to the familiarity of the 
 authors with this branch of classical literature. In the intro- 
 duction to his edition of the Endymion Professor Baker says ; 
 ** Moreover if the intentionally amusing scenes of Lyly are com- 
 pared with those in other plays from 1580 to 1590 it will at 
 once appear that in most of the plays of other writers, the 
 comedy, where it is not a somewhat clumsy copy of scenes in 
 Plautus or Terence, is coarseness or horse-play."^ Of coarse- 
 ness and horse-play there is indeed plenty, but it is almost 
 impossible to point out scenes in any play written drying the 
 decade — except those of Lyly — which may be called even 
 clumsy copies of Plautus or Terence. The explanation is to be 
 found in the surprising strength which was suddenly attained 
 by the new Romantic drama. Lyly's works smacked very 
 slightly of Latin comedy till near the close of his career as a 
 writer of plays, and we shall have occasion to note how 
 Mother Bornbie takes its place as an early example of the 
 reactionary movement which began with the first years of the 
 last decade of the century, and which, under the protection of 
 its great high priest, Ben Jonson, was to go on side by side 
 with the dominant Romantic drama, and to produce some of 
 the minor classics of English literature. 
 
 At no previous period had the interest in the works of 
 Greece and Rome been greater than in the decade we are con- 
 sidering. The works of writers in every department of litera- 
 ture abound in references to the writings or myths of the 
 ancient world, and translators of the classics^ were placed quite 
 on a level with the authors of original works. Nor in this 
 universal enthusiasm for classical literature was the drama of 
 Rome forgotten. In 1575 and 1581 new and enlarged editions 
 of UdalPs selections from Terence were issued by John Higgins. 
 In 1581 a complete edition of all the previously translated 
 
 * Lyly's Endymion, ed. Baker, p. clxxxv. 
 
 « For list of translations made at this period v. Warton, op.cit., Vol. IV, p.. 
 281 seq. 
 
78 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 single plays of Seneca was printed under the title : Seneca his 
 tenne Tragedies translated into Englysh. Mercurii Nutrices 
 horae. 1581. The interest bestowed on many of these works 
 is attested by the fierceness of the denunciations showered on 
 them by their opponents. Prynne tells us that the Puritan 
 leaders of Elizabeth's reign forbade all Christians 'Ho pen, to 
 print, to sell, to read, or schoole-masters and others to teach, 
 any amorous wanton Play-bookes, Histories, or Heathen 
 authors, especially Ovids wanton Epistles and Bookes of Love, 
 Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, Martial, the comedies of Plau- 
 tus, Terence and other such amorous bookes . . ."^ Stephen 
 Gosson, in his School of Abuse, rails against Latin comedy in 
 general, and has a contemptuous reference to *'some Arch- 
 player or other that hath read a little or stumbled by chance 
 upon Plautus comedies." On the next page is a reference to 
 the Curculio.^ Gabriel Harvey calls attention to the Latin 
 play writers occasionally. Compare, e.g., the letter to Imme- 
 rito, written in 1580, in which "for conceyt of Witte and 
 eloquent decyphering of matters" he selects Plautus and 
 Terence as representative in Latin literature. Compare, too, 
 his reference to "the comedie of Adelphi or the two Asses: a 
 more notable Pageant, than the Interlude of the two Sosias, or 
 the two Amphitryos, or the two Menechmi, or the two Martin 
 Guerras."^ All the writers on the art of poetry cite examples 
 from Latin comedy. Sidney, perhaps the warmest admirer of 
 the classics in his own day, and the most ardent advocate of 
 the adoption of classical standards in the drama, in his 
 Apologie for Poetry refers to the authorship of the Heauton- 
 timorumenos,*' to Thraso,* to the question of the observation 
 of the unity of time in Plautus and Terence,* and to the 
 mingling of tragedy and comedy in the AmphitruoJ A great 
 part of the first book of Puttenham's Arte of English Foesie 
 (1 584-88) is devoted to an examination of the ancient drama, its 
 characteristics, and the manner of putting plays on the stage 
 in ancient days. In Webbe's Discourse of English Poetrie 
 
 » mstriomastix, 1633, pp. 913, 916 (quoted by Warton, v. iv, p. 232). 
 
 * TJu School of Abuse, Arber's Reprint, pp. 30 and 81. 
 
 » The Works of Gabriel Harvey, ed. Grosart. Pierce's Supererogation, Vol. II, 
 p. 250. 
 
 * Apologie for Poetry, Arber's Reprint, p. 59. 
 « V. p. 67. 
 
 * V. p. 64. 
 7 V. p. 65. 
 
SHAKSPERE'S PREDECESSORS ro 
 
 (1586) there is a reference to Plautus and Terence, who "have 
 beene ever since theyr time most famous, and to these dayes 
 are esteemed as greate helpes and furtheraunces to the obtayn- 
 ing of good Letters.'*^ After a particularly warm commenda- 
 tion of Phaer, Twyne, Golding, Googe, Flemming and other 
 translators of the classics, Webbe answers the objections which 
 have been urged against Plautus and Terence on account of their 
 immorality.* His chief argument is the quoting of Sir Thomas 
 Elyott's translation of ''Plautus in commendations of virtue" 
 in the AmpMtruo, Terence in Bunuchus, etc. 
 
 In both the dramatic and non-dramatic works of the 
 playwrights similar references are occasionally found, but only 
 in the writings of Greene are they numerous. In the Orlando 
 Furioso he speaks of Hercules as Alcme-na's child, and in 
 Alphonsus, Kiiig of Ar agon we find the passage 
 
 Nor do I come'as Jupiter did erst 
 Unto the palace of Amphitryon 
 For any fond or foul concupiscence 
 Which I do bear to Alcumena's love.' 
 
 although, of course, neither of these passages necessarily 
 derive from Plautus 's comedy. In The Garde of Fancie a char- 
 acter from one of Terence's plays is cited for the purpose of 
 developing a rather elaborate simile,* and a similar figure in 
 the same work is to the effect that "like Menechmus Subreptus 
 his wife thou doest not begin to love, ere again thou seekest to 
 hate.'"^ In Tlie Royal Exchange, printed in 1590, we have a 
 reference to "Parrasites such as Terence and Plautus discovers 
 in their Comedies, hange theyr freendshippe at the Tables 
 ende, and theyr loyaltie at the Caters basket."* In 
 Francesco'' s Fortunes or TJie Second Part of Greenes Never too 
 late a detailed account is given of the characters of Grecian 
 comedy, together with its purpose. The drama of Plautus and 
 Terence is similarly treated, and also the vogue and decline of 
 comedy in Rome.'^ A Quippe for an Upstart Courtier has the 
 simile: "But as these upstart changelings went strouting like 
 
 » The Arte of English Poesie, ed. Haslewood, pp. 29, 30. 
 
 • Op. cit., p. 43. 
 
 • The Complete Works of Robert Greene, ed. Grosart, Vol. XIII, p. 234. 
 « V. Vol. IV, p. 17. 
 
 » V. Vol. IV, p. 61. 
 
 • V. Vol. VII, p. 243. 
 
 T V. Vol. vm, p. 129 seq. 
 
80 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Phjlopolimarchides the bragart in Plautus . . ."^ These 
 examples will serve to show how familiarly Greene knew Latin 
 comedy, and they only make greater the wonder when we 
 consider how free his dramatic work is from any real effect of 
 the influence thus brought to bear upon him. His writings are 
 much more voluminous than are those of the other "university 
 wits," but even when allowance is made for this, his references 
 to Plautus and Terence are much more frequent than in the 
 case of any of his contemporaries. In Peele's works the only 
 influence of this kind I have noticed is in The Old Wives Tale, 
 published in 1595, where we have reference made to **the most 
 famous stock of Huanebango — Polimackeroeplacidus my grand- 
 father, my father Pergopolineo, my mother Dionora de 
 Sardinia famously descended. ' ' 
 
 Do you hear, sir? had not you a cousin that was called Guste- 
 ceridis? 
 
 Indeed I had a cousin that sometime followed the court infortu- 
 nately, and his name Bustegusteceridis.^ 
 
 Dyce pointed out that **Here Peele seems to have had an eye 
 to the hard names in the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus." 
 Similarly formed words are also to be found in the Captivi, 
 Act II, Sc. ii, and Pseudolus, Act IV, Sc. ii, and the origin of 
 the words manufactured by Peele is pretty certainly to be 
 found in some of these formations of Plautus. In Marlowe's 
 Jew of Malta we have a line quoted (not quite accurately) from 
 the Andria,^ and in his translation of Ovid's Elegies occur the 
 lines : 
 
 Rude Ennius, and Plautus full of Wit, 
 Are both in Fame's eternal legend writ.* 
 
 Apart from these references there is little evidence in any of 
 Marlowe's works that he had even read Roman comedy. The 
 rare instances in which other playwrights of this period refer 
 to Plautus or Terence or their dramas, are almost all in works 
 produced toward the close of the century, and will be noticed 
 in the next chapter. 
 
 1 V. Vol. XI, pp. 215, 216. 
 
 * The Works of Peele, ed. BuUen, Vol. I, p. 316. 
 
 * The Works of Marlowe, ed. Bullen, Vol. II, p. 18, Ego ndhimet sum temper pro- 
 admus. Cf. Andria, IV, i, 12, Proximus sum egomet mihi. 
 
 * Op.cU., Vol. ni; Elegia, xv, p. 137, U. 19, 20. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTUEY 
 
 The chief sin of omission committed by the early authors of 
 Romantic drama consisted in their comparative indifference to 
 questions of plot and structure ; their sins of commission con- 
 stituted a much longer category. Their excellences at best 
 were excellences of detail, and in their delight over these 
 attainments they neglected the weightier matters of dramatic 
 law. In almost every one of the fin de siecle playwrights 
 there is to be seen a straining after novel and unnatural effects ; 
 to men like Sidney and Ben Jonson Romanticism in its initial 
 stages was practically synonymous with unreal vagaries and 
 irresponsible, inartistic crudeness of representation. The roles 
 played by actors like Tarlton and Kemp and the popularity 
 and reputation acquired by their impromptu witticisms, 
 together with the frequent directions for improvisation, in. 
 which the dramas of the period abound, tell no uncertain tale 
 as to the indifference of authors to their works from the stand- 
 point of literature as a fine art. No single one of the unities was 
 treated with even courteous consideration. That in the ideal 
 play, or act, or scene, every detail should contribute to the 
 realization of the central artistic purpose was an idea which 
 seems never to have occurred to them. Their interest was in 
 other things. The Elizabethan age was one of intense curiosity 
 regarding the world and all its wonders, but it was primarily a 
 curiosity regarding fact and incident rather than the more 
 general philosophic interest which concerns itself with the 
 world-old problems of existence or the multitudinous variety of 
 human nature. Accordingly we have presented horrible mur- 
 ders, bloody battles, ghosts, daggers, poison ; or again, strange 
 accounts of the natural wonders of foreign lands, — as in Lyly's 
 "unnatural natural history," — accounts of incredible feats of 
 gallantry or chivalry, and impossible escapades of all sorts. 
 For the ordinary scale according to which every-day affairs are 
 measured, is substituted one characterized by largeness or 
 idealized beauty; a fairyland atmosphere has enveloped inci- 
 
 81 
 
82 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 dents and dramatis personae alike. Hence we may not look 
 here for accuracy or conviction in the delineation of character. 
 This is more true, to be sure, of some individual authors and 
 plays than of others, but with this spirit in a more or less 
 diluted form the whole drama of the period was informed. In 
 a word, the Romantic drama is dramatic in its incident, not 
 in its characters. From contemporary life the playwright 
 seems separated by an unbridgeable gulf, except when he 
 becomes an active religious or political partisan and degrades 
 his art to the service of special pleading. Inadequate, often 
 Tv^holly primitive stage apparatus with its '^creaking throne," 
 ** nimble squib," "rolled bullet," and '* tempestuous drum," 
 did not contribute to the relieving of the sense of unreal- 
 ity. Poetic passages of exquisite beauty stand on the 
 same page with the purest rant, and in tragedy examples 
 of bathos are usually not far to seek. The comedies of 
 the period, especially, showed on the whole much crude- 
 ness and coarseness, great lack of restraint and of propor- 
 tion. Professor Herford thus sums up the kind of humor 
 at which they had arrived: ** There was the rough native 
 humour of the professional clown, with his variant, the 
 Vice of the Moralities, the humour of practical jokes and 
 horseplay. There was the more refined humour of the profes- 
 sional jester, becoming normal in the persistently pointed 
 dialogue of Lyly. There was the humour of accident, confu- 
 sions of identity; through disguise or natural likeness — the 
 offspring chiefly of Italian novels. . . . There was lastly the 
 humour of mere absurdity and ignorance, that of the clown 
 by nature, not by profession."^ The characters of comedy 
 were so many pegs upon which to hang sallies of mirth or 
 coarse jests. That anyone should speak in character was a 
 minor consideration, and accordingly a single play is frequently 
 a gallimaufiy of farce, improvisation, and brilliantly clever 
 dialogue. In short, a crude, untutored interest in wonders, 
 surprises, and impromptu sallies of fun had completely 
 taken the place of a more cultivated appreciation of dramatic 
 art. 
 
 Public taste would have been in an unhealthy state 
 indeed had a reaction not set in, and that before any great 
 
 * General Introduction to the Mermaid edition of best plays of Ben Jonson, 
 Vol. I, xv-xvi. 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 83 
 
 lapse of time. The primitive character of the most highly 
 esteemed merits of the majority of contemporary comedies, as 
 well as their consistent ignoring of the conditions of contem- 
 porary life and the primary principles of art, must have been a 
 source of constant irritation to those who believed that the 
 drama should be an artistic creation and that it should not be 
 absolutely divorced — in spirit as well as in subject-matter — from 
 the experiences and interests of the audience before which it 
 was presented. The greater part of the last decade of the 
 century may be looked at as a preparation for the later pro- 
 nounced and self-conscious revolt against the law-ignoring, 
 inartistic, undramatic representations then in vogue, and it is 
 in that light that we shall study it here. 
 
 Once granted the necessity of the reaction there could be 
 but little question as to the manner in which it must work 
 itself out. All modern literary movements which have been 
 instituted in conscious opposition to prevailing tendencies 
 toward heaping up promiscuous beauties to the neglect of 
 an organizing and heightening their potency by allying it 
 to beauty of form, have instinctively turned for guidance 
 and teaching to the finished products of classical art. These 
 have remained through the centuries a standard of excellence 
 — limited perhaps in its conception, but perfect after its kind — 
 a standard to test the formal legitimacy of literary art, and to 
 recall wanderers from straying too far in the by-paths of unre- 
 lated beauty. In the movement we are now considering the* 
 natural reversion was to the works of the Latin comedy -writers, 
 and in no previous period of English literary history had the 
 comedies of Plautus and Terence received so great attention. 
 I have called the first part of the decade a preparation for tho 
 revolt announced in Ben Jonson's first two great comedies, and 
 the order of development of this movement toward confessed 
 imitation of Latin dramatic models may be traced with a fair 
 degree of definiteness. In the first place we find great 
 activity of translation going on side by side with frequent 
 adaptations of Latin comedy or some of its characteristics or 
 motifs. These adaptations were not at all in the spirit of 
 criticism of Romantic comedy ; they often partook more of the 
 nature of the new than of the ancient models. But with the 
 representation of Every Man in His Humour in 1596 and its 
 publication in 1598 the overt reaction had begun, and its 
 
84 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 precise nature had been loudly heralded. We shall consider 
 briefly these different phases of the movement. 
 
 No comedy of Plautus had as yet attained to the honor of 
 an English translation ; the first extant English version of any 
 of his plays is to be found in the Menaechmi of W. W., 
 printed in quarto in 1595. That this translator, as Warton 
 asserts, was William Warner, the author of Albion's Eng- 
 land — and in this Warton has been quite generally followed 
 by later writers — I have found no reason to believe any 
 more than that he was identical with the W. W. who trans- 
 lated Bandello's Novelli, or William Webbe, who translated 
 the Georgics and some of the Bucolics, The Menaechmi is 
 the only extant translation of a comedy of Plautus during 
 the sixteenth century, though we know that others certainly 
 were translated. Preceding W. W. 's version of the Menaechmi 
 is a note of *'the Printer to the Headers" to the effect 
 that "the writer hereof (loving Readers) having diverse of this 
 Poettes Comedies Englished, for the use and delight of his 
 private friends, who in Plautus owne words are not able to 
 understand them : I have prevailed so far with him as to let 
 this one go farther abroad, for a publike recreation and delight 
 to all those, that affect the diverse sorts of bookes compiled in 
 this kind, whereof (in my judgment) in harmelesse mirth and 
 quicknesse of fine conceit, the most of them come far short 
 of this."^ There can be no reasonable doubt, then, that the 
 translator of the Menaechmi also translated others of Plautus 's 
 comedies,^ though there is no record of any others having been 
 printed. Warton tells us that *' Tanner says he [W. W.] trans- 
 lated but not printed all Plautus. — MS8. Tann. Oxon.''''^ In 
 the same note Warton speaks of the translations of Terence : 
 *'Rastall printed Terens in English, that is, the Andria. There 
 is also Andria, the first Comedy e of Terence, by Maurice Kyffin, 
 1588. . . . The Eunuchus was entered at Stationers' Hall to 
 W. [Leake] in 1597, and the Andria and Eumichus, in 1600. — 
 Registr. C,fol.20,a.'*'' To this list it might be added that 
 portions of Terence which Udall had edited and translated 
 in 1533, "doubtless for the benefit of the scholars at Eton,"* 
 
 » Shake8peare'8 Library, Hazlitt, Vol. V, p. 3. 
 
 8 The question as to whether The Birthe of Hercules may not jxjssibly have been 
 one of these will be discussed in another connection. 
 » Op. cit., Vol. IV, p. 323, note. 
 * Hazlitt, Schools, School-books and School-masters, p. 91. 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 85 
 
 were reprinted with additions by Higgins in 1575 and 1581. 
 It is thus evident that there was no lack of activity in the way of 
 translating the Latin comedy. 
 
 The relation of the translation of the Menaechmi to its origi- 
 nal is very simple, and is aptly enough described in the printer's 
 word of introduction as "neither so exactly written as it may 
 carry any name of a Translation, nor such libertie therein used, 
 as that he would notoriously varie from the Poets owne order." 
 The translator varies neither notoriously nor otherwise from the 
 order of Plautus's play, the latter being followed exactly and 
 scene by scene. But scarcely a single passage of any length is a 
 literal translation. The essence of each Latin scene is preserved 
 in a much curtailed form, the translation being of the freest kind. 
 On the other hand the variations from the substance of the origi- 
 nal text are few, slight, and unimportant, and the printer's 
 asterisk — the meaning of which is that *' where you finde this 
 marke, the Poets conceit is somewhat altred, by occasion either 
 of the time, the country, or the phrase" — is called into 
 requisition but seldom. The nature of the liberties thus taken 
 with the original may be seen in the passage in which for the 
 list of Koman dishes we have substituted *'some oysters, a 
 mary-bone pie or two, some artichockes, and potato rootes." 
 
 In Nashe^s Lenten Stuff e (1599) we have the following 
 passage^: **Plautus in his Rudens bringeth in fishermen 
 cowthring and quaking dung wet after a storme, and com- 
 plaining their miserable case in this forme, Captamus cihum e 
 mari, si eventus non venit, neque quicquam captum est piscium, 
 
 » The Complete Works of Thomas JVashe, ed. Grosart (Huth Library) Vol. V, p. 
 305. Nashe seems to have known Plautus particularly well. In his address "to 
 the gentlemen students of both universities," one of his earliest works, he had ridi- 
 culed the " Thrasonical huff-snuff" style, and he tells us in his Lenten Stuff e that in 
 style he had endeavored to be Italianate, and "of all styles I most affect and strive 
 to imitate Aretine's. " His references to Latin comedy are numerous. In The Unfor- 
 tunate Traveller {Jack Wilton) [ed. Gosse, pp. 83-86], published in 1594, there is a 
 ridiculous account of the manner in which the students at Wittenberg played the 
 Acolastus. This was followed by disputations, and here was present "that abun- 
 dant scholler Cornelius Agrippa,"— " the greatest conjurer in Christendome." The 
 doctors wished to see him "doe something extraordinarie memorable," and "one 
 requested to see pleasant Plautus, and that he would shew them in what habite he 
 went, and with what countenaunce he lookt, when he ground come in the mill." In 
 Four Letters Confuted he tells us that "Plautus personated no parasite ^but he 
 made him a slave or a bondman" (Vol. II, p. 216) ; in the same work occurs 
 the passage: "Thou hast arrogated to thy selfe more than Lucifer, or any Miles 
 Gloriosus in the worlde would doe, " (p. 273). In Have with you to Saffron Walden 
 he speaks of ''scelerata sinapis shrewish, snappish mustard as Plautus calls it," 
 (Vol. Ill, p. 43). Mere references to both Plautus and Terence are very common iu 
 his work. 
 
86 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 salsi lauiiq, domum redimus clanculum dormimus incaenatum: 
 All the meate that we eate we catch out of the sea, and if 
 there we misse, wel washed and salted, wee sneake home to 
 bed supperlesse : and upon the taile of it hee brings in a para- 
 site that flowteth and bowrdeth them thus : Heus vos familica 
 gens hominum ut vivitis ut peritis? hough, you hunger starved 
 gubbins or offalles of men, how thrive you, howe perish you ; 
 and they cringing in their neckes, like rattes smoothered in the 
 holde, poorely replicated, Vivimus fame speq.j sitiq.^ with 
 hunger, and hope, and thirst wee content ourselves. " But as 
 has been already said no other extensive translation of Plautus 
 has come down to us from this period. 
 
 "We shall now consider certain plays which are either 
 adaptations of the comedies of Plautus, or which, if independ- 
 ent in plot, go back to the same source in some important 
 details of characterization or motiving. The first of these we 
 have already taken up, — Lyly's Mother Bombie, and it need not 
 detain us longer in this connection. We shall pass on, then, 
 to The Comedy of Errors, the only play of |^Shakspere in 
 which he has drawn to any considerable extent upon a comedy 
 of Plautus.^ The immediate source of Shakspere's play has 
 never been conclusively determined. Collier's conjecture was 
 that the old play. The History of Error, which was acted 
 January 1, 1577, had also been an adaptation of Plautus's 
 Menaechmiy and had furnished to Shakspere the ground work 
 of his plot. Another theory is that the translation by "W. W., 
 which was not printed till 1595 (TJie Comedy of Errors was 
 probably written about 1591) had been seen by Shakspere in 
 manuscript. A third possibility is that Shakspere read Plautus 
 
 » Shakspere's indebtedness in this particular has not always been so narrowly 
 limited, and indeed certain slight borrowings are not far to seek. The names of 
 the servants Grumio and Tranio in Tfie Taming of the Shrew were in all probabil- 
 ity derived from the Mostellaria; and the exact corresjwndence between the Hamlet 
 line ''Assume a virtue if you have it not," and Amphitryon's speech to Alcmena, 
 Saltern tute si pudoris egeas sumas mutuum, is certainly striking. That the picture of 
 Falstaff in the Merry Wives owes anything to that of Pyrgopollnlces there is little 
 reason to believe, and if we accept the popular story of the hurried composition of 
 the English play, the improbability increases, and we are reminded once more that 
 there are other portrayals of the "miles gloriosus" than the type depicted by Plautus. 
 For a rather questionable list of examples of Shakspere'siindebtedness to Plautus, 
 which Includes comparisons between Shylock and Euclio in the Aulularia, Prospero 
 and Daemones in the Budens, Pericles and Daemones, and TJie Taming of the Shrew 
 and the Trinummus, v. Plautus and his Imitators, Quarterly Review, 1891, Vol. 11— a 
 review of Reinhardstoettner's work on Plautus. V. also Reinhardstoettner's 
 work 2?a««tm in the division assigned to English literature in his consideration of 
 each of the plays of Plautus. 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 87 
 
 at first hand, but this would seem the least plausible way of 
 accounting for the facts, since we have direct evidence of his 
 ** small Latin" and no direct evidence tending greatly to 
 modify the meaning of Jonson's phrase. Shakspere's play is thus 
 noted in the Gesta Grayorum^ under date a.d. 1594: "After 
 such sports a Comedy of Errors (like to Plautus his Me- 
 naechmus) was played by the players. So that night was begun 
 and continued to the end in nothing but confusion and errors ; 
 whereupon, it was ever afterward called *The Night of 
 Errors.'"^ 
 
 The connection between the English play and the Me- 
 naechmij as well as the extent to which Shakspere bor- 
 rowed from Plautus, will become clearer from a brief synopsis 
 of the plot in each case. That of the Menaechmi is as 
 follows: The wife of a Syracusan merchant gave birth to 
 twin sons, so similar in appearance that their own mother 
 could not distinguish the one from the other. When they 
 were seven years old their father took one of them, Menaechmus 
 by name, on a voyage to Tarentum. Here the child was 
 stolen and carried off to Epidamnus, in which city he eventu- 
 ally married a wealthy wife, who proved to be **a shrew but 
 honest." The father's grief for the loss of his child was so 
 great that he died, and their grandfather changed the name of 
 Sosicles, the remaining twin, to Menaechmus— the name borne 
 by the child which had been stolen. Menaechmus Sosicles, 
 having grown to manhood, sets out to search for his brother, 
 and with his servant, Messenio, finally arrives at Epidamnus in 
 the sixth year of his search. Immediately the complications 
 begin. Menaechmus of Epidamnus finds the society of Erotium, 
 a courtesan, more congenial than that of his wife, and is in the 
 habit of presenting the clothes and jewels of the latter to his 
 mistress. A dinner prepared for him at the house of Erotium 
 is eaten ^by his brother, and many ludicrous incidents take 
 place, in which the chief supplementary characters are 
 Cylindrus, a cook; Peniculus, a parasite; Erotium; a doctor; 
 and the wife and the father-in-law of Menaechmus of Epidamnus. 
 The latter is at length adjudged insane by the doctor and the 
 father-in-law, and is carried off by their orders, only to be 
 rescued by Messenio, who thinks to aid his master. Finally, the 
 clever servant divines the explanation of all the difficulties, and 
 
 » Nichols, Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, Vol. II. Gesta Grayorum, p. 16. 
 
88 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 manages to restore concord once more. For his services he is given 
 his liberty, and Menaechmus of Epidamnus resolves to sell his 
 possessions and to accompany his brother to their native city. 
 J7ie Comedy of Errors takes over the general situation of 
 long-separated twin brothers meeting under such peculiar cir- 
 cumstances, retains the figures ^of the wife and the courtesan, but 
 introduces the father and mother of the twins, as well as some 
 merchants, a goldsmith, the wife's sister, and, most important 
 of all, a pair of twin slaves. An outline of the plot is as 
 follows : Aegeon, a merchant of Syracuse, having been taken 
 prisoner in Ephesus, is brought before the Duke and condenmed 
 to death. He is granted a respite, however, on telling his 
 story. His wife had given birth to twin boys exactly alike, at 
 the same hour that another pair of twin boys had been born of 
 a bondwoman. Aegeon bought the latter pair to serve his 
 sons, but somewhat later a shipwreck separated him, one of his 
 sons, and one of the slaves from his wife, the other son, and the 
 other slave. The sons' names are Antipholus, and one of them 
 is now of Syracuse, the other of Ephesus — the scene of the 
 play ; the slaves are called Dromio. Antipholus of Syracuse 
 and his servant Dromio come to Ephesus, and from this point 
 on, the play deals with the many possibilities of confusion 
 resulting from the inevitable mistaking of one brother for 
 another. One scene (Act III, Sc. i), in which Antipholus of 
 Ephesus and his servant Dromio are flouted and refused 
 entrance to their own house by the other Dromio, whose 
 master is enjoying himself within, is precisely the situation 
 presented in the Amphitruo, with the exception that here 
 everyone is deceived, while in the Latin play the gods are of 
 course omniscient. The twin slaves occasion many more per- 
 plexities than we have in the Menaechmi. Dromio of Syracuse 
 encounters the sweetheart of his brother, and so gets into diflSi- 
 culties exactly similar to those of his master. The scenes with 
 the courtesan in the Menaechmi are much curtailed, the para- 
 site, cook, father-in-law, doctor, and courtesan's maid are 
 entirely omitted, and the wife is portrayed as being much less 
 shrewish. One interesting change of incident is her bringing 
 a conjurer to exorcise the evil spirit which she believes has 
 taken possession of her husband. At the close all the charac- 
 ters are brought together before an abbey in which Antipholus 
 of Syracuse and his servant have been compelled to take refuge 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 89 
 
 from the mishaps which threaten them. Explanations follow 
 quickly. Aegeon recognizes his son, and the abbess turns out 
 to be the long-lost mother. The Duke pardons Aegeon and 
 there is general rejoicing. 
 
 It will readily be seen that Tlie Comedy of Errors is a much 
 more complicated, and perhaps for that reason, a much less 
 probable play than the Menaechmi. The improbability, how- 
 ever, must be accepted at the beginning, and after that is 
 accomplished it causes little trouble. The movement is so 
 rapid, and the many absurd situations which are possible are 
 so perfectly developed, that one forgets to question whether 
 this could have happened, in feeling how much more diverting 
 is each succeeding scene than was its predecessor. Although 
 the general plot of the Menaechmi is taken over, and a few of 
 the names of the dramatis personae are preserved, compara- 
 tively few of the situations due to mistake are reproduced, and 
 the whole play is recast and altered, so that it bears but little 
 similarity in detail to that on which it was modeled. For 
 instance, the courtesan here plays a strictly minor part and is 
 very little in evidence, Antipholus of Syracuse falls in love 
 with the maiden sister of his brother's wife, and new incidents 
 are introduced at every turn. But the great difference consists 
 in the introduction of the twin slaves Dromio, together with 
 the father and mother of their masters. The whole play 
 borders closely on the reductio ad ahsurdum of the mistaken 
 identity motif, and is never very far from farce, but in its kind 
 it is certainly inimitable. That the scene in which Antipholus 
 of Ephesus is refused entrance to his house may have been 
 originated by Shakspere simply as a development of the general 
 situation is quite possible, but I am inclined to think that he 
 must have been familiar, through whatever medium, with the 
 similar scene in the Amphitruo. The correspondence is prac- 
 tically perfect. In the Latin play a master and his servant are 
 refused admission to their home, are flouted and finally driven 
 off by Mercury playing the role of the servant's double, while 
 Jupiter in the role of the master's double is enjoying himself 
 with the wife of the latter. In The Comedy of Errors we have 
 exactly this situation, except that the intruding master and 
 servant are mortals, and the twin brothers respectively of those 
 who are excluded. It would seem highly improbable that so 
 €xact a parallel should be a mere coincidence. 
 
90 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 In his Manual for the Collector and Amateur of Old PlaySy 
 Hazlitt, following Halliwell, assigns The Birthe of Hercules to 
 the period "about 1590." If this date were correct we should 
 have in that play another example of an adaptation nearly one- 
 third of which is entirely original, the remainder, however, 
 showing many examples of almost literal translation. But, as 
 we shall see, there are a number of reasons for assigning the 
 play to a considerably later date, and as an analysis of it is 
 given in another connection we shall omit it here. 
 
 In May, 1595, a play on the subject of Hercules was 
 brought out in two parts by Martin Slaughter, and judging by 
 the entries in Henslowe'^s Diary ^^ was very successful. In Hens- 
 lowe's "Note of all suche bookes as belong to the Stocks and 
 such as I have bought since the 3d of March 1598," occur both 
 the "1 p* of Hercules" and the "2 p** of Hercoles."* Neither 
 of these has been preserved, and there is no account of their 
 having been printed. In 1613 Thomas Hey wood printed TJie 
 Silver Age and The Bronze Age, the segond and third of his 
 series — The Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Iron Age. TJie Golden 
 Age had been printed in 1611, but Mr. Ward surmises that the 
 whole series belongs "to an early period in Hey wood's career."' 
 It has also been held that Heywood's Silver Age was based on 
 Slaughter's play, and that the former may have been produced 
 shortly after the appearance of the Hercules in 1595. Be that 
 as it may, there can be no doubt that TJie Silver Age, if it does 
 not fall within the actual period we are considering, was 
 written at a time but little posterior to the close of the 
 century, and this fact may justify a consideration of the 'play 
 at this point, though the accurate determination of the date of 
 its production is at present impossible. 
 
 The full title of Heywood's play is The Silver Age — 
 including the love of Jupiter to Alcmena, Tlie Birthe of Hercules, 
 and The Rape of Proserpine, concluding with the Arraignment 
 of the Mooned The main characters number forty-two besides 
 serving-men, swains, Theban ladies, the Seven Planets, and 
 the Furies, and the play is virtually a panorama of loosely- 
 connected scenes, no attempt being made to arrive at anything 
 like real unity. That portion of the play which deals with the 
 
 » V. Henslowe's Diary (Old Shak. Soc. edition), Vol. VII, pp. 61-62. 
 
 3 IMd., p. 276. 
 
 8 Op, ciL, Vol. I, p. 578. 
 
 « Old Shak. Soc. Pub., Vol. VI, p. 89. 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 91 
 
 story of the Amphitruo is confined entirely to the second act, 
 and there is no subdivision into scenes. Homer appears as a 
 kind of chorus throughout, and after a short prologue by him 
 we have a long stage direction, in which the characters of the 
 preceding act are disposed of, and Homer announces : 
 Of Jupiter, now deified and]made 
 Supreme of all the gods, we next proceed. 
 
 The general situation is explained just as in Plautus, except 
 that Mercury's place is filled by Ganymede. The play opens 
 with a soliloquy by Jupiter, followed by a short dialogue 
 between him and Ganymede. The latter, in the guise of Sosia, 
 informs three serving-men of Amphitryon's success in battle; 
 these report to their mistress Alcmena, and presently Jupiter, 
 in the likeness of her husband, appears. In the ensuing 
 dialogue he tells Alcmena all the circumstances of the battle, 
 and presents to her the cup of King Pterelas, which Mercury — 
 not Ganymede — had stolen from Amphitryon's casket. The 
 story up to this point is not related in Plautus at all, and on 
 the other hand, all that part of Act I, Sc. i, of the A^npJiitruo 
 consisting of Sosia's lament over his hard lot, and his private 
 rehearsal of the message he is to deliver to his mistress, is 
 omitted. The correspondence between the two plays begins 
 with the passage relating to Sosia's astonishment as to the 
 length of the night. From this point on Tlie Silver Age 
 follows, with few exceptions, the order of the Amphitruo y and 
 occasionally approaches literal translation, though usually in 
 very short passages. As this whole part of the play takes up 
 only about twenty pages of the Old Shakspere Society edition, it 
 goes without saying that the Latin comedy is extensively **cut" 
 in the adaptation. Whole scenes are omitted and all are 
 shortened. Some of the chief variations are as follows : 
 
 Sosia tells his story of a double, not only to Amphitryon, 
 but also to two captains who accompany the general. 
 
 Alcmena's soliloquy on the hard lot of women, together 
 with the asides of her husband and Sosia {Amph, II, ii), are 
 omitted. 
 
 The Amphitryon-Sosia dialogue at this point is left out, 
 and Alcmena and her servants are introduced in conversation. 
 
 The goblet is produced, after which Amphitryon and Sosia 
 examine the seal and the casket. In Plautus the examination 
 takes place first. 
 
92 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Alcmena's circumstantial account of the events of the pre- 
 ceding night follows the cup incident ; in Plautus it precedes it. 
 
 Of the Amphitruo, Act III, Sc. i and Scs. iii and iv, as also 
 Act IV, Scs. i, ii, and iii are omitted entirely. 
 
 In The Silver Age Jupiter meets and deceives Blepharo and 
 Sosia. The captains, who aa-e original with Heywood, accom- 
 pany Amphitryon and are characters throughout. They 
 desert, believing Jupiter to be Amphitryon. 
 
 Amphitryon and Sosia, when left alone, are both afraid to 
 claim their own names. They fall asleep, and Juno, in great 
 wrath and accompanied by Iris, descends. Then follows the 
 thunder and lightning, and the scene closes, as in Plautus, with 
 Jupiter's explanation. The next act, which deals with "The 
 Birthe of Hercules, " treats of Juno's futile attempts to prevent 
 Alcmena's giving birth to the child. Iris then brings the 
 serpents from Africa, and they are promptly strangled. The 
 play goes on to relate other * 'labors," which Hercules had to 
 undertake on account of Juno's spite. - 
 
 The act is a mere sketch of the Amphitruo, and may be 
 termed a loose adaptation. There are some usually unimpor- 
 tant additions, many omissions and modifications ; the order is 
 generally, though not strictly, followed, and literal translation 
 is rare. The act is written in blank verse, prose, couplets, and 
 quatrains. 
 
 The last of the plays of this period which are either adapta- 
 tions of some comedy of Plautus, or which are indebted to him 
 in some important particular* is Timon of Athens^ an anony- 
 mous play, written or transcribed about the year 1600.* The 
 story of Timon, or the Man-Hater, as he is called in Lucian, 
 was well-known at this time, and is referred to in Lovers 
 Labour'' s Lost and in Shmletlieia^ a collection of epigrams and 
 satires which was published in 1598. The story is told in 
 Plutarch, and from this ultimate source found its way into Tli& 
 Palace of Pleasure. Dyce is usually upheld in his belief that 
 
 * It may be mentioned that John a Kent and John a Cumber contains several 
 suggestions of the "doubt as to one's own identity" motif, 
 a Hazlitt, Shakespeare's Library, Vol. VI. 
 
 8 Skialetheia contains a passage referring to the staging of Plautus's plays at- 
 this time: 
 
 " Or if my dispose 
 Persuade me to a play, He to the Rose, 
 Or Ciu-taine, one of Plautus comedies. 
 Or the patheticke Spaniard's tragedies." 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 93 
 
 Shakspere's play of the same name owes nothing to the earlier 
 anonymous version, but the fact that a scene in which Timon. 
 gives a banquet to his false friends is common to both plays, 
 but is not found either in Lucian or Plutarch, is surely very 
 difficult of explanation unless we recognize some connection 
 between the two plays. The general subject has no connection 
 with any of Plautus's comedies, but the character of Philar- 
 garus, the miser, is in many respects closely modeled on that 
 of Enclio in the Aulularia^ the latter play being sometimes 
 followed even to literal translation, and again there are certain 
 scenes and incidents which hark back to Latin comedy. The 
 different kinds of borrowing I shall consider in order : 
 
 1. Names. Gelasimus, a city heir, bears the same name as the 
 
 parasite in Stichus. 
 
 2. Translated Lines ,^ Cf. : 
 
 her gowne is rent, 
 Or ells shee stands in neede of a gould ringe, (p. 399). 
 with 
 
 Aut periit aurum aut conscissa pallula est. 
 
 Tniculentus, Act I, Sc. i, 1. 32. 
 
 Compare also Grunnio's description of Philargarus : 
 Hee tells 
 How many spyders are about his house, 
 Leaste any 'one of us steale one of them: 
 
 When hee sleepes 
 Ties a paire of bellowes to his winde-pipe. 
 Ob. Why soe? 
 
 Grun. Least in his sleepe he lose parte of his breathe, 
 with two passages descriptive of Euclio: 
 
 Araneas mi ego illas servari volo. 
 
 Avlularia, I, ii, 9. 
 and 
 
 Quin quom it dormitum follem obstringit ob gulam. 
 Anth. Cur? Str. Nequid animae forte amittat dormiens. 
 
 Aulularia, III, i, 302-303. 
 3. Similarity of individual scenes or passages, 
 {a) The enumeration of dishes at the banquet given by Timon 
 
 (p. 462) recalls similar lists frequently given in Plautus. 
 (b) Cf . the extract : 
 
 Give me free passage ; ye knowen and unknowen persons, gette ye 
 out of my way, least, as I goe, I offende any with my heade, my 
 elbowe or my breaste, (p. 481). 
 
 » Both tliese passages are pointed out in Hazlitt's edition of the play. 
 
94 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 with any of the similar speeches in Plautus, e.g., Captivi, IV, 
 ii, in which Ergasilus announces that his fist is a balista, his 
 arm a catapulta and his shoulder a battering-ram, and intimates 
 further that those who meet him will probably soon find occu- 
 pation in picking up their teeth. 
 (c) In the epilogue Timon asks for a "plaudite,*' as was 
 
 usually done on the Roman stage. 
 4. Characterization. 
 
 Pseudocheus, the lying traveler, and Lollio, the intoxi- 
 cated country clown, declare, the one that he has slain 2,000 
 Amazons at once, the other that he has this day killed 3,000 
 Trojans. This specific boasting recalls that of Pyrgopolinices 
 and his parasite. Another side of the character of Plautus 's 
 "miles gloriosus" is suggested in Gelasimus, the half-witted fop, 
 who is in love with himself, and believes that all women dote 
 on him. But the great example of borrowing in the way of 
 characterization is to be found in the picture of Philargarus, 
 the miser, who is a direct reproduction of Euclio. When first 
 we meet him he is giving orders to his servant to protect his 
 house properly, lest some one break in and steal. When he 
 believes that his hidden gold has been found, he gives vent to 
 his despair in a speech (p. 435), which is almost a free transla- 
 tion of Euclio's outburst under precisely similar circumstances 
 {Aulul. Ill, vi). His intense desire to get his daughter married 
 to a rich man and without a dowry — "without a dowry, that, 
 remember that" — is the counterpart of one of the chief aims in 
 the life of Euclio. Cf., e.g., Euclio's ^^At nil est dotis quod 
 dem'*'' (II, ii, 238), and 'HUudfacito ut memineris convenisse ut 
 nequid dotis mea ad te afferret filia'*^ (II, ii, 257-58). We have 
 already seen that Philargarus, like Euclio, counts tl\e spiders of 
 his house, and has a device for saving his breath. Grunnio is 
 "more hungry than hunger," and there is nothing to eat in his 
 master's house ; Staphyla gives us the same information regard- 
 ing the house of Euclio. These examples establish clearly 
 -enough the relation between the two misers, and though the 
 situations in which the character of Philargarus is developed are 
 not all derived from the Aulularia, his actions never belie his 
 kinship with the family of Euclio. 
 
 I do not purpose at this point to make an exhaustive study 
 of the influence of the Latin comedy-writers on Ben Jonson ; I 
 
THE LAST DECADE OF THE CENTURY 93 
 
 wish merely to refer to the beginnings of a movement of which 
 Jonson was from the first the recognized leader. His earliest 
 extant plays are animated by a spirit of intense admiration for 
 the ancient comedy, and intense dislike of the unregulated 
 beauties of the contemporary comic muse. The portraying of 
 the manners of his time in a drama, which, constructed on 
 classical models, should aim at purely artistic excellence, was 
 the object he set before himself. In the prologue to Every 
 Man in his Humour (played in 1596, printed in 1598), he carries 
 forward the laments and scorn of Sidney and Whetstone, and 
 ridicules the **ill customs of the age," which compel the 
 playwright 
 
 To make a child, no\^ swaddled, to proceed 
 Man, and then shoot up, in one beard, and weed, 
 Past threescore years. 
 
 What he himself proposes to do he also declares. He will show 
 
 forth 
 
 . . . deeds and language such as men do use : 
 And persons, such as comedy would choose, 
 "When she would show an image of the times, 
 And sport with human follies, not with crimes. 
 
 This he believed to be the legitimate end of comedy, and he 
 found that it was practically exemplified in the Latin drama. 
 His perfect familiarity with the latter now became the strongest 
 element in the development of his artistic creed. "We may 
 collect," says Gifford, "from The Case is Altered and Every 
 Man in his Humour that he was recent from the study of 
 Plautus and Terence."^ Indeed, it is not difficult to imagine 
 him as having his models open before him as he wrote, espe- 
 cially in such a passage as that in the epilogue of Every 
 Man out of his Humour where he says: "I will not do as 
 Plautus in his Amphytrio for all this stimmi Jovis causa 
 plaudite; beg a plaudite for God's sake ; but if you out of the 
 bounty of your goodness will bestow it," etc. But Jonson's 
 plays are far from being English translations of Latin comedy. 
 It was because he saw in the latter artistic transcriptions of 
 real life, and because he felt that this was the ideal which 
 comedy should strive to attain, that he consciously and 
 deliberately made Plautus and Terence his models. His first 
 play betrays its prototype at every page while remaining 
 
 1 Memoirt, p. Ixx. 
 
96 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 thorouglily original and essentially English. **Its relation to 
 Latin comedy," says Mr. Herford, **is indeed unmistakable. 
 Most of the ^humours' have prototypes there. The jealous 
 husband, the timid father, the rakish sons, the boasting 
 soldier, the cunning slave of Plautus and Terence have helped 
 {pace Gifford) to suggest Kitely and KnoVell, Edward 
 KnoVell and Wellbred, Bobadil and Brainworm. But only to 
 suggest them. No more genuine sketches of London character 
 are to be found in the drama. They are drawn, not from 
 books, but from observation, and as an observer Jonson had no 
 equal among his contemporaries save Shakespeare."^ 
 
 The appearance of Every Man in his Humour announced 
 and marked a distinct epoch in the development of English 
 drama. It was not the beginning of a movement destined to 
 overthrow the triumphs hitherto secured by romantic drama; 
 it was the inauguration of a school of comedy which was to 
 stand for the more severe, more restrained, more simple types 
 of beauty — and this is applicable with regard both to the 
 matter and the form — as opposed to the dominant ignoring of 
 the larger formal beauties, and the exaltation of heterogeneous 
 excellences presented in a carelessly unrelated fashion. The 
 influence of Jonson and his ** tribe" on the development of 
 the brilliant Romantic school must have been of the most vital 
 kind, and its effect is to be seen in many works which unite 
 classical and romantic characteristics — the works of men who 
 had listened to the seer of the Mermaid Tavern. A quarter of 
 a century after the beginning of his career as a dramatist, 
 Jonson must admit that 
 
 Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please 
 
 But antiquated and deserted lie 
 
 As they were not of Nature's family. 
 
 — compelled to yield to the all-compelling power of Shak- 
 spere's genius. Romanticism in the drama had continued to 
 flourish in spite of the strength of Jonson 's work, but it was 
 after having incorporated many of the best characteristics of 
 a classical comedy, the influence of which had not been entirely 
 dissipated when another movement began which was to result 
 in the literary supremacy of classical ideals. 
 
 > Op. cit., pp. xviii-xix. 
 
.;^V' 
 
 or ,K 
 
 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
tTHE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 PROLOGUS LAUREATUS 
 
 I am a Prologue ; should I not tell you soe 
 You would scarse know me, tis soe longe agoe 
 Since Prologues were in use. Men put behinde 
 Now that they were wont to put before. 
 .Thepilogue is in fashion, prologues no more. 
 But as an ould Cyttye woman well 
 Becomes her white capp still, an ould preist 
 His shaued crowne, A crosse an ould church dore, 
 Soe well befyttes a prologue an ould plaie. 
 
 10 And this is ould, soe ould as none is more, 
 First plaide in Athens in the grascian tonge, 
 Since fine tymes plaid in lattin, and in Rome. 
 There t has bene clapt by Consulls and emperors. 
 Then if yt lyke not you, blame not the Comedie, 
 But the poet, thactors, your-selues or all three. 
 And mark you that it is a Comedie, 
 Or tragicke Comedye, call yt which you will; 
 .Tis no historic, Ballett, nor Borras tale, 
 No pleasant newe Interlude, no pretty toye, 
 
 » No pestered deuise, with Actors crowded in, 
 
 Drumbes, Ensignes, phiphes, targetes & rusty sword es; 
 
 As farre from hence as deuills or inkhome wordes 
 
 But all was saide when it was saide twas ould 
 
 *The wurst,' sales some; he is not ould that sales soe; 
 
 *The better,' he must sale, that would be soe. 
 
 And whie the wurste? Bycause ould thinges are stale? 
 
 woomen perhapps, houses, garmentes, and ould ale ; 
 
 But what sale you to ould gould, what to ould honesty, 
 
 Ould faith and troth, better then twentie bondes, 
 
 9$ Ould charitie, ould harty sporte, and meryment? 
 0, had you sene the world when Grandame Jone 
 Did call your Grandsire John, & he was well content ! 
 
 t Folio 1 = blank flyleat 
 
100 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Some will not lyke those same translated thinges, 
 meaninge by plaies? for a translated sute 
 Will lyke them wondrous well ; but let them knowe 
 Our poetes aucthor himself translated it 
 
 Some for addinge to yt and alteringe yt * rvk)^^li 
 
 must be offended, which for your sake 
 Our Poet did, yet no Iniustice neither, 
 But his Aucthor, who hath done the lyke w 
 
 himself to others in many Comedies, 
 In his Asinaria,^ Casina, Mercdtor, Epidicus, 
 And after him Terence in Phormio & Eunuchus ; 
 Besides, French and Italiens doe the same, 
 f Some will condempne as unfyttinge heathen mouth 
 the use of Christian asseueracions, 
 Which use let use excuse. Soe in this playe 
 Our aucthor, oftentymes yeeldinge to forme, 
 Sweres by Hercules ere Hercules was borne. 
 But our poet lookes not to doe more 5o 
 
 Then Joue himself, who, raine he or hould he up, 
 pleases not all : tis enough if he please some. 
 And soe much might this Comedye more pleasinge be 
 bycause yt patternes out a highe mistery. 
 But one thinge he bad me tell you : pardone him this. 
 And he craues us pardon for his next amysse. 
 
 1 Written " Aslnanla " in MS. 
 tFol. 2 verse. 
 
fMERCURIUS PROLOGUS 
 
 Yon would thinke yt were daie 
 
 Now, I am sure ; noe, it is night, 
 
 Or at least, an you be good fellowes, 
 
 Thinke soe for this once. Soe perhapps 
 
 You would take me for a man. 
 
 But you are deceiued, for I am a god, 
 
 And that by this good night ; yet I doe not wonder 
 
 You should mistake me, for unles yt be 
 
 The maskinge god Cupid, you may well 
 
 10 Haue heard of the ould Goddes, but I thinke 
 It is a good while since you see any of us. 
 Well, you are lyke to see twoe of us to-night, 
 An you will, at least — an you will not 
 You may chuse, — my father Jupiter & my-self , 
 Merry Mercury, with one of the maddest prankes 
 That euer my father and I plaied, and yet 
 If you will beleue in the poets gospell 
 We haue plaied a hundreth in our dales. 
 The place where we now are is Thebes ; 
 
 90 This is Amphitruo his house, 
 
 A great lord of this countrie, under Kinge Creon, 
 
 And now at this instant, his deputy generall 
 
 Of his Armye against the Teleboians, 
 
 Upon whome he hath gotten a notable victory. 
 
 In this meanetyme my father Jupiter, 
 
 haveinge taken upon him his shape, 
 
 Plaies his deputy speciall here at home 
 
 With his wyef , faire Alcumena, 
 
 Who verylie takes him for her husband. 
 
 *) And he, by thadvantage of the night, 
 Makes her beleiue that for her sake 
 He stole awaie of purpose from his Armye, 
 But must be gone againe in any wise 
 to be there by breake of daie. 
 
 tFoL3a. 
 
 101 
 
102 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Indeed he could not staie longer bycause of 
 Amphitruo his comeing home. 
 In this meane-while Amphitruo sends home 
 To his Lady a messenger of his good successe, 
 And after him another for faile, 
 
 And by to-morowe will be here himself. 4q 
 
 And this is my office to send them backe againe 
 As wise as they came, for disturbeing of my father, 
 And to doe him such other services as you shall see 
 hereafter, till his busines be dispatcht. 
 fTo this purpose haue I made my-self 
 as lyke Sosia, the first of these messengers, 
 as ys possible, and am taken here in the house 
 for the very same. And I can but smile 
 to see how kinde Alcumenas wayting woman, 
 Thessala, is to me, thinking suerly , so 
 
 that I am her lone Sosia. But that 
 you may knowe us asunder, I will 
 were in my hatt a peice of a fether 
 for a difference ; and the same difference 
 shalbe betwixt my father and Amphitruo, 
 which none els shall perceaue but you. 
 
 And here comes in my Image to begin with all. 
 Now mark the sequell, but tell me 
 when we haue done, whither I and my 
 player plaied our partes well or noe. w 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Sosia, Servus Amphyt. 
 
 Mercurius. 
 
 Dromio, alter Ser. Amphyt. 
 
 Jupiter. 
 
 Alcumen^a, uxor Amphyt. 
 
 Thessala, pedissequa Ale. 
 
 Amphitruo, Imperator exercitu. - 
 
 Blepharo, nauclerus. 
 
 Bromia, altera e pedissequis Ale. 9. 
 
 tFoL 3 to. 
 
tTHE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 ACTUS PRIMUS 
 
 SCENA I 
 
 S08IA MERCURIUS 
 
 (Ad oomoediae magnificentiam apprime oonferet ut coelum Hie- 
 trionium sit luna & stellis perspicue distinctum. 
 
 Notae marginales inseniiant dirigendae histrioniae. 
 Mercurius exeat cum scipione in manu.)* 
 
 S. Am not I a bould slaue, that knowinge fashions as I doe, 
 dare alone adventure abrode thus late in the night? What 
 if I should meete with the watch, and Master Constable 
 should come and examyne me? "What are you. Sir?" **A 
 gentleman," saye I, **at the least." Well, he makes no 
 question of yt, and yet I make a question whither I shall 
 fare the better for yt. "Then from whence come you?" 
 I tell him, and he beleues me not. Or saie I tell him 
 not, but giue the base fellow crosse language, and aske 
 
 ) him, "What skilt you? How dare you be soe boulde as 
 
 examyne any of the kinges servauntes?" for soe I may 
 
 make him beleiue. Then he, meaninge Master Constable, 
 
 laies the kinges servaunte, meaninge me, in the gaole. 
 
 M. [Aside.] Where thou wilt wish the twice, I beleue, to be 
 
 from hence, yet eare thou goest. 
 S. I, and that which is worse, what if the pesant, havinge a 
 knavish skonce lyke mine, come and floute me when he 
 hath done, and aske me where the kinges servauntes 
 should be lodged but in the kinges owne house? I' faith, 
 
 then I haue made a fayre trauell of yt ; yet forsooth I must 
 
 needes be gone by night, and might not be suffred to 
 
 staie till morninge. This it is to serve great men; they 
 
 tFol. 4 a. ~~~~" 
 All these directions In the MS. are written in the wide margins. 
 
 1C3 
 
104 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 knowe much what labour is, and they regard as much what 
 thine is, and yet there is ever about them some thinge to 
 doe, & done yt must be, there is no remedie. 
 
 M. [Aside,] It were a wonder to see a base servaunte at 
 anye tyme contented, or ever to heare him speake well of 
 his Master. 
 
 S. Well, yet it is some ease to my mynde that my Master 
 would rather countenance me with the message then that so 
 ill fac't rascall Dromio, who had more need to be well 
 Countenanced then I, though I sale yt my-self. 
 
 M. [Aside.] As good as your Countenance is, I doubt not 
 but to see the coppie of yt altered eare you and I parte. 
 
 f S. (Meticulose) Tis late night, and me-thinkes I feele in my- 
 self more then ordinarie devotion. I had not a better 
 mynde to my praiers a great while, and I must needes 
 confesse I praie so seldome that if a mischeif should befall 
 me to-night yt is no more then I haue well deserued. 
 (In morem orantis) 
 
 M. [Aside,] I, now the villeine is afraied, now he remem-4a 
 bers God; this is iust the fashion of men. Yet it is well 
 he can acknowledge what he is worthie of. 
 
 S. Tut, Sosia, pluck up a good harte ; doest thou not come 
 from the warrs? Is not victorie on thy side? I, such vic- 
 torie who could ever haue hoped for? Our Enymies, whoe 
 were in nomber aboue us, utterly overthrowne by the good 
 conducte of our noble generall, the Story of which over- 
 throwe I am to deliuer to his Lady and my mistres, which is 
 the cause of my comeinge hither at this tyme. But I had 
 best first call yt to minde by my-self, that yt be done with- eo 
 out haglinge before her, least soe I disgrace my-self in the 
 presence of my best beloved and most sweet Thessala. 
 After we came on lande an Ambassador was dispatcht to 
 the Enymie, to require restytucion of such thinges as they 
 had taken from us, and on that condicion to offer them 
 peace, otherwise warre. They denied restytucion; here- 
 upon followed warre. The Armies were brought forth on 
 both sides. I stood a quarter of a mile of behinde a hill, 
 from whence I might easily discouer what was done, and 
 that with double advantage. For if we gott the dale I was » 
 
 sure to be one of the first at ransackinge the tentes, while 
 ___ - 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 105 
 
 others were occupied in pursuynge them that fledd; if 
 we lost yt, I had a faire starte of the [rest]^ for runynge 
 awaie. But, by the masse, I must take heed of stumblingo 
 upon this before my lady and mistres : soe were I quite 
 shamed for ever. "No, I was by, madame, an eye wytnes, 
 though not a very nigh wytnes of all. The signe beinge 
 given and the alarum sounded, both Armies ioyned together. 
 There was heavinge and shovinge, killinge and slayinge. 
 
 TO But in a small time the Enymie began to flye soe fast that 
 
 where I was a-fightinge I found not one man to resyste 
 
 me." All this while I am sure I lye not. 
 
 M. lAside.] Noe, I dare answere for the. 
 
 S. **As they fledd, in the chace Amphitruo my Lord, our 
 
 worthie generall, killed Kinge Pterelas himself hand to 
 
 hande. The fight lasted from morninge till night, well 
 
 fare all good tokens, for that dale I went without any 
 
 dynner, and with the approach of night the pursute ended. 
 
 f The next daie the whole Cyttie came out barefoote and 
 
 a) bare-headed, to yeeld themselues, and all they had, into our 
 handes. And to our Lord Amphitruo, for his specyall 
 desarte, they presented a goodlie Cupp, the same that their 
 kinge he slewe was wonte to drinke in." And soe now I 
 see I am readie in my tale. I will hasten home while yt 
 is freshe in my memorie, least I forget yt againe. 
 M. [Aside.] Now is he comeinge hither; I will meet him 
 half waie. An if he come anie nearer these dores at this tyme 
 let Mercury be beleived on his word no more. I must haue 
 a lytle sport with him. And as I am lyke him in Shape, soe 
 
 iH) will I, for this once, be content to become lyk him in man- 
 ners to, I meane as craftie a Jybinge knave as he, for there 
 is the credytt to put a man downe at his owne weapon. 
 But me-thinkes he stands gazinge up soe earnestlie he hath 
 spied some wonder in the Element. I will laie my lief yt 
 is the man in the moone. 
 8. Is the moone and the starres sleepe drunke to-nighte, 
 trowe we? The seauen starrs, Charles wayne, the pianettes 
 move not a whytt, and daie seemes as farre of now as yt 
 did eight houres agoe. 
 
 100 M. [Aside.] Goe on, night, goe on, and favour my fathers 
 
 J Word omitted in copy of MS. 
 t Fol. 5 a. 
 
106 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 pleasure still ; thou canst not doe seruice, good night, to 
 a better man. 
 
 S. I haue found the reason now, He laye my lief on't : and 
 the moone and her companie be not drunke now, at the least 
 the Sonne was drunke yesternight, and that makes him lye 
 in bedd soe longe this morninge. 
 
 M. [Aside.] This vylleine thinkes the immortal Gods to be 
 lyke himself. But tis all one; that is, he shall haue one 
 reckoninge for all a-none. 
 
 S. Ha, where are those good fellowes now that lye alone, no 
 bycause they cannot chuse, for want of abedfellowe? This 
 were no night for a man to lye with a wench in. 
 
 M. [Aside.] The fellowe speakes wysely, and accordinge to 
 his councell ; my father hath chosen this night to lye with 
 his mistres in. 
 
 S. Well, I will hence. But whats he me-thinkes I see at 
 the dore at this tyme of night? I doe not lyke yt. (obnixe 
 circumspectans) 
 
 M. [Aside.] As fainte-harted a villeine as lyves againe. 
 
 S. Who can tell whither I now wantinge a lodginge, he be 
 one of those that will interteine a man of free cost at the 12a 
 signe of the Cudgell. Or yt may ^be it is some pittifull 
 gentleman, that knowinge my master hath made me watch 
 for the one halfe of the night, he wilbe soe good as laie me 
 a-sleep for the other. I doe not lyke his looke ; for the 
 eone of god, what a sturdie knave yt is to see to ! 
 
 M. [Aside. ] In good time, Sir. Well, now will I advance my 
 voyce a lytle that he maieheare me. — In faith, gentle Cud- 
 gell, you haue done me seruice to speake of this moneth ; 
 mutch about that time yt was when yow laid nyne asleepe 
 altogether. 13a 
 
 S. His Cudgell and he are verie familiar, as yt semes; I 
 praie God I be not drawne into the acquaintance, to. Let 
 me see; yt has laid nyne asleepe, as he sales, alreadie. Tis 
 an odd number, that same nine; tis ten to one and I be not 
 taken up to make it euen.^ 
 
 M. I will ; I will stale no longer. 
 
 S. Yt is euen as I said. What the deuill shall I doe? 
 
 M. He shall never scape my fingers. 
 
 tFol. 5 b. ' 
 
 » This sentence is an emendation in place of the following words, crossed out: 
 'if he should take me up for a . . . or soe, to make upp the tenth," 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 107 
 
 S. Whome doth he meane, thinke you? 
 140 M. Whosoeuer comes next in my walke, he shall haue 
 
 cndgellinge his bellie full. 
 S. I doe not love to eate thus late in the night: he may doe 
 
 well to bestowe his Almes on them that be hungrie. 
 M. Ha, tis a cudgell for the nonce : tis not a haire lighter 
 
 then it should be. 
 S. Nowe he hath waied yt, the next thinge he has to doe is 
 
 to measure yt upon my shoulders. 
 M. What if I giue him but a gentle blowe to cast him in a 
 
 slumber? 
 ISO S. Then yt saues my lief, for I want nothinge but Sleepe. 
 M. But what talk I of this? My Cudgell, I knowe, cannot 
 
 giue a gentle blowe ; yt neuer toucht man yet but yt marde 
 
 the fashion of his face. 
 S. Thats well; then, belyke, I am to haue a newe face. 
 
 I had even as live keepe my ould still, thoughe yt be none 
 
 of the best. This were the onely fellowe in the world for 
 
 Dromio to meet withall ; he is sure he cannot haue a wurse. 
 
 At a venture, would he were now in my rome. 
 
 160 f M. Is there not a voice come flyinge to my eares? 
 
 S. Has my voice winges, then? An I had knowne soe much 
 
 before, I could haue dipt them, by my voices leave. 
 M. It is some villeinie, sure, that I must be faine to lade with 
 
 blowes. 
 S. A good iest. I can scarse get emptie, I am so wearie; 
 
 how shall I doe, thinke yee, when I am laden? 
 
 M. 1 see him now ; heare he comes towardes me. 
 
 S. I begin to feele my-self in a monstrous euill takinge; I 
 
 170 must needes confesse I can scarse tell where I am. As for 
 
 my Lordes message, thats scard out of my head by this 
 
 time. But yet I will set a good face^ ont', and speake as 
 
 » The following is here crossed out: 
 M. Come, my cudgell is wood madd to bee at him. 
 
 S. Ant* be soe madd, would you wold tame yt a lytle on the wall first, eare yt 
 byte my shoulders. 
 
 t Pol. 6 a. 
 
 * The following is here crossed out : 
 M. Hark, methinkes I heare some scuruie fellowe talkinge. 
 S. An his name be Dromio, good enough, my name ys Sosia. 
 
 » Looks like " fact " in MS. 
 
108 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 well as my hart will giue me leave, to make him the more 
 
 unwillinge to medle with me. 
 M. Sirra, whither walke you there, you with the home & 
 
 the lanteme? 
 S. (Inversio ex pauore) A man might breake a lest now, an 
 
 yt were 8oe convenient, and saie, **Horne an you will, but 
 
 lanteme in your face." But I will forbeare for this once, 
 
 yet he shall not goe unanswered neyther. — Si-Si-Sir, what iw 
 
 haue you to doe that are a maker of newe faces? 
 M. Sirra, tell me in fewe wordes, from whence you come, 
 
 whose you are, and whither you goe. 
 S. In as fewe as you would wish, Sir : I come from hence, Sir, 
 
 I am my maisters man, and am goeinge hither. I thinke 
 
 you are answered. 
 M. Answered, indeed, after a fashion, but I will bridle that 
 
 tounge of yours an yee answere me no hansomer. 
 S. You seeme to mistake me. Sir. I am no horse that my 
 
 tounge should be bridled. iw 
 
 M. I beleive I shall make you a horse or some such thinge 
 
 (you knowe my meaninge) yet ere you and I parte. 
 S. Ha, Ha, He ! I dare saie you meane an Asse, Sir. 
 M. I am gladd you are mery. Sir. But you will tell, I am 
 
 sure, for all this, what busines you haue heare. 
 S. Nay then. Sir, what busines haue you heare? 
 M. I will not shirke to tell you. Sir. I ame one of the watch 
 
 appointed here for this night, 
 f S. Tis well done. When Enimies are abroade watch and 
 
 ward should be kept at home. But I'faith, Master watch- 200 
 
 man, an you be a good f ellowe, tell them within that one 
 
 of their famylie is come. 
 M. I knowe not how you meane. Sir, *one of their familie,' 
 
 but an you be not gone the soner, I feare me I shall use 
 
 you somewhat to familiarlie. 
 S. Begone, quoth he; whie I tell you, man, here I dwell, 
 
 and here I am servaunte. 
 M. And I tell you, stale but a lytle longer. He make you be 
 
 carryed awaie as if you were maister. 
 S. How meane you that. Sir? 210 
 
 M. Mary, with state, upon mens shoulders, if I but once 
 
 lifte up this cudgell. 
 
 tFol. 6 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 109 
 
 S. Doe what you will, Sir, but I sale still, and will main- 
 
 teine, that I am one of this houshould. 
 M. Yow wilbe gone? 
 
 S. Will yow let one from comeinge into their owne house? 
 M. Is this your house? 
 S. It is, I will stand to yt. 
 
 M. I praie the, whoe is the maister, canst thou tell? 
 «o S. Amphitruo, the generall of the Theban Army, husband to 
 
 Alcumena. 
 M. Amphitruo thy maister? Tell me then, whats thy name? 
 S. I am called, at home, Sosia; ould Dauus was my father. 
 M. Out upon the, villeine ! Comest thou hither with soe 
 
 many lies patcht together? 
 S. Indeed my Coate may be patcht, but I knowe not what 
 
 you meane by patchinge of lyes. 
 M. Your cote may be facet to, maie yt not? Well, for your 
 
 patchinge and faceinge I will giue you a bombastinge to, to 
 »o teach you to speake truelye here-after. 
 S. But how an a man will not be bombasted? 
 M. But how an a man cannot chuse? [Mercury beats him, 
 S. Hei, heu, hoi ! I beseech you. Sir. 
 M. Barest thou sale to me, villeine, thou art Sosia, when I 
 
 my-self am Sosia? 
 f S. Alas, what shall I doe? 
 M. Naie, this is but a lytle of the best to that that is beside. 
 
 Now, Sir, an a man may aske you, whose are you, I praie you? 
 
 S. yours, Sir, youres, I were your colors heare, none but 
 
 240 youres. Sir. You haue taken me, me-thinkes, into your 
 
 owne handes. 
 M. Tell me, then, wherefore are you come? 
 S. Tis plaine. Sir; I marvell you will aske the question. 
 
 Yow see yourself, — to be beaten. 
 M. He beate you better yet an you answere me not the 
 
 soner. Whose man are yow once againe? 
 S. An I will tell you once againe, I am Amphitruo his man 
 
 M. What? Againe Sosia? [Beats him again. 
 
 SGO S. Murder ! murder ! Some honest Theban come helpe me. 
 M. Your bawlinge shall not helpe you. I tell the yet againe, 
 I am Sosia. 
 
 tFoL 7 a. 
 
110 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 S. An you be not, would you were els for me, that yow might 
 be as suerly cudgelled as Sosia is. 
 
 M. Now tell me once more, whoe is your maister? 
 
 S. Even whome yow will, Sir. 
 
 M. And what might be your name? 
 
 S. Now be you my godfather. Sir, I praie you; giue me 
 what name you will. I think you had best call me Stock- 
 fish instead of Sosia, for yow seeme to take me for no lesse. 36o 
 
 M. This ys you that said even now you were Sosia, yow 
 Amphitruo his man. 
 
 S. I conf esse, Sir, my tonge tript ; I would not haue said 
 Sosia; I would haue said, *Soe as you saie.' 
 
 M. I knew he had no servaunte Sosia but my-self. I thinke 
 thou wert not well in thy wyttes. 
 
 S. May a man but speake to you, Sir, by your good leaue, a 
 word or twoe of free cost, without payinge for yt ? 
 
 M. Goe to; I am content to make truce with the for a tyme. 
 
 S. Sweare you will not touch me, then. w» 
 
 M. Trust me of my word; I will not. 
 
 S. And soe I may, now I remember me, for hither-to you 
 haue kept yt with me ; but how if you breake y t now? 
 
 f M. Then let Mercury be Sosia his mortall Enimy. 
 
 S. Well, now I male speake what I list, I am Amphitruo 
 his man Sosia. 
 
 M. You are, Sir? [Beats him. 
 
 S. Sir, you haue made truce with me, and are bound by 
 your worde, and I speak nothinge but truth. 
 
 M. I care not for that. 280 
 
 S. Nay, use me as you please ; I conf esse you are the better 
 man. Yet I will neuer deny while I line but that I am Sosia, 
 one of the servauntes of this house, who with my fellow 
 Dromio went from hence with our Lord Amphitruo. 
 
 M. Out of doubt I see now thou art not well in thy wyttes. 
 
 S. Good Lord, Sir, that you will deny that I am my maisters 
 Sosia ! Did not our ship come this night from the Haven? 
 Did not my Master send me hither? Doe I not stand now 
 before our house? Have I not a lanterne in my hande? 
 Doe I not speak? Am I not awake? Haue I not bene well sw 
 cudgelled? What should let me then to goe straight into 
 our house? 
 
 tFol. 7 b. 
 
^HE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 111 
 
 M. Your house? 
 
 S. I, our house ; soe I sale, doe what you will. 
 
 M. Villeine, thou hast lyed hitherto in every worde thou 
 hast spoken, for I am that Sosia that went with Amphitruo 
 from hence, that was present at the action, sawe the 
 towne deliuered, knowe that my Lord killed kinge Pterelas 
 with his owne hands. 
 300 S. [Aside.] How now? Nay, then, I will not beleve myself 
 that I am Sosia, an he goe on thus a lytle further. — But I 
 praie you. Sir, an a man may speake without correccion, you 
 sale you were by at the deliuery of the towne ; can you tell 
 a man what present was giuen Amphitruo by the Teleboians? 
 
 M. The cup that kinge Pterelas himself was wonte to 
 drinke in. 
 
 S. [Aside.] He hath tould yt. — But, an you will not be 
 angrie for askinge. Sir, where might this cupp be? 
 
 M. Tis sealed up in a Caskett with Amphitruo his owne scale. 
 310 S. infynite! I beseech you. Sir, but the scale? 
 
 M. The Sonne rysinge, drawne in an Azure coatch with foure 
 flame-colored horses. 
 
 S. [Aside,] By Jupiter, he hath put me downe by plaine 
 Argumentes. I must be faine to goe gett me a ^newe name, 
 for any-thinge I see. Yet I cannot Imagine where he should 
 leame all this. But now I remember my-self, I will aske 
 him one thinge he shall never be hable to tell me while he 
 Hues, — that I did alone in the tente when no christian mann 
 was by me. — Sir, if yow be Sosia, when the legions had bene 
 320 a good while in chace of the Enimy, what did you alone 
 when you came to your lordes tente? Tell me but that, and 
 I yeeld for ever. 
 
 M. I ran to a hoggshead of wyne and filled a botle. 
 
 S. [Aside.] He is in the waie alreadie. 
 
 M. Then sat me downe upon a feilde-bedd by, & drunke yt 
 of, every dropp. 
 
 S. [Aside.] True, by the Lord, true; unles he were then 
 in the bottom of the bottle I cannot gesse how the 
 devill he should knowe yt. 
 830 M. Now, Sir, haue I convinced you by sufficient proof es that 
 I am Sosia? 
 
 S. You sale you are, Sir. 
 
 tFol. 8 a. ~~~ ' 
 
lli^ THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 M And have reason to, I thinke. 
 
 S. (Lachrymanter) But I durst be swome by Jupiter that I 
 am Sosia. 
 
 M. And I dare sweare by Mercury that Jupiter will beleeve 
 me of my worde, before he will beleue the on thy othe. 
 
 S. I beseech you, Sir, doe but tell me whoe should I be, as 
 you thinke, if I be not Sosia? 
 
 M. Sir, when I leaue to be Sosia, you male be he for any- 340 
 thinge I knowe ; in the meane-time be gone presently, or 
 els you knowe what will followe. 
 
 S. As I line, when I looke upon him he is soe lyke me that 
 me*-thinkes I see my-self in a glasse. His hatt, his clothes 
 are lyke myne. His legge, his foote, his stature, his nose, 
 his lippes, his cheekes, his beard, every parte of him. 
 What should I saie more? (itenira Lachrymanter) If he 
 haue as manie blowes on his shoulders as I haue to, 
 there were never twoe egges lyker one another. And yet 
 me-thinkes on the other side, when I Remember my-self, Isso 
 was neuer, that I can call to mynde, but the same man. 
 I remember my maister; I knowe his house; I am not a- 
 sleepe ; I am not drunke : whie then should not I be Sosia? 
 I am Sosia, & I will goe into our house, that I will. 
 
 M. Whither now. Sir? 
 
 S. To our house. 
 
 M. Yet againe, *our house'? Get yow gone quicker without 
 more wordes, you had best, or els He make youre skynne 
 of more colors then the walls of your house. 
 
 f S. May not I tell my mistres what my Master badd me? 8«> 
 
 M. Goe tell your mistres what you liste. As for her that 
 dwells here, she is my mistres, and if you see her to-daie yt 
 shall cost you dearlie. 
 
 S. Nay, He be gone first; t'has cost me enough already; 
 would you bare parte of my charges! [Aside,] Lord in 
 heuen, what a thinge is this! Whats become of me, trowe 
 yee? When did I loose my-self? When was I chaunged? 
 Did I leaue my-self yonder & perhapps forgett yt? For he 
 hath all the shape I haue heare as iust as a hayre. Well, I 
 will retume to my maister, and let him knowe of all that stq 
 hath pasti if he hath forgotten me, to, I will even to the 
 fonte and unchristen my-self againe. 
 
 » Written ♦• my" in MS. t FoL 8 to. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES IIS 
 
 SCEN II 
 
 MEBCUBIUS SOLUS 
 
 (Hilariter) 
 
 Hitherto onr busines goes forward well, and I thinke I 
 haue done my father good seruice. But all is not done 
 yet; there is another blocke to remoue. For Amphitruo, 
 longing to comforte his wief with these gladd tydinges of 
 his vyctorie, despatches his man Dromio presentlie after 
 Sosia in another shipp, that if one should chance to 
 miscarry the other might happilie aryve in time. Sosia 
 arryued, as you see, in an evill houre, and, with a flea in 
 his eare, is sent backe againe. Now Dromio his shipp by a 
 Bodene tempest was brought into such distresse that hardlie 
 the villeine escaped shipwracke. But this was my fathers 
 doeinge, least if one hadd to sodenly arryved after the 
 other, yt might haue bredd some disturbance to our busi- 
 nes. Now is he comeing hard by, as Jocund as maie for 
 his escape, and especyallie by cause he bringes a ringe for 
 a token from his maister to his mistres, and Sosia had 
 none, whome his hope is yet to preuent, and gett the 
 maidenhead of his mistresses thank es for his good tydinges. 
 But this ringe of his must I haue by some deuise from 
 him, and then send him after his fellowe Sosia. And here 
 he comes. 
 
 SCEN III 
 
 1 DBOMIO liERCUBIUS 
 
 (Dromio in habitu nautico, quo difficilius Tideri possit d socio 
 oognosci.) 
 
 D. Goe to Sea, quoth he! An ever I goe to sea againe lie 
 saie nothinge but let me be hang'd as sone as I come on 
 Land. Trust the water who will for all Dromio; an 
 they trust yt neuer soe longe I am sure of one thinge, 
 they shall finde yt but a ^slippery thinge in the ende. 
 Well, there was neuer man of my place, as yt were a kind 
 of Bassiter now from a generall, that skapet drown- 
 
 tPol. 9 a. 
 
{tl4 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 inge soe narrow! ie as I did. And yet now I am on lande 
 me-thinkes I could even all-most laugh at the fine sporte 
 the winde made with our shipp upon the water. We had lo 
 dauncinge, I'faith, our bellies full, some of us. I neuer 
 see the lyke without minstrells in my lief. They talke of 
 the backetricke: I'faith, our shipp fetcht the backe-tricke 
 backward and forward, to, I hope neuer to see the lyke 
 againe. The mayepole snikepace, otherwise called the 
 wheelinge galyard, was a thinge of nothinge, tryckes of 
 .15. or .16. score and upwarde, twoe or thre furlonge hie, but 
 a tryfle. And this was shire dauncinge, besides tumblinge 
 and other strange feates of Artillery. In the meane-time 
 we in the shippe practized the Amende leape from oneao 
 ende to the other. But I must needes confesse all did yt 
 not alyke, for some pytcht on their feete, some on their 
 handes, others of the better wyttes thought yt not amys to 
 light on theire heades, some on their backes, others on 
 their shoulders.* As for our sayles, poore sailes, they were 
 blowne in peices for all the world lyke wafer cakes. And 
 the maine maste snapt in twoe, (actione, hoc exprimat con- 
 traria, lignum aliquod aut simile tractans pro scirpo) as I would 
 snapp a rush. I'faith, I, and then blowne quite out of 
 sight; how sale you by that? For indeed yt was soe so 
 darke we could not see one another. Nay, and howe we 
 were cozened! I would not haue said once *God a marcy' 
 to him that would haue said to me, 'Dromio, what wilt 
 thou giue me if I will carry the quicke to heauen. ' Whie, 
 we were descended once so neare the verye skye, look ye, 
 or the ferment it-self, that if our shipp had had but hir 
 mast still, to haue made a whole there, lord, yt had bene 
 the easiest leape in the worlde. But see the deserte of 
 pride — pride will haue a fall, saith the poet. Soe had we. 
 We despised to heaven; what came on't? Marry, we40 
 came downe againe with a vengeance into such a horrible 
 untestable abominacion, fye on't, I am afraide to thinke 
 on't (mark how I quiuer yet, good people), such an uglie 
 black, bottomles hole that I wold willinglie haue growne 
 to exposicion with the devill and giuen the foule fien 
 my hinder quarters with all my hart, soe he would have 
 
 » The foUowlng addition is inserted in the margin at this point: ... and one 
 did, I take it, the Somersetshire trick fairly oner; but indeed he near cam back 
 againe. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 115 
 
 lefte me my head and my fore quarters still. But the 
 mortall gods did resigne me, though unworthie, no doubte, 
 to better misfortune. And what a comfort were yt to me 
 
 50 now to knowe that Sosia, that slaue, were sowst as well 
 as I. But me-thinkes this is a pestilent longe night ; a 
 man might haue bene hanged and drowned, to, this night, 
 and aliue and drye againe by the morninge. I doe not 
 Eemember that ever I sawe soe longe^ a night, but one 
 when I was once whipt all night : that night was indeed & 
 redd or twoe longer then this. What should a man sale 
 to yt? Are the 9 pianettes out of their waie, trowe wee? 
 Let me see; the 7 muses are iust in the same place still, 
 where they were at midnight, iust in the same place, I, 
 
 eo mary, are they. But what doe I forget all this while? I 
 am almost at home and yet I haue not pondered with my- 
 self, how, when I am come before my mistres, in most 
 unsemely manner, in f ewe wordes, to dylate my message 
 unto her. 
 M. lAside.] I will here him speake his mynde bycause I 
 haue no-thinge els to doe. Yet I meane to ease him of his 
 labor. 
 D. It were not amisse thus: I, thus, or thus for the most 
 parte. I, what and thus altogether? 
 
 "0 Madame, 7, Dromio, am the thrise welcome messenger of 
 
 my Lord and Maisters, your Lord and husbands, most out- 
 ragious victory, which was detayned, partly indeed by the 
 policy of the comon souldiers, but most specially by the wor- 
 thy induct of my Lord and Maister, your Lord a7id husband, 
 
 our most vincible gcnerall, who most valyantly and a 
 
 wisely, put to the sword hinge Perilous himself e tuithhis owne 
 hands. I meane, Madame, and the sword in them. I would 
 
 not haue yoio take me otherwise. After which most a 
 
 strange fact our Enymies were slaine, doe you marke, our foes 
 seduced, and our Aduersaries slautered, euery man, woman 
 and childe, and all the rest taken prisoners.'^ 
 M. [Aside.^ What, and all slaine to? That was hard 
 
 Justice. 
 D. This will serue passinge well, but litle will she thinke 
 when I can tell her thus much, but that I was as knuckle 
 
 tFol. 9 b. 
 
 * Written in bolder hand to indicate italics. 
 
 ao 
 
116 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 deepe in the accion as the rest, when god knowes I stood- 
 faire and farre of. 
 
 M. [Aside.] I, god is thy wytnes. 
 
 D. Where I spied that Coward Sosia lurkinge behind a moule 
 hill, that I was even ashamed to see him. Now if he hasw 
 not preuented mo I am a made man. And yet, saie he has : 
 alas, he comes in the plaine beaten highe-waie of after my 
 harty commendacions. But I haue here the verie signet, 
 with one of my maisters owne pretious stones, that cannot be 
 but welcome to my Mistris, besides a spetiall, most singiiler 
 message, that this hoope he sends as a signe of ^his spotted 
 faith; the gould should present his crowne of victorie. 
 
 M. [Aside.] This is iust quite contrarye. 
 
 D. Well, here is our house. But whoe is that before our dore 
 thus late in the night? He lay my lief tis Sosia, and he is loo 
 not yet gott in. 0, that I knewe that, how I should laugh 
 at him ! But, now I remember me. He put up my ringe, for 
 tis such a craftie Jacke that if he sett but his eye on't once, 
 he would haue it, he would haue yt, he, or he would cozen 
 me of finger and all. I will make as though I did not 
 inowe him. — What art thou, good fellowe, that art here 
 at this time of night? 
 
 M. What sawceboxe is he that askes me this question? 
 
 D. [Aside.] 'Sawcebox,' quoth he, at the first dash? By the 
 masse, I am vildly affraid I am in a wronge boxe. By the no 
 phrase, marke ye, this should not be he. Can a man tell 
 whether I had best proceed or noe? This night and if a 
 man shold chaunce to quarrell he might as sone strike, 
 doe you see, his freind as his foe. Well I am dessolued to 
 be ciuill for this once, what-soeuere come ont. — None but 
 a freind of yours. 
 
 M. Freind me no freindes. An he be his owne freind he 
 had best spend his time some- where els, and not trouble 
 me that haue other thinges to thinke on. 
 
 D. [Aside.] Tis he, I'faith; I knowe by that. There be 120 
 others have some thinge to thinke on to as well as he. 
 I see by this tyme how I shall put him downe to a-none.-^ 
 Your freind and fellowe, Sir, goe to. 
 
 M. My fellowe? 
 
 B. [Aside.] He is affraied of me alreadie: I see the slaue 
 tFoL 10 a. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 117 
 
 would not be knowne. — I, your fellowe, soe I sale, an your 
 name be Sosia ; I knowe you well enough. 
 
 M. Are you sure you knowe me? 
 
 D. lord, Sir, ys it not you that laye skulkinge behinde a 
 130 moule-hill all the time we were a-fighting? 
 
 M. [Aside,] He hould a wager tis Dromio. 'All the time 
 
 we were a-figh tinge,' quoth he. By that same token, 
 
 thou ranst awaie soe fast that thou lokedst but once 
 behinde the till the battell was done. I'faith, fellowe 
 Dromio, you are soe muffeld up I shold ^scarce haue knowne 
 you in the darke had not you discouered yourself. But 
 you are come in good tyme, for I haue bene a vilde* while 
 lokinge for you and after you. 
 
 D. For me? And whie for me? A man would thinke you 
 140 had some-what els to doe. 
 
 M. What, man? 
 
 D. To lyver a certeine message to my'lady Alcumena. 
 
 M. Why, man, that message was deliuered fine houres agoe at 
 least. And I haue bene with my lord since to desire a token 
 from him to my lady, for without, she will not beleiue 
 me. 
 
 D. Marry, I cannot blame her. She has reason, I thinke: 
 beleiue the, that saist thou hast bene here & there and there 
 and here againe, and all in fine houres ! What a monstrous 
 150 lye is that ! Fellowe Sosia, in f ewe wordes, I am ashamed 
 to heare the, but as concerninge foresaid token, sure some 
 rare token, may a man see yt? 
 
 M. Whie, I was tellinge of you, if you would haue let me gone 
 on; he badd me make hast to ouertake you, and take of you 
 a certeine ringe he gaue you to deliuer her. 
 (Subito^ animi constematio appareat in Dromione) 
 
 D. A ringe of me? You take a ringe of me? I shall never 
 digest yt. You take a halter ; I, take my lief first. What 
 should I doe then, can you tell? 
 
 M. You presentlie should retume, as I take yt, to haue cer- 
 180 teine prisonners Commytted to your charge. 
 
 D. I, lyke enough to be a Jailor; I am fitt for nothinge 
 els, I. If I haue the ringe now, I doe not finde in my-self 
 but that I shall kepe y t ; kepe you the prisoners an you 
 will ; I skome the trade, I. 
 
 tFol. 10 b. » Looks like "wilde " in MS. « Written "subita" in MS. 
 
118 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 M. Alas, fellowe Dromio, be not offended with me; I doe 
 but my masters message. 
 
 D. A ringe of me? God forgiue me, I shall neuer forgett 
 yt. I doe not thinke he knowes I haue a ringe for all 
 his sayinge, an he were well examyned. 
 
 M. Yes, and can tell you the markes of it to, or els let me i70 
 not haue it. 
 
 D. No, you shall not. He warrant you. But you can tell the 
 markes, you? He try that by and by. If yt haue a stone 
 now, as parenter I, parenter no, what manner of stone male 
 yt be? 
 
 M. Whie, a f aire pointed dyamond. 
 
 fl). A faire pointed dyamond! Ha, ha, he! 
 
 M. Whie, what aile you, man? 
 
 D. *A faire pointed dyamond'! Ha, ha, he! Nay, you are in 
 the right, you are in the right, you haue hit it ; ' a faire i80 
 pointed Diamond', quoth he ! But that I am angry with him 
 for lyinge, how Could I laugh at him! *A faire pointed 
 dyamond!' And first, tis an adamant, for soe my lord said 
 himself when he lyuered it to me. Or saie an adamant 
 and a Dyamond be all one, as I do not greatlie stand upon 
 that ; he sales tis faire, and the stone is a plaine bale or a 
 sheepes russett, which you will ; and he sales tis pointed, 
 and the deuill a pointe is there at yt. 
 
 M. Whie, thou mistakes me, man. Let me see it, and I will 
 shewe the how 1 meane. loo 
 
 D. It male be soe, but I doe not meane to let you see yt for 
 all that, unles you can tell me one thinge, bycause you saie 
 you were bidden to take yt. Tell me that, goe to and take 
 yt. [Aside.] He will as sone be hanged as he can tell yt. 
 
 M. Whats that? 
 
 D. The message that is to be liuered withall. 
 
 M. This is a strange thinge that we fellowes shold soe mis- 
 trust one another. 
 
 D. Nay, neare goe about to synuate by *we fellowes,' but tell 
 yt, and take yt. 200 
 
 M. An you will needes knowe, he badde me tell her the 
 hoope represented his garland of victorie, the gould his 
 spotles affeccion. 
 
 D. (dolenter & cum suspirio) I must needes confesse twas 
 tFol. 11 a. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 119 
 
 much theraboutes, and yet yt cannot sinke into my heade 
 
 that he could possiblie be there and heare, and heare and 
 
 there againe, in fine houres. "Well, since I haue giuen my 
 
 word, here take yt. I stand upon my worde, I tell you, 
 
 fellow Sosia. 
 210 M. I see you doe, and I commend you for yt. 
 
 D And to saie the truth, tis more to ones imputacion to 
 
 haue the custodie of prisoners, doe you see, then to lyver a 
 
 message that euery simple f ellowe can doe. Fellowe Sosia, 
 
 I giue you the ringe with all my harte. But doe you heare, 
 
 you are sure you were bidden to take yt? 
 M. Make you a question of yt? 
 fD. Noe, I do not neither; nay, take yt, I'faith, with all my 
 
 harte. But you saie you are sure my Lordes honours wour- 
 
 Bhips pleasure is it should be see? 
 220 M. I^ay, then. 
 
 D. Nay, I beleiue you. I speake not for that. I 'truth you 
 
 haue it with all my harte. 
 M. I knowe you haue. 
 D. I, indeed haue you, for you saie he badd you take yt ; but 
 
 thats all one. But for those same prisoners, can you tell 
 
 what men of qualitie are amonge them? 
 M. 0, great men, certeine. 
 D. I'faith? 
 
 M. I, I male tell you theres not one of them but since the 
 230 last kinges death is next to the crowne. 
 
 D. Awaye, awaye! Fellowe Sosia, that same ringe — 
 
 M. What of that? 
 
 D. I'faith, thou hast yt with all my harte. 
 
 M. I make no question on't. 
 
 D. But, sirra, euery one next the crowne? 
 
 M. Euery one. 
 
 D. rare! And they shall finde me as mylde and seveare a 
 
 Comaunder as they would wish. 
 M. I am assured of yt. 
 240 D. Well, fellowe Sosia, farewell; and thou knowest what I 
 
 saide? Withall my harte. 
 M. What needes that? I more then beleiue the. 
 D. Adiew, good fellowe Sosia. [Exit, 
 
 M. Adieu, good fellowe wood-cocke. Soe now we are on 
 tFol. lib. "~~~~~ 
 
120 THE BIRTHE OF HERCUL^ES 
 
 reare bord. Now this foole is but awaie to, here wilbe no 
 sturre a-none, for poore Amphitruo, what with his men and 
 what with his wief , never was vyctorious generall see wel- 
 comed home. But since yt soe falls out for my fathers 
 pleasure, he that can do all will in the ende make all 
 good, with a generall contentment, especyally to Amphitruo, 250 
 whome he will enrich for amendes with twoe worthie, but 
 one incomparable sonne, whoe shalbe named Hercules, 
 Both shalbe borne at a time, though they were not con- 
 ceiued at a tyme. But ^soe it is my fathers will to make 
 Alcumenas labour but single for a double birth. In the 
 meane-tyme must I goe on, as my duety is, to doe my father 
 seruice to the end. 
 
 ScEN nil 
 
 JUPITER ALCUMEN^A. MERCURIU8 
 
 (Remember That the cup be heere in readines.) 
 
 J. Fare-well, my best beloued Alcumena. I praie the look 
 
 well to thy-self ; thy time, thou seest, drawes on a-pace, and 
 
 that that god sendes us, sweet-harte, make much ont. 
 
 I must be gone. 
 A. Alas, my Lord, whats the reason of this, that you are 
 
 gone soe sone againe? 
 J. Not, my loue, that I am weary of thee, or of beinge at 
 
 home, but how can all doe well with soe greate an Army 
 
 when tis without a generall? 
 M. [Aside,] My father is excellent at this counterf eytinge ; 10 
 
 marke him, I praie you, how queintlie he comes in with 
 
 'Alcumena'. 
 A. I may see by this how litle you care for me. 
 J. It is enough if there be none under the sonne I care for 
 
 soe much. 
 A. I had rather see this then here of yt. Our bed is scarse 
 
 warme, yet twas midnight when you came, and you are 
 
 gone alreadie. I, could this be, if you loued me as you sale? 
 M. [Aside,] I thinke I had best stepp in and help my 
 
 tFol. 12 a. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 121 
 
 so father. — Madame, I doe not thinke, if I should be put to 
 
 swere, that euer man in this world loued woman soe well 
 
 as my master doth you. 
 J. Now, sir, who sent for you? You must be prating. 
 
 A. Good my Lord, I praie you doe not 
 
 J. Mumble, you had best. 
 
 M. [Aside.] I doe not lyke this begining half well. 
 
 J. But, my dearest Aleumena, what reason hast thou to be 
 
 angrie with me? Did I not steale this tyme from my whole 
 
 Army, to bestowe yt on the, that by my owne mouth thou 
 30 mightest first understand how all hath succeeded? Would 
 
 I haue done thus, thinkes thou, if I did not loue the? 
 M. [Aside.] Could a man deuise to flatter more coningly? 
 t J. Now I must needes priuilie Convey my-self backe againe, 
 
 as I stole awaie, that it be not knowne, which I would not 
 
 for any thinge. 
 A. I knowe not how you will goe. I am sure you make me 
 
 weepe to see you gone soe sone. 
 J. I pray the, be contente ; I will presently returne againe. 
 A. I, that 'presently' will be to longe. 
 40 J, Doest thou thinke yt pleases me to part from the, if I 
 
 could chuse? 
 A. No, yt is not lykely, when you goe awaie the same night 
 
 you came. 
 J. Whie doest thou hould me? I must needes be gone 
 
 before the dale appeare. In the meane-time, for a pawne 
 
 of my speedie returne, and a remembrance while I am 
 
 awaie, I will giue the the same cuppe kinge Pterelas himself 
 
 dranke in, whome I slewe. 
 (Cupp) 
 A. I had rather haue you stale. 
 50 J, Thou seest I cannot. — Sirra, bringe the cupp hither I 
 
 gaue you to keepe. 
 M. Here, Sir. 
 
 J. How now, Aleumena ; how lyke you this? 
 A. This is guift indeed lyke him that gaue yt. 
 M. Or rather, Madame, lyke her tis giuen unto. 
 J. Sirra, will you neuer hould your peace? 
 A. Good Amphitruo, be not angrie with Sosia, for my sake. 
 J. I am content for this once. 
 
r'?2 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 M. [Aside.] Lord, how fearse my father is growne with this 
 same loue. eo 
 
 J. Haste thou any-thinge now to comaunde me? 
 
 A. I would intreat you, Sir, to loue me still when you are 
 gone, though I be absent. 
 
 M. Sir, tis more then time we were gone, for dale begins to 
 peepe. 
 
 J. Goe you before, sir; He come after you. [Exit Mer- 
 
 cury.] — "What wilt thou els? 
 
 A. Nothinge but that you returne as sone as you can. 
 (Ilia dolenter incedit) 
 
 J. I warrant the I wilbe here eare thou lokest for me. 
 Farewell. [Exit Alcumena.] — Now, night, thou hast staled 70 
 my leasure this longe, I giue the leaue to giue place to dale, 
 and soe much as thou wert longer then thou shouldest be, 
 soe much shorter be the next dale that order may be kept 
 still. Now I foUowe Mercury. 
 
fACTUS SECUNDUS 
 
 SCEK I 
 ALCUMENA THE8SALA 
 
 A. They talk of pleasure, but the pleasure of a womans lief, 
 I am sure, is litle enough if yt be compared with her crosses. 
 The seueare stricktnes of our educacion, the bondage after, 
 if our husbandes be not better, the wrongfull suspicions 
 and accusations to, now and then we passe through in our 
 lief time, the paine we endure before we haue children, the 
 care after, the generall weaknes of our sexe, — these be ordi- 
 nary complaintes of all weomen. But there is one crosse 
 that mostely attendes, though not onely, upon us that are 
 
 10 '^ the greater, and it is the greater crosse, — the ordinarie 
 absence of our husbandes, which in the manner is dobled to. 
 For were they absent onely in ambassage, or as traueylers, 
 or as merchantes, yet they might leaue us hart-easinge 
 hope at home to accompanie us till their returne. But 
 beinge absent as souldiers they leaue us pale feare, a pas- 
 sion that we are lesse hable to endure then greif. They 
 might as well quite leaue us, for our greatest greif is to 
 feare, and tis feare thats death to us. If we be dead once 
 what can sorowe doe us harme? "VMiat saieth thou, Thes- 
 
 ao * sala, is not this true? I knowe thou louest not Sosia soe 
 litle but thou hast hadd a taste of eich of these since he 
 was last with the. 
 T. Indeed, Madame, I must needes confesse the truth, I 
 haue. And though we be not married together, I am sure 
 his absence, beinge in so daungerous an ymployment 
 especyallie, hath gone as nere my hart as if we had bene. 
 And if I durst, when your Ladiship has sighed some-times, 
 I could haue found in my harte to haue borne you companie. 
 0, there cannot be such a crosse in the world to a woman as 
 
 t Pol. 13 a. 
 
 123 
 
124 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 to parte from her husband. Whie, Mistres, he is the hns-ao' 
 band of her bosome ; when he is gone, alas, how can she 
 but be naked? He is her propp and uphoulder ; take him 
 awaie, she cannot chuse but fall. Besides, a souldier is to 
 his wief a sheild and a buckler to ; remoue him, and she 
 will lye open straight to all assaultes. 
 
 A. T'were pittybut thouhaddest a husband, Thessala; thou 
 couldest perswade him soe well to staie at home. 
 
 T. I, and t'were not for Sosia and my maister (I cry you 
 mercy, mistres) — my master and Sosia, I should haue 
 saide — I would not care if all these souldiers were hanged, 4a 
 to giue example *to others to keepe better at home with 
 their wiues. 
 
 A. That were to hard, Thessala; rather thou shouldest wish 
 them lamed, soe they should be sure to staie at home. 
 [Aside,] She makes me merry to heare hir how emest 
 she is, and yet I can not put awaie the thought of my 
 lordes so sodeine departure. — Thessala, goe you in; I will 
 foUowe you. [Bxit Thessala.] To staie but one poore 
 night! nay, had it bene all that, that were some-thinge. 
 But one peice of a night ! I, and that a litle peice to ! sa 
 [Wallcing tip and down.] Now am I more discontented 
 with his departure then me-thought I was ioyed with his 
 comeinge. Yet this, I must needes sale, comfortes me not 
 a litle — the honour my Lord hath gotten by his victorie. 
 To heare him soe well spoken of by every-bodie ! And if 
 we weomen loue honour soe well as men sale we doe, then 
 must this needs be pleasinge unto us, to heare them mag- 
 nified, whoe beinge parte of us, cannot chuse but part their 
 honours with us. Yet me-thinkes to, honour, to sale the 
 truth, is but a shadowe, and shadowes please children and ea 
 fooles indeed. But giue me the substance. The eye is the 
 truest harbinger of loue. I had rather see my Lord still, 
 I, then heare of him. But now I must be content; t'will 
 not be longe ere heretume; I, soe he said to please me. 
 Well, I see walkinge will not put out this melancholic out 
 of my heade. I will goe in and trye another while what 
 working can doe. 
 
 + F0I. 13 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 126 
 
 SCEK II 
 AMPHITRUO BOBIA 
 
 A. Come your waies after me. 
 
 S. I will follows you, Sir, I warrant you, hard at the heeles. 
 
 A. I doe not thinke there was ever yet such a villeyne hard 
 
 of as this. 
 S. Whie soe, Sir, I beseech you? 
 A. Whie, thou wouldest make me beleiue that, that neither 
 
 is, nor was, nor can be. 
 S. This is your ould wont not to beleue your poore serv- 
 
 auntes, speake they neuer soe truely. 
 10 A. Sirra, doe not iustifie this ; you had best an you doe. 
 S. Nay, the lawe is in your handes ; use me as you thinke 
 
 good. Yet you shall neuer make me affraied to tell you 
 
 what I see with these eyes, 
 f A. Why, thou shameles slaue, darest thou saie to me that 
 
 thou art now at home that art here? 
 S. Sir, I dare saie it, and will stand to it, that it is most true. 
 A. Doest thou longe for a beatinge? 
 S. For that as yt please you. Sir. I am yours, yet I must 
 
 not, nor will not, be affraied to speake the truth. 
 20 A. Doest thou but thinke what it is to floute thy maister? 
 
 Darest thou aflfirme to me soe certeinly that which yet 
 
 neuer man sawe, that one man should be in twoe places? 
 S. Sir, as I haue tould you, soe you shall finde yt. 
 A. What, that thou art here and there to, man? Wilt thou 
 
 stand to this? 
 S. And you proue me a Iyer, then speake your pleasure ; in 
 
 the meane-tyme, would you would not thinke of me other- 
 wise then I haue deserued. 
 A. Out of doubt this fellowe is drunke. 
 30 S. Would I were els for my owne sake. 
 A. Nay, then, I warrant the thou hast thie wish. 
 S. Haue I, Sir? 
 
 A. I, and you had best tell me, to, where you drunke last. 
 S. It may be you will not beleiue me, but He be sworne I 
 
 drunk not since I was last in your tent. 
 A. What might this meane? 
 
 + Fol. 14 a. 
 
126 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 S. Alas, Sir, I haue tould you often enough, and will tell 
 you againe, an yt will doe you anie good. I, Sosia, am now 
 at home, but I, the same, am here with you. This is plaine 
 enough, I thinke. 40 
 
 A. Well, I see then thou art madde * ; it is no more dealinge 
 with the. 
 
 S. Sir, I am well in my wytts, what-soeuer you thinke, and 
 knowe what I sale well enough. 
 
 A. Then shalt thou be hanged for lyinge. Tis a plaine 
 case : thou hast neclected to doe my commaundement, and 
 now thou thiakest to come & flapp me in the teeth with such 
 a lye. As thou doest me more wronge in thinkinge I will 
 beleiue yt then in bare tellinge of it to excuse thie-selfe, 
 confesse the truth, you had best. so 
 
 S. Can a poor servaunte endure greater misery then this, 
 when he tells the truth to be ouer-borne by forse? 
 
 t A. Whie, I praie the, come and reason the matter with me a 
 ly tie, if perchance thou hast any reason ; how doest thou 
 thinke yt can possiblie be that thou shouldest now be both 
 here and at home at the same time. 
 
 S. Tis enough, Sir, that I knowe 1 am both here and there. 
 And you may maruell as much as you will, and when you 
 haue done, you maruell not more then I maruell at it my- 
 self, eo 
 
 A. How? 
 
 S. Marry, I saie, I maruell at yt as much as you, for by this 
 good light I did [not?] at the first beleiue this Sosia my-self, 
 untill I my-self that am there did make me beleiue him, 
 he did soe perfytlie tell me what-soeuer was done here. 
 Besides he has my shape as well as my name. And, Sir, 
 proue that one dropp of milke be lyker an-other then he 
 and I are together, and take this head from my shoulders. 
 Whie, I will tell you — Sir, when you sent me from the 
 haven, would you thinke yt? to 
 
 A. What? 
 
 S. I was at home a great while before I came there. 
 
 A. Doest thou understand thy-self well what thou saiest? 
 
 S. Me-thinkes I speake soe plainlie, sir, that any man may 
 understand me. 
 
 A. [Aside.] I cannot tell what to make of this : some-times 
 
 » Written "made" in MS. t Fol. 14 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 127 
 
 me-thinkes he should be drunck, sometimes madd, or 
 perhapps he is bewitcht. — Hath not some unlucky hand 
 light upon the? 
 «o S. Yes, that there hath, a couple, on my word. For I was 
 neuer better beaten since my name was Sosia. 
 
 A. Who should beat the? 
 
 S. I, sir, that am at home beat my-self. 
 
 A. Can a man endure this any longer? Sirra, answere me a 
 question or twoe, and se you speake not a word but as I ask 
 you. First, this same Sosia you speak of, what should 
 he be? 
 
 S. He is your man. 
 
 A. My man, villeine? Whie I haue to many of the name by 
 90 the alreadie, and but the I had neuer any in my lief. 
 
 S. Well, this Sosia is your man, and soe you shall finde him 
 when you come home. I, he is Dauus his sonne ; he has 
 my face ; he is of my yeares. In a word. Sir, your Sosia is 
 no longer a single but a double Sosia. 
 
 A. Thou tellst me strange thinges ; but didst thou se my wief ? 
 
 S. How could I see hir when I could not be suffred to come 
 in? 
 
 t A. Whoe let the? 
 
 S. That same Sosia I tould you of. 
 100 A. What Sosia, man? 
 
 S. I, my-self, Sir; how often shall I tell you? I would 
 haue beleiued you in half this time. 
 
 A. Tell me, didst thou not sleepe latelie? 
 
 S. Not I, Sir. 
 
 A Art thou sure ont? Perhaps in a dreame thou mightest 
 see all this. 
 
 S. Tis not my wont. Sir, soe sleepilie to doe your busines. 
 I tell you I was watchinge when I see him, and he was 
 watchinge when he watcht me a good time, and beat me 
 no almost asleep for watchinge soe late. 
 
 A. Whoe beate the? 
 
 S. Nay, then, we shall neuer have done. In fewe wordes, 
 Sir, I beat my-self ; doe you not yet understand me? 
 
 A. Understand the? Who could understand such a madd 
 f oole as thou art, that talkest thus Idlely of thinges impos- 
 sible? 
 
 tPol.l5a. 
 
128 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 S. Be content a while, Sir, and you shall see how impossible 
 
 they bee. 
 A. What shall I see? 
 
 S. The fore-said Sosia, your man. 120 
 
 A. "Well, come your waies after me. You haue brought that 
 
 I badd you out of the ship? 
 S. I haue yt here readie for you. Sir. 
 A We shall see anone, I hope, what this geare will come to» 
 
 
 SCEN III 
 
 
 ALCUMBNA 
 
 
 AMPHITRUO 
 
 SOSIA 
 
 
 THE8SALA 
 
 (Remember That the casket be in readines.) 
 
 Al. [Aside.] This workinge makes me thinke of Penelope, 
 how prettie a deuice she found, good Lady, to preserve her- 
 self against soe manie temptations, in soe longe absence of 
 her beloued Vlisses. No doubt she wrought lyke a work- 
 woman haveinge accustomed her hand to it. I make wise 
 worke, now my mynde is of another matter. 
 
 f Am. It ioyes me to thinke how kinde a welcome I shall haue 
 of my f aire and lovinge Alcumena after my longe absence : 
 poore soule, I dare sale she has thought it longe. But the 
 good successe I bringe with me, and the honour of my vie- 10 
 tory, that shall plead my excuse. 
 
 S. I hope we shall finde them will bidd us welcome to. 
 
 Al. [Aside.] Is not yon my husband? 
 
 Am. Sirra, se you followe me. 
 
 S. I doe not meane, Sir, to goe before you. 
 
 Al. [Aside.] What might the cause be of his soe suddeine 
 returne? I hope he doth yt but to trie me, how much I 
 desire his presence. And well may he think he shalbe 
 welcome. 
 
 S. Sir, I thinke yt were even best for us to goe backesa 
 againe to our shipp. 
 
 Am. And whie soe, Sir? 
 
 S. For we are lyke to haue no dynner here : I see my ladies 
 belly yonder is full alreadie. 
 
 tFol. 15 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 12& 
 
 Am. Indeed yt should be soe, for I lefte her quicke when I 
 
 went last from heuce. 
 Al. [Aside.] It is my duety to goe towardes him. 
 Am. Amphitruo salutes his welbeloued wief, li'home all 
 
 Thebes reporte of for her vertue. What sales Alcumena? 
 30 Am I welcome? 
 Al, I hope, Sir, you make no doubt of your welcome, though 
 
 you please to aske me the question. 
 Am. It doth me good to see this faire bellie soe well risen, 
 
 since I see the last. 
 Al. It semes, my Lord, you are disposed to be merry; and 
 
 ys it soe longe, I praie you, since you see me laste? 
 Am. Ever since I set forth out of Thebes with our Army, tis 
 
 soe longe. 
 Al. Whie sale you soe. Sir? 
 40 Am. Bycause I haue learned of a boye to speake truth, wief; 
 
 wouldest thou haue me tell a lye? 
 Al. Sir, you doe well to keep that lesson still. But would I 
 
 might be soe bould as to ask you in ernest what makes you 
 
 returne soe speedie; you tould me, but even now, you must 
 
 in all hast be gonne back to your Armye. 
 Am. How, even now? 
 f Al. Doe you this to try me? Even very now, but a while 
 
 since. 
 Am. How doest thou meane *but a while since?' 
 so Al. Sir, though it please you to make me your playe-f ellowe at 
 
 other tymes, I am now in good ernest. And doe you make 
 
 strange of yt, that I sale you went but euen now from 
 
 hence? 
 Am. Out of doubtt this woman dotes. 
 S. 0, tis nothiuge, Sir but want of sleepe in impatience for 
 
 your absence ; stale but till she hath slept a litle, and He 
 
 warrant you she wilbe better come to her-self . 
 Al. Truely, I thank the godes I need no sleepe, but am well 
 
 aduised what I sale, and well knowe that both he and you 
 CO were here with me this night, and gone againe by breake of 
 
 dale. 
 Am. In what place? 
 
 Al. Here in your house where you dwell. 
 Am. Doe not sale soe, for we were neuer here. 
 
 +Fol. 16 a. 
 
130 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 S. 0, Sir, you male be deceiued. What if our shipp brought 
 
 us hither asleepe and we neuer knewe of yt? 
 Am. Must you helpe the matter to? 
 S. [Aside.] I helpe her, quoth he. I'faith, tis but in 
 
 charytie. She is madd alreadie, and doe but crosse her a 
 
 lytle it is the next waie to put her quite out of her witts. to 
 Am. [Aside.] I cannot take this in good parte, that 
 
 returninge but now where I expected soe much kindnes 
 
 after soe longe absence, she would not soe much as salute 
 
 me. — Wief, I praie the, tell me one thinge. 
 Al. What, Sir, I praie you? 
 
 Am. Is it pride — this in you, or extremitie of folly? 
 Al. What meane you to aske me this, Sir? 
 Am. Bycause you were wonte ever when I hadd bene 
 
 abroade, kindelie to welcome me at my comeinge home ; 
 
 me-thinkes that fashion is quite forgotten now. w 
 
 Al. I am sure. Sir, I did salute you at your firste Comeinge as 
 
 kindely as I could. 
 S. Did you salute him, Madame? When, I praie you? 
 Al. I, and you to, Sosia; tis not soe longe since that you 
 
 should forgett yt. 
 f S. Well, master, I am sory for nothinge but for your Childe 
 
 there. 
 Am. Whie for my Childe, man? 
 
 S. Twill proue a madd childe, and 'take after the mother. 
 Al. Whats that, sir, that you sale? 'After the mother?' m 
 S. Nothinge, I, Madame, but that I wish your childe may 
 
 no[t] take after the mother. 
 Al. And whie not after the mother^ 
 S. 0, madame, bycause my Lord hath soe often wisht for a 
 
 boye; yt should be a girle an it should take after you. 
 Am. Sirra, hould your pratinge. Tell me, wief, are you sure 
 
 you see me here yesternight? 
 Al. Sir, I did, and marvell much whie you should soe often 
 
 aske me the question. 
 Am. In your dreame, perhapps. loo 
 
 Al. Even as broade awake as I see you now. 
 Am. Alas, what shall I doe? 
 S. Whie, what ails you, Sir? 
 Am. My wief, questionles, is madd. 
 
 tFoLlCb. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 131 
 
 S. Doe but let her bloud a litle in the braine, and, of my 
 
 worde, she wilbe sober straight. 
 Am. Woman, tell me where didst thou feele this humor first 
 
 seaze upon the? 
 Al. I cannot tell what humor you meane. I am sure I never 
 110 found my-self better then at this present, savinge my greif 
 
 to finde soe strange usage at your handes, where I haue 
 
 litle deserued yt. 
 Am. What shall I saie? I am angrie to heare her talke, and 
 
 yet yt greues me to see her weepe. 
 S. 0, let her weepe, Master. This is the lettinge of her 
 
 braine bludd ; tis the onely waie to make her come to her- 
 self againe. 
 Am. Well, weepe or weepe not. I must enquire further into 
 
 this matter, thats certeine. Can you saie that I was here 
 MO yesternight that came but this night into the haven, where 
 
 I supt, where I slept all night, and set not foot on shore 
 
 till this morninge? 
 Al. I saie you supt and slept with me to-night. 
 Am. Nay, then, let that be true yet that I supt with the, but 
 
 for the loue of god, doe not saie I slept with the. 
 Al. Yes, but soe sone as it was dale you returned backe to 
 
 your Army Againe. 
 fS. Just this is the first parte of her dreame. — Madam, 
 
 I'faith, when you awaked did you not thanke god for your 
 180 sweet dreame? 
 
 Al. I hope though it please my Lord to use me as he thinkes 
 
 good, he will not allow you, sirra, to controule me. I haue 
 
 sene him angrie with you in my time for a lesse matter 
 
 then this. 
 Am. Sir, an I bidd you hould your peace againe — Say you 
 
 that I did goe awaie from you this morninge? 
 Al. I, and before your goeinge tould me your-self the whole 
 
 manner of your victorie. 
 Am. Are you sure you knowe yt? 
 140 Al. If it be as you tould me, I am sure. 
 
 Am. As howe? Let us heare some parte of yt. 
 
 Al. First, how you put them to flight, and in the execucion 
 
 kild the kinge your-self, and after tooke them that 
 
 remained aliue, to mercy. 
 
 + Fol. 17 a. 
 
132 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Am. Did I tell you this? 
 
 Al. Sir, you did : how should I knowe it els? Besides he was 
 
 by when you tould me it. 
 Am. How sale you, Sir ; did you here me tell her this? 
 S. Where should I heare you tell it? 
 
 Am. Nay, aske her. iso 
 
 S. I will not flatly deny yt, bycause she hath said yt, but if 
 
 it were soe tis more then I can Remember. 
 Al. Indeed yt were a mervell if he would sale any-thinge to 
 
 crosse you. 
 Am. Sirra, looke hither ; looke me full in the face. 
 S. I thinke this is full, Sir. 
 Am. Sir, leaue your knavery, you had best, and tell me truely ; 
 
 neuer speake to please me: did I, in your hearinge, tell 
 
 any of these thinges to your Mistris? 
 S. Sir, I praie you, are you in as good case as she, that youiflo 
 
 aske me this question? 
 Am. Sirra, tell me directlie, without more adoe, did I or no? 
 
 (Minanter offerendo alapam) 
 S. Noe, Sir, no, not I. 'I hard you,' quoth he? Nor any 
 
 bodie els thats wise, I thinke. 
 Am. Doe you heare what he sales? 
 Al. I heare him well. 
 
 Am. And will you neither beleiue him nor me? 
 f Al. Saveinge my duetie to you. Sir, I will beleiue none before 
 
 my owne eyes. 
 Am. Doe you sale still that I came hither yester-night? i70 
 
 Al. Doe you still deny, Sir, that you went from hence this 
 
 morninge? 
 Am. I sale, and swere yt to, by the kinge of heauen ; this is 
 
 the first hour of my arryvall here since I went from hence 
 
 with our Army. 
 Al. And will you denye to, what you lefte me for a remem- 
 brance at your partinge? 
 Am. What was that? 
 Al. A standinge Cupp of gould, which, as you said, was giuen 
 
 you for a present. i8o 
 
 Am. I neyther gaue you one, nor ever said soe much to you that 
 
 I would. Indeed it hath bene my purpose to giiie you such 
 
 a one. But who tould you thus much? lie laie my lief 
 
 tFol. 17 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 133 
 
 Dromio hath bene with you, for I sent him out time enough 
 
 to haue bene here by this time, and I neare see him since. 
 S. He warrant you. Sir, tis none but he that hath plaide the 
 
 knaue with you in all this. [Aside.] I think I haue spoken 
 
 for him. 
 Al. I knowe not when you sent him, but I am sure I see him 
 190 not yet. And if he had bene here, you knowe best whither 
 
 he could giue me the cupp or no. 
 Am. Staie a litle, for gods loue. Thys makes me wonder yet 
 
 of all the rest, unles you, Sirra, haue plaied the villaine 
 
 with me, and priuilie acquainted her with this before my 
 
 comeinge, and then come and tell me I cannot tell what 
 
 deuises of your owne. 
 S. Nay, an eare you proue that, Sir, you said you would 
 
 hange me before, then let me be quartered to. 
 Am. What shall I saie to this? 
 aoo Al. Shall I cause my woman to fetch yt? 
 (Casket.) 
 Am. Let me see yt. 
 Al. You shall, Sir.— Thessala! 
 T. Whats your will, Madame? 
 Al. Bringe me the cupp hither I tould you my Lord gaue me 
 
 at his goeinge awaie. Whie doe you not make more hast? 
 
 Bid Ragazzo come, to. 
 
 (Hie signis agunt mutuis inter se, Sosia & Thessala.) 
 T. Presentlie, Madame. [Exif. 
 
 Am. Come hither, you. Where is your minde. Sir? Whie, this 
 
 would make me wonder of all the rest, if she should chance 
 210 to haue this cupp. 
 
 fS. Lord, will you beleiue that, when you knowe tis here fast 
 
 under locke and key, and under your owne scale? 
 Am. Let me see; is the seale whole? 
 S. Looke, I praie you. Sir, that you may be sure. 
 T. [Ee-e7iter TliessalaJ] Here yt is, madame. 
 S. Howe now? 
 
 Al. Now, sir, see your-self whither this be it or noe 
 Am. heauens, what doe I see? Tis the verie same. 
 S. Well, I am sure of one thinge : either she is a witch, or 
 830 els the cupp must be here still in the Caskett. 
 Am. Goe to; let us see; open yt quicklie. 
 
 tFol. 18 a. 
 
134 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 S. You can beare me wytnes, Sir, the seale is whole. 
 Am. Very well, Sir. 
 
 (Haec inter aperiendum ^ 
 S. This is fine sporte. I haue found another Sosia; my 
 
 maister he heares of another Amphitruo; and there be 
 
 another cupp here to, I'faith then we are all dubled. 
 
 Jupiter, Jupiter! 
 Am. Whats the matter? 
 
 S. 0, Jupiter, Jupiter, not a peice of a cupp is there here. 
 Am. But you had best, Sir, finde me a cupp there. 28o 
 
 Al. Whie, you see tis heare. 
 Am. But how came you by it, then? 
 Al. Euen by him that askes me the question. 
 S. I' faith, master, I beleiue you are disposed to plaie the 
 
 noble man with me : you haue bene here before me, and 
 
 taken yt out your-self , and sealed up the casket againe, and 
 
 now you aske me whats become of yt. 
 Am. Villeine, doest thou helpe her forward to in her frensie? 
 
 Doe you saie still that I was here yesternight? 
 Al. I saie you were here. mo 
 
 S. And how did you interteine him then? 
 Am. Indeed that were a question. 
 Al, But sone answered: How should a wief interteine her 
 
 husband? When you came in first I gaue yow a kysse. 
 Am. Beshrowe me, I lyke not this beginninge ; but goe on, I 
 
 praie you. 
 f Al. Then you washt. 
 Am. What then? 
 Al. You satt downe to supper. 
 
 Am. And what after supper? 25o 
 
 S. I, maister, aske hir forwarde; you shall haue good stuff 
 
 anone, I warrant you. 
 Am. Sir, doe not you interrupt us. 
 Al. After supper, you found your-self some-thinge weary, and 
 
 you went to bedd. 
 S. I thinke she will come neare you anone. 
 Am. Where laye you ? 
 
 Al. Where should I lye, but in the same bedd with you? 
 Ann . In the same bedd? Thou undoest me if thou saiest soe. 
 S. Alas, Sir, what ayle you? aeo 
 
 * Written "aperiundiun" in text. + Fol. 18 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 135 
 
 Am. She hath wounded me ; she hath stabbed me to the hart. 
 
 Al. Whie are you thus out of order, Sir? You make me at my 
 wyttes end. 
 
 S. [Aside.] Thats a small matter; they were at an end a 
 good while agoe. 
 
 Am. What doe I reckon of my honour gotten abroade, when 
 my honour at home is stained, my bedd defiled? 
 
 Al. Alas, my Lo, whie shold you use these wordes to me? 
 
 Am. Awaiefromme! I, your Lord? Thou shameles woman ^ 
 270 doest thou not blush to calFme soe? 
 
 Al. Sir, lytle haue I deserued these reproaches at your 
 handes. The Godds knowe how wrongfully you accuse me, 
 and I hope they will doe me right. 
 
 Am. 0, immortall Godds, what may this meane? I pray the, 
 Sosia, art thou sure thou knowest me? 
 
 S. I think I had best looke well upon you, to be sure. 
 I, you are my maister Amphitruo sure, as I take yt. 
 
 Am. Did I supp in the shipp yesternight, or did I not? 
 
 S. Surely you did, or one very lyke you. But a man can 
 280 hardly tell what to sale of truth as now the world goes. 
 I haue found another Sosia; belyke here is another Amphit- 
 ruo. Which of you supt there I cannot tell ; I am sure 
 one of you did. 
 
 Am. My bedd dishonored ! 
 
 Al. (Lachrymanter) Then let the unspotted Diana plague 
 me for my disloyaltie, if euer man but Amphitruo came in 
 my bedd. 
 
 f Am. Would yt were true ! 
 
 Al. Tis true, my Lord ; will you not take myne othe? 
 290 Am. Tut, you are a woman; you will sweare bouldlie enough. 
 Well, I am soe distraught with this that I scarce knowe my- 
 self. 
 
 S. I warrant you, Sir, you are Amphitruo yet, or one of them 
 at least ; and you loose not your-self , good enough. 
 
 Am. Neuer weep, woman ; thats no amendes for such a fault 
 as this. What doe you saie if I goe backe to the ship, 
 and bringe hither your Cousin Naucrates, that was [t]here 
 with me, to disproue all you haue said to your face? Doe 
 I wronge you then if I put you from me? 
 800 Al. If I be found false I am Contented. 
 
 tFol. 19 a. 
 
136 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 Am. Then we are agreed. Sirra, stale you here still ; I will 
 my-self goe backe and fetch Naucrates. He trust no-bodie. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 S. Madame, an you be a good ladie, now tell me one thinge, 
 an there be not another Sosia now within besides me. 
 
 Al. Sir, you will never leaue your Jybinge. 
 
 S. Nay, an you be angrie, I am gone, and soe I hope is my 
 fellowe Sosia to, or els I would not goe in to-daie. [Exit, 
 
 Al. (Post Pausam) This is strange to me, that haue lined 
 thus longe untainted in the opinion of the worlde, now 
 to be challenged by my Lord and husband. The goddes, 310 
 I trust, that are wytnesses of myne Innocency, will deliuer 
 me out of this distresse. It cannot be other-wise. I 
 knowe my cousin Naucrates is honorable and loues me. 
 He must needs be wytnes of my side. 
 
ACTUS TERTIUS 
 
 SCEN I 
 
 JUPITER SOLUS 
 
 I am that Amphitruo who ame Jupiter when I liste, and 
 my man is eyther Sosia or Mercury, as I will. I am now 
 stollen from Juno, and come downe hither againe, ^seinge 
 the conflicte betwixt poore Alcumena and her husband, to 
 helpe the weaker — indeed to ease the Innocent of the 
 burthen of my faulte. This seconde comeinge 'of myne in 
 Amphitruo his lykenes will breed yet a litle more confusion, 
 which I doe to please my-self. But I will make all good 
 in the ende when the truth shalbe knowne. And Alcu- 
 10 mena for her Recompense shall without paine be deliuered of 
 twoe braue boyes, the one begotten by her husband, the 
 other by me. But here she comes, — iust in the humor of a 
 woman in these cases, for her husband lefte her in greif, 
 but her greif by this time is turned into Choler. But I, 
 that haue pacified Juno, the angrie Queene of heauen, soe 
 often, doubt not but I shall pacyfie her againe well 
 enoughe. 
 
 SCEN II 
 ALCUMENA JUPITER 
 
 I cannot haue patience to staie longer in my house, when 
 I thinke how Iniuriouslie I haue bene handled by my hus- 
 band. Haue I lined with him thus longe in the reputacion 
 of a true wief to be now accused of shame and dishonor; 
 to be used lyk a lunatyke woman, as if I were besides my 
 self? That that he did, he denyes, and afl&rmes yt to my 
 face that neuer was done; yet he thinkes I will endure all 
 
 tFol. 19 b. 
 
 137 
 
138 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 this. But lie is deceaued. Indeed such was my loue unto 
 him as no meane wronge could haue preueyled against yl. 
 But myne honor is more pretious to me then my lief. It lo 
 would trie a kinde wief to haue her bloud attempted by 
 her husband. I had rather he had done soe then as he 
 has done; therefore he hadd not need to threaten to put 
 me awaie, for I meane not to staye with him, unles he make 
 the better satisfacion. 
 
 J. [Aside.'] That that she meanes to put Amphitruo to, 
 that, I see, must I faine to doe, if I meane to get any 
 fauor at her handes at this tyme. And since my love hath 
 bene the cause of her wronge, I must doe my-self iustice, 
 and be contente to beare the brunte of her revenge. 20 
 
 Al. Se where he comes, the most Iniuryous lord aliue to his 
 true wief. 
 
 J. How now, ladie? What tume you awaie from me? 
 
 A. It is the nature of us women not willinglie to looke upon 
 our Enymies. 
 
 J. What, open warre, ladye? Plaine Enymies? 
 
 f A. I would you would let me alone, sir. Methinkes a man of 
 your worth should not abase himself to medle with soe vilde 
 and dishonest a woman as I am. 
 
 J. Nay, then I see you can be angrie, ladie ; I would not so 
 haue thought yt possible. 
 
 A. Twere much I should be well pleased to be toucht in 
 that is dearer to me then my lief. 
 
 J. Whie, beleiue me, woman, I spake not as I thought ; I 
 did but this to trie the. 
 
 A. If I had ever giuen you cause to mistrust me, yet a 
 gentler trial than this might have serued. 
 
 J. But I knowe the soe kinde as noe small matter would 
 haue moued thy patience : now I see thou takest it so euill, 
 trust me, ladie, I am sorry I began. Wilt_thou f orgiue me? 40 
 
 A. I knowe you set much by my forgiuenes. I expected you 
 should bringe my cosen Naucrates with you, but he is no 
 such man as so easilie to be brought to wronge an Innocent. 
 
 J. Whie, I praie the, good Alcumena, beleiue me, I was 
 but in iest all this while. Sosia can beare me wytnes. 
 
 A. I know not how you were. Sir. I am sure yt proued emest 
 to me, for yt has gone as neare me as my harte. 
 
 tFoL20a. 
 
( UNIVERSITY j 
 THE BIOTBi£iafJ^iSfet!!ULES 139 
 
 J. Sweet Alcumena, if euer thou didst loue me, forgiue me 
 but this once. 
 80 A, Sir, if it please you to giue me that which is myne, here- 
 after, if I be false, you shalbe sure I shall not be false to 
 you. Or if not, if you will but allowe me one to attend me 
 home to my fathers house — or if you will not, yet I hope to 
 goe accompanied with my honor in spight of them that 
 would take yt from me. 
 
 J. Nay, Alcumena, stale a litle ; let us haue a worde yet ere 
 
 we part, if there be no other remedie. And tell me this, 
 
 I' faith, in equity, if the first fault euer I committed against 
 
 the in my lief can deserue soe hard iustice as straight to be 
 
 60 forsaken? 
 
 A. I knowe I cannot please you better; tis that you haue 
 sought. Now you shall haue your desire. 
 
 J. Nay, then, let Jupiter hate me for euer, if yt be not soe 
 farre from my desire that it would greiue me to the harte. 
 
 f A. Let Jupiter be your freind, I beseech him, whatsoeuer 
 become of me. 
 
 J. Well, Ladye, this is once; you sale you will be gone; 
 theres no stayinge of you. Then will I to sea out of 
 hand. Farewell, Thebes. I hope to^ see heauen ere I see 
 70 the againe, after I am gone once. 
 
 A. The goddes forbidd that for my sake you should wronge 
 your Countrie soe much. 
 
 J. Noe, noe, I see tis your desire it should be soe. I could 
 but once iest in my lief, and to be taken then at the hard- 
 est ! Well, lady, since I see your hart is soe hardened against 
 me that you purpose to leaue me, I will begin first. And 
 for a proof I mistrusted you not, I leaue you what I haue. 
 lie to my shipp and see her furnisht, and then I am gone. 
 
 A. [Aside.] Alas, I see he will be gone indeed if I stale 
 80 him not. — My Lord, good my Lord, beare with a womans 
 weaknes. I knowe you were but in iest with me ; I make 
 no doubt of yt. 
 
 J. Nay, I am indifferent now, thinke what yon will. 
 
 A. Indeed, my Lord, I will neuer be angrie with yow againe. 
 
 J. Doest thou forgiue me then? 
 
 A. Doe you make a question of yt? 
 
 J. How shall I knowe thou doest? 
 
140 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 A. Harke, and I will tell yow. [ WJiispers to Mm.'\ 
 
 J. May I beleiue the? 
 
 A. I hope you will, Sir. 9o 
 
 J. Not unles you tell me againe. [Alcumena whispers 
 again.] Now I beleiue the, and am gladd, Ladye, we are 
 become soe good freindes againe. I sweare yt shalbe the 
 last tyme of our fallinge out. — What, Sosia! — I will send 
 him to Blepharo my shipmaister to bidd hym come to 
 dynner to me. [Aside.] But I meane to haue some 
 sport with him and Amphitruo to, yet ere I dyne. 
 
 A. [Aside.] I maruell whats that he talkes alone to him-self . 
 
 J. What, Sosia, I saie! 
 
 tScEN III 
 
 SOSIA JUPITER ALCUMENA 
 
 S. Here, Sir, here; you tooke me even in my caste. Sir. 
 
 A litle more I hadd slaked my thirst pretilie well. * 
 J. . Sirra, doe you heare? 
 
 (Videt nempe prendentes invicem manus) 
 S. I, sir, I. lord, are you twoe freindes againe? Truely 
 
 I am gladd to see yt. I thinke you were but in iest all that 
 
 while, for if you hadd bene in ernest you could not, I thinke, 
 
 haue bene freindes by this tyme. 
 J. Did not I saie that Sosia could beare me wytnes I did but 
 
 iest with the? 
 A. Sir, I beleiue it ; what needes more of yt? But, Sirra, lo- 
 
 how chance you were soe sawcye? Could not your maister 
 
 iest but you must iest to? 
 S. Lord, madame, the onelie iestinge in the world is to 
 
 iest with good companie; my maister should haue had 
 
 sporte alone els. 
 A. And was not your maister, thinke you, oddes enough for 
 
 me, but you must be twoe to one? 
 S. Why, Madame, and all lytle enoughe, for one woman is 
 
 hable to take downe a great many men. I hope you will ^ 
 
 pardon me, Madame, for my bouldnes. 2a 
 
 t Fol. 21 a. 
 
 » Altered in MS. from: "I think I haue slaked my thirst pretUie well since I 
 went in." 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 141 
 
 A. Well, Sosia, well, now my lord and I are freindes take 
 heed I helpe you not to a beatinge one of these daies, an 
 you leaue not your knauery. 
 
 J. Sirra, soe yt is. I haue a matter of Religion to performe^ 
 a certeine vowe I made to Jupiter before my vyctorie. 
 
 S. Soe, sir. 
 
 J. I would haue you goe fetch hither from the shipp 
 Blepharo, my ship-maister, that, after the solempnitie done, 
 he and I may dyne together. 
 30 S. He be there and here againe with a tryce, sir. 
 
 J. See you bee. [Exit SosiaJ] 
 
 A. In the meanetime, if you please, I will goe in and com- 
 maund the vessells you are to use to be in a readynes. 
 — Ragazzo, where are you? 
 
 J. I praie the, goe, and thou shalt make me beholding to 
 the. [Exit Alcumena.] Thus liaue I deceaued both the 
 mistres & the man together. But a good end shall make »• 
 mendes for all. Now, as I am sacrifysinge, will Amphit- 
 ruo returne home from seekinge of Naucrates, whome he 
 40 cannot finde. But I will haue Mercury keepe him out 
 from comeinge ^in here, by his leaue, yet, whome he will 
 take for his man Sosia, and to make up the matter there 
 will be Dromio, his other man, to helpe to keepe out his 
 owne maister to. And Dromio is comeinge here : as sone aa 
 he sees me he will make noe question but I am his maister, 
 and soe I am like to be troubled with him. For he 
 comes full in a conceyt to haue at my handes a charge of 
 certeine prisonners comytted to him, as my Mercury made 
 him beleiue, when he gott his ringe from him. And 
 prisoners here are none this* once ; therefore I must salue 
 up the matter as well as I can for the present, that we may 
 not want his companie anone in helpinge to keepe his right 
 maister out of dores. And here he is. 
 
 ScEN nil 
 
 DROMIO JUPITEE 
 
 D. [Solus.] And they should be unruly now, as these 
 younge nobles are wagges, I would indeed speake some- 
 
 t Fol. 21 b. » Written " y""' in MS. 
 
 50 
 
142 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 thinge bigge to them, as, *My honorable subiectes, I must 
 not haue you doe soe. ' But I doe not depute yt best to 
 smyte them at any hand.^ Soe if one of them should 
 chance to come to the crowne afterward, and I come in his 
 fingers, he might make me hopp without my crowne and 
 my head to. No, He none of that, but an they be my 
 faithfull prisoners He be their most duetif uU gouemour. 
 I 'faith what a credytt it wilbe as I walke in the street lo 
 now, to here the voice of the comon people: * There 
 goes Monsier le gouemour,' saith one. 'There goes his 
 wourship,' saith another. For indeed the base name of a 
 Jailor is fytt for such as keepe theiues, not for him that 
 hath true nobilitie in his keepinge. But yonder I haue 
 spied my master, Amphitruo, whome I haue bene seek- 
 inge of soe longe. A man would thinke, that seeth him, 
 he is not soe litle but that he might haue bene found by 
 this time. Truely I cannot tell with what face to looke 
 upon him, I am soe bashful!, now I am towardes this same 20 
 preferment. And indeed shamelesnes in an officer is a 
 notorious thinge. Well, I will sett before the best face I 
 haue. — Lord, Sir, I haue bene to seeke you, I think all the 
 world ouer. [Aside.] I Moe not thinke when I am in 
 place once it wilbe fytt for me to stande with my hatt of, 
 any longer. 
 
 J. And where hast thou bene seekinge of me? 
 
 D. Marry, there and here, and here and there, & there and 
 here againe ; in twoe wordes, where not, sir? 
 
 J. I can tell the in fine: not there where I was, for thenao 
 thou hadest found me. 
 
 D. "They be iust fine indeed, (numerat in digitos dum ille 
 loquitur). I praie you what was yt you said. Sir? 
 
 J. Must I tell you twise? I sale you sought me not where 
 I was, for then you had found me. 
 
 D. Thats true indeed. Sir. Soe a man may saie, an he had 
 knowne that, he had neare sought for you. But I was 
 vildlie affraid if I had not at last founde you by lande I 
 should haue bene put to haue sought you by water. 
 
 J. And whie wert thou affraide of that? 40 
 
 » Altered from: " with my hand." t Fol. 22 a. 
 
 » " Let me see: | not | there | where 1 1 1 was | for | then | thou | hadest | found | 
 me. I " CJrossed out in MS. at beginning of Dromio's speech. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 143 
 
 D. You would not aske me the question and you knew as 
 much as I knowe. Whie, I tell you, Sir, he that hath bene 
 condempned, brought to the place of persecution, had the 
 hangman by the hande, the halter about his neck, made 
 his profession, songe 'god blesse us,* the eleuen and fyftie 
 psalme, said 'Good people praie for me,' nay, had one 
 legge alreadie of of the ladder, and was then saued, neuer 
 scapet hanginge nearer then I scapet drowninge. 
 (Omnia haec singillatim agi oportet) 
 J. I am gladd ont, Dromio. 
 50 D. What, that I was almost drowned. Sir? 
 J. Noe, I mean that thou escapest, man. 
 D. Thats a-nother matter, indeed. 
 J. And by what tyme came you to your mistres, then? 
 D. Tyme enough for any-thinge I saide to her. 
 J. Whie, spake you not wyth her? 
 D. No, nor she with me neyther. 
 J. Wheres my ringe then? 
 
 D. As though you knewe not! 1st you are in iest. Sir? 
 J. What doe you meane by that? 
 «o fD. I meane you are not in emest, sir. 
 J. I hope, sir, you haue not cozened me of my ringe? 
 D. *Cozen you,' quoth he : marry, would I hadd the grace to 
 
 Cozen yow. 
 J. Thanke you, sir. This it is to commytt any-thinge to a 
 
 fooles charge. 
 D. [Aside.] I knowe he meanes that by the prisoners. — Nay, 
 maister, never sale soe. Doe but try me once ; and you 
 finde me wantinge eyther in vice or negligence, neare trust 
 me with charge againe. 
 73 J. Try the once? And nere trust the with charge againe? 
 What charge doest thou meane, man? 
 D. You need not make it soe strange, an yt please you. If 
 I looke not to them as I should doe, then put me out of 
 office, and put Sosia in my rome. 
 J. I praie the, what doest thou meane by this? I perceaue 
 
 the not. 
 D. Will you haue me speake louder, sir? 
 J. Speake lowder, you aske? Speak me plainer. Whome 
 wouldest thou looke to? Whie doest thou not answere me? 
 
 t Fol. 32 b. 
 
144 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 D. (Lachrymanter) Nay, tig no matter, Sir; though you doeeo 
 not, I am not greatlie disoff ended. 
 
 J. But wilt thou tell me what thou meanest? 
 
 D. Whie, those same prisoners you sent me worde by Sosia 
 I should keepe. By that token you badd him taJce the 
 ringe from me, you gaue me to deliuer my ladye. 
 
 J. Thou wilt neuer be but a foole. 
 
 D. Naye, lyke enough soe, sir. 
 
 J. Whie, I haue neyther prisoners, nor ever badd Sosia take 
 any ringe of the. 
 
 D. Then, belyke, I am cozoned for any-thinge I see; and yetw 
 let me see; how should he come to knowe I had the ringe, 
 if you tould him not? 
 
 J. How? Whie thou art such an asse as if I hadd bene as 
 he I would haue scene it in thy face. 
 
 D. A ringe in my face? A ringe in a hogges face! And 
 my face be well lokt into t'has as fewe ringes as other 
 folkes faces. 
 
 J. Whie, neare make soe much of that, man. He tell the 
 by thie face. He laie my lief, anie-thinge thou^ hast done, 
 and soe a man may doe by any fooles face in the world.* loo 
 
 D. Tell me anythinge I haue done by my face? Then will 
 I neare owne yt againe, an it were fine times better then 
 tis. 
 
 J. Whie, come hither. Looke upon me a litle, that thou 
 maist beleiue me another time. Let me see: when our 
 Armyes were hard a-fightinge I knowe what thou didest by 
 thy face. 
 
 D. Nay, nere stand lokinge soe, for and my face saye other- 
 wise then well by me I defye my face, I. 
 
 J. When we were hard in fightinge then thou, — lett me see. no 
 
 D. [Aside."] face, face, and thou beest a good face, be 
 true to thy maister now, face. 
 
 J. Then thou for a hundreth pound wert runninge away. 
 
 D. I am the wourse for my face while I line. Thou Judas 
 misbegotten face, that art a traitor to thy owne maister ! 
 Thou monster of faces ! I will hier some wild catt, some 
 hagg of hell, or some fernall furye to capperclawe the, or 
 els I will remoue the hither, and with the wurst peice hero 
 make a truer, a more disloyall, and honest face then euer 
 
 » Written " y« " in MS. + Fol. 23 a. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 14$ 
 
 lao thon werte. Yet had thou but betraied me to my maister, 
 
 and not lyke a swynes face shewed the ringe to Sosia, yt 
 
 would neuer have greiued me soe much. Well, I will about 
 
 the translatinge of the, presentlie for yt. 
 J. What, quite out of loue with thie face by this time? 
 
 Tis pitty, tis soe good a one. But I will haue you freindes 
 
 againe for all that. 
 D. Naie, then. 
 J. Sweare not, 'man. 
 D. Nay, an I bee? 
 130 J. Whie, I haue but iested with the, all this while. 
 
 D. I, much iestinge! And yet it male be so to, for I knowe 
 
 my face could neare tell you that I ranne awaie. 
 J. It needed not, man, for I see yt my-self , as I loket about 
 
 me to breath me, when we were in fight. 
 D. An I praie you. Sir, an I male be soe bould, is your eye- 
 sight soe transparent that you might not be ouerseene in 
 
 such a duste as was then? 
 J. It may be soe indeed, Dromio. 
 D. Tis a plaine case; you were greatlie mistaken. 
 
 140 J. Indeed, Amphitruo dares not sweare he see the 
 
 D. I may tell you Amphitruo does the wiser. 
 
 f J. And for the ringe, yt was not without my consent that 
 
 Sosia tooke yt of the. But the prisoners are yet to come. 
 
 When they come, challenge me of my worde, and if I faile 
 
 the, then blame me. 
 D. I'faith, I knewe you were in iest all this while. A 
 
 litle more I had giuen my face the remoue, I warrant it. 
 
 But doe you heare, maister, when will these prisoners 
 
 come, think you? 
 150 J. Neare thinke yt longe. As sone as they are come theile 
 
 be heare. 
 D. Thats well. And when a man has them now, what were 
 
 yt best for a man to be called, think you? 
 J. Whie, what thou wilte. 
 D. As it were, Monsier Le Gouerneur, or soe, sir, for I 
 
 would not be called a Jailor, for all the world : that were 
 
 Cozen german to a hangman once remoued (interposita 
 
 pausa) from the gallowes. 
 J. Thou shalt — thou shalt be called monsier le gouerneur, 
 
 tFoL 28 b. 
 
146 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 and he that calls the not soe, I will turne him out of my iw 
 
 house. 
 D. What, Sosia and all, maister? 
 J. I, Sosia, or ten Sosiaes. 
 D. Then will I see if Sosia or ten Sosiaes dare sale to me, 
 
 *Dromio, blacke is thine eye.' 
 
 SCEN V 
 MERCURIUS SOLUS 
 
 ITow ys it my fathers will that I shall keepe Amphitruo 
 from comeinge in here, whoe will presentlie returne from 
 seekinge of Naucrates, and to this end will I put a gar- 
 lande on my head, and make my-self lyke one of Bacchus 
 knightes, as if I were drunke, the better to couer the 
 matter. Then will I and Dromio up to the house toppe 
 togeather. I doubt not but we shall keepe him out well 
 enough as longe as the tiles^ last. As for Dromio, yt will 
 be the least parte of his thought that he keepes out his 
 maister, for he verilie takes my Father for him, whome he lo 
 shall leaue within. And all that I doe shall after light 
 upon Sosia his necke. What care I for that? Tis my 
 fathers will it should be soe, and the truth wilbe discou- 
 ered eare longe. Well, I will about it straight. See, 
 Amphitruo is heare at hand, litle loking for such Inter- 
 teignement at his owne house. 
 
 iWritten "toles" in Ms! 
 
f ACTUS QUARTUS 
 
 SCEK I 
 AMPHITRUO MERCURY DROMIO 
 
 A. [Solus.] I cannot finde Naucrates by no meanes. He 
 was not in the shipp nor in his owne house, nor could any 
 man tell me what was become of him. Now will I home 
 therefore, and never leaue untill I bringe my wief her-self 
 to confesee who hath couckolded me, for if I let yt passe 
 thus, let me suffer death. But softe! The dores, me- 
 thinkes, are shutt. How now? This is even much after 
 the reste. — Who is within here? Who comes to open me 
 the dore? 
 10 M. (Mercurius interloquendum mode oscitet, mode ructet. ) Whoe 
 is at the dore? 
 
 D. Whoe is that soe lustie at our dore? 
 
 A. Tys I. 
 
 D. Whoe? My maister? This is braue ! Haue I one maister 
 wythin and another wythout? I am sure I lefte one within 
 doeinge of his Collacion to the Goddes: by the masse. 
 He goe see whither he be within still or noe. 
 
 A. [Aside.] Thats Dromio; he is gone downe to let me in. 
 
 But what did he there, trowe wee? And is not Sosia yonder 
 
 20 still, with a garland about his heade? I maruell what 
 
 time of daie tis with him. — Sirra, whatt make you there? 
 
 Whie goe not you downe to open the dore? 
 
 M. Whiw, whiw, whiw! 
 
 A. Whie doe not you answere me, Sirr? 
 
 M. Whome, Sir? 
 
 A. Mee. 
 
 M. Whie, whatt are you? 
 
 A. *What am I,' sir? Do you aske the question? 
 
 M. I, marry, doe I, sir. A plague on you! What doe yon 
 30 rappinge soe hard at our dore? 
 
 tFol. 24 a. 
 
 147 
 
148 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 A. How ys that? 
 
 M. Tis even soe, as if your head were broken for'te you 
 
 hadd but your due. 
 A. Sosia! 
 
 M. Indeed, thats my name : how, then? 
 A. Vylleine, doest thou aske me, 'how then?' 
 M. I, marry, doe I, sir. Never stand faceinge of me. 
 
 What wouldest thou, fellowe? What art thou? 
 A. Thou base cowardlie villeine, doest thou aske what I am, 
 
 whome, for this daies worke, will I haue whipte till thou 49 
 
 hast not a iote of ^skynne lefte upon any parte of thy 
 
 bodie. I see thou arte drunke now, but thou shalt paie for 
 
 yt when thou arte sober. 
 M. Freinde, you should haue bene very prodigall in your 
 
 youth. 
 A. And whie, Sir? 
 M. That now you are ould come a-begginge to me for a 
 
 mischeif. 
 A. Dearly shalt thou abide, villeine, this wronge, if eare I 
 
 get the into my handes. so 
 
 M. Doe you heare, sir? Doe I not coole you to much to 
 
 keepe you without dores all this while? 
 A. I doubt not but eare longe I shall heat you for it. 
 D. Sirra, fellowe Sosia, my lord is within. 
 M. Thou needes not haue tould me that; I knewe soe much 
 
 before. But what hast thou brought there? 
 D. 'What haue I brought,' quoth he, as though a man could 
 
 trauell wythout his Liquor into these high Countries. 
 M. I'faith, god haue marcy, thou art ould suersby. 
 D. I, let me alone for a fore-caste. But, Sirra, what aeo 
 
 slave is yon! Doest thou not see he hath stollne my 
 
 maisters face up and downe, and his apparell, and how 
 
 lyke a villeine he lookes? 
 M. Whie, thou saiest he lookes lyke thy maister. 
 D. Thats true, but soe he does not looke lyke a villeine, but 
 
 as he is theif, man, soe he lookes lyke a villeine. You 
 
 haue wytt, fellowe Sosia, an twere a maister of an hospitall. 
 M. How is that, I praie the? 
 D. You will take a man up for hal tinge straight. 
 M. Well stumbled, I'faith, upon a good iest. to 
 
 tFol.24b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 149 
 
 D. Sirra, how the slaue leanes this waie! An you mark 
 
 him, he hath the very forfeyture of a theif. 
 M. Well, wilt thou helpe me to keepe him out? 
 D. To keepe him out? And more then that to. Doe but 
 
 thou goe downe and take him and binde him, and if I 
 
 helpe the not to beate him to, neuer trust me againe. 
 A. [Aside.] Yonder is Dromio againe; tis he. He laye 
 
 my lief now it is some plotte of my wiefes, and he is one 
 
 of the confederacy to. I will trye him. — Sirra! Dromio! 
 80 fD. In good time, sir; what then? 
 A. [Aside.] Did I not tell you soe? Hark how sawcilie 
 
 the varlet answeres me. — Sirra, did not you heare me 
 
 knock? 
 D. Yes, marry, did I, and hope to see you knockt to, by 
 
 and by, an you get you not awaie the soner. 
 A. Whie, villeine, I sale, whie doest thou not open the dore? 
 D. Open the dore, sir? Alas, thats but hard by, bycause 
 
 you seeme, as yt were, to be one of my acquaintance, good 
 
 f ellowe. I giue the leaue to open it thie-self if thou canst, 
 90 and take yt for a fauour. — Haue I not flouted him, think- 
 
 est thou? 
 . M. Yes, faith, hast thou : you are such another — ^you need 
 
 much to talke of other mens good wyttes. 
 D. Awaie, awaie, f ellowe Sosia. I 'faith you will mak me 
 
 blush, by and by. 
 A. Was euer man thus wretched but I, to line to be flouted 
 
 by those he hath brought up? 
 D. Goe your waies; thats a lye. I will be sworne I was 
 
 brought upp by the ladder here; I had neare bene here 
 100 to-daie els. — Sirra, f ellowe Sosia, He tell the what comes 
 
 into my head now. 
 M. I praie the, doe. I knowe tis some speciall matter. 
 D. Were not this an Incony place to take a pipe of Tobacco 
 
 in? 0, an our house had a chymney, a man might take 
 
 yt out of the chymney most plentifully ! 
 M. But, sirra, for want of Tobacco, what if we take a litle 
 
 Liquor in the meane-time? 
 D. A good motion, a very good motion, I 'faith. But what 
 
 wilt thou giue me if I floute yonder slaue now in high 
 110 dutch? 
 
 tFol. 25 a. ""^ 
 
150 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 M. What will I giue the? Thou shalt haue a kysse of 
 Thessala; how saiest thou? 
 
 D. Shall I i' faith? 0, braue! But where shall I kisse her, 
 sirra? 
 
 M. What a question is that! Where thou wilt; chuse thy 
 place. 
 
 [D.] Remember what you saie: I shall chuse my place. 
 Then haue at him. — Heare you, mein herr^ ich hringe euch 
 unudt heng euch selves. — I thinke I haue dutcht him. 
 
 M. Very good fustian, I'faith. 12a 
 
 D. Here, fellowe Sosia. 
 
 M. Me danck you, good fellowe Dromio; call you ^thia 
 highe dutch, to drynke all the beare and then giue a man 
 the emptye pott? Well, He finde an use for yt by and by. 
 (proijcit enim mox in Amphitruonem.) 
 
 A. {Aside.l Can a man indure all this? But I will let this 
 foole alone and trye Sosia yet a litle further. — Sirra Sosia, 
 you will open the dore. 
 
 M. Can you tell when. Sir? 
 
 D. Ha, ha, he! a very good iest, by the Lord, a very good 
 ieste, and without infectacion. iso- 
 
 A. Doest thou thinke whippinge shall serue thy turne? • 
 Nay, if I kill the not 
 
 D. Kill him', quoth he! Thou wilt be hanged as sone as 
 thou canst reach him. 
 
 M. Sirra, you that threaten to kill men, starvelinge Carcase, 
 shadowe of a man, be gone quickly, I giue you waminge, 
 and touch not our dore againe, you had best, not soe much 
 as with your litle finger. An you doe I will hitt you such a 
 phillipp on the coxcombe with one of these tyles that I 
 will make the spytt thy tounge out. 14a 
 
 D. [Aside.'] He hath spoken most pithilie; what shall 
 I saie after this? Even as my muse will giue me leaue. — 
 And if thou doest not spitt yt out the soner, marke me 
 well, I will take the such a blowe on thy chappes if 
 Apelles guide 
 
 M. Apollo, man, thou wouldest saie, I knowe. 
 
 D. I, soe I saie, if Pollio guide my right 
 
 M. Elbowe. 
 
 D. I, if Pollio guide my right Elbowe, that I will, that I 
 tFol. 35 b. ~~~~~ 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 151 
 
 150 will — I'faith you haue put me out, that you haue, fellowe 
 Sosia. 
 
 M. I warrant the; goe on, man. 
 
 D. — that I will send thie tounge for a lyinge after meat, lyke a 
 calues tounge downe thy throte, and see into thy foundacion 
 and soe forth. (Hie saepius in morem hoesitantis despuat) 
 ' M. Passing well. [Aside.] This is within all comparison. 
 
 A. [Aside.'] What doe I muse about? '^Harke he will 
 
 make another speach.''^ {'* " betwixt these markes is sayed 
 
 by Dromio.) A slaue, drunkerd, wilt thou forbidd me to 
 
 160 knocke at my owne dores? Doe I not knowe the to be a 
 
 coward? He goe pluck them downe to the very ground. 
 
 D. Surely the man has spoken as his wytt serues him.^ 
 
 M. You will not, I am sure. 
 
 A. See whither I will or no. 
 
 (In hoc intennedio tempore lateres eniunt, quorum aliqui sint 
 veri^ qui terram feriant aliqui falsi, qui ilium) 
 
 M. Then haue at you, I' faith. 
 D. Come on, I'faith ; lets to him. 
 M. But, Sirra, how an he gett up to us? 
 D. I warrant the; at him, at him! 
 
 A. 0, he hath wounded me! What, villaine, thy maister? 
 170 M. Doest thou finde fait with drunkerds, and call me 
 
 Master? He your man? I'faith, as much as I am, and 
 
 all one. 
 A. Whie, am not I thy maister? 
 D. Sirra, I longe to be at it againe; me^-thinkes tis fine 
 
 sporte. 
 M. Staie a litle, man; faire warrs are best. We must hauo 
 
 some parlie. 
 D. I am perswaded with much adoe. 
 
 M. You my maister. Sir? I hope I haue no maister but 
 180 Amphitruo. 
 
 A. Haue I then lost my shape? Tell me for godes sake ; 
 
 doe I not looke lyke Amphitruo? 
 D. Yes, by my troth, doeth he, and I should speake my 
 
 conscience : onely I thinke Amphitruo his head is wholer 
 
 then his. 
 M. Harke, Dromio, you are called within. 
 D. I come, I come! Ys it you, Mistris Thessala? Take 
 
 + Fol. 26 a. 1 Written " reri " in MS. a Written "my" in MS. 
 
152 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 heed, you had best, I doe not fall upon you. — Fellowe 
 
 Sosia, you will looke to him. [Exit Dromio.'] 
 M. I warrant the; lett me alone. [To Amphitruo.'] Didnotiflo 
 
 I sale thou wert tipled thy-self , that askes another man 
 
 whoe thou arte? Well, begone, I would wish the, without 
 
 more adoe, and trouble not our house while Amphitruo, 
 
 beinge now returned from the campe, is solasinge himself 
 
 with his Lady. 
 A. What Ladye? ^ 
 
 M. With Alcumena. 
 \. Whoe? 
 M. Did I not tell the? Amphitruo, my lord and maister. 
 
 Trouble me no more. **> 
 
 A. Tell me but this : with whome doeth he lye? 
 M. Yet aigaine? With whome — You longe for a tile or 
 
 twoe more? 
 A. Good Sosia, tell me. 
 
 fM. Did I not tell you? Most louinglie with Alcumena. 
 A. In the same Chamber? 
 M. I, and the same bedd, to. 
 A. Then I am undone. 
 M. [Aside.'] I think yt gaine that he calls undoeinge, to 
 
 haue a mans ground sowed to his handes. 210 
 
 A. Sosia ! 
 
 M. What a murreyne wilt thou haue with Sosia? 
 A. Raskall, doest thou knowe me? 
 M. I, slaue, that I doe, for a troublesome fellowe; wilt 
 
 thou begone? 
 A. I tell the I am thy maister Amphitruo. 
 M. I tell . the my Master Amphitruo is now in bedd with 
 
 my mistres, and if thou beest not gone the soner, I will 
 
 fetch him hither to trye him-self . 
 A. For Goddes loue let me but see him. 2» 
 
 M. Thou shalt, within a while, bycause thou art soe desyrous. 
 
 But in the meane-time se you medle not with our dores, least 
 
 now he hath done his other sacryfice, he come out and 
 
 sacrifice you. 
 
 tFol. 26 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 153 
 
 SCEN II 
 AMPHITRUO BLEPHARO 80SIA 
 
 A. [Solus.] Immortal I goddes, what desastrous chance 
 hath enwrapt^ my house since I went last from home? Tis 
 even here, I feare me, as it was in Arcadie, where men were 
 changed into beastes and neuer returned to their former 
 shape againe. Well, here will I pause a while untill I may 
 see this newe Amphitruo. 
 
 B. You tell me wonders, Sosia, that you should finde at 
 home another iust such a one as your-self. 
 
 S. But here ye me : when I am found another Sosia, and 
 
 10 Amphitruo another Amphitruo, what will you sale and 
 
 you finde another Blepharo? [Aside.] Would he might, 
 
 I'faith, and finde as good a Cudgellinge as I did to, and 
 
 then be turned home againe without his dynner. 
 
 B. You tell me strange thinges. But let us goe faster, least 
 Amphitruo staie for us. 
 
 f A. I thinke yt is the destinye of great men to haue semblable 
 crosses to their good successe. Soe stories recoumpt of 
 others, and soe yt is fallne out with me. 
 
 S. Sir, Blepharo! 
 30 B. Whats the matter? 
 
 S. I am affraide all goes not well; looke you, yonder 
 standes my Maister without, and the dore fast shut. 
 
 B. Thates nothinge ; perhapps he takes the ayre to gett him 
 a stomacke. 
 
 S. It male be soe. And soe he shuttes the dore that his 
 hunger when yt comes goe not in and eat upp the meate 
 before him. Marke him, for godes sake, how he standes 
 mumblinge of somethinge to him-self, as though he were 
 castinge up of his Accoumptes. And he should call upon 
 30 me no we I should make him a faire reckoninge. Doe not 
 goe soe faste, I praie the ; let us listen to him what he 
 sales. 
 
 A. I am affraied the goddes are angrie with me, and meane 
 to take from me againe the glory they haue giuen me by 
 this victorie. All my family is in a confusion, and that 
 
 » ' ' Bef aline ' ' Is crossed out in MS. t FoL 27 a. 
 
154 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 which is my greatest greif , my wief hath dishonored my 
 bedd. But of all wonders yet I maruell moste to finde my 
 cup in her custodie, the seale remayninge still unbroken. 
 Besides, could she not tell me directlie of the particulers 
 of the battell? Out of doubt this could not be but Sosia 40 
 his doeinge, that villeine, who besides hath wronged me soe 
 much. 
 
 S. He speakes of me. 
 
 B. I, that that I am sorie to heare. 
 
 S. Whither had I best goe to him, or noe? 
 
 B. As good sone as signe, man, and the better now before 
 he growes further into choller. 
 
 S. Thinke you soe? 
 
 A. Yet it wilbe some ease to me if I maye but revenge my- 
 self of that villeine. 50 
 
 S. Doe you heare him? For the lone of god let me be 
 gonne. 
 
 B. Whither wouldest thou goe, man? Thou wilt not runne 
 awaie, I am sure. 
 
 S. I am indifferent whither I doe or not. 
 
 B. I warrant the, man ; pluck upp a good harte. You a 
 
 souldier ! 
 S. All this while I see plainly he is contryvinge some mis- 
 
 cheif against me. But what reason has he?"*" 
 fA. Doe I not see Blepharo? I muste [ask]* what busineseo 
 
 has brought him hither. But tis well he is come ; he may 
 
 doe that for me that Naucrates should haue done, and 
 
 helpe to convince my wief of her forgeries to her face. — 
 
 What good newes with you, Blepharo? 
 B. Haue you forgott yourself so sone. Sir? Did not you 
 
 send Sosia to me this morninge to the shipp to bidd me 
 
 come to you to dynner? 
 
 A. Not I, in good faith. But where is that villeyne? 
 
 B. Whome doe you meane? 
 
 A. Sosia. TO 
 
 B. He was here even now. (hie nutu agit Sosia) 
 
 A. What, he was not ! Whither is the villeine gone? If I 
 kill him not, let him upbraid me hereafter with the base . 
 wronges he hath done me. — Haue I gott you at last. Sir? 
 
 B. I beseech you, Sir, haue patience. 
 
 + Fol. 27 1). » Word omitted in MS. 
 
THE Wiethe of hercules 155 
 
 A. Let me alone, Blepharo, for he shall never scape my 
 handes. 
 
 B. Heare me, sir, but a word first. 
 
 A. Speake quickly, for I will endure no longe delaye. 
 80 S. Why, sir, I could come no sooner, I am sure, unles you 
 would haue had me flye, and that a man cannot doe 
 lightlie without winges. 
 
 A. By heauens. He forbeare him no longer. 
 
 B. I praie you. Sir, hould your handes ; we could possibly 
 come no faster. 
 
 A. What tell you of faster or softlier? Doe you see the 
 
 house, the tyles, my head broken? 
 S. *The house, the tyles, my head broken, ' quoth he? Why, 
 had I your head in kepinge that I should answere for the 
 flo breakinge of yt? 
 
 A. Hark to this villeine. Blepharo, you doe me wronge to 
 stale my hande. Thinke you that these thinges are to be 
 put upp at a slaues hand? 
 
 B. Whie, Sosia, what sale you to this? 
 
 S. I praie you. Sir, when should this be done? 
 
 A. Doest thou aske me, villeine? Doest thou not knowe? 
 
 Twas even now within this houre. 
 S. Lawe ye, now, I thought soe much. And did not you 
 
 send me out in the morninge to fetch Blepharo to +dynner 
 100 to you, and haue not I bene with him eare since? 
 A. Lyinge villeine, whoe sent the? 
 S. Marry, even you, sir. 
 
 A. Does thy drinke worke in the still? 
 
 S. I, mutch drinke ! for as sone as I was come you set me 
 presentlie to looke to the cleansinge of the vesselles 
 against your sacrifice, and as sone as that was done, you 
 sent me abroad to fetch him here. 
 
 B. Sir, let me perswade you a litle. By this I now here 
 of you, comparinge it with that he hath tould me, I feare 
 
 110 some vilde magitian hath enchaunted your whole famylie. 
 It were best, in my poore aduise, to enquire further into the 
 matter, before you prosecute any revenge upon him whome 
 perhapps you might after finde Innocent, and then yt 
 would greiue you to late. I doe not think he durst hauo 
 attempted this against you. 
 
 +F0I. 28 a. 
 
156 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 A. [Aside.] He sales true, and I care not if I folio we his 
 councel. — Well, Blepharo, thou hast half pers waded me. 
 But thou shalt goe in with me, that I may trie whither my 
 wief will face the and me downe to, as she hath done him 
 and me already. 12a 
 
 SCEN III 
 JUPITEE AMPHITRUO SOSIA BLEPHARO 
 
 J. [Solus.] Whats he that hath kept such a sturreat our 
 doore to-daie? I think he hath almost remoued yt of of the 
 hinges. Would I might see him that hath plaied these 
 reakes; I trust I should teach him better manners. I 
 maruell Blepharo is soe longe a-comeinge. I sent Sosia 
 outtyme enough to haue brought him by this time. 
 
 S. Blepharo, he that is now come out of house, he is my 
 maister, thates certeine, and this fellowe here is a Juggler. 
 
 B. Jupiter, what doe I see? This is not certeine ; yonder 
 is Amphitruo. la 
 
 J. 0, are you come, sir? I am gladd ont, for of my word 
 my stomack was upp a good while agoe. 
 
 S. Did not I saie that he is a Juggler? 
 
 A. What should myne be then, that haue not eaten yet since 
 my arryuall? He may haue refresht him-self by this tyme, 
 an it please him, out of my store. 
 
 fS. Sir, and you be hungrie, yonder is a hartichoke for you. 
 
 A. Villeine, hast thou neuer done? 
 
 S. Villeine in your face ! Your trickes shall not serue you 
 now my maister is come. aa 
 
 A. My trickes, slave? 
 
 J. How now, sir, what are you that menace my seruaunte 
 in my presence? 
 
 S. I beleiue Master Juggler, you haue mett with one will 
 conuince you now. 
 
 A. Your seruaunte, sir? 
 
 J. I, my seruaunte, soe I saie. 
 
 A. Tis a lye ; he is myne. 
 
 J. Sirra, goe you in and get dynner readie ; in the meane- 
 time He dresse him heare. so 
 
 t Fol. 28 b. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 157 
 
 S. Goe but dresse him as my fellowe Sosia dreste me. But 
 lie goe mak dynner readie ; tis the best worke I went yet 
 aboute since my comeinge home. [Exit Sosia.] 
 
 J. Now, Sir, is it you that saie I lye? 
 
 A. I saie thou liest lyke a damned sorcerer as thou arte, that 
 hast by thy charmes abused me and my whole famylie. 
 (Supplantat^ & evaginat et gladium simul) 
 
 J. For this reproach will I here presently hange the 
 upp. 
 
 A. 0, helpe me, Blepharo, helpe me, or I am undone. 
 
 40 B. [Aside.] They are soe lyke that I cannot tell which of 
 them hath the wronge, yet I will doe what I can to take up 
 the matter betwixt them. — Amphitruo, doe not kill Amphi- 
 truo ; spare his lief. 
 J. Callest thou him Amphitruo? 
 
 B. If Amphitruo were as he was wont to be, and as other 
 men be, a single Amphitruo, I might then possibly wronge 
 you, but now the fashion of doublinge is come up I knowe 
 no more reason whie one should be Amphitruo then the 
 other. [Jupiter seizes Atnphitruo.] 
 
 50 A. 0, what doest thou to me? 
 
 B. Good Amphitruo, strangle him not. 
 
 J. Whie tell me, doeth he seme to be Amphitruo? 
 
 B. Both of you seeme no lesse to me. 
 
 A. Almighty Jupiter, where haue I loste my shape? Let 
 me aske him. Are you Amphitruo? 
 
 t J. Doe you denye yt? 
 
 A. Be you, a goddes name, as you seeme to be, a better man 
 then Amphitruo, but I knowe yt there is no other Amphit- 
 ruo in Thebes but I. 
 eo J. And I saie there is none but I. Let Blepharo be Judge. 
 
 A. With all my harte ; I desire no better. 
 
 B. Alas, how can I iudge betwixt you? You are soe lyke — 
 yet I will doe the best I can. How saie you, will you stand 
 to my Judgment? 
 
 A. I am Content. 
 J. And I. 
 
 B. [To Amphitruo.] Then tell me, you, before the battell 
 began what specyall charge gaue you me? 
 
 A. To keepe my shipp still in readines. 
 
 1 Looks like "suppluntat" in MS. t Fol. 29 a. 
 
158 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 J. That if I were pub to the wurst I might recouer her for to 
 a refuge. 
 
 A. Besides to haue specyall care to the truncke that carryed 
 my treasure. 
 
 J. But how much was in yt? 
 
 B. Nay, let me aske that question ; can you tell your-self ? 
 J. Twenty thousand crownes. 
 
 B. As iust as can be. 
 
 A. I cannot denie yt. 
 
 B. [To Amphitruo.] And you, how many ducketts? 
 
 A. Ten thousand, and thre thousand double pistolettes. so 
 
 B. [Aside,] Both of them haue answered as right as is 
 possible. I cannot tell what to sale to yt, if one of them 
 were not lockt in the truncke. 
 
 J. Hark ye a litle further. You knowe with this hand I 
 killed kinge Pterelas, tooke awaie his spoiles, got the daie 
 of our enymies, was presented after the battell with the 
 cupp the kinge was wont to drinke in, which I brought 
 home in a Caskett, gaue yt my wief, with whome I washt, 
 supt, and laye this last night. 
 
 A. Alas, what doe I heare? I am scarse my-self, thatsoo 
 right. He sales I am not Amphitruo. I finde I am not 
 my-self. Wherein is our difference? Is not this to sleepe 
 walkinge, to dye beinge aliue? I am, out of doubte, 
 Amphitruo. Well may Enchantmentes seaze upon my 
 flesh, or the baser parte of my soule, my affeccions, but as 
 for my understandinge, yt is a brighter light then can be 
 eclipst by all the blacknes of the blackest arte. *I knowe 
 I am Amphitruo, I, the captaine of the Thebans, who 
 conquered the Taphians, and lefte there noble Cephalus 
 my liefetenaunte. loo 
 
 J. And I that Amphitruo that slewe those outlawes, the 
 dreadful foragers of my country, whoe with theire pyracie 
 awed all Archaia, iEtolia, Phocis, the Ionian, (Egean, and 
 Cretick seas. 
 
 A. 0, Immortall godes, I no longer beleiue my-self; farewell 
 understandinge and all, if he thus presentlie recount my 
 storie. Nowe I am not Amphitruo the captaine, nor 
 Amphitruo the conqueror enricht with soe many spoiles, 
 honored with soe many victories. But I am Amphitruo the 
 
 tFol. 29 b. ' " ' 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 159 
 
 110 miserable. Sir, you shall not take this from me. I am 
 poore, unfortunate, abieci A.mphitruo ; you haue noe Inter- 
 est in all this. I am Amphitruo the dishonored, the dis- 
 graced: will you fight with me for these tytles? I am 
 Amphitruo, that am wronged by my wief and my 
 seruauntes : sale, are you he? I am Amphitruo that am 
 robde of my wief and my seruauntes. I, you can beare me 
 wytnes I am hee. 0, Blepharo, looke to yt. 
 
 B. I will doe my best, and there is but one thinge lefte to 
 helpe me : if that be in you both, you must even be f aine 
 120 to be twoe still for me ; tis more then I can doe to make 
 you one. 
 
 J. I knowe what you meane, the scarre in my right 
 shoulder that remaines of the wound kinge Pterelas gaue 
 me. 
 
 B. The same. 
 
 A. For godes sake, looke us both well. 
 J. Doest thou see yt or noe? 
 
 (Quid si similia appareant subucula cum defibulantur.) 
 
 B. Unbrase your-self ; lett me looke on you to. heauens, 
 what doe I see? They haue yt both in the same place, of 
 
 130 the same length, the scarre yet fresh in them, and the 
 skynne betwixte redd and blue, for all the world alyke. 
 I haue done ; let them that haue more wy tt then I giue 
 Judgment in this matter. I can saye nothinge to soe nice 
 a difference: even take yt up betwixt you for me. I must 
 be gone. I haue busines. I neare sawe the like to this 
 before. 
 
 A. Whie Blepharo, wilt thou then forsake me at this pinche? 
 
 B. I cannot tell which of you I forsake bycause He displease 
 neyther. He forsake you both. 
 
 140 1 J. And I will to Alcumena, whoe is now upon the point of 
 beinge deliuered. 
 A. What will become of me now? Haue all forsaken me, 
 my wief, my seruauntes, my freindes? Whither shall I goe? 
 Into the house, to be controuled where I am commander? 
 Into the Cyttie to be subiecte to their tounges, whose 
 heades not longe since were under my girdle? To the 
 kinge, to be highly skomed and royallie laught at? Was 
 yt the will of the Immortall goddes I should survyve soe 
 
 tFol. 30 a. 
 
160 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 many daungers in my youth to reape disgrace for my ages 
 porcion? Were my flaxen haires soe often adorned withiso 
 laurell, and shall my siluer lockes be incircled with nettles? 
 Tut, yt was not I. Did I conquer the Taphians, bringe 
 under the Outlawes, kill kinge Pterelas with my owne 
 handes, and now suffer my-self to be Cockoulded by my 
 wiefe, flouted by my seruauntes, braued by a stranger at 
 myne owne dores? Well, and if I put up all this quietlie 
 yt was not I. I am not Amphitruo. But if I goe in & 
 hewe them all in pecies with my sworde for revenge, then 
 twas I. I then am Amphitruo. But hark! what crye is 
 that within? i6» 
 
 (post clamorem parientis tonitru ingens quod aliquam diu 
 continuetur oportet.) Alcmena shrikes out within, and presently 
 together with her the Drums for thunder.)* 
 
 a Tbe passage "Alcmena . . . thunder" is written in a different hand. 
 
ACTUS QUINTUS 
 
 SCEN^ I 
 
 BROMIA AMPHITRUO DROMIO 
 
 (Durante tonitni aperiente se ostio cum impetu, Dromio 
 excurrens ex aedibus in herum iaoentem titubet, & iuxta concidat, 
 totus stupef actus.) 
 
 B. [Sohis.] Alas, alas, what a daie is this! My feare is 
 such as I cannot tell where I am. Would not one haue 
 thought that heauen and earth would haue come together? 
 My head akes yet with the noise. I thinke I shall not be 
 well this moneth againe. Lord, what strange thinges are 
 fallne out in our house ! As my ladye was in traueyll she 
 called upon the goddes to assyste her. Then was there 
 presentlie such a thunderinge and lighteninge as we in the 
 house fell flatt to the grounde for feare. Then I knowe 
 
 10 not whoe, but some-bodie with a huge voyce cried out, 
 **Alcumena, feare not; the goddes haue hard thy praiers 
 « and their cheif comaunder wilbe propitious to the ; and you 
 that are fallne, rise up and be not affraied." With that 
 I rose up, but durst scarse open myne eyes for feare. But 
 as sone as I had opened them I was wurse affraied then I 
 was before, for our house did shyne soe all over as I 
 verylie thought yt had bene on a light fier. Then my 
 ladye called to me to come to her, and when I was come I 
 perceaued she was deliuered of twoe braue boyes, even by 
 
 30 the grace of the goddes, without help of ^mydwief or 
 maide. — But who be these that lye here? Alas, some, out 
 of doubte, that haue bene smytten with thunder. Yonder 
 lookes lyke Dromio, and I should knowe this ould gentle- 
 man; I feare me yt is my Lord. Out, alas, tis he indeed 1 
 Dead, or aliue, trowe we? — Sir, my Lord ! 
 
 A. now my time is come. 
 
 B. Arise, my Lord, arise, if you be aliue. 
 
 tFol. 30 b. 
 
 161 
 
162 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 A. What wilte thou doe with me? 
 
 B. Giue me your hand ; I will helpe you upp. 
 
 A. Whoe takes me by the hande? 
 
 B. Your handmaide, Bromia. 
 
 A. I am all in a cold sweate for feare since Jupiter hath 
 threatned me. But howe durst you come abroade? 
 
 B. Alas, we were as scared within as you were abroade. 
 0, the lord, the wonders that we haue seene in our house! 
 They doe yet soe amase me I can scarslie speake. 
 
 A. But tell me, wench, I praie the, doest thou knowe me 
 for certeine to be thy maister Amphitruo? 
 
 B. What should ayle me but to knowe you? 
 
 A. I praie the marke me well ; be sure. 40 
 
 B. I am sure ; whie do you make yt a question? 
 
 A. This wench alone is well of all my househould. 
 
 B. Nay, all are well within, thankes to the goddes. 
 
 A. Would I Were soe to, but my wief hath taken order with 
 me for my wellfare. 
 
 B. You wilbe of another minde by that time you haue 
 heard all I can tell you, and finde she is your chaste and 
 loyall wief. 
 
 A. Why, what canst thou sale? 
 
 B. First, she is deliuered of twoe twynnes. so 
 
 A. Twoe twynnes? 
 
 B. Twoe twynnes. 
 
 A. Then I Hue againe. 
 
 B. Let me tell you on, that you may knowe the Imortall 
 goddes meane you and your lady well. 
 
 A. Speake on. 
 
 B. When she was upon the points of her deliuery expect- 
 ing the ordinary panges and daungers that doe accompanie 
 weomen in such case, she lifted ^up her handes to heauen, 
 and bareheaded called devoutly upon the goddes for their 6o 
 assystance; where-upon presentlie came soe mightie a 
 thunder-clapp as Ave verilie thought the house would haue 
 fallne upon our heades. The thunder contynued as you 
 heard, and in the meane-time our house shined all over 
 within, as if yt had bene colored with the beames of the 
 Sonne settinge. 
 
 A. I praie the, wench, if thou comest to abuse me make an 
 
 t Fol. 31 a. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 163 
 
 end quicklie, and hould me not longe in this fooles para- 
 dise. 
 70 B. Sir, remoiie this suspiciousnes of yours; I speake 
 nothinge but truth. 
 
 A. Then goe forwarde. 
 
 B. In this time was she deliuered. And besides one shryke 
 at the first, rather for feare then for any-thinge els, we 
 neuer perceaued anie token of anguish in her deliuery. 
 
 A. I am gladd to heare this, howsoeuer she hath deserued 
 of me. 
 
 B. Sir, let that alone, and but heare me on. After she was 
 deliuered she badd us washe the babes, as we did, but that 
 
 80 childe I washt, lord, what a choppinge boye it is ! Whie, sir, 
 tis half a man already. I am sure twas more then thre of 
 us could doe to binde him in his swadelinge cloutes, and 
 yet we had Sosia to help us. 
 
 A. These thinges thou tellest me be strange. They be 
 signes indeed that the goddes are on her side. 
 
 B. Nay, this is nothinge to that that is behinde. After we 
 had laide them in the cradle there came glydinge in out of 
 the base courte twoe huge highe crested serpentes, and 
 they came adnancinge their heades dyrectlie into the 
 
 &o nursery. 
 
 A. What then? 
 
 B. Feare not, Sir, I warrant you. Beinge come in, they 
 caste their heades everye waie towardes every corner. At 
 last they moued towarde the cradle. I plaict it still from 
 them as well as I could, beinge aifraied both of the babes 
 and my-self. They made the more still after yt, till at 
 laste this childe I tould you that is soe great alreadie, 
 espyinge them, lept out of the cradle, assaulted them, 
 caught one in one hand and the other in the other. 
 
 100 A. Thou makes me tremble to heare the. For goddes sake 
 what became of them? Did they not hurt him? 
 f B. Hurt him? Alas, he crusht them both as if they had bene 
 twoe flyes untill he lefte them for deade. Presently after 
 that one spake to my Ladye ^vith a mightie voice, whoe, as 
 he said, was Jupiter himself, and badd my lady be of good 
 cheare, and tould her this boy was his. 
 A. Is this possible? Were it soe, I should hould yt no dis- 
 
 tFol. 31 tJ. 
 
164 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 grace to haue Jupiter my copartner. Well, Bromia, goe 
 
 in and I will folio we the. — But whoe lyes here as if he were 
 
 dead? Out of doubt tys Dromio. Howe came he hither? no 
 
 I will raise him. — Sirra, Dromio ! 
 D. Oh, oh, oh! 
 A. What, Dromio! 
 D. "Wliat shalbe come of me nowe? 
 A. Why, Dromio, I sale arise, man. 
 D. An you be a godd of your handes spare my lief and take 
 
 that that I haue. 
 A. I maruell not to see this villeine soe much affraied when 
 
 I my-self even now was in the lyke case. What, Dromio, I 
 
 sale, tis I. lao 
 
 D. An yt be, sir, thats all one. I haue not great hast to 
 
 heauen yet an yt please you to let me alone. I am as 
 
 well here. 
 A. Whie, tis I, man, thy maister. 
 D. I knowe you are maister, sir, to better men then I am, 
 
 yet had I as Hue not serne you at this time. 
 A. What an asse is this to feare when there is no cause. 
 
 I tell the tis I, thy maister, Amphitruo. 
 D. An you haue my maister Amphitruo, sir, you may the 
 
 better spare me. i» 
 
 A. *Have him,' quoth he; I tell the I am he. 
 D. It may be soe sir, but how shall a man knowe that? 
 A. Whie loke upon me, man. 
 D. I, I thought soe; now ones eyes are smytten out of his 
 
 heade with a thunderboult, you would haue me looke 
 
 upon you. 
 A. Whie, I warrant the, doe but looke upp. 
 D. You are sure. Sir, you se no more thunder sturringe? 
 A. I warrant the. 
 D. Well, I will venture : giue me your hand. Can a man tell 140 
 
 whither I see or no? Let me see ; doe I see, or am I ouer- 
 
 seene? By this ^Light, I see indeed; who would haue 
 
 thought yt? maister, where haue you bene all this 
 
 while? Are you here still? 
 A. Whie, where should I be els? 
 D. * Where,' quoth he; by heauen, I thought you hadd bene 
 
 in heauen, I. 
 
 +F0I. 82 a. 
 
THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 165 
 
 A. I praie the, ho we should I come thither? 
 D. I doe not meane you should haue gone thither, but that 
 150 yt should haue come to you. Why, whoe would not haue 
 
 thought but heauen and earth by this time had come 
 
 together? 
 A. Thou seest I am here yet. 
 D. I, and am gladd to see yt to, I male tell you, for I nere 
 
 thought to haue scene yt with these eyes againe. But 
 
 maister, wott you what, I haue hadd the strangest dreame 
 
 I thinke that euer you hard. 
 A. Whye, what was that? 
 
 D. That yt should raine soe longe till our house were of a 
 160 light fyre, and then my mistres should be deliuered, god 
 
 blesse us, of twoe boyes and twoe serpentes, and one of 
 
 the serpentes should kill the twoe boyes, and one of the 
 
 boyes should kill the twoe serpentes. 
 A. This is a strange dreame indeed. 
 
 (The soft musick with the song therin by Jupiter, y 
 D. harke, maister, more thunder, more thunder! In, 
 
 and you loue your-self ! 
 
 (Audiatur quasi incipiens musica, vel buccinarum, vel organo- 
 
 rum, de coelo histrioni[o]o.) 
 
 SCENA II 
 JUPITER AMPHITRUO 
 
 J. Amphitruo ! 
 
 A. This voyce is from heauen ; I must doe reuerence. 
 
 (Iterum sonet musica coelestis aliquod interstitium. 
 
 Procxmibit in faciem Amphitruo.) 
 
 SCEN III 
 
 JUPITER SOLUS 
 
 Amphitruo, feare not, but take thy wief againe. The 
 boyes she is deliuered of, one of them was begotten by the, 
 the other by me : IWlbome f w^ll baue caUeD f)ercule0. 
 
 (hie chorus audiatur cantans quasi de coelo, ultima verba Jovis) 
 
 ( ) written in a different hand. 
 
166 THE BIRTHE OF HERCULES 
 
 tscEif mi 
 
 JUPITER SOLUS 
 
 Amphitruo, the confusion of thy house was wrought by 
 me for my owne pleasure. In recompense wherof I haue 
 giuen the 21 Sonne tbat Bball crownc tb^ mortall bcaDe 
 mi^tb ITmmortalistle. 
 
 (hoc etiam decantet choms) 
 
 SCEN V 
 JUPITER AMPHITRUO 
 
 J. Amphitruo, be f reindes, therefore, with Alcumena, for 
 she is true, and nere toucht man but thou. 
 2ln& 0OC f^e bappie Blcumena, be bappie Bmpbltruo. 
 
 (hoc denique decantet chorus) 
 A. All rulinge Jupiter, yt shalbe as thou comandest. 
 (finite chorus) 
 
 { (Postremo audiatur prima ilia coelestis musica, ita ut sonus 
 paulatira ascenders videatur) 
 
 Tms I hjij 
 
 poGtao ad p elettm 
 
 prinrftps Pp.lp.n tn>'^ pro indj rio^ vn] f» 
 bf>,Tin r^o^tfl,Tn nrnnrih-rilMMij i' t^l ZEgrrt^riSs, 
 W.I vrtir ori' hnn cot, dut r irfrrtrpftf^ 
 
 S^fi^ir-ae € poeta, n ee 
 
 + Fol. 32 b- 
 
 1 These. lines appear in the original MS. crossed out as indicated. 
 
NOTES 
 
 The manuscript of the play is in the British Museum {Add. 28722). 
 Regarding the author I have been able to discover nothing, nor does it 
 seem possible to fix the exact date of composition. Manuscript 
 experts of the British Museum conjecture from the hand and from the 
 
 ^ paper that the manuscript belongs to the period between the years 
 
 1610 and 1620,— that it has "altogether a seventeenth century look." 
 
 But we have good reason for believing that the play belongs to a 
 
 . period slightly antecedent to 1610. By an act of Parliament 3 James I 
 chap. 21, "an Act to restrain the abuses of Players," it is provided 
 that "for the preventing and avoiding of the great abuse of the holy 
 Name of God in Stage-playes," etc., a fine of ten pounds shall be 
 imposed upon any person who "shall in any Stage-play, Enterlude, 
 Sew [shew], May-game, or Pageant, jestingly or prophanely speak, or 
 use the Name of God or of Jesus Christ, or of the Holy Ghost, or of the 
 Trinity. ..." It was in accordance with the provisions of this act, as 
 
 , is well known, that many of the freer expressions in the earlier Shak- 
 spere quartos were modified in the first folio. It would seem highly 
 probable, then, that we may assign the play to the period between 
 
 .1600 and 1606. Hazlitt in his Collector's Manual gives as the date of 
 composition "about 1590," but this would seem to be a mere con- 
 jecture. The line in the Prologus Laureatus which states that 
 
 , Thepilogue is in fashion, prologues no more, 
 
 seems to furnish us with a clue, but when we attempt to follow its 
 leading it proves of little service. References to contemporary prac- 
 tice in the matter of prologues and epilogues occur occasionally in 
 Elizabethan plays. Compare, for example, the epilogue to As You 
 Like it. The Prologue to The Woman Hater by Beaumont and 
 Fletcher (1607) begins as follows: -"Gentlemen, Inductions are out 
 of date, and a Prologue in verse is as stale as a black velvet cloak and 
 
 • a bay garland: therefore you shall have it in plain prose, thus." A 
 similar reference, though specifically made with regard to the apolo- 
 
 f getic prologue to a mask, occurs in Romeo and Juliet I. iv. 3 (1594-96?), 
 where Benvolio declares that "the date is out of such prolixity. " The 
 fact that the date of composition of many of the plays which were 
 written in the early part of the seventeenth century can not now be 
 determined accurately makes the question more difficult, but if we 
 take the works of Heywood, Chapman, Shakspere, Jonson, Beaumont 
 and Fletcher alone, we find it almost impossible to say that at any 
 time during the last decade of the sixteenth, or the first thirty years 
 of the seventeenth century the epilogue was particularly popular or 
 the prologue falling into disuse. The probability would seem to be 
 that the reference is of a very local character. 
 
 The suggestion presents itself that possibly The Birthe of Hercules 
 
 1G7 
 
168 NOTES 
 
 is one of the plays which were Englished by W. W., the translator of 
 the Menaechmi. A comparison of the play, however, with the single 
 work of this author which has come down to us, gives no reason for 
 accepting the theory of identity of authorship. General technique, 
 the method of treating the original, the language used in the English 
 versions — none of these show any real similarity. 
 
 Relation of TJie Birthe of Hercules to the Amphitruo 
 The Birthe of Hercules is a translation, now free, now rather close, 
 of the Amphitruo of Plautus ; nearly one-third of the English play, 
 however, is entirely original. A detailed comparison of the dramas 
 will make their relation to each other more apparent. 
 
 The Birthe of Hercules is preceded by a Prologus Laureatus of fifty- 
 six lines which opens with an excuse for itself. The origin of the play 
 is then declared, as well as its popularity in ancient times. The 
 criticism of those who "for addinge to yt and alteringe yt must be 
 offended" is forestalled by citing the custom of Plautus and Terence in 
 dealing with their Greek originals. The objection of those who "will 
 condempne as unfyttinge heathen mouth the use of Christian asseuer- 
 acions" is also considered and dismissed lightly, for "our poet lookes 
 not to doe more then Joue himself, who, raine he or hould he up, pleases 
 not alL " This prologue is of course entirely original with the English 
 author. 
 
 The acrostic argument is omitted and next follows Mercurius Pro- 
 logus, corresponding to the prologue of the Amphitruo which, how- 
 ever, has been much shortened. The greater part of Mercury's speech 
 in the Amphitruo, in which he announces himself as the messenger of 
 his father, Jupiter, and entreats silence, is omitted. So, too, is his 
 juggling with the question as to whether the play shall be a tragedy or 
 comedy, his orders to the conquisitores to take measures against those 
 who may have been suborned to applaud individual actors, and his 
 threats against the Aediles if they do not perform honestly their duty 
 as judges. To the latter part, in which Mercury sets forth the subject 
 of the play, the English prologus bears in most places a general resem- 
 blance. The chief departure of The Birthe of Hercules from its orig- 
 inal, however, is here indicated. "Whereas in the Amphitruo the 
 general sends only his servant Sosia as a messenger, the plot is com- 
 plicated in The Birthe of Hercules by sending "after him another for 
 faile. " Only in one or two instances do we find literal translation, a g : 
 
 The place where we now are is Thebes, 
 This is Amphitruo his house, 
 A great lord of this countrie. 
 Haee urhs est Thebae: in illisce habitat aedibus Amphitruo, natus Argis ex Argo 
 patre. (U. 97-8.) 
 
 and again : 
 
 But that you may know us asunder I will were in my hatt a i)eice of a f ether 
 
 lor a difference. 
 
 Nunc internosse ut nos pottitis faciliua 
 
 Ego has habebo usque in petaso pinnulas. (11. 142-43.) 
 
 Practically the same information is given in the two prologues, but 
 
NOTES 169 
 
 unimportant omissions, additions, and modifications are made 
 throughout. 
 
 At the end of this prologue, and on the same folio stands the list of 
 dramatis personae: in Plautus it precedes the acrostic argument. The 
 order is slightly different in the English play, which has the one 
 added character— I>rowio alter Ser. Amphyt. 
 
 The elaborate stage directions of The Birthe of Hercules are, of 
 ^course, original with its author. Throughout Act I, Sc. i, we have a 
 fairly close correspondence. Frequently the translation is almost 
 literal, though slight departures from the original occur everywhere. 
 For instance, the references to Dromio and Thessala, as also the rather 
 .pathetic attempt at witticism suggested by the expression "bridle that 
 tounge of youres," are additions. In the passage where Mercury 
 announces that his cudgel has put four men to sleep, and Sosia fears 
 that his name may be changed to Quintus, the English author has 
 found it more convenient to juggle with the numbers nine and ten. 
 In Plautus the seal is simply cum quadrigis Sol exoriens; in The Birthe 
 of Hercules this is expanded to "The Sonne rysinge drawn in an azure 
 ooatch with foure flame colored horses." But except such slight 
 .departures — and they are rather numerous—the correspondence is 
 close. 
 
 Sc. ii, in which Mercury in a monologue announces the approach of 
 .Dromio, and Sc. iii, in which he imposes on the latter by playing the 
 role of Sosia, are additions entirely. On the other hand Sc. ii of the 
 Amphitruo, in which Mercury soltis tells the audience how Jupiter will 
 finally free Alcmena from suspicion, is entirely omitted. Sc. iv of 
 Tlie Birthe of Hercules follows Sc. iii of the Amphitruo rather closely, 
 and includes Sc. iv — Jupiter's address to night. 
 
 Act II, Sc. i, a dialogue between Alcmena and Thessala, is an 
 ' addition. Alcmena's first speech corresponds to her monologue at the 
 beginning of Sc. ii of the Amphitruo, but only in a general way, for 
 in the latter she is reconciled to her husband's absence because 
 Virtus omnibus rebus anteit profecto . . . Virtus omnia in sese habet; 
 in The Birthe of Hercules we have one long complaint regarding 
 woman's lot, in which Thessala joins warmly. 
 
 Sc. ii, in which Sosia relates to his master his wonderful experience, 
 and his doubts as to his own identity, corresponds closely to Sc. i of 
 the Amphitruo. 
 
 Sc. iii, the meeting of Alcmena and Amphytrion, follows the gen- 
 eral progress of Sc. ii of the Amphitruo, but with some changes. 
 Alcmena's opening soliloquy about Penelope and her weaving is sub- 
 stituted for the reflections on the general unhappiness of woman's lot 
 which have been made use of in the first scene. Thessala is a charac- 
 ter; in Plautus she is present, but merely for the purpose of executing 
 the command of her mistress to bring in the casket. We have also an 
 added reference to another servant, for when Alcmena sends Thessala 
 on her errand she adds: "Bid Ragazzo come too." Amphytrion 
 accuses his wife of having gained her information about his success in 
 l^attle from Dromio. 
 
170 NOTES 
 
 Act III, Sc. i — Jupiter solus — follows closely Sc. i of the Amphitruo. 
 Jupiter's references to Juno are both additions. Sc. ii corresponds ta 
 Sc. ii of the Amphitruo. The only difference here is in the motif of 
 the reconciliation. In the Amphitruo Alcmena yields to her supposed 
 husband's entreaties ; in The Birthe of Hercules she yields only after 
 he has taken her refusal as final, and has announced that he will 
 leave Thebes forever, upon which she rejoins : 
 
 The goddes f orbidd that for my sake you should wroDge your countrie soe 
 much. 
 
 Sc. iii corresponds to Scs. iii and iv^ of the Amphitruo, but only in 
 the most general way. Alcmena upbraids Sosia for his past conduct, 
 whereas in Plautus, Jupiter merely tells Sosia that a reconciliation has 
 taken place. The latter part of the scene is a monologue in which 
 Jupiter explains how he will have Amphytrion prevented from enter- 
 ing his own house, — and that by the agency of Dromio; in Plautus 
 Jupiter addresses Mercury — tu divine Sosia — directly, and orders him 
 to refuse ingress to Amphytrion. 
 
 Sc. iv is a long dialogue between Jupiter and Dromio and, of 
 course, is in its entirety an addition. 
 
 Sc. V Mercury solus. This is a much modified version of Act IV, 
 Sc. i, of the Amphitruo.^ Mercury explains how he and Dromio will 
 keep Amphytrion out. In the Amphitruo Mercury indulges in some 
 swaggering declarations of his divinity, and explains to us how duti- 
 ful a son he is, — all of which is omitted in Tlie Birthe of Hercules. 
 
 Act IV, Sc. i, corresponds in general to Scs. ii and iii' of the 
 Amphitruo, but the whole is greatly lengthened and the plot much 
 complicated by the fact that Dromio plays an important part here. 
 
 Sc. ii. The opening speech corresponds to the last speech of Sc. 
 iii in Plautus. The rest follows Sc. iv of Plautus with numerous 
 changes. For example, Amphytrion's monologue is much shortened 
 by the omission of the mythological details. 
 
 Sc. iii follows Scs. v and vi of Plautus rather closely. Amphyt- 
 rion's bitter protest: "But I am Amphitruo, the miserable. Sir, you 
 shall not take this from me," etc., is an addition. The concluding 
 speech by Amphytrion is much expanded, and does not follow the last 
 part of the corresponding speech in Plautus. 
 
 Act V, Sc. i, is an almost literal translation of Sc. i of the Amphit- 
 ruo, only a few unimportant changes being introduced. The chief of 
 these is the omission of the first two sentences of Bromia's speech. 
 The latter part of the scene, however, — the dialogue between 
 Amphytrion and Dromio is, of course, an addition. 
 
 Scs. ii, iii, iv, and v — Jupiter's explanation — correspond to Sc. ii 
 of the Amphitruo — not a word-for-word translation, however 
 
 » The Teubner text does not divide Scs. iii and iv of Plautus. 
 
 • The Teuhner text gives only one short scene— the final one between Blephara 
 and Amphytrion— to Act IV, but the division of Echard and Thornton here fol- 
 lowed seems the more logical. 
 
 3 Here at line 1035 begins the part which many scholars believe not to have 
 been written by Plautus. 
 
NOTES 171 
 
 We may now sum up the results of the above analysis. Nearly 
 one-third of the English play is quite independent of Plautus, to such 
 Ian extent has the author made use of the idea of introducing a second 
 servant — Dromio. But in no sense has this important change modi- 
 fied the general conception of characters or plot. Here we have sub- 
 stantially perfect correspondence, and the order of development is 
 rigidly adhered to. In many places, as we have noted, it is a case of 
 almost literal translation, though ordinarily the author has not hesi- 
 tated to curtail, expand, or alter his original to suit his own purpose. 
 As compared to Plautus, he is much more interested in the elaboration 
 ,of a comic situation than in the development of the plot, and his suc- 
 cessive expansions and curtailings have usually been in accordance 
 with this predilection, which carries in itself the explanation of his 
 insertion of the role played by Dromio. The genuinely diverting char- 
 acter of the play is the all-sufficient justification of the English 
 author's departure from his original. As to the greater improbability 
 which is thus introduced, we may accept here iSchlegel's defence of 
 Shakspere's similar procedure in his Comedy of Errors-. "When 
 once we have lent ourselves to the first, which certainly borders on the 
 incredible, we should not probably be disposed to cavil about the 
 second ; and if the spectator is to be entertained with mere perplex- 
 ities they cannot be too much varied." 
 
 Page 99: line 13. Clapt by Consults and emperors. "Now so hlghlle were 
 comedies esteemed in those dales that men of great honor and grave account were 
 the Actors, the Senate and the Counsuls contlnxiallie present, as auditors at all 
 such sports. ..." Francesca's Fortunes, or the Second Part of Greene's Ifever 
 too Late, ed. Grosart, Vol. VIII, p. 131. 
 
 99: 18. Borras tale. * 'Probably a form of 'Borrer—rade or clown- 
 ish. From burellns, coarse cloth ; in which sense horrel is also used by 
 Chaucer." — Nares. The word is also written &oreZ or &t<reZ. Cf. 
 "But, sires, by-cause I am a burel ma.Ji."— Canterbury Tales. F. 716. 
 i.e., rough or unlettered. 
 
 99: 22. Inkhome wordes. "To use inkhorn terms, i.e., to write 
 affectedly and use fine language. " — Halliwell. The term was in very 
 
 common use. 
 
 Men, that removed from their inkehorne termes 
 Bring forth no action worthie of their bread. 
 
 Summer's Last Will and Testament, Nash's Works 
 ed. Grosart Vol. VI, p. 146. 
 
 99 : 26. Bycause ould fhinges are stale. Cf . 
 
 " Alonso of Aragon was wont to say in commendation of age, that age appears 
 to be best in four things,— old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to 
 trust, and old authors to read."— Bacon, Apothegms. No. 97. 
 
 99: 32. Orandame Jone and Grandsire John. In The Trial of 
 Treasure (Dodsley III, p. 276), Inclination the Vice says: 
 
 Now, by my halidom, it is alone a : 
 
 Better sport in my life I never saw. 
 
 It is trim I tell you to dance with John and Jone a, 
 
 We pass not a point for God and his law. 
 
 In Ulpian Fulwell's Like will to Like (Dodsley III, p. 317), the Vice 
 addresses someone in the audience as "Jone with the long snout," and 
 
172 NOTES 
 
 again (p. 332) as "gentle Jone." "'John-and-Joan^' was the cant phra8e> 
 for an hermaphrodite. 
 
 100: 34. A translated sute, i.e., they like an imported suit of clothes 
 but not a foreign play. 
 
 100 : 51. Joue himself, who, raine he or hould he up, pleases not all. 
 Cf. the following passage from Erasmus's Colloquies (Trans. by N.Bailey, 
 Reeves and Turner, London, 1878): "For you know that saying of 
 Theocritus that was as truly as it was wittily said Jovem nee pluvium 
 nee serenum placere omnibus; That Jupiter does not please all Men 
 either when he sends Rain or fair Weather," Vol. II, p. 256 The 
 quotation is not from Theocritus but from Theognis, 25-26. He is say- 
 ing that he can not hope to please everybody — "For not even Zeus 
 pleases all whether he gives or holds back the rain." 
 
 0^5^ yap 6 Zei>$ 
 oCd* t5wv Tavreffff &v Sdv€i oinr* 
 
 wad again he says in line 803: "Not even Zeus, the son of Ej*ono8r 
 who rules over mortals and immortals, can please all men." 
 
 101 : 1. You would thinke yt were dale, etc. Plays ordinarily began 
 Hbout three o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 101: 15. One of the maddest prankes. The hero of Ja4ik Juggler 
 characterizes that play in similar terms: 
 
 And now, if all things happen right, 
 
 You shall see as mad a pastime this night. 
 
 As you saw this seven years.— Dodsley, II, p. 113. 
 
 *01 : 23. Teleboians. "Taphiae Insulae — a number of small islands in 
 the Ionian Sea, lying between the coasts of Leucadia and Acarnania. 
 They were also called the islands of the Teleboae, and their inhabit- 
 ants were in like manner named Taphii or Teleboae." — Smith's 
 Classical Dictionary. 
 
 102: 39, 42. For faile; for disturheing. "For" is used in the sense 
 of **for fear of" or "to prevent." The usage is common in Chaucer, 
 6hakspere, and many early authors. Cf. 
 
 He yet lies with his mother for catching cold. 
 
 MotJier Bombie, Ltly's Works, ed. Fairholt, Vol. II, p. 81. 
 or 
 
 He wolde the see were kept for anything 
 
 Chaucbb, Prologue, 1. 276. 
 
 103: 10. What skilt youf What does it concern you? What busi- 
 ness is it of yours? Cf . 
 
 Let them sit still : it skills them not what chance come on the dice. 
 
 Complaint of the absence of her lover being on the sea, Sitbbkt. 
 
 103: 17. A knavish skonce. "Skonce" means "head," or "skull." 
 
 One, Onaphets, had broken his knave's sconce. 
 
 Damon and PUhias (Dodsley, Vol. IV, p. 65). 
 
 Here it is used rather in the sense of "wit," "disposition." Cf. 
 
 Laudo ingenium. I like thy skonce. 
 
 Mother Bombie, LTLY'S Works, Vol. II, p. 90. 
 
NOTES na 
 
 104: 31. Well Countenanced. Handsome, good-looking. The word 
 "coiintenanced" was used to denote a portrait. This is an example of 
 the adjective in -ed; cf. the appendix to Schmidt's Shakespeare 
 Lexicon for examples. 
 
 106: 120. Interteine a man of free cost at the signe of the Cudgell. 
 Cf. the possibly similar expression, "Jack Drum's entertainment,'* 
 The Three Ladies of London (Dodsley VI, p. 324); "John Drum's 
 entertainment"— ^Zrs Well That Ends Well (Act III, Sc. vi). A third 
 variation of the name is given in Holinshed — "Tom Drum, his enter- 
 tainment, which is to hole a man by the head and thrust him out by 
 both the shoulders." Cf. also, "Are you disposed to eat any fist- 
 meat?" — Jack Juggler, Grosart ed., p. 47. 
 
 107: 144. Tis a Cudgell for the nance, i.e., "just right"; "exactly 
 suited to the occasion. " 
 
 107: 158. At a venture, i.e., at random, as in Shakspere or the King 
 James version of the Bible. The use in the present connection seems 
 a little peculiar. 
 
 107: 169. A monstrous euill takinge, i.e., predicament. 
 
 Look ye, sirrah, where your fellow lies; 
 He's in a fine taking, is he not? 
 The Two Angry Women of Abington, Dodslbt, Vol. VII, p. 808. 
 What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket. 
 
 The Merry Wives of Windsor III. ill. 191. 
 We are all in sad taking with influenza. 
 
 Fboude, Jane Welsh Carlyle, Vol. I, p. 49. 
 
 108: 178. Home an you will, hut lantemein your face. Sosia seems 
 to be attempting a pun on the word "lanthorn," — "a popular spelling 
 simulating horn, in supposed allusion to the transparent plates of horn 
 which often formed the sides of lanterns." — Century Diet. 
 
 108: 187. Bridle that tounge, etc. Similar naive wit, introducing^ 
 the "horse," "ass," and the expression "to bridle the tongue," is to be 
 found in The Trial of Treasure, Dodsley, Vol. Ill, pp. 278-280. 
 
 109: 229. Ivjill giue you a bombastinge, i.e., a beating. 
 
 I will so codgel and bombaste thee as thou shalte not be able to sturre thyself e. 
 
 Palace of Pleasure, Vol. I, p. 151. 
 
 110: 253. Would you were els for me. An interesting example of 
 this peculiar Elizabethan use of "els." Similarly used on page 125, — 
 "Would I were els for my owne sake." 
 
 110: 259. Stockfish. Sosia refers to the manner in which he has 
 been cudgelled. Beating was part of the process of curing stockfish, a 
 name which is applied to several kinds of fish, hard-dried and with- 
 out salt. The word is used a number of times by Shakspere and 
 Jonson. 
 
 I'll turn my mercy out o' doors and make a stock-fish of thee. 
 
 Tempest IIL 11. 79. 
 
 Slight, ];>eacel thou wilt be beaten like a stock-fish. 
 
 JSvery Man in His Humour, III, li. 
 
 110: 263. I would nothaue said Sosia; I would haue said 'Soe as 
 you saie.' Sosia's pun is at least worthy of its Latin original. Cf. 
 
 Me. Amphitruonis te esse aiebas Sosiam. So. Pecaueram: 'Amphitruoni& 
 socium' neme esse volul dicere. 
 
174 NOTES 
 
 113: 6. A kind of Bassiter, i.e., ambassador. Dromio may also be 
 attempting a punning reference to the game "Ambassador"— "a trick 
 to duck some ignorant fellow or landsman, frequently played on board 
 ship in the warm latitudes." — Brand, Popular Antiquities, VoL II, 
 p. 391. 
 
 114: 13. The backe-tricke. A kind^of dance. Cf. 
 
 I think I -have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.— 
 Twelfth mght I. iU. 131. 
 
 114: 15. The mayepole snikepace. It is difficult to tell "whether 
 this is a form due to Dromio, or whether the relative positions of the 
 "i" and "n" became accidentally changed in the manuscript. At any 
 rate Sink-a-pace — a corruption of cinque-pace — is intended. Cinque- 
 pace, see Nares S. V. There is possibly a quibble intended on the first 
 part of the word. Cf . 
 
 Wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque 
 pace.— ifwcA Ado II. i. 77. 
 
 114: 16. The wheelings galyard. A whirling dance often referred 
 to at this period. Cf . Jack Juggler's description of Alice Trip-and-Go: 
 
 She quavereth and warble th like one in a galliard. 
 
 114: 20. Tlie Amonde leaps. "Amonde" or "Almond" is a form of 
 the word "Almain," i.e., German. "Almain" is the more common 
 spelling in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. V. "Almain" in 
 Nsw English Dictionary: — B (substantive) 2. A kind of dance. . . . 
 1611, Cotgrave, S. V. Saut, Troispaslun saut, "The Almond leape." 
 
 114: Note. Ths Somsrsstshirs trick, i.e., to turn a somersault. 
 
 114: 36. With Dromio's description of the vessel's reaching even to 
 the "ferment," so that the mast might have made a hole in it, compare 
 the Clown's speech in Ths Winter's Tals Ill.iii: 
 
 Now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with 
 yest and froth. 
 
 114: 42. Untestable. A Gobboism for "detestable." 
 
 114: 44. I wold willinglie haue groume to exposicion, etc., appar- 
 ently means, "I would willingly have made terms with," etc. 
 
 115: 57. Are ths 9 plansttss, etc. Cf. the telling of time by the posi- 
 tion of Charles's Wain in 1 Hsnry IV, II. i. Dromio has confused the 
 number of the planets and muses. Perhaps the latter were suggested 
 by "the seven sisters," i.e., the Pleiades. 
 
 115: 85. Knuckls dseps. Cf. "Knuckle deep in iaf—Mucedorus 
 (DODSLEY, Vol., VII, p. 240). "Knuckle deep in dirt.''— The Two Angry 
 Women (Dodsley, Vol. VII, p. 356). 
 
 116: 91. A mads man. Cf. "We had all been made men" (Midsum- 
 mer Night's Drsam IV. ii.l7), i.e., our fortunes would have been estab- 
 lished. 
 
 116: 110. I am vildly affraid. "Vild" and "vile" are different 
 forms of the same word. Cf . "vild disdain" ; "O that vild Usury !" etc. 
 
 118: 174. Parentsr I, parenter no. ''Parenter" and "paraunter" 
 are the same as "peraimter" — for "peradventure"— "perhaps. " 
 
 118: 186. A plains bais or a shsspss russstt. "Bay" and "sheep's 
 
NOTES 175 
 
 Tusset' ' were about the same color — reddish or brownish red. Cf . ' 'Here 
 is a good sheep's russet sea-gowne, will hide more stresse, I warrant 
 you than two of his." — TJie True Chronicle History of King Leir 
 {B.azi.itt's Shajcespeare's Library, Vol. VI, p. 367. Also "Grigietto, a 
 fine graie or sheepes russet." — Florio, Worlds of Wordes (1598). 
 
 123. Compare with this conversation between Aicumena and Thes- 
 sala the opening scene of the Stichus. 
 
 124: 59. Honour . . is hut a shadowe. The speech suggests Fal- 
 staff's famous soliloquy, 1 Henry IV, V.i. 
 
 126 : 47. Flapp me in the teeth. A common expression of the time. 
 Cf. 
 
 Rascall dost flappe me in the mouth with tailer 
 And tell'st thou me of haberdasher's Ware? 
 
 Rowlands, Knave of Hearts (1613). 
 
 130: 89. And 'take, i. e., an[d] it take— if it take. 
 
 131: 120. This night, i.e., "last night." Cf. "I did dream ... to- 
 night." — Merchant of Venice II. v. 18. 
 
 131 : 132. Controule — Used in the rare sense of "to have superior 
 force or authority over." — Century Diet. 
 
 135 : 268. My Lo, i.e. , My Lord. Cf. "I have attayned to please those 
 I seeke if I please your La" (Ladyship). — Retrospective Review, Vol. 
 II, p- 153 (cir. 1572). 
 
 138: 10. To haue her hloud attempted, i.e., to have an attack made 
 on her life. 
 
 139: 67. Well, Ladye, this is once, etc., i.e., Let us be definite about 
 it since we wish to understand each other's position clearly. 
 
 139: 68. Out of hand, directly, without delay. "Gather we our 
 forces out of hand."— 7 Hemnj VT, III. ii. 
 
 140: 1. You tooke me even in my caste sir. "To speak in a man's 
 cast" means "to speak during his part; to interrupt. " N.E.D. Cast. sb. 
 26b. Cf. 
 
 If I may speak in your cast, quoth Issida.— Lyly, Euphuee, 
 
 141 : 30. With a tryce — an older form of "in a trice." 
 144: 117. Capperclawe, or caperclaw, or clapperclaw — "to beat, 
 claw, and scratch. " Cf. 
 
 He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. 
 
 The Merry Wives of Windsor II. iii, 67. 
 
 145: 136. Ouerseene, i.e., deceived (Obsolete). Cf. "overshoot." 
 
 145:159. TJiou shalt—thou shalt. Possibly a scribe's unintentional 
 repetition. 
 
 147: 20. Imaruell what time of djxie tis with him. "Time of daie," 
 is here used as a slang phrase denoting "the latest aspect of affairs.'* 
 — Century Diet. 
 
 148: 58. These high Countries, i.e., of course on the roof. 
 
 148:59. Thou art ouldsuer shy. Possibly a reference to Sym Suresby 
 of Ralph Roister Doister 
 
 149 : 72. Forfeyture. Dromio probably means ' 'feature, " oi possibly 
 "counterfeit," i.e., likeness. 
 
176 NOTES 
 
 149 : 80. In good time, sir. Evidently in about the same sense as 
 the Elizabethan "Anon, Sir." Cf. "in good time" (Romeo and Juliet 
 I. ii. 47); *'in happy time" (Romeo and Juliet iii. 5), and the French 
 phrase, d la bonne heure. 
 
 149: 84. ^2^ and 6?/, i.e., presently. 
 
 149 : 85. An you get you not awaie the soner. Cf . also (p. 150). . . if 
 thou doest not spitt yt out the soner. The meaning is evident, and sim- 
 ilar expressions seem to have been fairly common. Cf. "Go not my 
 horse the better" (Macbeth III. i. 25). V. note to Clarendon Press edi- 
 tion of Macbeth. 
 
 149: 103. An Incony place. "A cant word prevalent about 1600 of 
 unascertained origin" (N.E.D.). * 'Incony" means *'rare," "fine," 
 * 'pretty." Cf. 
 
 O superdainty canon, vicar incony. 
 
 Ben Jonson, 2'ale of a Tub, IV, i. 
 
 149: 110. Floute . . . in high dutch, i.e., simply in German. 
 
 150: 119. Ich bringe euch unudt. The last word seems quite 
 unintelligible. 
 
 150: 120. Very good fustian. "Fustian" is bombastic or inflated 
 language. Cf. 
 
 God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. 
 
 Marlowe, Doctor Faustus, p. 85. 
 
 150: 139. A phillipp on the coxcombe. "A rap on the head." Cf. 
 
 Then sith man's life is as a glass, and a filip may crack it, etc. 
 
 Soliman and Perseda (Dodsley, Vol. V, p. 346). 
 
 151: 155. And soe forth. Probably a direction to the actor to 
 improvise. Such directions are not uncommon in Elizabethan plays. 
 
 153 : 17. Recoumpt or recompt — obsolete forms of recount. 
 
 154: 46. As good sone as signe, i.e., you might as well go now as 
 later. Cf. the expression "sooner syne," i.e., sooner or later. The 
 expression is evidently proverbial. 
 
 155: 98. Lawe. A variation of the inter jectional "La!" — now 
 vulgar. * 
 
 156: 4. Reakes, an old word for "pranks." "To play rea?— to play 
 the king; act despotically or with violence; handle a person roughly; 
 "play the mischief." This phrase probably alludes to the Rex, or 
 king, in the early English plays, a character marked by more or less 
 violence. The noun in time lost its literal meaning, and was often 
 spelled reaks, reeks (keep a reaks, etc.), and used as if meaning 
 ' 'tricks. ''—Century Diet. Cf . 
 
 To suffer such a caytifC to play such Rex.— Spenser, State of Ireland. 
 
 Love with Rage kept such a reakes that I thought they would have gone mad 
 together.— Breton, Dream of Strange Effects, p. 17. 
 
 158 : 80. Pistolettes [=G. pistole='Pg. pistola, < F. pistole, a pistole]. 
 "The name was afterwards applied to the gold coins of other countries 
 especially of Spain. ' '—Century Diet. The value of the pistole of various 
 countries varied from about §3.45 to $5.55. 
 
NOTES 177 
 
 "Pistolets,— S. diminutive of pistoles, a Spanish coin, not rounded, 
 or formed with exactness." — Nares. 
 
 We offered some reward in pistolets unto tlie servant. 
 
 Bacon, New Atlantis (works, Montagu ed.. Vol. I, p. 256). 
 
 161 : 17. Iverylie thought yt had bene on a light fier. Cf. also, page 
 165. Ben Jonson uses the same expression: "Fasting days! What tell 
 you me of fasting-days? 'Slid, would they were all on a light fire for 
 me. " — Every Man in His Humour, III, 2, p. 31, Gifford-Cunningham ed. 
 An interesting persistence of the expression is in the Scotch phrase **a 
 light low." V. Ouy Manner ing, p. 78, Centenary edition. Cf., also, 
 "Oh, the house must be all in a light blaze inside!"— Mary E. Wilkins, 
 The Jamesons, p. 9, N. Y., 1899. 
 
 162 : 44. My wief hath taken order with me for my wellfare. The 
 phrase "to take order" meant "to take suitable action or measures,'* 
 "to provide for," and is now obsolete. Cf. 
 
 Provide me soldiers, lords, 
 Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. 
 
 2 Henry VI, III. 1. 320. 
 
 168: 80. Choppinge, stout, lusty, plump, bouncing. 
 
 How say you now, gossip 
 Is't not a chopping girl? 
 
 MXDDLETON, Chaste Maid, Hi, b. (Century Diet.). 
 
 163: 88. The base courte. "A secondary or inferior court or yard, 
 generally at the back of a house, opposed to the chief court or main 
 quadrangle; a farm-yard. "—Cenfz*ry Diet Cf. the French basse-cour, 
 
 165. de coeU) histrioni[c]o — i.e., the stage representation of heaven. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Acolastus, 47, 49, 57, 58, 85. 
 
 Adelphi, 78. 
 
 Aeschines, 9. 
 
 Age, The Silver, etc., 90, 91, 92. 
 
 Albion's England,\M. 
 
 Alphonms, King of Aragon, 79. 
 
 Amadis of France, 63. 
 
 Ambrose, Saint, 14. 
 
 Amphitruo, 21, 22, 24, 25, 32, 33, 34, 35, 66, 
 
 70, 72, 73, 75, 78, 79, 86, 88, 89, 91, 92, 95. 
 Anstey, The Rev. Henry, 9. 
 Andria, 28, 39, 74, 80, 84. 
 Antwerp, 57. 
 Appius and Virginia, 72. 
 Arabic, 8. 
 
 Archipropheta, 40, 46, 49. 
 Aretino, 61, 63, 85. 
 Ariosto,55, 58, 61,62, 64. 
 Aristotle, 9, 57. 
 Artour, Thomas, 39. 
 Ascham, Roger, 16, 26, 62. 
 Asinaria, 60, 66. 
 Auberinus, Caius, 10. 
 Auckland, College of, 10. 
 AululaHa, 20, 21, 22, 25, 27, 61, 86, 93, 94. 
 Austen, Saint, 10, 14. 
 Avignon, Consistory of, 8. 
 
 B 
 
 Bacchides, 60, 69. 
 
 Baker, Professor, 74, 75, 77 
 
 Bale, John, 39, 48, 49. 
 
 Balliol College, 11. 
 
 Bandello, 62, 84. 
 
 Barbarus, Hermolaus, 21. 
 
 Barclay, Alexander, 45. 
 
 Bariwna, Laurentius, 54. 
 
 Barnes, Robert, 24. 
 
 Bedford, Duke of, 9. 
 
 Bellum Grammaticale, 69. 
 
 Benedict, Abbot of Peterborough, 7, 20. 
 
 Beowulf, 30. 
 
 Birthe of Hercules, The, 66, 84, 90 
 
 Black Death, 8. 
 
 Blakiston, H. E. D., 7 
 
 Boccaccio, 9, 62, 70. 
 
 Borgia, Lucrezla, 60, 
 
 Botoner, William, 10. 
 
 Brandesby, 26. 
 
 Brandl, 29, 32, 51, 53, 55, 56, 57. 
 
 Brandt, Sebastian, 45. 
 Brasenose College, 12, 23. 
 Brooke, Arthur, 62. 
 Buchanan, 49. 
 Bucolics, 84. 
 Burrows, 1 1, 23. 
 
 Caesar, 73. 
 
 Calisto and Meliboea, 29. 
 
 Cambises, 73. 
 
 Cambridge, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16, 16, 18, 24, 96. 
 
 27, 39, 40, 44, 69, 70. 
 Camden Society, 15, 17. 
 Campaspe, 74. 
 Capgrave, 9. 
 
 Captivi, 37, 49, 55, 56, 65, 66, 76, 80, 94. 
 Carpenter, Professor F. I., 89. 
 Case is Altered, The, 95. 
 Casina, 25, 61, 76. 
 Cato. 9. 
 Catullus, 78. 
 Caxton, 10, 22, 28. 
 Chaderton, William, 18. 
 Chalcondyles, Demetrius, 11. 
 Chasles, 20. 
 Chaucer, 9. , 
 
 Cheke, Sir John, 16, 18, 26. 
 Cheney, Richard, 17. 
 Child, Professor, 38. 
 Chilianus, 46. 
 Christ Church, 40. 
 
 "Christian Terence" plays, 46, 49, 50. 
 Christopherson, John, 39, 49. 
 Christ's College, 48. 
 Christus Redivivus, 40. 
 Christus Triumphans, 49. 
 Churchill, George B., 48. 
 Cicero, 9, 10, 24, 26, 27, 32, 40, 69, 73. 
 Cinthio, Giraldi, 66, 
 Gintia, La, 70, 
 Cistellaria, 59. 
 Claudian, 36. 
 Cloetta, 21, 22. 
 Codrus, 21. 
 Colet, 13, 14, 18. 
 Collectanea, 8, 11, 23. 
 Comedy of Errors, The, 68, 86, 87, 88, 89. 
 Collier, 29, 40, 45, 64, 86. 
 Cometographia, 54. 
 
 Cooper's Athenae Cantabrigienses, 39, 40. 
 Cooper, W. D„ 40. 
 
180 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Cornelius Agrippa, 85. 
 Corpus Christ!, 12, 23. 
 Cox, Leonard, 39. 
 Craik, 15. 
 Crelzenach, 21, 22. 
 Crocus, 47, 49. 
 Cromwell, 13, 15, 48. 
 CurcuUo, 59, 78. 
 Cusanus, Nikolaus, 21. 
 
 D 
 
 Damon and Pithiae, 63, 64. 
 
 Dante, 9, 22. 
 
 Desiderata Curiosa, 18. 
 
 Dido, 14, 39. 
 
 Digby Mysteries, 30, 36. 
 
 Disobedient Child, The, 50, 51. 
 
 Divina Commedia, 22. 
 
 Dodsley, 29,33, 50, 72, 73. 
 
 Dolce, 62. 
 
 Dorothea, 46. 
 
 Douay, 57. 
 
 Douglas, Gawain, 10. 
 
 Duns Scotus, 13. 
 
 Dtirham, 36. 
 
 Dyce, 22, 23,i92. 
 
 Edward VI, 16, 29, 32, 51. 
 
 Edwards, Richard, 53, 63. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 16, 19, 27, 39, 40, 53, 78, 
 
 87. 
 Elyot, Sir Thomas, 24, 25, 79. 
 Endimion, 73. 74, 77. 
 Ennlus, 80. 
 Epidamnus, 87. 
 Epidicus, 60, 76. 
 Erasmus, 11, 12, 18, 25, 27. 
 d'Este, Alfonso, 60. 
 Ethiopian History, The, 63. 
 Eton, 14, 27, 89, 40, 84. 
 Eunuchus, 24, 51, 65, 69, 70, 76, 79, 84. 
 Euripides, 26. 
 
 Every Man in his Humour, 83, 95, 96. 
 Every Man Out of His Humour, &5. 
 
 Fantesca, La, 70. 
 
 Ferrara, 22, 60, 65. 
 
 Fitz-Ralph of Armagh, Archbishop, 8. 
 
 Fleay, 64. 
 
 Fleetwoode, William, 67. 
 
 Flemming, 79. 
 
 Flemmyng, Robert, 11. 
 
 Fletcher, C. R. L,., 8. 
 
 Fowler, 12, 23. 
 
 Fox, Bishop of Winchester, 12. 
 
 Fox's Acts and Monuments, 24. 
 
 Foxe's Christus Triumphans, 49. 
 
 France, 9, 10, 20, 60. 
 French, 9, 10, 45, 63, 67. 
 Fuller, 15. 
 Fullonius, 47. 
 
 G 
 
 Qammer\Gurton's Needle, 30. 
 Gandersheim, The nun of, £0, 46. 
 Gardiner, Chancellor of Cambridge, 48. 
 Gascoigne, George, 27, 57, 58, 62, 64. 
 Georgics, 84. 
 
 Germanic Philology, Journal of, 54. 
 Germany, 21, 29, 38, 89, 44, 67, and chapter 
 
 Y passim. 
 Gesta, Grayorum, 87. 
 Geta, 21. 
 Gifford, 95, 96. 
 
 Glasse of Governm£nt, 27, 57, 58. 
 Glastonbury Abbey, 7. 
 Gnapheus, 47, 49. 
 Golden Ass, The, 63. 
 Golding, 79. 
 Googe, 79. 
 
 Gosson, Stephen, 63,78. 
 Governour, The Boke named the, 24. 
 Graf, 30. 
 
 Gray, William, 11. 
 Grey, Lady Jane, 16. 
 Greece, 61, 77. 
 
 Greek, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 16, 17, 23, 88, 37, 62. 
 Greene, Robert, 73, 79, 80. 
 Grimalde, Nicholas, 40, 49. 
 Grocyn, William, 11, 14, 18, 23. 
 
 Hales, Professor, 40. 
 
 Halliwell, 90. 
 
 Harrington, Sir John, 69. 
 
 Harvey, Gabriel, 17, 78. 
 
 Hazlitt, 10, 24, 27, 29, 33, 64, 66, 72, 73, 84, 
 
 90,. 92, 93. 
 Heautontimorumenos, 49, 78. 
 Hebrew, 8. 
 Hecatommithi, 66. 
 Heidelberg, 58. 
 Henno, 46. 
 
 Henry VIII, 13, 1.'), 26. 
 Henry of Winchester, 7, 20. 
 Henslowe's Diary, 90. 
 Herford, Professor, 40, 45, 46, 47, 48, B7, 
 
 58, 82, 96. 
 Heywood, John, 36, 37, 38, 53, 59. 
 Hey wood, iThomas, 90. 
 Higgins, John, 40, 77, 85. 
 Hispanus, 70. 
 History of Error, The, 86. 
 Hoker, John, 39. 
 Holinshed, 23. 
 Holland, 46, 58. 
 
INDEX 
 
 181 
 
 Homer, 73. 
 
 Horace, 10, 40. 
 
 Hrotsvitha, 20, 46. 
 
 Huber, 18. 
 
 Humphrey of Gloucester, 9, 16. 
 
 Eymenaeus, 70. 
 
 Ingannati, 69. 
 
 Ingelend, Thomas, 50. 
 
 Ipswich, 14. 
 
 Isocrates, 26. 
 
 / Suppositi, 55, 56, 61, 62, 64, 69. 
 
 Italian, 9, 10, 19, 21, 53, 72 and chapter vi 
 
 passim. 
 Italy, 11, 14, 21, 48, 53 and chapter vi 
 
 passim. 
 
 Jacob and Esau, The History of, 51, 53. 
 
 Jack Juggler, 29, 32, 33, 35. 36, 37, 41. 
 
 James I, 30. 
 
 Jephtha, 39. 
 
 Jerome, Saint, 14, 21. 
 
 Jew of Malta, The, 80. 
 
 Jocasta, 62. 
 
 Johnson, La"vn*ence, 54. 
 
 John a Kent and John a Cumber, 92. 
 
 Jonson, Ben, 19, 77, 81, 82, 83, 87, 94, 95, 96. 
 
 Jusserand, 8, 30, 32. 
 
 Juvenal, 10. 
 
 Keller, Wolfgang, 4& 
 Kemp, 81. 
 
 Kildare, Earl of,26. 
 King's College, 27. 
 Kirchmayer, 47, 48. 
 Kittredge, Professor, 53, 54. 
 Klein, 22. 
 Knight, 14. 
 Kyffln, Maurice, 84. 
 KyngeJohan, 48. 
 
 Labyrinthus, 70. 
 
 Laelia, 69. 
 
 Latimer, 16, 17, 25, 
 
 Layton, Richard, 13. 
 
 Leander, 70. 
 
 Lee, Sidney, 40. 
 
 Leicester, 8. 
 
 Leo, Pope, 61. 
 
 Leto, Pomponio, 22. 
 
 Lily, George, 11, 13, 14, 18. 
 
 Linacre, 18, 23. 
 
 Livy, 7, 9. 
 
 Loonus, Gulielmus, 44. 
 
 Louvain, 24. 
 
 Love's Labour's Lost, 92. 
 
 Lowndes, 28. 
 
 Lucian, 10, 27, 93. 
 
 Luther, 45. 
 
 Lyly, John, 19, 73, 74, 75, 77, 81, 82, 86. 
 
 Lyte, H. C. Maxwell, 12, 23, 39. 
 
 M 
 
 Macchiavelli, 61. 
 
 Macropedius, 47, 49, 51. 
 
 Madan, 28. 
 
 Madden, 20. 
 
 Manual for the Collector and Amateur of 
 
 Old Plays, 90. 
 Manly, The Pre-Shaksperean Drama, 'il. 
 Marlowe, Christopher, 80. 
 Marriage of Wit and Science, The, 72. 
 Martial, 78. 
 Martin Guerra, 78. 
 Measure for Measure, 66. 
 Menaechmi, 22, 55, 65, 78, 79, 84, 85, 86, 87. 
 
 88,89. 
 Menander, 69, 70. 
 Mercator, 29, 70, 70. 
 Merry Wives of Windsor, The, 86. 
 Microcosmus, 39. 
 
 Miles Oloriosus, 30, 41, 60, 74, 80, 85, 86. 
 Mirror for Magistrates, 19. 
 Misogonus, 53, 55, 56, 57, 64. 
 Modern Terence plays, 46, 49. 
 Modern Language Publications, 40, 64. 
 Monasteries, 15. 
 
 Morality Plays, 36, 37, 45, 51, 72, 82. 
 More, Sir Thomas, 12, 18, 23, 24, 35. 
 Mostellaria. £5, 66, 74, 86. 
 Mother Bombie, 75, 76, 77, 86. 
 Mullinger, J. Bass, 10. 
 Mundus Plumbeus, 39. 
 Munimenta Academica, 9, 10. 
 Mystery Plays, 30, 32, 36. 
 
 N 
 Nash, 85. 
 
 Neo-Latin plays, 44 and chapter v pas- 
 sim. 
 New College, 8. 
 Nichols, 27, S9, 87. 
 Nice Wanton, 51. 
 Norwich, 15. 
 
 Old Wives' Tales, The, 80. 
 
 Oriel College Library, 8. 
 
 Orlando Furioso, 79. 
 
 Otranto, 65. 
 
 Ovid, 9, 22, 73, 78, 80. 
 
 Oxford, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16, 18. 
 
 Oxford Historical Society, 8, 11, 12, 23, 28, 
 
182 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Paedantius, 69. \ 
 
 Painter, William, 62. 
 
 Palace of Pleasure, 62, 63, 98. 
 
 Palsgrave, John, 47, 49. 
 
 Pammachius, 47, 48. 
 
 Paris, 11. 
 
 Pamel, Thomas, 24. 
 
 Peck, 18. 
 
 Peele, 80. 
 
 Pembroke Hall, 17. 
 
 Persa, 21. 
 
 Persius, 7. 
 
 Petrarch, 9, 21, 61. 
 
 Phaer, 79. 
 
 Phrea (Free), John 11. 
 
 Pilkington, James, 17. 
 
 Piscator, 39. 
 
 Plato, 9. 
 
 Plays Confuted in Five Actions, 63 . 
 
 Pliny, 9. 
 
 Plummer, C, 39, 
 
 Plutarch, 92, 93. 
 
 Poenulus, 55, 76. 
 
 Politlan, 11. 
 
 Polychronicon, 9. 
 
 Pomponius Laetus, 14, 22. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, 20. 
 
 Porta, Giovanni Baltista della, 70. 
 
 Premierfait, Laurent, 10. 
 
 Preston, Thomas, 73. 
 
 Priscian, 8. 
 
 Prodigal Son plays, 47. 49, 54, 55, 57. 
 
 Promos and Cassandra, 64, 66, 68, 69, 71. 
 
 Propertius, 78. 
 
 Prynne, 78. 
 
 Pseudolus, 51, 66, 80. 
 
 Pudsey, Hugh, 7. 
 
 Puttenham, 78. 
 
 Pynson, 28, 45. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices, 47- 
 
 Queen's CJoUege, 69. 
 Querolus, 20, 21. 
 Quintilian, 9, 10. 
 
 Radcliffe, Ralph, 39, 48, 49. 
 
 Ralph, Roister Doister, 37, 38, 40, 41, 43, 44, 
 
 55. \ 
 Rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune, 
 
 The, 73. 
 Kastell, Johes, 29. 36, 84. 
 Ratherius, 21. 
 Rebelles, 49, 51, 58. 
 Reinhardstoettner, 7, 30, 66, 86. 
 Renaissance, 8, 9, 15. 18, 19, 21, 27, 38, 60. 
 
 Retrospective Review, 26, 27, 39, 44. 
 
 Reuchlin, 46. 
 
 Rhodes, 14. 
 
 Rice, John ap, 13. 
 
 Rightwise, John, 14, 39, 45 
 
 Rolls Series, 9. 
 
 Rome, 21, 22, 60, 77. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet, 62. 
 
 Round Table, The, 63. 
 
 Rudens, 29, 76, 85, 86. 
 
 Rychardes, Thomas, 53. 
 
 s 
 
 Sallust, 7, 14. 
 
 Schoolmaster, The, 26, 62. 
 
 Scienna, 65. 
 
 Sellyng, William, 11. 
 
 Seneca, 7, 9, 44, 62, 70, 73, 78. 
 
 Shakspere, 19, 63, 64, 66, 72, 75, 86, 87, 
 
 92, 93, 98. 
 Shakespeare Jahrhuch, 69. 
 Sidney, Sir Philip, 67, 78, 81, 95. 
 Silvanus, 70. 
 Skelton, 22, 31. 
 Skealethia, 92. 
 Slaughter, Martin, 90. 
 Smith, Sir Thomas, 16, 18, 26. 
 Sophocles, 26. 
 Spanish, 29, 63, 67. 
 St. Paul's, 13, 14, 45. 
 Statins, 10. 
 Stichus, 76, 93. 
 Strype's Memoirs, 16, 17. 
 Studentes, 49, 50, 58. 
 Stylpho, 46. 
 Stymmelius, 49, 50. 
 Suetonius, 9. 
 Sulpitius, 14. 
 Supposes, The, 64. 
 Surrey, Earl of, 19, 61. 
 Surtees Society Publications, 7, 10. 
 Syculus, Dyadorus, 23. 
 Symonds, J. A., 61. 
 Syracuse, 87. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew, The, 64, 85. 
 
 Tancred and Gismunda, 62, 72. 
 
 Tanner, 84. 
 
 Tarentum, 87. 
 
 Tarlton, 81. 
 
 Ther sites, 29, 30, 81, 32, 36, 74. 
 
 Thomeson, Wiiliam, 10. 
 
 Tibullus, 78. 
 
 Timon of Athens, 92. 93. 
 
 Tiptoft, John, 10, 11, 
 
 Tolman, Professor A. H., 64 
 
 TotteVs Miscellany, 19. 
 
 Towneley Plays, 36. 
 
INDEX 
 
 183 
 
 Trinummus, 66, 86. 
 Truculentus, 93. 
 Tubingen, 13. 
 Tully, 7, 10, 14, 22, 27. 
 Tusser, 50. 
 Twyne, 79. 
 
 Udall, 20, 40, 43, 44, 48, 50, 77, 84.1 
 University Wits, 27 and chapter vii 
 
 passim. 
 Utopia, 23, 24, 25. 
 
 Venice, 70. 
 
 Vergil, 7, 9, 10, 14, 22, 27, 73. 
 
 Vital de Blois, 21. 
 
 Vitelli, 11. 
 
 Voigt, 9. 
 
 w 
 
 Wakefield, Robert, 13. 
 Ward, Hist. Eng. Dram. Lit., 64, 73, 75, 
 76,90. 
 
 Warner, William, 84. 
 
 Warton, 10, 11, 12, 13, 20, 24, 40, 77, 78, 84. 
 
 Webbe, William, 78, 79, 84. 
 
 Westminster, 40. 
 
 Whetstone, George, 66, 68, 95. 
 
 Williams, Thomas, 17. 
 
 V/illiam de Wykeham, 8. 
 
 Wilmot, Robert, 62, 72. 
 
 Wilson, Robert, 53. p 
 
 Wimpheling, Jacob, 46. 
 
 Winchester College, 8. 
 
 Winchester, 14, 17. 
 
 Wittenberg, 85. 
 
 Wolsey, Cardinal, Vi, 14, 15. 
 
 W. W., 84, 86. 
 
 Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 19, 61. 
 
 Xenophon, 40. 
 
 Young, Dr., 17. 
 
 Zelotypus, 70. 
 
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