The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Sixteenth Century and The Early Seventeenth Century [10 ed.] 0393603121, 9780393603125

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which he willed to be honored and not to be conceived, that by it also he mought® be marvelous unto us. Those secrets of his will which he hath determined to be opened unto us, he hath disclosed in his Word: and he hath determined, so

far as he foresaw to pertain to us and to be profitable for us.’ x

Ox

There be other which, when they have a will to remedy this evil,® do com-

mand all mention of predestination to be in a manner buried: at the least they teach men to flee from every manner of questioning thereof as from a rock. Although the moderation of these men be herein worthily to be praised, that they judge that mysteries should be tasted of with such sobriety, yet because they descend too much beneath the mean,’ they little prevail with the wit of man, which doth not lightly suffer! itself to be restrained. Therefore, that in this behalf also we may keep a right end,” we must return to the Word of the Lord, in which we have a sure rule of understanding. For the Scripture is the school of the Holy Ghost, in which as nothing is left out which is both necessary and profitable to be known, so nothing is taught but that which is behoveful’ to learn. Whatsoever therefore is uttered in the Scripture concerning predestination, we must beware that we debar not the faithful from it, lest we should seem either enviously* to defraud them of the benefit of their God or to blame and accuse the Holy Ghost, who hath published those things which it is in any wise® profitable to be suppressed. %

That, therefore, which the Scripture clearly showeth, we say that God by eternal and unchangeable counsel hath once appointed whom in time to come he would take to salvation, and on the other side whom he would con-

demn to destruction. This counsel as touching the elect,° we say to be grounded upon his free mercy, without any respect of’ the worthiness of man: but whom he appointeth to damnation, to them by his judgment (which about predestination than Scripture teaches.

1. Pertinacity, stubborn persistence.

2. In this regard. 3. Inner chambers. 4. Fitting. 5. And to search out from eternity itself the sublimest wisdom. 6. Might. “Conceived”: understood. 7. I.e., God has let us know, in the Scriptures, as much about these matters as he foresaw would be useful for us to know. 8. Le.,

the

audacious

attempt

to

learn

more

9. Le., fall short of the appropriate middle ground (“mean”). 1. Permit. “Wit”: intellect. 2. Keep within proper bounds. 3. Useful, advantageous. 4. Out ofjealously; maliciously. 5. In any way. 6. Those predestined to salvation. 7. Regard toward.

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is indeed just and irreprehensible but also incomprehensible) the entry of life is foreclosed. Now in the elect we set vocation to be the testimony® of election; and then justification’ to be another sign of the manifest showing of it, till they come to glory, wherein is the fulfilling of it. But as by vocation and election God marketh his elect, so by shutting out the reprobate! either from the knowledge of his name or from the sanctification of his spirit, he doth as it were by these marks open what judgment abideth? for them. * * 1561 8. Evidence. “Vocation”: a calling; a predisposition to the religious life. 9. The state of being justified; i.e., freed from the

Romans 8.30: “whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom hejustified, them he also glorified.”

penalty of sin and accounted righteous by God. The underlying Scriptural text for this passage is

1. Those predestined to damnation. 2. Waits. “Open”: reveal.

ANNE

ASKEW

nthe 1540s, Henry VIII sought to return the English Church to a basically Catholic doctrinal position, and Protestants were subjected to persecution. The outspoken Protestant Anne Askew (1521-1546) was called in for questioning in 1545;

the next year, she was tortured on the rack and burned at the stake. Askew’s accounts of her two examinations were smuggled out of England by the reformer John Bale, who published them in Germany (1546—47). The texts were later incor-

porated into John Foxe’s Acts and Monuments (1563). Vivid first-person accounts like Askew’s were intended to bear witness to the astonishing courage and determination of a small group of ardent Protestants, men and women alike, who were willing to die for their convictions. (When the political tides shifted, there were comparable Catholic figures who endured similar trials for

their faith.) Though obedience to authority was widely inculcated in Tudor England and though women

in particular were

expected to be submissive,

social norms

could be upended by religious conviction. By the time of the examinations Askew describes, she had already repeatedly defied her Catholic husband, who denounced her publicly and had her arrested. Even when showed the instruments of torture, she refused to name any of her associates or to recant her beliefs. The theological controversies over the Eucharist, for which Askew and her companions along with many other Protestants and Catholics were willing to lay down their lives, require some explanation. Catholic doctrine held that sacraments properly performed were independent of the spiritual condition either of the priest or of the worshiper. Hence, for example, if the formula of consecration of the bread and wine was correctly spoken by a properly ordained priest, the miraculous transubstantiation of the Host into the body and blood of Christ would occur, whether or not the priest or the communicant was in a state of grace. Indeed, some Catholic theologians argued that because the bread had objectively been transformed into the body of God even a mouse nibbling on a consecrated host would be receiving Christ’s flesh. In contrast,

Protestants argued that the efficacy of certain key religious sacraments, including the Lord’s Supper, depended on the spiritual state of the minister and the congregant. An evil priest, in this conception, would not only be damning himself (as Catholics also believed) but would be turning the Lord’s Supper into the Devil’s Supper.

Liss

From The First Examination of Anne Askew To satisfy your expectation, good people (sayeth she), this was my first examination in the year of our Lord 1545, and in the month of March. First, Chris-

topher Dare examined me at Saddlers’ Hall, being one of the quest,! and asked if I did not believe that the sacrament hanging over the altar? was the very body of Christ really. Then I demanded’ this question of him: wherefore Saint Stephen was stoned to death.* And he said he could not tell. Then I answered that no more would I assoil> his vain question. Secondly, he said that there was a woman which did testify that I should read® how God was not in temples made with hands. Then I showed him the seventh and the seventeenth chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, what Stephen and Paul had said therein.” Whereupon he asked me how I took those sentences.* I answered that I would not throw pearls among swine,’ for acorns were good enough. Thirdly, he asked me wherefore I said that I had rather to read five lines in the Bible than to hear five masses in the temple. | confessed that I said no less. Not for the dispraise of either the Epistle or Gospel, but because the one did greatly edify me and the other! nothing at all. As Saint Paul doth witness in the fourteenth chapter of his first Epistle to the Corinthians, whereas he doth say: “If the trumpet giveth an uncertain sound, who will prepare himself to the battle?” Fourthly, he laid unto my charge that I should say: “If an ill? priest ministered, it was the Devil and not God.” My answer was that I never spake such thing. But this was my saying: “That whatsoever he were which ministered unto me, his ill conditions could not hurt my faith, but in spirit I received nevertheless the body and blood of Christ.” He asked me what I said concerning confession. | answered him my meaning, which was as Saint James sayeth, that every man ought to knowledge? his faults to other, and the one to pray for the other. Sixthly, he asked me what I said to the king’s book.* And I answered him that I could say nothing to it, because I never saw it. Seventhly, he asked me if I had the spirit of God in me. I answered if I had not, I was but reprobate or cast away. Then he said he had sent for a priest to examine me, which was there at hand. The priest asked me what I said to the sacrament of the altar.’ And required much to know therein my meaning. But I desired him again to hold me excused concerning that matter. None other answer would I make him, because I perceived him a papist.°

1. Inquest. “Saddlers’ Hall”: belonging to the guild of saddle makers. 2. The holy wafers were sometimes held in a hanging vessel in the shape of a dove, symbolizing the Holy Ghost. 3. Asked. 4. Stephen was martyred in Jerusalem after proclaiming that God “dwelleth not in temples made with hands” and accusing the priests of the temple of resisting the Holy Ghost and persecuting the prophets (Acts 7.48—60).

5. Resolve. 6. Would teach. 7. Acts 17.24 repeats the assertion of Acts 7 that God does not dwell in temples built by human

hands. 8.

Interpreted

those pronouncements.

9. Matthew 7.6.

1. “The one... the other”: i.e., the Bible. . . the mass. 2. Wicked. 3. Acknowledge. James 5.16. 4. A Necessary Doctrine and Erudition for Any

Christian Man (1543), with a preface by the king, sought to put a brake on reformers’ “sinister understanding of Scripture, presumption, arrogancy, carnal liberty, and contention,” by affirming a number of basically Catholic positions. 5. The Eucharist. 6. Follower of the pope; i.e., Roman Catholic.

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Eighthly, he asked me if I did not think that private masses did help souls departed.’ And [I] said it was great idolatry to believe more in them than in the death which Christ died for us. Then they had me thence unto my lord mayor and he examined me, as they had before, and I answered him directly in all things as | answered the quest afore. Besides this, my lord mayor laid one thing unto my charge which was never spoken of® me but of them. And that was whether a mouse eating the host received God or no. This question did I never ask, but indeed they asked it of me, whereunto I made them no answer, but smiled. Then the bishop's chancellor rebuked me and said that I was much to blame for uttering the Scriptures. For Saint Paul (he said) forbade women to speak or to talk of the word of God. I answered him that I knew Paul’s meaning as well as he, which is,

1 Corinthians 14, that a woman ought the way of teaching. And then I asked go into the pulpit and preach? He said ought to find no fault in poor women, Then my lord mayor commanded me would not serve me, and he made

not to speak in the congregation by him how many women he had seen he never saw none. Then I said he except? they had offended the law. to ward.' I asked him if sureties?

me short answer,

that he would

take

none. Then

was

| had to the Counter,*

and there remained

eleven days, no

friend admitted to speak with me. But in the meantime there was a priest sent to me which said that he was commanded of the bishop to examine me and to give me good counsel, which he did not. But first he asked me for what cause I was put in the Counter. And I told him I could not tell. Then he said it was great pity that | should be there without cause, and concluded

that he was very sorry for me. Secondly, he said it was told him that I should deny the sacrament of the altar. And I answered him again that, that* I had said, I had said. Thirdly, he asked me if I were shriven.’ I told him, so that I might have one of these three, that is to say, Doctor Crome,

Sir William, or Huntingdon,°®

I was

contented, because I knew them to be men of wisdom. “As for you or any other I will not dispraise, because I know ye not.” Then he said, “I would not have you think but that I or another that shall] be brought you shall be as honest as they. For if we were not, ye may be sure, the king would not suffer us to preach.” Then I answered by the saying of Solomon, “By communing with the wise, I may learn wisdom: But by talking with a fool, I shall take scathe”’ (Proverbs 1). Fourthly, he asked me, if the host should fall and a beast did eat it, whether the beast did receive God or no. I answered, “Seeing ye have taken the pains to ask this question, I desire you also to assoil® it yourself. For I will not do it,

because I perceive ye come to tempt me.” And he said it was against the order of schools that he which asked the question should answer it. I told him I was but a woman

and knew not the course of schools.? Fifthly, he asked me if I

7. By shortening their time in Purgatory. 8. By. 9. Unless. 1. Imprisonment.

2. Guarantors of good behavior. 3. A London prison. 4. What.

5. Absolved after confessing to a priest. 6. Reformist preachers. “So”: if. 7. Injury. 8. Answer.

9. Rules governing Catholic theological debates; scholastic procedures.

JOHN

FOXE

|

ae

intended to receive the sacrament at Easter or no. | answered that else I were no Christian woman, and that I did rejoice that the time was so near at hand. And then he departed thence with many fair words. Ed

In the meanwhile

he commanded

+

xe

his archdeacon

to common!

with me,

who said unto me, “Mistress, wherefore are ye accused and thus troubled here before the bishop?” To whom I answered again and said, “Sir, ask, I pray you, my accusers, for I know not as yet.” Then took he my book out of my hand and said, “Such books as this hath brought you to the trouble you are in. Beware,” sayeth he, “beware, for he that made this book and was the author thereof was an heretic, I warrant

you, and burnt in Smithfield.”” Then I asked him if he were certain and sure that it was true that? he had spoken. And he said he knew well the book was of John Frith’s making.* Then I asked him if he were not ashamed for to judge of the book before he saw it within, or yet knew the truth thereof. I said also that such unadvised and hasty judgment is token apparent of a very slender wit.’ Then I opened the book and showed it to him. He said he thought it had been another, for he could find no fault therein. Then I desired him no more to be so unadvisedly rash and swift in judgment, till he thoroughly knew the truth; and so he departed from me. * * * 1546-47, 1563 1. Converse. 2. Smithfield Market, just outside the London city walls, was a site of public executions until the 17th century. 3. What. 4. The reformer John Frith was executed in

Tower of London, Answering unto Master More’s Letter... Concerning the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, published in that year, was reissued in revised form in 1546, a few weeks before Askew was executed. 5. Shallow mind.

1533. A Book Made by John Frith, Prisoner in the

JOHN

FOXE

hen the Catholic Mary Tudor became queen, in 1553, and began to persecute Protestants, John Foxe (1516-1587), who had been a fellow at Oxford

University and had served as a tutor to the children of noble families, fled to the Continent. The book for which he became famous was already under way: the first version (Strasbourg, 1554) was in Latin and dealt with the persecutions suffered by the early reformers, particularly Wycliffe and John Hus. But his book grew and grew as Foxe received from England and Scotland accounts of the persecutions, including hideous tortures, being inflicted on the Protestants there. When Elizabeth came to the throne, in 1558, Foxe returned at once to England, and there he

translated his Latin volume, adding to it hundreds of stories of the Marian martyrs (many based on eyewitness testimony, some on hearsay and rumor). The English

edition was first published in 1563; often called “Foxe’s Book of Martyrs,” its title

was Acts and Monuments of these latter and perilous days, touching matters of the

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church, wherein are comprehended and described the great persecution and horrible troubles that have been wrought and practiced by the Romish prelates from the year of Our Lord a thousand to the time now present. Foxe saw life as an apocalyptic struggle between good and evil, Christ and Antichrist. Immediately and enormously popular, his book is a compendium of memoirs, stories, personal letters, court records,

acts, and the words, g and the like, renderin

of some hundreds of martyrsin graphic—if often fictionalized—detail. sufferings The final version of the book (1583) is massive—more than six thousand folio pages,

containing four million words. Though vehemently criticized by Catholics for its polemical distortions and errors, it helped shape for generations of men and women a sense of collective identity and destiny. Apart across the broad social spectrum from fanning the flames of anti-Catholic feeling, Foxe had an immense influence on English nationalism. His stories—from the medieval crypto-Protestants burned for heresy to the Protestant martyrs who passed through the fiery trials of the Marian persecutions—portrayed England as the land of a new chosen people, destined to lead the way toward the kingdom of God on earth. Foxe’s second edition (1570) was placed, by government order, in churches throughout England.”

From Acts and Monuments [THE DEATH OF ANNE ASKEW| Hitherto we have entreated of! this good woman;

now it remaineth

that we

touch somewhat as touching her end and martyrdom. She being born of such stock and kindred that she might have lived in great wealth and prosperity, if she would rather have followed the world than Christ, but now she was so tormented, that she could neither live long in so great distress, neither yet by the adversaries be suffered? to die in secret. Wherefore the day of her execution was appointed, and she brought into Smithfield? in a chair, because she could not go on her feet, by means? of her great torments. When she was brought unto the stake she was tied by the middle with a chain that held up her body. When all things were thus prepared to the fire, the king’s letters of pardon were brought, whereby to offer her safeguard of her life if she would recant, which she would neither receive neither” yet vouchsafe once to look upon. Shaxton® also was there present, who, openly that day recanting his opinions, went about with a long oration to cause her also to turn, against whom she stoutly resisted. Thus she being troubled so many manner of ways, and having passed through so many torments, having now ended the long course of her agonies, being compassed in with flames of fire, as a blessed sacrifice unto God, she slept in the Lord, in anno’ 1546, leaving behind her a singular example of Christian constancy for all men to follow. 1563

For Foxe’s account of the execution of Lady Jane Grey, see the section “Women in Power.” For his account of the burning of Nicholas Ridley (bishop of London) and Hugh Latimer (former bishop of Worcester), see the NAEL Archive. 1. Treated, discussed. 2. Allowed.

35 See pyl59) m2. 4. Because. 5. Nor. 6. Nicholas Shaxton, bury. 7. The year,

formerly

bishop of Salisi

BOOK

The burning of Thomas

Cranmer,

OF

COMMON

PRAYER

from Foxe’s Acts and Monuments.

|

161

Cranmer,

archbishop of Canterbury, was arrested, tried for treason, and burned at the stake in front of Balliol College, Oxford, on March 21, 1556. Here he stretches his right hand into the fire, since that hand had been responsible for writing (or at least signing) a recantation of his Protestant faith, an apostasy that he repudiated just before his execution. The image also shows Cranmer crying out, “Lord, receive my spirit,” traditionally said to be part of the dying words of the first Christian martyr, Saint Stephen.

BOOK

OF COMMON

PRAYER

he Protestant attack on Catholic rituals and the demand for worship in the vernacular led during the reign of Edward VI to the preparation of an English liturgical book, authorized to be the official and only text for public worship in England. Initiated by the Act of Uniformity in 1549, the work’s principal architect was Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556). Cranmer, the archbishop of Canterbury, was at first careful to translate and shape the old Latin liturgy into a moderate, occasion-

ally ambiguous compromise between Catholic and Protestant positions. His thorough revision

in 1552 put the Book of Common

Prayer much

more

decisively into

the Protestant camp. Banned by the Catholic Mary Tudor, during whose reign Cranmer was executed, the Book of Common Prayer was restored, with small revisions, by Elizabeth and has remained the basis of Anglican worship ever since. Cranmer was, among his other accomplishments, a brilliant prose stylist, and the cadences of his book have had a profound influence on the English language. The selection, part of the marriage service, is from the version used during the reign of Elizabeth.

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From The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments and Other Rites and Ceremonies in

the Church of England From The Form of Solemnization of Matrimony

* * * At the day appointed for solemnization of matrimony, the persons to be married shall come into the body of the church with their friends and neighbors. And there the priest shall thus say: Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of his congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate,' instituted of God in paradise, in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his church:? which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee,* and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men,’ and therefore is not to be enterprised® nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God, duly considering the causes for the which matrimony was ordained. One was, the procreation of children, to be

brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and praise of God. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication, that such

persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.® Thirdly, for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity: into the which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace. And also speaking to the persons that shall be married, he shall say:

I require and charge you (as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed) that if either of you do know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that ye confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as be coupled together otherwise than God’s word doth allow are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful. At which day of marriage, if any man do allege and declare any impediment why they may not be coupled together in matrimony by God’s law or the laws of this realm; and will be bound, and sufficient sureties with

1. State, condition.

3. He changed water into wine (John 2.1—11).

2. Cf. Ephesians 5.31—32: “For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. This is a great mystery: but I speak concern-

4. “Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled: but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge” (Hebrews 13.4). 5. Undertaken.

ing Christ and the church.”

6. The church.

BOOK

OF

COMMON

PRAYER:

MATRIMONY

|

163

him, to the parties, or else put in a caution,’ to the full value of such

charges as the persons to be married doth sustain, to prove his allegation: then the solemnization must be deferred unto such time as the truth be tried. If no impediment be alleged, then shall the curate’ say unto the man,

N.? Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all

other, keep thee only to her, so long as you both shall live?

The man shall answer, I will. Then shall the priest say to the woman, N. Wilt thou have this man

to thy wedded

husband,

to live together

after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health,

and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live? The woman shall answer, I will.

Then shall the minister say,

Who giveth this woman to be married unto this man? And the minister receiving the woman at her father or friend’s hands, shall cause the man to take the woman by the right hand, and so either to give their troth' to other. The man first saying: I N. take thee N. to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse,

for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in

health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart,* according to God’s holy ordinance: and thereto | plight thee my troth. Then shall they loose their hands, and the woman taking again the man by the right hand shall say: I N. take thee N. to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in

health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance: and thereto I give thee my troth.

Then shall they again loose their hands, and the man shall give unto the woman a ring, laying the same upon the book with the accustomed duty’ to the priest and clerk. And the priest taking the ring, shall deliver it unto the man, to put it upon the fourth finger of the woman’s left hand. And the man taught by the priest shall say:

7. Surety. 8. A clergyman who has charge of a parish. 9. Name;

i.e., the

given name here.

minister

inserts

the

1. Truth; i.e., pledge. 2. Part. man’s

3. Payment. “Book”: Bible.

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With this ring I thee wed: with my body I thee worship: and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Then the man leaving the ring upon the fourth finger of the woman’s left hand, the minister shall say: O eternal God, creator and preserver of all mankind, giver of all spiritual grace, the author of everlasting life: send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy name; that as Isaac

and Rebecca lived faithfully together,* so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof this ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according unto thy laws: through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Then shall the priest join their right hands together, and say: Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.*

Then shall the minister speak unto the people: Forasmuch as N. and N. have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands: I pronounce that they be man and wife together. In the name of the Father, and of the Son,

and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

And the minister shall add this blessing: God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and

keep you: the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace that you may so live together in this life that in the world to come you may have life everlasting. Amen. 1559 4. In Genesis 24—27.

5. From Mark 10.9.

BOOK

OF HOMILIES

he first Protestant archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, was responsible in 1547 for the publication of the Book of Homilies. Hoping to curb the influence of “ignorant preachers” and fearing the spread of unauthorized beliefs, Cranmer brought together twelve sermons that were, by royal and ecclesiastical

decree, to be read over and over, in the order in which they were set forth, in parish

churches throughout the realm. The Homilies, revised and reissued during the reign of Elizabeth, are political as well as religious documents. As the “Homily Against Disobedience” (added in 1570 in the aftermath of a Catholic uprising the preceding year) amply demonstrates, the intention was to teach the English people “to honor

BOOK

OF

HOMILIES:

AGAINST

DISOBEDIENCE

|

165

God and to serve their king with all humility and subjection, and godly and honestly to behave themselves toward all men.” Artfully crafted and tirelessly reiterated, these sermons would have been familiar to almost everyone in the latter half of the sixteenth century.

From An Homily Against Disobedience and Willful Rebellion **““ How horrible a sin against God and man rebellion is cannot possibly be expressed according unto the greatness thereof. For he that nameth rebellion nameth not a singular, or one only sin, as is theft, robbery, murder, and such-

like, but he nameth the whole puddle and sink' of all sins against God and man, against his prince, his country, his countrymen, his parents, his children, his kinfolks, his friends, and against all men universally: all sins, I say,

against God and all men heaped together nameth he that nameth rebellion. For concerning the offense of God’s majesty, who seeth not that rebellion riseth first by contempt of God and of his holy ordinances and laws, wherein he so straitly? commandeth obedience, forbiddeth disobedience and rebellion?? And besides the dishonor done by rebels unto God’s holy name by their breaking of the oath made to their prince with the attestation of God’s name and calling of his majesty to witness, who heareth not the horrible oaths and blasphemies of God’s holy name that are used daily amongst rebels, that is either amongst them or heareth the truth of their behavior? Who knoweth not that rebels do not only themselves leave all works necessary to be done upon workdays undone, whiles they accomplish their abominable work of rebellion, and do compel others that would gladly be well occupied to do the same, but also how rebels do not only leave the sabbath day of the Lord unsanctified, the temple and church of the Lord unresorted unto, but also do by their works of wickedness most horribly profane and pollute the sabbath day, serving Satan, and by doing of his work making it the devil’s day instead of the Lord’s day? Besides that they compel good men that would gladly serve the Lord assembling in his temple and church upon his day, as becometh the Lord’s servants, to assemble and meet armed in the field to resist the fury* of such rebels. Yea, and many rebels, lest they should leave any part of God’s commandments in the first table of his law’ unbroken or any sin against God undone, do make rebellion for the maintenance of their images and idols, and of their idolatry committed or to be committed by them, and, in despite of God, cut and tear in sunder his Holy Word, and tread it under their feet, as

of late ye know was done.®

1. Cesspool.

which God wrote the Ten Commandments

2. Strictly. 3. Romans 13.1—2: “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation.” 4. Violence. 5. The first of the two “tables” (tablets) of stone on

teronomy 5.22): those on the first table specify our obligations to God, those on the second (see the following paragraph) our obligations to one another. 6. These enormities were purportedly perpetrated by the Catholic rebels who, in the winter of

(Deu-

1569, rose in the north of England against Queen

Elizabeth and in support of her Catholic cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots (who had been imprisoned in England since May 1568).

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As concerning the second table of God’s law, and all sins that may be

committed against man, who seeth not that they be all contained in rebellion? For first, the rebels do not only dishonor their prince, the parent of their country, but also do dishonor and shame their natural parents, if they have any, do shame their kindred and friends, disherit’ and undo forever their children and heirs. Thefts, robberies, and murders, which of all sins are most loathed of most men, are in no men so much, nor so perniciously and mischievously, as in rebels. For the most arrant thieves and cruelest murderers that ever were, so long as they refrain from rebellion, as they are not many in number, so spreadeth their wickedness and damnation unto a few: they spoil® but a few, they shed the blood but of few in comparison. But rebels are the cause of infinite robberies and murders of great multitudes, and of those also whom they should defend from the spoil and violence of other; and, as rebels are many in number, so doth their wickedness and damnation spread itself unto many. And if whoredom and adultery amongst such persons as are agreeable to such wickedness are (as they indeed be) most damnable, what are the forcible oppressions? of matrons and men’s wives, and the violating and deflowering of virgins and maids, which are most rife with rebels; how horrible and damnable, think you, are they? Now,

besides that rebels, by breach of their faith given and oath made to their prince, be guilty of most damnable perjury, it is wondrous to see what false colors and feigned causes, by slanderous lies made upon their prince and the counselers,

rebels will devise to cloak their rebellion withal, which is the

worst and most damnable of all false-witness-bearing that may be possible. For what should I speak of coveting or desiring of other men’s wives, houses, lands, goods, and servants in rebels, who by their wills would leave unto no man anything of his own? Thus you see that all God’s laws are by rebels violated and broken, and that all sins possible to be committed against God or man be contained in rebellion: which sins, if a man list! to name by the accustomed names of the seven capital or deadly sins, as pride, envy, wrath, covetousness, sloth, gluttony, and lechery, he shall find them all in rebellion, and amongst rebels. For first, as ambition and desire to be aloft, which is the property of pride, stirreth up many men’s minds to rebellion, so cometh it of a luciferian pride and presumption that a few rebellious subjects should set themselves up against the majesty of their prince, against the wisdom of the counselors, against the power and force of all nobility, and the faithful subjects and people of the whole realm. As for envy, wrath, murder, and desire of blood, and covetous-

ness of other men’s goods, lands, and livings, they are the inseparable accidents of all rebels, and peculiar properties? that do usually stir up wicked men unto rebellion. Now such as by riotousness, gluttony, drunkenness, excess of apparel, and unthrifty* games have wasted their own goods unthriftily, the same are most apt unto and most desirous of rebellion, whereby they trust to come by other men’s goods unlawfully and violently. And where other

Disinherit.

. Despoil, plunder. Rapes. NO OSS a Wants.

2. Distinctive characteristics. “Inseparable acci-

dents”: unavoidable accompaniments. 3. Dissolute.

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gluttons and drunkards take too much of such meats and drinks as are served

to tables, rebels waste and consume in short space all corn in barns, fields, or elsewhere, whole graners,* whole storehouses, whole cellars, devour whole

flocks of sheep, whole droves of oxen and kine.> And as rebels that are married, leaving their own wives at home, do most ungraciously, so much more do unmarried men than any stallions or horses, being now by rebellion set at liberty from correction of laws which bridled them before, which abuse by force other men’s wives and daughters, and ravish virgins and maidens most shamefully, abominably, and damnably. Thus all sins, by all names that sins may be named, and by all means that all sins may be committed and wrought, do all wholly upon heaps follow rebellion, and are to be found all together amongst rebels. 1570 4. Granaries. “Corn”: grain.

5. Cattle.

RICHARD

HOOKER

ut of the long and bitter controversy over the government of the church in ~ sixteenth-century England emerged one literary masterpiece. It is a work in eight books called Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (that is, the governmental system of the church). The author was the Oxford-educated Richard Hooker (1554-1600), a scholar and minister. In 1585 Hooker was master of the Temple (in modern terms, dean of a law school); one of his subordinates was a Puritan intel-

lectual named Walter Travers. Between them a contentious debate developed on the burning question of how the church should be governed. The Puritan view was that no organization or authority in the church was valid unless it was based clearly and specifically on the Bible; the whole hierarchical system of the English Church, with its deacons, priests, bishops, and archbishops, was accordingly wrong, along with its liturgy and most of its rituals. The position Hooker undertook to defend was that the Scriptures, or divine revelation, are not the only guide given to Christians for organizing and administering the church. Another guide is the law of nature, also divinely given, but which can be discerned by the use of human reason unassisted by revelation. In the book that grew out of his controversy with Travers, Hooker explained how the law of nature affords principles that justify the existing organization and practices of the English Church. Book 1| of Ecclesiastical Polity deals with law in general and the several kinds of law; it pictures the entire universe, and also human society, as founded on reason and operating under various natural and divine laws. Book 2 deals with the nature, authority, and adequacy of Scripture. Books 3 to 5 explain and defend the rites, ceremonies, worship, and government of the English Church.

Books 6, 7, and 8 deal with various embodiments of authority, legitimate and illegitimate—elders, bishops, kings, and popes. Hooker was a close and effective reasoner; avoiding the fiery invective or impassioned rhetoric that characterized most disputants of his time, he wrote in a calm, reasonable, and judicious manner. His defense of existing ecclesiastical practices went back to fundamental principles, to a philosophy of nature and our place in it,

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to the subordination of the individual to a larger community and to God. It is this worldview, set forth in what is perhaps the period’s most sonorous and quietly elegant prose, that makes Ecclesiastical Polity of enduring interest.”

From Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity From Book 1, Chapter 3

[ON THE SEVERAL KINDS OF LAW, AND ON THE NATURAL LAW] I am not ignorant that by law eternal the learned for the most part do understand the order, not which God hath eternally purposed himself in all his works to observe, but rather that which with himself he hath set down

as expedient to be kept by all his creatures, according to the several! conditions wherewith he hath indued them. They who thus are accustomed to speak apply the name of Law unto that only rule of working which superior authority imposeth; whereas we, somewhat more enlarging the sense thereof, term any kind of rule or canon whereby actions are framed? a law. Now that law, which as it is laid up in the bosom of God they call eternal, receiveth according unto the different kinds of things which are subject unto it different and sundry kinds of names. That part of it which ordereth natural agents,’ we call usually nature’s law; that which angels do clearly behold, and without any swerving observe, is a law celestial and heavenly; the law of reason that which bindeth creatures reasonable in this world, and

with which by reason they may most plainly perceive themselves bound; that which bindeth them, and is not known but by special revelation from God, divine law; human l\aw, that which, out of the law either of reason or

of God, men probably* gathering to be expedient, they make it a law. All things, therefore, which are as they ought to be, are conformed unto this second law eternal, and even those things which to this eternal law are not conformable are notwithstanding in some sort ordered by the first eternal law. For what good or evil is there under the sun, what action correspondent to or repugnant unto the law which God hath imposed upon his creatures, but in or upon it God doth work according to the law which himself hath eternally purposed to keep, that is to say, the first law eternal? So that a twofold law eternal being thus made, it is not hard to conceive how they both take place in all things. Wherefore to come to the law of nature, albeit thereby we sometimes mean that manner of working which God hath set for each created thing to keep, yet forasmuch as those things are termed most properly natural agents, which keep the law of their kind®> unwittingly, as the heavens and elements of the world, which can do no otherwise than

they do, and forasmuch as we give unto intellectual natures the name of voluntary agents, that so we may distinguish them from the other, expedient it will be that we sever® the law of nature observed by the one from that which the other is tied unto. Touching the former, their strict keeping of * For several additional excerpts from Ecclesiastical Polity, see the NAEL Archive. 1. Different. 2. Directed. 3. Referring to the mineral, vegetable, and animal

agents, traditionally distinguished agents by their lack of rationality. 4. Plausibly. 5. Species, nature. 6. Distinguish.

from

human

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one tenure statute’ and law is spoken of by all, but hath in it more than men have as yet attained to know, or perhaps ever shall attain, seeing the travail of wading herein is given of God to the sons of men, that perceiving how much the least thing in the world hath in it more than the wisest are able to reach unto, they may by this means learn humility. Moses in describing the work of creation attributeth speech unto God: “God said, Let there be light, Let there be a firmament; Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together into one place; Let the earth bring forth; Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven.”* Was this only the intent of Moses, to signify the greatness of God’s power by the easiness of his accomplishing such effects without travail, pain, or labor? Surely it seemeth that Moses had herein besides this a further purpose: namely, first to teach that God did not work as a necessary, but a voluntary, agent, intending beforehand and decreeing with himself that which did outwardly proceed from him; secondly, to show that God did then institute a law natural to be observed by creatures, and therefore according to the manner of laws, the institution thereof is described as being established by solemn injunction. His commanding those things to be which are, and to be in such sort as they are, to keep that tenure and course which they do, importeth’ the establishment of nature’s law. This world’s first creation, and the preservation since of things created, what is it but only so far forth a manifestation by execution, what the eternal law of God is concerning things natural? And as it cometh to pass in a kingdom rightly ordered, that after a law is once published, it presently! takes effect far and wide, all states’ framing themselves thereunto; even so let us think it fareth* in the natural course of the world: since the time that God did first proclaim the edicts of his law upon it, heaven and earth have hearkened unto his voice, and their labor hath been to do his will. He made

a law for the rain. He gave his decree unto the sea, that the waters should not pass his commandment.* Now if Nature should intermit’ her course and leave altogether, though it were but for a while, the observation of her own laws; if those principal and mother elements

of the world, whereof all things in this lower world are

made, should lose the qualities which now they have; if the frame of that heavenly arch erected over our heads should loosen and dissolve itself; if celestial spheres should forget their wonted® motions and by irregular volubility’ turn themselves any way as it might happen; if the prince of the lights of heaven, which now as a giant doth run his unwearied course, should as it were through a languishing faintness begin to stand* and to rest himself, if the moon should wander from her beaten way, the times and seasons of the year blend themselves by disordered and confused mixture, the winds breathe out their last gasp, the clouds yield no rain, the earth be defeated? of heavenly influence, the fruits of the earth pine away as children at the withered breasts of their mother no longer able to yield them relief, what would 7. Decree establishing the domains of the various creatures and the conditions of service by which they hold these domains. 8. Genesis 1.3, 6, 9, 11, 14. In this period, Moses was generally assumed to be the author of the

2. 3. 4, 5. 6.

Classes. Happens. Proverbs 8.29. “Pass”: overstep. Interrupt. Accustomed.

Book of Genesis.

7. Revolution, rotation.

9. Signifies, implies. 1. Immediately.

8. Stand still. 9. Deprived.

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himself, whom

these things now do all serve? See we not

plainly that obedience of creatures unto the law of nature is the stay! of the whole world? Notwithstanding with nature it cometh sometimes to pass as with art. Let Phidias? have rude? and obstinate stuff to carve, though his art do that* it should, his work will lack that beauty which otherwise in fitter matter it might have had. He that striketh an instrument with skill may cause notwithstanding a very unpleasant sound, if the string whereon he striketh chance to be uncapable of harmony. In the matter whereof natural things consist, that of Theophrastus taketh place: “much of it is oftentimes such as will by no means yield to receive that impression which were best and most perfect.” Which defect in the matter of things natural, they who gave themselves unto the contemplation of nature among the heathen observed often; but the true original cause thereof divine malediction,°® laid

for the sin of man upon those creatures which God had made for the use of man. This, being an article of that saving truth which God hath revealed unto his church, was above the reach of their’ merely natural® capacity and understanding. But howsoever these swervings’ are now and then incident into! the course of nature, nevertheless so constantly the laws of nature are by natural agents observed, that no man denieth but those things which nature worketh are wrought either always or for the most part after one and the same manner. *** 1593 1. Mainstay, support.

2. The greatest of ancient Greek sculptors (5th century B.C.E.). 3. Rough, undressed (i.e., unprepared). 4. What.

5. Le., “that remark of Theophrastus carries weight.” Theophrastus was a Greek writer of the 3rd century

B.c.E.,

a follower

of Aristotle

and

inventor of the species of essay called the “char-

ROBERT

acter,” which portrayed a type of person in concise form. 6. God's curse in Eden, which fell not only on sinful humankind but on the earth as well. 7. Le., the ancient pagans’, 8. l.e., unaided by revelation. 9. Deviations. 1. Likely to happen in.

SOUTHWELL

obert Southwell (1561-1595), the younger son of a prominent Roman Catholic family, went to the English seminary for Catholics at Douai, France, in his youth, then to Rome, where he entered the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits). In 1586 he returned to England to minister to English Catholics. His mission was a dangerous one because of laws that proscribed Roman Catholic worship and banished priests; in 1592 he was apprehended, imprisoned, tortured, and, three years later, executed as a traitor in the usual grisly manner—by being hanged, disemboweled, and then beheaded. Southwell wrote a good deal of religious prose and verse; the most famous of his lyrics is “The Burning Babe.” Ben Jonson told his friend William Drummond of Hawthornden that if he had written “The Burning Babe” he would have been content to destroy many of his own poems.

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The Burning Babe

5

As lin hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow; And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear; Who, scorchéd with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed

As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed. “Alas,” quoth he, “but newly born in fiery heats I fry,° burn Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I! My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns,

10

Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns:

The fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals, The metal in this furnace wrought are men’s defiléd souls, For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good,

15

So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood.” With this he vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away, And straight! I called unto mind that it was Christmas day. 1602

1. Straightaway, immediately.

ROGER ASCHAM 1515-1568

~ / hen she heard of the death of her former tutor and Latin Secretary, Queen ‘Elizabeth is said to have exclaimed, “I would rather have cast ten thousand

pounds in the sea than parted from my Ascham.” Educated at St. John’s College, Cambridge, one of the great centers of humanism in England, Ascham passionately believed in the study of the Greek and Latin classics, not merely for erudition and aesthetic pleasure but for guidance in moral values and in political activity. He corresponded widely in Latin with learned men on the Continent, but eager to influence his countrymen, whether they read Latin or not, he wrote several important

books in English, including Toxophilus, a dialogue in praise of archery with the traditional English longbow, and A Report and Discourse of the State of Germany, based on his experience as secretary to the English ambassador there in 1550-53. His most famous work in English was The Schoolmaster, published two years after his death. The Schoolmaster eloquently opposes the widespread use of corporal punishment in schools. Instilling a love of learning, rather than a fear of physical pain, inspires young children to excel in their studies. Ascham advocates “double translation” as the most effective way of acquiring a sound Latin style: students would translate a

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passage from Latin to English and then, without consulting the Latin original, translate the English back into Latin; they would then compare their version with the author's. The approach thus downplays rote learning of the rules of grammar and emphasizes instead a sense of style. In the hands of a pedant, Ascham’s method (which included discouraging students from speaking Latin, for fear that everyday life would corrupt the linguistic purity of classical antiquity) could, like so many other educational reforms, harden into a rigid frame into which individuals are hammered. But his ultimate goal was not a sterile miming but an ethical and aesthetic fashioning of the self. Deeply fearing what he called the “divorce between the tongue and the heart,” he believed that education should teach a person to conjoin language and values in the achievement of what The Schoolmaster calls “decorum.” Ascham’s most despairing vision ofasociety without this moral decorum comes in his account of a brief trip to Italy, which he viewed as an evil seductress, luring unwitting Englishmen away from their ethical and religious values.”

From The Schoolmaster From The First Book for the Youth [TEACHING LATIN]

There is a way, touched in the first book of Cicero De oratore,' which, wisely brought into schools, truly taught, and constantly used, would not only take wholly away this butcherly fear in making of Latins? but would also, with ease and pleasure and in short time, as I know by good experience, work a true choice and placing of words, a right ordering of sentences, an easy understanding of the tongue, a readiness to speak, a facility to write, a true judgment both of his own and other men’s doings, what tongue soever he doth use. The way is this. After the three concordances* learned, as I touched before, let the master read unto him the epistles of Cicero gathered together and chosen out by Sturmius* for the capacity of children. First, let him teach the child, cheerfully and plainly, the cause and matter? of the letter; then, let him construe? it into English so oft as the child may easily carry away the understanding of it; lastly, parse’ it over perfectly. This done thus, let the child, by and by,® both construe and parse it over again so that it may appear that the child doubteth in nothing that his master taught him before. After this, the child must take a paper book and, sitting in some place where no man shall prompt him, by himself, let him translate into English his former lesson. Then, showing it to his master, let the master take from him his Latin book, and, pausing an hour at the least, then let the

child translate his own English into Latin again in another paper book. When the child bringeth it turned into Latin, the master must compare it with Tully's? book and lay them both together, and where the child doth well, * Another excerpt from The Schoolmaster—on Ascham’s last conversation with Lady Jane Grey— is found on pp. 200-201. For an excerpt from Ascham’s Toxophilus, see the NAEL Archive. 1. Cicero's On the Orator (55 B.c.£.) consists of

three parts, or books. 2. Le., in Latin composition. 3. Agreement of noun and adjective, verb and noun, relative with antecedent.

4. Johannes Sturm (1507-1589), German scholar and educator. 5. Occasion and content.

6. Translate. 7. Give a grammatical analysis.

8. Immediately. 9. Common English name Cicero.

for Marcus

Tullius

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either in choosing or true placing of Tully’s words, let the master praise him and say, “Here ye do well.” For I assure you, there is no such whetstone to sharpen a good wit and encourage a will to learning as is praise. But if the child miss, either in forgetting a word, or in changing a good with a worse,

or misordering the sentence,

I would not have the master

either frown or chide with him, if the child have done his diligence and used no truantship therein. For I know by good experience that a child shall take more profit of two faults gently warned of than of four things rightly hit. For then the master shall have good occasion to say unto him:

N{omen],' Tully would have used such a word, not this; Tully would have placed this word here, not there; would have used this case, this

number, this person, this degree, this gender; he would have used this mood, this tense, this simple rather than this compound; this adverb here, not there; he would have ended the sentence with this verb, not

with that noun or participle, etc. In these few lines I have wrapped up the most tedious part of grammar and also the ground of almost all the rules that are so busily taught by the master, and so hardly” learned by the scholar, in all common schools, which after this sort? the master shall teach without all error, and the scholar

shall learn without great pain, the master being led by so sure a guide, and the scholar being brought into so plain and easy a way. And therefore we do not contemn‘ rules, but we gladly teach rules, and teach them more plainly,

sensibly, and orderly than they be commonly taught in common schools. For when the master shall compare Tully’s book with his scholar’s translation, let the master, at the first, lead and teach his scholar to join the rules

of his grammar book with the examples of his present lesson, until the scholar by himself be able to fetch out of his grammar every rule for every example, so as the grammar book be ever in the scholar’s hand and also used of him, as a dictionary, for every present use. This is a lively and perfect way of teaching of rules, where the common wuay, used in common schools, to read the grammar alone by itself, is tedious for the master, hard for the scholar, cold and uncomfortable to them both.

Let your scholar be never afraid to ask you any doubt,” but use discreetly the best allurements ye can to encourage him to the same, lest his overmuch fearing of you drive him to seek some misorderly shift,° as to seek to be helped by some other book, or to be prompted by some other scholar, and so go about to beguile you much, and himself more. [THE ITALIANATE ENGLISHMAN]

** * But Lam afraid that overmany of our travelers into Italy do not eschew the way to Circe’s court but go’ and ride and run and fly thither; they make great haste to come to her; they make great suit* to serve her; yea, I could point out some with my finger that never had? gone out of England but only 1. Name (Latin). The teacher will substitute the child’s name. 2. With such difficulty. 3. Method. 4. Disdain. 5. Question.

6. Subterfuge. 7. Walk. Circe was an enchantress in Homer's Odyssey who changed men into swine and other animals. 8. Petition. 9. Would never have.

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to serve Circe in Italy. Vanity and vice and any license to ill-living in England was counted stale and rude! unto them. And so, being mules and horses before they went, returned very? swine and asses home again; yet everywhere very foxes with subtle and busy heads and, where they may, very wolves with cruel malicious hearts. A marvelous monster which for filthiness of living, for dullness to learning himself, for wiliness in dealing with others,

for malice in hurting without cause, should carry at once in one body the belly of a swine, the head of an ass, the brain of a fox, the womb of a wolf.

If you think we judge amiss and write too sore against you, hear what the Italian saith of the Englishman, what the master reporteth of the scholar, who uttereth plainly what is taught by him and what is learned by you, saying, Inglese italianato é un diavolo incarnato; that is to say, “You remain men in shape and fashion but become devils in life and condition.” This is not the opinion of one, for some private spite, but the judgment of all in a common proverb which riseth of that learning and those manners which you gather in Italy—a good schoolhouse of wholesome doctrine, and worthy masters of commendable scholars, where the master had rather defame himself for his teaching than not shame his scholar for his learning: a good nature of the master, and fair conditions of the scholars. And now choose

you, you Italian Englishmen, whether you will be angry with us for calling you monsters, or with the Italians for calling you devils, or else with your own selves, that take so much pains and go so far to make yourselves both. If some yet do not well understand what is an Englishman Italianated, I will plainly tell him: he that by living and traveling in Italy bringeth home into England out of Italy the religion, the learning, the policy,? the experience, the manners* of Italy. That is to say, for religion, papistry’ or worse; for learning, less, commonly, than they carried out with them; for policy, a factious heart, a discoursing head, a mind to meddle in all men’s matters; for

experience, plenty of new mischiefs never known in England before; for manners, variety of vanities and change of filthy living. These be the enchantments of Circe 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, commended by honest titles the sooner to corrupt honest manners, dedicated overboldly to virtuous and honorable personages, the easilier to beguile simple and innocent wits. It is pity that those which have authority and charge to allow and disallow books to be printed be no more circumspect herein than they are. Ten sermons at Paul’s Cross’ do not so much good for moving men to true doctrine as one of those books do harm with enticing men to ill-living. Yea, I say farther, those books tend not so much to corrupt honest living as they do to subvert true religion. More papists be made by your merry books of Italy than by your earnest books of Louvain. And because our great physicians do wink at the matter and make no count? of this sore, I, though not 1. Unrefined. 2. True.

3. Politics. 4. Morals. 5. Catholicism.

6. Foolish.

7. An outdoor pulpit near St. Paul’s Cathedral

where important and eloquent ministers preached. 8. Town in Belgium noted in the 16th century

for its Catholic university, especially the theological faculty. : 9. Account.

nive at.

“Wink at”: shut their eyes to, con-

;

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admitted one of their fellowship, yet having been many years a prentice to God’s true religion, and trust to continue a poor journeyman therein all days of my life, for the duty I owe and love I bear both to true doctrine and honest living, though I have no authority to amend the sore myself, yet I will declare my good will to discover! the sore to others. St. Paul saith that sects and ill opinions be the works of the flesh and fruits of sin.? This is spoken no more truly for the doctrine than sensibly for the reason. And why? For ill-doings breed ill-thinkings, and of corrupted manners spring perverted judgments. And how? There be in man two special* things: man’s will, man’s mind. Where will inclineth to goodness the mind is bent to truth; where will is carried from goodness to vanity the mind is soon drawn from truth to false opinion. And so the readiest way to entangle the mind with false doctrine is first to entice the will to wanton living. Therefore, when the busy and open? papists abroad could not by their contentious books turn men in England fast enough from truth and right judgment in doctrine, then the subtle® and secret papists at home procured bawdy books to be translated out of the Italian tongue, whereby overmany young wills and wits, allured to wantonness, do now boldly contemn all severe books that sound to® honesty and godliness. In our forefathers’ time, when papistry as a standing pool covered and overflowed all England, few books were read in our tongue, saving certain books of chivalry, as they said, for pastime and pleasure, which, as some say, were made in monasteries by idle monks or wanton canons; as one for example, Morte Darthur,’ the

whole pleasure of which book standeth in two special points—in open manslaughter and bold bawdry; in which book those be counted the noblest knights that do kill most men without any quarrel and commit foulest adulteries by subtlest shifts: as Sir Lancelot with the wife of King Arthur his master, Sir Tristram with the wife of King Mark his uncle, Sir Lamorak with the wife of King Lot that was his own aunt. This is good stuff for wise men to laugh at or honest men to take pleasure at. Yet | know when God’s Bible was banished the court and Morte Darthur received into the prince’s chamber.? ** * 1570

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Reveal. Galatians 5.19—21. Le., peculiar to the human species. Meddlesome and openly declared. ; Deceitful. Treat of. “Severe”: serious.

7. Sir Thomas Malory’s collection of Arthurian romances. 8. Stratagems. 9. Referring to the prohibition of the Protestant translations of the Bible during the reign of the Catholic Queen Mary I (1553-58).

SIR THOMAS HOBY 1530-1566

ne of the most influential books of the Renaissance was Il Cortegiano (The Courtier), published in 1528 in Italian by Count Baldassare Castiglione (1478-1529) and soon translated into all the major European languages. The English translation, by the humanist and diplomat Sir Thomas Hoby, was not published until 1561 but had been written earlier, probably during the reign of Queen Mary (1553-58), when Hoby lived abroad as a Protestant exile.

Castiglione’s book describes, by means of four fictitious dialogues—on successive evenings, among actual men and women living at the court of the duke of Urbino in the years 1504—08—the qualities of the ideal courtier. Supreme among these qualities is grace, the mysterious attribute that renders a person’s speech and actions not merely impressive or accomplished but persuasive, touching, and beautiful. Though few people are born with grace, it is possible to acquire it by the mastery of certain techniques. In a famous passage, one of The Courtier’s speakers, Count Lodovico Canossa, defines the most important of these techniques as sprezzatura or, as Hoby translates it, “recklessness.” Sprezzatura is in fact close to the opposite of recklessness, as we ordinarily understand the term; it is a device for manipulating appearances and masking all the tedious memorizing of lines and secret rehearsals that underlie successful social performances. There is a paradox here, still evident in many social settings: success requires the painstaking mastery of complex codes of behavior, yet there is no surer recipe for failure than to be seen (like Malvolio in Twelfth Night) to be trying too hard. The most famous passage in The Courtier presents an elegant version of an ideal of love that ultimately derives from Plato’s Symposium. In the ancient Greek original, dating from the late fourth century B.c.£., that ideal is principally focused on the love of men for beautiful boys; in Castiglione’s dialogue, the poet and scholar Peter Bembo recasts it as both heterosexual and Christian. Bembo declares that love is not the mere gratification of the senses but is the yearning of the soul after beauty, which is finally identical with the eternal good, as perceived by such holy visionaries as Saint Francis and Saint Paul. Love properly understood is, therefore, a kind of ladder by which the soul progresses from lower to higher things. As he pursues his theme, Bembo becomes more and more enraptured and ends with a vision of the soul ravished by heavenly beauty, purged of the flesh, and admitted to the feast of the angels. One of the spirited ladies in the court, Emilia Pia, plucks his garment and gently reminds him that he also has a body.”

From Castiglione’s The Courtier From Book 1, Sections 25—26

[GRACE]

“"" Perhaps I am able to tell you what a perfect Courtier ought to be, but not to teach you how ye should do to be one. Notwithstanding, to fulfill your request in what I am able, although it be (in manner) in a proverb that Additional excerpts from Bembo’s discourse can be found in the NAEL Archive.

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Grace! is not to be learned, | say unto you, whoso mindeth to be gracious or to have a good grace in the exercises of the body (presupposing first that he be not of nature unapt) ought to begin betimes, and to learn his principles of cunning* men. The which thing how necessary a matter Philip, king of Macedonia,’ thought it, a man may gather in that his will was that Aristotle, so famous a philosopher, and perhaps the greatest that ever hath been in the world, should be the man that should instruct Alexander, his son, in

the first principles of letters. And of men whom we know nowadays, mark how well and with what a good grace Sir Galeazzo Sanseverino, master of the horse to the French king, doth all exercises of the body; and that because,

besides the natural disposition of person that is in him, he hath applied all his study to learn of cunning men, and to have continually excellent men about him, and, of every one, to choose the best of that they have skill in. For as in wrestling, in vaulting, and in learning to handle sundry kind of weapons he hath taken for his guide our Master Peter Mount, who (as you know) is the

true and only master of all artificial? force and sleight, so in riding, in jousting, and in every other feat, he hath always had before his eyes the most perfectest that hath been known to be in those professions. “He therefore that will be a good scholar, beside the practicing of good things, must evermore set all his diligence to be like his master, and, if it

were possible, change himself into him. And when he hath had some entry,’ it profiteth him much to behold sundry men of that profession; and, governing himself with that good judgment that must always be his guide, go about to pick out, sometime of one and sometime of another, sundry matters. And even as the bee in the green meadows flieth always about the grass choosing out flowers, so shall our Courtier steal this grace from them that to his seeming have it, and from each one that parcel® that shall be most worthy praise. And not do as a friend of ours whom you all know, that thought he resembled much King Ferdinand the Younger, of Aragon, and regarded not to resemble him in any other point but in the often lifting up his head, wrying, therewithal,’ a part of his mouth, the which custora the king had gotten by infirmity. And many such there are that think they do much, so they resemble a great man in somewhat, and take many times the thing in him that worst becometh him. “But I, imagining with myself often times how this grace cometh, leaving apart such as have it from above, find one rule that is most general which in this part (methink) taketh place’ in all things belonging to a man, in word or deed, above all other. And that is to eschew as much as a man may, and as a sharp and dangerous rock, Affectation or curiosity,’ and, to speak a new word, to use in everything a certain Recklessness, to cover art! withal, and

seem whatsoever he doth and sayeth to do it without pain, and, as it were, not

1. Grace had a wide range of meanings for Elizabethans, and many puns were made on the word.

5. Introduction. 6. Aspect. “To his seeming”: in his opinion.

It refers especially to a natural, easy manner, and

7. Twisting awry, moreover.

also to that favor of God that can be neither earned nor deserved. “In manner’: in the manner

8. Precedence. 9. Overfastidiousness. 1. Artifice.

of; almost.

2. Knowing. “Betimes’: early. 3. Philip II (ca. 382-336

Alexander the Great. 4. Artful, skillful.

B.c.£.), the father of

nonchalance. Hoby’s

The

translation

Italian does

i.e.,

care-lessness;

“Recklessness”:

word,

not

whose

sense

clearly convey,

sprezzatura: a natural, easy grace.

is

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minding? it. And of this do I believe grace is much derived, for in rare matters and well brought to pass every man knoweth the hardness of them, so that a readiness therein maketh great wonder. And contrariwise to use force and, as they say, to hale by the hair, giveth a great disgrace and maketh everything, how great soever it be, to be little esteemed. Therefore that may be said to be a very? art that appeareth not to be art; neither ought a man to put more diligence in anything than in covering it, for in case it be open, it loseth credit clean, and maketh a man little set by.* And I remember that I have read in my days that there were some most excellent orators which among other their cares enforced themselves to make every man believe that they had no sight? in letters, and dissembling their cunning, made semblant?® their orations to be made very simply, and rather as nature and truth made them than study and art, the which if it had been openly known would have put a doubt in the people’s mind, for fear lest he beguiled them. You may see then how to show art and such bent’ study taketh away the grace of everything. * * *#99 From Book 4, Sections 49—73 [THE LADDER OF LOVE|

Then the Lord Gaspar:* “I remember,” quoth he, “that these lords yesternight, reasoning of the Courtier’s qualities, did allow him to be a lover; and in making rehearsal? of as much as hitherto hath been spoken, a man may pick out a conclusion that the Courtier which with his worthiness and credit must incline his prince to virtue’ must in manner of necessity be aged, for knowledge cometh very seldom-time before years, and specially in matters that be learned with experience.

I cannot

see, when he is well drawn? in

years, how it will stand well with him to be a lover, considering, as it hath been said the other night, love frameth not with? old men, and the tricks

that in young men be gallantness, courtesy, and preciseness* so acceptable to women, in them are mere follies and fondness? to be laughed at, and purchase him that useth them hatred of women and mocks of others. Therefore, in case this your Aristotle, an old Courtier, were a lover and practiced the feats that young lovers do, as some that we have seen in our days, I fear me he would forget to teach his prince; and peradventure boys would mock him behind his back, and women

would have none other delight in him but

to make him a jesting-stock.” Then said the Lord Octavian:° “Since all the other qualities appointed to the Courtier are meet’ for him, although he be old, methink we should not then bar him from this happiness to love.”

2. Noticing. 3. True. 4. Lightly regarded. “Clean”: entirely.

5. Skill, insight.

6. Pretended. 7. Assiduous.

1. The courtier’s role in counseling his prince had been discussed in the preceding part of Book 4. 2. Advanced. 3. Is not suitable to. 4. Excessive neatness.

8. Gaspar Pallavicino, whose attitude in the dialogueis usually that of the misogynist. For an uncut version of the discussion that ensues on his

5. Foolishness. “In them”: i.e., in old men. 6. Ottaviano Fregoso, a soldier, later doge of Genoa.

remarks here, see the NAEL Archive. 9. Reviewing.

fe

Suitable.

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“Nay rather,” quoth the Lord Gaspar, “to take this love from him is a perfection over and above, and a making him to live happily out of misery and wretchedness.”

Then M. Peter* after a while’s silence, somewhat settling himself as though he should entreat upon a weighty matter, said thus: “My lords, to show that old men may love not.only without slander, but otherwhile? more happily than young men, I must be enforced to make a little discourse to declare what love is, and wherein consisteth the happiness that lovers may have. Therefore I beseech you give the hearing with needfulness, for I hope to make you understand that it were not unfitting for any man here to be a lover, in case he were fifteen or twenty years elder than M. Morello.”! And here, after they had laughed awhile, M. Peter proceeded: “I say, therefore, that according as it is defined of the wise men of old time, love is

nothing else but a certain coveting to enjoy beauty;? and forsomuch as coveting longeth for nothing but for things known, it is requisite that knowledge go evermore before coveting, which of his own nature willeth the good, but of himself is blind and knoweth it not. Therefore hath nature so ordained that to every virtue? of knowledge there is annexed a virtue of longing. And because in our soul there be three manner ways to know, namely, by sense, reason, and understanding:* of sense ariseth appetite or longing, which

is common

to us with brute beasts; of reason

ariseth election or

choice, which is proper’ to man; of understanding, by the which man may be partner with angels, ariseth will. Even as therefore the sense knoweth not but sensible matters and that which may be felt, so the appetite or coveting only desireth the same; and even as the understanding is bent but to behold things that may be understood, so is that will only fed with spiritual goods. Man of nature endowed with reason, placed, as it were, in the middle between these two extremities, may, through his choice inclining to sense or reaching to understanding, come nigh to the coveting sometime of the one, sometime of the other part. In these sorts therefore may beauty be coveted; the general name whereof may be applied to all things, either natural or artificial, that are framed in good proportion and due temper,° as their nature beareth. But speaking of the beauty that we mean, which is only it that appeareth in bodies, and especially in the face of man, and moveth this fervent coveting which we call love, we will term it an influence of the heavenly bountifulness, the which for all it stretcheth over all things that be created (like the light of the sun), yet when it findeth out a face well proportioned, and framed with a certain lively agreement of several colors, and set forth with lights and shadows, and with an orderly distance and limits of lines, thereinto it distilleth itself and appeareth most well favored, and decketh out and lighteneth the subject where it shineth with a marvelous grace and 8. Pietro

Bembo

grammarian,

(1470-1547),

poet,

Platonist,

and historian, later a cardinal.

He

undertakes to prove that it is suitable for an older courtier to be (in a special sense) a lover. 9. Sometimes. 1. Morello da Ortona, a courtier and musician. “In case”: even if.

2. The definition derives from Plato’s Sympo-

sium. 3. Power.

4. Direct intellectual apprehension, need of reasoning. “Manner”: kinds of.

without

5. Distinctive. 6. The right mixture or combination of elements. Bembo’s definition of beauty, as of love, derives from Plato.

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glistering,’ like the sunbeams that strike against beautiful plate of fine gold wrought and set with precious jewels, so that it draweth unto it men’s eyes with pleasure, and piercing through them imprinteth himself in the soul, and with an unwonted sweetness all to-stirreth® her and delighteth, and setting her on fire maketh her to covet him.

“Do you believe, M. Morello,” quoth then Count Lewis,’ that beauty is always so good a thing as M. Peter Bembo speaketh of?” “Not I, in good sooth,” answered M. Morello. “But | remember rather that I have seen many beautiful women of a most ill inclination, cruel and spiteful, and it seemeth that, in a manner, it happeneth always so, for beauty maketh them proud, and pride, cruel.”

Count Lewis said, smiling: “To you perhaps they seem cruel, because they content you not with it that you would have. But cause M. Peter Bembo to teach you in what sort old men ought to covet beauty, and what to seek at their ladies’ hands, and what to content themselves withal; and in not pass-

ing out of these bounds ye shall see that they shall be neither proud cruel, and will satisfy you with what you shall require.” M. Morello seemed then somewhat out of patience, and said: “I will know the thing that toucheth' me not. But cause you to be taught how young men ought to covet this beauty that are not so fresh and lusty as men be.”

nor

not the old

Here Sir Frederick,” to pacify M. Morello and to break their talk, would not suffer Count Lewis to make answer, but interrupting him said: “Per-

haps M. Morello is not altogether out of the way in saying that beauty is not always good, for the beauty of women is many times cause of infinite evils in the world—hatred, war, mortality, and destruction, whereof the razing of

Troy* can be a good witness; and beautiful women

for the most part be

either proud and cruel, as is said, or unchaste; but M. Morello would find

no fault with that. There be also many wicked men that have the comeliness of a beautiful countenance, and it seemeth that nature hath so shaped

them because they may be the readier to deceive, and that this amiable look

were like a bait that covereth the hook.” Then M. Peter Bembo: “Believe not,’ quoth he, “but* beauty is always good.” Here Count Lewis, because he would return again to his former purpose, interrupted him and said: “Since M. Morello passeth> not to understand that which is so necessary for him, teach it me, and show me how old men

may come by this happiness of love, for I will not care to be counted old, so it may profit me.” M. Peter Bembo laughed, and said: “First will I take the error out of these gentlemen's mind, and afterward will I satisfy you also.” So beginning

7. Glittering, sparkling. 8. Moves violently. In this passage, “it” and “him” refer to beauty, “her” to the soul. 9. Lodovico Canossa, who had

earlier

dis-

coursed on grace. 1.

Concerns.

2.) Federico Fregoso, later archbishop of Salerno.

3. The destruction of Troy by the Greeks, celebrated in Homer's Iliad, was caused by the Trojan Paris's abduction of Helen, the most beautiful woman

in the world.

4. l.e., anything but that. 5, Gares.

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afresh: “My Lords,” quoth he, “I would not that with speaking ill of beauty, which is a holy thing, any of us as profane and wicked should purchase him

the wrath of God. alee foes to give M. Morello and Sir Frederick warning, that they lose not their sight, as Stesichorus did—a pain most meet® £6e whoso dispraiseth beauty—I say that beauty cometh of God and is like a circle, the goodness whereof is the center. And therefore, as there can be no circle without a center, no more can beauty be without goodness. Whereupon doth very seldom an ill’ soul dwell in a beautiful body. And therefore is the outward beauty a true sign of the inward goodness, and in bodies this comeliness is imprinted, more and less, as it were, for a mark of the soul, whereby she is outwardly known; as in trees, in which the beauty of the buds giveth a testimony of the goodness of the fruit. And the very same happeneth in bodies, as it is seen that palmisters® by the visage know many times the conditions and otherwhile the thoughts of men. And, which is more, in beasts also a man may discern by the face the quality of the courage,? which in the body declareth itself as much as it can. Judge you how plainly in the face of a lion, a horse, and an eagle, a man

shall discern anger, fierceness,

and stoutness; in lambs and doves, simpleness and very innocency; the crafty subtlety in foxes and wolves; and the like, in a manner,

in all other living

creatures. The foul,' therefore, for the most part be also evil, and the beautiful good. Therefore it may be said that beauty is a face pleasant, merry, comely, and to be desired for goodness; and foulness a face dark, uglesome,” unpleasant, and to be shunned for ill. And in case you will consider all things, you shall find that whatsoever is good and profitable hath also evermore the comeliness of beauty. Behold the state of this great engine of the world,’ which God created for the health and preservation of everything that was made: the heaven round beset with so many heavenly lights; and in the middle the earth environed with the elements and upheld with the very weight of itself; the sun, that compassing about? giveth light to the whole, and in winter season draweth to the lowermost sign,’ afterward by little and little climbeth again to the other part; the moon, that of him taketh her light, according as she draweth nigh or goeth farther from him; and the other five stars® that diversely keep the very same course. These things among themselves have such force by the knitting together of an order so necessarily framed that, with altering them any one jot, they should all be loosed and the world would decay. They have also such beauty and comeliness that all the wits men have cannot imagine a more beautiful matter. “Think now of the shape of man, which may be called a little world, in whom every parcel of his body is seen to be necessarily framed by art and not by hap,’ and then the form altogether most beautiful, so that it were a hard matter to judge whether the members (as the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the ears, the arms, the breast, and in like manner the other parts) give either more profit to the countenance and the rest of the body, or comeliness. The

6. Fitting. Stesichorus: “a notable poet which lost his sight for writing against Helena, and recanting,

2. Horribly ugly (apparently first used by Hoby). 3. Mechanism of the universe.

had his sight restored him again” [Hoby’s note]. Th Menallt

4. Revolving. 5. Of the zodiac.

8. Fortune-tellers. 9. Heart. 1. Ugly.

6. L.e., the five other planets then known: cury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. . By skill rather than by chance.

Mer-

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like may be said of all other living creatures. Behold the feathers of fowls, the leaves and boughs of trees, which be given them of nature to keep them in their being, and yet have they withal a very great sightliness. Leave nature, and come to art. What thing is so necessary in sailing vessels as the forepart, the sides, the main yards, the mast, the sails, the stern, oars, anchors, and

tacklings? All these things notwithstanding are so well-favored in the eye that unto whoso beholdeth them they seem to have been found out as well for pleasure as for profit. Pillars and great beams uphold high buildings and palaces, and yet are they no less pleasureful unto the eyes of the beholders than profitable to the buildings. When men began first to build, in the middle of temples and houses they reared the ridge of the roof, not to make the works to have a better show, but because the water might the more commodiously avoid® on both sides; yet unto profit there was forthwith adjoined a fair sightliness, so that if, under the sky where there falleth neither hail nor rain, a man should build a temple without a reared ridge, it is to be thought that it could have neither a sightly show nor any beauty. Besides other things, therefore, it giveth a great praise to the world in saying that it is beautiful. It is praised in saying the beautiful heaven, beautiful earth, beautiful sea, beautiful rivers, beautiful woods, trees, gardens, beautiful cities, beautiful churches, houses, armies. In conclusion, this comely

and holy beauty is a wondrous setting out of everything. And it may be said that good and beautiful be after a sort one self? thing, especially in the bodies of men; of the beauty whereof the nighest cause, I suppose, is the beauty of the soul; the which, as a partner of the right and heavenly beauty, maketh sightly and beautiful whatever she toucheth, and most of all if the body where she dwelleth be not of so vile a matter that she cannot imprint in it her property.' Therefore beauty is the true monument and spoil? of the victory of the soul, when she with heavenly influence beareth rule over material and gross nature, and with her light overcometh the darkness of the body. It is not, then, to be spoken that beauty maketh women proud or cruel, although it seem so to M. Morello. Neither yet ought beautiful women to bear the blame of that hatred, mortality, and destruction which the unbridled

appetites of men are the cause of. I will not now deny but it is possible also to find in the world beautiful women unchaste; yet not because beauty inclineth them to unchaste living, for it rather plucketh them from it, and lead-

eth them into the way of virtuous conditions, through the affinity that beauty hath with goodness; but otherwhile? ill bringing-up, the continual provocations of lovers’ tokens,* poverty, hope, deceits, fear, and a thousand

other matters overcome the steadfastness, yea, of beautiful and good women;

and for these and like causes may also beautiful men become wicked.” Then said the Lord Cesar:? “In case the Lord Gaspar’s saying be true of yesternight, there is no doubt but the fair women be more chaste than the foul.” “And what was my saying?” quoth the Lord Gaspar. The Lord Cesar answered: “If Ido well bear in mind, your saying was that the women that are sued to always refuse to satisfy him that sueth to them,

8. Escape. 9, Same.

1. Attribute, quality. 2. Reward, trophy.

3. Sometimes. 4. Gifts.

5. Cesar Gonzaga, cousin of Castiglione.

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but those that are not sued to, sue to others. There is no doubt but the beautiful women have always more suitors, and be more instantly laid at® in love,

than the foul. Therefore the beautiful always deny, and consequently be more chaste than the foul, which, not being sued to, sue unto others.”

M. Peter Bembo laughed, and said: “This argument cannot be answered toi; Afterward he proceeded: “It chanceth also, oftentimes, that as the other senses, so the sight is deceived and judgeth a face beautiful which indeed is not beautiful. And because in the eyes and in the whole countenance of some woman a man beholdeth otherwhile a certain lavish wantonness painted, with dishonest flickerings,’ many, whom that manner delighteth because it promiseth them an easiness to come by the thing that they covet, call it beauty; but indeed it is a cloaked un-shamefastness,* unworthy of so honorable and holy a name.” M. Peter Bembo

held his peace, but those lords still were earnest upon

him to speak somewhat more of this love and of the way to enjoy beauty aright, and at the last, “Methink,” quoth he, “I have showed plainly enough that old men may love more happily than young, which was my drift;? therefore it belongeth not to me to enter any farther.” Count Lewis answered: “You have better declared the unluckiness of young men than the happiness of old men, whom you have not as yet taught what way they must follow in this love of theirs; only you have said that they must suffer themselves to be guided by reason, and the opinion of many is that it is unpossible for love to stand with reason.” Bembo notwithstanding sought to make an end of reasoning, but the duchess! desired him to say on, and he began thus afresh: “Too unlucky were the nature of man, if our soul, in which this so fervent coveting may lightly? arise, should be driven to nourish it with that only which is common to her with beasts, and could not turn it to the other noble part,*? which is

proper to her. Therefore, since it is so your pleasure, I wil! not refuse to reason upon this noble matter. And because | know myself unworthy to talk of the most holy mysteries of Love, | beseech him to lead my thought and my tongue so that I may show this excellent Courtier how to love contrary to the wonted* manner of the common ignorant sort; and even as from my childhood I have dedicated all my whole life unto him, so also now that my words may be answerable to the same intent, and to the praise of him. I say, therefore, that since the nature of man in youthful age is so much inclined to sense, it may be granted the Courtier, while he is young, to love sensually; but in case afterward also, in his riper years, he chance to be set on fire with this coveting of love, he ought to be good and circumspect, and heedful that he beguile not himself to be led willfully into the wretchedness that in young men deserveth more to be pitied than blamed, and contrariwise in old men more to be blamed than pitied. Therefore when an amiable coun6. Persistently urged. 7. Hints of lewdness. 8. Immodesty. 9. Purpose. In a passage omitted above, Bembo had argued that old men, whose senses have cooled, find it easier than young men to be guided in love by reason and can therefore more easily avoid the miseries that, he argues, inevit-

ably follow from sensual love. 1. Elisabetta Gonzaga, duchess of Urbino, the presiding figure in the life of the court and in these dialogues. 2. Easily, readily. 3. Le., reason. 4. Accustomed.

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tenance of a beautiful woman cometh in his sight, that is accompanied with noble conditions and honest? behaviors, so that, as one practiced in love, he wotteth well that his hue® hath an agreement with hers, as soon as he is

aware that his eyes snatch that image and carry it to the heart, and that the soul beginneth to behold it with pleasure, and feeleth within herself the influence that stirreth her and by little and little setteth her in heat, and that those lively spirits’ that twinkle out through the eyes put continually fresh nourishment to the fire, he ought in this beginning to seek a speedy remedy and to raise up reason, and with her to fence the fortress of his heart, and to shut in such wise® the passages against sense and appetites that they may enter neither with force nor subtle practice.’ Thus, if the flame be quenched, the jeopardy is also quenched. But in case it continue or increase, then must the Courtier determine, when he perceiveth he is taken, to shun

throughly! all filthiness of common love, and so enter into the holy way of love with the guide of reason, and first consider that the body where that

beauty shineth is not the fountain from whence beauty springeth, but rather because beauty is bodiless and, as we have said, an heavenly shining beam, she loseth much of her honor when she is coupled with that vile subject? and full of corruption: because the less she is partner thereof, the more perfect she is, and, clean sundered from it, is most perfect. And as a man heareth not with his mouth, nor smelleth with his ears, no more can he also in any

manner wise enjoy beauty, nor satisfy the desire that she stirreth up in our minds, with feeling, but with the sense unto whom beauty is the very butt to level at,’ namely, the virtue? of seeing. Let him lay aside, therefore, the

blind judgment of the sense, and enjoy with his eyes the brightness, the comeliness, the loving sparkles, laughters, gestures, and all the other pleasant furnitures’ of beauty, especially with hearing the sweetness of her voice, the tunableness® of her words, the melody of her singing and playing on instruments (in case the woman beloved be a musician); and so shall he with

most dainty food feed the soul through which have little bodily substance in them without entering farther toward the body otherwise than honest. Afterward, let him reverence his woman,

the means of these two senses and be the ministers of reason, with coveting unto any longing obey, please, and honor with all

and reckon her more dear to him than his own

life,

and prefer all her commodities’ and pleasures before his own, and love no less in her the beauty of the mind than of the body. Therefore let him have a care not to suffer her to run into any error, but with lessons and good exhortations seek always to frame her to modesty, to temperance, to true honesty, and so to work that there may never take place in her other than pure thoughts and far wide from all filthiness of vices. And thus in sowing of virtue in the garden of that mind, he shall also gather the fruits of most beautiful conditions, and savor them with a marvelous good relish. And this shall be the right engendering and imprinting of beauty in beauty, the which some hold opinion to be the end® of love. In this manner shall our Courtier 5. Virtuous

(as also several times in the follow-

ing pages). “Conditions”: personal qualities. 6. Aspect. “Wotteth”: knows. 7. Vital, animating powers. Cf. p. 186, n. 2. 8. In such a way. 9. Treachery. 1. Thoroughly.

l.e., the body.

. Target to aim at. Power. Ornaments. . Musical quality. NQAUBWH Conveniences. ie) .

Goal.

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be most acceptable to his lady, and she will always show herself toward him tractable, lowly,’ and sweet in language, and as willing to please him as to be beloved of him; and the wills of them both shall be most honest and agreeable, and they consequently shall be most happy.” Here M. Morello: “The engendering,” quoth he, “of beauty in beauty aright were the engendering of a beautiful child in a beautiful woman; and I would think it a more manifest token a great deal that she loved her lover, if

she pleased him with this than with the sweetness of language that you speak of.” M. Peter Bembo laughed, and said: “You must not, M. Morello, pass your bounds. I may tell you it is not a small token that a woman loveth when she giveth unto her lover her beauty, which is so precious a matter; and by the

ways that be a passage to the soul (that is to say, the sight and the hearing) sendeth the looks of her eyes, the image of her countenance, and the voice of her words, that pierce into the lover’s heart and give a witness of her love.” M. Morello said: “Looks and words may be, and oftentimes are, false wit-

nesses. Therefore whoso hath not a better pledge of love, in my judgment he is in an ill assurance. And surely I looked! still that you would have made this woman of yours somewhat more courteous and free toward the Courtier than my Lord Julian* hath made his; but meseemeth ye be both of the property of those judges that, to appear wise, give sentence against their own.” Bembo said: “I am well pleased to have this woman much more courteous toward my Courtier not young than the Lord Julian’s is to the young; and that with good reason, because mine coveteth but honest matters, and therefore

may the woman grant him them all without blame. But my Lord Julian’s woman, that is not so assured of the modesty of the young man, ought to grant him the honest matters only, and deny him the dishonest. Therefore more happy is mine, that hath granted him whatsoever he requireth, than the other, that hath part granted and part denied. And because* you may moreover the better understand that reasonable love is more happy than sensual, I say unto you that selfsame things in sensual ought to be denied otherwhile, and in reasonable granted; because in the one they be honest, and in the other dishonest. Therefore the woman,

to please her good lover, besides

the granting him merry countenances, familiar and secret talk, jesting, dallying, hand-in-hand, may also lawfully and without blame come to kissing, which in sensual love, according to the Lord Julian’s rules, is not lawful. For since a kiss is a knitting together both of body and soul, it is to be feared lest the sensual lover will be more inclined to the part of the body than of the soul; but the reasonable lover wotteth well that although the mouth be a parcel’ of the body, yet is it an issue for the words that be the interpreters of the soul, and for the inward breath, which is also called the soul; and there-

fore hath a delight to join his mouth with the woman’s beloved with a kiss, not to stir him to any unhonest desire, but because he feeleth that that bond is the opening of an entry to the souls, which, drawn with a coveting the one of the other, pour themselves by turn the one into the other’s body, 9. Modest. 1. Expected. 2. Giuliano de’ Medici, younger son of Lorenzo the Magnificent. In Book 3, discussing the ideal courtier’s female counterpart, he expresses the

opinions alluded to here. 3. Nature. 4. So that. Byebants

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and be so mingled together that each of them hath two souls, and one alone, so framed of them both, ruleth, in a manner, two bodies. Whereupon a kiss

may be said to be rather a coupling together of the soul than of the body, because it hath such force in her that it draweth her unto it, and, as it were,

separateth her from the body. For this do all chaste lovers covet a kiss as a coupling of souls together. And therefore Plato,° the divine lover, saith that in kissing his soul came as far as his lips to depart out of the body. And because the separating of the soul from the matters of the sense, and the thorough coupling of her with matters of understanding, may be betokened by a kiss, Solomon saith’ in his heavenly book of ballads, ‘Oh that he would kiss me with a kiss of his mouth,’ to express the desire he had that his soul might be ravished through heavenly love to the beholding of heavenly beauty in such manner that, coupling herself inwardly with it, she might forsake the body.” They stood all hearkening heedfully to Bembo’s reasoning, and after he had stayed® a while and saw that none spake, he said: “Since you have made me to begin to show our not-young Courtier this happy love, I will lead him yet somewhat farther forwards; because to stand still at this stay were somewhat perilous for him, considering, as we have oftentimes said, the soul is most inclined to the senses, and for all? reason with discourse chooseth

well, and knoweth that beauty not to spring of the body, and therefore setteth a bridle to the unhonest desires, yet to behold it always in that body doth oftentimes corrupt the right judgment. And where no other inconvenience ensueth upon it, one’s absence from the wight! beloved carrieth a great passion with it; because the influence of that beauty when it is present giveth a wondrous delight to the lover and, setting his heart on fire, quickeneth and melteth certain virtues in a trance and congealed in the soul, the which, nourished with the heat of love, flow about and go bubbling nigh the heart, and thrust out through the eyes those spirits which be most fine vapors made of the purest and clearest part of the blood, which receive the image of beauty” and deck it with a thousand sundry furnitures. Whereupon the soul taketh a delight, and with a certain wonder is aghast, and yet enjoyeth she it, and, as it were, astonied* together with the pleasure, feeleth the

fear and reverence that men accustomably have toward holy matters, and

thinketh herself to be in paradise. The lover, therefore, that considereth only

the beauty in the body loseth this treasure and happiness as soon as the woman beloved with her departure leaveth the eyes without their brightness, and consequently the soul as a widow without her joy. For since beauty is far off, that influence of love setteth not the heart on fire, as it did in presence. Whereupon the pores be dried up and withered, and yet doth the remembrance of beauty somewhat stir those virtues of the soul in such wise that they seek to scatter abroad the spirits, and they, finding the ways closed up, have no issue, and still they seek to get out, and so with those shootings

enclosed prick the soul and torment her bitterly, as young children when in 6. Plato’s discussion of love in The Symposium. 7. Song of Solomon 1.2. “Betokened”: symbolized, 8. Paused.

9. “For all”: although. 1. Person.

2. Love “melts” certain elements (“virtues”) that were before “congealed,” releasing the vital blood “spirits” that take in the image of beauty through the eyes.

3. Stunned,

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their tender gums they begin to breed teeth. And hence come the tears, sighs, vexations, and torments of lovers; because the soul is always in affliction and travail and, in a manner, waxeth wood,’ until the beloved beauty cometh before her once again, and then she is immediately pacified and taketh breath, and, throughly bent to it, is nourished with most dainty food, and by her will would never depart from so sweet a sight. To avoid, therefore, the torment of this absence, and to enjoy beauty without passion, the Courtier by the help of reason must full and wholly call back again the coveting of the body to beauty alone, and, in what he can, behold it in itself simple and pure, and frame it within his imagination sundered from all matter, and so make it friendly and loving to his soul, and there enjoy it, and have it with him day and night, in every time and place, without mistrust ever to lose it; keeping always fast in mind that the body is a most diverse® thing from beauty, and not only not increaseth but diminisheth the perfection of it. In this wise shall our not-young Courtier be out of all bitterness and wretchedness that young men feel, in a manner continually, as jealousies, suspicions, disdains, angers, desperations, and certain rages full of madness, whereby many times they be led into so great error that some do not only beat the women whom they love, but rid themselves out of their life. He shall do no wrong to the husband, father, brethren, or kinsfolk of the woman beloved. He shall not bring her in slander. He shall not be in case with® much ado otherwhile to refrain his eyes and tongue from discovering his desires to others. He shall not take thought’ at departure or in absence, because he shall evermore carry his precious treasure about with him shut fast within his heart. And besides, through the virtue of imagination, he shall fashion within himself that beauty much more fair than it is indeed. But among these commodities the lover shall find another yet far greater, in case he will take this love for a stair, as it were, to climb up to another far higher than it. The which he shall bring to pass, if he will go and consider with himself

what a strait bond it is to be always in the trouble to behold the beauty of one body alone. And therefore, to come out of this so narrow a room,® he shall gather in his thought by little and little so many ornaments that, meddling? all beauties together, he shall make a universal concept, and bring the multitude of them to the unity of one alone, that is generally spread over all the nature of man. And thus shall he behold no more the particular beauty of one woman,

but an universal, that decketh out all bodies. Whereupon,

being made dim with this greater light, he shall not pass upon! the lesser, and, burning in a more excellent flame, he shall little esteem it that* he set great store by at the first. This stair of love, though it be very noble and such as few arrive at it, yet is it not in this sort to be called perfect, forsomuch as where the imagination is of force to make conveyance, and hath no knowiedge but through those beginnings that the senses help her withal, she is not clean purged from gross darkness; and therefore, though she do consider that universal beauty in sunder and in itself alone, yet doth she not well and clearly discern it, nor without some doubtfulness, by reason of the

4. 5. 6. 7.

Mad, crazy. Very different. In the situation of having. Be distressed.

8. 9. 1. 2.

Space. Mingling. : Concern himself with. Le., the thing that.

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agreement that the fancies have with the body. Wherefore such as come to this love are like young birds almost flush,? which for all they flutter a little their tender wings, yet dare they not stray far from the nest, nor commit themselves to the wind and open weather. When

our Courtier, there-

fore, shall be come to this point, although he may be called a good and happy lover, in respect of them that be drowned in the misery of sensual love, yet will I not have him to set his heart at rest, but boldly proceed farther, following the highway, after his guide* that leadeth him to the point of true happiness. And thus, instead of going out of his wit’ with thought, as he must do that will consider the bodily beauty, he may come into his wit to behold the beauty that is seen with the eyes of the mind, which then begin to be sharp and through-seeing when the eyes of the body lose the flower of their sightliness. “Therefore the soul, rid of vices, purged with the studies of true philosophy, occupied in spiritual, and exercised in matters of understanding, turning her to the beholding of her own substance, as it were raised out of a most deep sleep, openeth the eyes that all men have and few occupy,° and seeth in herself a shining beam of that light which is the true image of the angel-like beauty partened’ with her, whereof she also partneth with the body a feeble shadow;

therefore, waxed

blind about earthly matters,

is

made most quick of sight about heavenly. And otherwhile,* when the stirring virtues of the body are withdrawn alone through earnest beholding, either? fast bound through sleep, when she is not hindered by them, she feeleth a certain privy! smell of the right angel-like beauty, and, ravished with the shining of that light, beginneth to be inflamed, and so greedily followeth after, that in a manner she waxeth drunken and beside herself, for coveting to couple herself with it, having found, to her weening,’” the footsteps of God,

in the beholding of whom, as in her happy end, she seeketh to settle herself. And therefore, burning in this most happy flame, she ariseth to the noblest part of her, which is the understanding, and there, no more shadowed with

the dark night of earthly matters, seeth the heavenly beauty; but yet doth she not for all that enjoy it altogether perfectly, because she beholdeth it only in her particular? understanding, which cannot conceive the passing* great universal beauty; whereupon, not throughly satisfied with this benefit, love giveth unto the soul a greater happiness. For like as through the particular beauty of one body he guideth her to the universal beauty of all bodies, even so in the last degree of perfection through particular understanding he guideth her to the universal understanding. Thus the soul kindled in the most holy fire of heavenly love fleeth to couple herself with the nature of angels, and not only clean forsaketh sense, but hath no more need of the discourse of reason, for, being changed into an angel, she understandeth all things that may be understood; and without any veil or cloud she seeth the main sea of the pure heavenly beauty, and receiveth it into her, and enjoyeth that sovereign happiness that cannot be comprehended of the senses. Since, therefore, the beauties which we daily see with these our dim eyes in bodies . Fledged, fit to fly. Le., reason.

. Mind, intellect. Use. . Shared. oa) . Sometimes. BW SDV

O3Or: 1. Intimate.

2. Thinking, opinion. 3. Individual. 4. Surpassing.

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subject to corruption, that nevertheless be nothing else but dreams and most thin shadows of beauty, seem unto us so well favored and comely that oftentimes they kindle in us a most burning fire, and with such delight that we reckon no happiness may be compared to it that we feel otherwhile through the only look’ which the beloved countenance of a woman casteth at us; what happy wonder, what blessed abashment, may we reckon that to be that taketh the souls which come to have a sight of the heavenly beauty? What sweet flame, what sweet incense, may a man believe that to be which ariseth of the fountain of the sovereign and right beauty? Which is the origin of all other beauty, which never increaseth nor diminisheth, always beautiful, and of itself, as well on the one part as on the other, most simple, only like itself, and partner of none other, but in such wise beautiful that all other

beautiful things be beautiful because they be partners of the beauty of it. “This is the beauty unseparable from the high bounty which with her voice calleth and draweth to her all things; and not only to the endowed with

understanding giveth understanding, to the reasonable reason, to the sensual sense and appetite to live, but also partaketh with plants and stones, as a print of herself, stirring, and the natural provocation of their properties.° So much, therefore, is this love greater and happier than others, as the cause that stirreth it is more excellent. And therefore, as common

fire trieth gold

and maketh it fine, so this most holy fire in souls destroyeth and consumeth whatsoever is mortal in them, and relieveth and maketh beautiful the heav-

enly part, which at the first by reason of the sense was dead and buried in them. This is the great fire in the which, the poets write, that Hercules was

burned on the top of the mountain Oeta,’ and, through that consuming with fire, after his death was holy and immortal. This is the fiery bush of Moses;® the divided tongues of fire;’ the inflamed chariot of Elias;'! which

doubleth grace and happiness in their souls that be worthy to see it, when they forsake this earthly baseness and flee up into heaven. Let us, therefore, bend all our force and thoughts of soul to this most holy light, which showeth us the way which leadeth to heaven; and after it, putting off the affections we were clad withal at our coming down, let us climb up the stairs which at the lowermost step have the shadow of sensual beauty, to the high mansion place where the heavenly, amiable, and right beauty dwelleth, which lieth hid in the innermost secrets of God, lest unhallowed

eyes should come to the sight of it; and there shall we find a most happy end for our desires, true rest for our travails, certain remedy for miseries, a most

healthful

medicine

for sickness,

a most

sure

haven

in the troublesome

storms of the tempestuous sea of this life. “What tongue mortal is there then, Oh most holy Love, that can sufficiently praise thy worthiness? Thou most beautiful, most good, most wise,

nia where is the sepulcher of Hercules” [Hoby’s

9. “And there appeared unto them |[i.e., the Apostles] cloven tongues like as to fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance” (Acts

note].

2.3—4).

5. Through the look alone. 6. Le., motion (“stirring”) and, as we would say, their natural instincts.

7. “A mountain

between Thessalia and Macedo-

8. “And the angel of the Lord appeared unto... [Moses] in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed” (Exodus 3.2).

1. The prophet Elijah. “And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven” (2 Kings 2.11).

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art derived of the unity of heavenly beauty, goodness, and wisdom, and therein dost thou abide, and unto it through it, as in a circle, turnest about.

Thou the most sweet bond of the world, a mean betwixt heavenly and earthly things, with a bountiful temper bendest the high virtues* to the government of the lower, and turning back the minds of mortal men to their beginning, couplest them with it. Thou with agreement bringest the elements in one, and stirrest nature to bring forth that which ariseth and is born for the succession of the life. Thou bringest severed matters into one, to the unperfect givest perfection, to the unlike likeness, to enmity amity, to the earth fruits, to the sea calmness, to the heaven lively light. Thou art the father of true pleasures, of grace, peace, lowliness, and goodwill, enemy to rude wildness

and sluggishness—to be short, the beginning and end of all goodness. And forsomuch as thou delightest to dwell in the flower of beautiful bodies and beautiful souls, I suppose that thy abiding-place is now here among us, and from above otherwhile showest thyself a little to the eyes and minds of them that be worthy to see thee. Therefore vouchsafe, Lord, to hearken to our prayers, pour thyself into our hearts, and with the brightness of thy most

holy fire lighten our darkness, and, like a trusty guide in this blind maze, show us the right way; reform the falsehood of the senses, and after long wandering in vanity give us the right and sound joy. Make us to smell those spiritual savors that relieve the virtues of the understanding, and to hear the heavenly harmony so tunable that no discord of passion take place any more in us. Make us drunken with the bottomless fountain of contentation that always doth delight and never giveth fill, and that giveth a smack* of the right bliss unto whoso drinketh of the running and clear water thereof. Purge with the shining beams of thy light our eyes from misty ignorance, that they may no more set by? mortal beauty, and well perceive that the things which at the first they thought themselves to see be not indeed, and those that they saw not, to be in effect. Accept our souls that be offered unto thee for a sacrifice. Burn them in the lively flame that wasteth? all gross filthiness, that after they be clean sundered from the body they may be coupled with an everlasting and most sweet bond to the heavenly beauty. And we, severed from ourselves,

may be changed like right lovers into the beloved, and, after we be drawn from the earth, admitted to the feast of the angels, where, fed with immortal

ambrosia and nectar,’ in the end we may die a most happy and lively death, as in times past died the fathers of old time, whose souls with most fervent zeal of beholding, thou didst hale from the body and coupledst them with God.” When Bembo had hitherto spoken with such vehemency that a man would have thought him, as it were, ravished and beside himself, he stood still

without once moving, Lady Emilia,® which talk, took him by the “Take heed, M. Peter, the body.” 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

holding his eyes toward heaven as astonied; when the together with the rest gave most diligent ear to this plait of his garment and plucking him a little, said: that these thoughts make not your soul also to forsake

Powers. L.e., for the perpetuation of life. Taste. Set store by. Consumes,

7. The food and drink of the gods in classical mythology. 8. Emilia Pia, a widow living at court, the faithful companion of the duchess Elisabetta and the mistress of ceremonies of the discussions.

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“Madam,” answered M. Peter, “it should not be the first miracle that love

hath wrought in me.” Then the Duchess and all the rest began afresh to be instant? upon M. Bembo that he would proceed once more in his talk, and everyone thought he felt in his mind, as it were, a certain sparkle of that godly love that pricked him, and they all coveted to hear farther; but M. Bembo: “My Lords,” quoth he, “I have spoken what the holy fury of love hath, unsought for, indited! to me; now that, it seemeth, he inspireth me no more, I wot not what to say. And

I think verily that Love will not have his secrets discovered any farther, nor that the Courtier should pass the degree that his pleasure is I should show him, and therefore it is not perhaps lawful to speak any more in this matter.” “Surely,” quoth the Duchess, “if the not-young Courtier be such a one that he can follow this way which you have showed him, of right he ought to be satisfied with so great a happiness, and not to envy the younger.” Then the Lord Cesar Gonzaga: “The way,” quoth he, “that leadeth to this happiness is so steep, in my mind, that I believe it will be much ado to get to it.” The Lord Gaspar said: “I believe it be hard to get up for men, but unpossible for women.” The Lady Emilia laughed, and said: “If you fall so often to offend us, I promise you you shall be no more forgiven.” The Lord Gaspar answered: “It is no offense to you in saying that women’s souls be not so purged from passions as men’s be, nor accustomed in beholdings,” as M. Peter hath said is necessary for them to be that will taste of the heavenly love. Therefore it is not read that ever woman hath had this grace; but many men have had it, as Plato, Socrates, Plotinus,* and many other, and

a number of our holy fathers, as Saint Francis, in whom a fervent spirit of love imprinted the most holy seal of the five wounds.* And nothing but the virtue’ of love could hale up Saint Paul the Apostle to the sight of those secrets which is not lawful for man to speak of; nor show Saint Stephen the heavens open.”° Here answered the Lord Julian: “In this point men shall nothing pass women, for Socrates himself doth confess that all the mysteries of love which he knew were oped unto him by a woman, which was Diotima.’ And the

angel that with the fire of love imprinted the five wounds in Saint Francis hath also made some women worthy of the same print in our age. You must remember, moreover, that Saint Mary Magdalen® had many faults forgiven her, because she loved much; and perhaps with no less grace than Saint Paul was she many times through angelic love haled up to the third heaven. And

9. Insistent. 1. Dictated. “Fury”: frenzy; enthusiasm

6. Before being stoned to death, Saint Stephen, of one

possessed as by a god. 2. Contemplations. 3. Plotinus

(205-270

on the right hand of God” (Acts 7.56). Saint Paul’s c.£.) was

the founder

of

the Neoplatonic philosophical school of late antiquity—the tradition revived by Bembo and, especially, his predecessor the great Florentine philosopher Marsilio Ficino (1433-1499). 4. Saint

Francis

of Assisi

(1182-1226)

is sup-

posed to have received the stigmata, marking on his body the five wounds ofJesus on the Cross. 5. Power.

the first Christian martyr, said, “Behold, I see the

heavens opened, and the Son of man standing vision of the “third heaven” is in 2 Corinthians 12.2—4.

7. In Plato's Symposium, Socrates wise woman, Diotima, taught him of love. “Oped”: opened, disclosed. 8. Traditionally though baselessly converted prostitute, she became

most faithful followers.

claims that a his philosophy regarded as a one of Jesus’s

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many other, as I showed you yesterday more at large, that for love of the name of Christ have not passed upon’ life, nor feared torments, nor any other kind of death how terrible and cruel ever it were. And they were not, as M. Peter will have his Courtier to be, aged, but soft and tender maidens, and in the age

when he saith that sensual love ought to be borne withal! in men.” The Lord Gaspar began to prepare himself to speak, but the Duchess: “Of this,” quoth she, “let M. Peter be judge, and the matter shall stand to his verdict, whether women be not as meet? for heavenly love as men. But because the plead? between you may happen be too long, it shall not be amiss to defer it until tomorrow.” “Nay, tonight,” quoth the Lord Cesar Gonzaga. “And how can it be tonight?” quoth the Duchess. The Lord Cesar answered: “Because it is day already,” and showed her the light that began to enter in at the clefts of the windows. Then every man arose upon his feet with much wonder, because they had not thought that the reasonings had lasted longer than the accustomed wont, saving only that they were begun much later, and with their pleasantness had deceived so the lords’ minds that they wist* not of the going away of the hours. And not one of them felt any heaviness of sleep in his eyes, the which often happeneth when a man is up after his accustomed hour to go to bed. When the windows then were opened on the side of the palace that hath his prospect toward the high top of Mount Catri, they saw already risen in the east a fair morning like unto the color of roses, and all stars voided,’ saving only the sweet

governess

of the heaven, Venus,

which

keepeth the bounds

of the

night and the day, from which appeared to blow a sweet blast that, filling the air with a biting cold, began to quicken the tunable notes of the pretty birds among the hushing woods of the hills at hand. Whereupon they all, taking their leave with reverence of the Duchess, departed toward their lodgings without torch, the light of the day sufficing. And as they were now passing out at the great chamber door, the Lord General® turned him to the Duchess and said: “Madam, to take up the variance between the Lord Gaspar and the Lord Julian, we will assemble this night with the judge sooner than we did yesterday.” The Lady Emilia answered: “Upon condition that in case my Lord Gaspar will accuse women, and give them, as his wont is, some false report, he

will also put us in surety to stand to trial:’ for | reckon him a wavering starter.”® 1561

9. Cared for. 1, Put up with.

adopted heir of the duke. 7. l.e., he must give us some pawn

2. Fitted.

guarantee

3. Controversy. 4. Knew. 5. Vanished. >>».

Francesco

Maria

that

he will answer

(“surety”) to

the charge of

falsely accusing women. “Wont”: habit. 8. Le., one who is likely to “start’”—suddenly desert his post. della

Rovere,

nephew

and

,

Women

in Power

udor England was a patriarchal society. Though in practice many women had more influence and authority than official doctrine acknowledged, that doctrine affirmed the subordination of women in public, private, economic, and spiritual life. Sermon

writers

and

moralists

cited alleged scriptural,

medical,

moral,

historical, and philosophical “proofs” of male superiority and urged women to be chaste, silent, and obedient. These urgings could be enforced. Public ridicule was heaped on husbands perceived to be dominated by their wives, and women perceived to be scolds were on occasion brutally punished with a “brank”: a metal cage for the head, with a built-in gag. Yet from 1553 to 1603 England experienced five uninterrupted decades of female rule. What effect did this unprecedented experience have on the society’s discourse of gender relations? The answer would seem to be, precious little. Though women governed the realm, Tudor men, with very few exceptions, clung to and reiterated their misogynistic views. And none of the women introduced in this section showed either an interest in improving the lot of less privileged women in their society or a sense of solidarity with their powerful female peers. Two of them, Mary Tudor and Elizabeth, signed the death warrants of the two others, Jane Grey and Mary Stuart. In addition, Mary Tudor probably came close to having her half-sister, Elizabeth, executed, and Mary Stuart plotted her cousin Elizabeth’s assassination. These women are fascinating because they found themselves thrust into positions of almost unbelievable complexity, challenge, and danger. That one of them—Elizabeth I—not only flourished but also managed to use to her advantage the fact that she was a woman is one of the age’s great stories. Before the Reformation, some learned and ambitious women

found within con-

vents scope for both literary expression and the exercise of authority. With the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII, that option was closed, and as Protestantism gathered strength, the emphasis on marriage further narrowed for women the possibilities of an independent life. Nonetheless, many Tudor women ran households and businesses; others played prominent roles in city life and were influential in regional politics and church appointments. Protestant insistence on Scripture as the crucial guide to faith also placed a sharply increased emphasis on literacy, which contributed, over the course of the sixteenth century, to a gradual increase in the number of women writers. If public affirmations of male superiority continued, condemnations of the female sex could not, under Elizabeth, be quite so sweeping or absolute as in previous times. When the prominent humanist Sir Thomas Smith thought of how he should describe his country’s social order, he declared that “we do reject women, as those whom nature hath made to keep home and to nourish their family and children, and not to meddle with matters abroad, nor to bear office in a city or commonwealth.” Then, with a kind of nervous glance over his shoulder, he made an exception of those few in whom “the blood is respected, not the age nor the sex” —for example, the queen. Even at the top, however, women could not easily escape being defined by their marital status, sexual behavior, and reproductive potential. Such was the case for Jane Grey, matched to Guildford Dudley as a move in a dangerous political game; for Mary Tudor, with her marriage to a foreign king and her phantom pregnancies; and for Mary Stuart, with her string of disastrous marriages and reputed sexual liaisons. Imagining how the careers of these contemporary women appeared in the eyes of Elizabeth helps explain her choice to remain unwed. 193

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MARY

I (MARY

TUDOR)

ary Tudor (1516-1558) was the only surviving child of Henry VIII's first wife, - Catherine of Aragon. The king saw his daughter as a useful bargaining chip in international diplomacy—at the age of six she was engaged to be married to her cousin Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor and England’s chief ally against France— but balked at the thought of leaving his kingdom to a female heir. Blaming Catherine for failing to produce a son, he determined to seek a divorce. The pope’s refusal to grant it precipitated the Protestant Reformation in England. In the years immediately following the royal divorce and the break with Rome, Mary had good reason to believe that her life was in danger. When she refused to take the Oaths of Succession and Supremacy (affirming, respectively, the invalidity of her parents’ marriage and her father’s supreme authority over the English Church), Henry came close to having her arrested for treason. At length, her own Catholic councillors prevailed on her to sign the oaths rather than lose her life. Sparing her no humiliation, the Privy Council insisted that she add a postscript acknowledging that Henry VIII’s marriage to her mother had been “incestuous and unlawful,” thus effectively declaring herself a bastard. In his will, however, Henry VIII left Mary second in line for the throne, after her younger half-brother, Edward. Harassed for harboring priests and attending Mass during Edward’s reign, Mary very nearly did not survive the attempt, at its end, to establish as successor the Protestant Jane Grey. But when, somewhat surprisingly, Protestants as well as Catholic’s rallied firmly to Mary’s cause, she ascended the throne, and Jane Grey and her supporters went to the scaffold. The early eagerness of Protestants to accept Henry VIII's legitimate heir as their queen, regardless of her religion, diminished sharply when it became clear that Mary intended to marry a foreign ruler, Philip Il of Spain. (Eleven years her junior, Philip was the son of her childhood fiancé, Charles V.) Sir Thomas Wyatt, son of the poet of the same name, led an uprising in January 1554 to prevent the match. Urged to flee, Mary instead went to the Guildhall in London and made a forceful speech that garnered popular support. Wyatt’s rebellion was subdued a week later, but there would never thereafter be real peace between Mary and her subjects. Her determination to restore the Catholic religion was probably welcomed by the majority, but there was no hope of avoiding confrontation with committed Protestants, and Mary did not attempt to avoid it. Between the beginning of 1555 and the end of her reign in 1558, she had 283 Protestants, from famous bishops to village zealots, executed for heresy. The immediate popular response of horror and resentment, which would soon solidify into the lurid historical legend of “Bloody Mary,” had less to do with the number of executions than with the nature of the charge and with the grisly method employed. In reality both Henry VII and Elizabeth executed many more people in the course of their reigns than did Mary. But Henry and Elizabeth, who were disposed to treat religious dissent as treason, typically had their victims executed as traitors—that is, hanged or beheaded. The pious Mary attempted to stamp out heresy and had her victims burned at the stake. Impelled to marry for political reasons, Mary seemed to fall genuinely in love with her husband, who, however, did not reciprocate her feelings. On two occasions

her tom the her

in

reign, she believed and announced herself to be with child, but both were phanpregnancies. The melancholy from which she had always suffered intensified in later years of her reign, when she grappled with bitter disappointments: many of subjects incorrigibly heretical, her husband aloof and usually absent, her body

MARY

Si

EE

hERe moO)

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apparently incapable of child-bearing. In 1558 Mary died, leaving the throne to her Protestant half-sister. The two royal half-sisters are buried in a single tomb in Westminster Abbey.

Letter to Henry VIII To the King’s Most Gracious Highness, myfather:! Most humbly prostrate before the feet of Your Most Excellent Majesty, your most humble, faithful, and obedient subject, which hath so extremely offended Your Most Gracious Highness that my heavy and fearful heart dare not presume to call you father, ne* Your Majesty hath any cause by my deserts, saving the benignity of your most blessed nature doth surmount all evils, offenses, and trespasses, and is ever merciful and ready to accept the penitent calling for grace in any convenient time. Having received this Thursday at night certain letters from Mr. Secretary,’ as well advising me to make my humble submission immediately to yourself, which because I durst not without your gracious license presume to do before, I lately sent unto him, as signifying that your most merciful heart and fatherly pity had granted me your blessing, with condition that I should persevere in that I had commenced and begun, and that I should not eftsoons?* offend Your Majesty by the denial or refusal of any such articles and commandments as it may please Your Highness to address unto me for the perfect trial of mine heart and inward affection. For the perfect declaration of the bottom of my heart and stomach,” first, I knowledge® myself to have most unkindly and unnaturally offended Your Most Excellent Highness, in that I have not submitted myself to your most just and virtuous laws, and for mine offense therein, which I must confess were in me a thousandfold more grievous than they could be in any other living creature, I put myself wholly and eatirely to your gracious mercy; at whose hands I cannot receive that punishment for the same’ that I have deserved. Secondly, to open my heart to Your Grace in these things which I have hitherto refused to condescend® unto, and have now written with mine own hand, sending the same to Your Highness herewith; I shall never beseech Your Grace to have pity and compassion of me, if ever you shall perceive that I shall privily or apertly’ vary or alter from one piece of that I have written and subscribed, or refuse to confirm, ratify, or declare the same where Your Majesty shall appoint me. Thirdly, as I have and 1. After the execution of Anne Boleyn on May 19, 1536, Mary thought that she would quickly be restored to her father’s favor. Henry, though, persisted in the demand that he had been making of her for several years: that she acknowledge in writing his supremacy over the English Church, as well as the invalidity of his marriage to her

Spanish allies, Mary yielded, signing the prescribed articles on a Thursday night in June (either the 15th or the 22nd) and writing her father this supplicatory letter (which may have been drafted by Cromwell).

mother.

4. Again.

In the weeks

after Anne’s

beheading,

Mary’s continuing refusal to comply with this demand infuriated Henry to the point that he threatened her (not for the first time) with death.

Finally, lambasted by Henry’s secretary and principal adviser Thomas Cromwell, who had supported her until the king's rage made him fear for his own safety, and urged to submit even by her

2. Nor.

3. Cromwell.

5. The stomach, like the heart, often designated the inward seat of thought and feeling. 6. Acknowledge. 7. I.e., for my offense. 8. Consent. 9. Secretly or openly.

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shall, knowing your excellent learning, virtue, wisdom, and knowledge, put my soul into your direction, and, by the same, hath and will, in all things,

from henceforth direct my conscience, so my body I do wholly commit to your mercy and fatherly pity; desiring no state, no condition, nor no manner degree of living, but such as Your Grace shall appoint unto me; knowledging and confessing that my state cannot be so vile as either the extremity ofjustice would appoint unto me, or as mine offenses have required and deserved. And whatsoever Your Grace shall command me to do, touching any of these points, either for things past, present, or to come, | shall as gladly do the same, as Your Majesty can command me. Most humbly therefore, beseeching your mercy, most gracious sovereign lord and benign father, to have pity and compassion of your miserable and sorrowful child, and with the abundance of your inestimable goodness so to overcome my iniquity towards God, Your Grace, and your whole realm, as I may feel some sensible! token of reconcili-

ation, which, I shall daily Grace,’ and Thursday, at

God is myjudge, I only desire, without other respect.? To Whom pray for the preservation of Your Highness, with the Queen’s that it may please Him to send you issue. From Hunsdon, this 11 of the clock at night. Your Grace’s most humble and

obedient daughter and handmaid, Mary

1536

1830

From An Ambassadorial Dispatch to the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V: The Coronation of Mary I! Your Highness’s own cousin,” Queen Mary, now wears the crown of this kingdom. She was crowned on the first day of this month,? with the pomp and ceremonies customary here, which are far grander than elsewhere, as I shall briefly show; and according to the rites of the old religion.4 On the eve of her coronation-day, the queen was removed from the Tower and castle of London to Westminster Palace, where the sovereigns of England are by custom wont to reside in London. She was accompanied by the earls, lords, gentlemen, ambassadors, and officers, all dressed in rich garments. The

queen was carried in an open litter covered with brocade. Two coaches followed her: the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady of Cleves® rode in one; some of the ladies of the court in the other. The streets were hung with tapestries and strewn with grass and flowers; and many triumphal arches were erected along her way. The next day, coronation-day, the queen went from the Hall

1. Evident. “As”: so that. 2. Regard. 3. Jane Seymour, whom Henry had married on May 30 (eleven days after the execution of Anne Boleyn). 1. Translated from Spanish, in Calendar ofState Papers, Spanish, vol. 5, pt. 1. i 2. Mary and Charles were first cousins.

3. October 1553. 4. l.e., Catholicism. 5. Anne of Cleves, the German noblewoman who had been Henry VIII's fourth wife, was the only

one of the six still alive in 1553. Henry had had the marriage

annulled

after seven

months,

but

Anne had remained in England. “Lady Elizabeth” is Mary’s half-sister, the future Elizabeth I.

THE

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of Parliament and Justice to the church, in procession with the bishops and priests in full canonical dress, the streets being again covered with flowers and decked with stuffs.” She mounted a scaffolding that was erected at the church for this purpose, and showed herself to the people. The queen's coronation was proclaimed to them and the question asked of them if they were willing to accept her as their queen. All answered: Yes; and the ordinary ceremonies were then gone through, the queen making an offering of silver and silken stuffs. The bishop of Winchester, who officiated, gave her the scepter and the orb, fastened on the spurs, and girt her with the sword; he received the oath, and she was twice anointed and crowned with three

crowns. The ceremonies lasted from ten in the morning till five o’clock in the afternoon.

She was carried from the church to the Parliament Hall,

where a banquet was prepared. The queen sat on a stone chair’ covered with brocade,which they say was carried off from Scotland in sign of a victory, and was once used by the kings of Scotland at their crowning; she rested her feet upon two of her ladies, which is also a part of the prescribed ceremonial, and ate thus. She was served by the earls and lords, Knights of the Order? and officers, each one performing his own special office. The meats! were carried by the Knights of the Bath. These knights are made by the kings on the eve of their coronation and at no other time; and their rank is inferior to

the other order. The queen instituted twenty fresh ones. They are called Knights of the Bath because they plunge naked into a bath with the king and kiss his shoulder. The queen being a woman, the ceremony was performed for her by the earl of Arundel, her great master of the household. The earl marshal and the lord steward’ directed the ceremonies mounted on horseback in the great hall. When the banquet was over, an armed knight rode in upon a Spanish horse and flung down his glove,* while one of the kings-of-arms* challenged anyone who opposed the queen’s rights to pick up the glove and fight the champion in single combat. The queen gave him a gold cup, as it is usual to do. Meanwhile the earls, vassals, and councillors

paid homage to her, kissing her on the shoulder; and the ceremonies came to an end without any of the interruptions or troubles that were feared on the part of the Lutherans, who would rejoice in upsetting the queen’s reign. They were feared especially because of the Lady Elizabeth, who does not feel sincerely the oath she took at the coronation; she has had intelligence with the king of France, which has been discovered.” A remedy is to be sought at the convocation of the estates,° which is to take place on the fifth of this month: Elizabeth is to be declared a bastard, having been born during the lifetime of Queen Catherine, mother of the queen. The affairs of the

6. lLe., from Westminster

Hall to Westminster

Abbey. 7. Pieces of cloth. 8. The coronation throne—not

itself stone, but

having the Stone of Scone (taken from Scotland

by Edward I in 1292) encased in its seat. 9. The Order of the Garter.

1. Food in general (not just animal flesh). 2. The earl of Arundel was both the lord steward

and the lord great master of the household. The earl marshal was the duke of Norfolk. 3. Le., threw down the gauntlet. The challenge

by the “king’s champion” (a hereditary office) was a part of the coronation ritual until 1821. 4. The title of the three chief heralds of the College of Arms. 5. There is, at least now, no evidence of Elizabeth’s conniving with the French king. “Intelligence”: communication. 6. Le., Parliament. Statutes declaring both Mary and Elizabeth illegitimate were already in place; Parliament nullified those pertaining to Mary, but left unrepealed the ones concerning Elizabeth.

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kingdom are unsettled because the vassals and people are prone to scandal, and seekers after novelties; they are strange and troublesome folk. ae

E

1916

The Oration of Queen Mary in the Guildhall, on the First of February, 1554! I am come unto you in mine own person, to tell you that which already you see and know; that is, how traitorously and rebelliously a number of Kentishmen have assembled themselves against both us and you. Their pretense (as they said at the first) was for a marriage determined for us: to the which, and to all the articles thereof, ye have been made privy. But since,*

we have caused certain of our Privy Council to go again unto them, and to demand the cause of this their rebellion: and it appeared then unto our said council that the matter of the marriage seemed to be but a Spanish cloak to cover their pretended purpose against our religion; for that* they arrogantly and traitorously demanded to have the governance of our person, the keeping of the Tower,* and the placing of our councillors. Now, loving subjects, what I am, ye right well know. I am your queen, to whom at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be, left off), you promised your allegiance and obedience unto me. And that I am the right and true inheritor of the crown of this realm of England, I take all Christendom to witness. My father, as ye all know, possessed the same regal state, which now rightly is descended unto me: and to him always ye showed yourselves most faithful and loving subjects; and therefore I doubt not, but ye will show yourselves likewise to me, and that ye will not suffer a vile traitor to have the order and governance of our person, and to occupy our estate,’ especially being so vile a traitor as Wyatt is; who most certainly, as he hath abused mine ignorant subjects which be on his side, so doth he intend and purpose the destruction of you, and spoil® of your goods. And this I say to you, on the word of a prince: I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth the child, for I was never the mother of any; but certainly, if a prince and governor may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects, as the mother doth the child, then assure yourselves that I, being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and as tenderly 1, When, in the early months of Mary’s reign, it became clear that she intended to marry the heir to the Spanish throne (the future Philip II, son of her cousin Charles V), discontent broke into insurrection. In late January 1554, a sizable army led by the Kentishman Sir Thomas Wyatt II began

and he and other rebel leaders were executed. The version of Mary’s speech given here was printed, with grudging admiration, by the Protestant martyrologist John Foxe, in his Acts and Monuments (see p. 159).

. Subsequently.

an advance on London. In the crisis, Mary went

Because.

to the Guildhall and made this rousing speech to the assembled Londoners. They rallied to her side, and when Wyatt reached the city he found an unreceptive populace. The uprising collapsed,

l.e., the Tower of London. Position.

Despoliation, pillage.

EADY

JANE

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love and favor you. And I, thus loving you, cannot but think that ye as heartily and faithfully love me; and then I doubt not but we shall give these rebels a short and speedy overthrow. As concerning the marriage, ye shall understand that I enterprised not the doing thereof without advice, and that by the advice of all our Privy Council,

who

so

considered

and

weighed

the great

commodities’

that

might ensue thereof, that they not only thought it very honorable, but also expedient, both for the wealth® of our realm and also of all you our subjects. And as touching myself, I assure you, I am not so bent to my will, neither so precise nor affectionate,’ that either for mine own pleasure I would choose where | lust,' or that I am so desirous as needs? I would have one. For God, I thank him, to whom be the praise therefore, I have hith-

erto lived a virgin, and doubt nothing* but with God’s grace am able so to live still. But if, as my progenitors have done before, it might please God that I might leave some fruit of my body behind me to be your governor, I trust ye would not only rejoice thereat, but also I know it would be to your great comfort. And certainly, if I either did think or know that this marriage were to the hurt of any of you my commons, or to the impeachment?* of any part or parcel of the royal state of this realm of England, I would never consent thereunto, neither would I ever marry while I lived. And on the word of a queen I promise you that if it shall not probably’ appear to all the nobility and commons in the high court of Parliament that this marriage shall be for the high benefit and commodity of the whole realm, then I will abstain from marriage while | live. And now, good subjects, pluck up your hearts, and like true men stand fast against these rebels, both our enemies and yours, and fear them not; for

I assure you, I fear them nothing at all. And I will leave with you my Lord Howard and my lord treasurer,° who shall be assistants with the mayor for your defense.

1554 7. 8. 9. 1. 2. 3.

1563

Benefits. Well-being. Nor so fastidious nor willful. Where I please. So full of desire that it is necessary. Not at all.

4. Injury; discrediting. 5. Plausibly. 6. Sir William Paulet, marquis of Winchester. “My Lord Howard”: William Howard, earl of Warwick.

LADY JANE GREY * ane Grey (1537-1554) was unlucky in her parents, the duke and duchess of Suffolk. They were, by her own account, impossible to please, subjecting her to taunts, threats, and physical abuse whenever she made a minor error in performance or deportment. Much worse for Jane, her mother was a granddaughter of Henry VII with a distant but plausible claim to the English throne. This fact, more than any action of her own, determined the course of Jane’s life and death. In 1553 England was ruled in name by the boy-king Edward VI, but in reality by John Dudley, duke of Northumberland, who as Protector (regent) stood at the head

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of an aggressively Protestant regime. With Edward’s health in decline and his Catholic half-sister Mary next in line to the throne, Protestant nobles feared for their future and for England’s. For Northumberland, Jane Grey’s bloodline offered an elegant solution. Aged fifteen, Lady Jane was married to Northumberland’s son, Guildford Dudley. Within six weeks of the marriage, Edward VI was dead, having named Jane Grey as his successor. The Privy Council, pressured by Northumberland, denounced Mary Tudor as a bastard and declared Jane queen of England. Jane’s reign lasted a mere nine days, July 9-18. For the first seventy-two hours, there seemed some hope of success; even the hostile ambassadors of Catholic powers were ready to hail Jane as queen. But the nobility and the common people, Protestant as well as Catholic, soon began to shift their allegiance to Mary, who at the time downplayed her religion. Personal connections to Mary’s household and local grievances, along with Catholic sympathies, motivated much of the gentry to rally around her. Within weeks Northumberland was defeated, arrested, and exe-

cuted. Jane, who had briefly reigned from the Tower of London, was now made prisoner there. The victorious Mary initially had no intention of executing Jane or her young husband, who, she recognized, had been no more than pawns in their parents’ political games. But in January 1554 the duke of Suffolk joined in an illfated rebellion intended to reinstate his daughter on the throne. Mary’s councillors convinced her that Jane would pose a danger as long as she remained alive. On the morning of February 12, 1554, Jane watched from a Tower window as her husband, Guildford, went to his public execution; within an hour she too had been beheaded, privately, on Tower Green. Jane Grey was never really a woman in power. Her ability to command her own destiny, let alone that of others, was hardly greater when she was queen of England than when she was prisoner in the Tower. Yet it is clear from her writings and the testimony of others that Jane possessed a firm, even fiery will. In her brief stint as queen, she shocked her controllers by refusing to allow Guildford to take the title of king and rule jointly with her, and again by insisting that Northumberland, rather than her father, Suffolk, should lead her forces against Mary. Her will was harnessed to a militant and unshakable Protestantism; from an early age she mocked Catholic beliefs. In the Tower, where a politic conversion to Catholicism might well

have saved her life, she instead wrote a violent and soon public letter to her onetime tutor Thomas

Harding, who had converted,

lambasting him as a “seed of

Satan.” Yet far from being an ignorant bigot, Jane was, though dead at sixteen, among the most learned women of her century; she had mastered Latin and Greek and was a student of Hebrew. She rivaled Elizabeth in intellectual brilliance and— to her fatal cost—exceeded her greatly in religious fervor.

From Roger Ascham’s Schoolmaster! [A TALK WITH LADY JANE]

“One example whether love or fear doth work more in a child for virtue and learning I will gladly report; which may be heard with some pleasure and followed with more profit. Before I went into Germany,” I came to 1. On Ascham—the preeminent humanist educational theorist of mid-16th-century England—

sador to the emperor Charles V. So Lady Jane was thirteen at the time of the conversation Ascham

See Dalian

recounts.

2. In 1550, as secretary of the English ambas-

ROGER

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Broadgate in Leicestershire to take my leave of that noble Lady Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholding. Her parents, the duke and the duchess, with all the household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber reading Phaedon Platonis* in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentleman would read a merry tale in Boccaccio.* After salutation and duty done, with some other talk, I asked

her why she would lose’ such pastime in the park. Smiling she answered me, “Iwis,° all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas, good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.” “And how came you, madam,” quoth I, “to this deep knowledge of pleasure, and

what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many women, but very few men, have attained thereunto?” “I will tell you,” quoth she, “and tell you a truth which perchance ye will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me is that he sent me so sharp and severe parents and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go,’ eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing,

playing, dancing, or doing anything else, | must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number even so perfectly as God made the world, or else | am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, presently sometimes, with pinches, nips, and bobs,® and other ways which I will not name for the honor I bear them,’ so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell till time come that I must go to Master Aylmer,'! who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing whilst I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because whatsoever I do else but learning is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles unto me.” | remember this talk gladly, both because it is so worthy of memory and because also it was the last talk that ever I had, and the last time that ever

I saw, that noble and worthy lady. 1570

3. Plato’s dialogue Phaedo,

which

recounts

the

last hours of Socrates and affirms the immortality of the soul.

7. Walk.

5

8. Raps, blows. “Presently”: on the spot. 9. Her parents.

4. Boceaccio’s Decameron (1348-53), a collection of one hundred “merry,” sometimes licentious,

I. John Aylmer (1521-1594). As a schoolboy he attracted the notice of Jane's father, who provided

5. Miss, forgo.

him tutor to his daughters. In 1577 Queen Eliza-

tales, not translated into English in Ascham’s time.

6. Truly.

for his education

at Cambridge

beth made him bishop of London.

and appointed

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From A Letter of the Lady Jane to M. H., late chaplain to the duke of Suffolk her father, and then fallen from the truth of

God's most Holy Word! So oft as I call to mind the dreadful and fearful saying of God, “That he

which layeth hold upon the plough, and looketh back, is not meet for the kingdom of heaven,”* and, on the other side, the comfortable* words of our

Savior Christ to all those that, forsaking themselves, do follow him, I cannot but marvel at thee, and lament thy case, which seemed sometime to be the lively member of Christ, but now the deformed imp? of the devil; sometime

the beautiful temple of God, but now the stinking and filthy kennel of Satan; sometime the unspotted spouse of Christ, but now the unshamefaced paramour of Antichrist; sometime my faithful brother, but now a stranger and apostate; sometime a stout Christian soldier, but now a cowardly runaway. Yea, when I consider these things, I cannot but speak to thee, and cry out upon thee, thou seed of Satan, and not of Judah,’ whom

the devil hath

deceived, the world hath beguiled, and the desire of life subverted, and made

thee of a Christian an infidel. Wherefore hast thou taken the testament of the Lord in thy mouth? Wherefore hast thou preached the law and the will of God to others? Wherefore hast thou instructed others to be strong in Christ, when thou thyself dost now so shamefully shrink, and so horribly abuse the testament and law of the Lord? when thou thyself preachest not to steal, yet most abominably stealest, not from men but from God, and, committing most heinous sacrilege, robbest Christ thy Lord of his right members, thy body and thy soul, and choosest rather to live miserably with shame to the world, than to die and gloriously with honor to reign with Christ, in whom

even in death is life? Why dost thou now show thyself most weak, when indeed thou oughtest to be most strong? The strength of a fort is unknown before the assault: but thou yieldest thy hold before any battery be made. O wretched and unhappy man, what art thou, but dust and ashes? and wilt thou resist thy maker that fashioned thee and framed thee? Wilt thou now forsake Him that called thee from the custom gathering among the Romish Antichristians,° to be an ambassador and messenger of his eternal word? He that first framed thee, and since thy first creation and birth preserved thee, nourished, and kept thee, yea, and inspired thee with the spirit of knowledge (I cannot say of grace), shall he not now possess thee? Darest thou deliver up thyself to another, being not thine own, but his? How canst thou, having knowledge, or how darest thou neglect the law of the Lord and follow the vain traditions of men, and whereas thou hast been a public professor of his name, become now a defacer of his glory? Wilt thou refuse the true God, and worship the invention of man, the golden calf, the whore of

1. Taken

from the 2nd edition

Foxe’s Acts and Monuments

(1570) of John

(see p. 159). In a sub-

sequent edition, “M. H.” is identified as “Master Harding’—the eminent theologian Thomas Harding, who was one of Lady Jane’s tutors. Like many other English clergymen, Harding had renounced his Protestantism after Mary I made clear her determination to restore Catholicism.

Jane wrote to him from her prison in the Tower. 2. Luke 9.62. “Meet” fit. 3. Comforting. 4. Offshoot. 5. Patriarch of the biblical kingdom of the Hebrews. 6. In the late 1540s, Harding had studied in Catholic Italy.

LADY

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Lady Jane Grey. Dating from the 1590s and by an unknown artist, this oil painting on oak panel has been claimed to represent Jane Grey, though the claim has been contested. Scratched lines across the painting suggest that the work might have been the victim of an iconoclastic attack.

Babylon,’ the Romish religion, the abominable idol, the most wicked Mass?

Wilt thou torment again, rend and tear the most precious body of our Savior Christ, with thy bodily and fleshly teeth?*® Wilt thou take upon thee to offer up any sacrifice unto God for our sins, considering that Christ offered up himself, as Paul saith, upon the cross, a lively sacrifice once for all? Can neither the punishment of the Israelites (which, for their idolatry, they so oft received), nor the terrible threatenings of the prophets, nor the curses of God’s own mouth, fear thee to honor any other god than him? Dost thou so regard Him that spared not his dear and only son for thee, so diminishing, yea, utterly extinguishing his glory, that thou wilt attribute the praise and honor due unto him to the idols, “which have mouths and speak not, eyes and see not, ears and hear not”;? which shall perish with them that made them?

7. Revelation

17-19. Protestants often identified

her with the Church of Rome. “The golden calf”: the idol fashioned by the Israelites while Moses was on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments (Exodus 32). 8. Alluding to the bitter controversy over transubstantiation: Catholic doctrine holds that

although the bread and wine of the Eucharist retain their normal appearance, they are miraculously transformed into the actual body and blood of Christ; Protestants believe that the identification is symbolic rather than substantive. 9. Psalms 115.

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Return, return again into Christ’s war, and, as becometh a faithful warrior,

put on that armor that St. Paul teacheth to be most necessary for a Christian man.! And above all things take to you the shield of faith, and be you provoked by Christ’s own example to withstand the devil, to forsake the world, and to become a true and faithful member of his mystical body, who spared not his own body for our sins. Throw down yourself with the fear of his threatened vengeance for this so great and heinous an offense of apostasy; and comfort yourself, on the other part, with the mercy, blood, and promise of him that is ready to turn unto you whensoever you turn unto him. Disdain not to come again with the lost son,? seeing you have so wandered with him. Be not ashamed to turn again with him from the swill of strangers* to the delicates of your most benign and loving Father, acknowledging that you have sinned against heaven and earth: against heaven, by staining the glorious name of God and causing his most sincere and pure word to be evil-spoken-of through you, against earth, by offending so many of your weak brethren, to whom you have been a stumbling-block through your sudden sliding. Be not abashed to come home again with Mary,’ and weep bitterly with Peter,’ not only with shedding the tears of your bodily eyes, but also pouring out the streams of your heart—to wash away, out of the sight of God, the filth and mire of your offensive fall. Be not abashed to say with the publican,° “Lord be merciful unto me a sinner.” Last of all, let the lively remembrance of the last day’ be always before your eyes, remembering the terror that such shall be in at that time, with the runagates® and fugitives from Christ, which, setting more by the world than by heaven, more by their life than by him that gave them life, did shrink, yea did clean fall away, from him that forsook not them; and, contrariwise, the

inestimable joys prepared for them that, fearing no peril nor dreading death, have manfully fought and victoriously triumphed over all power of darkness, over hell, death, and damnation, through their most redoubted? captain, Christ, who now stretcheth out his arms to receive you, ready to fall

upon your neck and kiss you, and, last of all, to feast you with the dainties and delicates of his own precious blood: which undoubtedly, if it might stand with his determinate purpose, he would not let! to shed again, rather than you should be lost. To whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all honor, praise, and glory everlasting. Amen. Be constant, be constant; fear not for pain:

Christ hath redeemed thee, and heaven is thy gain. 1553-54

1. Ephesians 6.11-18. 2. The Prodigal Son (Luke 15.10—32). 3. The Prodigal journeyed into a “far country,” where, having “wasted his substance with riotous

living,” he “would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat.” 4. Christ's follower Mary Magdalene, long regarded (though without substantive basis in the Gospels) as a repentant sinner. 5. After thrice denying Christ, Peter wept bitterly

1563, 1570

for his apostasy (Matthew 26.75; Luke 22.62).

6. Luke 18.13. “Publican”: in Christ’s parable of the Pharisee and the publican (tax collector— agent of the hated Roman occupiers), the latter humbles himself before God and is forgiven. 7. Judgment Day. 8. Runaways; i.e., apostates.

9. Reverenced; dreaded. 1. Hesitate.

LADY

JANE

GREY:

A

PRAYER

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A Letter of the Lady Jane, Sent unto her Father! Father, although it hath pleased God to hasten my death by you, by whom my life should rather have been lengthened; yet can I so patiently take it, as I yield God more hearty thanks for shortening my woeful days than if all the world had been given into my possession, with life lengthened at my own will. And albeit I am well assured of your impatient dolors, redoubled manifold ways, both in bewailing your own woe and especially, as I hear, my unfortunate state, yet, my dear father (if |may without offense rejoice in my own mishaps), meseems in this | may account myself blessed, that washing my hands with the innocency of my fact,” my guiltless blood may cry before the Lord, Mercy, mercy to the innocent! And yet, though I must needs acknowledge that, being constrained and, as you wot well enough, continually assayed,’ in taking upon me I seemed to consent,* and therein grievously offended the queen and her laws: yet do I assuredly trust that this mine offense towards God is so much the less in that, being in so royal estate as I

was, mine enforced honor never agreed with mine innocent heart. And thus, good father, I have opened unto you the state wherein | presently stand; whose death at hand, although to you perhaps it may seen right woeful, to me there is nothing that can be more welcome than from this vale of misery to aspire to that heavenly throne of all joy and pleasure with Christ our savior. In whose steadfast faith (if it may be lawful for the daughter so to write to the father) the Lord that hitherto hath strengthened you so continue you that at the last we may meet in heaven with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.’ 1554

1570

A Prayer of the Lady Jane! O Lord, thou God and Father of my life, hear me, poor and desolate woman, which flieth unto thee only, in all troubles and miseries. Thou, O Lord, art

the only defender and deliverer of those that put their trust in thee: and therefore I, being defiled with sin, encumbered with affliction, unquieted with troubles, wrapped

in cares,

overwhelmed

with miseries, vexed with

temptations, and grievously tormented with the long imprisonment of this vile mass of clay, my sinful body, do come unto thee, O merciful Savior,

1. Written shortly before her execution and later published in Foxe’s Acts and Monuments (see p. 159). Lady Jane’s father, the duke of Suffolk, had been pardoned by Mary I for his involvement in the attempt to put Jane on the throne following the death of Edward VI; Jane herself, though remaining in custody, also had good hopes of being pardoned. But when Suffolk joined in the insurrection of January 1554 against Mary, the queen decided that both must die. Suffolk was executed eleven days after his daughter, on February 23.

2. Actions. Jane had had to be coerced to accept the crown in July 1553 and was in no way involved in the later uprising. 3. Assailed; i.e., browbeaten. “Wot”: know. 4. Le., though I accepted the crown only under intense pressure, nonetheless, by accepting it at all I apparently consented to Mary's displacement. 5. As Foxe noted, this final sentence amounts to

an admonition

that Suffolk not renounce

Protestantism.

1, Also written shortly before her death.

his

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craving thy mercy and help, without the which so little hope of deliverance is left that I may utterly despair of any liberty. Albeit it is expedient, that, seeing our life standeth upon trying,* we should be visited sometime with some adversity, whereby we might both be tried whether we be of thy flock or no, and also know thee and ourselves the better, yet thou, that saidst thou wouldst not suffer us to be tempted above our power,’ be merciful unto me now, a miserable wretch, I beseech

thee; which with Solomon‘ do cry unto thee, humbly desiring thee that I may neither be too much puffed up with prosperity, neither too much pressed down with adversity, lest I, being too full, should deny thee, my God, or being too low brought, should despair and blaspheme thee, my Lord and Savior. O merciful God, consider my misery, best known unto thee; and be thou now unto me a strong tower of defense, I humbly require’ thee. Suffer me not to be tempted above my power, but either be thou a deliverer unto me out of this great misery, either® else give me grace patiently to bear thy heavy hand and sharp correction. It was thy right hand that delivered the people of Israel out of the hands of Pharaoh, which for the space of four hundred years did oppress them and keep them in bondage. Let it, therefore, likewise seem good to thy fatherly goodness to deliver me, sorrowful wretch (for whom thy son Christ shed his precious blood on the cross), out of this miserable captivity and bondage wherein I am

now. How long wilt thou be absent? forever? O Lord, hast thou forgotten to be gracious, and hast thou shut up thy loving-kindness in displeasure? Wilt thou be no more entreated? Is thy mercy clean gone forever, and thy promise come utterly to an end for evermore?’ Why dost thou make so long tarrying? Shall I despair of thy mercy, O God? Far be that from me. I am thy workmanship, created in Christ Jesu: give me grace, therefore, to tarry thy leisure, and patiently to bear thy works; assuredly knowing that as thou canst, so thou wilt deliver me when it shall please thee, nothing doubting or mistrusting thy goodness towards me; for thou knowest better what is good for me than I do: therefore do with me in all things what thou wilt, and plague me what way thou wilt. Only in the meantime, arm me, I beseech thee, with thy armor,® that I may stand fast, my loins being girded about with verity, having on the breastplate of righteousness and shod with the shoes prepared by the gospel of peace; above all things, taking to me the shield of faith, wherewith I may be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, and taking the helmet of salvation and the sword of the spirit, which is thy most holy Word: praying always with all manner of prayer and supplication, that I may refer myself wholly to thy will, abiding thy pleasure and comforting myself in those troubles that it shall please thee to send me; seeing such troubles be profitable for me, and seeing I am assuredly persuaded that it cannot be but well, all that thou doest.

2. Trial. 3. 1 Corinthians 10.13. 4. pera 30.7-9, De

LASK.

6. Or. 7, Psalms 77.8. 8. The allegorical armor of Ephesians 6.11-18. The ensuing passage closely echoes these verses.

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AND

MONUMENTS

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207

Hear me, O merciful Father, for His sake whom thou wouldst should be a sacrifice for my sins: to whom with thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honor

and glory. Amen. 1554

1563

A Second Letter to Her Father! The Lord comfort your grace, and that in his Word, wherein all creatures only are to be comforted. And though it hath pleased God to take away two of your children,’ yet think not, | most humbly beseech your grace, that you have lost them, but trust that we, by losing this mortal life, have won an immortal life. And I for my part, as I have honored your grace in this life, will pray for you in another life. Your grace’s humble daughter, Jane Dudley 1554

1850

From Foxe’s Acts and Monuments! The Words and Behavior of the Lady Jane upon the Scaffold These are the words that the Lady Jane spake upon the scaffold, at the hour of her death. First, when she mounted upon the scaffold, she said to the people standing thereabout, “Good people, | am come hither to die, and by a law I am condemned to the same. The fact? against the queen’s highness was unlawful, and the consenting thereunto by me; but, touching the procurement and desire thereof by me, or on my behalf, | do wash my hands thereof in innocency before God and the face of you, good Christian people, this day.” And therewith she wrung her hands, wherein she had her book.* Then said she, “I pray you all, good Christian people, to bear me witness that I die a true Christian woman, and that I do look to be saved by no other mean but only by the mercy of God,’ in the blood of his only Son Jesus Christ; and I confess that when I did know the word of God I neglected the

same, loved myself and the world; and therefore this plague and punishment is happily and worthily happened unto me for my sins; and yet I thank God of his goodness that he hath thus given me a time and respite to repent. And now, good people, while I am alive, I pray you assist me with your prayers.” And then, kneeling down, she turned her to Feckenham,®° saying, “Shall I

1. Lady Jane inscribed this farewell message in a prayer book, now in the British Library. 2. l.e., his daughter and son-in-law. 1. On the Protestant martyrologist John Foxe (1516-1587), see p. 159.

Dancts 3. Prayer book.

4. Asserting the Protestant doctrine of salvation by faith alone. 5. Implicitly challenging the Catholic doctrine

of the efficacy of prayers for the dead. 6. John de Feckenham, Queen Mary’s confessor, who at her behest had tried unsuccessfully, in Lady Jane’s last days, to convert her to Catholicism. A gifted and tolerant man, Feckenham was later put in charge of Mary’s project of restoring the Benedictine monastery of Westminster Abbey, where he thus became the last abbot.

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say this psalm?” And he said, “Yea.” Then said she the psalm of Miserere mei Deus’ in English, in most devout manner, throughout to the end; and then she stood up, and gave her maiden, Mistress Ellen, her gloves and handkerchief, and her book to Master Brydges.* And then she untied her gown, and the hangman pressed upon her to help her off with it;? but she, desiring him to let her alone, turned towards her two gentlewomen, who helped her off therewith, and also with her frau’s paste! and neckerchief, giving her a fair handkerchief to knit about her eyes. Then the hangman kneeled down and asked her forgiveness, whom she forgave most willingly. Then he willed her to stand upon the straw;? which doing, she saw the block. Then she said, “I pray you, dispatch me quickly.” Then she kneeled down, saying, “Will you take it off before I lay me down?” And the hangman said, “No, madam.” Then tied she the kerchief about her eyes, and feeling for the block she said, “What shall I do? Where is it? Where

is it?” One of the standers-by guiding her thereunto, she laid her head down upon the block, and then stretched forth her body and said, “Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit”;? and so finished her life, in the year of our Lord God 1554, the twelfth day of February. 1563 7. Psalm 51, which opens “Have mercy upon me, O God.” 8. Sir John Brydges, lieutenant of the Tower. 9. The victim’s adornments were part of the executioner’s fee.

MARY,

QUEEN

1. A type of elaborate headdress worn by married women, 2. Strewn about the execution block to soak up some of the blood. 3. Echoing Christ’s dying words, Luke 23.46.

OF SCOTS

ary Stuart (1542-1587) was born on December 8, and within a week, follow-

ing the death of her father, King James V, she had inherited the throne of Scotland. She has always been remembered as the “Queen of Scots,” though she spent very few years in Scotland, never spoke its language as easily as French, and was forced to abdicate at the age of twenty-four. Determined to foil the ambitions of Henry VIII, who sought to force a union between England and Scotland by having Mary married to his own son, Edward, Mary’s guardians sent her at the age of five to the court of France, where she would be brought up. At age fifteen she married Francis, the French dauphin, who became king in 1559. A year later, Francis II died, and at the age of eighteen Mary returned to her own kingdom, Scotland, a land she could barely remember. As a Catholic woman coming to rule over a patriarchal society in which militant Protestantism was gathering force, Mary could hardly hope for a unanimously warm welcome. Her own subsequent decisions destroyed whatever chance she may have had of enjoying a peaceful reign. In 1565 she married her vain and erratic cousin, Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, with whom she was soon deeply unhappy. In 1566 Darnley was implicated in the murder of Mary’s secretary, David Rizzio, who was rumored to be her lover. In 1567 Darnley was murdered in turn, certainly with the connivance of the powerful James Hepburn, earl of Bothwell. Soon Mary was married to Bothwell, though her own will

MARY,

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OF

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209

in the matter remains unclear. The scandal of this marriage alienated many of her supporters and helped provoke an uprising of the Scottish nobility. Mary was imprisoned at Lochleven Castle and forced to abdicate in favor of her one-year-old son, James. Though she escaped, she failed to rally the Scottish people to her side, and in 1568 she fled across the border into England, where she appealed for help from her cousin Elizabeth. The arrival on English soil of the twenty-five-year-old Queen of Scots was not welcome news to the Protestant queen and her wary advisers. As a descendant of Henry VII with a good claim to the English throne, Mary was seen to be a dangerous and destabilizing presence. She was immediately taken prisoner and remained so until her execution at the age of forty-four. She was tried in England in 1568— 69 on the charge of murdering her second husband. At this point her Scottish accuser produced the notorious Casket Letters, which had supposedly been discovered in a silver casket seized from an associate of Bothwell’s. The casket, it

was said, contained eight letters and twelve sonnets, all in French, testifying (if they are authentic) to an adulterous relationship with Bothwell and, more ambiguously, to Mary’s involvement in the murder of Darnley. Mary herself was not permitted to inspect the letters, which were withdrawn shortly after being displayed in court and subsequently disappeared, though not before translations of them had been made into English and Scots. The result of the trial was inconclusive; Elizabeth declared that nothing had been proven that would make her “conceive an evil opinion of her good sister”; yet she continued to keep Mary prisoner, moving her from one place of confinement to another for the next nineteen years.

Mary quickly became the focus for the aspirations of discontented Catholics at home and abroad. She conspired with these adherents by means of secret messages, written in ciphers or in invisible ink on white taffeta, smuggled in and out of her prison hidden in such things as beer barrels. The conspiracies were monitored, and to some extent even engineered, by Elizabeth’s spymaster, Francis Walsingham, who was setting a trap for the Queen of Scots and English Catholics generally. In 1586 Mary was found to be in communication with a young Englishman named Anthony Babington, who was plotting to assassinate Elizabeth and place Mary on the throne. Babington and his coconspirators were drawn and quartered, their heads displayed on Tower Bridge. Though she insisted that, as the sovereign queen of another country, she could not be charged with treason against England’s queen, Mary was convicted as a traitor and sentenced to death. Elizabeth vacillated for some time over carrying out the sentence, worrying about the reaction abroad and about the precedent involved in executing a monarch. Eventually she was prevailed upon to sign the death warrant, and Mary was beheaded on February 8, 1587. A week later, Elizabeth wrote to the orphaned James VI of Scotland, lamenting the “miserable accident, which far contrary to my meaning hath befallen.” Many of the words that seem to speak to us most eloquently of Mary’s self and circumstances are not in fact her own. Throughout her life, Mary encountered no shortage of people—some who were admirers and others deadly foes—who were eager to seize control of her voice. The controversy over the Casket

Letters

thus crystallizes the more general problem of locating the “real” Mary Stuart. It will probably never be possible to prove with certainty whether the letters are products of Mary’s own hand or cunning forgeries designed to incriminate her, and indeed it is this impossibility that lends them much of their fascination, opening them up for the endless play of interpretation. Yet if the interpretation of the Casket Letters has become a kind of intellectual game, it began as a matter of life or death. If Mary was in one respect a text with many authors, she was

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also a singular woman was at last cut in two.

POWER

inhabiting a body that, on the orders of another woman,

From Casket Letter Number 2! ** * This day I have wrought? till two of the clock upon this bracelet, to put the key in the cleft? of it, which is tied with two laces. I have had so little time that it is very ill,* but I will make a fairer; and in the meantime take

heed that none of those that be here do see it: for all the world would know it, for | have made it in haste in their presence. I go to my tedious talk.’ You make me dissemble so much that I am afraid thereof with horror; and you make me almost to play the part of a traitor. Remember that if it were not for obeying you, I had rather be dead;° my heart bleedeth for it. To be short, he will not come’ but with condition that I shall promise to be with him as heretofore at bed and board,’ and that I shall forsake him no more; and upon my word? he will do whatsoever I will, and will come, but he hath

prayed me to tarry till after tomorrow. * * * But now, to make him trust me, I must

feign something

unto

him; and therefore

when

he desired

me

to

promise that when he should be whole! we should make but one bed, I told him (feigning to believe his fair promises) [that if he]* did not change his mind between this time and that, I was contented, so as* he would say nothing thereof: for (to tell it between us two) the lords wished no ill to him,* but

did fear lest (considering the threatenings which he made in case we did agree together) he would make them feel the small account? they have made of him, and that he would persuade me to pursue some of them; and for this respect should be in jealousy if at one instant,° without their knowledge, I did break a game made to the contrary in their presence.’ And he said unto me, very pleasant and merry, “Think you that they do the more esteem you therefore? But I am glad that you talk to me of the lords. I hear® that you desire now that we shall live a happy life—for if it were otherwise, it could not be but greater inconvenience should happen to us both than you think. But I will do now whatsoever you will have me do, and will love all those that you shall love, so as you make them to love me also. For, so as they seek not my life, I love them all equally.”

1. The English translation was made shortly after the French originals of the Casket Letters were produced at Mary’s first trial in England (1568-69).

2. Worked. 3. I.e., lock.

4. Badly made. 5. Le., with Darnley. He was lying ill (probably from syphilis, though smallpox was given out as the cause) at Glasgow; Mary had joined him there. 6. l.e., than play the traitor. 7. L.e., to Craigmillar Castle, outside Edinburgh. “To be short”: in short. 8. Le., to live again with him as husband and wife.

9. L.e., if I give my word to do this. 1. Well.

2. The manuscript of the English translation has a tear at this point; the missing words have been inferred from the contemporary Scottish translation, 3. Provided that. 4. Darnley—weak, arrogant, and vicious—had many bitter enemies among the other Scottish lords. 5. Make them suffer for the low estimate. 6. Suddenly. “Respect”: reason. 7. At their urging, Mary had authorized a confederacy of nobles to find a way for her to divorce Darnley. “Game”: undertaking. 8. L.e., lam convinced.

MARY

STUART:

CASKET

LETTER

NUMBER

2

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211

Thereupon I have willed this bearer to tell you many pretty’ things; for I have too much to write, and it is late, and I trust him, upon your word. To be

short, he! will go anywhere upon my word. Alas! and I never deceived anybody; but I remit’ myself wholly to your will. And send me word what I shall do, and whatever happen to me, I will obey you. Think also if you will not find some invention more secret, by physic,* for he is to take physic at Craigmillar, and the baths also, and shall not come forth of+ long time. To be short,

for that that? I can learn, he hath great suspicion, and yet nevertheless trusteth upon my word, but not to tell me as yet anything. Howbeit, if you will that I shall avow® him, I will know all of him; but I shall never be willing’ to beguile one who putteth his trust in me. Nevertheless, you may do all.’ And do not esteem me the less therefore, for you are the cause thereof; for, for my

own revenge, I would not do it. He giveth me certain charges” (and those strong) of that that I fear: even to say that his faults be published, but there be that commit some secret faults and fear not to have them spoken of so loudly, and that there is speech of great and small. And even touching the Lady Reres,! he said, “God grant that she serve you to your honor,” and that men may not think, nor he nei-

ther, that mine own power was not in myself,* seeing I did refuse his offers. To conclude, for a surety he mistrusteth us of that that you know,’ and for his life. But in the end, after | had spoken two or three good words to him,

he was very merry and glad. I have not seen him this night, for ending* your bracelet; but I can find no clasps for it. It is ready thereunto,’ and yet I fear lest it should bring you ill hap, or that it should be known if you were hurt.° Send me word whether you will have it, and more money,’ and when I shall return, and how far I may speak. * * * He hath sent to me, and prayeth me to see him rise tomorrow in the morning early. To be short, this bearer shall declare unto you the rest; and if I shall learn anything, I will make every night a memorial® thereof. He shall tell you the cause of my stay.’ Burn this letter, for it is too dangerous, neither is there anything well said in it, for I think upon nothing but upon grief if you be at Edinburgh.! Now if to please you, my dear life, | spare neither honor, conscience, nor hazard, nor greatness, take it in good part, and not according to the

9. Small(er).

“This

bearer”:

the bearer of the

letter. 1. Ie., Darnley. 2. Submit. 3. Medicine (i.e., a poisoned drink). “Invention”: contrivance. If Mary wrote this sentence, it

shows her complicit in the plot to murder Darnley, who was in fact strangled—and the house he was occupying at Kirk O’Field, just outside Edinburgh, blown up—on the night of February 9-10, 1567. 4. Fora.

5. As far as. 6. Assure him by taking a vow. “Howbeit”: however. 7. Le., without reluctance. 8. I.e., you may command me in all things. 9. Admonitions. The idea seems to be that Darnley hinted that he might reveal Mary’s secrets.

1. She was acting as wet nurse to Mary’s son, James (later James VI of Scotland and, in 1603, James | of England), 2. Le., that I was not acting of my own will. 3. The thing that you know about. “For a surety”: for certain. 4. Because I was finishing.

5. Apart from that. 6. Recognized

if you

were

wounded

(and thus

powerless to conceal the bracelet). “HI hap”: misfortune. 7. I.e., whether you want more money. 8. Memorandum. 9. Delay. 1. The Scottish translation makes this clause the beginning of a new sentence, which says, in effect, “If you are in Edinburgh when you receive this, send me word soon.”

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interpretation of your false brother-in-law,* to whom I pray you give no credit against the most faithful lover that ever you had, or shall have. See not also her whose feigned tears you ought not more to regard than the true travails which I endure to deserve her place, for obtaining of which, against my own nature I do betray those that could let? me. God forgive me, and give you, my only friend,* the good luck and prosperity that your humble and faithful lover doth wish unto you: who hopeth shortly to be another thing unto you, for the reward of my pains. I have not made’ one word, and it is very late, although I should never be weary in writing to you, yet will I end, after kissing of your hands. Excuse my evil® writing, and read it over twice. Excuse also that [I scribbled,’ for I had yesternight no paper, when I took the paper of a memorial.® ... Remember your friend, and write unto her, and often. Love me allways, as I shall do you].’ 1567

ise

A Letter to Elizabeth I, May 17, 1568! Madam my good sister,” I believe you are not ignorant how long certain of my subjects, whom from the least of my kingdom I have raised to be the first, have taken upon themselves to involve me in trouble, and to do what it appears they had in view from the first. You know how they purposed to seize me and the late king my husband, from which attempt it pleased God to protect us, and to permit us to expel them from the country, where, at your request, | again afterwards received them; though, on their return, they committed another crime, that of holding me a prisoner, and killing in my presence a servant of mine, | being at the time in a state of pregnancy.’ It again pleased God that I should save myself from their hands; and, as above

said, I not only pardoned them, but even received them into favor. They, however, not yet satisfied with so many acts of kindness, have, on the contrary, in spite of their promises, devised, favored, subscribed to, and aided in

a crime* for the purpose of charging it falsely upon me, as I hope fully to make you understand. They have, under this pretence, arrayed themselves

2. Presumably the brother of Bothwell’s wife, Jean Gordon, who in turn is presumably the person referred to in the following sentence. 3. Prevent.

4. Lover.

5. Possibly “reade’—in which case the meaning is “I have not read over a word.” o> .

Poor. 7. Words torn off the English manuscript here; reading inferred from the Scottish translation. 8. She apologizes for having had to use paper already used for memoranda. 9. Again words torn from the English manuscript are inferred from the Scottish translation. The latter continues with what seem to be the

memoranda—to herself or perhaps to the bearer of the letter—mentioned earlier: “Remember zow lyou| of the purpois of the Lady Reres. Of the Inglismen. Of his mother. Of the Erle of Argyle.

Of the Erle Bothwell. Of the ludgeing [lodging]

in Edinburgh.” 1. This letter (translated from the French by Agnes Strickland) was written just after Mary, in flight from her Scottish enemies, made her fateful

crossing into England. Its account of her troubles is, though not exaggerated, inevitably one-sided. In 1565, Mary’s ill-advised marriage to her cousin

Lord Darnley had upset the power structure of the nation’s factious and violent nobility. A group of nobles rebelled against her, led by Mary’s illegitimate half-brother James Stewart, earl of Moray, who had previously been her key supporter and adviser. 2. Fellow queen. 3. The servant was David Rizzio, Mary's secretary and confidant. At the time of his murder, Mary was six months pregnant with her only child, the future King James VI. She omits the fact that Darnley was involved in the murder. 4. The murder of Darnley.

MARY

SUVARI

LE TTRe MOE

ZAIB El

Hv

|

2S

against me, accusing me of being ill-advised, and pretending a desire of seeing me delivered from bad counsels, in order to point out to me the things that required reformation. I, feeling myself innocent, and desirous to avoid the shedding of blood, placed myself in their hands, wishing to reform what was amiss.” They immediately seized and imprisoned me. When I upbraided them with a breach of their promise, and requested to be informed why I was thus treated, they all absented themselves. | demanded to be heard in council, which was refused me. In short, they have kept me without any servants, except two women, a cook, and a surgeon; and they have threatened to kill me, if I did not sign an abdication of my crown, which the fear of immediate death caused me to do,° as I have since proved before the whole of the nobility, of which I hope to afford you evidence. After this, they again laid hold of me in parliament, without saying why, and without hearing me; forbidding, at the same time, every advocate to plead for me; and, compelling the rest to acquiesce in their unjust usurpation of my rights, they have robbed me of everything I had in the world, not permitting me either to write or to speak, in order that I might not contradict their false inventions. At last, it pleased God to deliver me,’ when they thought of putting me to death, that they might make more sure of their power, though I repeatedly offered to answer any thing they had to say to me, and to join them in the punishment of those who should be guilty of any crime. In short, it pleased God to deliver me, to the great content of all my subjects, except Moray, Morton, the Humes, Glencairn, Mar, and Sempill, to whom, after that my whole

nobility was come from all parts, | sent to say that, notwithstanding their ingratitude and unjust cruelty employed against me, I was willing to invite them to return to their duty, and to offer them security of their lives and estates, and to hold a parliament for the purpose of reforming every thing. I sent twice. They seized and imprisoned my messengers, and made proclamation, declaring traitors all those who should assist me, and guilty of that

odious crime. I demanded that they should name one of them, and I would give him up, and begged them, at the same time, to deliver to me such as should be named to them. They seized upon my officer and my proclamation. I sent to demand a safe-conduct for my Lord Boyd, in order to treat of an accommodation, not wishing, as far as | might be concerned, for any effusion of blood. They refused, saying that those who had not been true to their regent and to my son, whom they denominate king, should leave me and put themselves at their disposal, a thing at which the whole nobility were greatly offended. Seeing, therefore, that they were only a few individuals, and that my nobility were more attached to me than ever, I was in hope that, in course of time, and under your favor, they would be gradually reduced; and, seeing that they said they would either retake me or all die, | proceeded toward Dumbarton,” 5. Unhappy about the elevation of Bothwell to the position of Mary’s consort (she had married him three months after Darnley’s murder, in which he was well known to have been the principal conspirator), the nobles brought an army against the royal couple in June 1567. With their own forces melting away, Bothwell escaped, and Mary surrendered herself to the nobles.

6. In late July. Her infant son was then crowned king on July 29, in a Protestant church. Moray

became regent. 7. Mary escaped from captivity on May 2, 1568. 8. In the west of Scotland. The royal army passed near Glasgow, in a deliberate attempt to draw Moray’s army, which was smaller, into battle.

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passing at the distance of two miles from them, my nobility accompanying me, marching in order of battle between them and me; which they seeing, sallied forth, and came to cut off my way and take me. My people seeing this, and moved by that extreme malice of my enemies, with a view to check their progress, encountered them without order, so that, though they were twice their number, their sudden advance caused them so great a disadvantage that God permitted them to be discomfited, and several killed and taken; some of

them were cruelly put to death when taken on their retreat. The pursuit was immediately interrupted, in order to take me on my way to Dumbarton; they stationed people in every direction, either to kill or take me. But God through his infinite goodness has preserved me, and I escaped to my Lord Herries’s,’ who, as well as other gentlemen, have come with me into your country,! being assured that, hearing the cruelty of my enemies, and how they have treated me, you will, conformably to your kind disposition and the confidence I have in you, not only receive me for the safety of my life but also aid and assist me in my just quarrel; and I shall solicit other princes to do the same. I entreat you to send to fetch me as soon as you possibly can,” for 1am in a pitiable condition, not only for a queen, but for a gentlewoman; for I have nothing in the world but what I had on my person when I made my escape, traveling across the country the first day, and not having since ever ventured to proceed except in the night, as I hope to declare before you, if it pleases you to have pity, as I trust you will, upon my extreme misfortune; of which I will forbear complaining, in order not to importune you, and pray to God that he may give to you a happy state of health and long life, and to me patience, and that consolation which I expect to receive from you, to whom I present my humble commendations. From Workington, the 17th of May.

Your most faithful and affectionate good sister, and cousin, and escaped prisoner, Mary R23

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1844

From Narrative of the Execution of the Queen of Scots. In a Letter to the Right Honorable Sir William Cecil! It may please your lordship to be advertised? that, according as your honor gave me in command, I have here set down in writing the true order and manner of the execution of the Lady Mary, late queen of Scots, the 8th of February last, in the great hall within the castle of Fotheringhay,? together 9. Herries was a magnate

of southwestern

Scot-

land, which remained strongly Catholic. 1. Crossing the Solway Firth in a fishing boat, Mary and twenty supporters landed in the Cumberland port of Workington on May 16, 1568. 2. Elizabeth never granted Mary an audience; two days after arriving in England, she was conducted to Carlisle Castle, where her nineteen years of English captivity began. 3. A royal signature: “R.”=“Regina” (Latin for “Queen”).

1. Elizabeth's lord high treasurer and principal minister. The author of the letter (of which there

are various versions extant) was

Robert Wing-

field, Cecil’s nephew, sent by him to report on the execution. 2. Informed. 3. In Northamptonshire. Mary had been moved to Fotheringhay in September 1586 and was there tried and convicted of treason against Elizabeth (though she was not Elizabeth’s subject).

LE

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with relation of all such speeches and actions spoken and done by the said queen or any others, and all other circumstances and proceedings concerning the same, from and after the delivery of the said Scottish queen to Thomas Andrews, Esquire, high sheriff for Her Majesty’s county of Northampton, unto the end of the said execution: as followeth.

It being certified the 6th of February last to the said queen, by the right honorable the earl of Kent, the earl of Shrewsbury, and also by Sir Amyas Paulet and Sir Drue Drury, her governors,‘ that she was to prepare herself to die the 8th of February next, she seemed not [to] be in any terror, for aught that appeared by any her outward gesture or behavior (other than marveling she should die), but rather with smiling cheer and pleasing countenance digested and accepted the said admonition of preparation to her (as she said) unexpected execution, saying that her death should be welcome unto her, seeing Her Majesty was so resolved, and that that soul were too too far unworthy the fruition of joys of heaven forever, whose body would not in this world be content to endure the stroke of the executioner for a moment. And that spoken, she wept bitterly and became silent. The said 8th day of February being come, and time and place appointed for the execution, the said queen, being of stature tall, of body corpulent, roundshouldered, her face fat and broad, double-chinned, and hazel-eyed, her bor-

rowed hair auburn, her attire was this. On her head she had a dressing of lawn edged with bone lace,’ a pomander chain® and an Angus Dei about her neck,’ a crucifix in her hand, a pair of beads at her girdle,* with a silver cross at the end of them. A veil of lawn fastened to her caul,? bowed out with wire

and edged round about with bone lace. Her gown was of black satin painted, with a train and long sleeves to the ground, set with acorn buttons of jet trimmed with pearl, and short sleeves of satin black cut,’ with a pair of sleeves of purple velvet whole under them. Her kirtle? whole, of figured black satin, and her petticoat skirts of crimson velvet, her shoes of Spanish leather with the rough side outward, a pair of green silk garters, her nether stockings* worsted colored watchet,* clocked’ with silver, and edged on the tops with silver, and next her leg a pair ofjersey® hose, white, etc. Thus apparelled, she departed her chamber, and willingly bended her steps towards the place of execution.

As the commissioners and divers other knights were meeting the queen coming forth, one of her servants, called Melvin,’ kneeling on his knees to his queen and mistress, wringing his hands and shedding tears, used these words unto her: “Ah, Madam, unhappy me: what man on earth was ever before the messenger of so important sorrow and heaviness as I shall be,

4. Keepers. The earls of Kent and Shrewsbury were sent by the royal council to oversee the execution. Paulet had been Mary’s principal custodian since January 1585; Drury joined him in his

charge in November 1586. 5. Lace that is woven with bobbins made of bone. “Lawn”: fine linen. 6. Pomander is a mixture of aromatic substances; a small bag of it was sometimes suspended from a necklace. 7. A medallion bearing the figure of a lamb: an emblem of Christ. From “Agnus Dei” (“Lamb of God”; Latin), a part of the Mass beginning with

those words.

8. Belt. “Beads”: rosary beads. 9. Close-fitting cap. 1. Slashed, to reveal the contrasting-colored sleeves beneath. 2. Outer petticoat. 3. “Nether stockings” means simply “stockings.” (“Nether” =“of the legs.”) 4. Light blue. 5. Embroidered. 6. Worsted. 7. Sir Andrew Melville.

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when I report that my good and gracious queen and mistress is beheaded in England?” This said, tears prevented him of further speaking. Whereupon the said queen, pouring forth her dying tears, thus answered him: “My good servant, cease to lament, for thou hast cause rather to joy than to mourn. For now shalt thou see Mary Stuart’s troubles receive their long-expected end and determination.

For know (said she), good servant, all the world is but

vanity, and subject still to more sorrow than a whole ocean of tears can bewail. But I pray thee (said she), carry this message from me, that I die a true woman to my religion, and like a true queen of Scotland and France. But God forgive them (said she) that have long desired my end and thirsted for my blood, as the hart doth for the water brooks. Oh God (said she), thou that art the author of truth, and truth itself, knowest the inward chamber of my

thought, how that I was ever willing that England and Scotland should be united together. Well (said she), commend me to my son, and tell him that I have not done anything prejudicial to the state and kingdom of Scotland”; and so resolving® herself again into tears, said, “Good Melvin, farewell”; and

with weeping eyes and her cheeks all besprinkled with tears as they were, kissed him, saying once again, “Farewell, good Melvin, and pray for thy mistress and queen.” And then she turned herself unto the lords, and told them she had certain

requests to make unto them. One was, for certain money to be paid to Curle, her servant. Sir Amyas Paulet, knowing of that money, answered to this effect, “it should.” Next, that her poor servants might have that with quietness’ which she had given them by her will, and that they might be favorably entreated,' and to send them safely into their countries. “To this (said she) I

conjure* you.” Last, that it would please the lords to permit her poor distressed servants to be present about her at her death, that their eyes and hearts may see and witness how patiently their queen and mistress would endure her execution, and so make relation, when they came into their country, that she died a true constant Catholic to her religion. Then the earl of Kent did answer thus: “Madam,

that which you have desired cannot conve-

niently be granted. For if it should, it were to be feared lest some of them, with speeches or other behavior, would both be grievous to Your Grace and troublesome and unpleasing to us and our company, whereof we have had some experience. For if such an access might be allowed, they would not stick to put some superstitious trumpery in practice, and if it were but dipping their handkerchiefs in Your Grace’s blood, whereof it were very unmeet?* for us to give allowance.” “My lord,” said the queen of Scots, “I will give my word, although it be but dead, that they shall not deserve any blame in any the actions you have named.

But alas, poor souls, it would do them good to bid their mistress

farewell; and I hope your mistress” (meaning the queen), “being a maiden queen, will vouchsafe in regard oft womanhood that I shall have some of my own people about me at my death: and I know Her Majesty hath not given

8. Dissolving. 9. Without contestation.

|. Treated.

Earnestly entreat. . Unfitting. BWwWhY For

the sake of.

DES

EXE CUT TON

VO

WT HE

OUPRENTO

SiGOTS

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PDWIE

you any such strait? charge or commission but that you might grant me a request of far greater courtesy than this is, if |were

a woman of far meaner

calling® than the queen of Scots.” And then, perceiving that she could not obtain her request without some difficulty, burst out into tears, saying, “I am cousin to your queen, and descended from the blood royal of Henry the Seventh, and a married queen of France, and an anointed queen of Scotland.” Then, upon great consultation had betwixt the two earls and the others in commission, it was granted to her what she instantly’ before earnestly entreated, and desired her to make choice of six of her best-beloved men and

women. Then of her men she chose Melvin, her apothecary, her surgeon, and one old man more;® and of her women, those two which did lie in her chamber. Then, with an unappalled countenance, without any terror of the

place, the persons, or the preparations, she came out of the entry into the hall, stepped up to the scaffold, being two foot high and twelve foot broad, with rails round about, hanged and covered with black, with a low stool,

long fair cushion, and a block covered also with black. The stool brought her, she sat down. The earl of Kent stood on the right hand, the earl of

Shrewsbury on the other, other knights and gentlemen stood about the rails. The commission

for her execution

was

read (after silence made) by Mr.

Beale, clerk of the council;? which done, the people with a loud voice said, “God save the Queen!” During the reading of this commission, the said queen was very silent, listening unto it with so careless a regard as if it had not concerned her at all, nay, rather with so merry and cheerful a countenance as if it had been a pardon from Her Majesty for her life; and withal!

used such a strangeness in her words as if she had not known any of the assembly, nor had been anything seen? in the English tongue. Then Mr. Doctor Fletcher, dean of Peterborough,’ standing directly before her without? the rails, bending his body with great reverence, uttered the exhortation following: “Madam, the Queen’s Most Excellent Majesty (whom God preserve long to reign over us), having (notwithstanding this preparation for the execution of justice justly to be done upon you for your many trespasses against her sacred person, state, and government) a tender care over your soul, which presently departing out of your body must either be separated in the true faith in Christ or perish forever, doth for Jesus Christ offer unto you the comfortable> promises of God, wherein I beseech Your Grace, even in the bowels

of Jesus Christ,° to consider these three things: “First, your state past, and transitory glory; “Secondly, your condition present, of death; “Thirdly, your estate to come, either in everlasting happiness or perpetual infelicity.

Strict. Far lower station. Importunely. Her aged porter, Didier. I.e., the royal council. 1. As well. 2. At all fluent. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

3. 4. 5. 6. of

Le., of the Anglican cathedral there. Outside. Comforting, reassuring. i “In the bowels of Jesus Christ”: in the name as the regarded were Christ’s pity. The bowels

seat of pity and compassion.

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“For the first, let me speak to Your Grace with David the King: Forget, Madam, yourself, and your own people, and your father’s house; forget your natural birth, your regal and princely dignity: so shall the King of Kings have pleasure in your spiritual beauty, etc.’ “Madam, even now, Madam, doth God Almighty open you a door into a heavenly kingdom; shut not therefore this passage by the hardening of your heart, and grieve not the Spirit of God, which may seal your hope to a day of redemption.” The queen three or four times said unto him, “Mr. Dean, trouble not yourself nor me: for know that I am settled in the ancient Catholic and Roman religion, and in defense thereof, by God’s grace, I mind to spend my blood.” Then said Mr. Dean, “Madam, change your opinion, and repent you of your former wickedness. Settle your faith only upon this ground, that in Christ Jesus you hope to be saved.” She answered again and again, with great earnestness, “Good Mr. Dean, trouble yourself not anymore about this matter, for | was born in this religion, have lived in this religion, and am resolved

to die in this religion.” Then the earls, when they saw how far uncomfortable’ she was to hear Mr.

Dean’s good exhortation, said, “Madam, we will pray for Your Grace with Mr. Dean, that you may have your mind lightened with the true knowledge of God and his word.” “My lords,” answered the queen, “if you will pray with me, I will even from my heart thank you, and think myself greatly favored by you; but to join in prayer with you in your manner, who are not of one’ religion with me, it were a sin, and I will not.”

Then the lords called Mr. Dean again, and bade him say on, or what he thought good else. The dean kneeled and prayed. * * *! All the assembly, save the queen and her servants, said the prayer after Mr. Dean as he spake it, during which prayer the queen sat upon her stool, having her Agnus Dei, crucifix, beads, and an office* in Latin. Thus furnished with superstitious trumpery, not regarding what Mr. Dean said, she began very fastly* with tears and a loud voice to pray in Latin, and in the midst of her prayers, with overmuch weeping and mourning, slipped off her stool, and kneeling presently said diverse other Latin prayers. Then she rose, and kneeled down again, praying in English for Christ’s afflicted church, an end of her troubles, for her son, and for the Queen’s Majesty, to God for forgiveness of the sins of them in this island: she forgave her enemies with all her heart, that had long sought her blood. This done, she desired all saints to make intercession for her to the Savior of the World, Jesus Christ. Then she began to kiss her crucifix and to cross herself, saying these words: “Even as thy arms, oh Jesu Christ, were spread here upon the cross, so receive me into the arms of mercy.” Then the two executioners kneeled down unto her, desiring her to forgive them her death. She answered, “I forgive you with all 7. The dean paraphrases Psalms 45.10—11, a passage addressed to the bride of a king: “forget also

thine own people, and thy father’s house; So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty.” 8. Unwilling. 9. The same.

1. The dean prays at considerable length, beseeching God to wash away Mary’s “blindness

and ignorance of heavenly things.” — 2. Prayer book. 3. Steadfastly.

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22

my heart. For I hope this death shall give an end to all my troubles.” They, with her two women helping, began to disrobe her, and then she laid the crucifix upon the stool. One of the executioners took from her neck the Agnus Dei, and she laid hold of it, saying she would give it to one of her women, and, withal, told the executioner that he should have money for it.4 Then they took off her chain. She made herself unready? with a kind of gladness, and, smiling, putting on a pair of sleeves with her own hands, which the two executioners before had rudely® put off, and with such speed as if she had longed to be gone out of the world. During the disrobing of this queen, she never altered her countenance, but smiling said she never had such grooms before to make her unready, nor ever did put off her clothes before such a company. At length, unattired and unapparelled to her petticoat and kirtle, the two women burst out into a great and pitiful shrieking, crying, and lamentation, crossed themselves, and prayed in Latin. The queen turned towards them: “Ne criez vous; j’ai promis pour vous’;’ and so crossed and kissed them, and bade them pray for her. Then with a smiling countenance she turned to her menservants, Melvin

and the rest, crossed them, bade them fare well, and pray for her to the last. One of the women

having a Corpus Christi cloth,® lapped? it up three-

corner-wise and kissed it, and put it over the face of her queen, and pinned it fast upon the caul of her head. Then the two women departed. The queen kneeled down upon the cushion resolutely, and without any token of fear of death, said aloud in Latin the Psalm “In te, Domine, confido.”! Then, groping

for the block, she laid down her head, putting her chain over her back with both her hands, which, holding there still,? had been cut off, had they not

been espied. Then she laid herself upon the block most quietly, and stretching out her arms and legs cried out: “In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum,’” three or four times.

At last, while one of the executioners held her straitly* with one of his hands, the other gave two strokes with an axe before he did cut off her head, and yet left a little gristle behind. She made very small noise, no part stirred from the place where she lay. The executioners lifted up the head, and bade God save the Queen. Then her dressing of lawn fell from her head,’ which appeared as gray as if she had been threescore and ten years old,° polled’ very short. Her face much altered, her lips stirred up and down almost a quarter of an hour after her head was cut off. Then said Mr. Dean: “So perish all the Queen’s enemies!” The earl of

4. A condemned person’s adornments were normally perquisites of the executioner.

1. Psalms 10 (Vulgate), 11 (King James): “In the Lord put I my trust.”

5. Undressed.

2. L.e., if her hands had remained there.

6. Roughly. 7. “Don’t make an outcry; I promised you wouldn't.” 8. The veil (also known as the “pyx cloth”) that covered the vessel holding the consecrated Host the Communion. “Corpus Christi”: the body of

3. Luke 13.46: “Father, into thy hands 1 commend my spirit”: the words of Christ on the Cross. 4. Tightly. 5. That is, her headcovering and auburn wig came off in the executioner’s hand. 6. She was actually forty-four.

Christ (Latin). 9. Folded.

PaGute

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The execution of Mary, Queen of Scots. Though this watercolor image was not painted until some years after Mary’s execution, it reflects eyewitness accounts. The minister depicted is likely Dr. Richard Fletcher, dean of Peterborough, who was so nervous that he stammered and never actually delivered his sermon because he was interrupted by Mary herself. Mary wears a Corpus Christi cloth around her head as a blindfold. On the stool beside her is a prayer book, and in her hands a crucifix. Her gentlewomen stand weeping to the left of the scaffold, which is covered in black cloth. On the far left of the image is a bonfire, for burning any cloth or other items with Mary’s blood on them so that they could not serve as Catholic relics after her death.

Kent came to the dead body, and with a loud voice said, “Such end happen to

all the Queen’s and Gospel’s enemies.” One of the executioners, plucking off her garters, espied her little dog, which was crept under her clothes, which would not be gotten forth but with force, and afterwards would not depart from the dead corpse, but came and laid between her head and shoulders: a thing much noted. The dog, imbrued in her blood, was carried away and washed, as all things else were that had any blood, save those things which were burned. The executioners were sent away with money for their fees, not having any one thing that belonged unto her. Afterwards everyone was commanded forth of the hall, saving* the sheriff and his men, who carried her up

into a great chamber made ready for the surgeons to embalm her; and there she was embalmed. And thus I hope (my very good lord) I have certifieth Your Honor of all actions, matters, and circumstances as did proceed from her or any other at her death: wherein | dare promise unto your good lordship (if not in some better or worse words than were spoken I am somewhat mistaken), in matter

[ have not in any whit offended.” Howbeit,' I will not so justify my duty 8. Except. “Forth of”: out of. 9. l.e., though I may not have gotten the speeches word-for-word, I promise that my account is com-

pletely accurate in substance. |. However.

ERIZAB Et

rel

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7a) |

herein but that? many things might well have been omitted, as not worthy noting. Yet because it is your lordship’s fault to desire to know all, and so I have certified all, it is an offense pardonable. So, resting at Your Honor’s further commandment, I take my leave this 11th of February, 1587. Your Honor’s in all humble service to command, R. W.

1587

1843

2. Le., I will concede that.

ELIZABETH:

|

lizabeth I (1533-1603), queen of England from 1558 to her death, set her mark

indelibly on the age that has come to bear her name. Endowed with intelligence, courage, eloquence, and a talent for self-display, she managed to survive and flourish in a world that would easily have crushed a weaker person. Her birth was a disappointment to her father, Henry VIII, who had hoped for a male heir to the throne, and her prospects were further dimmed when her mother, Anne Boleyn, was executed a few years later on charges of adultery and treason. By an act of Parliament she was ruled illegitimate. At six years old, observers noted, Elizabeth had as much gravity as if she had been forty. Under distinguished tutors, including the Protestant humanist Roger Ascham, the young princess received a rigorous education, with training in classical and modern languages, history, rhetoric, theology, and moral philosophy. Her own religious orientation was also Protestant, which put her in great danger during the reign of her Catholic older half-sister, Mary. Imprisoned in the Tower of London,

interrogated and constantly spied upon, Elizabeth steadfastly professed innocence, loyalty, and a pious abhorrence of heresy. Upon Mary’s death, she ascended the throne and quickly made clear that the official religion of the land would be Protestantism.

When she came to the throne, at twenty-five, speculation about a suitable match, already widespread, intensified. It remained for decades at a fever pitch, for the stakes were high. If Elizabeth died childless, the Tudor line would come to an end. The nearest heir was her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots, a Catholic whose claim was supported by France and by the papacy, and whose penchant for sexual and political intrigue soon confirmed the worst fears of English Protestants. The obvious way to avert the nightmare was for Elizabeth to marry and produce an heir, and the pressure on her to do so was intense. More than the royal succession hinged on the question of the queen’s marriage; Elizabeth’s perceived eligibility was a vital factor in the complex machinations of international diplomacy. A dynastic marriage between the queen of England and a foreign ruler could forge an alliance sufficient to alter the balance of power in Europe. The English court hosted a steady stream of ambassadors from kings and princelings eager to win the hand of the royal maiden, and Elizabeth played her romantic part with exemplary skill, sighing and spinning the negotiations out for months and even years. Most probably, she never meant to marry any of her numerous foreign (and domestic) suitors. “She is determined,” a shrewd Spanish observer

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wrote to his king, at the moment that Elizabeth ascended to the throne, “to be governed by no one.” Marriage would have meant the end of her independence as well as the end of the complex diplomatic game by which she played off one power against another. One day she would seem to be on the verge of accepting a proposal; the next, she would vow never to forsake her virginity. “She is a princess,” the French ambassador remarked, “who can act any part she pleases.” Ultimately she refused all offers and declared repeatedly that she was wedded to her country. In the face of deep skepticism about the ability of any woman to rule, Elizabeth strategically blended imperiousness with an elaborate cult of love. Quickly making it clear that she would not be a figurehead, she gathered around her an able group of advisers, but she held firmly to the reins of power, subtly manipulating factional disputes, conducting diplomacy, and negotiating with an often contentious Parliament. Her courtiers and advisers, on their knees, approached the queen, glittering in jewels and gorgeous gowns, and addressed her in extravagant terms that conjoined romantic passion and religious veneration. Artists and poets celebrated her in mythological guise—as Diana, the chaste goddess of the moon; Astraea, the goddess of justice; Gloriana, the queen of the fairies. Though she could suddenly veer, whenever she chose, toward bluntness and anger, Elizabeth often contrived to

transform the language of politics into the language of love. “We all loved her,” her godson John Harington wrote, “for she said she loved us.” Throughout her life, Elizabeth took pride in her command of languages (she spoke fluent French and Italian and read Latin and Greek) and in her felicity of expression. Her own writing includes carefully crafted letters and speeches on several state occasions; a number of prayers; prose and verse translations, including works of Horace, Seneca, Plutarch, Boethius, Calvin, and the French Protestant

Queen Margaret of Navarre; and a few original poems. The original poems known to be hers deal with actual events in her life. They show her to have been an exceptionally agile, poised, and self-conscious writer, a gifted role-player fully in control of the rhetorical as well as political situation in which she found herself. The texts printed here, occasionally altered in light of variant versions, are from Elizabeth I: Collected Works, ed. Leah Marcus, Janel Mueller, and Mary Beth Rose (2000).*

Verses Written with a Diamond

In her imprisonment at Woodstock, these verses she wrote with her diamond in a glass window:! Much suspected by? me, Nothing proved can be. Quod? Elizabeth the prisoner 1554-55

“ For a painting of the queen in procession, see the color insert in this volume. 1. This is the heading given to the verses in John Foxe's Acts and Monuments. After the insurrection of January 1554 against Mary I, Elizabeth was imprisoned in the Tower of London. Extensive interrogation and_ investigation yielded

1563

against her no firm evidence of treason, but she was transferred to the royal manor at Woodstock in Oxfordshire and held there in close custody for a year. 2. About. 3. Quoth, said.

73725}

From The Passage of Our Most Dread Sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth through the City of London to Westminster on the Day before Her Coronation! “* Her grace, by holding up her hands and merry countenance to such as stood far off, and most tender and gentle language to those that stood nigh to her grace, did declare herself no less thankfully to receive her people’s goodwill than they lovingly offered it unto her. To all that wished her grace well she gave hearty thanks, and to such as bade God save her grace she said again,” God save them all, and thanked them with all her heart. So that on

either side there was nothing but gladness, nothing but prayer, nothing but comfort. The queen’s majesty rejoiced marvelously to see it so exceedingly showed toward her grace which all good princes have ever desired: I mean, so earnest love of subjects, so evidently declared even to her grace’s own person being carried in the midst of them. The people, again, were wonderfully ravished with welcoming answers and gestures of their princess, like to the which they had before tried at her first coming to the Tower from Hatfield.* This her grace’s loving behavior, preconceived in the people’s heads, upon these considerations was thoroughly confirmed, and indeed implanted a wonderful hope in them touching her worthy government in the rest of her reign. For in all her passage she did not only show her most gracious love toward the people in general, but also privately. If the baser personages had either offered her grace any flowers or such like as a signification of their goodwill, or moved to her any suit, she most gently, to the common rejoicing of all the lookers-on and private comfort of the party, stayed her chariot* and heard their requests. So that if a man should say well, he could not better term the City of London that time than a stage wherein was showed the wonderful spectacle of a noble-hearted princess toward her most loving people and the people’s exceeding comfort in beholding so worthy a sovereign and hearing so princelike a voice. * * * Out at the windows and penthouses of every house did hang a number of rich and costly banners and streamers, till her grace came to the upper end of Cheap.> And there, by appointment, the right worshipful Master Ranulph Cholmley, recorder® of the City, presented to the queen’s majesty a purse of crimson satin richly wrought with gold, wherein the City gave unto the queen’s majesty a thousand marks’ in gold, as Master Recorder did declare briefly unto the queen’s majesty, whose words tended to this end: that the lord mayor, his brethren, and commonality of the City, to declare their

1. By Richard

Mulcaster

(ca.

1530-1611),

who

became a well-known authority on the education

of children.

Elizabeth

had

succeeded

to the

throne upon the death of Mary I on November 17, 1558, but her coronation did not take place until January 15, 1559. By long-established custom, the ceremonies began the day before the coronation itself, with the ruler being conducted across the city in procession from the Tower of London to Westminster. See the account of Mary’s coronation procession on p. 196.

2. L.e., said in reply. 3. Elizabeth had set out from the royal manor

at

Hatfield

(in

Hertfordshire)

to

London

on

November 23. 4. Wearing a robe made of gold and silver cloth, trimmed with ermine, and overlaid with gold lace, Elizabeth rode in a litter trimmed to the ground with gold damask. 5. Also known as Cheapside or Westcheap: the chief market street in London. (The name derives from the Old English word for “market.”) 6. Senior law officer. 7. The mark was valued at two-thirds of apound sterling, and the pound was worth far more than at present—so this was a very large gift.

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gladness and goodwill towards the queen’s majesty, did present her grace with that gold, Ueseine her grace to continue their good and gracious queen and not to esteem the eile é the gift, but the mind of the givers. The queen’s majesty with both her hands took the purse and arenered to him again marvelous pithily, and so pithily that the standers-by, as they embraced entirely her gracious answer, so they marveled at the couching thereof, which was in words, truly reported these: I thank my lord mayor, his brethren, and you all. And whereas your request is that I should continue your good lady and queen, be ye ensured that I will be as good unto you as ever queen was to her people. No will in me can lack, neither do I trust shall there lack any power. And persuade yourselves that for the safety and quietness of you all I will not spare, if need be, to spend my blood. God thank you all. Which answer of so noble an hearted princess, if it moved a marvelous

shout and rejoicing, it is nothing to be marveled at, since both the heartiness thereof was so wonderful, and the words so jointly® knit. But because princes be set in their seat by God’s appointing and therefore they must first and chiefly tender? the glory of Him from whom their glory issueth, it is to be noted in her grace that forsomuch as God hath so wonderfully placed her in the seat of government over this realm, she in all doings doth show herself most mindful of His goodness and mercy showed unto her. And amongst all other, two principal signs thereof were noted in this passage. First in the Tower, where her grace, before she entered her chariot, lifted up her eyes to heaven and said: O Lord, almighty and everlasting God, I give Thee most hearty thanks that Thou hast been so merciful unto me as to spare me to behold this joyful day. And I acknowledge that Thou hast dealt as wonderfully and

as mercifully with me as hot didst with Thy true and faithful servant Daniel, Thy prophet, whom Thou deliveredst out of the den from the cruelty of the greedy and raging lions.! Even so was I overwhelmed and only by Thee delivered. To Thee (therefore) only be thanks, honor, and praise forever, amen The second was the receiving of the Bible at the Little Conduit? in Cheap. For when her grace had learned that the Bible in English* should there be offered, she thanked the City therefor, promised the reading thereof most

diligently, and incontinent* commanded

that it should be brought. At the

receipt whereof, how reverently did she with both her hands take it, kiss it,

and lay it upon her breast, to the great comfort of the lookers-on! God will undoubtedly preserve so worthy a prince, which at His honor so reverently taketh her beginning. For this saying is true and written in the book of truth: he that first een the kingdom of God shall have all other things cast unto him.’

8. 9. 1. 2.

Concordantly. Have regard to. Daniel 6.16—23. The smaller of two lead pipe water conduits

situated at the west end of Cheap Street.

3. In contrast to the Latin Bibles of the restored Catholicism of Mary’s reign. 4. Immediately. 5. Matthew 6.33.

ELIZABETH

I:

SPEECH

TO

THE

HOUSE

OF

COMMONS

|

IHS)

Now, therefore, all English hearts and her natural people must needs praise God's mercy, which hath sent them so worthy a prince, and pray for her grace’s long continuance amongst us. 1359

[559

Speech to the House of Commons, January 28, 1563! Williams,* I have heard by you the common request of my Commons, which I may well term (methinketh) the whole realm, because they give, as I have heard, in all these matters of Parliament their common

consent to such as

be here assembled. The weight and greatness of this matter might cause in me, being a woman wanting both wit? and memory, some fear to speak and bashfulness besides, a thing appropriate to my sex. But yet the princely seat and kingly throne wherein God (though unworthy) hath constituted me, maketh these two causes to seem little in mine eyes, though grievous perhaps to your ears, and boldeneth me to say somewhat in this matter, which I mean only to touch but not presently to answer. For this so great a demand? needeth both great and grave advice. I read of a philosopher whose deeds upon this occasion | remember better than his name® who always when he was required to give answer in any hard question of school points would rehearse over his alphabet before he would proceed to any further answer therein, not for that he could not presently have answered, but have his wit the riper and better sharpened to answer the matter withal.® If he, a com-

mon man, but’ in matters of school took such delay the better to show his eloquent tale, great cause

may justly move

me

in this, so great a matter

touching the benefits of this realm and the safety of you all, to defer mine answer till some other time, wherein I assure you the consideration of my own safety (although I thank you for the great care that you seem to have thereof) shall be little in comparison of that great regard that I mean to have of the safety and surety of you all. And although God of late seemed to touch me rather like one that He chastised than one that He punished, and though

death possessed almost every joint of me,* so as I wished then that the feeble thread of life, which lasted (methought) all too long, might by Clotho’s hand? have quietly been cut off, yet desired I not then life (as | have some witnesses here) so much for mine own safety, as for yours. For I know that in exchanging of this reign | should have enjoyed a better reign where residence is perpetual.

1. Because a secure royal succession depended on Elizabeth’s marrying and producing an heir, Parliament had been concerned about her single state from the beginning of her reign. The Com-

5. According to the Moral Essays of Plutarch (ca. 46-ca. 120 c.£.), the philosopher was Athenodorus. 6. By that means.

mons raised the matter with her (not for the first

7. Merely.

time) in January 1563; the speech printed here is a later, written version of her extemporaneous response.

8. Elizabeth had nearly died of smallpox the past October. 9. Clotho is one of the three Fates of classical mythology, who spin and eventually cut the thread of each individual life.

2. Thomas Williams, speaker of the Parliament.

3. Intellect. 4. Question.

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There needs no boding of my bane.! [ know now as well as I did before that I am mortal. I know also that I must seek to discharge myself of that great burden that God hath laid upon me; for of them to whom

much

is

committed, much is required.* Think not that I, that in other matters have had convenient? care of you all, will in this matter touching the safety of myself and you all be careless. For | know that this matter toucheth me much nearer than it doth you all, who if the worst happen can lose but your bodies. But if I take not that convenient care that it behoveth me to have therein, I hazard to lose both body and soul. And though I am determined in this so great and weighty a matter to defer mine answer till some other time because I will not in so deep a matter wade with so shallow a wit, yet have I thought good to use these few words, as well to show you that I am neither careless nor unmindful of your safety in this case, as I trust you likewise do not forget that by me you were delivered whilst you were hanging on the bough ready to fall into the mud—yea, to be drowned in the dung; neither* yet the promise which you have here made concerning your duties and due obedience, wherewith, I assure you, I mean to charge’ you, as, further, to let

you understand that I neither mislike any of your requests herein, nor the great care that you seem to have of the surety and safety of yourselves in this matter. Lastly, because I will discharge® some restless heads in whose brains the needless hammers beat with vain judgment that I should mislike this their petition, I say that of the matter and sum thereofI like and allow very well. As to the circumstances, if any be, | mean upon further advice further to answer. And so I assure you all that though after my death you may have many stepdames, yet shall you never have any a more mother than I mean to be unto you all. 1563

192]

From A Speech to a Joint Delegation of Lords and Commons, November 5, 1566! * “ “Was I not born in the realm? Were my parents born in any foreign country? Is there any cause I should alienate myself from being careful over this country? Is not my kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? Whom have I enriched to others’ harm? What turmoil have I made in this commonwealth, that I should be suspected to have no regard to the same? How have ] . Prognosticating of my death. 2. Luke 12.48. 3. Befitting. 4. Nor. “Mud... dung”: harsh characterizations of the Roman Catholicism that Mary I had been restoring to England.

5. Exhort. 6. Disabuse. 1. The birth on June 19, 1566, of ason—James—

to Mary, Queen of Scots, imparted new urgency to the concern about Elizabeth’s unmarried state.

Mary was Elizabeth’s second cousin and, in the absence of any child of Elizabeth's own, had a strong claim to be her heir; Mary’s male child would have an even stronger one. On November 5, a delegation of sixty members of the Lords and Commons met with Elizabeth, to urge her to marry and also to establish formally the line of succession. After the meeting, a member of the delegation wrote down Elizabeth’s impromptu response.

ELVZABiEDHMia

SPEECH

TOVLOR

DISBAND!

GOIMMOIS

|

2M,

I governed since my reign? I will be tried by envy itself.* I need not to use many words, for my deeds do try me. Well, the matter whereof they? would have made their petition, as | am

informed, consisteth in two points: in my marriage and in the limitation of the succession of the crown, wherein my marriage was first placed as for manner* sake. I did send them answer by my Council | would marry, although of mine own disposition I was not inclined thereunto. But that was not accepted nor credited, although spoken by their prince. And yet I used so many words that I could say no more. And were it not now I had spoken those words, | would never speak them again. I will never break the word of a prince spoken in public place, for my honor? sake. And therefore I say again I will marry as soon as I can conveniently, if God take not him away with whom I mind to marry, or myself, or else some other great let® happen. I can say no more except’ the party were present. And I hope to have children; otherwise I would never marry. A strange order of petitioners, that will make a request and cannot be otherwise ascertained® but by the prince’s word, and yet will not believe it when it is spoken! But they, I think, that moveth the same will be as ready to mislike him with whom I shall marry as they are now to move it, and then it will appear they nothing meant it. I thought they would have been rather ready to have given me thanks than to have made any new request for the same. There hath been some that have, ere this, said unto me they never required more than that they might once hear me say I would marry. Well, there was never so great a treason but might be covered under as fair a pretense. The second point was the limitation of the succession of the crown, wherein was nothing said for my safety, but only for themselves. A strange thing that the foot should direct the head in so weighty a cause, which cause hath been so diligently weighed by us for that? it toucheth us more than them. I am sure there was not one of them that ever was a second person,' as I have been, and have tasted of the practices against my sister, who | would to God were alive again. I had great occasions to hearken to their motions,? of whom

some

of them are of the Common

House.

But when

friends fall out truth doth appear, according to the old proverb, and were it not for my honor, their knavery should be known. There were occasions in me at that time: I stood in danger of my life, my sister was so incensed against me. I did differ from her in religion and I was sought for divers ways; and so shall never be my successor. I have conferred before this time with those that are well learned and have asked their opinions touching the limitation of succession, who have been silent—not that by their silence after lawlike manner’ they have seemed to assent to it, but that indeed they could not tell what to say, considering the great peril to the realm and most danger to myself. But now the matter 2. Le., envy itself could not fault my governance. 3. Parliament, which had planned to submit a written petition to the queen. 4. Manners’. 5. Honor’s. 6. Hindrance. At the time, there were negotiations forapossible match with Archduke Charles of Austria.

7. Unless. 8. Assured. 9. Because. 1. Next in line to the throne, as Elizabeth had been under her half-sister, Mary I. 2. To pay heed to their doings. 3. In accordance with the legal maxim (that silence implies consent).

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must needs go trimly and pleasantly, when the bowl runneth all on the one side.t And alas, not one amongst them all would answer for us, but all their

speeches was for the surety® of their country. They would have twelve or fourteen limited in succession, and the mo® the better. And those shall be of

such uprightness and so divine as in them shall be divinity itself. Kings were wont to honor philosophers, but if Ihad such’ I would honor them as angels, that should have such piety in them that they would not seek where they are the second to be the first, and where the third to be the second, and so forth.

It is said I am no divine.® Indeed, I studied nothing else but divinity till I came to the crown, and then I gave myself to the study of that which was meet’ for government, and am not ignorant of stories wherein appeareth what hath fallen out for' ambition of kingdoms, as in Spain, Naples, Portingal,* and at home. And what cocking? hath been between the father and the son for the same! You would have a limitation of succession. Truly if reason did not subdue will in me, I would cause you to deal in it, so pleasant a thing it should be unto me. But I stay* it for your benefit; for if you should have liberty to treat of it, there be so many competitors—some kinsfolk, some servants, and some tenants; some would speak for their master, and

some for their mistress, and every man for his friend—that it would be an occasion of a greater charge than a subsidy.’ And if my will did not yield to reason, it should be that thing I would gladly desire, to see you deal in it. Well, there hath been error—I say not errors, for there were too many in the proceeding in this matter. But we will not judge that these attempts were done of any hatred to our person, but even for lack of good foresight. I do not marvel though Domini Doctores® with you, my lords, did so use themselves therein, since after my brother's’ death they openly preached and set forth that my sister and I were bastards.* Well, I wish not the death of any man, but only this I desire: that they which have been the practitioners herein may before their deaths repent the same and show some open confession of their faults, whereby the scabbed’ sheep may be known from the whole. As for my own part, I care not for death, for all men are mortal; and though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage answerable to my place as ever my father had. I am your anointed queen. I will never be by violence constrained to do anything. I thank God I am indeed endued with such qualities that if Iwere turned out of the realm in my petticoat, I were able to live in any place of Christendom.

1566

1949

4. A metaphorical extension of the preceding clause: in the game of bowls, the ball has a flat

2. Portugal. 3. Cockfighting: strife, contention.

place: rolled unskillfully, it wobbles, bounces, and

4. Stop.

prematurely stops; rolled well (“all on the one side”), it runs smoothly. 5. Security.

6. More. 7. I.e., such virtuous potential successors. 8. Theologian. 9. Relevant to. Elizabeth’s claim that before ascending the throne she studied nothing but theology is an exaggeration, but it is true that she had devoted much effort to the subject, as evidenced by her translations of several religious works. 1. Happened as a result of.

5. l.e., it would cost more than a tax. Subsidies were tax levies granted to the sovereign to meet special expenses.

6. The Doctors of the Lord: her derisive Latin term for the bishops who had supported the petition in the House of Lords. 7. Edward VI’s.

8. Presumably in support of the claim of Lady Jane Grey to the throne (see p- 199).

9. Infected with scab known as scabies).

(the

skin

disease

also

ELPZAB

ED

i

TOP

MARY @ OWEEN

#@ Ee S'eOmns

|

229

From A Letter to Mary, Queen of Scots, February 24, 1567! Madame: My ears have been so deafened and my understanding so grieved and my heart so affrighted to hear the dreadful news of the abominable murder of your mad husband and my killed cousin? that I scarcely yet have the wits to write about it. And inasmuch as my nature compels me to take his death in the extreme, he being so close in blood, so it is that I will boldly tell you what I think of it. |cannot dissemble that I am more sorrowful for you than for him.

O madame,

I would not do the office of faithful cousin or affec-

tionate friend if I studied rather to please your ears than employed myself in preserving your honor. However, | will not at all dissemble what most people are talking about: which is that you will look through your fingers at? the revenging of this deed, and that you do not take measures that touch those who have done as you wished, as if the thing had been entrusted in a way that the murderers felt assurance in doing it. Among the thoughts in my heart I beseech you to want no such thought to stick at this point. Through all the dealings of the world I never was in such miserable haste to lodge and have in my heart such a miserable opinion of any prince as this would cause me do. Much less will I have such of her to whom I wish as much good as my heart is able to imagine or as you were able a short while ago to wish. However, I exhort you, I counsel you, and I beseech you to take this thing so much to heart that you will not fear to touch even him whom you have nearest to you if the thing touches him, and that no persuasion will prevent you from making an example out of this to the world: that you are both a noble princess and a loyal wife. I do not write so vehemently out of doubt that I have, but out of the affection that I bear you in particular. For I am not ignorant that you have no wiser counselors than myself. Thus it is that, when I remember that our Lord had one Judas out of twelve, and I assure myself that there could be no one more loyal than myself, I offer you my affection in place of this prudence.

1567

1. Written after murder of Henry gant and erratic had ill-advisedly 2. Darnley, like

1900

news reached Elizabeth of the Stuart, Lord Darnley, the arroScottish nobleman whom Mary married in 1565. Mary, was Elizabeth’s second

cousin and a potential claimant to the throne of

England. 3. Wink at.

4. Because Mary and Darnley had been estranged, there were immediately rumors that she had been complicit in his murder. 5. Evidently an allusion to James Hepburn, earl of Bothwell, whom Mary married (under muchdisputed circumstances) three months after Darn-

ley’s death, although Bothwell was known to have been one of the chief conspirators in the murder.

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The doubt of future foes’ The doubt? of future foes exiles my present joy,

fear

And wit® me warns to shun such snares as threatens mine

intelligence

annoy.” For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects’ faith doth ebb,? Which should not be, if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web. uw

10

But clouds of toys° untried do cloak aspiring minds, Which turns to rain of late repent, by course of changéd winds.* The top of hope supposed, the root of rue® shall be, And fruitless all their grafted guile,’ as shortly you shall see. Their dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds, Shall be unsealed® by worthy wights° whose foresight opened

tricks

regret

/ men

falsehood finds.

The daughter of debate,° that discord aye° doth sow, continually Shall reap no gain where former rule’ still? peace hath taught stable to grow.

No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port: Our realm brooks no seditious sects—let them elsewhere resort. ya

My rusty sword through rest® shall first his edge employ To poll their tops’ who seek such change or gape for future joy. Vivat Regina' 1589

Carslioval

On Monsieur’s Departure! I grieve and dare not show my discontent, I love and yet am forced to seem to hate, I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, wi

I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.° I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned, Since from myself another self Iturned.

chatter

My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it, Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.” 1. The poem concerns Mary, Queen of Scots, who in 1568 sought refuge in England from her rebellious subjects. 2. Le., threaten to do me harm (“annoy”).

3. Le., the tide of faith (loyalty) is ebbing, yielding to the rising tide of falsehood. 4. Clouds of tricks not yet tested or detected hide the “aspiring minds” of ambitious foes, but those clouds will turn at last into rains of repentance.

5. The deception (“guile”) grafted into them will not bear fruit. 6. Strife. Mary Stuart also was sometimes called “Mother of Debate,” because she was constantly

the focus of conspiracies and plots. 7. Either the reign of Henry VIII or that of Edward VI, which established the Reformation in England. 8. Sword rusty from disuse. 9. Strike off their heads. 1. Long live the queen (Latin). I. The heading, present in a 17th-century manu-

script, identifies the occasion of this poem as the breaking off of marriage negotiations between Elizabeth

and

the

French

1582.

2. Does everything I do.

duke

of Anjou,

in

ELUZABET

10

HW: DETTER

TOMROBERT

DUDDEY

His too familiar care* doth make me rue? it. No means | find to rid him from my breast, Till by the end of things it be suppressed.

|

P28)

regret

Some gentler passion slide into my mind, For I am soft and made of melting snow; is

Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.

Let me or® float or sink, be high or low.

either

Or let me live with some more sweet content,

Or die and so forget what love e’er° meant. CasoSZ,

ever 1823

A Letter to Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester,

February 10, 1586! How contemptuously we conceive ourselves to have been used by you, you shall by this bearer? understand: whom we have expressly sent unto you to charge you withal. We could never have imagined (had we not seen it fall out? in experience) that a man raised up by ourself and extraordinarily favored by us, above any other subject of this land, would have in so contemptible a sort broken our commandment in a cause that so greatly toucheth us in honor. Whereof although you have showed yourself to make but little account in so most undutiful a sort, you may not therefore think that we have so little care of the reparation thereof as we mind to pass so great a wrong in silence unredressed. And therefore our express pleasure and commandment is that, all delays and excuses laid apart, you do presently upon the duty of your allegiance obey and fulfill whatsoever the bearer hereof shall direct you to do in our name.* Whereof fail you not, as you will answer the contrary at your uttermost peril. 1935

1586

3. I.e., my own care, which he caused. 1. Leicester (ca. 1532—1588) had been the queen's

self the sovereignty of the United Provinces (which she declined) the preceding summer. 2. Sir Thomas Heneage, one of Elizabeth’s most trusted courtiers.

greatest favorite from the beginning of her reign and was for a time her suitor and possibly lover. Sent to the Netherlands to assist the revolt of the Dutch Protestants against Spanish rule, however, he incurred her rage by accepting, without her

4. Heneage was instructed to direct Leicester to resign the governorship immediately. Though it

permission,

was several months before Leicester did so, Eliz-

the offer of the Dutch to make him

their absolute governor. They had been without a leader since the assassination of William of Orange, in 1584, and had offered Elizabeth her-

3. Happen.

abeth was by April already addressing him fondly again.

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A Letter to Sir Amyas Paulet, August 1586! Amyas, my most careful and faithful servant, God reward thee treblefold in the double for thy most troublesome charge? so well discharged. If you knew, my Amyas, how kindly, besides dutifully, my careful? heart accepts your double labors and faithful actions, your wise orders and safe regards performed in so dangerous and crafty? a charge, it would ease your troubles’ travail and rejoice your heart. In which I charge you to carry this most nighest thought: that I cannot balance in any weight of my judgment the value that I prize you at. And suppose no treasure to countervail? such a faith, and condemn me in that behalf which I never committed if Ireward not such deserts. Yea, let me lack when I have most need if I

acknowledge not such a merit with a reward non omnibus datum.° But let your wicked mistress know how, with hearty sorrow, her vile deserts

compels these orders; and bid her, from me, ask God forgiveness for her treacherous dealing towards the saver of her life many years, to the intolerable peril of her own.’ And yet not content with so many forgivenesses, must fall again so horribly, far passing a woman’s thought, much more a princess’, instead of excusing, whereof not one can serve, it being so plainly confessed by the actors® of my guiltless death. Let repentance take place; and let not the fiend possess her so as her best part be lost, which I pray with hands lifted up to Him that may both save and spill,’ with my loving adieu and prayer for thy long life. Your most assured and loving sovereign in heart, by good desert induced, Elizabeth Regina. 1586

1854

A Letter to King James VI of Scotland, February 14, 1587 My dear brother,! I would you knew though not felt the extreme dolor that overwhelms my mind for that miserable accident,* which far contrary to my meaning hath

befallen.

I have now sent this kinsman

1. Paulet was the keeper of Mary, Queen of Scots. In 1586 a number of her supporters, led by Anthony Babington, plotted to murder Elizabeth and place Mary on the throne. The plot was discovered, and the plotters were executed in September. Mary, who had been complicit with them, was placed under stricter confinement, and then tried for treason. Elizabeth’s letter to Paulet circulated widely in manuscript:

to her contemporaries,

it was

evidently the single best-known of the queen’s letters. . Duty, responsibility. . Full of care. . Requiring skill. bd BW WI . To be equal in value to. 6. Not given to all (Latin).

of mine,? whom

ere now

it hath

. Le., Elizabeth’s own life. . Le., the conspirators. . Destroy. . Fellow ruler. OONXn Nr . Le.,

the execution, six days before, of James's mother, Mary, Queen of Scots. In the aftermath

of the Babington plot, Elizabeth decided to have Mary tried and convicted of treason—legally an outrageous charge, since she was not a subject of England. Mary was sentenced to death, and Elizabeth, after much vacillation, signed the warrant for her execution. Once the sentence had been

carried out, however, the queen went to great lengths to exculpate herself, even in her own mind, from responsibility for her cousin’s death.

3. Sir Robert Carey, related to Elizabeth on her mother’s side.

ELIZABETH

I:

VERSE

EXCHANGE

WITH

RALEGH

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pleased you to favor, to instruct you truly of that which is too irksome for my pen to tell you. | beseech you that—as God and many more know—how innocent I am in this case, so you will believe me that if | had bid aught I would have bid by it.* | am not so base minded that fear of any living creature or prince should make me afraid to do that? were just or, done, to deny the same. I am not of so base a lineage nor carry so vile a mind; but as not to disguise fits most a king, so will I never dissemble my actions but cause them show even as I meant them. Thus assuring yourself of me that, as I know this was deserved, yet if | had meant it I would never lay it on others’ shoulders, no more will | not damnify® myself that thought it not. The circumstance it may please you to have of this bearer. And for your part, think you have not in the world a more loving kinswoman nor a more dear friend than myself, nor any that will watch more carefully to preserve you and your estate.’ And who shall otherwise persuade you, judge them more partial to others than you. And thus in haste, I leave to trouble you, beseeching God to send you a long reign. The 14 of February, 1587. Your most assured, loving sister and cousin, Elizabeth R.

1587

1834

Verse Exchange between Elizabeth and Sir Walter Ralegh! [RALEGH TO ELIZABETH] Fortune hath taken away my love,

My life’s joy and my soul’s heaven above. Fortune hath taken thee away, my princess, My world’s joy and my true fantasy’s mistress. vi

Fortune hath taken thee away from me; Fortune hath taken all by taking thee. Dead to all joys, I only live to woe: So is Fortune become my fantasy’s foe. In vain, my eyes, in vain ye waste your tears;

10

is

In vain, my sights,° the smoke of my despairs, In vain you search the earth and heaven above. In vain you search, for Fortune keeps my love.

Then will I leave my love in Fortune’s hand; Then will I leave my love in worldlings’ band,° And only love the sorrows due to me— Sorrow, henceforth, that shall my princess be—

4. Le., if |had commanded her death, I would have abided by my decision. “Bid” is a form of the past participle of both bid and bide.) 5. Le., the thing that. 6. Wrong. 7. Position.

sighs (?)

bond

1. This exchange, which exemplifies the poetic banter that sometimes passed between the queen and her favorites, took place about 1587, when Ralegh believed that the rapid rise of the earl of Essex in Elizabeth’s favor entailed a diminution of his own standing with her.

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And only joy that Fortune conquers kings. Fortune, that rules the earth and earthly things, Hath taken my love in spite of virtue’s might: So blind a goddess did never virtue right.

With wisdom’s eyes had but blind Fortune seen, Then had my love, my love forever been. But love, farewell—though Fortune conquer thee, No fortune base nor frail shall alter me. [ELIZABETH TO RALEGH|

Ah, silly Pug,” wert thou so sore afraid? Mourn not, my Wat,’ nor be thou so dismayed.

It passeth fickle Fortune’s power and skill To force my heart to think thee any ill. vi

10

is

20 ca.

No Fortune base, thou sayest, shall alter thee?

And may so blind a witch so conquer me? No, no, my Pug, though Fortune were not blind, Assure thyself she could not rule my mind. Fortune, I know, sometimes doth conquer kings, And rules and reigns on earth and earthly things, But never think Fortune can bear the sway If virtue watch, and will her not obey. Ne® chose I thee by fickle Fortune’s rede,° Ne she shall force me alter with such speed But if* to try this mistress’ jest with thee.° Pull up thy heart, suppress thy brackish tears, Torment thee not, but put away thy fears. Dead to all joys and living unto woe, Slain quite by her that ne’er gave wise men blow, Revive again and live without all dread, The less afraid, the better thou shalt speed.°

1587

nor / decision

succeed

ca. 1600?

Speech to the Troops at Tilbury! My loving people, I have been persuaded by some that are careful of? my safety, to take heed how I committed myself to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery. But I tell you that I would not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear! I have so behaved myself that,

2. An endearment, which Elizabeth used as her pet name for Ralegh. 3. Short for Walter. 4, Unless I do it.

5. Since “thee” has nothing to rhyme with, and since

the line is hard

to construe,

it seems

likely that there is a line missing before or after this one.

1. Delivered by Elizabeth on August 9, 1588, to

the land forces assembled at Tilbury (in Essex) to repel the anticipated invasion of the Spanish Armada, a fleet of warships sent by Philip I. The Armada was defeated at sea and never reached England, a miraculous deliverance and sign of God's special favor to Elizabeth and to England, in the general view. 2. Anxious about.

ERIZAB

Eh

hs

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under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and goodwill of my subjects. Wherefore I am come among you at this time but for my recreation and pleasure, being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live and die amongst you all,} to lay down for my God and for my kingdom and for my people mine honor and my blood even in the dust. I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too*—and take foul scorn that Parma? or any prince of Europe should dare to invade the shall or grow by borders of my realm. To the which, rather than anydishon my royal blood; I myself will be your general, me, I myself will venter® judge, and rewarder of your virtue in the field. I know that already for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns,’ and I assure you in the word of a prince you shall not fail of them. In the meantime, my lieutenant general* shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your concord in the camp and valor in the field, and your obedience to myself and my general, we shall shortly have a famous victory over these enemies of my God and of my kingdom. 1588

1654

The “Golden Speech” A speech to Elizabeth’s last Parliament, delivered November 30, 1601, and here given as recorded by one of the members. The designation “Golden Speech” stems from the headnote to a version of the speech printed near the end of the Puritan interregnum (1659?): “This speech ought to be set in letters of gold, that as well the majesty, prudence, and virtue of this royal queen might in general most exquisitely appear, as also that her religious love and tender respect which she particularly and constantly did bear to her Parliament in unfeigned sincerity might (to the shame and perpetual disgrace and infamy of some of her successors) be nobly and truly vindicated.” The royal prerogatives included the right to grant or sell “letters patent,” which gave the recipient monopoly control of some branch of commerce. (Sir Walter Ralegh, for example, was given the exclusive right, for a period of thirty years, to license all taverns.) Discontent with the monopolies—which had resulted in higher prices for a wide

range

of commodities,

including

such basic ones

as salt and

starch—came to a head in the Parliament of 1601. Under parliamentary pressure (and in return for a subsidy granted to her treasury), Elizabeth agreed to revoke some of the most obnoxious patents and to allow the courts to rule freely on charges brought against the holders of others. She invited members of Parliament who wished to offer thanks for this largesse to come to her in a body, and on November 30 received about 150 of them at Whitehall Palace. After effusive remarks by the

3. In another version of the speech (based, like this one, on an auditor's memory), the sentence

up to this point reads: “And therefore I am come amongst

you, as you see at this time, not for my

recreation and disport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you all.” 4. An allusion to the concept of the king’s (or

struct. “Stomach”: valor. 5. Alessandro Farnese, duke

of Parma,

allied

with the king of Spain and expected to join with him in the invasion of England. 6. Venture, risk.

queen's) two bodies, the one natural and mortal,

7. The crown was an English coin. “Forwardness’: eagerness. 8. The earl of Leicester led the English troops. Elizabeth’s great and powerful favorite, he died

the other an ideal and enduring political con-

just a month later.

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speaker of the House of Commons (Sir John Croke), the queen responded more or less as recorded here. (Elizabeth revised the speech for publication; and none of the surviving versions of it—which differ considerably—was printed earlier than about 1628.)

The “Golden Speech”! Mr. Speaker, we have heard your declaration and perceive your care of our estate,” by falling into the consideration of a grateful acknowledgment of such benefits as you have received; and that your coming is to present thanks unto us, which I accept with no less joy than your loves can have desire to offer such a present. I do assure you that there is no prince that loveth his subjects better, or whose love can countervail® our loves. There is no jewel, be it of never so rich a price, which I set before this jewel—I mean your loves. For | do more esteem it than any treasure or riches: for that we know how to prize, but love and thanks I count unvaluable.* And though God hath raised me high, yet this I count the glory of my crown, that I have reigned with your loves. This makes me that I do not so much rejoice that God hath made me to be a queen, as to be a queen over so thankful a people. Therefore I have cause to wish nothing more than to content the subjects, and that is a duty which I owe. Neither do I desire to live longer days than that I may see your prosperity, and that is my only desire. And as I am that person that still,’ yet under God, hath delivered you, so I trust, by the almighty power of God, that I shall be His instrument to preserve you from envy, peril, dishonor, shame, tyranny, and oppression, partly by means of your intended helps, which we take very acceptable because it manifesteth the largeness of your loves and loyalties unto your sovereign.

Of myself I must say this: I never was any greedy, scraping grasper, nor a strait, fast-holding prince, nor yet a waster. My heart was never set on worldly goods, but only for my subjects’ good. What you bestow on me, I will not hoard it up, but receive it to bestow on you again. Yea, my own properties I account yours to be expended for your good, and your eyes shall see the bestowing of all for your good. Therefore render unto them from me, I beseech you, Mr. Speaker, such thanks as you imagine my heart yieldeth but my tongue cannot

express. Mr. Speaker, I would wish you and the rest to stand up, for I shall yet trouble you with longer speech.°® Mr. Speaker, you give me thanks, but I doubt’ me that I have more cause to thank you all than you me; and I charge you to thank them of the Lower House® from me. For had I not received a knowledge from you, I might have fallen into the lapse of an error only for lack of true information. 1. We print only the words of the queen, omitting various interpolations as well as the opening remarks by the speaker of the Parliament. 2. Rank, position.

4. Invaluable. 5. Continually. 6. Up to this point, the assemblage kneeling.

3. Match.

7. Fear.

had been

BEVZABET

halts hey

AGO

DEN! Therewith she gan her passion to renew, And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,° Saying, that harlot she too lately knew, That causd her shed so many a bitter teare, And so forth told the story of her feare: Much seeméd he to mone her haplesse chaunce, And after for that Ladie did inquere; Which being taught, he forward gan advaunce His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charméd launce.

9. Corceca. (Abessa cannot speak.)

1. Anything. Le., if she could tell anything about such a lady.

hair

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Ere long he came, where Una traveild slow,

And that wilde Champion wayting® her besyde: Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turnéd wyde Unto an hill; from whence when she him spyde, By his like seeming shield, her knight by name She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde: Approching nigh, she wist® it was the same,

attending

believed

And with faire fearefull humblesse® towards him shee came.

humility

27

And weeping said, “Ah my long lackéd Lord, Where have ye bene thus long out of my sight? Much feared I to have bene quite abhord, Or ought° have done, that ye displeasen might, That should as death unto my deare hart light:? For since mine eye your joyous sight did mis, My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night, And eke my night of death the shadow is; But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.”

aught

28

He thereto meeting? said, “My dearest Dame,

Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will, To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame, As you to leave, that have me loved still,

And chose in Faery court of meere® goodwill, Where noblest knights were to be found on earth: The earth shall sooner leave her kindly° skill

pure

natural

To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,°

desert

Then I leave you, my liefe,°? yborne of heavenly berth.

beloved

ay)

“And sooth to say, why I left you so long, Was for to seeke adventure in strange place, Where Archimago said a felon strong To many knights did daily worke disgrace; But knight he now shall never more deface:° Good cause of mine excuse; that mote® ye please Well to accept, and evermore embrace My faithfull service, that by land and seas Have vowd you to defend, now then your plaint appease.”

2. l.e., be as a deathblow to my loving heart. (“Deare” can also mean heavy or sore.) 3. Answering in like manner.

discredit may

O°

cease

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30 His lovely° words her seemd due recompence Of all her passéd paines: one loving howre For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:°

loving make amends

A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre: She has forgot, how many a wofull stowre® For him she late endured; she speakes no more Of past: true is, that true love hath no powre To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before. Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore.

trouble

31 Much like, as when the beaten marinere,

That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide, Oft soust° in swelling Tethys?* saltish teare, And long time having tand his tawney hide

soaked

With blustring breath of heaven, that none can bide,

And scorching flames of fierce Orions hound,’ Soone as the port from farre he has espide, His chearefull whistle merrily doth sound,

And Nereus crownes with cups;° his mates him pledg® around.

toast

32 Such joy made Una, when her knight she found;

And eke th’enchaunter joyous seemd no lesse, Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse, He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse: So forth they past, and all the way they spent Discoursing of her dreadfull late distresse, In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment: Who told her all that fell in journey as she went.’

33 They had not ridden farre, when they might see One pricking® towards them with hastie heat, Full strongly armd, and on a courser free,° That through his fiercenesse foméd all with sweat, And the sharpe yron? did for anger eat, When his hot ryder spurd his chaufféd? side;

spurring eager to charge

bit chafed; heated

His looke was sterne, and seeméd still to threat

Cruell revenge, which he in hart did hyde, And on his shield Sans loy in bloudie lines was dyde.

4. The wife of Ocean; here, the ocean itself, 5. Sirius, the dog star, symbolizing hot weather (the dog days). 6. Nereus, a benevolent sea god, to whom the

mariner in gratitude makes libations. 7. I.e., she told all that had befallen her on her journey.

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When nigh he drew unto this gentle payre And saw the Red-crosse, which the knight did beare, He burnt in fire, and gan eftsoones® prepare immediately Himselfe to battell with his couchéd?® speare. leveled Loth was that other, and did faint® through feare, lose heart To taste th’'untryed dint® of deadly steele; blow But yet his Lady did so well him cheare, That hope of new good hap® he gan to feele; fortune So bent® his speare, and spurnd® his horse with yron heele. lowered 35

But that proud Paynim® forward came so fierce, And full of wrath, that with his sharp-head speare Through vainely crosséd shield? he quite did pierce, And had his staggering steede not shrunke for feare, Through shield and bodie eke he should him beare:° Yet so great was the puissance? of his push, That from his saddle quite he did him beare: He tombling rudely° downe to ground did rush, And from his goréd wound a well of bloud did gush.

pagan

thrust force violently

36

Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed, He to him lept, in mind to reave? his life, And proudly said, “Lo there the worthie meed°®

take recompense

Of him, that slew Sansfoy with bloudie knife;

Henceforth his ghost freed from repining strife, In peace may passen over Lethe! lake, When mourning altars purgd° with enemies life, cleansed The blacke infernall Furies? doen aslake:° appease Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from thee take.” 37

Therewith in haste his helmet gan unlace, Till Una cride, “O hold that heavie hand,

Deare Sir, what ever that thou be in place:° whoever you are Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand: For he is one the truest knight alive,* Though conquered now he lie on lowly land,° __i.e., low on the ground And whilest him fortune favourd, faire did thrive In bloudie field: therefore of life him not deprive.”

8. Spurred. 9. The cross on Archimago’s shield was false and did not give him the protection the Redcrosse knight received in his fight with Sansfoy (see canto 2, stanza 18). 1. The river of forgetfulness in Hades (but Styx,

the river at hell’s entrance,

would seem

more

appropriate here; see canto 5, stanza 10).

2. Spirits of discord and revenge. 3. Le., do not withhold mercy, for he is the one truest knight.

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38

Her piteous words might® not abate his rage, But rudely rending up his helmet, would Have slaine him straight: but when he sees his age, And hoarie head of Archimago old,

could

His hastie hand he doth amazéd hold, And halfe ashaméd, wondred at the sight: For the old man well knew he, though untold,*

In charmes and magicke to have wondrous might, Ne ever wont? in field, ne in round lists” to fight.

accustomed

oo

And said, “Why Archimago, lucklesse syre, What doe I see? what hard mishap is this, That hath thee hither brought to taste mine yre? Or thine the fault, or mine the error is,

In stead of foe to wound my friend amis?” He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay,

And on those ecilemalh dazeéd eyes of his The cloud of death did sit. Which doen away,”

— when the swoon passed

He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay.

40 But to the virgin comes, who all this while Amaséd stands, her selfe so mockt° to see By him, who has the guerdon? of his guile, For so misfeigning her true knight to bee: Yet is she now in more perplexitie,°

deceived reward trouble

Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold, From whom her booteth not? at all to flie;

is of no use

Who by her cleanly° garment catching hold, Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold.

pure

41 But her fierce servant full of kingly awe® And high disdaine,? whenas his soveraine Dame So rudely handled by her foe he sawe, With gaping jawes full greedy at him came, And ramping?® on his shield, did weene® the same Have reft away with his sharpe rending clawes:

AWeSOMECTLESS

indignation

rearing / intend

But he was stout, and lust did now inflame

His corage more, that from his griping pawes He hath his shield redeemed,° and foorth his swerd he drawes.

4. Le.,

without needing to be told.

recovered

5. Enclosures for fighting tournaments.

GES

EAERIEVOUBENE,

BOO

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42 O then too weake and feeble was the forse Of salvage beast, his puissance to withstand: For he was strong, and of so mightie corse,° As ever wielded speare in warlike hand, And feates of armes did wisely® understand. Eftsoones he percéd through his chauféd® chest With thrilling® point of deadly yron brand,° And launcht® lh Lordly hart: with death opprest

body skillfully angr) penetrating / blade pierced

He roared aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne brest.

45

Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid From raging spoile® of lawlesse victors will? Her faithfull gard removed, her hope dismaid, Her selfe a yeelded pray to save or spill.° He now Lord of the field, his pride to fill, With foule reproches, and disdainfull spight Her vildly° entertaines, and will or nill, Beares her away upon his courser light:° Her prayers nought prevaile; his rage is more of might.

plunder destroy

basely

44 And all the way, with great lamenting paine, And piteous plaints she filleth his dull° eares, That stony hart could riven have in twaine, And all the way she wets with flowing teares: But he enraged with rancor, nothing heares. Her servile beast° yet would not leave her so, But followes her farre off, ne ought® he feares, To be partaker of her wandring woe, More mild in beastly kind,° then that her beastly foe.

deaf

the palfre) aught; anything

nature

Canto 4

To sinfull house of Pride, Duessa guides the faithfull knight, Where brothers death to wreak® Sansjoy doth chalenge him to fight. I

Young knight, what ever that dost armes professe,

And through long labours huntest after fame, Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse,

In choice, and change of thy deare loved Dame,

6. Quickly. Le., he treats her basely and quickly bears her away, willing or not, on his horse.

avenge

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Least thou of her beleeve too lightly blame,’ misjudgment And rash misweening® doe thy hart remove: For unto knight there is no greater shame, Then lightnesse and inconstancie in love; That doth this Redcrosse knights ensample® plainly prove. —_example

2 Who after that he had faire Una lorne,°

forsaken

Through light misdeeming?® of her loialtie, And

false

Duessa

in her sted had borne,’

misjudging taken as companion

Called Fidess’, and so supposd to bee; Long with her traveild, till at last they see A goodly building, bravely garnishéd,° The house of mightie Prince it seemd to bee: And towards it a broad high way’ that led, All bare through peoples feet, which thither traveiléd.

3 Great troupes of people traveild thitherward Both day and night, of each degree and place,° But few returned, having scapéd hard,°

With balefull® beggerie, or foule disgrace,

adorned

rank with difficulty

wretched

Which ever after in most wretched case,

Like loathsome lazars,° by the hedges lay. Thither Duessa bad him bend his pace:° For she is wearie of the toilesome way, And also nigh consuméd is the lingring day.

lepers direct his steps

4

A stately Pallace built of squaréd bricke, Which cunningly was without morter laid, Whose wals were high, but nothing strong, nor thick,

And golden That purest High lifted And goodly

foile® all over them displaid, skye with brightnesse they dismaid:°

up were many loftie towres, galleries farre over laid,°

thin layer of gold outdid

placed above

Full of faire windowes, and delightfull bowres;

And on the top a Diall told the timely howres.?

It was And But Did For

5 a goodly heape?® for to behould, spake the praises of the workmans wit;° full great pittie, that so faire a mould® on so weake foundation ever sit: on a sandie hill,! that still did flit,°

7. Lest you too readily believe accusations about her. 8. “Broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction” (Matthew 7.13).

building skill structure

shift

9. A sundial measured the hours of the day, 1. Matthew 7.26—27: “A foolish man . . . built his house upon the sand: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and

IE

FAERIE

QUEENE,

BOOK,

CGANTO)

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And fall away, it mounted was full hie,

That every breath of heaven shakéd it: And all the hinder parts, that few could spie,

Were ruinous and old, but painted cunningly. 6

Arrived there they passéd in forth right; For still° to all the gates stood open wide, Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight° Cald Malveni,” who entrance none denide: Thence to the hall, which was on every side With rich array and costly arras dight:? Infinite sorts of people did abide There waiting long, to win the wished sight Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace bright.

always committed

7 By them they passe, all gazing on them round, And to the Presence* mount; whose glorious vew Their frayle amazéd senses did confound: In living Princes court none ever knew Such endlesse richesse, and so sumptuous shew;° show Ne? Persia selfe, the nourse® of pompous pride — nor / breeding ground Like ever saw. And there a noble crew Of Lordes and Ladies stood on every side, Which with their presence faire, the place much beautifide. 8 High above all a cloth of State°® was spred, And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day, On which there sate most brave embellished® With royall robes and gorgeous array,

canopy handsomely clad

A mayden Queene, that shone as Titans? ray,

the sun’s

In glistring gold, and peerelesse pretious stone: Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay°

attempt

To dim the brightnesse of her glorious throne,

As envying her selfe, that too exceeding shone. 9 Exceeding shone, like Phoebus fairest childe, That did presume? his fathers firie wayne,° And flaming mouthes of steedes unwonted?® wilde Through highest heaven with weaker® hand to rayne; Proud of such glory and advancement vaine, While flashing beames do daze his feeble eyen,°

beat upon

that house; and it fell: and great was

the fall of it.” 2. Unwelcome. In courtly love allegories, the porter is often called Bienvenu or Bel-accueil

usurp / chariot unusually too weak

eyes

(Welcome).

3. Decorated with costly wall hangings. 4, Presence chamber, where a sovereign receives

guests,

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He leaves the welkin® way most beaten plaine, And rapt® with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen, With fire not made to burne, but fairely for to shyne.’

heavenly

carried away

IO

So proud she shynéd in her Princely state, Looking to heaven; for earth she did disdayne, And sitting high; for lowly° she did hate: Lo underneath her scornefull feete, was layne A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous trayne,° And in her hand she held a mirrhour bright,° Wherein her face she often vewed fayne,°

lowliness tail

with pleasure

And in her selfe-loved semblance tooke delight; For she was wondrous faire, as any living wight. II

Of griesly° Pluto she the daughter was, And sad Proserpina the Queene of hell; Yet did she thinke her pearelesse worth to pas® That parentage, with pride so did she swell,

horrid SUrpass

And thundring Jove, that high in heaven doth dwell,

And wield? the world, Or if that any else did For to the highest she Or if ought® higher were

she clayméd for her syre, Jove excell: did still aspyre, then that, did it desyre.

govern

anything

12

And proud Lucifera men did her call, That made her selfe a Queene, and crownd to be,

Yet rightfull kingdome she had none at all, Ne heritage of native soveraintie, But did usurpe with wrong and tyrannie Upon the scepter, which she now did hold: Ne ruld her Realmes with lawes, but pollicie,° political cunning And strong advizement of six wisards old, That with their counsels bad her kingdome did uphold.

13) Soone as the Elfin knight in presence came, And false Duessa seeming Lady faire, A gentle Husher,° Vanitie by name Made rowme, and passage for them did prepaire: So goodly° brought them to the lowest staire Of her high throne, where they on humble knee Making obeyssance,° did the cause declare,

5. Phaéthon tried to drive the chariot of his father, Phoebus, the sun god, but set the skies on fire and fell.

usher graciously submission

6. Pride and figures associated with her in Renaissance literature and art often hold a mirror, emblematic of self-love.

IWESFAERIE

QUEENIE,

BOOK

Ih

CANTO:

Why they were come, her royall state to see, To prove® the wide report of her great Majestee.

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verify

14 With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so low,

She thanked them in her disdainefull wise,° Ne other grace vouchsaféd them to show Of Princesse worthy, scarse them bad? arise. Her Lordes and Ladies all this while devise® Themselves to setten forth to straungers sight: Some frounce® their curléd haire in courtly guise, Some prancke® their ruffes, and others trimly dight° Their gay attire: each others greater pride does spight.’

manner

bade

make ready frizzle pleat / arrange

15 Goodly they all that knight do entertaine, Right glad with him to have increast their crew: But to Duess’ each one himselfe did paine All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew;

For in that court whylome® her well they knew: Yet the stout Faerie mongst the middest°® crowd Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew, And that great Princesse too exceeding prowd, That to strange® knight no better countenance? allowd.

formerly thickest

stranger /favor

16

Suddein upriseth from her stately place The royall Dame, and for her coche doth call: All hurtlen® forth and she with Princely pace, As faire Aurora in her purple pall,* Out of the East the dawning day doth call: So forth she comes: her brightnesse brode® doth blaze; The heapes of people thronging in the hall, Do ride® each other, upon her to gaze: Her glorious glitterand® light doth all mens eyes amaze.

rush

abroad

climb up on glittering

17

So forth she comes, and to her coche does clyme,

Adornéd all with gold, and girlonds gay, That seemd as fresh as Flora® in her prime,

the goddess of flowers

And strove to match, in royall rich array, Great Junos golden chaire,° the which they say The Gods stand gazing on, when she does ride To Joves high house through heavens bras-pavéd way

chariot

Drawne of faire Pecocks, that excell in pride,

And full of Argus eyes their tailes dispredden wide.’ 7. Each despises the others’ greater pride. 8. Goddess of dawn, in her crimson robe (“purple pall”).

9. Peacocks, with their tails outspread (“dispredden wide”), are a symbol of pride. The hundredeyed monster Argus was set by Juno to watch Io,

EDMUND

SPENSER

18

But this was drawne of six unequall beasts, On which her six sage Counsellours did ryde, Taught to obay their bestiall beheasts,° With like conditions to their kinds applyde:' Of which the first, that all the rest did guyde, Was sluggish Idlenesse the nourse of sin; Upon a slouthfull Asse he chose to ryde,

bidding

Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin,”

Like to an holy Monck, the service to begin. 19 And in his hand his Portesse® still he bare, That much was worne, but therein little red, For of devotion he had little care,

breviary, prayer book

Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his dayes ded; Scarse could he once uphold his heavie hed, To looken, whether it were night or day: May seeme the wayne® was very evill led, When such an one had guiding of the way, That knew not, whether right he went, or else astray.

chariot

20

From worldly cares himselfe he did esloyne,° And greatly shunnéd manly exercise, From every worke he chalengéd essoyne,° For contemplation sake: yet otherwise, His life he led in lawlesse riotise;°

By which he grew to grievous malady; For in his lustlesse°® limbs through evill guise® A shaking fever raignd continually: Such one was Idlenesse, first of this company.

withdraw claimed exemption riotous conduct

feeble / living

21

And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony, Deforméd creature, on a filthie swyne,

His belly was up-blowne with luxury,° And eke® with fatnesse swollen were his eyne,° And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne,’ With which he swallowd up excessive feast, For want whereof poore people oft did pyne;?

one of Jupiter’s loves. When Mercury killed Argus, his eyes were put in the peacock’s tail feathers. 1. Le., each bestial rider gave commands to his beast appropriate to its particular nature: the beasts and riders are suited to each other. This procession of the Seven Deadly Sins—of which Pride is queen—had a long tradition in medieval art and literature (see also Marlowe, Dr. Faustus,

indulgence also / eyes

Starve

scene 5, lines 272—328).

2. Idleness wears the gown (“habit”) and hood or amice (“amis”) of a monk. Traditionally, Idle-

ness led the procession of the deadly sins. 3. Thin. The crane is a common symbol of gluttony because its long, thin neck allows extended pleasure in swallowing.

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And all the way, most like a brutish beast, He spuéd up his gorge,’ that® all did him deteast.

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so that

22

In greene vine leaves he was right fitly clad; For other clothes he could not weare for heat,

And on his head an yvie girland had,° From under which fast trickled downe the sweat: Still as he rode, he somewhat’ still did eat,

And in his hand did beare a bouzing® can, Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat His dronken corse® he scarse upholden can, In shape and life more like a monster, then® a man.

something drinking body than

ts)

Unfit he was for any worldly thing, And eke unhable once’ to stirre or go,° Not meet® to be of counsell to a king,

at all / walk

fit

Whose mind in meat and drinke was drownéd so,

That from his friend he seldome knew his fo: Full of diseases was his carcas blew,

And a dry dropsie through his flesh did flow, Which by misdiet daily greater grew: Such one was Gluttony, the second of that crew.

24 And next® to him rode lustfull Lechery, Upon a bearded Goat,° whose rugged? haire, And whally° eyes (the signe of gelosy,’) Was like the person selfe, whom he did beare: Who rough, and blacke, and filthy did appeare, Unseemely man to please faire Ladies eye;

just after shaggy

glaring / jealousy

Yet he of Ladies oft was lovéd deare,

When fairer faces were bid standen by:° O who does know the bent of womens fantasy?°

away caprice, whim

25

In a greene gowne he clothéd was full faire, Which underneath did hide his filthinesse,

And in his hand a burning hart he bare, Full of vaine follies, and new fangleness:° For he was false, and fraught with ficklenesse, And learnéd had to love with secret lookes, And well could daunce, and sing with ruefulnesse,°

fickleness

pathos

And fortunes tell, and read in loving bookes,’ And thousand other wayes, to bait his fleshly hookes. 4. Vomited up what he had swallowed. 5. He resembles the drunken satyr Silenus, foster father of Bacchus, god of wine. Ivy is sacred to Bacchus.

6. Traditional symbol of lust. 7. Either manuals on the art of love (e.g., Ovid's Ars Amatoria) or more ordinary erotica.

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26

Inconstant man, that loved all he saw, And lusted after all, that he did love, Ne would his looser? life be tide to law,

lustful

But joyd weake wemens hearts to tempt and prove® If from their loyall loves he might them move; Which lewdnesse fild him with reprochfull paine Of that fowle evill, which all men reprove,°

try

i.e., syphilis

That rots the marrow, and consumes the braine: Such one was Lecherie, the third of all this traine.

a7 And greedy Avarice by him did ride,

Upon a Camell loaden all with gold;* Two iron coffers hong on either side, With precious mettall full, as they might hold, And in his lap an heape of coine he told;° For of his wicked pelfe® his God he made,

counted money

And unto hell him selfe for money sold; Accurséd usurie was all his trade,

And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.’ 28

His life was nigh unto deaths doore yplast,' And thread-bare cote, and cobled® shoes he ware,

roughly mended

Ne scarse good morsell all his life did tast, But both from backe and belly still did spare, To fill his bags, and richesse to compare;° Yet chylde ne°® kinsman living had he none To leave them to; but thorough® daily care To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne,

acquire

nor through

He led a wretched life unto him selfe unknowne.

NY

Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suffise, Whose greedy lust® did lacke in greatest store,°

desire / plenty

Whose need had end, but no end covetise,

Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him pore, Who had enough, yet wished ever more; A vile disease, and eke in foote and hand

A grievous gout tormented him full sore, That well he could not touch, nor go,° nor stand:

walk

Such one was Avarice, the fourth of this faire band.

8. The camel as a symbol of avarice is based on Matthew 19.24: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”

9. l.e., he made no distinction between right and wrong. 1. Avarice was proverbially associated with old age.

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30 And next to him malicious Envie rode, Upon a ravenous wolfe, and still® did chaw Betweene his cankred® teeth a venemous tode, That all the poison ran about his chaw;° But inwardly he chawéd his owne maw° At neighbours wealth, that made him ever sad; For death it was, when any good he saw, And wept, that cause of weeping none he had, But when he heard of harme, he wexéd° wondrous glad.

continually

infected jaw entrails

waxed, grew

31 All in a kirtle of discolourd say? He clothéd was, ypainted full of eyes; And in his bosome secretly there lay An hatefull Snake,’ the which his taile uptyes In many folds, and mortall sting implyes.° Still as he rode, he gnasht his teeth, to see Those heapes of gold with griple Covetyse,° And grudgéd at the great felicitie Of proud Lucifera, and his owne companie.

enfolds

grasping Avarice

32

He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds, And him no lesse, that any like did use,°

perform

And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds, His almes for want of faith he doth accuse;*

So every good to bad he doth abuse:° And eke the verse of famous Poets witt He does backebite, and spightfull poison spues From leprous mouth on all, that ever writt:

twist

Such one vile Envie was, that fifte in row did sitt.

33

And him beside rides fierce revenging Wrath, Upon a Lion, loth for to be led; And in his hand a burning brond® he hath, The which he brandisheth about his hed;

sword

His eyes did hurle forth sparkles fiery red, And staréd sterne on all, that him beheld, As ashes pale of hew and seeming ded;

And on his dagger still° his hand he held, Trembling through hasty rage, when choler® in him sweld.

2. Robe or gown of many-colored cloth. 3. Traditional attribute of envy. 4. Envy perversely discounts others’ good works

always anger

by attributing them to a selfish motive: the desire to compensate (in God’s eyes) for lack of faith.

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34 His ruffin® raiment all was staind with blood,

disorderly

Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent,° Through unadviséd rashnesse woxen wood,°

torn

grown insane

control For of his hands he had no governement,” minded / vengeance Ne cared for® bloud in his avengement:° But when the furious fit was overpast, actions His cruell facts° he often would repent, Yet wilfull man he never would forecast, How many mischieves should ensue his heedlesse hast.”

35

Full many mischiefes follow cruell Wrath; Abhorréd bloudshed, and tumultuous strife, Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath,° Bitter despight,° with rancours rusty knife, And fretting griefe the enemy of life; All these, and many evils moe® haunt ire,°

malice

more / anger

The swelling Splene,’ and Frenzy raging rife, The shaking Palsey, and Saint Fraunces fire:® Such one was Wrath, the last of this ungoldly tire.°

train

36

And after all, upon the wagon beame Rode Sathan,° with a smarting whip in hand,

Satan

With which he forward lasht the laesie teme,

So oft as Slowth® still in the mire did stand. Huge routs® of people did about them band, Showting forjoy, and still before their way A foggy mist had covered all the land; And underneath their feet, all scattered lay Dead sculs and bones of men, whose life had gone astray.

Idleness crowds

oY

So forth they marchen in this goodly sort,° To take the solace® of the open aire, And in fresh flowring fields themselves to sport;

company

pleasure

Emongst the rest rode that false Lady faire, The fowle Duessa, next unto the chaire

Of proud Lucifera, as one of the traine: But that good knight would not so nigh repaire,° Him selfe estraunging from their joyaunce® vaine, Whose fellowship seemd far unfit for warlike swaine.°

5. Le., he never would foresee (“forecast”) the calamities his careless haste caused. 6. Le., inhuman murder and destructive harm.

7. In Renaissance

physiology,

the spleen was

approach festivity young

man

regarded as the seat of ill-humor. 8. Presumably Saint Anthony’s fire: erysipelas, or the flaming itch; appropriate to Wrath.

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38

So having solacéd themselves a space With pleasaunce of the breathing?® fields yfed, They backe returnéd to the Princely Place; Whereas an errant knight in armes ycled,°

emitting fragrance clad

And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red Was writ Sans joy, they new arrived find:

Enflamed with fury and fiers hardy-hed,° He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts unkind, And nourish bloudy vengeaunce in his bitter mind.

hardihood

39

Who when the shaméd shield? of slaine Sans foy He spied with that same Faery champions page,° Bewraying® him, that did of late destroy His eldest brother, burning all with rage He to him leapt, and that same envious gage® Of victors glory from him snatcht away:

i.e., the dwarf revealing

envied prize

But th’Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,!

Disdaind to loose the meed® he wonne in fray,° And him rencountring® fierce, reskewd the noble pray.

reward / battle encountering

40

Therewith they gan to hurtlen® greedily, Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne,° And clash their shields, and shake their swords on hy, That with their sturre® they troubled all the traine; Till that great Queene upon eternall paine Of high displeasure, that ensewen® might, Commaunded them their fury to refraine, And if that either to that shield had right, In equall lists? they should the morrow next it fight.

rush together contest

tumult

ensue

41 pagan “Ah dearest Dame,” quoth then the Paynim? bold, creature; man “Pardon the errour of enraged wight,° Whom great griefe made forget the raines to hold cowardly Of reasons rule, to see this recreant° knight, traitor / disdain No knight, but treachour® full of false despight® And shamefull treason, who through guile® hath slayn deceit The prowest® knight, that ever field did fight, bravest

Even stout Sans foy (O who can then refrayn?)

Whose shield he beares renverst, the more to heape disdayn.

9. Carrying a shield upside down, with the heraldic arms reversed, was a great insult (see stanza 41, line 9).

1. The knight (Redcrosse) who owned that spoil of war (“warlike wage’). 2. L.e., in impartial formal combat.

(“ought”)

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42 “And to augment the glorie of his guile, His° dearest love the faire Fidessa loe

i.e., Sansfoy's

Is there possesséd of? the traytour vile, Who reapes the harvest sowen by his foe,

Sowen in bloudy field, and bought with woe: That? brothers hand shall dearely well requight

that act

So be, O Queene, you equall favour showe.”*

Him litle answerd th’angry Elfin knight: He never meant with words, but swords to plead his right. 43

But threw his gauntlet His cause in combat So been they parted To be avenged each That night they pas

as a sacred pledge, the next day to try: both, with harts on edge, on his enimy. in joy and jollity,

Feasting and courting both in bowre and hall;? For Steward was excessive Gluttonie,

That of his plenty pouréd forth to all; Which doen,° the Chamberlain® Slowth did to rest them call.

done

44 Now whenas darkesome night had all displayd Her coleblacke curtein over brightest skye,

The warlike youthes on dayntie° couches layd, Did chace away sweet sleepe from sluggish eye, To muse on meanes of hopéd victory. But whenas Morpheus’ had with leaden mace Arrested all that courtly company, Up-rose Duessa from her resting place, And to the Paynims lodging comes with silent pace. 45 Whom broad awake she finds, in troublous fit,°

Forecasting, how his foe he might annoy,° And him amoves?® with speaches seeming fit: “Ah deare Sans joy, next dearest to Sans foy, Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new joy,

troubled mood injure arouses

Joyous, to see his ymage in mine eye,

And greeved, to thinke how foe did him destroy, That was the flowre of grace and chevalrye; Lo his Fidessa to thy secret faith I flye.”

3. Possessed by(i.e., sexually). 4. Le., if, O Queen, you show (“equall favour”). 5. Le.,

feasting

in

hall,

courting

(inner apartments, bedrooms).

impartiality in

bowers

6. The court attendant in charge of the bedchambers. 7. Here, the god of sleep (cf. canto 1, stanza 36, n. 2).

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46

With gentle wordes he can? her fairely° greet, And bad say on the secret of her hart. Then sighing soft, “I learne that litle sweet Oft tempred is,” quoth she, “with muchell® smart:

For since my brest was launcht with lovely dart® Of deare Sansfoy, I never joyéd howre,° But in eternall woes my weaker® hart Have wasted, loving him with all my powre, And for his sake have felt full many an heavie stowre.°

did / courteously much

for an hour too weak

grief

47 “At last when perils all I weenéd past,

And hoped to reape the crop of all my care, Into new woes unweeting® I was cast,

By this false faytor,° who unworthy ware® His worthy shield, whom he with guilefull snare Entrappéd slew, and brought to shamefull grave. Me silly° maid away with him he bare, And ever since hath kept in darksome cave, For that I would not yeeld, that® to Sans foy I gave.

unknowing

imposter / wore

helpless what

48

“But since faire Sunne hath sperst° that lowring clowd, dispersed And to my loathéd life now shewes some light, Under your beames I will me safely shrowd,° take shelter From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight: To you th’inheritance belongs by right Of brothers prayse, to you eke longs? his love. belongs Let not his love, let not his restlesse spright° ghost Be unrevenged, that calles to you above From wandring Stygian’ shores, where it doth endlesse move.” 49

Thereto said he, “Faire Dame be nought dismaid For sorrowes past; their griefe is with them gone: Ne yet of present perill be affraid; For needlesse feare did never vantage® none, And helplesse hap it booteth not to mone.! Dead is Sans-foy, his vitall° paines are past, Though greevéd ghost for vengeance deepe do grone: He lives, that shall him pay his dewties? last,

aid living rites

And guiltie Elfin bloud shall sacrifice in hast.”

8. l.e., since my breast was pierced with the arrow oflove. 9. I.e., from wandering on the banks of the river

Styx, in Hades. 1. I.e., it does not help to moan over that which is beyond help (“helplesse hap”).

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50

“O but I feare the fickle freakes,”° quoth shee,

unpredictable tricks

“Of fortune false, and oddes of armes? in field.” “Why dame,” quoth he, “what oddes can ever bee,

Where both do fight alike, to win or yield?” “Yea but,” quoth she, “he beares a charméd shield,

And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce, Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield.” “Charmd or enchaunted,” answerd he then ferce,°

“T no whit reck,* ne you the like need to reherce.°

fiercely recount

51 since

“But faire Fidessa, sithens® fortunes guile, Or enimies powre hath now captived you,

Returne from whence ye came, and rest a while Till morrow next, that I the Elfe subdew,

And with Sans-foyes dead dowry you endew.”* “Ay me, that is a double death,” she said,

“With proud foes sight my sorrow to renew: Where ever yet I be, my secrete aid Shall follow you.” So passing forth she him obaid. Canto 5

The faithfull knight in equall field subdewes his faithlesse foe, Whom false Duessa saves, and for his cure to hell does goe. I

The noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought, And is with child of® glorious great intent,

pregnant with

Can never rest, untill it forth have brought

Th’eternall brood of glorie excellent:° Such restlesse passion did all night torment The flaming corage® of that Faery knight, Devizing, how that doughtie° turnament With greatest honour he atchieven might; Still did he wake, and still did watch for dawning light.

heart; mind worthy

2

At last the golden Orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open faire, And Phoebus? fresh, as bridegrome to his mate, 2. Advantage of superior arms.

mere

3. Ido not care at all. 4. I.e., endow you with the legacy of the dead Sansfoy. 5. That good must be manifested in action, not in

monplace. 6. Le., the sun. Cf. Psalms 19,.4—5: “In them hath he set a Tabernacle for the sun, Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber.”

intent, is an important

Renaissance

com-

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Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire:

And hurld his glistring beames through gloomy aire. Which when the wakeful Elfe perceived, streight way He started up, and did him selfe prepaire, In sun-bright armes, and battailous® array: For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.

warlike

3 And forth he comes into the commune

hall,

Where earely waite him many a gazing eye, To weet® what end to straunger knights may fall.° There many Minstrales maken melody, To drive away the dull melancholy, And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord Can tune their timely° voyces cunningly, And many Chroniclers, that can record Old loves, and warres for ladies doen® by many a Lord.’

learn / befall

measured done

4 Soone after comes the cruell Sarazin,° In woven maile all arméd warily, And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin Does care for looke of living creatures eye. They bring them wines of Greece and Araby, And daintie spices fetcht from furthest Ynd,° To kindle heat of courage privily:° And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd Tobserve the sacred lawes of armes, that are assynd.

Saracen

India

within

>

At last forth comes that far renowméd Queene, With royall pomp and Princely majestie; She is ybrought unto a paled?® greene, And placéd under stately canapee,° The warlike feates of both those knights to see. On th’other side in all mens open vew

fenced canopy

Duessa placéd is, and on a tree

Sans-foy his shield is hangd with bloudy hew: Both those the lawrell girlonds® to the victor dew. 6

A shrilling trompet sownded from on hye, And unto battaill bad° them selves addresse:

Their shining shieldes about their wrestes° they tye, And burning blades about their heads do blesse,° The instruments of wrath and heavinesse:°

bade wrists

brandish rage

7. Minstrels play the music on their instruments,

8. Laurel wreaths were awarded to the victor of

bards sing the words, chroniclers—historians, epic poets—write of love and war.

a joust.

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With greedy force each other doth assayle, And strike so fiercely, that they do impresse Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle; The yron walles to ward their blowes are weake and fraile.? 7 The Sarazin was stout,° and wondrous strong,

And heapéd blowes like yron hammers great: For after bloud and vengeance he did long. The knight was fiers,°? and full of youthly heat:

bold

high-spirited

And doubled strokes, like dreaded thunders threat:

For all for prayse and honour he did fight. Both stricken strike, and beaten both do beat,

That from their shields forth flyeth firie light, And helmets hewen deepe, shew marks of eithers might. 8

So th’one for wrong, the other strives for right: As when a Gryfon! seized? of his pray, A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight, Through widest ayre making his ydle° way, That would his rightfull ravine® rend away: With hideous horrour both together smight, And souce’® so sore, that they the heavens affray:° The wise Southsayer® seeing so sad sight, Th’amazéd vulgar tels of warres and mortall fight.

im possession casual

plunder strike / startle

soothsayer

9

So th’one for wrong, the other strives for right, And each to deadly shame would drive his foe: The cruell steele so greedily doth bight In tender flesh, that streames of bloud down flow, With which the armes, that earst° so bright did show,

Into a pure vermillion now are dyde: Great ruth® in all the gazers harts did grow, Seeing the goréd woundes to gape so wyde, That victory they dare not wish to either side.

at first

pity

ife)

At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye, His suddein® eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre, Upon his brothers shield, which hong thereby: Therewith redoubled was his raging yre,° And said, “Ah wretched sonne of wofull syre, Doest thou sit wayling by black Stygian lake® Whilest here thy shield is hanged for victors hyre,°

9. L.e., their armor is too frail to withstand such blows.

1. A legendary monster, half-eagle, half-lion.

darting

anger

the river Styx reward

THE

FAERVE,

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BOOM

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GANMONS

And sluggish german? doest thy forces slake,° To after-send his foe, that him may overtake?

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slacken

iat

“Goe caytive® Elfe, him quickly overtake, And soone redeeme from his long wandring woe; Goe guiltie ghost, to him my message make, That I his shield have quit® from dying foe.” Therewith upon his crest he stroke him so,

servile rescued

That twise he reeléd, readie twise to fall:

End of the doubtfull battell deeméd tho® The lookers on,* and lowd to him gan call

then

The false Duessa, “Thine the shield, and I, and all.” 12

Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake, Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake, And quickning? faith, that earst was woxen® weake,

_life-restoring / grown

The creeping deadly cold away did shake: Tho moved with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,°

Of all attonce he cast® avengd to bee, And with so’exceeding furie at him strake, That forcéd him to stoupe upon his knee; Had he not stoupéd so, he should have cloven bee.

regard

determined

13 And to him said, “Goe now proud Miscreant,°

Thy selfe thy message doe® to german deare, Alone he wandring thee too long doth want: Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare.” Therewith his heavie hand he high gan reare,

misbeliever

give

Him to have slaine; when loe a darkesome clowd

Upon him fell: he no where doth appeare, But vanisht is. The Elfe him cals alowd, But answer none receives: the darknes him does shrowd.*

14 In haste Duessa from her place arose, And to him running said, “O prowest° knight,

bravest

That ever Ladie to her love did chose,

Let now abate the terror of your might, And quench the flame of furious despight,° And bloudie vengeance; lo th’infernall powres Covering your foe with cloud of deadly night,

2. Kinsman; here, brother. 3. Le., the onlookers then thought this would end the battle, heretofore in doubt. 4. The device of a god rescuing a hero in dan-

anger

ger by hiding him in a cloud has parallels in Iliad 3.380, Aeneid 5.810—12, and Gerusalemme liberata 7.44—45.

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i.e., Hades

Have borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres.°

The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, and glory yours.” »

Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye He sought all round about, his thirstie blade To bath in bloud of faithlesse enemy; Who all that while lay hid in secret shade: He standes amazéd, how he thence should fade. At last the trumpets Triumph sound on hie, And running Heralds humble homage made,

Greeting him goodly® with new victorie, And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie.

respectfully

16

Wherewith he goeth to that soveraine Queene,

And falling her before on lowly knee, To her makes present of his service seene;° Which she accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,° Greatly advauncing® his gay chevalree. So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight, Whom all the people follow with great glee, Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,° That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heaven bright.

proved favor extolling aloud

.Y)

Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed: Where many skilfull leaches® him abide,° To salve® his hurts, that yet still freshly bled.

doctors / attend anoint

In wine and oyle they wash his woundeés wide,

And softly can embalme?® on every side. And all the while, most heavenly melody

carefully did anoint

About the bed sweet musicke did divide,°

Him to beguile of° griefe and agony: And all the while Duessa wept full bitterly.

descanted

divert from

18

As when a wearie traveller that strayes By muddy shore of broad seven-mouthéd Nile,

Unweeting?® of the perillous wandring wayes,

unaware

Doth meet a cruell craftie Crocodile,

Which in false griefe hyding his harmefull guile, Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender teares:’

The foolish man, that pitties all this while His mournefull plight, is swallowed up unwares,° Forgetfull of his owne, that mindes anothers cares.

5. Medieval bestiaries popularized the legend of the hypocritical crocodile’s tears.

unexpectedly

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19

So wept Duessa untill eventide, That shyning lampes in Joves high house were light:° Then forth she rose, ne lenger® would abide, But comes unto the place, where th’Hethen knight In slombring swownd nigh voyd of vitall spright,’ Lay covered with inchaunted cloud all day: Whom when she found, as she him left in plight,® To wayle his woefull case she would not stay, But to the easterne coast of heaven makes speedy way.

longer

20

Where griesly° Night, with visage deadly sad,

grim, horrible

That Phoebus chearefull face durst never vew,

And in a foule blacke pitchie mantle clad, She findes forth comming from her darkesome mew,? Where she all day did hide her hated hew.° Before the dore her yron charet® stood, Alreadie harnesséd for journey new; And cole blacke steedes yborne of hellish brood, That on their rustie bits did champ, as°® they were wood.°

den shape; color chariot

as if /mad

21

Who when she saw Duessa sunny bright, Adorned with gold and jewels shining cleare,° She greatly grew amazed at the sight, And th’unacquainted? light began to feare: For never did such brightnesse there appeare, And would have backe retyred to her cave,

brightly unfamiliar

Untill the witches speech she gan to heare,

Saying, “Yet O thou dreaded Dame, | crave Abide,’ till I have told the message, which I have.”

stay

22

She stayd, and foorth Duessa gan proceede, “O thou most auncient Grandmother of all,’

More old then Jove, whom thou at first didst breede, Or that great house of Gods caelestiall, Which wast begot in Daemogorgons hall, And

sawst the secrets of the world unmade,’

before it was made

Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes? deare to fall With Elfin sword, most shamefully betrade? Lo where the stout Sansjoy doth sleepe in deadly shade.

grandsons

6. L.e., when (“that”) the stars came out. th. Nearly (“nigh”) devoid of life. 8 . Le., in the same desperate state in which she

9. By tradition, Night was eldest of the gods, existing before the world was formed and the Olympian gods were begotten in the hall of Demogorgon

had left him.

(Chaos).

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5) “And him before, I saw with bitter eyes The bold Sansfoy shrinke underneath his speare;

And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes, Nor wayld of friends, nor laid on groning beare,' That whylome® was to me too dearely deare. O what of Gods then boots it® to be borne, If old Aveugles sonnes so evill heare?? Or who shall not great Nightés children scorne, When two of three her Nephews are so fowle forlorne?°

formerly is it worth

wretchedly lost

24 “Up then, up dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene, Go gather up the reliques® of thy race,

remnants

Or else goe them avenge, and let be seene,

That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place, And can the children of faire light deface.”° Her feeling speeches some compassion moved

destroy

In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:

Yet pittie in her hart was never proved® Till then: for evermore she hated, never loved.

known

25

And said, “Deare daughter rightly may I rew The fall of famous children borne of mee, And good successes, which their foes ensew:°

But who can turne the streame of destinee, Or breake the chayne of strong necessitee, Which fast is tyde to Joves eternall seat>? The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see, And by my ruines thinkes to make them great: To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat.°

attend

exchange

26

“Yet shall they not escape so freely all; For some shall pay the price of others guilt: And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall, Shall with his owne bloud price® that he hath spilt. But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?”

pay for

“I that do seeme not I, Duessa am,” Quoth she, “how ever now in garments gilt,

And gorgeous gold arayd I to thee came: Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.”

l. 3ier attended by mourners (thus “groning’). 2 . Le., are so badly thought of. Aveugle (Blind) is the son of Night and father of Sansfoy, Sansjoy, and Sansloy.

3. The golden chain that binds the entire universe. The image goes back as far as Homer (Iliad 8.18—27).

THE

VENERGIE

TO UBENED

(BOOKeT

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FiO)

27

Then bowing downe her agéd backe, she kist The wicked witch, saying; “In that faire face The false resemblance of Deceipt, I wist®

Did closely® lurke; yet so true-seeming grace

knew

secretly

It carried, that I scarse in darkesome place

Could it discerne, though I the mother bee Of falshood, and root of Duessaes race. O welcome child, whom

I have longd to see,

And now have seene unwares.° Lo now I go with thee.”

unexpectedly

28

Then to her yron wagon she betakes, And with her beares the fowle welfavourd witch:

Through mirkesome® aire her readie way she makes. Her twyfold Teme,* of which two blacke as pitch, And two were browne, yet each to each unlich,°

murky; dense unlike

Did softly swim away, ne ever stampe,

Unlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch; Then foming tarre,° their bridles they would champe, black froth And trampling the fine element,? would fiercely rampe.° _ the air /rear up 29)

So well they sped, that they be come at length Unto the place, whereas the Paynim lay, Devoid of outward sense, and native strength, Coverd with charmed cloud from vew of day, And sight of men, since his late® luckelesse fray. His cruell wounds with cruddy° bloud congealed, They binden up so wisely,° as they may, And handle softly, till they can be healed: So lay him in her charet, close in night concealed.

recent clotted skillfully

30 And all the while she stood upon the ground,

The wakefull dogs did never cease to bay, As giving warning of th’'unwonted?® sound, With which her yron wheeles did them affray, And her darke griesly° looke them much dismay; The messenger of death, the ghastly Owle With drearie shriekes did also her bewray;? And hungry Wolves continually did howle,

unusual horrid reveal

At her abhorréd face, so filthy and so fowle. 31 Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole,

And brought the heavie corse® with easie pace 4. Twofold team of horses.

body

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To yawning gulfe of deepe Avernus hole.’ By that same hole an entrance darke and bace With smoake and sulphure hiding all the place, Descends to hell: there creature never past,

That backe returnéd without heavenly grace; But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines have brast,°

And damnéd sprights sent forth to make ill? men aghast.

burst

evil

32 By that same way the direfull dames doe drive Their mournefull charet, fild° with rusty blood,

And downe to Plutoes house are come bilive:° Which passing through, on every side them stood The trembling ghosts with sad amazéd mood, Chattring their yron teeth, and staring wide With stonie eyes; and all the hellish brood Of feends infernall flockt on every side, To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durst ride.

defiled quickly; alive

33

They pas the bitter waves of Acheron, Where many soules sit wailing woefully, And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton,° Whereas the damnéd ghosts in torments fry, And with sharpe shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse® cry, Cursing high Jove, the which them thither sent. The house of endlesse paine is built thereby, In which ten thousand sorts of punishment The curséd creatures doe eternally torment.

without avail

34

Before the threshold dreadfull Cerberus’ His three deforméd heads did lay along,°

at full length

Curléd with thousand adders venemous,

And lilléd° forth his bloudie flaming tong: At them he gan to reare his bristles strong, And felly gnarre,° untill dayes enemy Did him appease; then downe his taile he hong And suffered them to passen quietly: For she in hell and heaven had power equally.

lolled

savagely snarl

35 There was Ixion turnéd on a wheele,

For daring tempt the Queene of heaven to sin, And Sisyphus an huge round stone did reele® Against an hill, ne® might from labour lin;°

roll

nor / cease

5. In classical mythology Avernus is hell, where

7. The three-headed dog that guards hell. Stan-

Pluto (stanza 32) reigns.

zas 31-35 recall Aeneas’s descent into hell (Virgil, Aeneid 6.200, 239-40).

6. Acheron and Phlegeton are rivers in hell.

RES

ENERIEO

UREN Es BiO@Oikeals

CANMOSS

|

There thirstie Tantalus hong by the chin; And Tityus fed a vulture on his maw;° Typhoeus joynts were stretchéd on a gin,° Theseus condemned to endlesse slouth® by law, And fifty sisters water in leake vessels draw.®

311

liver

rack sloth

36

They all beholding worldly° wights in place,° Leave off their worke, unmindfull of their smart

To gaze on them; who forth by them doe pace, Till they be come unto the furthest part: Where was a Cave ywrought by wondrous art, Deepe, darke, uneasie,° dolefull, comfortlesse, In which sad Aesculapius? farre a part Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse,° For that Hippolytus rent corse® he did redresse.°

mortal / there e

Hippolytus ajolly? huntsman was, That wont? in charet chace the foming Bore; He all his Peeres in beautie did surpas, But Ladies love as losse of time forbore: His wanton stepdame? lovéd him the more, But when she saw her offred sweets refused

pain

lacking ease

god of medicine beyond any remedy body / cure

gallant used to

Her love she turnd to hate, and him before His father fierce of treason false accused,

And with her gealous® termes his open eares abused.

arousing jealousy

Who all in rage his Sea-god syre° besought, Poseidon (Neptune) Some curséd vengeance on his sonne to cast: From surging gulf two monsters straight° were brought, immediately With dread whereof his chasing steedes aghast, Both charet swift and huntsman overcast. His goodly corps on ragged cliffs yrent,° torn Was quite dismembred, and his members chast Scattered

on

every mountaine,

as he went,

That of Hippolytus was left no moniment.!

His cruell stepdame seeing what was donne, Her wicked dayes with wretched knife did end, In death avowing th’innocence of her sonne. 8. Ixion was being punished for attempting to seduce Juno; Sisyphus, for refusing to pray to the gods; Tantalus, for stealing the gods’ nectar, Tityus, for his attempted assault on Apollo’s mother, Leto; the monster Typhoeus, for creating destructive winds; Theseus, for stealing Persephone from Hades; and the fifty daughters of

King Danaus, for having killed their husbands on their wedding night. Tantalus stood chin-deep in water that receded whenever he tried to drink— hence he is “thirstie.” Ovid, Virgil, and Homer are

Spenser's sources here. 9. Phaedra, the wife of his father, Theseus.

1. Le., no trace of identity.

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Which hearing his rash Syre, began to rend His haire, and hastie tongue, that did offend: Tho® gathering up the relicks of his smart? By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend, Them brought to Aesculape, that by his art Did heale them all againe, and joynéd every part.

then

40 Such wondrous science in mans wit to raine When Jove avizd,° that could the dead revive,

discovered

And fates expiréd* could renew againe, Of endlesse life he might him not deprive, But unto hell did thrust him downe alive,

With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore: Where long remaining, he did alwaies strive Himselfe with salves to health for to restore,

And slake the heavenly fire, that raged evermore.

41 There auncient Night arriving, did alight From her nigh wearie waine,* and in her armes To Aesculapius brought the wounded knight: Whom having softly disarayd of armes, Tho gan to him discover? all his harmes,

reveal

Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise, If either salves, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes

A fordonne® wight from dore of death mote raise, He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.

undone

42 “Ah Dame,” quoth he, “thou temptest me in vaine, To dare the thing, which daily yet I rew, And the old cause of my continued paine With like attempt to like end to renew. Is not enough, that thrust from heaven dew?

Here endlesse penance for one fault I pay, But that redoubled crime with vengeance new Thou biddest me to eeke?? Can Night defray® increase / appease The wrath of thundring Jove, that rules both night and day?” 42

“Not so,” quoth she; “but sith® that heavens king From hope of heaven hath thee excluded quight, Why fearest thou, that canst not hope for thing,°

since

anything

And fearest not, that more thee hurten might, Now in the powre of everlasting Night? 2. L.e., his son’s remains, which caused his grief. 3. The completed term of life as fixed by the Fates.

4. Le., the horses of Night’s chariot (“waine”) are nearly exhausted, 5. The proper (“dew”) place for a god.

THE

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Goe to then, O thou farre renowmeéd sonne

Of great Apollo, shew thy famous might In medicine, that else° hath to thee wonne Great paines, and greater praise, both never to be donne.”?

already ended

44 Her words prevaild: And then the learnéd leach® His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay, And all things else, the which his art did teach: Which having seene, from thence arose away The mother of dread darknesse, and let stay Aveugles sonne there in the leaches cure,° And backe returning tooke her wonted?® way, To runne her timely race,° whilst Phoebus pure In westerne waves his wearie wagon did recure.°

doctor

care accustomed _her nightly journey refresh

45

The false Duessa leaving noyous® Night, harmful Returnd to stately pallace of dame Pride; Where when she came, she found the Faery knight Departed thence, albe° his woundés wide although Not throughly heald, unreadie were to ride. Good cause he had to hasten thence away; For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spide, Where in a dongeon deepe huge numbers lay Of caytive® wretched thrals,° that wayléd night and day. captive / slaves 46 A ruefull sight, as could be seene with eie;

Of whom he learnéd had in secret wise The hidden cause of their captivitie, How mortgaging their lives to Covetise,

Through wastfull° Pride, and wanton Riotise, They were by law of that proud Tyrannesse®

causing desolation

Provokt with Wrath, and Envies false surmise,

Condemnéd to that Dongeon mercilesse, Where they should live in woe, and die in wretchednesse. 47

There was that great proud king of Babylon’ That would compell all nations to adore, And him as onely God to call upon, Till through celestiall doome® throwne out of dore, Into an Oxe he was transformed of yore: There also was king Croesus,* that enhaunst® His heart too high through his great riches store; 6. Lucifera. The noble sinners named in stanzas 47-50 exemplify a theme common in Renaissance morality, the fall of princes.

judgment

7. Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel 3—4). 8. King of Lydia, famous for his riches.

exalted

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And proud Antiochus,’ the which advaunst His curséd hand gainst God, and on his altars daunst.°

And them long time before, great Nimrod was, That first the world with sword and fire warrayd;° And after him old Ninus! farre did pas® In princely pompe, of? all the world obayd; There also was that mightie Monarch layd Low under all, yet above all in pride, That name of native® syre did fowle upbrayd, And would as Ammons sonne be magnifide,

danced

ravaged Surpass

by

natural

Till scornd of God and man a shamefull death he dide.?

All these together in one heape were throwne, Like carkases of beasts in butchers stall. And in another corner wide® were strowne

lying apart

The antique ruines of the Romaines fall: Great Romulus the Grandsyre of them all, Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus, Stout Scipio, and stubborne Hanniball, Ambitious Sylla, and sterne Marius,

High Caesar, great Pompey, and fierce Antonius.’

Amongst these mighty men were wemen mixt, Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke:°

duty

The bold Semiramis,° whose sides transfixt With sonnes owne blade, her fowle reproches spoke; Faire Sthenoboea,* that her selfe did choke

With wilfull cord, for wanting? of her will;

wife of Ninus

lacking

High minded Cleopatra, that with stroke

Of Aspes sting her selfe did stoutly® kill: And thousands moe the like, that did that dongeon fill.

bravely

Besides the endlesse routs°® of wretched thralles,

crowds

Which thither were assembled day by day, From all the world after their wofull falles,

9. King of Syria, who desecrated the Jewish temple of Jerusalem (1 Maccabees 1.20—24). 1. In classical mythology, Ninus was founder of Nineveh, archetype of the wicked city (see the Book of Jonah). Nimrod, identified as the first tyrant, caused the Tower of Babel to be built in defiance of God (Genesis 10.9—10, 11.1—9),

of Jupiter Ammon. 3. Romulus was the founder of Rome; Tarquin, a

2. The reference is to Alexander the Great, whose

line are Julius Caesar,

“shamefull death” came ten days after he fell ill at a drinking party. The son of Philip Il of Macedon, Alexander was occasionally worshiped as the son

Mark Antony. 4, Queen of King Proteus of Argos; she lusted after her brother-in-law Bellerophon.

Roman tyrant; Lentulus, a conspirator with Catiline to overthrow the Republic; Scipio, a Roman general, conqueror of Carthage; Hannibal, a Carthaginian general; Sulla, a Roman civil war general; Marius, Sulla’s rival. The figures in the final Pompey

the Great,

and

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Through wicked pride, and wasted wealthes decay. But most of all, which in that Dongeon lay Fell from high Princes courts, or Ladies bowres,

Where they in idle pompe, or wanton play, Consuméd had their goods, and thriftlesse howres, And lastly throwne themselves into these heavy stowres.°

disasters

52

Whose case wheneas the carefull? Dwarfe had tould, wary And made ensample of their mournefull sight Unto his maister, he no lenger would There dwell in perill of like painefull plight, But early rose, and ere that dawning light Discovered had the world to heaven wyde, He by a privie Posterne® tooke his flight, secret back door That of no envious eyes he mote be spyde: For doubtlesse death ensewd, if any him descryde.° — descried, observed 53

Scarse could he footing find in that fowle way, For many corses, like a great Lay-stall® burial place; rubbish heap Of murdred men which therein strowéd lay, Without remorse, or decent funerall: Which all through that great Princesse pride did fall And came to shamefull end. And them beside Forth ryding underneath the castell wall, A donghill of dead carkases he spide, The dreadfull spectacle of that sad house of Pride.® Canto 6

From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace fayre Una is releast: Whom salvage® nation does adore, and learnes her wise beheast.°

wild; of the woods bidding

I As when a ship, that flyes faire under saile, An hidden rocke escapéd hath unwares,° That lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile,® The Marriner yet halfe amazéd stares At perill past, and yet in doubt ne dares To joy at his foole-happie oversight:° So doubly is distrest twixt joy and cares The dreadlesse® courage of this Elfin knight, Having escapt so sad ensamples in his sight.

unexpectedly

lucky ignorance fearless

5. Named in the argument of canto 4, but in the

6. L.e., cause the shipwreck and thereby cause it

poem itself, only now, after we have been shown what the name means.

to be bewailed.

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EDMUND

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2

Yet sad he was that his too hastie speed The faire Duess’ had forst him leave behind;

And yet more sad, that Una his deare dreed® Her truth had staind with treason so unkind;? Yet crime in her could never creature find, But for his love, and for her owne selfe sake, She wandred had from one to other Ynd,’ Him for to seeke, ne ever would forsake, Till her unwares the fierce Sansloy did overtake.

object of reverence unnatural

)

Who after Archimagoes fowle defeat, Led her away into a forrest wilde, And turning wrathfull fire to lustfull heat, With beastly sin thought her to have defilde, And made the vassall of his pleasures vilde.° Yet first he cast by treatie,° and by traynes,° Her to perswade, that stubborne fort to yilde: For greater conquest of hard love he gaynes, That workes it to his will, then® he that it constraines.°

vile

persuasion / tricks

than /forces

4

With fawning wordes he courted her a while, And looking lovely,°? and oft sighing sore, Her constant hart did tempt with diverse guile:

lovingly

But wordes, and lookes, and sighes she did abhore,

As rocke of Diamond stedfast evermore.* Yet for to feed his fyrie lustfull eye, He snatcht the vele, that hong her face before; Then gan her beautie shine, as brightest skye, And burnt his beastly hart t’efforce® her chastitye.

violate

:)

So when he saw his flatt’ring arts to fayle, And subtile engines bet from batteree,’ With greedy force he gan the fort assayle, Whereof he weend? possesséd soone to bee,

thought

And win rich spoile of ransackt chastetee. Ah heavens, that do this hideous act behold, And heavenly virgin thus outragéd see, How can ye vengeance just so long withhold, And hurle not flashing flames upon that Paynim bold?

7. l.e., she would have wandered from the East to the West Indies. 8. The diamond, because of its hardness, was an

emblem of fidelity. 9. I.e., beaten (“bet”) from t heir fruitless assault (“batteree”) on her unmovable virtue.

WIRVE

WHMERSNE

CONUIEES Wa, BONO

ly

GAWSING!

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6

The pitteous maiden carefull? comfortlesse,

full ofcares

Does throw out thrilling? shriekes, and shrieking cryes, piercing The last vaine helpe of womens great distresse, And with loud plaints importuneth the skyes, That molten starres do drop like weeping eyes; And Phoebus flying so most shamefull sight, His blushing face in foggy cloud implyes,° buries And hides for shame. What wit of mortall wight Can now devise to quit a thrall? from such a plight? _ release a captive

7 Eternall providence exceeding® thought, Where none appeares can make her selfe a way: A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought, From Lyons clawes to pluck the gripéd?® pray. Her shrill outeryes and shriekes so loud did bray, That all the woodes and forestes did resownd; A troupe of Faunes and Satyres! far away

transcending grasped

Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,

Whiles old Sylvanus? slept in shady arber sownd. 8 Who when they heard that pitteous strainéd voice, In hast forsooke their rurall meriment, And ran towards the far rebownded? noyce, To weet,° what wight so loudly did lament. Unto the place they come incontinent:° Whom when the raging Sarazin espide,

re-echoed learn immediately

A rude, misshapen, monstrous rablement, Whose like he never saw, he durst not bide,

But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ride. ")

The wyld woodgods arrivéd in the place, There find the virgin dolefull desolate, With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred® face,

As her outrageous foe had left her late,°

_flooded with tears

shortly before

And trembling yet through feare of former hate; All stand amazéd at so uncouth? sight, And gin to pittie her unhappie state,

strange

All stand astonied?® at her beautie bright, In their rude® eyes unworthie® of so wofull plight.

stupified rustic / undeserving

1. Woodland deities with men’s bodies above the waist and goats’ bodies below, noted for their sensuality.

2. Roman god of the woods, who is traditionally associated with fauns.

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10

She more amazed, in double dread doth dwell;

And every tender part for feare does shake: As when a greedie Wolfe through hunger fell® A seely® Lambe farre from the flocke does take,

fierce innocent

Of whom he meanes his bloudie feast to make, A Lyon spyes fast running towards him, The innocent pray in hast he does forsake, Which quit® from death yet quakes in every lim With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon looke so grim.°

rescued

savage

II

Such fearefull fit assaid° her trembling hart, Ne word to speake, ne joynt to move she had: The salvage® nation feele her secret smart,

assailed wild; uncivilized

And read her sorrow in her count’nance sad;

Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad, And rusticke horror® all a side doe lay, rough, rugged looks And gently grenning,° shew a semblance® glad grinning / an appearance To comfort her, and feare to put away, Their backward bent knees teach her humbly to obay.* 12

The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit Her single person to their barbarous truth,* But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sit, Late learnd® what harme to hastie trust ensu’th: They in compassion of her tender youth,

recently taught

And wonder of her beautie soveraine,?

Are wonne with pitty and unwonted ruth,° And all prostrate upon the lowly plaine,

supreme

unaccustomed pity

Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count’nance faine.°

glad

3

Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,° And yieldes her to extremitie of time;> So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise, And walketh forth without suspect® of crime: They all as glad, as birdes of joyous Prime,° Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,

Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme, And with greene braunches strowing all the ground, Do worship her, as Queene, with olive girlond cround.

3. Le., teach their knees, bent backward

like a

goat’s, to obey her. 4. Le., her solitary self to their wild allegiance

(“barbarous truth”).

5. Le., necessity of the time.

appearance

suspicion

springtime

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14 And all the way their merry pipes they sound, That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring, And with their hornéd feet do weare the ground, Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring. So towards old Sylvanus they her bring; Who with the noyse awakéd, commeth out,

To weet® the cause, his weake steps governing, And agéd limbs on Cypresse stadle® stout, And with an yvie twyne his wast is girt about.

learn staff

WS)

Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad, Or Bacchus merry fruit they did invent,® Or Cybeles franticke rites’ have made them mad; They drawing nigh, unto their God present That flowre of faith and beautie excellent. The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare,® Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;

His owne faire Dryope now he thinkes not faire, And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.! 16

The woodborne people fall before her flat, And worship her as Goddesse of the wood; And old Sylvanus selfe bethinkés not,° what To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood, In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood; Sometimes Dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,

cannot decide

But Venus never had so sober mood; Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee, But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins® to her knee.

soft boots

U7.

By vew of her he ginneth to revive His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse,* And calles to mind his pourtraiture alive,’ How faire he was, and yet not faire to° this, And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse A gentle Hynd, the which the lovely boy

compared to

Did love as life, above all worldly blisse;

For griefe whereof the lad n’ould?® after joy, But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.° 6. Le., whether

(“or”) they did find (“invent”)

would not self-willed suffering

1. Dryope and Pholoe were nymphs loved by Fau-

wine grapes.

nus and Pan. For Spenser, the names

7. Orgiastic dances in worship of Cybele, goddess of the pewers of nature. 8. I.e., Una, in the sense that she is a paragon, a perfect reflection of heavenly faith and beauty. 9. Glowed with intense concentration.

Pan, and Sylvanus were apparently interchangeable. 2. A fair youth, beloved of Sylvanus, turned into a cypress tree, 3. l.e., his appearance when alive.

Faunus,

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The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades* Her to behold do thither runne apace, And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades,° Flocke all about to see her lovely face: But when they vewéd have her heavenly grace, They envie her in their malitious mind, And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace: But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind,°

water nymphs

woodborn race

And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find. WS) Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky maid,

Did her content to please their feeble eyes, And long time with that salvage people staid, To gather breath in many miseries. During which time her gentle wit she plyes, To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine,

And made her th’Image of Idolatryes;? But when their bootlesse® zeale she did restraine useless From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.° __ willingly 20

It fortunéd a noble warlike knight Byjust occasion to that forrest came,

To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right,° From whence he took his well deserved name: He had in armes abroad wonne muchell? fame,

And fild far landes with glorie of his might, Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame, And ever loved to fight for Ladies right, But in vaine glorious frayes° he litle did delight.

true great

frays, fights

21

A Satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld, By straunge adventure as it did betyde,° happen And there begotten of a Lady myld, Faire Thyamis the daughter of Labryde,° That was in sacred bands of wedlocke tyde To Therion,’ a loose unruly swayne; Who had more joy to raunge the forrest wyde, And chase the salvage beast with busie payne,° painstaking care Then serve his Ladies love, and wast® in pleasures vayne. live idly

4. Spirits of trees,

whose lives ended when

tree they inhabited died. 5. The idol of their idolatries.

the

6. The name means “turbulence.”

“passion.”

7. The name means “wild beast.”

Thyamis means

THESEAER LE OUEENIE,

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22

The forlorne mayd did with loves longing burne And could not lacke® her lovers company, But to the wood she goes, to serve her turne, And seeke her spouse, that from her still® does fly, And followes other game and venery:§ ’

be without always

A Satyre chaunst her wandring for to find,

And kindling coles of lust in brutish eye, The loyall links of wedlocke did unbind, And made her person thrall unto his beastly kind.

23 So long in secret cabin there he held Her captive to his sensuall desire,

Till that with timely® fruit her belly sweld, And bore a boy unto that salvage sire: Then home he suffred her for to retire,° For ransome leaving him the late borne childe; Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire,° He noursled® up in life and manners wilde,

ripening

return grow up reared

Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.

bs 24 For all he taught the tender ymp,° was but To banish cowardize and bastard?® feare; His trembling hand he would him force to put Upon the Lyon and the rugged Beare, And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare; And eke® wyld roring Buls he would him make

child base

also

To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare;

And the Robuckes? in flight to overtake, That every beast for feare of him did fly and quake. 25

Thereby so fearelesse, and so fell° he grew,

That his owne sire and maister of his guise®

fierce

teacher of his behavior

Did often tremble at his horrid vew,°

rough appearance

And oft for dread of hurt would him advise,

The angry beasts not rashly to despise, Nor too much to provoke; for he would learne® The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise, (A lesson hard) and make the Libbard® sterne Leave roaring, when in rage he for revenge did earne.®

teach leopard yearn

26

And for to make his powre approved’? more, Wyld beasts in yron yokes he would compell; 8. Hunting; also sexual play.

demonstrated

9. A species of deer noted for its speed.

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EDMUND

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The spotted Panther, and the tuskéd Bore, The Pardale® swift, and the Tigre cruell; The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell;°

female leopard savage

And them constraine in equall teme! to draw. Such joy he had, their stubborne harts to quell, And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw, That his beheast they fearéd, as a tyrans law.

27 His loving mother came upon a day Unto the woods, to see her little sonne;

And chaunst unwares° to meet him in the way,

unexpectedly

After his sportes, and cruell pastime donne,

When after him a Lyonesse did runne, That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere® Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:° The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare, And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.

demand seized

28

The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight, And turning backe, gan fast to fly away, Untill with love revokt° from vaine affright, She hardly® yet perswaded was to stay,

recalled

with difficulty

And then to him these womanish words gan say;

“Ah Satyrane,” my dearling, and my joy, For love of me leave off this dreadfull play; To dally thus with death, is no fit toy, Go find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.” 29

In these and like delights of bloudy game He traynéd was, till ryper yeares he raught,°

reached

And there abode, whilst any beast of name

Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught To feare his force: and then his courage haught°® Desird of forreine foemen to be knowne;

And far abroad for straunge adventures sought: In which his might was never overthrowne, But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.

spread

30

Yet evermore

it was his manner faire,

After long labours and adventures spent, Unto those native woods for to repaire,° To see his sire and ofspring® auncient. And now he thither came for like intent;

1. Side by side, yoked together in a team.

2. Le., like a satyr.

return

origin

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Where he unwares the fairest Una found,

Straunge Lady, in so straunge habiliment,°

attire

Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,

Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.°

flow

31 He wondred at her wisedome heavenly rare, Whose like in womens wit he never knew; And when her curteous deeds he did compare, Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,°

pity

Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw,

And joyd to make proofe of her crueltie On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse,° and so trew: Thenceforth he kept her goodly company, And learnd her discipline® of faith and veritie.

harmless

teachings

32 But she all vowd? unto the Redcrosse knight,

entirely promised

His wandring perill closely° did lament,

secretly

Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,

But her deare® heart with anguish did torment, And all her wit in secret counsels spent, How to escape. At last in privie wise® To Satyrane she shewéd her intent; Who glad to gain such favour, gan devise, How with that pensive Maid he best might thence arise.°

loving privately

depart

2h)

So on a day when Satyres all were gone, To do their service to Sylvanus old, The gentle virgin left behind alone He led away with courage stout and bold. Too late it was, to Satyres to be told, Or ever hope recover her againe: In vaine he seekes that having cannot hold. So fast he carried her with carefull paine,° painstaking care That they the woods are past, and come now to the plaine. 34

The better part now of the lingring day, They traveild had, when as they farre espide A wearie wight forwandring® by the way, And towards him they gan in hast to ride,

wandering far and wide

To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,

Or tydings of her knight of the Redcrosse. But he them spying, gan to turne aside, For feare as seemd, or for some feignéd losse;°

More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.

pretended harm

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35 A silly° man, in simple weedes forworne,°

simple / worn out

And soild with dust of the long driéd way; His sandales were with toilesome travell torne,

And face all tand with scorching sunny ray, As° he had traveild many a sommers day, as if Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde;° India And in his hand a Jacobs staffe,° to stay pilgrim’s staff His wearie limbes upon: and eke behind, His scrip® did hang, in which his needments he did bind. bag 36

The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd Tydings of warre, and of adventures new; But warres, nor new adventures none he herd. Then Una gan to aske, if ought® he knew,

aught, anything

Or heard abroad of that her champion trew,

That in his armour bare a croslet® red. “Aye me, Deare dame,” quoth he, “well may I rew To tell the sad sight, which mine eies have red:° These eyes did see that knight both living and eke ded.”

small cross

beheld

a7

That cruell word her tender hart so thrild,° That suddein cold did runne through every vaine, And stony horrour all her sences fild

pierced

With dying fit,° that downe she fell for paine. deathlike swoon The knight her lightly° rearéd up againe, quickly And comforted with curteous kind reliefe: Then wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine The further processe® of her hidden griefe; account The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endured the chiefe. 38

Then gan the Pilgrim thus, “I chaunst this day, This fatall day, that shall I ever rew,°

rue, regret

To see two knights in travell on my way (A sory® sight) arraunged? in battell new, grievous / drawn up Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew: My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife, To see their blades so greedily imbrew,?* That drunke with bloud, yet thristed after life: What more? the Redcrosse knight was slaine with Paynim knife.” 39

“Ah dearest Lord,” quoth she, “how might that bee, And he the stoutest° knight, that ever wonne?”? bravest; strongest /fought 3. Soak themselves in blood.

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“Ah dearest dame,” quoth he, “how might I see

The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne?” “Where is,” said Satyrane, “that Paynims sonne, That him of life, and us ofjoy hath reft?” “Not far away,” quoth he, “he hence doth wonne® stay Foreby°® a fountaine, where I late him left close by Washing his bloudy wounds, that through® the steele were cleft.” by

40 Therewith the knight thence marchéd forth in hast, Whiles Una with huge heavinesse® opprest, Could not for sorrow follow him so fast; And soone he came, as he the place had ghest, Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest, In secret shadow by a fountaine side: Even he it was, that earst® would have supprest°® Faire Una: whom when Satyrane espide, With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide.

grief

before /violated

41 And said, “Arise thou curséd Miscreaunt,°

infidel

That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train4 Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt® That good knight of the Redcrosse to have slain: Arise, and with like treason now maintain® Thy guilty wrong, or else thee guilty yield.” The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,° And catching up in hast his three square? shield, And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.

boast defend

at once triangular

42

And drawing nigh him said, “Ah misborne Elfe,° In evill houre thy foes thee hither sent, Anothers wrongs to wreake upon thy selfe: Yet ill thou blamest me, for having blent® My name with guile and traiterous intent; That Redcrosse knight, perdie,° I never slew,

stained

by God (pardieu)

But had he beene, where earst his armes were lent, Th’enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew:

But thou his errour shalt, | hope now proven trew.”® 43

Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,° To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile Each other bent° his enimy to quell,°

4. Deceit. “Knightlesse”: unknightly. 5. Base-born knight of Faerie Land (“Elfe”). 6. L.e., had Redcrosse been wearing his arms, the

fierce determined / kill

enchanter Archimago would not have to regret his error in fighting me. But you will now repeat that error and that regret.

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That with their force they perst® both plate and maile,

pierced

And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,

That it would pitty° any living eie. Large floods of bloud adowne their sides did raile:° But floods of bloud could not them satisfie: Both hungred after death: both chose to win, or die.

bring pity to flow

44 So long they fight, and fell revenge pursue, That fainting® each, themselves to breathen let,

weakening

And oft refreshéd, battell oft renue: As when two Bores with rancling malice met,

Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret,° Til breathlesse both them selves aside retire,

tear

Where foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,

And trample th’earth, the whiles they may respire; Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.°

fresh

45

So fiersly, when these knights had breathéd once, They gan to fight returne, increasing more Their puissant® force, and cruell rage attonce, With heapéd strokes more hugely, then before, That with their drerie® wounds and bloudy gore They both deforméd,° scarsely could be known. By this sad Una fraught° with anguish sore, Led with their noise, which through the aire was thrown, Arrived, where they in erth their fruitles bloud had sown.

mighty gory

disfigured burdened

46

Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin Espide, he gan revive the memory Of his lewd lusts, and late attempted sin,

And left the doubtfull® battell hastily, To catch her, newly offred to his eie:

undecided

But Satyrane with strokes him turning, staid,

And sternely bad him other businesse plie,° Then® hunt the steps of pure unspotted Maid: Wherewith he all enraged, these bitter speaches said. as “O foolish faeries sonne, what furie mad

Hath thee incenst, to hast thy dolefull fate? Were it not better, I that Lady had,

Then that thou hadst repented it too late? Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate,

To love another. Lo then for thine ayd Here take thy lovers token on thy pate.” So they to fight; the whiles the royall Mayd Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.

take on

than

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But that false Pilgrim, which that leasing? told, Being in deed old Archimage, did stay

lie

In secret shadow, all this to behold,

And much rejoycéd in their bloudy fray: But when he saw the Damsell passe away He left his stond,° and her pursewd apace,

In hope to bring her to her last decay.°

place

i.e., her death

But for to tell her lamentable cace,

And eke® this battels end, will need another place.”

also

Canto 7

The Redcrosse knight is captive made By Gyaunt proud opprest,° Prince Arthur meets with Una greatly with those newes distrest.

overwhelmed

I

What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,° As to descry° the crafty cunning traine,° By which deceipt doth maske in visour? faire, And cast her colours dyéd deepe in graine,® To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine,°

And fitting gestures to her purpose frame, The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine?°®

wary perceive / guile a mask feign, imitate engage

Great maistresse of her art was that false Dame,

The false Duessa, clokéd with Fidessaes name. 2

Who when returning from the drery Night, She fownd not in that perilous house of Pryde, Where she had left, the noble Redcrosse knight,

Her hoped pray, she would no lenger bide, But forth she went, to seeke him far and wide. Ere long she fownd, whereas° he wearie sate,

To rest him selfe, foreby° a fountaine side, Disarméd all of yron-coted Plate, And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate. 3 He feedes upon the cooling shade, and bayes° His sweatie forehead in the breathing wind, Which through the trembling leaves full gently playes Wherein the cherefull birds of sundry kind Do chaunt sweet musick, to delight his mind: 7. In fact Spenser never tells how the battle ended. But Satyrane reappears in Book 3.

where

beside

bathes

8. Le., Deceit disposes her colors, thoroughly dyed, so as to seem like Truth.

328

EDMUND

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The Witch approaching gan him fairely® greet, courteously And with reproch of carelesnesse® unkind indifference unfitting Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet,° With fowle words tempring? faire, soure gall with hony sweet. mingling 4

Unkindnesse past, they gan of solace treat,° And bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous shade, Which shielded them against the boyling heat, And with greene boughes decking a gloomy glade,

pleasure speak

About the fountaine like a girlond made;

Whose bubbling wave did ever freshly well, Ne ever would through fervent? sommer fade:° The sacred Nymph, which therein wont® to dwell,

hot / dry up

was accustomed

Was out of Dianes favour, as it then befell.

5

The cause was this: one day when Phoebe? fayre With all her band was following the chace,° This Nymph, quite tyred with heat of scorching ayre Sat downe to rest in middest of the race: The goddesse wroth® gan fowly her disgrace,

hunt

angered

And bad the waters, which from her did flow, Be such as she her selfe was then in place.® Thenceforth her waters waxéd dull and slow,

there

And all that drunke thereof, did faint and feeble grow. 6

Hereof this gentle knight unweeting® was, And lying downe upon the sandie graile,°

ignorant

gravel

Drunke of the streame, as cleare as cristall glas;

Eftsoones° his manly forces gan to faile, And mightie strong was turnd to feeble fraile. His chaunged powres at first themselves not felt, Till crudled® cold his corage® gan assaile, And chearefull® bloud in faintnesse chill did melt,

immediately

congealing / vigor

Which like a fever fit through all his body swelt.°

lively raged

7.

Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame, Pourd out in loosnesse' on the grassy grownd, Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame:° Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd,

reputation

Which through the wood loud bellowing, did rebownd, That all the earth for terrour seemed to shake, And trees did tremble. Th’Elfe therewith astownd,°

9. Le., Diana, goddess of the moon and of chastity.

amazed

1. Spread out in lewdness (“loosnesse”); sexually

expended,

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7

Upstarted lightly° from his looser make,” And his unready weapons gan in hand to take.

|

oS)

quickly

8

But ere he could his armour on him dight,° Or get his shield, his monstrous enimy With sturdie steps came stalking in his sight, An hideous Geant horrible and hye, That with his talnesse seemd to threat the skye, The ground eke® gronéd under him for dreed:° His living like saw never living eye, Ne durst behold: his stature did exceed The hight of three the tallest sonnes of mortall seed.

put on

also / dread

o The greatest Earth his uncouth® mother was, vile; strange And blustring Aeolus his boasted sire,? Who with his breath, which through the world doth pas, Her hollow womb did secretly inspire,° breathe into And fild her hidden caves with stormie yre,° ire, anger That she conceived; and trebling the dew time,

In which the wombes of women do expire,°

bring forth

Brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slime, Puft up with emptie wind, and fild with sinfull crime. ife)

So growen great through arrogant delight Of th’high descent, whereof he was yborne,

And through presumption of his matchlesse might, All other powres and knighthood he did scorne. Such now he marcheth to this man forlorne,°

abandoned

And left to losse:° his stalking steps are stayde® destruction / supported Upon a snaggy Oke,* which he had torne Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made

His mortall° mace, wherewith his foemen he dismayde.’

death-dealing

ry

That when the knight he spide, he gan advance With huge force and insupportable mayne,° And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce;° Who haplesse,° and eke hopelesse, all in vaine

irresistible power strut unlucky

Did to him pace, sad battaile to darrayne,°

engage

Disarmd, disgrast, and inwardly dismayde, And eke so faint in every joynt and vaine, Through that fraile° fountaine, which him feeble made, — enfeebling That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse° single blade. useless 2. Too licentious (“looser”) companion. 3. Aeolus was keeper of the winds. The giant’s

4. L.e., he uses as walking stick a knotty (“snaggy”) oak tree.

descent from Earth and Wind links him to earth-

5. In

quakes.

dissolved.”

its

usual

sense,

but

also

“dis-made,

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12 The Geaunt strooke so maynly° mercilesse, That could have overthrowne a stony towre, And were not heavenly grace, that him did blesse, He had beene pouldred’ all, as thin as flowre: But he was wary of that deadly stowre,° And lightly° lept from underneath the blow: Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre,

mightily

powdered peril quickly

That with the wind it did him overthrow,

And all his sences stound,° that still he lay full low.

stunned

13 As when that divelish yron Engin® wrought

i.e., cannon

In deepest Hell, and framd by Furies skill,

With windy Nitre and quick Sulphur fraught,° And ramd with bullet round, ordaind to kill, Conceiveth fire, the heavens it doth fill

With thundring noyse, and all the ayre doth choke, That none can breath, nor see, nor heare at will,

Through smouldry cloud of duskish stincking smoke, That th’onely breath him daunts,’ who hath escapt the stroke.

14 So daunted when the Geaunt saw the knight, His heavie hand he heaved up on hye, And him to dust thought to have battred quight, Untill Duessa loud to him gan crye; “O great Orgoglio,® greatest under skye, O hold thy mortall hand for Ladies sake, Hold for my sake, and do him not to dye,°

do not cause him to die

But vanquisht thine eternall bondslave make, And me thy worthy meed unto thy Leman take.”? 15 He hearkned, and did stay°® from further harmes,

To gayne so goodly guerdon,° as she spake: So willingly she came into his armes, Who her as willingly to grace® did take, And was possesséd of his new found make.° Then up he tooke the slombred® sencelesse corse,

refrain

reward

favor

mate

un

conscious

And ere he could out of his swowne awake,

Him to his castle brought with hastie forse, And in a Dongeon deepe him threw without remorse.

6. Filled (“fraught”) with gunpowder (“Nitre” and “Sulphur”). 7. Le., so that the blast or smell alone (“onely”) overcomes him.

8. Pride, haughtiness, disdain (Italian). 9. L.e., take me, your worthy rewar d, as your mistress.

HE

SPNERVE

OIWERENE:

IBOOK

i, CANO!

From that day forth Duessa was his deare, And highly honourd in his haughtie eye, He gave her gold and purple pall° to weare, And triple crowne set on her head full hye,! And her endowd with royall majestye: Then for to make her dreaded more of men

7

|

3)5h

crimson robe of royalty

3

And peoples harts with awfull terrour tye,° A monstrous beast ybred in filthy fen® He chose, which he had kept long time in darksome den.

Such one it was, as that renowméd Snake Which great Alcides in Stremona slew, Long fostred in the filth of Lerna lake,? Whose many heads out budding ever new, Did breed° him endlesse labour to subdew: But this same Monster much more ugly was; For seven great heads out of his body grew,

bind marsh

cause

An yron brest, and backe of scaly bras,

And all embrewd? in bloud, his eyes did shine as glas.

His tayle was stretchéd out in wondrous length, That to the house of heavenly gods it raught,° And with extorted powre, and borrowed strength, The ever-burning lamps° from thence it brought, And prowdly threw to ground, as things of nought; And underneath his filthy feet did tread The sacred things, and holy heasts foretaught.? Upon this dreadfull Beast with sevenfold head He set the false Duessa, for more aw and dread.

stained

reached

stars

The wofull Dwarfe, which saw his maisters fall,

Whiles he had keeping of his grasing steed, And valiant knight become a caytive® thrall, When all was past, tooke up his forlorne weed,°

captive

abandoned garment

His mightie armour, missing most at need; His silver shield, now idle maisterlesse;

His poynant?® speare, that many made to bleed, The ruefull moniments® of heavinesse,°

sharp memorials / grief

And with them all departes, to tell his great distresse. 1. Duessa is attired like the Whore of Babylon in Revelation 17.3—4. The triple crown is that of the

ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads. And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven,

papacy (see canto 2, stanzas 13 and 22).

and did cast them to the earth... [he is] that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which

2. The nine-headed Lernean hydra slain by Hercules (Alcides). Orgoglio’s seven-headed monster recalls the red dragon of Revelation 12.3—9: “behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and

deceiveth the whole world.” Many Protestants associated the Beast with the Roman Church, 3. Doctrines (“holy heasts”) previously taught.

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20

He had not travaild long, when on the way He wofull Ladie, wofull Una met,

Fast flying from the Paynims greedy pray,° Whilest Satyrane him from pursuit did let:°

clutch prevent

Who when her eyes she on the Dwarfe had set,

And saw the signes, that deadly tydings spake, She fell to ground for sorrowfull regret,° And lively breath her sad brest did forsake,

grief

Yet might her pitteous hart be seene to pant and quake. 21

The messenger of so unhappie newes Would faine® have dyde: dead was his hart within, Yet outwardly some little comfort shewes: At last recovering hart, he does begin To rub her temples, and to chaufe® her chin, And every tender part does tosse and turne: So hardly he the flitted life does win,

gladly

chafe, rub

Unto her native prison to retourne:*

Then gins her grieved ghost® thus to lament and mourne.

spirit

22

“Ye dreary instruments of dolefull sight,

That doe this deadly spectacle behold, Why do ye lenger® feed on loathed light, Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould,’ Sith® cruell fates the carefull® threeds unfould,

longer since / intricate

The which my life and love together tyde? Now let the stony dart of senselesse cold? Perce to my hart, and pas through every side, And let eternall night so sad sight fro me hide.

i.e., death

23 “O lightsome day, the lampe of highest Jove, First made by him,° mens wandring wayes to guyde, When darknesse he in deepest dongeon drove, Henceforth thy hated face for ever hyde, And shut up heavens windowes shyning wyde: For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed, And late® repentance, which shall long abyde. Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed, But seeléd up with death, shall have their deadly meed.”°

4. I.e., with such difficulty (“so hardly”) he per-

(“mould”).

suades

6. An allusion to Genesis

(“does

win”)

the life back

to her body

(“native prison”). 5. Le., or find it pleasure to gaze on earthly form

too late

reward of death

1.3: “And

God

Let there be light: and there was light.”

said,

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24 Then downe But he her Thrise did And thrise

againe she fell unto the ground; quickly rearéd up againe: she sinke adowne in deadly swownd, he her revived with busie paine:°

care

At last when life recovered had the raine,°

rule

And over-wrestled his strong enemie, With foltring® tong, and trembling every vaine, “Tell on,” quoth she, “the wofull Tragedie, The which these reliques°® sad present unto mine eie.

faltering remains

+3

“Tempestuous fortune hath spent all her spight, And thrilling? sorrow throwne his utmost dart; Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heavy plight,

piercing

Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart: Who hath endured the whole, can beare each part. If death it be, it is not the first wound,

That launched? hath my brest with bleeding smart. Begin, and end the bitter balefull stound;°

pierced time (of sorrow)

If lesse, then that® I feare, more favour I have found.”

than what

26

Then gan the Dwarfe the whole discourse? declare, The subtill traines° of Archimago old; The wanton loves of false Fidessa faire, Bought with the bloud of vanquisht Paynim bold: The wretched payre transformed to treen mould;°

story wiles shape of a tree

The house of Pride, and perils round about;

The combat, which he with Sansjoy did hould; The lucklesse conflict with the Gyant stout,

Wherein captived, of life or death he stood in doubt. 27 She heard with patience all unto the end,

And strove to maister sorrowfull assay,° Which greater grew, the more she did contend, And almost rent her tender hart in tway;°

And love fresh coles unto her fire did lay: For greater love, the greater is the losse. Was never Ladie loved dearer day,’ Then she did love the knight of the Redcrosse; For whose deare sake so many troubles her did tosse. 28

At last when fervent sorrow slakéed was,

She up arose, resolving him to find 7. L.e., there was never a lady who loved life (“day”) more dearly than she loved Redcrosse.

affliction

two

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Alive or dead: and forward forth doth pas, All° as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd:°

just / showed

full of care; sorrowful And evermore in constant carefull® mind anguish She fed her wound with fresh renewéd bale;° beaten wind, bitter with bet® and stormes, Long tost with High over hils, and low adowne the dale, She wandred many a wood, and measurd many a vale. ag

At last she chauncéd by good hap to meet A goodly knight, faire marching by the way Together with his Squire, arayed meet:° properly His glitterand°® armour shinéd farre away, glittering Like glauncing® light of Phoebus brightest ray; flashing From top to toe no place appeared bare, That deadly dint® of steele endanger may: stroke Athwart his brest a bauldrick® brave® he ware, splendid That shynd, like twinkling stars, with stons most pretious rare.

30 And in the midst thereof one pretious stone Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,° powers Shapt like a Ladies head, exceeding shone, Like Hesperus° emongst the lesser lights,° evening star /stars And strove for to amaze the weaker sights; Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong In yvory sheath, ycarved with curious slights;° designs Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and handle strong Of mother pearle, and buckled with a golden tong.° pin

31 His haughtie helmet, horrid® all with gold,

Both glorious brightnesse, and great terrour bred; For all the crest a Dragon did enfold With greedie pawes, and over all did spred His golden wings: his dreadfull hideous hed Close couchéd on the bever,°? seemed to throw From flaming mouth bright sparkles fierie red,

bristling

visor

That suddeine horror to faint harts did show;

And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his backe full low.

32 Upon the top of all his loftie crest,° A bunch of haires discolourd® diversly, With sprincled pearle, and gold full richly drest, Did shake, and seemed to daunce forjollity, Like to an Almond tree ymounted hye 8. Sash worn over the shoulder to support the sword.

top of helmet dyed

DWESPNERTE

TOU BENE,

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On top of greene Selinis? all alone, With blossomes brave bedeckéd daintily; Whose tender locks do tremble every one At every little breath, that under heaven is blowne. 33

His warlike shield all closely covered was, Ne might of mortall eye be ever seene; Not made of steele, nor of enduring bras,

Such earthly mettals soone consuméd bene:° But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene® It framéd was, one massie entire mould,! Hewen out of Adamant rocke with engines° keene, That point of speare it never percen could,

i.e., been: be, are

Ne dint® of direfull sword divide the substance would.

clear tools

blow

34

The same to wight? he never wont disclose, But° when as monsters huge he would dismay, Or daunt unequall armies of his foes, Or when the flying heavens he would affray;7 For so exceeding shone his glistring ray, That Phoebus golden face it did attaint,° As when a cloud his beames doth over-lay; And silver Cynthia® wexed pale and faint, As when her face is staynd with magicke arts constraint.’

creature

except

make dim the moon

35

No magicke arts hereof had any might, Nor bloudie wordes of bold Enchaunters call, But all that was not such, as seemd in sight, Before that shield did fade, and suddeine fall:

And when him list° the raskall routes° appall, wanted to / unruly mobs Men into stones therewith he could transmew,? change And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all; And when him list the prouder lookes subdew, He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.° form 36 Ne let it seeme, that credence this exceedes,

For he that made the same, was knowne right well To have done much more admirable® deedes. It Merlin was, which whylome? did excell All living wightes in might of magicke spell:

marvelous formerly

Both shield, and sword, and armour all he wrought

9. Town associated with the palm awarded to

2. I.e., when

he would frighten (“affray”) the

victors (Virgil, Aeneid 3.705).

revolving constellations.

1. The shield was made of one solid piece of dia-

3. Magicians were said to be able to cause an

mond, unflawed, unpierceable, translucent.

eclipse of the moon.

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came

For this young Prince,* when first to armes he fell;°

But when he dyde, the Faerie Queene it brought To Faerie lond, where yet it may be seene, if sought. 57,

A gentle® youth, his dearely loved Squire His speare of heben® wood behind him bare, Whose harmefull head, thrice heated in the fire, Had riven many a brest with pikehead® square;°

A goodly person, and could menage? faire His stubborne steed with curbéd canon bit,’ Who under him did trample as the aire, And chauft,° that any on his backe should sit; The yron rowels® into frothy fome he bit.

noble ebony

spearhead /stout control fretted ends of the bit

38

When as this knight nigh to the Ladie drew, With lovely court® he gan her entertaine; But when he heard her answers loth, he knew Some secret sorrow Which to allay, and Faire feeling words And for her humour To tempt® the cause Wherewith emmoved,

kind courtesy

did her heart distraine:° afflict calme her storming paine, he wisely gan display,° pour forth fitting purpose faine,° it selfe for to bewray;° invite / reveal these bleeding words she gan to say. 39

“What worlds delight, or joy of living speach Can heart, so plunged in sea of sorrowes deepe, And heapéd with so huge misfortunes, reach? The carefull° cold beginneth for to creepe,

And in my heart his yron arrow steepe, Soone as I thinke upon my bitter bale:° Such helplesse harmes yts better hidden keepe, Then rip up® griefe, where it may not availe, My last left comfort is, my woes to weepe and waile.”

afflicting

grief

than lay open

40 “Ah Ladie deare,” quoth then the gentle knight,

“Well may I weene,° your griefe is wondrous great; For wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright,° Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat. But wofull Ladie let me you intrete, For to unfold the anguish of your hart: Mishaps are maistred by advice discrete, 4. The

reference

to Merlin

indicates

that the

suppose spirit

as the perfection of all the virtues and containing

prince is Arthur (who had been mentioned in the

them all.

canto’s prefatory quatrain). In the LettertoRalegh, he is identified with “magnificence,” understood

5. A smooth, round bit. 6. I.e., suited his manner to her mood.

THESEABRUE

VOUEENE,

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TH, GANTO!

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And counsell mittigates the greatest smart; Found never helpe, who never would his hurts impart.””

41 “O but,” quoth she, “great griefe will not be tould, And can more easily be thought, then said.” “Right so”; quoth he, “but he, that never would, Could never: will to might gives greatest aid.”® “But grief,” quoth she, “does greater grow displaid,? when revealed If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire.” “Despaire breedes not,” quoth he, “where faith is staid.”° firm “No faith so fast,” quoth she, “but flesh does paire.”? impair “Flesh may empaire,” quoth he, “but reason can repaire.”

42 His goodly reason, and well guided speach So deepe did settle in her gratious thought, That her perswaded to disclose the breach,° Which love and fortune in her heart had wrought, And said; “Faire Sir, | hope good hap® hath brought You to inquire the secrets of my griefe, Or° that your wisedome will direct my thought, Or that your prowesse can me yield reliefe:

wound fortune either

Then heare the storie sad, which I shall tell you briefe.

43 “The forlorne? Maiden, whom your eyes have seene

forsaken

The laughing stocke of fortunes mockeries, Am th’only daughter of a King and Queene, Whose parents deare, whilest equall destinies Did runne about,’ and their felicities The favourable heavens did not envy, Did spread their rule through all the territories, Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by,

And Gehons golden waves doe wash continually.!

44 “Till that their cruell cursed enemy, An huge great Dragon horrible in sight, Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartary,° With murdrous ravine,° and devouring might Their kingdome spoild,° and countrey wasted quight:

Tartarus (hell) destruction plundered

Themselves, for feare into his jawes to fall,

He forst to castle strong to take their flight,

7. I.e., he never found help who would not tell

9. I.e., while the impartial fates ran their course.

his sorrows. 8. l.e., he that fails to will something cannot do it: willing gives the greatest help to one’s power (“might”).

1. Phison, Euphrates, and Gehon, along with the Tigris, were the rivers of the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2.11—14).

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Where fast embard? in mightie brasen wall,

imprisoned

He has them now foure yeres besiegd to make them thrall. 45

“Full many knights adventurous and stout Have enterprizd that Monster to subdew;

From every coast® that heaven walks about,

land

Have thither come the noble Martiall crew,

That famous hard atchievements still pursew, Yet never any could that girlond win, But all still shronke,° and still he greater grew: All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin, The pitteous pray of his fierce crueltie have bin.

quailed

46

“At last yledd° with farre reported praise, Which flying fame throughout the world had spread, Of doughtie® knights, whom Faery land did raise, That noble order hight® of Maidenhed,* Forthwith to court of Gloriane I sped, Of Gloriane great Queene of glory bright, Whose kingdomes seat Cleopolis? is red,° There to obtaine some such redoubted knight, That Parents deare from tyrants powre deliver might.

led brave called

named

47

“It was my chance (my chance was faire and good) There for to find a fresh unproved® knight, Whose manly hands imbrewed in guiltie blood Had never bene,’ ne ever by his might Had throwne to ground the unregarded?® right: Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made

untried

unrespected

(I witnesse am) in many a cruell fight;

The groning ghosts of many one dismaide® Have felt the bitter dint°® of his avenging blade.

defeated blow

48

“And ye the forlorne reliques of his powre, His byting sword, and his devouring speare, Which have enduréd many a dreadfull stowre,°

Can speake his prowesse, that did earst° you beare, And well could rule: now he hath left you heare,

conflict before

To be the record of his ruefull losse, And of my dolefull disaventurous deare:°

sad unfortunate dear one

O heavie record of the good Redcrosse, Where have you left your Lord, that could so well you tosse?®

handle

2. The type or analogue of the Order of the Garter. Its emblem shows Saint George killing the dragon,

3. The name means “famous city.” 4. Le., his strong hands had never been guiltily

and its star is the Red Cross.

stained (“imbrewed”) with blood.

THE

EAERVESOURENE,

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49

“Well hopéd I, and faire beginnings had, That he my captive langour should redeeme,° Till all unweeting,? an Enchaunter bad His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme® My loyalty, not such as it did seeme; That rather death desire, then such despight.°

unknowing

misjudge

Be judge ye heavens, that all things right esteeme,°

judge rightly

How I him loved, and love with all my might, So thought I eke of him, and thinke I thought aright. 50

“Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke, To wander, where wilde fortune would me lead,

And other bywaies he himselfe betooke, Where never foot of living wight did tread,

That brought not backe the balefull body dead;°

i.e., who was not killed

In which him chauncéd false Duessa meete,

Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread,’ Who with her witchcraft and misseeming® sweete, _false appearance

Inveigled him to follow her desires unmeete.®

improper

51

“At last by subtill sleights she him betraid Unto his foe, a Gyant huge and tall, Who him disarmed, dissolute,° dismaid,

enfeebled club

Unwares surprised and with mightie mall° The monster mercilesse him made to fall, Whose fall did never foe before behold;

And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall, Remedilesse, for aie? he doth him hold;

This is my cause of griefe, more great, then may be told.” 52

Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint:° But he her comforted and faire bespake,

grow weak; lose heart

“Certés,° Madame, ye have great cause of plaint, That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake. But be of cheare, and comfort to you take:

certainly

For till I have acquit°® your captive knight, Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake.” His chearefull words revived her chearelesse spright, So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding ever right.

Ds l.e., relieve my state, captive to sadness. 6. l.e., I, who prefer death to such treachery (“d espight”).

freed

7. Le., the only object of my mortal fear. 8. L.e., forever (“for aie”) without hope of rescue

(“remedilesse”),

340

EDMUND

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Canto 8

Faire virgin to redeeme her deare brings Arthur to the fight: Who slayes the Gyant, wounds the beast,

and strips Duessa quight. I

Ay me, how many perils doe enfold The righteous man, to make him daily fall? Were not, that heavenly grace doth him uphold, And stedfast truth acquite® him out of all.

deliver

Her love is firme, her care continuall,

So oft as he through his owne foolish pride, Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands° made thrall: Else should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dyde,

bonds

For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thither guide. 2

They sadly traveild thus, untill they came Nigh to a castle builded strong and hie: Then cryde the Dwarfe, “lo yonder is the same,

In which my Lord my liege doth lucklesse lie, Thrall to that Gyants hatefull tyrannie: Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay.”° The noble knight alighted by and by°

put to trial immediately

From loftie steede, and bad the Ladie stay,

To see what end of fight should him befall that day. 3 So with the Squire, th’admirer of his might,

He marchéd forth towards that castle wall; Whose gates he found fast shut, ne living wight To ward® the same, nor answere commers call. Then tooke that Squire an horne of bugle® small, Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold, And tassels gay. Wyde wonders over all® Of that same hornes great vertues°® weren told,’ Which had approved? bene in uses manifold.

guard wild ox

everywhere powers

demonstrated

4

Was never wight, that heard that shrilling sound, But trembling feare did feele in every vaine; Three miles it might be easie heard around, And Ecchoes three answered it selfe againe: No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine® Might once abide the terror of that blast,

svare

9. Marvelous tales (“Wyde wonders”) told of the horn connect it with the horn of the legendary French hero Roland and the ram’s horn of Joshua, with which he razed the walls of Jericho (Joshua 6.5)

LAE

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CANTONS

But presently° was voide and wholly vaine: No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast, But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast.°

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341

al once

burst

5

The same before the Geants That all the castle quakéd And every dore of freewill The Gyant selfe dismaiéd

gate he blew, from the ground, open flew. with that sownd,

Where he with his Duessa dalliance® fownd,

amorous play

In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre, With staring? countenance sterne, as one astownd, glaring And staggering steps, to weet, what suddein stowre® disturbance Had wrought that horror strange, and dared his dreaded powre. 6

And after him the proud Duessa came, High mounted on her manyheaded beast, And every head with fyrie tongue did flame, And every head was crownéd on his creast, And bloudie mouthed with late cruell feast. That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild Upon his manly arme he soone addrest,° made ready And at him fiercely flew, with courage fild, And eger greedinesse° through every member thrild. eagerness for battle il Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight, Inflamed with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,°

indignation

And lifting up his dreadfull club on hight,

All armed with ragged snubbes® and knottie graine, Him thought at first encounter to have slaine. But wise and warie was that noble Pere,°

snags peer

And lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,°

force

Did faire® avoide the violence him nere;

quite

It booted nought, to thinke, such thunderbolts to beare.' 8 Ne shame he thought to shunne so hideous might: useless The idle® stroke, enforcing furious way, Missing the marke of his misayméd sight its /force Did fall to ground, and with his° heavie sway° So deepely dinted in the driven clay, That three yardes deepe a furrow up did throw: assault The sad earth wounded with so sore assay,° Did grone full grievous underneath the blow, And trembling with strange feare, did like an earthquake show.

1. Le., it was useless to think of withstanding such blows.

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9

As when almightie Jove in wrathfull mood, To wreake® the guilt of mortall sins is bent,°

punish / disposed

Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,°

Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,°

hatred (feud)

smothering darkness

Through riven cloudes and molten firmament;

The fierce threeforkéd engin® making way, Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent, And all that might his angrie passage stay, And shooting in the earth, casts up a mount of clay.

weapon

ite)

His boystrous® club, so buried in the ground,

He could not rearen up againe so light,° But that the knight him at avantage found, And whiles he strove his combred clubbe to quight? Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright

massive

easily

He smote off his left arme, which like a blocke

Did fall to ground, deprived of native might; Large streames of bloud out of the trunckéd stocke® truncated stump Forth gushéd, like fresh water streame from riven rocke.* II

Dismaiéd with so desperate deadly wound, And eke® impatient of unwonted paine,* He loudly brayd with beastly yelling sound,

also

That all the fields rebellowéd againe;

As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian? plaine An heard of Bulles, whom kindly® rage doth sting, Do for the milkie mothers want complaine,° And fill the fields with troublous bellowing,

natural

The neighbour woods around with hollow murmur ring. 12

That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw

The evill stownd, that daungerd her estate,’ Unto his aide she hastily did draw Her dreadfull beast, who swolne with bloud of late

Came ramping? forth with proud presumpteous gate,° ° And threatned all his heads like flaming brands.° But him the Squire made quickly to retrate, Encountring fierce with single® sword in hand,

rearing / gait torches only

And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarke stand.

2. Strove to release his encumbered club. 3. Cf. Exodus 17.6, where Moses smites the rock and water flows forth.

4. I.e., unable to bear (“impatient unfamiliar (“unwonted”) pain.

5. Jutland, once called the Cimbric peninsula. 6. Le., mourn the cows’ absence. 7. I.e., the peril (“stownd”) that endangered her

of”)

this

state.

THE

FAERIE

QUEENE,

BOOK

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CANTO

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The proud Duessa full of wrathfull spight, And fierce disdaine, to be affronted so, Enforst her purple? beast with all her might

That stop® out of the way to overthroe, Scorning the let° of so unequall foe: But nathemore® would that courageous swayne To her yeeld passage, gainst his Lord to goe, But with outrageous? strokes did him restraine,

scarlet obstacle hindrance never the more exceedingly fierce

And with his bodie bard the way atwixt them twaine.

14 Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup, Which still° she bore, replete with magick artes;* Death and despeyre did many thereof sup, And secret poyson through their inner parts, Th’eternall bale°® of heavie wounded harts;

always woe

Which after charmes and some enchauntments said,

She lightly sprinkled on his weaker? parts; Therewith his sturdie courage soone was quayd,° And all his senses were with suddeine dread dismayd.

too weak quelled

Wp

So downe he fell before the cruell beast, Who on his necke his bloudie clawes did seize,

That life nigh crusht out of his panting brest: No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize. That when the carefull° knight gan well avise,° watchful / observe He lightly° left the foe, with whom he fought, quickly And to the beast gan turne his enterprise; For wondrous anguish in his hart it wrought, To see his loved Squire into such thraldome® brought. slavery 16

And high advauncing?® his bloud-thirstie blade,

lifting up

Stroke one of those deforméd heads so sore,’

That of his puissance® proud ensample made; His monstrous scalpe® downe to his teeth it tore And that misforméd shape mis-shaped more: A sea of bloud gusht from the gaping wound, That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore,

strength skull

And overflowéd all the field around;

That over shoes! in bloud he waded on the ground.

8. Alludes to the golden cup of the woman in Rev-

ess who turned men into beasts (in Odyssey 10).

elation 17.4, which is “full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication”, the chalice of the Roman Church; and the cup of Circe, the sorcer-

9. “I saw one of his [i.e., the beast’s] heads as it were wounded to death” (Revelation 13.3). 1. Le., deeply immersed.

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ay

Thereat he roaréd for exceeding paine, That to have heard, great horror would have bred,°

produced

And scourging th’emptie ayre with his long traine,° Through great impatience of his grieved hed? His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted®

tail place

Would have cast downe, and trod in durtie myre,

Had not the Gyant soone her succouréd;°

aided

pain / anger

Who all enraged with smart° and franticke yre,°

Came hurtling in full fierce, and forst the knight retyre. 18

The force, which wont? in two to be disperst,

used

In one alone left hand? he now unites,

Which is through rage more strong then both were erst;°

before

With which his hideous club aloft he dites,°

raises

And at his foe with furious rigour® smites, That strongest Oake might seeme to overthrow:

violence

The stroke upon his shield so heavie lites,

That to the ground it doubleth him full low: What mortall wight could ever beare so monstrous blow? 19

And in his fall his shield, that covered was,

Did loose his vele® by chaunce, and open flew: The light whereof, that heavens light did pas,° Such blazing brightnesse through the aier threw, That eye mote not the same endure to vew. Which when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye,

its covering SUTpass

He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew

His weapon huge, that heaved was on hye For to have slaine the man, that on the ground did lye.

20 And eke the fruitfull-headed® beast, amazed At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,

many-headed

Became starke blind, and all his senses dazed, That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,

And seemed himselfe as conquered to yield. Whom when his maistresse proud perceived to fall, Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,

Unto the Gyant loudly she gan call, “O helpe Orgoglio, helpe, or else we perish all.”

2. Le., through inability to endure (“impatience”) his afflicted (“grieved”) head.

3. Le., in the one hand left to him.

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At her so pitteous cry was much amooved Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,° Againe his wonted® angry weapon prooved:° But all in vaine: for he has read his end

lover usual / tried

In that bright shield, and all their forces spend

Themselves in vaine: for since that glauncing® sight,

flashing

He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend; As where th’Almighties lightning brond® does light, It dimmes the dazéd eyen, and daunts the senses quight.

firebrand

22s

Whom

when the Prince, to battell new addrest,

And threatning high his dreadfull stroke did see, His sparkling blade about his head he blest,° And smote off quite his right leg by the knee, That downe he tombled; as an agéd tree, High growing on the top of rocky clift, Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be, The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift° Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.°

brandished

split impact

2S

Or as a Castle rearéd high and round, By subtile engins and malitious slight* Is underminéd from the lowest ground, And her foundation forst,° and feebled quight, At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight

shattered

Her hastie ruine does more heavie make,

And yields it selfe unto the victours might; Such was this Gyaunts fall, that seemed to shake The stedfast globe of earth, as° it for feare did quake.

as if

24 The knight then lightly° leaping to the pray, With mortall steele him smot againe so sore, That headlesse his unweldy bodie lay, All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore, Which flowéd from his wounds in wondrous store.° But soone as breath out of his breast did pas, That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore, Was vanisht quite, and of that monstrous mas

Was nothing left, but like an emptie bladder was.

4. Clever machines of war (“engins”) and evil strategy.

quickly

abundance

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=») Whose grievous fall, when false Duessa spide,

Her golden cup she cast unto the ground, And crownéd mitre’ rudely°® threw aside; Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound,

violently

That she could not endure that dolefull stound,°

SOTTOW

But leaving all behind her, fled away: The light-foot Squire her quickly turned around, And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay, So brought unto his Lord, as his deserved pray. 26

The royall Virgin, which beheld from farre,

In pensive? plight, and sad perplexitie, The whole achievement of this doubtfull warre,° Came running fast to greet his victorie, With sober gladnesse, and myld modestie, And with sweet joyous cheare® him thus bespake; “Faire braunch of noblesse, flowre of chevalrie, That with your worth the world amazéd make,

anxious

countenance

How shall I quite® the paines, ye suffer for my sake?

27] “And you® fresh bud of vertue springing fast, Whom these sad eyes saw nigh unto deaths dore, What hath poore Virgin for such perill past, Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore My simple selfe, and service evermore; And he that high does sit, and all things see With equall° eyes, their merites to restore,° Behold what ye this day have done for mee, And what I cannot quite,° requite with usuree.°

requite

i.e., the Squire

impartial / reward

repay / interest

28

“But sith® the heavens, and your faire handeling®

since / conduct

Have made you maister of the field this day, Your fortune maister eke with governing,’ And well begun end all so well, I pray, Ne let that wicked woman scape away; For she it is, that did my Lord bethrall, My dearest Lord, and deepe in dongeon lay, Where he his better dayes hath wasted all.® O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call.”

5. An allusion to the pope’s triple tiara. Gales

the final outcome,

which

had been

agement. in

doubt, of this battle. 7. Secure your good fortune also by prudent man-

8. Le., he has consumed

best days.

(“wasted”)

there

his

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Forthwith he gave in charge unto his Squire, That scarlot whore to keepen carefully; Whiles he himselfe with greedie® great desire Into the Castle entred forcibly, Where living creature none he did espye; Then gan he lowdly through the house to call: But no man cared to answere to his crye. There raignd a solemne silence over all, Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene in bowre or hall.

eager

30 At last with creeping crooked pace forth came An old old man, with beard as white as snow,

That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame,° And guide his wearie gate® both too and fro: For his eye sight him failéd long ygo, And on his arme a bounch of keyes’ he bore, The which unuséd, rust did overgrow: Those were the keyes of every inner dore, But he could not them use, but kept them still in store.

support gait

31 But very uncouth? sight was to behold, How he did fashion his untoward? pace, For as he forward mooved his footing old,

strange awkward

So backward still was turned his wrincled face,

Unlike to men, who ever as they trace,° Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.

walk

This was the auncient keeper of that place,

And foster father of the Gyant dead; His name

Ignaro?® did his nature right aread.°

Ignorance / declare

32

His reverend haires and holy gravitie The knight much honord, as beseeméd well,”

And gently° askt, where all the people bee, Which in that stately building wont to dwell. Who answerd him full soft, he could not tell. Againe he askt, where that same knight was layd, Whom great Orgoglio with his puissaunce fell° Had made his caytive® thrall; againe he sayde, He could not tell: ne ever other answere made.

seemed proper

courteously

fierce power captive

38

Then askéd he, which way he in might pas: He could not tell, againe he answered. 9. Alluding to “the keys of the kingdom of heaven’ (Matthew 16.19). See also Matthew 23.13 and Luke 11.52.

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Thereat the curteous knight displeaséd was, And said, “Old sire, it seemes thou hast not red® How ill it sits with® that same silver hed

recognized suits

In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee:

But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahéd With natures pen, in ages grave degree,

Aread?® in graver wise, what I demaund? of thee.”

answer / ask

a4 His answere likewise was, he could not tell.

Whose sencelesse speach, and doted® ignorance

foolish

When as the noble Prince had marked well,

He ghest his nature by his countenance, And calmd his wrath with goodly temperance. Then to him stepping, from his arme did reach Those keyes, and made himselfe free enterance.

Each dore he opened without any breach;° There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach.°

forcing hinder

35 There all within full rich arayd he found, With royal arras°® and resplendent gold,

tapestry

And did with store of every thing abound, That greatest Princes presence® might behold. But all the floore (too filthy to be told) With bloud of guiltlesse babes, and innocents trew,! Which there were slaine, as sheepe out of the fold, Defiléd was, that dreadfull was to vew, And sacred ashes over it was strowed® new.

person

strewn

36

And there beside of marble stone was built An Altare, carved with cunning imagery,” On which true Christians bloud was often spilt, And holy Martyrs often doen to dye,° put to death With cruell malice and strong tyranny: Whose blessed sprites from underneath the stone To God for vengeance cryde continually,’ And with great griefe were often heard to grone, That hardest heart would bleede, to heare their piteous mone. ou Through every rowme he sought, and every bowr, But no where could he find that wofull thrall: At last he came unto an yron doore, 1. Probably alluding to Herod’s massacre of the Innocents (Matthew 2.16), who were traditionally viewed as the first martyrs for Christ.

2. Skillfully wrought images.

3. “And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain

for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held: And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou

not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?” (Revelation 6.9-10).

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That fast was lockt, but key found not at all Emongst that bounch, to open it withall; But in the same a little grate was pight,° Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd did call

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With all his powre, to weet,° if living wight

learn

Were houséd therewithin, whom he enlargen® might.

set free

38 Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce These piteous plaints and dolours® did resound; “O who is that, which brings me happy choyce Of death,* that here lye dying every stound,° Yet live perforce in balefull® darkenesse bound? For now three Moones have changéd thrice their hew,° And have beene thrice hid underneath the ground,

laments

moment evil shape

Since I the heavens chearefull face did vew,

O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.” 29

Which when that Champion heard, with percing point Of pitty deare® his hart was thrilléd® sore, extreme / pierced And trembling horrour ran through every joynt, For ruth® of gentle knight so fowle forlore:° pity/grievously lost burst open Which shaking off, he rent® that yron dore, With furious force, and indignation fell;° Where entred in, his foot could find no flore, But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell,

fierce

That breathéd ever forth a filthie banefull smell.

40 But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands,° Nor noyous? smell his purpose could withhold, (Entire® affection hateth nicer° hands)

bonds nOXiOUS

perfect / too fastidious

But that with constant zeale, and courage bold,

After long paines and labours manifold, He found the meanes that Prisoner up to reare; Whose feeble thighes, unhable to uphold wasted His pinéd® corse, him scarse to light could beare, A ruefull spectacle of deathe and ghastly drere.° sorrow, wretchedness

41 His sad dull eyes deepe sunck in hollow pits, Could not endure th’unwonted® sunne to view;

His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,° And empty sides deceived? of their dew, Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;° His rawbone armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs°

4. 1.e., the chance or right to choose death.

unaccustomed

food cheated

to pity his lot

hbrawny muscles

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Were wont to rive steele plates, and helmets hew, Were cleane consumed, and all his vitall powres Decayd, and all his flesh shronk up like withered flowres.

42

Whom With And Who Tho®

when hasty sad to earst? when

his Lady saw, to him she ran joy: to see him made her glad, view his visage pale and wan, in flowres of freshest youth was clad. her well of teares she wasted® had,

formerly then / expended

She said, “Ah dearest Lord, what evill starre

On you hath fround, and pourd his influence bad, That of your selfe ye thus berobbéd arre, And this misseeming hew® your manly looks doth marre?

unseemly appearance

43

“But welcome now my Lord, in wele® or woe, Whose presence I have lackt to long a day;

weal, well-being

And fie on Fortune mine avowed foe,

Whose wrathfull wreakes° them selves do now alay. And for these wrongs shall treble penaunce pay Of treble good: good growes of evils priefe.”” The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,° Had no delight to treaten® of his griefe; His long enduréd famine needed more reliefe.

punishments unnerve speak

44 “Faire Lady,” then said that victorious knight,° “The things, that grievous were to do, or beare,

Them to renew,° I wote,° breeds no delight; Best musicke breeds delight in loathing eare: But th’onely good, that growes of passéd feare, Is to be wise, and ware? of like agein.

i.e., Arthur

recall / know

wary

This dayes ensample hath this lesson deare Deepe written in my heart with yron pen, That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men. 45

“Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength, And maister these mishaps with patient might; Loe® where your foe lyes stretcht in monstrous length, And loe that wicked woman in your sight, The roote of all your care, and wretched plight, Now in your powre, to let her live, or dye.” “To do her dye,” quoth Una, “were despight,°

5. Le., Fortune

will now

make

amends

for his

wrongs with triple benefits, as good comes from

evils endured (“priefe”).

6. L.e., to cause her to die would be spiteful.

look

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And shame t’avenge so weake an enimy; But spoile® her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.”

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despoil, strip

46

So as she bad, that witch they disaraid, And robd of royall robes, and purple pall,° And ornaments that richly were displaid; Ne sparéd they to strip her naked all.

scarlet cloak

Then when they had despoild her tire® and call,° robe / caul, headdress

Such as she was, their eyes might her behold, That her misshapéd parts did them appall, A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill favoured, old, Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.

47 Her craftie head was altogether bald, And as in hate of honorable eld,° Was overgrowne with scurfe® and filthy scald;’ Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld,° And her sowre breath abhominably smeld; Her driéd dugs,° like bladders lacking wind, Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld;? Her wrizled® skin as rough, as maple rind, So scabby was, that would have loathd® all womankind.

age scabs fallen

breasts welled wrinkled revolted

48 Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind,° My chaster°® Muse for shame doth blush to write;

i.e., womankind too chaste

But at her rompe she growing had behind A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight;° And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight;

covered

For one of them was like an Eagles claw,

With griping talaunts armd to greedy fight, The other like a Beares uneven® paw: More ugly shape yet never living creature saw.®

rough

49 Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,

And wondred at so fowle deformed wight. “Such then,” said Una, “as she seemeth here,

Such is the face of falshood, such the sight Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light Is laid away, and counterfesaunce® knowne.” Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight, And all her filthy feature® open showne, They let her goe at will, and wander wayes unknowne. 7. A scabby disease of the scalp. 8. The passage alludes to Revelation 17.16: “these shall hate the whore, and shall make her desolate

deceit form

and naked.” The animals associated with Duessa were emblematic: foxes of cunning, eagles and bears of rapacity, cruelty, and brutality.

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5°

She flying fast from heavens hated face, And from the world that her discovered? wide,

exposed to view

Fled to the wastfull° wildernesse apace,

desolate

From living eyes her open shame to hide, And lurkt in rocks and caves long unespide. But that faire crew® of knights, and Una faire Did in that castle afterwards abide, To rest them selves, and weary powres repaire,

company

Where store they found of all, that dainty°® was and rare.

precious

Canto 9

His loves and lignage® Arthur tells: The knights knit friendly bands:° Sir Trevisan flies from Despayre, Whom Redcrosse knight withstands.

lineage bonds

I

O goodly golden chaine,’ wherewith yfere® The vertues linkéd are in lovely wize:° And noble minds of yore allyéd were, In brave poursuit of chevalrous emprize,°

together Manner

adventure

That none did others safety despize,°

disregard begrudge

Nor aid envy° to him, in need that stands, But friendly each did others prayse devize How to advaunce with favourable hands,

As this good Prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from bands. 2

Who when their powres, empaird through labour long, With dew repast° they had recuréd?® well, And that weake captive wight now wexéd? strong, Them list° no lenger there at leasure dwell,

rest / restored waxed, grown they cared

But forward fare, as their adventures fell,

But ere they parted, Una faire besought That straunger knight his name and nation tell; Least® so great good, as he for her had wrought,

lest

Should die unknown, and buried be in thanklesse thought.

2 “Faire virgin,” said the Prince, “ye me require A thing without the compas of° my wit: For both the lignage and the certain Sire, From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit.° For all so soone as life did me admit

beyond the reach of still

9. The golden chain of love or concord that binds the world and the human race together (cf. canto 5, stanza 25, n. 3).

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Into this world, and shewéd heavens light,

From mothers pap I taken was unfit:° i.e., not yet weaned And streight delivered to a Faery knight, To be upbrought in gentle thewes° and martiall might. manners 4 “Unto old Timon! he me brought bylive,°

immediately

Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene In warlike feates th’expertest man alive, And is the wisest now on earth I weene; His dwelling is low in a valley greene, Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore,° From whence the river Dee as silver cleene® His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore:* There all my dayes he traind me up in vertuous lore.

gray pure

5

“Thither the great Magicien Merlin came, As was his use,° ofttimes to visit me:

For he had charge my discipline® to frame,° And Tutours nouriture® to oversee. Him oft and oft I askt in privitie, Of what loines and what lignage I did spring:

custom

education / direct

tutor’s upbringing

Whose aunswere bad me still assuréd bee,

That I was sonne and heire unto a king, As time in her just terme® the truth to light should bring.”

due course

6

“Well worthy impe,”° said then the Lady gent,° “And Pupill fit for such a Tutours hand.

offspring / gentle

But what adventure, or what high intent

Hath brought you hither into Faery land, Aread° Prince Arthur,’ crowne of Martiall band>”

declare

“Full hard it is,” quoth he, “to read° aright The course of heavenly cause, or understand The secret meaning of th’eternall might, That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of living wight.

discern

i

“For whither he through fatall deepe foresight,’ Me hither sent, for cause to me unghest,°

Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night Whilome? doth rancle in my riven® brest, With forced fury following his behest,° 1. The name means “honor.” 2. The hill Rauran is in Wales. The river Dee flows in, and forms part of the boundary of, Wales. The Tudors (Queen Elizabeth’s family) were originally Welsh, and the legends of Arthur had their beginnings in the Celtic mythology of early Wales.

unknown

all the while / torn

its command

3. Arthur had been named in the quatrains that precede cantos 7 and 8, but not previously in the body of the text. 4, I.e., whether God (“th’eternall might”) sent me here through foresight ordained by fate (tatall’),

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Me hither brought by wayes yet never found, You to have helpt I hold my selfe yet blest.” “Ah curteous knight,” quoth she, “what secret wound

Could ever find,° to grieve the gentlest hart on ground?”

succeed

8

“Deare Dame,” quoth he, “you sleeping sparkes awake, Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow, Ne ever will their fervent fury slake Till living moysture into smoke do flow, And wasted? life do lye in ashes low. Yet sithens® silence lesseneth not my fire, But told it flames, and hidden it does glow, I will revele, what ye so much desire: Ah Love, lay downe thy bow, the whiles I may respire.°

consumed since take breath

9

“It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares, When courage first does creepe in manly chest, Then first the coale of kindly° heat appeares To kindle love in every living brest;

natural

But me had warnd old Timons wise behest,

Those creeping flames by reason to subdew, Before their rage grew to so great unrest,

As miserable lovers use° to rew,

Which still wex® old in woe, whiles woe still wexeth new.

are accustomed

grow

IO “That idle name of love, and lovers life,

As° losse of time, and vertues enimy I ever scornd, and joyd to stirre up strife, In middest of their mournfull Tragedy, Ay° wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry, And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent:°

as being always burned

Their God himselfe, grieved at my libertie, Shot many a dart at me with fiers intent, But I them warded all with wary government.’ II

“But all in vaine: no fort can be so strong, Ne fleshly brest can arméd be so sound, But will at last be wonne with battrie® long, Or unawares at disavantage found; Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly ground: And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,

siege

And boasts, in beauties chaine not to be bound,

5. L.e., self-control. The descriptions here of Cupid’s archery and of the siege of the castle of chastity (in the next stanza) have many echoes from the medieval courtly love tradition.

THE

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CANTONS

Doth soonest fall in disaventrous? fight, And yeeldes his caytive® neck to victours most° despight.

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disastrous captive / greatest

12 “Ensample make of him your haplesse joy,’ And of my selfe now mated,’ as ye see; Whose prouder® vaunt that proud avenging boy Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertie. For on a day prickt° forth with jollitie Of looser? life, and heat of hardiment,°

Raunging the forest wide on courser® free,

i.e., Redcrosse overcome too proud spurred too loose / boldness

warhorse

The fields, the floods, the heavens with one consent

Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent.

a “For-wearied® with my sports, I did alight From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd; The verdant® gras my couch did goodly dight,° And pillow was my helmet faire displayd:

utterly wearied green / make

Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd,° And slombring soft my hart did steale away, Me seeméd, by my side a royall Mayd Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay: So faire a creature yet saw never sunny day.

14 “Most goodly glee° and lovely blandishment® — entertainment / compliment She to me made, and bad me love her deare,

For dearely sure her love was to me bent,° As when just time expiréd’ should appeare.

given

But whether dreames delude, or true it were,

Was never hart so ravisht with delight, Ne living man like words did ever heare,

As she to me delivered all that night; And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.® »

“When I awoke, and found her place devoyd,° empty And nought but presséd gras, where she had lyen, I sorrowed all so much, as earst° I joyd, previously And washéd all her place with watry eyen. From that day forth I loved that face divine; From that day forth I cast° in carefull° mind, resolved / care-filled To seeke her out with labour, and long tyne,° hardship

6. L.e., while the vaded (“embayd”) 7. A fitting length 8. Was called. In

dew (“humour”) of sleep perevery sense. of time having passed. the background are many folk-

tales and ballads of a hero bewitched by a fairy. Spenser’s Letter to Ralegh identifies Gloriana allegorically with glory and with Queen Elizabeth.

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And never vowd’ to rest, till her I find,

Nine monethes I seeke in vaine yet ni’ll° that vow unbind.”

vowed never

will not

16

Thus as he spake, his visage wexéd pale, And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;° Yet still he strove to cloke his inward bale,°

reveal grief

And hide the smoke, that did his fire display, Till gentle Una thus to him gan say; “O happy Queene of Faeries, that hast found Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound: True Loves are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.” Ey “Thine, O then,” said the gentle Redcrosse knight,

“Next to that Ladies love shalbe the place, O fairest virgin, full of heavenly light, Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race, plight Was firmest fixt in mine extremest case.° protector And you, my Lord, the Patrone® of my life, Of that great Queene may well gaine worthy grace: For onely worthy you through prowes priefe® demonstration of prowess Yf living man mote® worthy be, to be her liefe. NO may / love 18

So diversly discoursing of their loves, The golden Sunne his glistring® head gan shew,

glittering

And sad remembraunce now the Prince amoves,

With fresh desire his voyage to pursew: Als°® Una earnd? her traveill to renew. Then those two knights, fast friendship for to bynd,

also / yearned

And love establish each to other trew,

Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd, And eke as pledges firme, right hands together joynd.

19 Prince Arthur gave a boxe of Diamond sure,°

Embowd? with gold and gorgeous ornament, Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure, Of wondrous worth, and vertue® excellent,

That any wound could heale incontinent:° Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gave

true

bound

power immediately

A booke, wherein his Saveours testament

Was writ with golden letters rich and brave;° A worke of wondrous grace, and able soules to save.

splendid

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20

Thus beene they parted, Arthur on his way To seeke his love, and th’other for to fight

With Unas foe, that all her realme did pray. But she now weighing the decayed plight, And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight, Would not a while her forward course pursew, Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight, Till he recovered had his former hew:° For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew.

prey on

appearance

21

So as they traveild, lo they gan espy An arméd knight towards them gallop fast, That seeméd from some fearéd foe to fly, Or other griesly thing, that him agast.° Still° as he fled, his eye was backward cast, As if his feare still followed him behind; Als flew his steed, as he his bands had brast,° And with his wingéd heeles did tread the wind, As he had beene a fole of Pegasus his kind.’

terrified continually broken

22

Nigh as he drew, they might° perceive his head

could

To be unarmd, and curld uncombéd heares

Upstaring?® stiffe, dismayd with uncouth® dread; Nor drop of bloud in all his face appeares

bristling / strange

Nor life in limbe: and to increase his feares,

In fowle reproch® of knighthoods faire degree,° About his neck an hempen rope he weares, That with his glistring armes does ill agree; But he of rope or armes has now no memoree.

disgrace / condition

a5

The Redcrosse knight toward him crosséd fast, To weet,° what mister° wight was so dismayd: There him he finds all sencelesse and aghast, That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd; Whom hardly° he from flying forward stayd, Till he these wordes to him deliver might; “Sir knight, aread° who hath ye thus arayd,

learn / kind of

with difficulty declare

And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight: For never knight I saw in such misseeming?® plight.”

unseemly

9. l.e., as if he had been a foal of a horse like Pegasus, the flying horse of classical mythology.

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24 He answerd nought at all, but adding new Feare to his first amazment, staring wide With stony eyes, and hartlesse hollow hew,' Astonisht stood, as one that had aspide Infernall furies, with their chaines untide. Him yet againe, and yet againe bespake The gentle knight; who nought to him replide, But trembling every joynt did inly quake, And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth to shake. 25

“For Gods deare love, Sir knight, do me not stay; For loe he comes, he comes fast after mee.”

Eft° looking backe would faine have runne away; But he him forst to stay, and tellen free The secret cause of his perplexitie:° Yet nathemore® by his bold hartie speach,

again distress not at all

Could his bloud-frosen hart emboldned bee,

But through his boldnesse rather feare did reach, Yet forst, at last he made through silence suddein breach. 26

“And am I now in safetie sure,” quoth he,

“From him, that would have forcéd me to dye? And is the point of death now turnd fro mee, That I may tell this haplesse history?”° story ofmisfortune “Feare nought:” quoth he, “no daunger now is nye.” “Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,”° pitiable event Said he, “the which with this unlucky eye I late beheld, and had not greater grace Me reft® from it, had bene partaker of the place. carried 27

“T lately chaunst (Would I had never chaunst)

With a faire knight to keepen companee, Sir Terwin? hight,° that well himselfe advaunst In all affaires, and was both bold and free,

But not so happie as mote happie bee: He loved, as was his lot, a Ladie gent,° That him againe® loved in the least degree: For she was proud, and of too high intent,° And joyd to see her lover languish and lament.

I. Le., with blanched, bloodless countenance. 2. lL;l.e., shared the same fate.

named

gentle in return mind

3. His name may connote weariness or fatigue (“terwyn”).

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28 “From whom returning sad and comfortlesse,°

As on the way together we did fare, We met that villen (God from him me blesse°) That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,°’

desolate

defend a while before

A man of hell, that cals himselfe Despaire;*

Who first us greets, and after faire areedes° Of tydings strange, and of adventures rare: So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes, Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.

tells

29 “Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts Embost?® with bale,° and bitter byting griefe, Which love had launchéd? with his deadly darts,

exhausted / sorrow pierced With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe,° insult, scorn He pluckt from us all hope of due reliefe, That earst® us held in love of lingring life; formerly Then hopelesse hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe Perswade us die, to stint° all further strife: end To me he lent this rope, to him a rustie® knife. i.e., bloodstained

30 “With which sad instrument of hastie death,

That wofull lover, loathing lenger® light, A wide way made to let forth living breath.

longer

But I more fearefull, or more luckie wight,

Dismayd with that deformed dismal] sight, Fled fast away, halfe dead with dying feare:° Ne yet assur’d of life by you, Sir knight, Whose like infirmitie like chaunce may beare: But God you never let his charmed speeches heare.””

fear of death

2% “How may a man,” said he, “with idle speach Be wonne, to spoyle® the Castle of his health?”

destroy

“I wote,” quoth he, “whom triall° late did teach,

experience

That like would not? for all this worldes wealth: His subtill tongue, like dropping honny, mealt’th®

melts

Into the hart, and searcheth every vaine,

That ere one be aware, by secret stealth His powre is reft,° and weaknesse doth remaine. O never Sir desire to try° his guilefull traine.”°

taken byforce test / treachery

4. Despair is the ultimate Christian sin, denying

izing (“charméd”) speeches.

the possibility of divine mercy and grace.

6. L.e., would not do the like again.

5. Le., may God never let you hear his mesmer-

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22 “Certés,”° said he, “hence shall I never rest, Till I that treachours art have heard and tride;

And you Sir knight, whose name mote® I request, Of grace® do me unto his cabin® guide.” “T that hight® Trevisan,”” quoth he, “will ride Against my liking backe, to doe you grace:° But nor for gold nor glee® will I abide By you, when ye arrive in that same place; For lever® had I die, then® see his deadly face.” 33 Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave, Farre underneath a craggie clift ypight,°

surely might favor / cave am called a favor

rather / than

placed

Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedie grave,

That still° for carrion carcases doth crave: On top whereof aye® dwelt the ghastly Owle,’ Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave

continually ever

Farre from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;

And all about it wandring ghostes did waile and howle. ae And all about old stockes® and stubs of trees, Whereon nor fruit, nor leafe was ever seene,

Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees;° On which had many wretches hanged beene, Whose carcases were scattered on the greene, And throwne about the cliffs. Arrived there, That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene,° Would faine® have fled, ne durst approachen neare, . But th’ other forst him stay, and comforted in feare.

stumps

crags

grief

gladly

35 That darkesome cave they enter, where they find

That curséd man, low sitting on the ground, Musing full sadly in his sullein® mind; His griesie® lockes, long growen, and unbound, Disordred hong about his shoulders round, And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne Lookt deadly dull, and staréd as astound;°

His raw-bone cheekes through penurie and pine,° Were shronke into his jawes, as° he did never dine.

7. The meaning is uncertain, but may be “flight” or “dread.”

morose

gray

as ifstunned starvation

as if

8. Beauty. I.e., not for anything in the world. 9. Traditionally a messenger of death.

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His garment nought but many ragged clouts,° With thornes together pind and patchéd was, The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts; And him beside there lay upon the gras A drearie corse,° whose life away did pas, All wallowd in his owne yet luke-warme blood, That from his wound yet welléd fresh alas; In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood, And made an open passage for the gushing flood.

scraps

bloody corpse

37,

Which piteous spectacle, approving? trew

confirming

The wofull tale that Trevisan had told,

When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew, With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold, Him to avenge, before his bloud were cold,

And to the villein said, “Thou aged damnéd wight, The author of this fact,° we here behold,

deed

What justice can but judge against thee right, With thine owne bloud to price® his bloud, here shed in sight?” pay for 38

“What franticke fit,” quoth he, “hath thus distraught Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome?® to give?

judgment

What justice ever other judgement taught, But he should die, who merites not to live?

None else to death this man despayring drive,° But his owne guiltie mind deserving death. Is then unjust to each his due to give? Or let him die, that loatheth living breath? Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath?°

drove

in hardship

ao

“Who travels by the wearie wandring way, To come unto his wishéd home in haste,

And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay, Is not great grace to helpe him over past, Or free his feet, that in the myre sticke fast? Most envious man, that grieves at neighbours good, And fond,° that joyest in the woe thou hast, Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood Upon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?

40 “He there does now enjoy eternall rest And happie ease, which thou doest want and crave, And further from it daily wanderest: What if some litle paine the passage have,

foolish

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That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter wave? Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease, And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave? Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas, Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.” 41

The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit,° And said, “The terme of life is limited, Ne may a man

quick intelligence

prolong, nor shorten it;

The souldier may not move from watchfull sted,’ Nor leave his stand, untill his Captaine bed.”° “Who life did limit by almightie doome,”

commands

Quoth he, “knowes best the termes establishéd;

And he, that points the Centonell his roome,° Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.*

station

42 “Is not his deed, what ever thing is donne, In heaven and earth? did not he all create To die againe? all ends that was begonne. Their times in his eternall booke of fate Are written sure, and have their certaine® date. Who then can strive with strong necessitie, That holds the world in his still chaunging state, Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?

fixed

When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why. 43

“The lenger® life, I wote° the greater sin, The greater sin, the greater punishment:

longer / know

All those great battels, which thou boasts to win, Through strife, and bloud-shed, and avengement,

Now praysd, hereafter deare® thou shalt repent: For life must life, and bloud must bloud repay.* Is not enough thy evill life forespent?° For he, that once hath misséd the right way, The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray.

bitterly already spent

44 “Then do no further goe, no further stray, But here lie downe, and to thy rest betake, Th’ill to prevent, that life ensewen may.’ For what hath life, that may it lovéd make, 1. Despaire’s arguments on behalf of suicide as against a painful life are derived, like those of Hamlet in his third soliloquy (Hamlet 3.1.58—90), principally from Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, other ancient Stoics, and Old Testament statements on divine justice.

2. The sentry post assigned him. 3. Drum, with a pun on doom. 4. An echo of Genesis 9.6: “Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.” 5. l.e., to prevent the evil that will ensue in the rest of your life.

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And gives not rather cause it to forsake? Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife, Paine, hunger, cold, that makes the hart to quake;

And ever fickle fortune rageth rife,° All which, and thousands mo° do make a loathsome life.

widely

more

45

“Thou wretched man, of death hast greatest need, If in true ballance thou wilt weigh thy state: For never knight, that daréd warlike deede,

More lucklesse disaventures® did amate:° Witnesse the dongeon deepe, wherein of late Thy life shut up, for death so oft did call, And though good lucke prolongéd hath thy date,° Yet death then, would the like mishaps forestall, Into the which hereafter thou maiest happen fall.°

mishaps / daunt

span of life happen to fall

46

“Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire

To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree? service to sin Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire® High heapéd up with huge iniquitie, Judgment Day Against the day of wrath,° to burden thee? Is not enough that to this Ladie milde Thou falséd° hast thy faith with perjurie,° betrayed / oath-breaking vile And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vilde,° With whom in all abuse thou hast thy selfe defilde? 47

“Is not he just, that all this doth behold From highest heaven, and beares an equall® eye? Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold,° And guiltie be of thine impietie?

impartial cover

up

Is not his law, Let every sinner die:°

Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne, Is it not better to doe willinglie, Then linger, till the glasse° be all out ronne?

hourglass

Death is the end of woes: die soone, O faeries sonne.”

48 The knight was much enmoved with his speach,

That as a swords point through his hart did perse, And in his conscience made a secret breach,°

Well knowing true all, that he did reherse,° And to his fresh remembrance did reverse®

wound

recount

bring back

The ugly vew of his deformed crimes,

6. Despaire cites only half of the Scripture verse: “The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is

eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6.23).

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That all his manly powres it did disperse, As he were charméd with inchaunted rimes, That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted® oftentimes.

lost heart

49) In which amazement, when the Miscreant® Perceivéd him to waver weake and fraile,

Whiles trembling horror did his conscience dant,° And hellish anguish? did his soule assaile, To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile,°

He shewed him painted in a table® plaine, The damnéd ghosts, that doe in torments waile, And thousand feends that doe them endlesse paine

misheliever

daunt i.e., fear of hell be dismayed picture

With fire and brimstone, which for ever shall remaine.

50 The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid, That nought but death before his eyes he saw, And ever burning wrath before him laid, By righteous sentence of th’Almighties law: Then gan the villein him to overcraw,? And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, fire, And all that might him to perdition draw;

exult over

And bad him choose, what death he would desire:

For death was due to him, that had provokt Gods ire.

51 But when as none of them he saw him take,

He to him raught® a dagger sharpe and keene, And gave it him in hand: his hand did quake, And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene, And troubled bloud through his pale face was seene To come, and goe with tydings from the hart, As it a running messenger had beene. At last resolved to worke his finall smart,°

reached

pain

He lifted up his hand, that backe againe did start. 52 Which when as Una saw, through every vaine The crudled® cold ran to her well of life,°

As in a swowne: but soone relived® againe,

congealing / heart

revived

Out of his hand she snatcht the curséd knife,

And threw it to the ground, enragéd rife,°

deeply

And to him said, “Fie, fie, faint harted knight,

What meanest thou by this reprochfull® strife? Is this the battell, which thou vauntst to fight With the fire-mouthéd Dragon, horrible and bright?

deserving reproach

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53 “Come, come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight,

Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart, Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.° In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part? Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen’ art? Where justice growes, there grows eke® greater grace, The which doth quench the brond? of hellish smart, And that accurst hand-writing® doth deface.° Arise, Sir knight arise, and leave this curséd place.”

spirit

also

firebrand blot out

54

So up he rose, and thence amounted? streight. Which when the carle° beheld, and saw his guest Would safe depart, for® all his subtill sleight, He chose an halter° from among the rest, And with it hung himselfe, unbid° unblest.

mounted his horse

churl in spite of

noose unprayed for

But death he could not worke himselfe thereby; For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,° Yet nathelesse it could not doe® him die,

made ready make

Till he should die his last, that is eternally. Canto 10

Herfaithfull knight faire Una brings to house of Holinesse, Where he is taught repentance, and the way to heavenly blesse.°

bliss

I

What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might,

And vaine assurance of mortality,°

mortal life

Which all so soone, as it doth come to fight,

Against spirituall foes, yeelds by and by,’ Or from the field most cowardly doth fly?

immediately

Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill, That thorough® grace hath gained victory. If any strength we have, it is to ill, But all the good is Gods, both power and eke? will.”

7. Cf. 2 Thessalonians 2.13: “God hath from the beginning chosen you to salvation through sancti-

fication of the Spirit and belief of the truth.” This is one of several similar passages in the epistles of Saint Paul that form the basis of the theological doctrine of predestination. 8. An echo of Colossians 2.14: “Blotting out the handwriting

of ordinances

[i.e., the Old Testa-

ment Law] that was against us, which was con-

through also

trary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross.” 9. “For by grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works,

lest any man

should

boast”

(Ephesians

2.8—9); “it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure” (Philippians 2.13).

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By that, which lately hapned, Una saw, That this her knight was feeble, and too faint; And all his sinews woxen weake and raw,°

unready affliction

Through long enprisonment, and hard constraint,° Which he enduréd in his late restraint,

That yet he was unfit for bloudie fight: Therefore to cherish® him with diets daint,°

foster / choice

She cast° to bring him, where he chearen® might, _ resolved / be cheered Till he recovered had his° late decayéd plight. i.e., from his 3 There was an auntient house not farre away, Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore, And pure unspotted life: so well they say It governd was, and guided evermore, Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore;° Whose onely joy was to relieve the needes Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore: All night she spent in bidding of her bedes,° And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.

h oar,

venerable

saying prayers

4

Dame Caelia® men did her call, as thought

Heavenly

From heaven to come, or thither to arise,

The mother of three daughters, well upbrought In goodly thewes,° and godly exercise:°

habits / deeds

The eldest two most sober, chast, and wise,

Fidelia and Speranza virgins were, Though spousd,° yet wanting® wedlocks solemnize;! But faire Charissa to a lovely fere® Was linckéd, and by him had many pledges dere.?

betrothed /lacking loving mate

5 Arrived there, the dore they find fast lockt;

For it was warely watchéd night and day, For feare of many foes: but when they knockt, The Porter opened unto them streight way: He was an agéd syre, all hory gray, With lookes full lowly cast, and gate® full slow,

gait

Wont? on a staffe his feeble steps to stay, accustomed Hight Humilta.° They passe in stouping low; called Humility For streight and narrow was the way, which he did show. 1. Solemnization. 2. Le., many children. The daughters’ names mean Faith, Hope, and Charity; cf. the three Saracens: Sansfoy, Sansjoy, and Sansloy. This canto draws heavily on scriptural references, especially 1 Corinthians

13.13:

“And

now

abideth

faith,

hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” Many aspects of the House of Holiness oppose their counterparts in the House of Pride (canto 4). 3. Alluding to Matthew 7.13—14: see stanza 10, n. 9.

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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin, But entred in a spacious court they see, Both plaine, and pleasant to be walkéd in, Where them does meete a francklin‘ faire and free, And entertaines with comely courteous glee, His name was Zele,° that him right well became, For in his speeches and behaviour hee Did labour lively to expresse the same, And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came.

Zeal

i

There fairely them receives a gentle Squire, Of milde demeanure, and rare courtesie,

Right cleanly clad in comely sad° attire; In word and deede that shewed great modestie, And knew his good? to all of each degree, Hight Reverence. He them with speeches meet®

sober proper respect fitting

Does faire entreat; no courting nicetie,’ But simple true, and eke unfainéd sweet, As might become a Squire so great persons to greet.

8

And afterwards them to his Dame he leades, That agéd Dame, the Ladie of the place: Who all this while was busie at her beades: Which doen, she up arose with seemely grace, And toward them full matronely® did pace. Where when that fairest Una she beheld,

Whom well she knew to spring from heavenly race, Her hart with joy unwonted? inly sweld,° unaccustomed / swelled As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.° too weak age 9

And her embracing said, “O happie earth, Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread,

Most vertuous virgin borne of heavenly berth, That to redeeme thy woefull parents head,

From tyrans rage, and ever-dying dread,’ constant fear of death Hast wandred through the world now longa day° ~~ many a long day Yet ceasest not thy wearie soles to lead, What grace hath thee now hither brought this way? do / unwittingly Or doen” thy feeble feet unweeting® hither stray?

4. Freeholder, landowner. 5. He treats them courteously (“faire”); no courtly affectation (“nicetie”).

6. Like a matron, i.e., a woman establishment.

in charge of an

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“Strange thing it is an errant? knight to see Here in this place, or any other wight,

wandering

That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee,

That chose the narrow path, or seeke the right: All keepe the broad high way, and take delight With many rather for to go astray, And be partakers of their evill plight, Then with a few to walke the Tightest way;’ O foolish men, why haste ye to your owne decay?” II

“Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbs to rest, O matrone sage,” quoth she, “I hither came, And this good knight his way with me addrest,° Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame, That up to heaven is blowne.”* The auncient Dame Him goodly greeted in her modest guise,

directed

And entertaynd them both, as best became, With all the court’sies,° that she could devise,

Ne wanted ought,° to shew her bounteous or wise.

courtesies

nor lacked anything

12 Thus as they gan of sundry things devise,° Loe two most goodly virgins came in place, Ylinkéd arme in arme in lovely wise,°

talk loving fashion

With countenance demure, and modest grace,

They numbred even steps and equall pace: Of which the eldest, that Fidelia hight, Like sunny beames threw from her Christall face, That could have dazd° the rash beholders sight,

dazzled

And round about her head did shine like heavens light. 3

She was araiéd?® all in lilly white, And in her right hand bore a cup of gold, With wine and water? fild up to the hight,

arrayed

In which a Serpent! did himselfe enfold, That horrour made to all, that did behold;

But she no whit did chaunge her constant mood:°

expression

And in her other hand she fast did hold

7. An echo of Matthew 7.13—14: “Broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: . . . strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” 8. L.e., your praises and fame are widely celebrated

(“blazed”), reaching (“blowne”) up to heaven. 9. Signifies the sacrament of Communion. 1. A symbol of the crucified Christ (of whom the serpent lifted up by Moses, Numbers 21.9, is a recognized “type” or prefiguration),

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A booke,” that was both signd and seald with blood,

Wherein darke® things were writ, hard to be understood.?

obscure

14 Her younger sister, that Speranza hight, Was clad in blew, that her beseeméd® well;

Not all so chearefull seeméd she of sight,° As was her sister; whether dread® did dwell,

Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell: Upon her arme a silver anchor" lay, Whereon she leanéd ever, as befell:° And ever up to heaven, as she did pray, Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarvéd other way.

suited in appearance

fear

as was fitting

15

They seeing Una, towards her gan wend,° Who them encounters?® with like courtesie;

Many kind speeches they betwene them spend, And greatly joy each other well to see: Then to the knight with shamefast® modestie They turne themselves, at Unas meeke request, And him salute with well beseeming glee;° Who faire them quites,° as him beseeméd best, And goodly gan discourse of many a noble gest.°

walk meets

humble appropriate joy requites

deed

16

Then Una thus; “But she your sister deare, The deare Charissa where is she become?® Or wants? she health, or busie is elsewhere?”

gone to is lacking

“Ah no,” said they, “but forth she may not come: For she of late is lightned of her wombe, And hath encreast the world with one sonne more, 5 That her to see should be but troublesome.” “Indeede,” quoth she, “that should her trouble sore, But thankt be God, that her encrease so evermore.”® U7,

Then said the agéd Caelia, “Deare dame, And you good Sir, I wote? that of your toyle, And labours long, through which ye hither came, Ye both forwearied® be: therefore a whyle I read° you rest, and to your bowres recoyle.””

know

utterly weary counsel

Then calléd she a Groome, that forth him led

Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile®

2. l.e., the New Testament.

3. See 2 Peter 3.16, which notes that in the epistles of the apostle Paul “are some things hard to be understood.” 4. The iconographic symbol of hope.

disrobe

5. Charity, the fruitful virtue, is often depicted

as a mother with many children. 6. L.e., God be thanked, who continually increases her thus. 7. Retire to your rooms.

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comfortable understood

Of puissant armes, and laid in easie® bed;

His name was meeke Obedience rightfully aréd.° 18

Now when their wearie limbes with kindly° rest, And bodies were refresht with due repast,° Faire Una gan Fidelia faire request, To have her knight into her schoolehouse plaste,° That of her heavenly learning he might taste, And heare the wisedome of her words divine. She graunted, and that knight so much agraste,°

natural repose

placed

favored

That she him taught celestiall discipline,°

instruction

And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine. Ig

And that her sacred Booke, with bloud® ywrit, i.e., the blood of Christ That none could read, except she did them teach, bit She unto him discloséd every whit,° doctrines And heavenly documents® thereout did preach, That weaker wit® of man could never reach, Of God, of grace, ofjustice, of free will,

too weak mind

That wonder was to heare her goodly speach: For she was able, with her words to kill, And raise againe to life the hart, that she did thrill.°

pierce

20

And when she list® poure out her larger spright,? chose to / greater power She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay, Or backward turne his course from heavens hight; Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay,

Dry-shod to passe, she parts the flouds in tway;° And eke huge mountaines from their native seat

two

She would commaund, themselves to beare away,

And throw in raging sea with roaring threat. Almightie God her gave such powre, and puissance great.® 21

The faithfull knight now grew in litle space,’ By hearing her, and by her sisters lore, To such perfection of all heavenly grace,

time

That wretched world he gan for to abhore,?

And mortall life gan loath, as thing forelore,°

doomed

Greeved with remembrance of his wicked wayes,

And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore,

8. Joshua made the sun stand still (Joshua 10.12); Hezekiah made it turn backward (2 Kings 20.10). With

300 men

Gideon

was victorious over the

Midianite hosts (Judges 7.7). Moses led the Israelites through the parted waters of the Red Sea

(Exodus 14.21—31). Faith, said Christ, can move mountains (Matthew 21.21). All these are miracles of faith.

9. I.e., he began to abhor the world.

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That he desirde to end his wretched dayes: So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes. 22

But wise Speranza gave him comfort sweet,

And taught him how to take assuréd hold Upon her silver anchor, as was meet; Else had his sinnes so great, and manifold Made him forget all that Fidelia told. In this distressed doubtfull® agonie, When him his dearest Una did behold, Disdeining life, desiring leave to die, She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.°

fearful

distress

ee) And came to Caelia to declare her smart,°

Who well acquainted with that commune? plight, Which sinfull horror® workes in wounded hart,

pain

common

horror of sin

Her wisely comforted all that she might, With goodly counsell and advisement right; And streightway sent with carefull diligence, To fetch a Leach,° the which had great insight In that disease of grieved® consciénce,

doctor distressed

And well could cure the same; His name was Patiénce.

24 Who comming to that soule-diseased knight, with difficulty Could hardly? him intreat, to tell his griefe: troubled Which knowne, and all that noyd® his heavie spright Well searcht,° eftsoones® he gan apply reliefe probed / immediately Of salves and med’cines, which had passing priefe,' And thereto added words of wondrous might: By which to ease he him recuréd briefe,°

And much asswaged the passion® of his plight, That he his paine endured, as seeming now more light.

restored quickly

suffering

25 But yet the cause and root of all his ill, Inward corruption, and infected sin,’

Not purged nor heald, behind remained still, And festring sore did rankle yet within, Close® creeping twixt the marrow and the skin. Which to extirpe,° he laid him privily Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in, Whereas? he meant his corrosives to apply, And with streight® diet tame his stubborne malady.

1. Which had extraordinary power.

secretly extirpate

2. Apparently, the effects of original sin.

where strict

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26

In ashes and sackcloth? he did array His daintie corse,° proud humors? to abate,

handsome body

And dieted with fasting every day, The swelling of his wounds to mitigate, And made him pray both earely and eke late: And ever as superfluous flesh did rot Amendment readie still at hand did wayt, To pluck it out with pincers firie whot,° That soone in him was left no one corrupted jot.

hot

a7

And bitter Penance with an yron whip, Was wont him once to disple® every day: And sharpe Remorse his hart did pricke and nip, That drops of bloud thence like a well did play; And sad Repentance used to embay® His bodie in salt water smarting sore, The filthy blots of sinne to wash away.’ So in short space they did to health restore The man that would not live, but earst°® lay at deathes dore.

discipline

bathe

formerly

28

In which his torment often was so great,

That like a Lyon he would cry and rore, And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat. His own deare Una hearing evermore

His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare, For pitty of his paine and anguish sore; Yet all with patience wisely she did beare; For well she wist, his crime could else be never elenee

cleansed

29 Whom

thus recovered by wise Patiénce,

And trew Repentance they to Una brought: Who joyous of his curéd consciénce, Him dearely kist, and fairely° eke besought Himselfe to chearish,? and consuming thought To put away out of his carefull® brest. By this®° Charissa, late° in child-bed brought, Was woxen’ strong, and left her fruitfull nest;

courteously cheer; cherish

care-full

by this time / recently grown

To her faire Una brought this unacquainted guest.

3. Symbols of penitence.

Etaament.

4. Le., the bodily fluids that conduce to pride. In Renaissance physiology, the proportions of the various fluids (“humors”)

determine one’s tem-

“Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and

a anse me from my sin” (Psalms 51.2).

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30 She was a woman in her freshest age, Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie® rare, With goodly grace and comely personage,’ That was on earth not easie to compare;° Full of great love, but Cupids wanton snare

goodness appearance rival

As hell she hated, chast in worke and will;

Her necke and breasts were ever open bare, That ay° thereof her babes might sucke their fill; The rest was all in yellow robes arayeéd still.°

ever

31 A multitude of babes about her hong, Playing their sports, that joyd her to behold, Whom still she fed, whiles they were weake and young, But thrust them

forth? still, as they wexed

old:

i.e., weaned them

And on her head she wore a tyre® of gold, Adornd with gemmes and owches® wondrous faire, Whose passing® price uneath® was to be told; And by her side there sate a gentle paire

headdress

jewels

surpassing / scarcely

Of turtle doves,’ she sitting in an yvorie chaire. 35 The knight and Una entring, faire her greet, And bid her joy of that her happie brood; Who them requites with court’sies seeming meet,° And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood. Then Una her besought, to be so good, As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight,

appropriate

Now after all his torment well withstood,

In that sad° house of Penaunce, where his spright Had past® the paines of hell, and long enduring night.

solemn

passed through

33

She was right joyous of her just request, And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne,

Gan him instruct in every good behest,° Of love, and righteousness, and well to donne,’

And wrath, and hatred warely® to shonne,

comma

nd

i.e., right action warily

That drew on men Gods hatred, and his wrath,

/ destroyed misery And many soules in dolours® had fordonne:° In which when him she well instructed hath, direct From thence to heaven she teacheth him the ready° path.

6. Always. Her yellow (saffron) robe is the color of marriage, fertility, and maternity. Her chaste, fruitful love (Christian agape) is opposed to

“Cupid's wanton snare” (eros). 7. Emblem of true love and faithful marriage.

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34

Wherein his weaker® wandring steps to guide,

too weak

An auncient matrone she to her does call,

Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:°

made known

Her name was Mercie, well knowne over all,

To be both gratious, and eke liberall: To whom the carefull charge of him she gave, To lead aright, that he should never fall

In all his wayes through this wide worldés wave,° That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might save.

expanse

35

The godly Matrone by the hand him beares® Forth from her® presence, by a narrow way, Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares,° Which still before him she removed away, That nothing might his ready passage stay:°

leads i.e., Charissa’s briers

hinder

And ever when his feet encombred were,

Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray, She held him fast, and firmely did upbeare,

As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare. 26

Eftsoones unto an holy Hospitall,° That was fore® by the way, she did him bring, In which seven Bead-men’® that had vowed all Their life to service of high heavens king Did spend their dayes in doing godly thing: Their gates to all were open evermore, That by the wearie way were traveiling, And one sate wayting ever them before, To call in commers-by, that needy were and pore.®

hospice close men of prayer

37

The first of them that eldest was, and best,° Of all the house had charge and governement, As Guardian and Steward of the rest: His office® was to give entertainement And lodging, unto all that came, and went: Not unto such, as could him feast againe,°

And double quite,’ for that he on them spent, But such, as want of harbour® did constraine:° Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.

8. Le.

, one beadsman sat in front of the gates, to call in needy wayfarers.

chiefest

duty host in return

repay

shelter / afflict

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38

The second was as Almner’ of the place, His office was, the hungry for to feed, And thristy give to drinke, a worke of grace: He feard not once him selfe to be in need, Ne cared to hoord for those, whom he did breede:° —_ i.e., his children

The grace of God he layd up still in store, Which as a stocke® he left unto his seede;°

resource /children

He had enough, what need him care for more?

And had he lesse, yet some he would give to the pore.

39 The third had of their wardrobe custodie,

In which were not rich tyres,° nor garments gay, The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie, But clothes meet to keepe keene could® away, And naked nature seemely® to aray; With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad, The images of God in earthly clay; And if that no spare clothes to give he had, His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.

attire

cold decently

40

The fourth appointed by his office was, Poore prisoners to relieve with gratious ayd, And captives to redeeme with price of bras,°

payment of money

From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd;°

held captive

And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,° That God to us forgiveth every howre Much more then that, why? they in bands° were layd,

considered

And he that harrowd hell! with heavie stowre,°

—_for which /bonds assault

The faultie® soules from thence brought to his heavenly bowre. _ sinful 41

The fift had charge sicke persons to attend, And comfort those, in point of death which lay; For them most needeth comfort in the end, When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay

The feeble soule departing hence away. All is but lost, that living we bestow,° If not well ended at our dying day. O man have mind of that last bitter throw;° For as the tree does fall, so lyes it ever low.’

9. An almoner distributed charity (alms) to the poor. 1. Christ, who journeyed to hell to deliver those good people who lived before his time, according

to a story popular in the Middle Ages. It origi-

store up throes of death

nated in the apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus (cf. Piers Plowman, Passus 18). 2. “In the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be” (Ecclesiastes

11.3).

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42 The sixt had charge of them now being dead, In seemely sort their corses to engrave,°

bodies to bury

And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,

That to their heavenly spouse® both sweet and brave® They might appeare, when he their soules shall save. The wondrous workemanship of Gods owne mould,? Whose face he made, all beasts to feare,° and gave

i.e., Christ /fair

frighten

All in his hand,* even dead we honour should.

Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.°

defiled

43 The seventh now after death and buriall done,

Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead And widowes ayd, least°® they should be undone: In face of judgement? he their right would plead, Ne ought® the powre of mighty men did dread In their defence, nor would for gold or fee® Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread: And when they stood in most necessitee, He did supply their want, and gave them ever free.”

lest i.e., in court

nor at all bribe

44 There when the Elfin knight arrivéd was, The first and chiefest of the seven, whose care

Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas: Where seeing Mercie, that his steps up bare,° And alwayes led, to her with reverence rare® He humbly louted® in meeke lowlinesse, And seemely welcome for her did prepare: For of their order she was Patronesse, Albe® Charissa were their chiefest founderesse.

supported uncommon bowed

although

45

There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest, That to the rest more able he might bee: During which time, in every good behest° And godly worke of Almes and charitee

command

She him instructed with great industree;

Shortly therein so perfect he became, That from the first unto the last degree, His mortall life he learnéd had to frame In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

3. The human body is God’s own image (“mould”) and a “mould” of God’s making (see Genesis 1.26— 30.277) 4. “And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your

hand are they delivered” (Genesis 9.2). 5. Always freely. The seven beadsmen here correspond to, and perform, the seven works of charity, or corporal mercy: lodging the homeless, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, redeeming the captive, comforting the sick, burying the dead, and succoring the orphan.

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46

Thence forward by that painfull way they pas, Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy; On top whereof a sacred chappell was, And eke a litle Hermitage thereby, Wherein an agéd holy man did lye,° That day and night said his devotion, Ne other worldly busines did apply;° His name was heavenly Contemplatién; Of God and goodnesse was his meditati6n.

live

47

Great grace that old man to him given had, For God he often saw from heavens hight, All° were his earthly eyen both blunt® and bad, although / dim And through great age had lost their kindly° sight, natural Yet wondrous quick and persant® was his spright,? _ piercing / spirit As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:’ That hill they scale with all their powre and might, That his frayle thighes nigh° wearie and fordonne® almost / exhausted Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne. 48

There they do finde that godly agéd Sire, With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,

As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded. Each bone might through his body well be red,° And every sinew seene through? his long fast: For nought he cared his carcas long unfed; His mind was full of spirituall repast, And pyned’ his flesh, to keepe his body low® and chast.

seen because of starved / weak

49

Who when these two approching he aspide, At their first presence grew agrievéd sore,* That forst him lay his heavenly thoughts aside; And had he not that Dame respected more,° Whom highly he did reverence and adore, He would not once have moved for the knight. They him saluted standing far afore; Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,° And askéd, to what end they clomb® that tedious height.

greatly

away respond had climbed

50 “What end,” quoth she, “should cause us take such paine,

But that same end, which every living wight 6. Le., he did not attend to any worldly activities. 7. The eagle able to gaze directly at the sun is the symbol of Saint John the Divine, whose visions

are recorded in Revelation. 8. I.e., he was at first sorely grieved at their arrival.

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Should make his marke,° high heaven to attaine?

goal

Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right

To that most glorious house, that glistreth® bright With burning starres, and everliving fire, Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight® By wise Fidelia? she doth thee require, To shew it to this knight, according® his desire.”

glistens

entrusted granting

51

“Thrise happy man,” said then the father grave, “Whose staggering steps thy° steady hand doth lead, And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to save. Who better can the way to heaven aread®

i.e., Mercy’s

direct

Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred

In heavenly throne, where thousand Angels shine? Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead® Present before the majestie divine, And his avenging wrath to clemencie incline.

seed

52

“Yet since thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne. Then come thou man of earth,’ and see the way,

That never yet was seene of Faeries sonne, That never leads the traveiler astray,

But after labours long, and sad delay, Brings them to joyous rest and endlesse blis. But first thou must a season fast and pray, Till from her bands the spright assoiléd? is, And have her strength recured® from fraile infirmitis.”

53 That done, he leads him to the highest Mount; Such one, as that same mighty man°® of God, That bloud-red billowes like a walléd front On either side disparted® with his rod, Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,° Dwelt fortie dayes upon; where writ in stone With bloudy letters by the hand of God, The bitter doome of death and balefull mone! He did receive, whiles flashing fire about him shone.

spirit released

recovered

Moses parted asunder went

54 Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie, Adornd with fruitfull Olives all arownd,

9. An allusion to humankind’s formation from the dust of the earth (Genesis 2.7) and also to the knight’s name (see stanza 66 and n. 4).

1. Le., the Ten Commandments

(“bloudy let-

ters”) carried with them the judgment (“doome”) of death and pain, causing sorrowful moans (“balefull mone”),

THE

PAERIETOUERENE,

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a8

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10

ee)

Is, as it were for endlesse memory Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,

For ever with a flowring girlond crownd: Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay° Through famous Poets verse each where® renownd, On which the thrise three learned Ladies play Their heavenly notes, and make full many a lovely lay.?

forever

everywhere

55

From thence, far off he unto him did shew A litle path, that was both steepe and long, Which to a goodly Citie led his vew; Whose wals and towres were builded high and Of perle and precious stone,’ that earthly tong

strong

Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell;

Too high a ditty° for my simple song; The Citie of the great king hight® it well, Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.

subject is called

56

As he thereon stood gazing, he might® see The blessed Angels to and fro descend From highest heaven, in gladsome companee, And with great joy into that Citie wend,° As commonly? as friend does with his frend.* Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere, What stately building durst so high extend Her loftie towres unto the starry sphere, And what unknowen nation there empeopled were.°

could

proceed

familiarly

dwelt

“Faire knight,” quoth he, “Hierusalem that is, The new Hierusalem, that God has built For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,

His chosen people purged from sinfull guilt, With pretious bloud, which cruelly was spilt On curséd tree, of that unspotted lam,’ That for the sinnes of all the world was kilt:

Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,° More deare unto their God, then younglings to their dam.”°

2. Song. The mountain is successively compared

and behold

to Mount

descending on it” (Genesis 28.12).

Sinai, where Moses, after parting the

“bloud-red billowes” (stanza 53) of the Red Sea, received the tablets of the Ten Commandments; to the Mount of Olives, associated with Christ; and to Mount Parnassus, where the Nine Muses

of art and poetry dwelt. 3. Cf. Revelation 21.10—21. 4. Cf. Jacob’s ladder, which “reached to heaven;

together

the angels of God ascending and

5. Christ (the lamb of God), whose death on the Cross (“curséd tree”) purged the guilt of sin from “His chosen people.” 6. Than offspring to their mother. The New Jerusalem is described in Revelation 21—22; cf. “the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it” (21.24).

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58

“Till now,” said then the knight, “I weenéd? well,

supposed

That great Cleopolis,’ where I have beene, In which that fairest Faerie Queene doth dwell, The fairest Citie was, that might be seene;

And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,° clear Panthea,® seemd the brightest thing, that was: But now by proofe® all otherwise I weene; experience For this great Citie that? does far surpas, And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.” 59

“Most trew,” then said the holy aged man; “Yet is Cleopolis for earthly frame,°

structure

The fairest peece,° that eye beholden can:

masterpiece

And well beseemes? all knights of noble name, That covet in th’immortall booke of fame

becomes

To be eternizéd, that same to haunt,°

frequent

And doen their service to that soveraigne Dame, That glorie does to them for guerdon® graunt: For she is heavenly borne, and heaven may justly vaunt.!

reward

60

“And thou faire ymp,° sprong out from English race, How ever now accompted?® Elfins sonne, Well worthy doest thy service for her grace,° To aide a virgin desolate foredonne.°

youth accounted favor undone

But when thou famous victorie hast wonne,

And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield, Thenceforth the suit® of earthly conquest shonne,° pursuit / shun And wash thy hands from guilt of bloudy field: For bloud can nought but sin, and wars but sorrowes yield. 61

“Then seeke this path, that I to thee presage,° Which after all to heaven shall thee send; Then peaceably thy painefull® pilgrimage To yonder same Hierusalem do bend, Where is for thee ordaind a blesséd end:

show prophetically

laborious

For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see, Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend

And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt calléd bee, Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.”2 7. City of Fame; in the historical allegory, London or Westminster.

8. Reminiscent of the temple of glass in Chaucer’s House of Fame; perhaps intended to allude to Westminster Abbey as pantheon of the English great.

9. l.e., the New Jerusalem far surpasses Cleopolis (“that”).

1. Le., may justly boast (“vaunt”) that heaven is her home. 2. Spenser's conception of Saint George, patron saint of England, draws on the Legenda Aurea

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62

“Unworthy wretch,” quoth he, “of so great grace, How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?” “These that have it attaind, were in like cace,” Quoth he, “as wretched, and lived in like paine.” “But deeds of armes must I at last be faine,°

And Ladies love to leave so dearely bought?” “What need of armes, where peace doth ay° remaine,”

content (to leave)

ever

Said he, “and battailes none are to be fought?

As for loose® loves are® vaine, and vanish into nought.”

wanton /i.e., they are

63 “O let me not,” quoth he, “then turne againe Backe to the world, whose joyes so fruitlesse are; But let me here for aye in peace remaine, Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,° That nothing may my present hope empare.”° “That may not be,” said he, “ne maist thou yit Forgo that royall maides bequeathéd care,° Who did her cause into thy hand commit, Till from her curséd foe thou have her freely quit.”®

travel impair

charge released

64 “Then shall I soone,” quoth he, “so God me grace, Abet® that virgins cause disconsolate, And shortly backe returne unto this place To walke this way in Pilgrims poore estate.

maintain

But now aread,° old father, why of late

declare

Didst thou behight° me borne of English blood, Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate?”°

call name

“That word shall I,” said he, “avouchen® good,

prove

Sith° to thee is unknowne the cradle of thy brood.

since

65 “For well I wote,? thou springst from ancient race Of Saxon kings, that have with mightie hand And many bloudie battailes fought in place® High reard their royall throne in Britane land, And vanquisht them,°

unable

to withstand:

know there i.e., the ancient Britons

From thence a Faerie thee unweeting reft,°

There as thou slepst in tender swadling band, And her base Elfin brood? there for thee left. Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaungd by Faeries theft.

(The Golden Legend, a medieval manual of ecclesiastical lore, translated into English by William Caxton in 1487) and on pictures, tapestries,

secretly stole

offspring

pageants, and folklore. 3. The place from which your race derives.

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66

“Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond, And in an heapéd furrow did thee hyde, Where thee a Ploughman all unweeting fond,° inadvertently found As he his toylesome teme® that way did guyde, team ofoxen And brought thee up in ploughmans state to byde, Whereof Georgos he thee gave to name;* Till prickt® with courage, and thy forces pryde, spurred To Faery court thou cam’st to seeke for fame, And prove thy puissaunt® armes, as seemes thee best became.” _powerful

67 “O holy Sire,” quoth he, “how shall I quight°

repay

The many favours I with thee have found,

That hast my name and nation red° aright, And taught the way that does to heaven bound?”® This said, adowne he looked to the ground,

declared go

To have returnd, but dazéd° were his eyne,

dazzled

Through passing® brightnesse, which did quite confound His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne. So darke are earthly things compard to things divine.

__ surpassing

68

At last whenas?® himselfe he gan to find,° To Una back he cast him to retire;°

Who him awaited still with pensive® mind. Great thankes and goodly meed? to that good syre, He thence departing gave for his paines hyre.° So came to Una, who him joyd to see,

when / recover resolved to return

anxious gift reward

And after litle rest, gan him desire,

Of her adventure mindfull for to bee. So leave they take of Caelia, and her daughters three. Canto 11

The knight with that old Dragon fights two dayes incessantly:

The third him overthrowes, and gayns most glorious victory. I

High time now gan it wex® for Una faire, To thinke of those her captive Parents deare, And their forwasted kingdome to repaire:° Whereto whenas they now approachéd neare, With hartie° words her knight she gan to cheare, 4. l.e., as a name. “Georgos”: farmer (Greek); cf. Virgil’s Georgics, on farming. 5. As best suited you.

grow

bold

6. L.e., to restore their kingdom, laid waste (by the dragon). :

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And in her modest manner thus bespake; “Deare knight, as deare, as ever knight was deare, That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake, High heaven behold the tedious toyle, ye for me take. 2

“Now are we come unto my native soyle, And to the place, where all our perils dwell; Here haunts that feend,° and does his dayly spoyle,

Therefore henceforth be at your keeping well,° And ever ready for your foeman fell.° The sparke of noble courage now awake, And strive your excellent selfe to excell; That shall ye evermore renowméd make, Above all knights on earth, that batteill undertake.”

frend

be well on your guard fierce

3

And pointing forth, “lo yonder is,” said she, “The brasen towre in which my parents deare For dread of that huge feend emprisond be, Whom I from far see on the walles appeare, Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare: And on the top of all I do espye The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare, That O my parents might I happily Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery.” 4

With that they heard a roaring hideous sound, That all the ayre with terrour filled wide, And seemd uneath? to shake the stedfast ground. Eftsoones° that dreadfull Dragon they espide, Where stretcht he lay upon the sunny side Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill.

almost

immediately

But all so soone, as he from far descride

Those glistring armes, that heaven with light did fill, He rousd himselfe full blith,? and hastned them untill.°

joyfully / toward

>

Then bad? the knight his Lady yede?® aloofe,

bade / go

And to an hill her selfe withdraw aside,

From whence she might behold that battailles proof® outcome And eke? be safe from daunger far descryde:° also / observed from afar She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.° aside Now O thou sacred Muse, most learned Dame,

Faire ympe® of Phoebus, and his agéd bride,’ The Nourse of time, and everlasting fame, That warlike hands ennoblest with immortall name; 7. l.e., Mnemosyne (memory), mother of the Muses.

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O gently come into my feeble brest, Come gently, but not with that mighty rage, Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,°

And harts of great Heroes doest enrage, That nought their kindled courage may aswage,° Soone as thy dreadfull trompe® begins to sownd; The God of warre with his fiers equipage®

arouse

allay

trumpet

military equipment

Thou doest awake, sleepe never he so sownd, And scaréd nations doest with horrour sterne astown

appall

7

Faire Goddesse lay that furious fit® aside, Till I of warres and bloudy Mars do sing,* And Briton fields with Sarazin° bloud bedyde,° Twixt that great faery Queene and Paynim® king, That with their horrour heaven and earth did ring, A worke of labour long, and endlesse prayse: But nowa while let downe that ECR string, And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,’ That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.°

strain

Saracen / dyed pagan

proclaim

8 By this the dreadfull Beast drew nigh to hand, Halfe flying, and halfe footing? in his hast, That with his largenesse measured much land, And made wide shadow under his huge wast;° As mountaine doth the valley overcast. Approching nigh, he rearéd high afore His body monstrous, horrible, and vast, Which to increase his wondrous greatnesse more, Was swolne with wrath, and poyson, and with lomdy gore.

walking girth

9 And over, all with brasen scales was armd,

Like plated coate of steele, so couchéd neare,° placed so closely That nought mote perce,' ne might his corse® be harmd body With dint of sword, nor push of pointed speare; Which as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare, His aery Plumes doth rouze,° full rudely dight,? shake / ruggedly arrayed So shaked he, that horrour was to heare,

For as the clashing of an Armour bright, Such noyse his rouzed scales did send unto the knight.

8. Perhaps a reference to a projected but unwrit-

ten book of The Faerie Queene. 9. The high-pitched (“haughtie”) mode would be

appropriate

to a large-scale epic war, a lower

pitch (“second tenor”) suits this present battle. 1. Nothing might pierce.

GE

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His flaggy° wings when forth he did display, Were like two sayles, in which the hollow wynd Is gathered full, and worketh speedy way: And eke the pennes, that did his pineons bynd, Were like mayne-yards, with flying canvas lynd,? With which whenas him list® the ayre to beat,

And there by force unwonted? passage find, The cloudes before him fled for terrour great, And all the heavens stood still amazéd with his threat.

d rooping

he chose unaccustomed

II

His huge long tayle wound up in hundred foldes, Does overspred his long bras-scaly backe, Whose wreathéd boughts® when ever he unfoldes, And thicke entangled knots adown does slacke, Bespotted as with shields° of red and blacke, It sweepeth all the land behind him farre, And of three furlongs? does but litle lacke; And at the point two stings in-fixéd arre, Both deadly sharpe, that sharpest steele exceeden farre.

coils scales

12

But stings and sharpest steele did far exceed® _i.e., were far exceeded by The sharpnesse of his cruell rending clawes; Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed,° in its effect What ever thing does touch his ravenous pawes, Or what within his reach he ever drawes. But his most hideous head my toung to tell Does tremble: for his deepe devouring jawes Wide gapéd, like the griesly° mouth of hell, horrid Through which into his darke abisse all ravin?® fell. prey; booty 13 And that® more wondrous was, in either jaw Three ranckes of yron teeth enraungéd® were, In which yet trickling bloud and gobbets raw°®

Of late° devoured bodies did appeare, That sight thereof bred cold congealed feare:

what

arranged chunks ofunswallowed food recently

Which to increase, and all at once to kill,

A cloud of smoothering smoke and sulphur seare® Out of his stinking gorge® forth steeméd still, That all the ayre about with smoke and stench did fill.

2. Le., the ribs of his wings were like the massive spars (main yards) to which a ship's mainsail is

affixed. 3. Le., three-eighths of a mile.

burning maw

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14 His blazing eyes, like two bright shining shields, Did burne with wrath, and sparkled living fyre; As two broad Beacons, set in open fields,

Send forth their flames farre off to every shyre,° And warning give, that enemies conspyre, With fire and sword the region to invade; So flamed his eyne® with rage and rancorous yre:°

shire

eyes / ire, anger

But farre within, as in a hollow glade, Those glaring lampes were set, that made a dreadfull shade.

ie]

So dreadfully he towards him did pas, Forelifting up aloft his speckled brest, And often bounding on the bruséd gras, As for great joyance of his newcome guest. Eftsoones he gan advance his haughtie crest, As chaufféd° Bore his bristles doth upreare, And shoke his scales to battell readie drest;°

angry

prepared

That made the Redcrosse knight nigh quake for feare, As bidding bold defiance to his foeman neare. 16

The knight gan fairely couch? his steadie speare, And fiercely ran at him with rigorous® might: The pointed steele arriving rudely° theare, His harder hide would neither perce, nor bight, But glauncing by forth passed forward right; Yet sore amoved with so puissant push, The wrathfull beast about him turnéd light,° And him so rudely passing by, did brush With his long tayle, that horse and man to ground did rush.

level violent

roughly

quickly

V7

Both horse and man up lightly rose againe, And fresh encounter towards him addrest: But th’idle® stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine, And found no place his° deadly point to rest. Exceeding rage enflamed the furious beast, To be avengéd of so great despight;° For never felt his imperceable brest

useless its

outrage

So wondrous force, from hand of living wight;

Yet had he proved® the powre of many a puissant knight.

tested

18

Then with his waving wings displayed wyde, Himselfe up high he lifted from the ground, And with strong flight did forcibly divide The yielding aire, which nigh® too feeble found

nearly

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Her flitting® partes, and element unsound,° moving / weak To beare so great a weight: he cutting way With his broad sayles, about him soaréd round: At last low stouping with unweldie sway,° ponderous force Snatcht up both horse and man, to beare them quite away. 7

Long he them bore above the subject plaine,° So farre as Ewghen® bow a shaft may send, Till struggling strong did him at last constraine,

i.e., the ground below yewen, of yew

To let them downe before his flightés end: As hagard® hauke presuming to contend

untamed

With hardie fowle, above his hable might,°

able power

His wearie pounces? all in vaine doth spend, To trusse® the pray too heavie for his flight; Which comming downe to ground, does free it selfe by fight.

claws seize

20 He so disseizéd of his gryping grosse,? The knight his thrilant® speare againe assayd In his bras-plated body to embosse,° And three mens strength unto the stroke he layd; Wherewith the stiffe beame quakéd, as affrayd, And glauncing from his scaly necke, did glyde

piercing plunge

Close under his left wing, then broad displayd.

The percing steele there wrought a wound full wyde, That with the uncouth® smart the Monster lowdly cryde.

unfamiliar

21

He cryde, as raging seas are wont? to rore,

When wintry storme his wrathfull wreck® does threat, The rolling billowes beat the ragged shore, As° they the earth would shoulder® from her seat, And greedie gulfe° does gape, as he would eat His neighbour element?® in his revenge:

accustomed ruin

as if /push i.e., the sea i.e., earth

Then gin the blustring brethren® boldly threat, the winds To move the world from off his stedfast henge,° axis And boystrous battell make, each other to avenge.° _ take vengeance on 22

The steely head stucke fast still in his flesh, Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the wood, And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed fresh A gushing river of blacke goarie® blood, That drownéd all the land, whereon he stood; The stream thereof would drive a water-mill. Trebly augmented was his furious mood

4. Freed from his formidable grip.

clotted

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With bitter sense of his deepe rooted ill,° That flames of fire he threw forth from his large nosethrill.°

23 His hideous tayle then hurléd he about, And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes° Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout Striving to loose the knot, that fast him tyes, Himselfe in streighter° bandes too rash implyes,’ That to the ground he is perforce® constraynd To throw his rider: who can® quickly ryse

injury nostril

thighs

tighter of necessity

From off the earth, with durty bloud distaynd,°

did defiled

For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd.°

resented

24 And fiercely tooke his trenchand?® blade in hand,

sharp fiercely

With which he stroke so furious and so fell,°

That nothing seemd the puissance could withstand: Upon his crest the hardned yron fell, But his more hardned crest was armd so well,

That deeper dint therein it would not make;° Yet so extremely did the buffe° him quell,°

blow / dismay

That from thenceforth he shund the like to take, But when he saw them come, he did them still forsake.°

avoid

a

The knight was wrath to see his stroke beguyld,° And smote againe with more outrageous might; But backe againe the sparckling steele recoyld, And left not any marke, where it did light; As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight.°

foiled

struck against

The beast impatient of his smarting wound,

And of so fierce and forcible despight,° Thought with his wings to stye° above the ground; But his late wounded wing unserviceable found.

powerful injury mount

26

Then full of griefe and anguish vehement, He lowdly brayd, that like was never heard, And from his wide devouring oven sent A flake of fire, that flashing in his beard, Him all amazd, and almost made affeard;

The scorching flame sore swingéd? all his face, And through his armour all his bodie seard, That he could not endure so cruell cace,?

But thought his armes to leave, and helmet to unlace.

5. L.e., too quickly entangles.

singed plight; suit of armor

6. L.e., it could not make a deep gash there.

THE

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QUEENE,

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27 Not that great Champion of the antique world,° Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt,

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i.e, Hercules

And hath for twelve huge labours high extold, So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt, When him the poysoned garment did enchaunt With Centaures bloud, and bloudie verses charmed,

As did this knight twelve thousand dolours® daunt, Whom

fyrie steele now burnt, that earst® him armed,

pains

formerly

That erst him goodly armed, now most of all him harmed.” 28

Faint, wearie, sore, emboyléd,° grievéd, brent®

boiled; enraged / burned

With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire That never man such mischiefes° did torment; misfortunes Death better were, death did he oft desire,

But death will never come, when needes require. Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld, He cast to suffer° him no more respire,° But gan his sturdie sterne® about to weld,° And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.

allow / live tail / lash

29 It fortunéd (as faire it then befell) Behind his backe unweeting,° where he stood, Of auncient time there was a springing well, From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,

Full of great vertues,° and for med’cine good. Whylome,’ before that curséd Dragon got That happie land, and all with innocent blood Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot°

unnoticed

powers formerly was called

The Well of Life,*® ne yet his vertues had forgot. 30 For unto life the dead it could restore,

And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away, Those that with sicknesse were infected sore,

It could recure, and agéd long decay Renew, as one were borne that very day. Both Silo this, and Jordan did excell,

And th’English Bath, and eke the german Spau,

7. Redcrosse’s fire baptism is compared with the burning shirt of Nessus, which killed Hercules. His “twelve huge labours” are paralleled to the

and of the Lamb. In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits,

knight’s “twelve thousand dolours.” 8. An allusion to Revelation 22.1—2: “And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God

and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.”

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Ne can Cephise, nor Hebrus match this well: Into the same the knight backe overthrowen, fell.”

31 Now gan the golden Phoebus for to steepe His fierie face in billowes of the west, And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,

Whiles from their journall° labours they did rest, When that infernall Monster, having kest°

His wearie foe into that living well, Can® high advaunce his broad discoloured brest, Above his wonted pitch,° with countenance fell,° And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.°

daily cast

did height / sinister remain

32

Which when his pensive® Ladie saw from farre, Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,°

As weening?® that the sad end of the warre, And gan to highest God entirely° pray, That fearéd chaunce® from her to turne away; With folded hands and knees full lowly bent All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,°

anxious

assail

thinking earnestly fate

dismal condition

But praying still did wake, and waking did lament. 55

The morrow next gan early to appeare, That° Titan® rose to runne his daily race; But early ere the morrow next gan reare Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face, Up rose the gentle virgin from her place, And looked all about, if she might spy Her loved knight to move® his manly pace: For she had great doubt of his safety, Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.

when / the sun god

i.€., moving

34

At last she saw, where he upstarted brave Out of the well, wherein he drenchéd lay; As Eagle fresh out of the Ocean wave, Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray, And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay, Like Eyas hauke® up mounts unto the skies, His newly budded pineons to assay,°

unfledged hawk test

9. The Well of Life, with its powers of renewal, is successively compared with waters of the Bible, of England and Europe, and of classical antiquity. In the pool of Siloam (“Silo”), a blind

5.14) and Christ was baptized therein (Matthew 3.16). The towns of Bath and Spa (“Spau”) were famed for their medicinal waters. Cephise and

man was cured by Christ (John 9.7). Water of the river Jordan cured Naaman of leprosy (2 Kings

ing and healing powers.

Hebrus, in Greece, were rivers noted for purify-

HE

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And marveiles at himselfe, still as he flies:

So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise. 35

Whom when the damnéd feend so fresh did spy, No wonder if he wondred at the sight,

And doubted, whether his late enemy It were, or other new suppliéd knight. He, now to prove® his late renewéd might, High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade, Upon his crested scalpe so sore did smite, That to the scull a yawning wound it made: The deadly dint° his dulléd senses all dismaid.

try

blow

36

I wote® not, whether the revenging steele Were hardnéd with that holy water dew, Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele, Or his baptizéd hands now greater® grew;

know stronger

Or other secret vertue® did ensew;

power

Else never could the force of fleshly arme, Ne molten mettall in his bloud embrew:° For till that stownd® could never wight him harme, By subtilty, nor slight,°? nor might, nor mighty charme.

plunge moment trickery

37

The cruell wound enragéd him so sore, That loud he yelléd for exceeding paine; As hundred ramping® Lyons seemed to rore, Whom ravenous hunger did thereto constraine: Then gan he tosse aloft his stretchéd traine,° And therewith scourge the buxome’? aire so sore, That to his force to yeelden it was faine;° Ne ought his sturdie strokes might stand afore,! That high trees overthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.

rearing tail yielding

obliged

38

The same advauncing high above his head, With sharpe intended? sting so rude® him smot,

_ extended / roughly

That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead,

Ne living wight would have him life behot:? The mortall sting his angry needle shot Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd, Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got: The griefe° thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,°

pain / afflicted

Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.

1. I.e., neither could anything (“ought”) stand

2. Promised. I.e., no one would have thought he

before his violent (“sturdie”) strokes.

could survive the blow.

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39

But yet more mindfull of his honour deare, Then? of the grievous smart, which him did wring,° than / torment From loathéd soile he can° him lightly reare, did And strove to loose the farre infixéd sting: Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling, Inflamed with wrath, his raging blade he heft,° heaved And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string Of his huge taile he quite a sunder cleft, Five joynts thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.

40 Hart cannot thinke, what outrage,° and what cryes,

violent clamor

With foule enfouldred? smoake and flashing fire, The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skyes, That all was coveréd with darknesse dire: Then fraught® with rancour, and engorgéd? ire, He cast at once him to avenge for all,

filled / swollen

And gathering up himselfe out of the mire, With his uneven wings did fiercely fall Upon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall.

41 Much was the man encombred with his hold,

In feare to lose his weapon in his paw, Ne wist°® yet, how his talents° to unfold;

Nor harder was from Cerberus? greedie jaw To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw To reave® by strength the gripéd gage® away: Thrise he assayd?® it from his foot to draw, And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay, It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.

knew / talons

seize / prize tried

42 Tho® when he saw no power might prevaile,

then

His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,

Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile, And double blowes about him stoutly laid, That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid; As sparckles from the Andvile® use to fly, When heavie hammers on the wedge are swaid;° Therewith at last he forst him to unty°® One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

anvil struck loosen

43

The other foot, fast fixed on his shield, Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote® him constraine 3. Black as a thundercloud.

might

4. The dog that guards the mouth of Hades.

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To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield, He smot thereat with all his might and maine,’ That nought so wondrous puissance might sustaine; Upon the joynt the lucky steele did light, And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine; The paw yet misséd not his minisht° might, But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.°

bs

strength

lessened

placed

44 For griefe° thereof, and divelish despight, From his infernall fournace forth he threw Huge flames, that dimméd all the heavens light, Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew; As burning Aetna? from his boyling stew° Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke, And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke,

pain

cauldron

That all the land with stench, and heaven with horror choke. 45

The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence So sore him noyd,° that forst him to retire

troubled

A little backward for his best defence,

To save his bodie from the scorching fire, Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.° It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide) As he recoyléd backward, in the mire

breathe out

His nigh forwearied® feeble feet did slide, And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.

exhausted

46

There grew a goodly tree him faire beside, Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red, As they in pure vermilion had beene dide, Whereof great vertues over all were red:° For happie life to all, which thereon fed, And life eke everlasting did befall: Great God it planted in that blessed sted° With his almightie hand, and did it call

everywhere were told

place

The Tree of Life, the crime of our first fathers fall.° 47 In all the world like was not to be found,

Save in that soile, where all good things did grow,

5. Mount Etna, an active volcano in Sicily. 6. Genesis 2.9 describes the Tree of Life and also

eating of the second and being banished from Eden, separated himself—and (according to

the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, both of

Christian

which God planted in the Garden of Eden. The

first. The Tree of Life appears again in the New

“crime of our first fathers fall” is that Adam,

Jerusalem (Revelation 22.2).

in

doctrine)

his descendants—from

the

394

EDMUND

SPENSER

And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground, As incorrupted Nature did them sow, Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow. Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones® did know

soon after

Both good and ill: O mornefull memory: That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy. °

i.e, killed us

48 From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine® And daintie deare,? which on the ground still fell,

powerful for cures

And overflowéd all the fertill plaine, As it had deawéd bene with timely°® raine: Life and long health that gratious° ointment gave,

And deadly woundes could heale, and reare® againe The senselesse corse appointed? for the grave.

precious

seasonable full of grace

raise made ready

Into that same he fell: which did from death him save.’

49 For nigh thereto the ever damnéd beast Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,° i.e. a child of death And all that life preserved, did detest: Yet he it oft adventured? to invade. attempted By this the drouping day-light gan to fade, And yeeld his roome® to sad succeeding? night, its place /following after Who with her sable mantle gan to shade The face of earth, and wayes of living wight, And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright. 5°

When gentle Una saw the second fall Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight, And faint through losse of bloud, moved not at all, But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight, Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,® Againe she stricken was with sore affright, And for his safetie gan devoutly pray; And watch the noyous? night, and wait for joyous day.

noxious

51

The joyous day gan early to appeare, And faire Aurora from the deawy bed Of agéd Tithone gan her selfe to reare,? 7. The healing balm flowing from the Tree of

that overcometh shall not be hurt of the second

Life is understood to be Christ’s blood, shed to

death” (i.e., the eternal death, of the soul).

8. Cf. Revelation 2.7: “To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life” and 2.11; “He

her husband (“agéd” because he was granted everlasting life without everlasting youth).

redeem humankind from eternal damnation.

9. Aurora is goddess of the dawn. Tithonus is

THESE

ERIE

OUERENE,

(BO OKaleCAINTO

lil

SERS)

With rosie cheekes, for shame as blushing red; Her golden lockes for haste were loosely shed About her eares, when Una her did marke

Clymbe to her charet,° all with flowers spred, From heaven high to chase the chearelesse darke; With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.

chariot

52 Then freshly up arose the doughtie® knight, All healéd of his hurts and woundes wide, And did himselfe to battell readie dight;° Whose early foe awaiting him beside To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde, When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,°

valiant

prepare

injured

He woxe® dismayd, and gan his fate to feare; grew Nathlesse°® with wonted® rage he him advauncéd neare. nevertheless / usual es)

And in his first encounter, gaping wide, He thought attonce him to have swallowed quight, And rusht upon him with outragious pride; Who him r’encountring fierce, as hauke in flight, Perforce rebutted® backe. The weapon bright Taking advantage of his open jaw, Ran through his mouth with so importune® might, That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,° And back retyrd,! his life bloud forth with all did draw.

drove violent throat

54

So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath, That vanisht into smoke and cloudeés swift; So downe he fell, that th’earth him underneath

Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift; So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift, Whose false® foundation waves have washt away,

insecure

With dreadfull poyse® is from the mayneland rift, _falling weight / split And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay; So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay. 55

The knight himselfe even trembled at his fall, So huge and horrible a masse it seemed; And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,

Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeemed,° But yet at last, when as the direfull feend She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright, She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end: 1. Le., on being drawn back.

misjudged

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Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight, That had atchiev’d so great a conquest by his might. Canto 12

Faire Una to the Redcrosse knight betrouthéd is with joy: Though false Duessa it to barre her false sleights doe imploy. I

Behold I see the haven nigh at hand, To which I meane my wearie course to bend; Vere the maine shete, and beare up with the land,* The which afore is fairely to be kend,°

recognized

And seemeth safe from stormes, that may offend;

There this faire virgin wearie of her way Must landed be, now at her journeyes end: There eke® my feeble barke® a while may stay, Till merry°® wind and weather call her thence away.

also / ship favorable

2

Scarsely had Phoebus in the glooming East° Yet harnesséd his firie-footed teeme,

i.e., dawn

Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast,°

When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme, That signe of last outbreathéd life did seeme Unto the watchman on the castle wall; Who thereby dead that balefull® Beast did deeme And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call, To tell, how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.

crest

,

evil

2 Uprose with hastie joy, and feeble speed That agéd Sire, the Lord of all that land, And lookéd forth, to weet,° if true indeede

Those tydings were, as he did understand, Which whenas true by tryall he out fond, He bad°® to open wyde his brazen gate, Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond® Proclayméd joy and peace through all his state; For dead now was their foe, which them forrayéd late. 4

Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie, That sent to heaven the ecchoed report 2. Release the mainsail line and sail toward the

land, The nautical metaphor echoes many classical authors and Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde

(A= 7),

3. Had recently ravaged.

know

bade straightaway

THEVFAERIETOUBENE,

BOOK

TE TGANTO

Of their new joy, and happie victorie Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort,° And fast imprisonéd in siegéd fort. Then all the people, as in solemne feast, To him assembled with one full consort,° Rejoycing at the fall of that great beast, From whose eternal] bondage now they were releast.

«12

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wrong

all together

5

Forth came that auncient Lord and agéd Queene, Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground, And sad habiliments right well beseene;* A noble crew about them waited round Of sage and sober Peres,° all gravely gownd; Whom farre before did march a goodly band Of tall young men, all hable armes to sownd,”* But now they laurell braunches bore in hand; Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land.

peers

6

Unto that doughtie Conquerour they came, And him before themselves prostrating low, Their Lord and Patrone® loud did him proclame,

And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw. Soone after them all dauncing on a row The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,° As fresh as flowres in medow greene do grow, When morning deaw upon their leaves doth light: And in their hands sweet Timbrels® all upheld on hight.

defender

adorned

tambourines

Z,

And them before, the fry° of children young Their wanton” sports and childish mirth did play, And to the Maydens sounding tymbrels sung In well attunéd notes, a joyous lay,° And made delightfull musicke all the way,

crowd

playful song

Untill they came, where that faire virgin stood; As faire Diana® in fresh sommers day goddess of the hunt ranged Beholds her Nymphes, enraunged? in shadie wood, Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood.

8

So she beheld those maydens meriment With chearefull vew; who when to her they came, humility Themselves to ground with gratious humblesse® bent, And her adored by honorable name,° with titles of honor Lifting to heaven her everlasting fame: 4. l.e., sober, appropriate (“right well beseene”) attire.

5. Able to fight with weapons.

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Then on her head they set a girland greene, And crownéd her twixt earnest and twixt game:° Who in her selfe-resemblance well beseene,°® Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene. y) And after all, the raskall many® ran, Heapéd together in rude rablement,° To see the face of that victorious man: Whom all admiréd,° as from heaven sent,

i.e., half in fun

rabble throng confusion wondered at

And gazd upon with gaping wonderment. But when they came, where that dead Dragon lay,

Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent, The sight with idle° feare did them dismay, Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay. fo}

baseless venture

to

fe)

Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd;° One that would wiser seeme, then all the rest,

Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd Some lingring life within his hollow brest, Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest Of many Dragonets,° his fruitfull seed; Another said, that in his eyes did rest Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed; Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed.

concealed

young dragons

II

One mother, when as her foolehardie chyld Did come too neare, and with his talants° play, talons Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe revyld,° scolded And to her gossips° gan in counsell® say; women friends / private “How can I tell, but that his talants may Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?” So diversly themselves in vaine they fray;° frighten Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand, To prove® how many acres he did spread of land. determine 12

Thus flocked all the folke him round about,

The whiles that hoarie® king, with all his traine, Being arrived, where that champion stout After his foes defeasance® did remaine,

Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine, With princely gifts of yvorie and gold, And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine. Then when his daughter deare he does behold, Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.° 6. l.e., looking appropriately like herself.

gray-haired defeat

many times

DHE

EXERIE

QUEENIE,

BOOK]

GANTON

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And after to his Pallace he them brings, With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions’ sweet; And all the way the joyous people sings, And with their garments strowes the paved street: Whence mounting up, they find purveyance® meet provisions Of all, that royall Princes court became,° suited And all the floore was underneath their feet Bespred with costly scarlot of great name,° i.e., famous scarlet cloth On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame.®

14 What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize,° In which was nothing riotous nor vaine? What needs of daintie dishes to devize,°

behavior talk

Of comely® services, or courtly trayne?° becoming / assembly My narrow leaves cannot in them containe The large discourse® of royall Princes state. i.e., full description Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine: For th’antique world excesse and pride did hate; Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late.° just recently

15 Then when with meates and drinkes of every kinde Their fervent appetites they quenchéd had, That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde, Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad,° Which in his travell him befallen had,

grave

For to demaund? of his renowméd guest: Who then with utt’rance grave, and count’nance sad, From point to point,’ as is before exprest,

inquire from first to last

Discourst his voyage long, according® his request.

granting

16

Great pleasure mixt with pittifull° regard, That godly King and Queene did passionate,° Whiles they his pittifull° adventures heard, That oft they did lament his lucklesse state, And often blame the too importune’® fate,

sympathetic i.e., feel and express deserving pity

That heapd on him so many wrathfull wreakes:°

severe vengeful injuries

For never gentle knight, as he of late, So tosséd was in fortunes cruell freakes;° And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.

7. Trumpet calls. “Shaumes”: the shawm was the medieval and Renaissance predecessor of the

oboe. 8. Make seemly conversation.

whims

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U7,

Then said that royall Pere in sober wise: “Deare Sonne, great beene the evils, which ye bore From first to last in your late enterprise, That I note,° whether prayse, or pitty more: For never living man, I weene,° so sore

In sea of deadly daungers was distrest; But since now safe ye seiséd° have the shore, And well arrivéd are (high God be blest), Let us devize® of ease and everlasting rest.”

know not think

reached think

18

“Ah dearest Lord,” said then that doughty knight, “Of ease or rest I may not yet devize; For by the faith, which I to armes have plight,° pledged I bounden am streight® after this emprize,° immediately /enterprise As that your daughter can ye well advize, Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene, And her to serve six yeares in warlike wize,° manner Gainst that proud Paynim king, that workes her teene:° sorrow Therefore I ought® crave pardon, till I there have beene.”” must #9 “Unhappie falles that hard necessitie,”

Quoth he, “the troubler of my happie peace, And vowéd foe of my felicitie; Ne® I against the same can justly preace:° nor /press, contend But since that band® ye cannot now release, obligation Nor doen undo (for vowes may not be vaine),! Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease, Ye then shall hither backe returne againe, The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twain.

20 “Which for my part I covet to performe, In sort as° through the world I did proclame, That who so kild that monster most deforme,?

And him in hardy battaile overcame, Should have mine onely daughter to his Dame,° And of my kingdome heire apparaunt bee: Therefore since now to thee perteines® the same, By dew desert of noble chevalree, Both daughter and eke kingdome, lo I yield to thee.”

9. The final Christian triumph, the marriage of Christ and the true Church, will be achieved only at the end of time. Meanwhile, the struggle

even as hideous

wife belongs

against evil (and the Roman Church) continues. I. l.e., you cannot undo what is done (“doen”), for vows may not be (made) vain.

TVHESEABRIEOUEEBNE,

BOOK

I

GAN TO

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401

Then forth he calléd that his daughter faire, The fairest Un’ his onely daughter deare, His onely daughter, and his onely heyre; Who forth proceeding with sad° sober cheare,° grave / countenance As bright as doth the morning starre appeare Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight,° bedecked To tell that dawning day is drawing neare, And to the world does bring long wishéd light; So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.

So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; For she had layd her mournefull stole? aside, And widow-like sad wimple° throwne away, Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide, Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride; And on her now a garment she did weare, All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride,° That seemed like silke and silver woven neare,° But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare. 3

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, And glorious light of her sunshyny face* To tell, were as to strive against the streame. My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace, Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.° Ne wonder; for her owne deare loved knight, All° were she dayly with himselfe in place, Did wonder much at her celestiall sight: Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight.°

veil

ornament tightly

adorn although

arrayed

So fairely dight, when she in presence came, She to her Sire made humble reverence,

And bowéd low, that her right well became, And added grace unto her excellence: Who with great wisdome, and grave eloquence Thus gan to say. But eare® he thus had said, With flying speede, and seeming great pretence,”

ere purpose

Came running in, much like a man dismaid,

A Messenger with letters, which his message said.

2. Her black robe (canto 1, stanza 4). 3. “The marriage of the Lamb is come, and his

wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righ-

teousness of saints” (Revelation 19.7—8). 4. Revelation 21.9, 11 describes the New Jerusalem as “the bride, the Lamb’s wife... her light

was like unto a stone most precious.”

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25 All in the open hall amazéd stood,

At suddeinnesse of that unwarie® sight, And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood. But he for nought would stay his passage right® Till fast° before the king he did alight;

unexpected

direct close

Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make,

And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight;° Then to his hands that writ° he did betake,°

placed document / deliver

Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake. 26

“To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire, Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest, The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire Of that great Emperour of all the West; And bids thee be advized for the best, Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band Of wedlocke to that new unknowen guest:

For he already plighted his right hand Unto another love, and to another land.

27,

“To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, He was affiauncéd long time before, And sacred pledges he both gave, and had, False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore: Witnesse the burning Altars, which® he swore, And guiltie heavens of° his bold perjury,

by which

i.e., and heavens polluted by

Which though he hath polluted oft of yore, Yet I to them for judgement just do fly, And them conjure® t’avenge this shamefull injury.

implore

28

“Therefore since mine he is, or® free or bond,° Or false or trew, or living or else dead,

whether / bound

Withhold, O soveraine Prince, your hasty hond? From knitting league with him, I you aread;° Ne wene® my right with strength adowne to tread, Through weakenesse of my widowhed, or woe: For truth is strong, her rightfull cause to plead, And shall find friends, if need requireth soe,

hand

advise think

So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, Fidessa.” 29

When he these bitter byting words had red, The tydings straunge did him abashéd make, That still he sate long time astonished As in great muse,° ne word to creature

spake,

amazement

THE

FAERIE

QUEENE,

BOOK

WW

CANTO

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403

At last his solemne silence thus he brake,

With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest: “Redoubted® knight, that for mine onely sake® Thy life and honour late adventurest, Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.

honored

30 “What meane these bloudy vowes, and idle threats, Throwne out from womanish impatient mind? What heavens? what altars? what enragéd heates Here heapéd up with termes of love unkind,°

unnatural

My conscience cleare with guilty bands° would bind? — bonds ofguilt High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame. But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie® find, guilty Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame, With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same.”

31 To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent, “My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd, Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,° serious investigation What woman, and wherefore doth me upbrayd With breach of love, and loyalty betrayd. It was in my mishaps, as hitherward I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard; That day should faile me, ere | had them all declard.

22 “There did I find, or rather I was found Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight,°

Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground, Most false Duessa, royall richly dight, That easie was t’invegle weaker? sight:

is called

deceive too weak

Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill,

Too false and strong for earthly skill or might, Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will, And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.” 33.

Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd: “O pardon me, my soveraigne Lord, to show The secret treasons, which of late I know To have bene wroght by that false sorceresse. She onely she it is, that earst® did throw

5. For my sake alone.

formerly

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This gentle knight into so great distresse, That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse. 34 “And now it seemes, that she subornéd hath

This craftie messenger with letters vaine, To worke new woe and improvided scath,° By breaking of the band® betwixt us twaine; Wherein she uséd hath the practicke paine® Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse, Whon if ye please for to discover plaine, Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse,

unexpected harm

bond treacherous skill

The falsest man alive; who tries° shall find no lesse.”

investigates

35

The king was greatly moved at her speach, And all with suddein indignation fraight,°

Bad° on that Messenger rude® hands to reach. Eftsoones° the Gard, which on his state did wait, Attacht°® that faitor® false, and bound him strait:

Who seeming sorely chauffed?® at his band,

filled bade / harsh immediately arrested / impostor angered

As chainéd Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait, With idle force did faine® them to withstand,

feign

And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand. 36

But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, And bound him hand and foote with yron chains. And with continuall watch did warely® keepe; Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains® He could escape fowle death or deadly paines?® Thus when that Princes wrath was pacifide, He gan renew the late forbidden banes,’ And to the knight his daughter deare he tyde, With sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyde.

vigilantly tricks

oF

His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, That none but death for ever can devide; His owne two hands, for such a turne® most fit,

act

The housling?® fire did kindle and provide, And holy water thereon sprinckled wide; At which the bushy Teade® a groome did light, And sacred lampe in secret chamber hide, 6. “And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season” (Rev-

sacramental

nuptial torch

elation 20,2—3).

7. Banns; i.e., proclamation or public notice of an intended marriage. Una and Redcrosse are now betrothed; the consummation of their marriage is postponed. 8. Marriages

in ancient

times were

with sacramental fire and water.

solemnized

THEE

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MEGAN

TO

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405

Where it should not be quenched day nor night, For feare of evill fates, but burnen ever bright. 38

Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine, And made great feast to solemnize.that day; They all perfumde with frankencense divine,

And precious odours fetcht from far away, That all the house did sweat with great aray: And all the while sweete Musicke did apply Her curious? skill, the warbling notes to play, To drive away the dull Melancholy; The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity.

intricate

39

During the which there was an heavenly noise Heard sound through all the Pallace pleasantly, Like as it had bene many an Angels voice, Singing before th’eternall majesty, In their trinall triplicities? on hye; Yet wist® no creature, whence that heavenly sweet°® Proceeded, yet each one felt secretly® Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet,° And ravishéd with rare impression in his sprite.'

knew / delight inwardly proper

40

Great joy was made that day of young and old, And solemne feast proclaimd throughout the land, That their exceeding merth may not be told: Suffice it heare by signes to understand The usuall joyes at knitting of loves band. Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold, Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand,

And ever, when his eye did her behold, His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold. 41

Her joyous presence and sweet company In full content he there did long enjoy, Ne wicked envie, ne vile gealosy His deare delights were able to annoy: Yet swimming in that sea of blisfull joy, He nought forgot, how he whilome® had sworne, In case he could? that monstrous beast destroy,

9. The nine angelic orders, divided into three groups of three, the whole hierarchy corresponding to the nine spheres of the universe. The music heard in this stanza is the music of the spheres, not audible on earth since the Fall. 1. Spirit. “Let us be glad and rejoice, and give

formerly

honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come” (Revelation 19.7). In Revelation, the marriage of Christ and the New Jerusalem signals the general redemption. 2. If he were able to.

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Unto his Faerie Queene backe to returne:

The which he shortly did, and Una left to mourne. 42

Now strike your sailes ye jolly Mariners, For we be come unto a quiet rode,° Where we must land some of our passengers,

harbor

And light this wearie vessell of her lode. Here she a while may make her safe abode, Till she repairéd have her tackles spent,° And wants supplide. And then againe abroad

worn out

On the long voyage whereto she is bent: Well may she speede and fairely finish her intent.

From The Second Booke of The Faerie Queene Contayning The Legend of Sir Guyon, or

Of Temperaunce

Summary In Book 2, Sir Guyon represents and becomes the virtue of Temperance, which requires moderation, self-control, and sometimes abstinence in regard to anger, sex, greed, ambition, and the whole spectrum of passions, desires, pleasures, and material goods. In his climactic adventure, he visits and destroys the Bower of Bliss of the witch Acrasia.

From Canto 12

[THE BOWER OF BLIss]? 42

Thence passing forth, they* shortly do arrive, Whereas the Bowre of Blisse was situate; A place pickt out by choice of best alive,° That natures worke by art can imitate: In which what ever in this worldly state Is sweet, and pleasing unto living sense, Or that may dayntiest fantasie aggrate,° Was poured forth with plentifull dispence,° And made there to abound with lavish affluence.

3. The Bower of Bliss, perhaps the most famous of Spenser's symbolic places, has been variously interpreted. Some critics emphasize its aspects of sterility and artifice; others, its seductive and threatening eroticism and idolatry akin to that associated, in Spenser’s time, with the New World

the best living artisans

please, satisfy liberality

and Ireland. 4. l.e., Guyon and a character called the Palmer, who is his guide throughout Book 2 (and who is usually thought to represent reason). Pilgrims to the Holy Land were called palmers in token of the palm leaves they often brought back.

HE

ENE REVO WEENIE,

DOlOKe2Z = GAINTOn

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43 Goodly it was encloséd round about,

Aswell their entred guests to keepe within, As those unruly beasts to hold without;> Yet was the fence thereof but weake and thin;

Nought feard their force, that fortilage® to win,° But wisedomes powre, and temperaunces might, By which the mightiest things efforcéd bin:° And eke® the gate was wrought of substaunce light, Rather for pleasure, then® for battery or fight.

fortress

are compelled

also than

44 Yt framéd° was of precious yvory,

made

That seemd a worke of admirable wit;°

marvelous skill

And therein all the famous history

Of Jason and Medaea was ywrit; Her mighty charmes, her furious loving fit, His goodly conquest of the golden fleece, violated / altering His falséd° faith, and love too lightly flit,° admired The wondred® Argo, which in venturous peece’ First through the Euxine seas bore all the flowr of Greece.® 45

Ye might® have seene the frothy billowes fry° Under the ship, as thorough® them she went, That seemd the waves were into yvory,

could /foam through

Or yvory into the waves were sent;

And other where the snowy substaunce sprent®

sprinkled

With vermell,° like the boyes bloud therein shed,’

vermilion

A piteous spectacle did represent, And otherwhiles® with gold besprinkeled;

elsewhere

Yt seemd th’enchaunted flame, which did Creiisa wed.! 46

All this, and more might in that goodly gate Be red; that ever open stood to all, Which thither came: but in the Porch there sate A comely personage of stature tall, And semblaunce? pleasing, more then naturall,

appearance

That travellers to him seemd to entize;

His looser® garment to the ground did fall, 5. Just outside the Bower, Guyon and the Palmer had encountered “many beasts, that roard outrageously, / As if that hungers point, or Venus sting

too loose

Fleece ofthe king of Colchis; the sorceress Medea, the king’s daughter, fell in love with him and used “her mighty charmes” to help him obtain it.

/ Had them enraged” (stanza 39). The Palmer had

9. The

used the magical power of his staff to turn their aggression into cringing fear. 6. L.e., it was not at all feared that the physical force of the beasts could breach that fortress. 7. I.e., adventurous vessel. 8. Jason, in his ship the Argo, sought the Golden

blood

of Absyrtus,

Medea’s

younger

1. Jason later deserted Medea for Creiisa. In revenge, Medea gave her a dress that burst into flame when she put it on; the flame consumed and thus “wed” her.

brother, whose body she cut into pieces and scattered to delay her father’s pursuit.

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And flew about his heeles in wanton wize,° Not fit for speedy pace, or manly exercize.

unruly fashion

Ay,

They in that place him Genius? did call:

presiding spirit

Not that celestiall powre, to whom the care

Of life, and generatién of all That lives, pertaines in charge particulare,* Who wondrous things concerning our welfare,

And strange phantomes? And oft of secret ill bids That is our Selfe,* whom Yet each doth in him selfe

doth let us oft forsee, us beware: though we do not see, it well perceive to bee.

visions

48

Therefore a God him sage Antiquity Did wisely make,* and good Agdistes call: But this same’ was to that quite contrary, The foe of life, that good envyes? to all,

grudges

That secretly doth us procure? to fall, Through guilefull semblaunts,° which he makes us see.

cause illusions

He

of this Gardin

had the governall,°

management

And Pleasures porter was devizd?® to bee, Holding a staffe in hand for more formalitee.

appointed

AQ

With diverse flowres he daintily was deckt, And strowéd round about, and by his side A mighty Mazer bowle® of wine was set, As if it had to him bene sacrifide;°

consecrated

Wherewith all new-come guests he gratifide: So did he eke Sir Guyon passing by: But he his idle curtesie defide, And overthrew his bowle disdainfully; And broke his staffe, with which he charméd semblants sly.’

50 Thus being entred, they behold around A large and spacious plaine, on every side Strowed with pleasauns,° whose faire grassy ground pleasure grounds Mantled with greene, and goodly beautifide With all the ornaments of Floraes?® pride, goddess of flowers Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in scorne

2. Le., not Agdistes (see next stanza), the god of generation, The true Agdistes appears in the Garden of Adonis canto of Book 3 (canto 6, stanzas 31—33).

3. Le., the daemon, or indwelling divine power, that directs the course of our lives.

4. Le., the wise ancients

were

right to declare

this power a god. 5. L.e., the Genius of the Bower. 6. A drinking cup of maple. 7. Raised deceitful apparitions. The rod and bowl are traditional emblems of enchantment (cf. Duessa’s cup, Book 1, canto 8, stanza 14),

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CAN TOs 12

Of niggard° Nature, like a pompous bride

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stingy

Did decke her, and too lavishly adorne,

When forth from virgin bowre she comes in th’early morne. 51 Thereto the Heavens alwayes Joviall,*® Lookt on them lovely,’ still° in stedfast state,

lovingly / always

Ne® suffred storme nor frost on them to fall, Their tender buds or leaves to violate,

nor

Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate T’afflict the creatures, which therein did dwell,

But the milde aire with season moderate Gently attempred, and disposd so well, That still it breathéd forth sweet spirit° and holesome smell.

breath

52 More sweet and holesome, then’ the pleasaunt hill

than

Of Rhodope, on which the Nimphe, that bore

A gyaunt babe, her selfe for griefe did kill; Or the Thessalian Tempe, where of yore Faire Daphne Phoebus hart with love did gore; Or Ida, where the Gods lov’d to repaire,° When ever they their heavenly bowres forlore;° Or sweet Parnasse, the haunt of Muses faire;? Or Eden selfe, if ought® with Eden mote compaire.

resort deserted aught, anything

53 Much wondred Guyon at the faire aspect Of that sweet place, yet suffred no delight To sincke into his sence, nor mind affect, But passéd forth, and lookt still forward right,

Bridling his will, and maistering his might: Till that he came unto another gate, No gate, but like one, being goodly dight°® With boughes and braunches, which did broad dilate® Their clasping armes, in wanton wreathings intricate.

straight ahead

arrayed spread out

54

So fashionéd a Porch with rare device,° Archt over head with an embracing vine, Whose bounches hanging downe, seemed to entice All passers by, to tast their lushious wine,

design

And did themselves into their hands incline,

As freely offering to be gathered: 8. Serene and beneficent, as influenced by the planet Jupiter. 9. The nymph Rhodope, who had a “gyaunt babe,”

was turned into a laurel tree. Mount Ida was the scene of the rape of Ganymede by Jupiter, the judgment of Paris, and the gods’ vantage point for

Daphne, another nymph, charmed Apollo so much

home of the Muses.

Athos, by Neptune, was turned into a mountain.

that he pursued her until she prayed for aid and

viewing the Trojan War. Mount

Parnassus is the

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Some deepe empurpled as the Hyacine,° Some as the Rubine,° laughing sweetly red, Some like faire Emeraudes, not yet well ripened.

hyacinth ruby

55 And them amongst, some were of burnisht gold,

So made by art, to beautifie the rest, Which did themselves emongst the leaves enfold, As lurking from the vew of covetous guest, That the weake bowes,° with so rich load opprest,

boughs

Did bowe adowne, as over-burdenéd. Under that Porch a comely dame did rest, Clad in faire weedes,° but fowle disorderéd,

garments

And garments loose, that seemd unmeet for womanhed.! 56

In her left hand a Cup of gold she held, And with her right the riper® fruit did reach, Whose sappy liquor, that with fulnesse sweld,

overripe

Into her cup she scruzd,° with daintie breach® Of her fine fingers, without fowle empeach,°

squeezed / crushing injury

That so faire wine-presse made the wine more sweet: Thereof she usd to give to drinke to each, Whom passing by she happenéd to meet: It was her guise,° all Straungers goodly so to greet.

custom

D7

So she to Guyon offred it to tast; Who taking it out of her tender hond, The cup to ground did violently cast, That all in peeces it was broken fond,° And with the liquor stainéd all the lond:° Whereat Excesse® exceedingly was wroth,

found land i.e., the “comely dame”

Yet no’te® the same amend, ne yet withstond,

knew not how to

But suffered® him to passe, all° were she loth; allowed / although Who nought regarding her displeasure forward goth. 58

There the most daintie Paradise on ground, It selfe doth offer to his sober eye, In which all pleasures plenteously abound, And none does others happinesse envye: The painted? flowres, the trees upshooting hye, The dales for shade, the hilles for breathing space, The trembling groves, the Christall° running by; And that, which all faire workes doth most aggrace,? The art, which all that wrought, appearéd in no place. 1. Unfitting for womanhood.

brightly colored clear stream _add grace to

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One would have thought (so cunningly, the rude, And scornéd parts were mingled with the fine) That nature had for wantonesse ensude® Art, and that Art at nature did repine;°

playfulness imitated complain

So striving each th’other to undermine,

Each did the others worke more beautifie; So diff’ring both in willes, agreed in fine:° So all agreed through sweete diversitie, This Gardin to adorne with all varietie.

in the end

60

And in the midst of all, a fountaine stood,

Of richest substaunce, that on earth might bee, So pure and shiny, that the silver flood Through every channell running one might see; Most goodly it with curious imageree Was over-wrought,° and shapes of naked boyes, — embellished (excessively) Of which some seemd with lively jollitee, sports To fly about, playing their wanton toyes,° bathe joyes. liquid in embay° selves Whilest others did them 61

And over all, of purest gold was spred, A trayle of yvie in his native hew: For the rich mettall was so coloured,

person / carefully That wight,? who did not well avis’d° it vew, Would surely deeme it to be yvie trew: Low his lascivious armes adown did creepe, That themselves dipping in the silver dew, Their fleecy flowres they tenderly did steepe, on which Which? drops of Christall seemd for wantones to weepe. 62

Infinit streames continually did well

Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see,

The which into an ample laver’ fell, And shortly grew to so great quantitie, That like a little lake it seemd to bee; Whose depth exceeded not three cubits* hight,

basin

That through the waves one might the bottom see,

All pav’d beneath with Jaspar shining bright, That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright.

63 And all the margent® round about was set,

With shady Laurell trees, thence to defend®

more than five feet. 2. One cubit is about twenty inches; thus the depth is no

border

ward off

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beat

The sunny beames, which on the billowes bet,°

And those which therein bathed, mote offend.° As Guyon hapned by the same to wend,° Two naked Damzelles he therein espyde, Which therein bathing, seeméd to contend, And wrestle wantonly, ne car’d to hyde, Their dainty parts from vew of any, which them eyde.

might harm

pass

64 Sometimes the one would lift the other quight Above the waters, and then downe againe Her plong,° as over maisteréd by might,

plunge

Where both awhile would coveréd remaine, And each the other from to rise® restraine;

rising

The whiles their snowy limbes, as through a vele,° So through the Christall waves appearéd plaine: Then suddeinly both would themselves unhele,° And th’amarous sweet spoiles® to greedy eyes revele.

65 As that faire Starre, the messenger of morne,? His deawy face out of the sea doth reare: Or as the Cyprian goddess,* newly borne Of th’Oceans fruitfull froth,° did first appeare: Such seeméd they, and so their yellow heare Christalline humour® droppéd downe apace. Whom

veil uncover

booty, plunder

foam clear water

such when Guyon saw, he drew him neare,

And somewhat gan relent his earnest pace, His stubborne brest gan secret pleasaunce to embrace. 66

The wanton Maidens him espying, stood Gazing a while at his unwonted guise;°

unaccustomed behavior

Then th’one her selfe low duckéd in the flood,

Abasht, that her a straunger did avise:° But th’other rather higher did arise, And her two lilly paps® aloft displayd, And all, that might his melting hart entise To her delights, she unto him bewrayed:°

see

breasts revealed

The rest hid underneath, him more desirous made.

67 With that, the other likewise up arose, And her faire lockes, which formerly were bownd Up in one knot, she low adowne did lose:° 3. Unless “his” in the next line is to be taken as neuter, it implies that the reference is not to Venus but to Phosphorus (or Heophorus), the minor male divinity sometimes identified with

loosen

the morning star. 4. Venus, one of whose principal shrines was on the island of Cyprus.

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Which flowing long and thick, her cloth’d arownd, And th’yvorie in golden mantle gownd: So that faire spectacle from him was reft,° Yet that, which reft it, no lesse faire was fownd:

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taken

So hid in lockes and waves from lookers theft,

Nought but her lovely face she for his looking left. 68

Withall she laughéd, and she blusht withall, That blushing to her laughter gave more grace, And laughter to her blushing, as did fall:° Now when they spide the knight to slacke his pace,

as it happened

Them to behold, and in his sparkling® face

animated

The secret signes of kindled lust appeare, Their wanton meriments they did encreace, And to him beckned, to approch more neare,

And shewd him many sights, that courage cold could reare.

69 On which when gazing him the Palmer saw,

He much rebukt those wandring eyes of his, And counseld well, him forward thence did draw.

Now are they come nigh to the Bowre of blis

Of her fond? favorites so nam’d amis: When thus the Palmer; “Now Sir, well avise;° For here the end of all our travell? is: Here wonnes°® Acrasia,° whom we must surprise, Else she will slip away, and all our drift despise.”°

enamored; foolish take care

dwells

plan set at nought

70 Eftsoones® they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, Such as attonce might not on living ground, Save in this Paradise, be heard elswhere: Right hard it was, for wight,? which did it heare, To read, what manner musicke that mote bee: For all that pleasing is to living eare, Was there consorted in one harmonee,

immediately

person discern

Birdes, voyces, instruments, windes, waters, all agree.

71

The joyous birdes shrouded in chearefull shade, Their notes unto the voyce attempred® sweet; Th’Angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th’instruments divine respondence meet:” The silver sounding instruments did meet® With the base’ murmure of the waters fall: 5. Travel or travail. “End”: conclusion or goal. 6. Intemperance (from Greek).

attuned fitting join

7. Low-pitched; also punning on the moral sense of the word.

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The waters fall with difference discreet,° Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call:

distinct variation

The gentle warbling wind low answeréd to all. 72

There, whence that Musick seeméd heard to bee,

Was the faire Witch her selfe* now solacing,°

taking pleasure

With a new Lover, whom through sorceree

And witchcraft, she from farre did thither bring: There she had him now layd a slombering, In secret shade, after long wanton joyes: Whilst round about them pleasauntly did sing Many faire Ladies, and lascivious boyes, That ever mixt their song with light licentious toyes.°

amorous play

73

And all that while, right over him she hong, With her false® eyes fast fixed in his sight, As seeking medicine, whence she was stong,° Or greedily depasturing® delight: And oft inclining downe with kisses light, For feare of waking him, his lips bedewd, And through his humid® eyes did sucke his spright,° Quite molten into lust and pleasure lewd; Wherewith she sighéd soft, as if his case she rewd.°

deceitful stung

feeding on

moist / spirit

pitied

74

The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay:? “Ah see, who so faire thing doest faine® to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day; Ah see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe forth with bashfull modestee, That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may;

delight

Lo see soone after, how more bold and free

Her bared bosome she doth broad display; Loe see soone after, how she fades, and falles away.

75 “So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre,

Ne more doth flourish after first decay, That earst° was sought to decke both bed and bowre, Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre:° 8. Acrasia bears many resemblances to the classical Circe

(in Odyssey

10 as well as the more

witchlike and seductive figure in Ovid’s Metamorphoses 14) and also to the enchantresses of Italian romance who derive from Circe: Acratia in Trissino’s L'Italia liberata and Armida in Tas-

so’s Gerusalemme liberata. Much of the descrip-

formerly lover

tion in this scene is imitated from Tasso’s account of the garden of Armida. 9. The song (“lay”) of stanzas 74 and 75 imitates that in Gerusalemme liberata 16.14—15. This is a classic statement of the carpe florem (or carpe diem) theme—pick the flower of youth before it fades.

DHE

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Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime,°

WZ

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A415

(its) springtime

For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre: Gather the Rose of love, whilest yet is time, Whilest loving thou mayst lovéd be with equal crime.” 76

He ceast, and then gan all the quire of birdes Their diverse notes t’attune unto his lay,

As in approvance of his pleasing words. The constant paire! heard all, that he did say, Yet swarved not, but kept their forward way,

Through many covert groves, and thickets close, In which they creeping did at last display® That wanton Ladie, with her lover lose,° Whose sleepie head she in her lap did soft dispose.

discover

loose, wanton

He

Upon a bed of Roses she was layd, As faint through heat, or dight to° pleasant sin,

ready for

And was arayd, or rather disarayd, All in a vele of silke and silver thin,

That hid no whit her alablaster skin, But rather shewd more white, if more might bee: More subtile web Arachne® cannot spin, Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven see Of scorchéd deaw, do not in th’aire more lightly flee.°

the spider

float

78

Her snowy brest was bare to readie spoyle Of hungry eies, which note® therewith be fild,

could not

And yet through languor of her late sweet toyle, Few drops, more cleare then Nectar, forth distild,

That like pure Orient perles* adowne it trild,° And her faire eyes sweet smyling in delight,

trickled

pierced Moystened their fierie beames,’ with which she thrild°® quenched, killed light starry like not; ? Fraile harts, yet quenched bright. more seeme does waves, silent the on g sparcklin Which

12

The young man sleeping by her, seemd to bee Some goodly swayne of honorable place,” That certés® it great pittie was to see Him his nobilitie so foule deface;°

A sweet regard,° and amiable grace, Mixéd with manly sternnesse did appeare Yet sleeping, in his well proportioned face, 1. I.e., Guyon and the Palmer. 2. Lustrous pearls of the East. 3, Eyes—particularly those of

lovers—were

rank certainly

disgrace demeanor

believed to emit beams of light or of the animating “spirits”; i.e., rarefied fluids thought to permeate the blood and bodily organs.

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And on his tender lips the downy heare Did now but freshly spring, and silken blossomes beare. 80

His warlike armes, the idle instruments

Of sleeping praise,° were hong upon a tree, And his brave® shield, full of old moniments,’

worthiness splendid / marks of honor

Was fowly ra’st,° that none the signes might see; Ne for them, ne for honour caréd hee, Ne ought,° that did to his advauncement tend,

erased aught, anything

But in lewd loves, and wastfull luxuree,°

licentiousness

His dayes, his goods, his bodie he did spend: O horrible enchantment, that him so did blend.°

blind

81

The noble Elfe,t and carefull Palmer drew

So nigh them, minding nought, but® lustfull game, That suddein forth they on them rusht, and threw A subtile net, which onely for the same The skilfull Palmer formally® did frame.’ So held them under fast, the whiles the rest Fled all away from feare of fowler shame.

—_heedful only of

The faire Enchauntresse, so unwares opprest,° Tryde all her arts, and all her sleights, thence out to wrest.

expressly

surprised

82 And eke? her lover strove: but all in vaine; For that same net so cunningly was wound,

also

That neither guile, nor force might it distraine.° tear They tooke them both, and both them strongly bound In captive bandes,° which there they readie found: bonds But her in chaines of adamant? he tyde; For nothing else might keepe her safe and sound;° i.e., unable to escape But Verdant® (so he hight°®) he soone untyde, Green / was called And counsell sage in steed° thereof to him applyde. instead

83 But all those pleasant bowres and Pallace brave,°

splendid

Guyon broke downe, with rigour pittilesse;

Ne ought their goodly workmanship might save Them from the tempest of his wrathfulnesse, But that their blisse he turn’d to balefulnesse:°

distress

Their groves he feld, their gardins did deface,

Their arbers spoyle, their Cabinets°® suppresse, Their banket® houses burne, their buildings race,° And of the fairest late,° now made the fowlest place. 4. Knight of Faerie Land, here, Guyon. 5. The episode recalls the capture of Venus and her lover Mars in a net cunningly set around his

bowers banquet / raze lately

marriage bed by Venus’s husband, Vulcan, the blacksmith god (Odyssey 8.272—84). 6. Steel or some other extremely hard substance.

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84 Then led they her away, and eke that knight They with them led, both sorrowfull and sad: The way they came, the same retourn’d they right, Till they arrivéd, where they lately had Charm’d those wild-beasts, that rag’d with furie mad.’ Which now awaking, fierce at them gan fly, As in their mistresse reskew, whom they lad;°

led

But them the Palmer soone did pacify. Then Guyon askt, what meant those beastes, which there did ly.

85 Said he, “These seeming beasts are men indeed, Whom this Enchauntresse hath transformed thus, Whylome? her lovers, which her lusts did feed, Now turnéd into figures hideous, According to their mindes like monstruous.”® “Sad end,” quoth he, “of life intemperate, And mournefull meed?® ofjoyes delicious:

formerly

reward please

But Palmer, if it mote thee so aggrate,° Let them returnéd be unto their former state.” 86

Streight way he with his vertuous? staffe them strooke, And streight? of beasts they comely men became; Yet being men they did unmanly looke, And stared ghastly, some for inward shame, And some for wrath, to see their captive Dame: But one aboye the rest in speciall, That had an hog beene late, hight® Grille’ by name, Repinéd? greatly, and did him miscall,°

powerful immediately

called

complained / revile

That had from hoggish forme him brought to naturall.

87 Said Guyon, “See the mind of beastly man, That hath so soone forgot the excellence Of his creation, when he life began,

That now he chooseth, with vile difference,°

preference

To be a beast, and lacke intelligence.”

To whom the Palmer thus, “The donghill kind Delights in filth and foule incontinence: Let Grill be Grill, and have his hoggish mind,

But let us hence depart, whilest wether serves and wind.”

7. See above, stanza 43, n. 5.

8. Even as their own minds were similarly monstrous. Circe changed Odysseus’s companions into animals, but Odysseus had a charm to release them.

9, According to one of Plutarch’s dialogues, a man named Gryllus (“fierce,” “cruel”), having been changed into a hog by Circe, refused to be restored to human form by Odysseus.

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From The Third Booke of The Faerie Queene Containing The Legend of Britomartis,! or Of Chastitie

Summary The third book of The Faerie Queene is a multifaceted exploration of the virtue of chastity, which is, for Spenser, closely bound up with the power of love. The principal character is the lady knight Britomart, on a quest to find her destined beloved, the knight Artegall. Her adventures are braided together with those of many others, including the twins Belphoebe and Amoret, whose miraculous conception and birth is related at the opening of canto 6. The infant Belphoebe is adopted by the goddess Diana; Amoret is taken up by the goddess Venus and brought to the Garden of Adonis, Spenser’s most remarkable allegorical vision of erotic union and procreation.

From Canto 6

[THE GARDEN OF ADONIS]

The birth of faire Belphoebe and Of Amoret is told. The Gardins of Adonis fraught° With pleasures manifold.

filled

I

Well may I weene,° faire Ladies, all this while Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell®

So great perfections did in her compile,° Sith° that in salvage® forests she did dwell,

suppose i.e., Belphoebe gather together since / wild

So farre from court and royal] Citadell,

The great schoolmistresse of all curtesy: Seemeth® that such wild woods should far expell All civill? usage and gentility, And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.

it would seem polite

2

But to this faire Belphoebe in her berth The heavens so favourable were and free,°

Looking with myld aspect upon the earth, In th’Horoscope of her nativitee, That all the gifts of grace and chastitee On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;? |. The name comes from the pseudo-Virgilian poem Ciris (lines 295-305), where Britomartis is a goddess associated with Diana, the chaste goddess of the moon. For Spenser, her name suggests the (false) etymology Brito (“Britoness”) + Mart

generous

(“Mars,” god of war).

2. Horn of plenty, cornucopia. The planets were in favorable relationship (“myld aspect”) at her birth; the combination of Jupiter (“Jove”) and Venus was thought to be especially fortunate.

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6

Jove laught on Venus from his soveraigne see,’ And Phoebus with faire beames did her adorne, And all the Graces rockt her cradle being borne. 2

Her berth was of the wombe of Morning dew,’ And her conception of the joyous Prime,° And all her whole creation did her shew Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime, That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.* So was this virgin borne, so was she bred,° So was she traynéd up from time to time,° In all chast vertue, and true bounti-hed®

springtime

nourished at all times

goodness

Till to her dew perfection she was ripenéd. 4

Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee,’ The daughter of Amphisa,° who by race A Faerie was, yborne of high degree, She bore Belphoebe, she bore in like cace Faire Amoretta in the second place: These two were twinnes, and twixt them two did share

The heritage of all celestiall grace. That all the rest it seem’d they robbed bare Of bountie,° and of beautie, and all vertues rare.

goodness

5

It were a goodly? storie, to declare, By what straunge accident® faire Chrysogone Conceived these infants, and how them she bare, In this wild forrest wandring all alone, After she had nine moneths fulfild and gone: For not as other wemens commune brood, They were enwombéd in the sacred throne

pleasant happening

Of her chaste bodie, nor with commune food,

As other wemens babes, they suckéd vitall blood. 6

But wondrously they were begot, and bred Through influence of th’heavens fruitfull ray,’ As it in antique bookes is mentioned. It was upon a Sommers shynie day,

3. An echo of Psalms

110.3 (Book of Common

Prayer): “The dew of thy birth is of the womb of the morning,” taken to refer to the conception and birth of Christ. 4. Like Christ or the Virgin, she is said to be free of original sin, which is innate (“ingenerate”) in

human flesh.

5. Golden-born (Greek), alluding to the myth of Danaé, who conceived when Jove visited her

as a shower of gold.

6. Of double nature (Greek). 7. |.e., an emanation from the heavens; continuing

the analogue to the Virgin’s miraculous conception of Christ.

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When Titan’ faire his beamés did display, In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,

She bathed her brest, the boyling heat t’allay; She bathed with roses red, and violets blew,

And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew. 7

Till faint through irkesome® wearinesse, adowne Upon the grassie ground her selfe she layd To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne® Upon her fell all naked bare displayd; The sunne-beames bright upon her body playd, Being through former bathing mollifide,° And pierst into her wombe, where they embayd° With so sweet sence® and secret power unspide, That in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide.°

burdensome deep sleep

softened steeped sensation

bore fruit

8 Miraculous may seeme to him, that reades So straunge ensample of concepti6n;

But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seades Of all things living, through impressi6én Of the sunbeames in moyst complexién, Doe life conceive and quickned are by kynd:°

nature

So after Nilus°® inundation,

the Nile’s

Infinite shapes of creatures men do fynd, Informéd in°® the mud, on which the Sunne hath shynd.?

formed within

9

Great father he of generatién Is rightly cald, th’author of life and light; And his faire sister for creatién Ministreth matter fit, which tempred right With heate and humour,’ breedes the living wight.! So sprong these twinnes in wombe of Chrysogone, Yet wist® she nought thereof, but sore affright,° Wondred to see her belly so upblone, Which still increast, till she her terme had full outgone.

bodily fluid knew / afraid

10

Whereof conceiving shame and foule disgrace, Albe® her guiltlesse consciénce her cleard, She fled into the wildernesse a space,° Till that unweeldy burden she had reard,°

albeit for a time

brought forth

And shund dishonor, which as death she feard: 8. The sun. The first Greek sun god, Helios, was descended from the Titans. 9. The theory that life was spontaneously generated by the sun’s influence on the moist earth is drawn from Ovid and Lucretius.

1. Creature.

The

moon

(the sun’s

“sister”)

is

thought to furnish (“ministreth”) matter for the creation of life through its control of mortal bodies, especially women’s.

InFE

(PATE RUE

(OW EENE,

(BiOiO7K

3) (GAIN TO! 16

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Where wearie of long travell,? downe to rest Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard;?

There a sad° cloud of sleepe her overkest,° And seized every sense with sorrow sore opprest.

heavy /overcast

II

It fortunéd,° faire Venus having lost Her little sonne, the wingéd god of love, Who for some light® displeasure, which him crost,°

chanced trivial / thwarted

Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Dove,*

And left her blisfull bowre of joy above, (So from her often he had fled away,

aught; anything When she for ought® him sharpely did reprove, attire And wandred in the world in strange aray,° Disguiz’d in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.°) discover 12

Him for to seeke, she left her heavenly hous,

The house of goodly formes and faire aspects,’ Whenee all the world derives the glorious choice

Features of beautie, and all shapes select,°

With which high God his workmanship hath deckt;° And searchéd every way, through which his wings Had borne him, or® his tract® she mote® detect:

adorned / might ere / track

She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things Unto the man, that of him tydings to her brings.

13 First she him sought in Court, where most he used

Whylome’ to haunt,° but there she found him not; _formerly / resort But many there she found, which sore accused His falsehood, and with foule infamous blot

His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did spot:° Ladies and Lords she every where mote heare Complayning, how with his empoysned shot Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare,° And so had left them languishing twixt hope and feare.

vilify

a while before

14 She then the Citties sought from gate to gate, And every one did aske, did he him see; And every one her answerd, that too late He had him seene, and felt the crueltie

Of his sharpe darts and whot artillerie;? And every one threw forth reproches rife®

hot weapons numerous

Of his mischievous deedes, and said, That hee

2. Also travail (labor; i.e., that of childbirth).

3. Le., weary of her long travels she sat down to rest and was cheered by that comfort. 4. Venus’s bird. Venus’s search for the lost Cupid

is based on a Greek poem by Moschus (2nd cen-

tury B.C.E.), often imitated in the Renaissance. 5. Astrological aspects of the planet Venus.

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Was the disturber of all civill life,

The enimy of peace, and author of all strife. uo)

Then in the countrey she abroad him sought, And in the rurall cottages inquired, Where also many plaints to her were brought, How he their heedlesse harts with love had fyred,

And his false venim through their veines inspyred;° And eke® the gentle shepheard swaynes,° which sat Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred, She sweetly heard complaine, both how and what Her sonne had to them doen; yet she did smile thereat.

breathed also /lovers

16

But when in none of all these she him got, She gan avize,° where else he mote him hyde: At last she her bethought, that she had not Yet sought the salvage° woods and forrests wyde, In which full many lovely Nymphes abyde, Mongst whom might be, that he did closely lye, Or that the love of some of them him tyde:° For thy° she thither cast° her course t’apply, To search the secret haunts of Dianes company.

consider wild

bound therefore / resolved

We

Shortly unto the wastefull° woods she came, Whereas she found the Goddesse with her crew, After late chace of their embreweéd® game, Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew,° Some of them washing with the liquid dew From off their dainty limbes the dustie sweat, And soyle which did deforme their lively hew; Others lay shaded from the scorching heat; The rest upon her person gave attendance great.°

desolate bloodstained row

18

She having hong upon a bough on high Her bow and painted quiver, had unlaste® Her silver buskins°® from her nimble thigh, And her lancke loynes® ungirt, and brests unbraste, After her heat the breathing cold to taste; Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright Embreaded were for hindring of her haste,’ Now loose about her shoulders hong undight,° And were with sweet Ambrosia? all besprinckled light. 6. This episode alludes to the myth of Actaeon, who angered the virgin goddess Diana by surprising her in her bath; she transformed him into

unlaced boots slender waist

unbound perfume

a stag, and he was torn apart by his own hounds. 7. Le., her golden locks were braided (“embreaded’”), lest they should hinder her swiftness.

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19

Soone as she Venus saw behind her backe,

She was ashamed to be so loose surprized, And woxe® halfe wroth against her damzels slacke, That had not her thereof before avized,*® But suffred her so carelesly disguized® Be overtaken. Soone her garments loose Upgath ring, in her bosome she comprized,°

waxed, grew

undressed drew together

Well as she might, and to the Goddesse rose,

Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond her enclose. 20

Goodly° she gan faire Cytherea’ greet, And shortly askéd her, what cause her brought Into that wildernesse for her unmeet,’

courteously unsuitable

From her sweete bowres, and beds with pleasures fraught: chance That suddein change she strange adventure® thought. To whom halfe weeping, she thus answered, That she her dearest sonne Cupido sought, stubbornness Who in his frowardnesse® from her was fled; That she repented sore, to have him angeréd. 21

Thereat Diana gan to smile, in scorne

Of her vaine plaint, and to her scoffing sayd; “Great pittie sure, that ye be so forlorne® Of your gay sonne, that gives ye so good ayd To your disports: ill mote ye bene apayd.”'

bereft

But she was more engrievéd, and replide;

“Faire sister, ill beseemes it to upbrayd A dolefull heart with so disdainfull pride; The like that mine, may be your paine another tide.°

time

22

“As you in woods and wanton wildernesse Your glory set, to chace the salvage beasts, So my delight is all in joyfulnesse,

In beds, in bowres, in banckets,° and in feasts:

And ill becomes you with your loftie creasts,° To scorne the joy, that Jove is glad to seeke;

We both are bound to follow heavens beheasts,

And tend our charges° with obeisance meeke: Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my paine to eeke.°

8. l.e., she was half-angered at her nymphs, who were remiss in not warning her (of Venus’s presence). 9, Venus, so named in allusion to her emergence

banquets helmets

duties augment

from the sea near the island of Cythera. 1. Le., your son aids you in your bad sports; may you be repaid in kind by this ill trick he plays on you.

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25 “And tell me, if that ye my sonne have heard, To lurk emongst your Nymphes in secret wize; Or keepe their cabins: much I am affeard, Least° he like one of them him selfe disguize, And turne his arrowes to their exercize:? So may he long himselfe full easie hide: For he is faire and fresh in face and guize,

caves lest

As any Nymph (let not it be envyde.°)” So saying every Nymph full narrowly she eyde.

begrudged

24 But Phoebe® therewith sore was angered, another name for Diana And sharply said; “Goe Dame, goe seeke your boy, Where you him lately left, in Mars his bed;?

He comes not here, we scorne his foolish joy, Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy:° But if Icatch him in this company, By Stygian lake I vow, whose sad annoy® The Gods doe dread,* he dearely shall abye:° Ile clip his wanton wings, that he no more shall fly.”

game grievous affliction suffer

25 Whom when as Venus saw so sore displeased, She inly® sory was, and gan relent,°

inwardly / soften

What she had said: so her she soone appeased,

With sugred words and gentle blandishment,’ Which as a fountaine from her sweet lips went, And welled goodly forth, that in short space She was well pleasd, and forth her damzels sent,

Through all the woods, to search from place to place, If any tract° of him or tydings they mote trace.

track

26

To search the God of love, her Nymphes she sent Throughout the wandring forrest every where: And after them her selfe eke® with her went also To seeke the fugitive, both farre and nere. So long they sought, till they arrived were In that same shadie covert,° whereas lay thicket Faire Crysogone in slombry traunce whilere:° a while before Who in her sleepe (a wondrous thing to say) Unwares had borne two babes, as faire as springing® day. dawning

2. I.e., he may shoot his arrows disguised as one of Diana’s hunting nymphs (also, he may shoot at them, causing them to fall in love). 3. Referring to Venus’s love affair with Mars.

4. An oath sworn on the river Styx even the gods feared to break. 5. In making peace with her opposite, Venus here enacts one of her traditional roles, Concord.

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27 Unwares she them conceived, unwares she bore: She bore withouten paine, that® she conceived what Withouten pleasure: ne her need® implore nor did she need to Lucinaes® aide: which when they both perceived, They were through wonder nigh of sense bereaved, And gazing each on other, nought bespake: At last they both agreed, her seeming grieved® _ oppressed (with sleep) Out of her heavy swowne not to awake,

But from her loving side the tender babes to take. 28

Up they them tooke, each one a babe uptooke, And with them carried, to be fostered; Dame Phoebe to a Nymph her babe betooke,° To be upbrought in perfect Maydenhed,° And of her selfe her name Belphoebe red:° But Venus hers thence farre away convayd, To be upbrought in goodly womanhed, And in her litle loves stead, which was strayd, Her Amoretta’ cald, to comfort her dismayd.

gave in charge virginity called

29

She brought her to her joyous Paradize, Where most she wonnes,? when she on earth does dwel.

dwells

So faire a place, as Nature can devize: Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill, Or it in Gnidus be, I wote not well;®

But well I wote?® by tryall,° that this same

/ experience know

All other pleasant places doth excell,

And calléd is by her lost lovers name, The Gardin of Adonis,? farre renowmd by fame.

30 In that same Gardin all the goodly flowres,

Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie,

And decks the girlonds? of her paramoures,”

garlands / lovers

Are fetcht: there is the first seminarie®

Of all things, that are borne to live and die, According to their kindes.? Long worke it were, Here to account® the endlesse progenie

Of all the weedes,° that bud and blossome there; But so much as doth need, must needs be counted® here.

6. Lucina is another name for Juno (or sometimes Diana) as goddess of childbirth. 7. Because she takes the place of Cupid (Amor), she is named Amoretta, “a little love.”

seedhed

species recount plants _ recounted

8. These are all shrines of Venus. 9. The beautiful young hunter Adonis, passionately loved by Venus, was, in the standard version of the myth, killed by a boar.

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31

It sited° was in fruitfull soyle of old, And girt in with two walles on either side; The one of yron, the other of bright gold, That none might thorough breake, nor over-stride: And double gates it had, which opened wide, By which both in and out men moten® pas;

placed

might

Th’one faire and fresh, the other old and dride:

Old Geniiis' the porter of them was, Old Geniiis, the which a double nature has. 32

He letteth in, he letteth out to wend,° All that to come into the world desire;

go

A thousand thousand naked babes attend

About him day and night, which doe require, That he with fleshly weedes would them attire:? Such as him list,° such as eternall fate Ordainéd hath, he clothes with sinfull mire,° And sendeth forth to live in mortall state, Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate.

as he chooses earth

33

After that they againe returnéd beene, They in that Gardin planted be againe; And grow afresh, as° they had never seene Fleshly corruptién, nor mortall paine. Some thousand yeares so doen they there remaine; And then of him are clad with other hew,°

as if

form

Or sent into the chaungefull world againe, Till thither they returne, where first they grew: So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.? 34 Ne® needs there Gardiner to set, or sow,

neither

To plant or prune: for of their owne accord All things, as they created were, doe grow,

And yet remember well the mightie word, Which first was spoken by th’Almightie lord, That bad them to increase and multiply:+ Ne® doe they need with water of the ford,° Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry; For in themselves eternall moisture they imply.°

1. God of generation and so of the natural processes birth and death. The Garden of Adonis is

a myth of Spenser’s devising. 2. Le., the souls in their preexistent state (“naked

babes”) request to be clothed with flesh.

nor / stream contain

3. The original source for Spenser's myth of cyclic generation and reincarnation is Plato's Republic 10 (the myth of Er). 4. “And God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth” (Genesis 1.28).

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35

Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred, And uncouth® formes, which none yet ever knew,

strange

And every sort is in a sundry° bed Set by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew:°

separate row

Some fit for reasonable soules t’indew,’ Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare,

And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew°® In endlesse rancks along enraungéd® were,

shape arranged

That seem’d the Ocedn could not containe them there. 36

Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent Into the world, it to replenish more;

Yet is the stocke not lessenéd, nor spent, But still remaines in everlasting store,° As it at first created was of yore. For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes, In hatefull darkenesse and in deepe horrore, An huge eternall Chaos,° which supplyes The substances of natures fruitfull progenyes.

abundance

37 first being fetch, their doe thence from All things And borrow matter, whereof they are made,

take enter ghastly matter

Which when as forme and feature it does ketch,° Becomes a bodie and doth then invade®

The state of life,” out of the griesly° shade. That substance? is eterne, and bideth so,

Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade, Doth it consume,” and into nothing go,

is it destroyed

But chaungéd is, and often altred to and fro.

38

The substance is not chaunged, nor altered, But th’only forme? and outward fashién; For every substance is conditioned To change her hew,? and sundry formes to don, Meet? for her temper and complexién: For formes are variable and decay, By course of kind,’ and by occasion, And that faire flowre of beautie fades away,

except only the form

appearance suited

nature

As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.

5. I.e., some of these shapes are fit for humans

to assume. An echo of 1 Corinthians 15.39: “All flesh is not the same flesh: but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds.” 6. The shapeless primeval matter that, in both

classical and Christian

traditions,

supplies the

material for all created things (see, e.g., Ovid, Metamorphoses 1.5—20, and Genesis 1-2). 7. An Aristotelian idea: living beings consist of matter animated and shaped by a form or soul.

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32 Great enimy to it, and to all the rest,

That in the Gardin of Adonis springs, Is wicked Time, who with his scyth addrest,° Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things, And all their glory to the ground downe flings, Where they doe wither, and are fowly mard:° He flyes about, and with his flaggy° wings Beates downe both leaves and buds without regard, Ne ever pittie may relent® his malice hard.

armed

marred drooping soften

40 Yet pittie often did the gods relent, To see so faire things mard, and spoyléd quight:° And their great mother Venus did lament

quite

The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight;

Her hart was pierst with pittie at the sight, When walking through the Gardin, them she spyde, Yet no’te® she find redresse for such despight.° could not / wrong For all that lives, is subject to that law: All things decay in time, and to their end do draw. 41 But were it not, that Time their troubler is,

All that in this delightfull Gardin growes, Should happie be, and have immortall blis: For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes,

And sweet love gentle fits® emongst them throwes, _ i.e., fits of passion Without fell° rancor, or fond® gealosie;

fierce /foolish

Franckly each paramour his leman knowes,*® Each bird his mate, ne any does envie Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.

42 There is continuall spring, and harvest there” Continuall, both meeting at one time:

For both the boughes doe laughing blossomes beare, And with fresh colours decke the wanton Prime,° And eke attonce the heavy trees they clime, Which seeme to labour under their fruits lode: The whiles the joyous birdes make their pastime

spring

Emongst the shadie leaves, their sweet abode,

And their true loves without suspition® tell abrode.

8. Openly each lover has intercourse with (“knowes”) his mistress. 9. The coincidence of spring and autumn is char-

fear

acteristic of unfallen nature in Eden; other features of this description are drawn from a common literary topic, the locus amoenus (pleasant place).

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43

Right in the middest of that Paradise, There stood a stately Mount,' on whose round top

A gloomy? grove of mirtle trees? did rise, Whose shadie boughes sharpe steele did never lop, Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop, But like a girlond compasséd the hight, And from their fruitfull sides sweet gum did drop, That all the ground with precious deaw bedight,° Threw forth most dainty odours, and most sweet delight.

dark, shady

bedecked

44 And in the thickest covert of that shade, There was a pleasant arbour, not by art, But of the trees owne inclination® made,

inclining

dense Which knitting their rancke® braunches part to part, With wanton yvie twyne entrayld athwart,’ honeysuckle And Eglantine, and Caprifole° emong, Fashiond above within their inmost part, press That nether Phoebus beams could through them throng,° god of winds Nor Aeolus® sharp blast could worke them any wrong.

45

And all about grew every sort® of flowre, To which sad lovers were transformd of yore; Fresh Hyacinthus, Phoebus paramoure, And dearest love,’ Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watry shore, Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late,°

species

only recently

Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fate,

To whom sweet Poets verse hath given endlesse date.’ 46

There wont? faire Venus often to enjoy Her deare Adonis joyous company, And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy; There yet, some say, in secret he does ly, Lappéd in flowres and pretious spycery,” By her hid from the world, and from the skill? Of Stygian Gods,° which doe her love envy;

. With allusion to the mons veneris. . Myrtle trees were sacred to Venus. _ Le., with luxuriant ivy entwined among them.

. This quatrain is damaged—in rhyme pattern as well as in the truncated fourth line. 5. The purple Amaranthus is a symbol of immortality; the Greek name means “unfading.” By one poetic account, Amintas died for the love of Phillis

WN

was accustomed

spices

knowledge

and was transformed into the Amaranthus. Hyacinth and Narcissus were also transformed into flowers and thereby eternized. 6. Gods of the underworld (e.g., Pluto, Hecate, the Furies, Charon), who have a claim on Adonis because, in the usual formulation of the myth, he was killed by the boar.

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But she her selfe, when ever that she will, Possesseth® him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill.

i.e., sexually

47

And sooth? it seemes they say: for he may° not

truth / can

For ever die, and ever buried bee

In balefull night, where all things are forgot; All° be he subject to mortalitie, Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,

although

And by succession made perpetuall, Transforméd oft, and chaungéd diverslie:

For him the Father of all formes they call;’ Therefore needs mote? he live, that living gives to all.

must

48 There now he liveth in eternall blis,

Joying® his goddesse, and of her enjoyd:

enjoying

Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,

Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:° For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,°

She firmely hath emprisonéd for ay,° That her sweet love his malice mote® avoyd, In a strong rocky Cave, which is they say, Hewen underneath that Mount, that none him losen® may.

gored injured

forever might set free

49

There now he lives in everlasting joy, With many of the Gods in company, Which thither haunt,° and with the wingéd boy Sporting himselfe in safe felicity: Who when he® hath with spoiles® and cruelty

frequent

plundering

Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts

Of many wretches set his triumphes hye, Thither resorts, and laying his sad darts° Aside, with faire Adonis playes his wanton parts.

arrows

50 And his true love faire Psyche with him playes,’ Faire Psyche to him lately reconcyld, After long troubles and unmeet upbrayes,! With which his mother Venus her revyld,° And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld: But now in stedfast love and happy state

reviled

She with him lives, and hath him borne a chyld, 7. Adonis imposes successive forms on enduring substance and thereby brings living creatures into being.

not to look on his face; she became his bride, and immortal, after enduring many severe trials imposed by Venus. The myth was often read as an

8. Cupid, now restored to Venus. 9. Suggests, as well, sexual play. Cupid aban-

allegory of the soul’s trials in this life before it gains heaven.

doned Psyche when she disobeyed his command

1. Unfitting upbraidings or scoldings.

HhiEVENERTERQUWEENE,

sBlOOIKiSr

CANTO?

Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate,° Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Psyche late.°

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gratify recently born

51 Hither great Venus brought this infant faire, The younger daughter of Chrysogonee, And unto Psyche with great trust and care Committed her, yfosteréd to bee,

And trainéd up in true feminitee:° Who no lesse carefully her tenderéd,°

womanliness cared for

Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom shee Made her companion, and her lessonéd In all the lore of love, and goodly womanhead. 52

In which when she to perfect ripenesse grew, Of grace and beautie noble Paragone, She brought her forth into the worldés vew, To be th’ensample of true love alone, And Lodestarre® of all chaste affectiéne,

To all faire Ladies, that doe live on ground. To Faery court she came, where many one Admyrd her goodly haveour,° and found His feeble hart wide launched? with loves cruell wound.

guiding star

demeanor pierced

53 But she to none of them her love did cast,

Save to the noble knight Sir Scudamore,” To whom her loving hart she linked fast In faithfull love, t’abide for evermore, And for his dearest sake enduréd sore,

Sore trouble of an hainous enimy; Who her would forcéd have to have forlore® Her former love, and stedfast loyalty, As ye may elsewhere read that ruefull history.’

forsaken

Cantos 7 and 8 focus especially on the adventures Cantos 7—10 Summary of the beautiful maiden Florimell, who, always in flight from threatening males, narand rowly escapes a series of disasters. Cantos 9 and 10 tell the story of the aged elopement her Hellenore; wife, young lusty fanatically jealous miser Malbecco; his transwith the knight Paridell; Malbecco’s fruitless pursuit of them; and his eventual formation into the allegorical figure of Jealousy.

2. See canto 11, stanza 7, n. 8. 3. The final, transitional stanza of the canto is omitted.

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Canto 11

Britomart chaceth Ollyphant,

findes Scudamour distrest: Assayes° the house of Busyrane, where Loves spoyles° are exprest.°

assails

plunders / displayed

I

O Hatefull hellish Snake,° what furie furst

i.e., jealousy

Brought thee from balefull house of Proserpine,* Where in her bosome she thee long had nurst,

And fostred up with bitter milke of tine,°

anguish

Fowle Gealosie, that turnest love divine To joylesse dread, and mak’st the loving hart

With hatefull thoughts to languish and to pine, And feed it selfe with selfe-consuming smart? Of all the passions in the mind thou vilest art. 2

O let him far be banishéd away, And in his stead let Love for ever dwell,

Sweet Love, that doth his golden wings embay° In blesséd Nectar,° and pure Pleasures well, Untroubled of? vile feare, or bitter fell.°

steep

the drink of the gods by / gall, rancor

And ye faire Ladies, that your kingdomes make In th’harts of men, them governe wisely well, And of faire Britomart ensample take, That was as trew in love, as Turtle to her make.®

3 Who with Sir Satyrane, as earst ye red,°

Forth ryding from Malbeccoes hostlesse® hous, Far off aspyde a young man, the which fled From an huge Geaunt, that with hideous And hatefull outrage long him chacéd thus; It was that Ollyphant, the brother deare Of that Argante vile and vitious,° From whom the Squire of Dames was reft whylere;° This all as bad as she, and worse, if worse ought° were.’

inhospitable

vicious

formerly

anything

4 For as the sister did in feminine

And filthy lust exceede all woman kind, 4. Queen of Hades and consort of Pluto. The snake is an attribute of Envy, to which Jealousy is related; also the hair of the vengeful deities, the

Furies, is made up of snakes. 5. The turtledove was a common symbol of matrimonial love and fidelity. 6. l.e., as the reader saw earlier (in canto 10,

stanza 1). Satyrane had first appeared in Book 1, canto 6, stanzas 20-48.

7. Ollyphant and Argante, brother and sister giants, lived in incest and practiced many other sexual evils. Satyrane rescued the exceptionally promiscuous Squire of Dames from Argante in Book 3, canto 7, stanzas 37—38.

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So he surpasséd his sex masculine, In beastly use that I did ever find; Whom when as Britomart beheld behind The fearefull boy so greedily pursew, She was emmovéed in her noble mind,

T’employ her puissaunce® to his reskew, And prickéd?® fiercely forward, where she him did vew.

power spurred

5

Ne was Sir Satyrane her far behinde, But with like fiercenesse did ensew® the chace: Whom when the Gyaunt saw, he soone resinde® His former suit, and from them fled apace; They after both, and boldly bad him bace,° And each did strive the other to out-goe, But he them both outran a wondrous space, For he was long, and swift as any Roe,° And now made better speed, t’escape his fearéd foe.

follow resigned

challenged him

female deer

6

It was not Satyrane, whom he did feare, But Britomart the flowre of chastity; For he the powre of chast hands might not beare, But alwayes did their dread encounter fly: And now so fast his feet he did apply,° That he has gotten to a forrest neare, Where he is shrowded in security. The wood they enter, and search every where,

They searchéd diversely,° so both divided were.

direct

in different directions

”,

Faire Britomart so long him followed,

That she at last came to a fountaine sheare,°

By which there lay a knight all wallowed® Upon the grassy ground, and by him neare His haberjeon,° his helmet, and his speare;

A little off, his shield was rudely throwne,

On which the winged boy? in colours cleare Depeincted? was, full easie to be knowne, And he thereby, where ever it in field was showne.®

clear

lying prostrate coat of mail Cupid depicted

8

His face upon the ground did groveling® ly, As if he had bene slombring in the shade, That the brave Mayd would not for courtesy, Out of his quiet slomber him abrade,’ Nor seeme too suddeinly him to invade: 8. The knight’s shield implies that he is the Sir Scudamore mentioned in the prefatory quatrain.

prone

arouse intrude on

(Italian scudo + amore: “shield of love”)

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Still° as she stood, she heard with grievous throb Him grone, as if his hart were peeces made, And with most painefull pangs to sigh and sob, That pitty did the Virgins hart of patience rob.

ever

oI At last forth breaking into bitter plaintes He said, “O soveraigne Lord that sit’st on hye, And raignst in blis emongst thy blesséd Saintes, How suffrest thou such shamefull cruelty, So long unwreaked?® of thine enimy?

unrevenged

Or hast thou, Lord, of good mens cause no heed?

Or doth thy justice sleepe, and silent ly? what What booteth® then the good and righteous deed, If goodnesse find no grace, nor righteousnesse no meed?°

is the use of

reward

ife)

“If good find grace, and righteousnesse reward, Why then is Amoret in caytive band,° Sith® that more bounteous® creature never fared On foot, upon the face of living land? Or if that heavenly justice may withstand The wrongfull outrage of unrighteous men, Why then is Busirane? with wicked hand Suffred,° these seven monethes day in secret den My Lady and my love so cruélly to pen?

captive bond

since / virtuous

permitted

II

“My Lady and my love is cruelly pend In dolefull darkenesse from the vew of day, Whilest deadly torments do her chast brest rend, And the sharpe steele doth rive® her hart in tway,° All for? she Scudamore will not denay.°

cut / two because / deny

Yet thou vile man, vile Scudamore art sound,

Ne® canst her ayde, ne® canst her foe dismay;° Unworthy wretch to tread upon the ground, For whom so faire a Lady feeles so sore a wound.”

neither / nor / defeat

12

There an huge heape of singulfes° did oppresse His strugling soule, and swelling throbs empeach?® His foltring toung with pangs of drerinesse,° Choking the remnant of his plaintife speach, As if his dayes were come to their last reach. Which when she heard, and saw the ghastly fit, Threatning into his life to make a breach,

sobs hinder

anguish

9, His name associates him with Busiris, an Egyptian king famous for his cruelty and identified with the Pharaoh of Exodus; hence he is a symbol of tyranny.

MES

PAE RIE

OWERENE,

BOOT

Se

GANTO

Both with great ruth® and terrour she was smit, Fearing least® from her cage the wearie soule would flit.

TC

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pity lest

se

Tho® stooping downe she him amoved? light; Who therewith somewhat starting, up gan looke, And seeing him behind a straunger knight, Whereas no living creature he mistooke,° With great indignaunce he that sight forsooke, And downe againe himselfe disdainefully Abjecting, th’earth with his faire forhead strooke: Which the bold Virgin seeing, gan apply Fit medcine to his griefe, and spake thus courtesly.

then / touched thought to be

14 “Ah gentle knight, whose deepe conceived griefe Well seemes t’exceede the powre of patiénce, Yet if that heavenly grace some good reliefe You send, submit you to high providence, And ever in your noble hart prepense,° That all the sorrow in the world is lesse, Then vertues might, and values°® confidence, For who nill° bide the burden of distresse, Must not here thinke to live: for life is wretchednesse.

consider before valor's

will not

a5 “Therefore, faire Sir, do comfort to you take,

tell And freely read,? what wicked felon so Hath outraged you, and thrald° your gentle make.° enslaved / beloved Perhaps this hand may helpe to ease your woe, revenge And wreake?® your sorrow on your cruell foe, At least it faire endevour will apply.” heart Those feeling wordes so neare the quicke® did goe, readily easily,° That up his head he rearéd

And leaning on his elbow, these few wordes let fly. 16

“What boots it plaine, that cannot be redrest,! And sow vaine sorrow in a fruitlesse eare,

Sith powre of hand, nor skill of learned brest, Ne worldly price cannot redeeme my deare, Out of her thraldome® and continuall feare? For he the tyraunt, which her hath in ward® By strong enchauntments and blacke Magicke leare,° Hath in a dungeon deepe her close embard, And many dreadfull feends hath pointed? to her gard,

1. What is the use of complaining for what cannot be helped?

slavery in his power lore

appointed

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Ly)

“There he tormenteth her most terribly, And day and night afflicts with mortall paine, Because to yield him love she doth deny,

Once to me yold,° not to be yold againe:? But yet by torture he would her constraine Love to conceive in her disdainfull brest; Till so she do, she must in doole® remaine,

yielded dole, pain

Ne may by living meanes be thence relest: What boots it then to plaine, that cannot be redrest?” 18

With this sad hersall° of his heavy stresse,° rehearsal; tale / affliction The warlike Damzell was empassiond sore, And said, “Sir knight, your cause is nothing lesse, Then? is your sorrow, certés if not more;*

For nothing so much pitty doth implore, As gentle Ladies helplesse misery. But yet, if please ye listen to my lore,° I will with proofe of last extremity,’ Deliver her fro thence, or with her for you dy.”

than

teaching

19

“Ah gentlest° knight alive,” said Scudamore, “What huge heroicke magnanimity’ Dwels in thy bounteous brest? what couldst thou more, If she were thine, and thou as now am I? O spare thy happy dayes, and them apply To better boot,° but let me dye, that ought; More is more losse: one is enough to dy.”

noblest

use

“Life is not lost,” said she, “for which is bought

Endlesse renowm, that more then death is to be sought.” 20

Thus she at length perswaded him to rise, And with her wend,° to see what new successe Mote? him befall upon new enterprise; His armes, which he had vowed to disprofesse,° She gathered up and did about him dresse,° And his forwandred?® steed unto him got: So forth they both yfere® make their progresse, And march not past the mountenaunce of a shot, Till they arrived, whereas their purpose they did plot.®

2. Scudamore’s courtship and winning of Amoret as his love was recounted in canto 4, stanza 10. 3. Le., certainly (“certés”) your cause is worthy of your great sorrow, or even more. 4. L.e., at the extreme peril of my life.

go might renounce array wandered away together

5. Nobility of mind, which produces the highest virtues and the greatest deeds. 6. l.e., they went no farther than the distance of a bow shot before they arrived at the place they purposed to go.

THE

FAERIE

OUEENE,

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Ss esGANTOM

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21

There they dismounting, drew their weapons bold

And stoutly° came unto the Castle gate;

bravely

Whereas no gate they found, them to withhold,

Nor ward? to wait at morne and evening late, But in the Porch, that did them sore amate,° A flaming fire, ymixt with smouldry smoke, And stinking Sulphure, that with griesly° hate And dreadfull horrour did all entraunce choke, Enforcéd them their forward footing to revoke.°

guard dismay

horrid

draw back

22 Greatly thereat was Britomart dismayd, Ne in that stownd wist,’ how her selfe to beare; For daunger vaine it were, to have assayd® That cruell element, which all things feare, Ne none can suffer to approchen neare: And turning backe to Scudamour, thus sayd;

attempted

challenge

“What monstrous enmity provoke® we heare,

Foolhardy as th’Earthes children, the which made Battell against the Gods?* so we a God invade. a) “Daunger without discretion to attempt,

Inglorious and beastlike is: therefore Sir knight, Aread? what course of you is safest dempt,° And how we with our foe may come to fight.” “This is,” quoth he, “the dolorous despight,°

Which earst® to you I playnd:° for neither may

declare / deemed evil

r of /complained earlie

This fire be quencht by any wit or might,

Ne yet by any meanes remov'd away, So mighty be th’enchauntments, which the same do stay.°

maintain

24 “What is there else, but cease these fruitlesse paines, And leave me to my former languishing? Faire Amoret must dwell in wicked chaines, And Scudamore here dye with sorrowing.” “Perdy° not so,” said she, “for shamefull thing It were t’abandon noble chevisaunce,°

truly chivalric enterprise

For shew of perill, without venturing: Rather let try extremities of chaunce, Then enterpriséd prayse for dread to disavaunce.””

7. Le., nor in that trouble (“stownd”) did she know (“wist”) what to do. 8. Le., we are like the Titans who dared to do battle against the Olympian gods.

9. Le., it is better to chance extreme danger than retreat from praiseworthy enterprises because of fear.

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25

Therewith resolv’d to prove her utmost might, Her ample shield she threw before her face,

And her swords point directing forward right, Assayld the flame, the which eftsoones?® gave place, immediately And did it selfe divide with equall space,° equally on both sides That through she passéd; as a thunder bolt Perceth the yielding ayre, and doth displace The soring clouds into sad showres ymolt;° melted So to her yold® the flames, and did their force revolt.° yielded / turn back 26

Whom whenas Scudamour saw past the fire, Safe and untoucht, he likewise gan assay,°

attempt

With greedy will, and envious desire, And bad?® the stubborne flames to yield him way: But cruell Mulciber° would not obay

His threatfull pride, but did the more augment His mighty rage, and with imperious sway° Him forst (maulgre)° his fiercenesse to relent,° And backe retire, all scorcht and pitifully brent.

bade god offire

power nevertheless / give way

27.

With huge impatiénce he inly swelt,° More for great sorrow, that he could not pas,

inwardly burned

Then for the burning torment, which he felt, That with fell woodnesse he effiercéd was,!

And wilfully him throwing on the gras, Did beat and bounse?® his head and brest full sore; thump The whiles the Championesse now entred has The utmost? rowme, and past the formest® dore — outermost /foremost The utmost rowme, abounding with all precious store.° goods 28

For round about, the wals yclothéd were With goodly arras° of great majesty, Woven with gold and silke so close and nere,° That the rich metall lurked privily,° As faining® to be hid from envious eye; Yet here, and there, and every where unwares° It shewd it selfe, and shone unwillingly; Like a discolourd® Snake, whose hidden snares

tapestries tight secretly enjoying unexpectedly multicolored

Through the greene gras his long bright burnisht backe declares. 29

And in those Tapets® weren fashioned Many faire pourtraicts, and many a faire feate, ]. Ie.

, he was maddened with fierce fury.

tapestries

Hie

bAERIE

TOUEENE,

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439

And all of love, and all of lusty-hed,

As seeméd by their semblaunt did entreat;* And eke? all Cupids warres they did repeate,° And cruell battels, which he whilome® fought

also / recount

formerly

Gainst all the Gods, to make his empire great;

Besides the huge massacres, which he wrought On mighty kings and kesars,° into thraldome brought.

cdaesars

30 Therein was writ,° how often thundring Jove Had felt the point of his hart-percing dart, And leaving heavens kingdome, here did rove In straunge disguize, to slake his scalding smart; Now like a Ram, faire Helle to pervart, Now like a Bull, Europa to withdraw:?

woven

Ah, how the fearefull Ladies tender hart

Did lively° seeme to tremble, when she saw The huge seas under her t’obay her servaunts? law.

lifelike lover's

31 Soone after that into a golden showre Him selfe he chaunged faire Danaé to vew, And through the roofe of her strong brasen towre Did raine into her lap an hony dew,* The whiles her foolish garde, that little knew Of such deceipt, kept th’yron dore fast bard, And watcht, that none should enter nor issew;° Vaine was the watch, and bootlesse® all the ward,

go out

useless

Whenas the God to golden hew him selfe transfard.’

a2 Then was he turnd into a snowy Swan,

To win faire Leda to his lovely® trade:° O wondrous skill, and sweet wit° of the man,

That her in daffadillies sleeping made, From scorching heat her daintie limbes to shade: Whiles the proud Bird ruffing® his fethers wyde, And brushing? his faire brest, did her invade;

She slept, yet twixt her eyelids closely® spyde, How towards her he rusht, and smiléd at his pryde.°

loving ingenuity

ruffling preening

secretly sexual desire

33 Then shewd it, how the Thebane Semelee

Deceived of gealous Juno, did require

2. Le., the pictures (“pourtraicts”) seemed, by their appearance (“semblaunt”), to treat entirely of deeds of love and merriment (“lusty-hed”). 3. A golden ram (not specifically identified in legend as Jove) came to carry away (“pervart”) Helle from the fury of her stepmother, Ino. Jove assumed the shape of a bull to seduce Europa and carried

her over the seas. 4. In another part of the tapestry (“soone after”) Jove is shown as a shower of gold, impregnating Danaé. 5. Transmuted himself into golden form. 6. Jove became a swan to seduce Leda.

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To see him in his soveraigne majestee,

Armd with his thunderbolts and lightning fire, Whence dearely she with death bought her desire.’ But faire Alemena better match did make,

Joying his love in likenesse more entire; Three nights in one, they say, that for her sake He then did put, her pleasures lenger® to partake.®

longer

S4

Twise was he seene in soaring Eagles shape, And with wide wings to beat the buxome?® ayre, Once, when he with Asterie did scape, Againe, when as the Trojane boy so faire He snatcht from Ida hill, and with him bare:?

yielding

Wondrous delight it was, there to behould,

How the rude Shepheards after him did stare, Trembling through feare, least? down he fallen should, And often to him calling, to take surer hould.

lest

35

In Satyres shape Antiopa he snatcht: And like a fire, when he Aegin’ assayd: A shepheard, when Mnemosyne he catcht: And like a Serpent to the Thracian mayd.! Whiles thus on earth great Jove these pageaunts? playd, The wingéd boy did thrust into°® his throne,

tricks

usurped

And scoffing, thus unto his mother sayd,

“Lo now the heavens obey to me alone, And take me for their Jove, while Jove to earth is gone.” 36

And thou, faire Phoebus, in thy colours bright Wast there enwoven, and the sad distresse,

In which that boy thee plongéd, for despight, That thou bewrayedst° his mothers wantonnesse, When she with Mars was meynt? in joyfulnesse: For thy° he thrild° thee with a leaden dart, To love faire Daphne, which thee loved lesse:

revealed mingled, joined therefore / pierced

Lesse she thee loved, then® was thy just desart,

Yet was thy love her death, and her death was thy smart.°

7. Juno tricked Semele into having Jove visit her

in all his glory. She was burned to death by his lightning and thunderbolts. 8. Jove visited Alemena in the likeness of her husband, Amphitryon, and made that one night the length of three. 9. Asterie changed herself into a quail to avoid Jove’s advances, but he captured her as an eagle; in that form he also snatched Ganymede, who became cupbearer to the gods.

than pain

1. Jove came as a satyr to Antiope; in fire to Aegina; as a shepherd to Mnemosyne, goddess of memory (who bore the Nine Muses); and as a serpent to Proserpina, “the Thracian mayd.” 2. Two stories are combined: Apollo's punishment for revealing Venus’s adultery with Mars was “the sad distresse” of doting on Leucothoe; later he chased Daphne, who escaped by metamorphosis into a laurel tree. Cupid’s lead-tipped arrows produce unhappiness in love.

THE

FAERIE

QUEENE,

BOOK

3,

CANTON

So lovedst thou the lusty® Hyacinct, So lovedst thou the faire Coronis deare:

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handsome

Yet both are of° thy haplesse hand extinct,

by

Yet both in flowres do live, and love thee beare, The one a Paunce, the other a sweet breare:*

For griefe whereof, ye mote have lively° seene

lifelike

The God himselfe rending his golden heare,

And breaking quite his gyrlond® ever greene, With other signes of sorrow and impatient teene.°

garland grief

Both for those two, and for his owne deare sonne, The sonne of Climene he did repent,

Who bold to guide the charet of the Sunne, Himselfe in thousand peeces fondly rent,* And all the world with flashing fier brent; So like, that all the walles did seeme to flame. Yet cruell Cupid, not herewith content,

Forst him eftsoones° to follow other game, And love a Shepheards daughter for his dearest Dame.

soon after

39 He loved Isse for his dearest Dame, And for her sake her cattell fed a while, And for her sake a cowheard vile® became, The servant of Admetus cowheard vile, Whiles that from heaven he sufferéd exile.’

Long were to tell each other lovely fit, Now like a Lyon, hunting after spoile, Now like a Stag, now like a faulcon flit:°

lowly

amorous

passion

fleet

All which, in that faire arras was most lively writ.

Next unto him was Neptune? pictured, In his divine resemblance wondrous lyke: His face was rugged, and his hoarie® hed Droppéd with brackish® deaw; his three-forkt Pyke He stearnly shooke, and therewith fierce did stryke The raging billowes, that on every syde They trembling stood, and made a long broad dyke,” 3. Apollo accidentally killed his lover Hyacinth at a game of quoits and transformed him into a

flower (“paunce,” pansy); he killed Coronis out of

jealousy, but her transformation to a sweetbriar seems to be Spenser's invention.

4. Foolishly tore apart. Phaéthon, son of Apollo and Climene, extracted permission to drive the chariot of the Sun through the heavens; unable to control the horses, he killed himself and almost

gray salty

trench

burned up the world. 5. Two stories are combined: Apollo disguising himself as a shepherd to gain Isse, and serving Admetus, king of Pheres in Thessaly, as a cowherd. 6. The god of the sea; here portrayed with his trident (“three-forkt Pyke”) and riding in a char-

iot (“charet”) drawn by a team of four sea horses (“Hippodames’).

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That his swift charet might have passage wyde, Which foure great Hippodames did draw in temewise tyde.°

harnessed

41

His sea-horses did seeme to snort amayne,° And from their nosethrilles®° blow the brynie streame, That made the sparckling waves to smoke agayne, And flame with gold, but the white fomy creame,

violently nostrils

Did shine with silver, and shoot forth his beame.

The God himselfe did pensive seeme and sad, And hong adowne his head, as° he did dreame: For privy°® love his brest empiercéd had, Ne ought but deare Bisaltis’ ay° could make him glad.

as if secret ever

42 He lovéd eke® Iphimedia deare, And Aeolus faire daughter Arne hight,° For whom he turnd him selfe into a Steare,°

And fed on fodder, to beguile® her sight. Also to win Deucalions daughter bright,° He turnd him selfe into a Dolphin fayre;® And like a wingéd horse he tooke his flight, To snaky-locke Medusa to repayre,° On whom he got faire Pegasus, that flitteth in the ayre.?

also called

steer deceive

beautiful

resort

43 Next Saturne was, (but who would ever weene,° That sullein Saturne ever weend? to love? Yet love is sullein,? and Saturnlike seene,

As he did for Erigone it prove,) That to a Centaure did him selfe transmove. So prooved it eke that gracious® God of wine, When for to compasse?® Philliras hard love,

think was minded

melancholy

graceful gain

He turnd himselfe into a fruitfull vine,

And into her faire bosome made his grapes decline.!

44 Long were to tell the amorous assayes,° And gentle pangues, with which he° makéd meeke The mighty Mars, to learne his wanton playes: How oft for Venus, and how often eek°®

For many other Nymphes he sore did shreek, With womanish teares, and with unwarlike smarts,° 7. In Greek myth phane who made to her in the form 8. Neptune came

it was Bisaltes’s daughter TheoNeptune happy: he made love of a ram. to Iphimedia as a flowing river,

to Arne as a steer, and to Deucalion’s

daughter

Melantho as a dolphin. 9. Neptune’s ravishment of Medusa in Minerva’s temple caused her hair to be turned into snakes;

assaults

i.e., Cupid also pains

she gave birth to the winged horse Pegasus. 1. Hang down. Saturn, associated with melancholy, is not usually portrayed as a lover. Spenser here transposes two myths: Saturn loved Philyra (“Philliras”) not Erigone, from which union came

the centaur Chiron; Bacchus (“God of wine”) tricked Erigone with a false bunch of grapes.

HE

SE NE RIE TOE

NER ab OOK

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Privily° moystening his horrid® cheek. secretly / bristly There was he painted full of burning darts,° arrows And many wide woundes launchéd? through his inner parts. torn 4

Ne did he spare (so cruell was the Elfe) His owne deare mother, (ah why should he so?)

Ne did he spare sometime to pricke himselfe, That he might tast the sweet consuming woe, Which he had wrought to many others moe.° But to declare the mournfull Tragedyes, And spoiles,° wherewith he all the ground did strow, More eath® to number, with how many eyes High heaven beholds sad lovers nightly theeveryes.?

more plunder easy

46

Kings Queenes, Lords Ladies, Knights and Damzels gent® gentle Were heaped together with the vulgar sort, And mingled with the raskall rablement,° rabble, masses Without respect of person or of port,° position To shew Dan® Cupids powre and great effort:° master / strength And round about a border was entrayld,° woven Of broken bowes and arrowes shivered? short, splintered And a long bloudy river through them rayld,° flowed So lively and so like, that living sence it fayld.* 47

And at the upper end of that faire rowme, There was an Altar built of pretious stone, Of passing® valew, and of great renowme, On which there stood an Image all alone, Of massy°® gold, which with his owne light shone; And wings it had with sundry colours dight,° More sundry colours, then the proud Pavone® Beares in his boasted fan, or Iris° bright,

surpassing solid adorned peacock

goddess ofthe rainbow

When her discolourd* bow she spreds through heaven bright. 48 Blindfold he was, and in his cruell fist

A mortall° bow and arrowes keene did hold, deadly when it pleased him With which he shot at randon, when him list,° Some headed with sad lead, some with pure gold;’ (Ah man beware, how thou those darts behold) A wounded Dragon® under him did ly, Whose hideous tayle his left foot did enfold, 2. I.e., it would be easier to number the stars (“eyes”) that watch lovers’ nightly exploits (“theeveryes”; i.e., thieveries) than the tragedies

caused by love. 3. Le., so animated and so lifelike that it deceived (“fayld”) the senses of those looking on.

4. Multicolored. 5. Cupid, by tradition blindfolded, shoots at random (“randon”). His leaden arrows cause unhap-

piness in love; his golden arrows, happiness. ly symbolic of vigilance. a guard, 6. Traditional

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And with a shaft was shot through either eye, That no man forth might draw, ne no man remedye. a9 And underneath his feet was written thus,

Unto the Victor of the Gods this bee: And all the people in that ample hous Did to that image bow their humble knee, And oft committed fowle Idolatree. That wondrous sight faire Britomart amazed, Ne seeing could her wonder satisfie, But ever more and more upon it gazed, The whiles the passing® brightnes her fraile sences dazed. — surpassing 50

Tho® as she backward? cast her busie eye, To search each secret of that goodly sted,° Over the dore thus written she did spye

then /i.e., behind the statue place

Be bold: she oft and oft it over-red,

Yet could not find what sence it figured: But what so were therein or® writ or ment,

either

She was no whit thereby discouraged From prosecuting of her first intent, But forward with bold steps into the next roome went. 51 Much fairer, then® the former, was that roome,

And richlier by many partes arayd:’ For not with arras made in painefull® loome, But with pure gold it all was overlayd, Wrought with wilde Antickes,* which their follies playd In the rich metall, as° they living were:

than

painstaking >

A thousand monstrous formes therein were made,

as if

Such as false love doth oft upon him weare, For love in thousand monstrous formes doth oft appeare.

52 And all about, the glistring® walles were hong glittering With warlike spoiles, and with victorious prayes,° prizes Of mighty Conquerours and Captaines strong, Which were whilome?® captivéd in their dayes formerly To cruell love, and wrought their owne decayes: Their swerds and speres were broke, and hauberques? rent; And their proud girlonds of tryumphant bayes! Troden in dust with fury insolent, To shew the victors might and mercilesse intent. 7. I.e., much (“by many partes”) more richly decorated (“arayd”). 8. Grotesque statues.

9. Coats of mail. “Swerds”: swords. 1. Wreaths of laurel (“bayes”) were tr aditionally awarded

to great military conquerors.

Wine

TeMEME

COMUMAIEINIE.

TOKO.

Sh

(UN Gr)

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53 The warlike Mayde beholding earnestly The goodly ordinance? of this rich place,

ordnance, military supplies

Did greatly wonder, ne could satisfie Her greedy eyes with gazing a long space, But more she mervaild that no footings trace,°

Nor wight appear’d, but wastefull° emptinesse, And solemne silence over all that place: Straunge thing it seem’d, that none was to possesse So rich purveyance,° ne them keepe with carefulnesse.

trace of footprints

uninhabited furnishings

54 And as she lookt about, she did behold,

How over that same dore was likewise writ,

Be bold, be bold, and every where Be bold, That much she muz’d, yet could not cénstrue it By any ridling skill, or commune wit.° At last she spyde at that roomes upper end, Another yron dore, on which was writ, Be not too bold; whereto though she did bend Her earnest mind, yet wist not what it might intend.°

common sense

mean

55

Thus she there waited untill eventyde, Yet living creature none she saw appeare: And now sad° shadowes gan the world to hyde, From mortall vew, and wrap in darkenesse dreare; Yet nould® she d’off her weary armes, for feare

Of secret daunger, ne let sleepe oppresse Her heavy eyes with natures burdein deare, But drew her selfe aside in sickernesse,° And her welpointed weapons did about her dresse.*

somber would not

safety

Canto 12

The maske? of Cupid, and thenchaunted Chamber are displayd,

Whence Britomart redeemes faire Amoret, through charmes decayd.°

wasted away

I

Tho° when as chearelesse Night ycovered had

then

Faire heaven with an universall cloud,

2. Her well-appointed (and/or sharp) weapons she drew (“did dresse”) about her. 3. This episode resembles a court masque (elaborate dramatic presentation) with allegorical personages and emblematic clothing and props. It is also a “Triumph” (ceremonial victory parade) of

Cupid, who is preceded and followed by the allegorical qualities that attend on his reign and who displays Amoret as the spoils of his victory, the victim of the attitudes toward love which he promotes.

446

EDMUND

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That every wight dismayd with darknesse sad,° sober In silence and in sleepe themselves did shroud, She heard a shrilling Trompet sound aloud, Signe of nigh® battell, or got° victory; approaching / achieved Nought therewith daunted was her courage proud, But rather stird to cruell°® enmity,

Expecting® ever, when some foe she might descry.°

fierce

_ waiting / perceive

2

With that, an hideous storme of winde arose,

With dreadfull thunder and lightning atwixt, And an earth-quake, as if it streight® would lose°® immediately / loosen The worlds foundations from his centre fixt;

A direfull stench of smoke and sulphure mixt Ensewd, whose noyance? fild the fearefull sted,° annoyance / place From the fourth houre of night untill the sixt;* Yet the bold Britonesse was nought ydred, Though much emmoved, but stedfast still persevered. 3 All suddenly a stormy whirlwind blew Throughout the house, that clappéd® every dore, With which that yron wicket° open flew, As° it with mightie levers had bene tore: And forth issewd, as on the ready flore Of some Theatre, a grave personage, That in his hand a branch of laurell bore, With comely haveéur° and count’nance sage,

slammed door as if

pleasing bearing

Yclad in costly garments, fit for tragicke Stage. 4

Proceeding to the midst, he still did stand, As if in mind he somewhat had to say, And to the vulgar® beckning with his hand, In signe of silence, as to heare a play, By lively actiéns he gan bewray?®

groundlings reveal

Some argument of matter passionéd;

Which doen, he backe retyréd soft away, And passing by, his name discoveréd,° Ease, on his robe in golden letters cypheréd.>

revealed

5

The noble Mayd, still standing all this vewd, And merveild at his strange intendiment;° With that a joyous fellowship issewd 4. Night begins at 6 p.m., so these effects take place from 10 p.m. to midnight, when the masque begins. 5. l.e., by pantomime he indicates that the subject (‘argument’) of the masque concerns pas-

purpose

sion. The part of presenter is taken by Ease, suggesting that it predisposes to lechery. Similarly, Idleness leads the procession of the Seven Deadly Sins (Book 1, canto 4, stanzas 18—20).

THE

SPAERIETOURENE,

BOOiks

3,

(CANTO

Of Minstrals, making goodly meriment, With wanton Bardes, and Rymers impudent, All which together sung full chearefully A lay® of loves delight, with sweet concent:° After whom marcht a jolly company, In manner of a maske, enrangéd orderly.®

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447

song / harmony

6

The whiles a most delirious harmony, In full straunge notes was sweetly heard to sound, That the rare sweetnesse of the melody The feeble senses wholly did confound, And the fraile soule in deepe delight nigh dround: And when it ceast, shrill trompets loud did bray,

That their report® did farre away rebound, And when they ceast, it gan againe to play, The whiles the maskers marchéd forth in trim aray.

echo

7.

The first was Fancy,’ like a lovely boy, Of rare aspect, and beautie without peare;°

peer, equal

Matchable either to that ympe of Troy,® Whom Jove did love, and chose his cup to beare, Or that same daintie lad, which was so deare To great Alcides,’? that when as he dyde, He wailéd womanlike with many a teare,

And every wood, and every valley wyde He fild with Hylas name; the Nymphes eke® Hylas cryde.

also

8 fine wool His garment neither was of silke nor say,° But painted plumes, in goodly order dight,° placed Like as the sunburnt Indians?° do aray Native Americans Their tawney bodies, in their proudest plight:° attire As those same plumes, so seemd he vaine and light, That by his gate°® might easily appeare; gait For still® he far’d as dauncing in delight, ever And in his hand a windy® fan did beare, causing wind That in the idle aire he mov’d still here and there.

S

And him beside marcht amorous Desyre, Who seemd of riper yeares, then th’other Swaine,” Yet was that other swayne this elders syre, And gave him being, commune to them twaine: 6. As here, most masques had twelve masquers, forming six couples. The love song at the processional is performed by musicians (“Min-

strals”) and poets of varying quality (“Bardes” and “Rymers’).

lover

7. The mind’s power to produce images that are often misleading or false. 8. Ganymede, as in canto 11, stanza 34.

9. Hercules, whose beloved Hylas was drowned.

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His garment was disguiséd very vaine,!

And his embrodered Bonet sat awry; Twixt both his hands few sparkes he close did straine,°

clasp

Which still he blew, and kindled busily,

That soone they life conceiv’d, and forth in flames did fly. fe)

Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad

In a discolour’d® cote, of straunge disguyse, That at his backe a brode Capuccio had, And sleeves dependant Albanese-wyse:? He lookt askew with his mistrustfull eyes, And nicely® trode, as°® thornes lay in his way, Or that the flore to shrinke he did avyse, And on a broken reed he still did stay

multicolored

cautiously / as if

His feeble steps, which shrunke, when hard theron he lay.

With him went Daunger, clothed in ragged weed,°

garment

Made of Beares skin, that him more dreadfull made, Yet his owne face was dreadfull, ne did need,

Straunge horrour, to deforme his griesly shade; A net in th’one hand, and a rustie blade+ In th’other was, this Mischiefe, that Mishap; With th’one his foes he threatned to invade,° With th’other he his friends ment to enwrap:

For whom he could not kill, he practizd® to entrap.

attack plotted

Next him was Feare, all arm’d from top to toe, Yet thought himselfe not safe enough thereby, But feard each shadow moving to and fro, And his owne armes when glittering he did spy, Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly, As ashes pale of hew, and wingyheeld;’ And evermore on Daunger fixt his eye, Gainst whom he alwaies bent? a brasen shield,

Which his right hand unarméd fearefully did wield.

turned

I3

With him went Hope in rancke, a handsome Mayd, Of chearefull looke and lovely to behold; 1. Le., Desire seems older than Fancy, but Fancy is in fact his father; he was dressed fantastically (“disguiséd very vaine”). 2. Hanging

down

in Albanian

(i.e.,

Scottish:

Albany is a dukedom in Scotland) fashion—as in academic gowns. His hood (“Capuccio”) resembles that of a Capuchin monk. 3. Le., he trod with great precision and care (“nicely”) as if thorns lay in his path or as if he perceived (“did avyse”) the floor to give way

(“shrinke”), His cane was a broken reed, which

collapsed (“shrunke”) when he leaned on it. 4. Danger’s face was terrifying, needing nothing external (“straunge”) to further deform his horrid (“griesly”) appearance. His net and bloodstained (“rustie”) knife indicate the kinds of perils he signifies. 5. l.e., he was pale as ashes and fled as if his heels

had wings.

DWE

PAERVER

OWE ENE,

BOOK

a 1 eCAN TOs

In silken samite® she was light arayd, And her faire lockes were woven up in gold; She alway smyld, and in her hand did hold An holy water Sprinckle,° dipt in deowe,° With which she sprinckled favours manifold, On whom she list,° and did great liking sheowe,

Great liking unto many, but true love to feowe.°

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449

a rich silk

water (dew)

pleased few

14 And after them Dissemblance, and Suspect’ Marcht in one rancke, yet an unequall paire: For she was gentle, and of milde aspect, Courteous to all, and seeming debonaire,° Goodly adornéd, and exceeding faire: Yet was that all but painted, and purloynd,° And her bright° browes were deckt with borrowed haire: Her deedes were forgéd, and her words false coynd, And alwaies in her hand two clewes? of silke she twynd.

gracious stolen lovely

balls

i)

But he was foule, ill favoured, and grim, sideways Under his eyebrowes looking still askaunce;° And ever as Dissemblance laught on him, He lowrd? on her with daungerous?® eyeglaunce; —_scowled / threatening Shewing his nature in his countenance; His rolling eyes did never rest in place, But walkt® each where, for feare of hid mischaunce,

Holding a lattice® still before his face, Through which he still did peepe, as forward he did pace.

moved screen

16

Next him went Griefe, and Fury matcht yfere;° Griefe all in sable sorrowfully clad,

Downe hanging his dull head, with heavy chere,° Yet inly being more, then° seeming sad:

A paire of Pincers in his hand he had, With which he pinchéd people to the hart, That from thenceforth a wretched life they lad,° In wilfull languor® and consuming smart,” Dying each day with inward wounds of dolours dart.°

together countenance

than

led pining / pain

grief's arrow

Ly,

But Fury was full ill appareiled In rags, that naked nigh® she did appeare, With ghastly lookes and dreadfull drerihed;° For from her backe her garments she did teare, And from her head oft rent her snarled heare: In her right hand a firebrand she did tosse® 6. Aspergillum, a brush to sprinkle holy water.

7. Dissimulation and Suspicion.

nearly

wretchedness

brandish

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EDMUND

SPENSER

About her head, still roming here and there; As a dismayed? Deare in chace embost,? _panic-stricken / hard-pressed Forgetfull of his safety, hath his right way lost. 18

After them went Displeasure and Pleasance, He looking lompish® and full sullein sad,° And hanging downe his heavy countenance; She chearefull fresh and full of joyance glad,

dejected / morose

As if no sorrow she ne felt ne drad;

That evill matchéd paire they seemd to bee: An angry Waspe th’one in a viall had, Th’other in hers an hony-lady Bee;® Thus marched these sixe couples forth in faire degree.°

order

19 After all these there marcht a most faire Dame,

Led of two grysie® villeins, th’one Despight, The other clepéd? Cruelty by name:? She dolefull Lady, like a dreary Spright,° Cald by strong charmes out of eternall night, Had deathes owne image figurd in her face, Full of sad signes, fearefull to living sight; Yet in that horror shewd a seemely grace, And with her feeble feet did move a comely pace.

grim called spirit

20 Her brest all naked, as net°® ivory,

Without adorne?® of gold or silver bright, Wherewith the Craftesman wonts it beautify,! Of her dew honour was despoyléd quight,

pure

adornment

And a wide wound therein (O ruefull sight)

Entrenchéd deepe with knife accurséd keene, Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting spright, (The worke of cruell hand) was to be seene,

That dyde in sanguine® red her skin all snowy cleene.

bloody

21

At that wide orifice her trembling hart Was drawne forth, and in silver basin layd,

Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart, And in her bloud yet steeming fresh embayd:° And those two villeins, which her steps upstayd, When her weake feete could scarcely her sustaine, And fading vitall powers gan to fade,

8. Honeybee or honey-laden bee. 9. Typical attributes of the lady in the world of courtly love and love sonnets: her “cruelty” causes

pierced steeped

her to reject her lover with scorn (“despight”). 1. Le., without the jewels that usually beautify her breast. j

UHESENE

RIE

TOUBENE,

(BOIS

3),

e.GANTO

m2

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451

Her forward still with torture did constraine,

And evermore encreaséd her consuming paine.

57) Next after her the wingéd God himselfe® Came riding on a Lion ravenous, Taught to obay the menage® of that Elfe, That man and beast with powre imperious Subdeweth to his kingdome tyrannous: His blindfold eyes he bad® a while unbind, That his proud spoyle of that same dolorous Faire Dame he might behold in perfect kind;° Which seene, he much rejoycéd in his cruell mind.

Cupid horsemanship bade

clearly

23 Of which full proud, himselfe up rearing hye, He lookéd round about with sterne disdaine;

And did survay his goodly company: And marshalling the evill ordered traine,° retinue With that the darts which his right hand did straine,° clasp Full dreadfully he shooke that all did quake, And clapt on hie his coulourd wingés twaine, That all his many?® it affraide did make: company Tho blinding® him againe, his way he forth did take. _ then blindfolding

24 Behinde him was Reproch, Repentance, Shame;

Reproch the first, Shame next, Repent behind: Repentance feeble, sorrowfull, and lame:

Reproch despightfull, carelesse,? and unkind; Shame most ill favourd, bestiall, and blind:

Shame lowrd,° Repentance sigh’d, Reproch did scould; scowled Reproch sharpe stings, Repentance whips entwind, Shame burning brond-yrons°® in her hand did hold: —_ branding irons All three to each unlike, yet all made in one mould. 25

And after them a rude confused rout® Of persons flockt, whose names is hard to read:° Emongst them was sterne Strife, and Anger stout,° Unquiet Care, and fond® Unthriftihead, Lewd? Losse of Time, and Sorrow seeming dead, Inconstant Chaunge, and false Disloyaltie, Consuming Riotise,° and guilty Dread Of heavenly vengeance, faint Infirmitie, Vile Povertie, and lastly Death with infamie.

2. Le., full of scorn, careless of where his attacks fall.

crowd distinguish fierce foolish base debauchery

452

EDMUND

SPENSER

26

There were full many moe?® like maladies, Whose names and natures I note readen well;° So many moe, as there be phantasies

more

I cannot well interpret

In wavering wemens wit, that none can tell,°

count

Or paines in love, or punishments in hell; All which disguizéd marcht in masking wise, About the chamber with that Damozell, And then returnéd, having marchéd thrise,

Into the inner roome, from whence they first did rise. a7

So soone as they were in, the dore streight way Fast lockéd, driven with that stormy blast, Which first it opened; and bore all away. Then the brave Maid, which all this while was plast° In secret shade, and saw both first and last, Issewed® forth, and went unto the dore, To enter in, but found it lockéd fast:

placed

came

It vaine she thought with rigorous uprore®

violent force

For to efforce, when charmes had closéd it afore. 28

Where force might not availe, there sleights and art She cast® to use, both fit for hard emprize;°

resolved / enterprise

For thy°® from that same roome not to depart Till morrow next, she did her selfe avize,°

therefore counsel

When that same Maske againe should forth arize. The morrow next appeard with joyous cheare, Calling men to their daily exercize, Then she, as morrow fresh, her selfe did reare

Out of her secret stand,° that day for to out weare.

standing place

79 All that day she outwore in wandering, And gazing on that Chambers ornament, Till that againe the second evening Her covered with her sable vestiment,

Wherewith the worlds faire beautie she hath blent:° Then when the second watch? was almost past, That brasen dore flew open, and in went Bold Britomart, as she had late forecast,°

Neither of idle shewes, nor of false charmes aghast. 30

So soone as she was entred, round about She cast her eies, to see what was become 3. From 9 p.m. to midnight.

obscured

planned terrified

WE

ENERNE

OUEENE.

BOOK

3,

eeANTOMI2

|

453

Of all those persons, which she saw without: But lo, they streight® were vanisht all and some,

immediately

Ne living wight she saw in all that roome, Save that same woefull Ladie, both whose hands Were bounden fast, that did her ill become,

And her small wast girt round with yron bands, Unto a brasen pillour, by the which she stands.

31 And her before the vile Enchaunter sate,

Figuring straunge characters of his art, With living bloud he those characters wrate,° Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart,

wrote

Seeming transfixéd with a cruell dart,

And all perforce® to make her him to love. Ah who can love the worker of her smart? A thousand charmes he formerly did prove;°

byforce try

Yet thousand charmes could not her stedfast heart remove.

22 Soone as that virgin knight he saw in place, His wicked bookes in hast he overthrew,

Not caring his long labours to deface,* And fiercely ronning to that Lady trew, A murdrous knife out of his pocket drew, The which he thought, for villeinous despight,° In her tormented bodie to embrew:° But the stout® Damzell to him leaping light, His curséd hand withheld, and maisteréd his might.

cruelty plunge frerce

33

From her, to whom his fury first he ment,° The wicked weapon rashly° he did wrest,° And turning to her selfe his fell intent,

suddenly / turned

Unwares? it strooke into her snowie chest,

without warning

directed

That little drops empurpled her faire brest. Exceeding wroth therewith the virgin grew, Albe® the wound were nothing deepe imprest, And fiercely forth her mortall blade she drew, To give him the reward for such vile outrage dew.

although

34 So mightily she smote him, that to ground He fell halfe dead; next stroke him should have slaine,

Had not the Lady, which by him stood bound, Dernely® unto her calléd to abstaine, From doing him to dy. For else her paine Should be remedilesse, sith? none but hee, 4. Le., he did not care if he ruined the spells he had labored over.

dismally since

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EDMUND

SPENSER

Which wrought it, could the same recure® againe. Therewith she stayd her hand, loth stayd to bee; For life she him envyde,° and long’d revenge to see.

heal

begrudged

35 And to him said, “Thou wicked man, whose meed®

For so huge mischiefe, and vile villany Is death, or if that ought° do death exceed, Be sure, that nought may save thee from to dy, But if that thou this Dame doe presently

reward

aught, anything

Restore unto her health, and former state;?

This doe and live, else die undoubtedly.” He glad of life, that lookt for death but late,° Did yield himselfe right willing to prolong his date.°

just recently term oflife

36

And rising up, gan streight to overlooke®

look over

Those curséd leaves, his charmes backe to reverse;

Full dreadfull things out of that balefull booke He red, and measured many a sad verse,°

That horror gan the virgins hart to perse,° And her faire locks up staréd?® stiffe on end, Hearing him those same bloudy lines reherse;° And all the while he red, she did extend Her sword high over him if ought he did offend.

pierce stood say over again

57 Anon she gan perceive the house to quake, And all the dores to rattel round about;

Yet all that did not her dismaiéd make, Nor slacke her threatfull hand for daungers dout,’ But still with stedfast eye and courage stout Abode,° to weet? what end would come of all. At last that mightie chaine, which round about Her tender waste was wound, adowne gan fall,

waited / learn

And that great brasen pillour broke in peeces small. 38

The cruell steele, which thrild°® her dying hart,

pierced

Fell softly forth, as of his owne accord,

And the wyde wound, which lately did dispart® Her bleeding brest, and riven bowels gor’d,

divide

Was closed up, as it had not bene bor’d,

And every part to safety full sound, As she were never hurt, was soone?® restor’d:

5. I.e., you deserve death or, if possible, something worse than death, and nothing will save you from death (“to dy”) unless (“But if”) you immediately (“presently”) restore this lady.

immediately

6. L.e., he pronounced in proper meter many distressing verses (incantations). 7. L.e., nor relax her threatening hand for fear of danger.

THE

FAERTEVQUEENE,

BOOK

35 -GAN TO

Tho® when she felt her selfe to be unbound,

And perfect hole, prostrate she fell unto the ground. 39 Before Faire Britomart, she fell prostrate, Saying, “Ah noble knight what worthy meed°® Can wretched Lady, quit® from wofull state, Yield you in liew of° this your gratious deed? Your vertue selfe her owne reward shall breed, Even immortall praise, and glory wyde, Which I your vassall, by your prowesse freed, Shall through the world make to be notifyde, And goodly well advaunce, that goodly well was tryde.”®

reward released

in return for

40

But Britomart uprearing her from ground, Said, “Gentle Dame, reward enough I weene® For many labours more, then® [ have found,

This, that in safety now I have you seene, And meane?® of your deliverance have beene: Henceforth faire Lady comfort to you take, And put away remembrance of late teene;° In stead thereof know, that your loving Make,°

think

than means

pain mate

Hath no lesse griefe enduréd for your gentle sake.”

41 She much was cheard to heare him menti6énd,

Whom of all living wights she loved best. Then laid the noble Championesse strong hond Upon th’enchaunter, which had her distrest So sore, and with foule outrages opprest: With that great chaine, wherewith not long ygo He bound that pitteous Lady prisoner, now relest,°

released

Himselfe she bound, more worthy to be so,

And captive with her led to wretchednesse and wo. 42

Returning backe, those goodly roomes, which erst°® She saw so rich and royally arayd, Now vanisht utterly, and cleane subverst®

She found, and all their glory quite decayd,° That sight of such a chaunge her much dismayd. Thence forth descending to that perlous® Porch, Those dreadfull flames she also found delayd,’ And quenchéd quite, like a consuméd torch, That erst° all entrers wont so cruelly to scorch.

before overturned

destroyed perilous allayed previously

8. I.e., as your vassal I will make known (“notifyde“) throughout the world and extol (“advaunce”) your virtue, which was so fully tested (“tryde’”).

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43 More easie issew now, then entrance late

She found: for now that fainéd® dreadfull flame,

feigned

Which chokt the porch of that enchaunted gate, And passage bard to all, that thither came, Was vanisht quite, as it were not the same,

And gave her leave at pleasure forth to passe. Th’Enchaunter selfe, which all that fraud did frame, To have efforst® the love of that faire lasse, Seeing his worke now wasted deepe engrievéd was.

enforced

44 But when the victoresse arrived there, Where late she left the pensife® Scudamore,

sad; anxious

With her owne trusty Squire,’ both full of feare, Neither of them she found where she them lore:°

left

Thereat her noble hart was stonisht sore;

But most faire Amoret, whose gentle spright Now gan to feede on hope, which she before Conceived had, to see her owne deare knight, Being thereof beguyld was fild with new affright. 1)

But he sad man, when he had long in drede Awayted there for Britomarts returne, Yet saw her not nor signe of her good speed,° His expectation to despaire did turne, Misdeeming' sure that her those flames did burne; And therefore gan advize® with her old Squire, Who her deare nourslings losse no lesse did mourne, Thence to depart for further aide t’enquire: Where let them wend at will, whilest here I doe respire.?

success

consult

1590, 1596

9. Her nurse, Glauce, is her squire.

But she faire Lady overcommen quight

1. Mistakenly thinking. 2. Take a breath, rest from my labors. In the 1590 edition, Book 3, and the poem, ended with the

happy reunion of Scudamour and Amoret passionate embrace:

in a

Lightly he clipt her twixt his armés twaine, And streightly did embrace her body bright, Her body, late the prison of sad paine, Now the sweet lodge of love and deare delight:

Of huge affection, did in pleasure melt, And in sweete ravishment pourd out her spright: ae word they spake, nor earthly thing they elt, But like two senceles stocks in long embracement dwelt.

But in the 1596 edition Spenser made a bridge to his three added books by replacing the earlier ending with stanzas 43—45, as given here.

THE

FAERIE

QUEENE,

MUTABILITIE

CANTOS

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457

Mutabilitie Cantos In 1609, in an edition of The Faerie Queene published ten years after Spenser's death, two cantos and a two-stanza fragment of a third one appeared for the first time. If they actually are, as their editor's note suggests, part of an uncompleted book of the poem, centered on the virtue of constancy, they constitute a longer digression from the main story than any in the other books. The cantos give Spenser's reflections on change and permanence in the world—a subject that fascinated and disturbed him and his contemporaries. How is it possible to secure any stable meaning in a world that is forever in flux? Where can beauty and truth be found in the midst of relentless strife? In a great trial scene,

the Goddess

of Nature

rules

against Mutabilitie in favor of Jove’s principle of underlying order. But in the moving two-stanza fragment, the poet discloses his longing for eternal rest in the changeless realm of heaven.

Two Cantos of Mutabilitie:

Which, both for Forme and Matter, appeare to be parcell of some following Booke of the Faerie Queene

(~) Under the Legend

of Constancie. Canto 6

Proud Change (not pleasd, in mortall things, beneath the Moone, to raigne)' Pretends,° as well of Gods, as Men to be the Soveraine.

claims

I

What man that sees the ever-whirling wheele Of Change, the which all mortall things doth sway,’ But that therby doth find, and plainly feele, How Mutability in them doth play Her cruell sports, to many mens decay?° Which that to all may better yet appeare, I will rehearse® that whylome? I heard say,

rule destruction relate /formerly

How she at first her selfe began to reare, Gainst all the Gods, and th’empire sought from them to beare. 2

But first, here falleth fittest to unfold

Her antique race and linage ancient, As I have found it registred of old,

In Faery Land mongst records permanent: 1. The old cosmology held that change occurred only in the sublunary realm.

458

EDMUND

SPENSER

She was, to weet,° a daughter by descent Of those old Titans,” that did whylome strive

to wit, in fact

With Saturnes sonne for heavens regiment.°

rule

Whom, though high Jove of kingdome did deprive, Yet many of their stemme?® long after did survive.

race

3 And many of them, afterwards obtained Great power ofJove, and high authority; As Hecate,* in whose almighty hand, He plac’t all rule and principality, To be by her disposéd diversly, To Gods, and men, as she them list® divide: And drad° Bellona,* that doth sound on hie Warres and allarums unto Nations wide,

chose to

dreaded

That makes both heaven and earth to tremble at her pride. 4 So likewise did this Titanesse aspire,

Rule and dominion to her selfe to gaine; That as a Goddesse, men might her admire,° And heavenly honours yield, as to them twaine.* And first, on earth she sought it to obtaine; Where she such proofe and sad° examples shewed

wonder at

grievous

Of her great power, to many ones great paine,

That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed) But eke® all other creatures, her bad dooings rewed.°

also / rued

5

For, she the face of earthly things so changed, That all which Nature had establisht first In good estate,° and in meet® order ranged, condition /fitting She did pervert,° and all their statutes burst: overturn And all the worlds faire frame (which none yet durst Of Gods or men to alter or misguide) She altered quite, and made them all accurst

That God had blest; and did at first provide In that still? happy state for ever to abide.

continually

6

Ne® shee the lawes of Nature onely brake, But eke of Justice, and of Policie;°

nor

government

And wrong of right, and bad of good did make, And death for life exchangéd foolishlie: 2. The Titans were the sons and daughters of sky and earth; their king was Cronus (Time). Jove, Cronus’s son, dethroned him and established the rule of the gods. But some descendants of the original Titans, such as Prometheus and Hecate, survived. Spenser invents another, a Titaness called Mutabilitie.

3. A goddess of Hades but also often associated with the powerful and generally benevolent goddess Artemis (in Rome, Diana). Her name is pronounced HEK-a-tee. 4. Roman goddess of war. 5. Those two; i.e., Hecate and Bellona.

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Since which, all living wights° have learned to die, creatures And all this world is woxen® daily worse. grown O pittious worke of Mutabilitie! By which, we all are subject to that curse, And death in stead of life have suckéd from our Nurse.2—_ie., Nature 7

And now, when all the earth she thus had brought To her behest,° and thralléd to her might, She gan to cast° in her ambitious thought,

bidding resolve

T’attempt® the empire of the heavens hight, And Jove himselfe to shoulder from his right. And first, she past the region of the ayre,

attack

And of the fire,° whose substance thin and slight, Made no resistance, ne could her contraire,°

withstand

But ready passage to her pleasure did prepaire. 8 Thence, to the Circle of the Moone’ she clambe,

Where Cynthia® raignes in everlasting glory, To whose bright shining palace straight she came, All fairely deckt with heavens goodly story;? Whose silver gates (by which there sate an hory Old aged Sire, with hower-glasse in hand, Hight° Tyme) she entred, were he liefe or sory:' Ne staide till she the highest stage° had scand,° Where Cynthia did sit, that never still did stand.°

called level / mounted to remain

9 Her sitting on an Ivory throne shee found, Drawne of two steeds, th’one black, the other white, Environd with tenne thousand starres around,

That duly her attended day and night; And by her side, there ran her Page, that hight Vesper, whom we the Evening-starre intend:° That with his Torche, still twinkling like twylight, Her lightened all the way where she should wend,° And joy to weary wandring travailers did lend:

call journey

10

That when the hardy Titanesse beheld The goodly building of her Palace bright, Made of the heavens substance, and up-held With thousand Crystall pillors of huge hight, Shee gan to burne in her ambitious spright,° And t’evnie her that in such glorie raigned.

spirit

6. The highest sublunary region. 7. The transparent sphere that, in the Ptolemaic cosmology, revolved around the earth, carrying

8. Cynthia, Diana, or Phoebe, the moon goddess, often associated with Queen Elizabeth. 9. I.e., the constellations.

ets, and, collectively, the fixed stars were similarly carried by their spheres.)

2. Soon, she resolved.

the moon along. (The sun, the other known plan-

1. I.e., whether he liked it or not.

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wrongful

Eftsoones she cast? by force and tortious’ might, Her to displace; and to her selfe to have gained The kingdome of the Night, and waters by her wained.°

drawn

I Boldly And For, And

she bid the Goddesse downe descend, let her selfe into that Ivory throne; shee her selfe more worthy thereof wend,° better able it to guide alone:

weened, thought

Whether to men, whose fall she did bemone,

Or unto Gods, whose state she did maligne,°

envy

Or to th’infernall Powers, her need give lone

Of her faire light, and bounty most benigne, Her selfe of all that rule shee deeméd most condigne.®

worthy

12

But shee that had to her that soveraigne seat By highest Jove assigned, therein to beare Nights burning lamp, regarded not her threat, Ne yielded ought for favour or for feare; But with sterne countenaunce and disdainfull cheare,°

Bending her hornéd browes,? did put her back: And boldly blaming her for comming there, Bade her attonce from heavens coast to pack,° Or at her perill bide the wrathfull Thunders wrack.°

13 Yet nathemore® the Giantesse forbare: But boldly preacing-on,°? raught forth her hand To pluck her downe perforce® from off her chaire; And there-with lifting up her golden wand, Threatned to strike her if she did with-stand. Where-at the starres, which round about her blazed, And eke the Moones bright wagon,’ still did stand,

aspect

depart destruction

not at all advancing byforce

chariot

All beeing with so bold attempt amazed, And on her uncouth habit* and sterne looke still gazed.

14 Meane-while, the lower World, which nothing knew

Of all that chauncéd here, was darkned quite; And eke the heavens, and all the heavenly crew Of happy wights, now unpurvaide® of light, Were much afraid, and wondred at that sight; Fearing least® Chaos broken had his chaine, And brought againe on them eternall night:

3. Cynthia’s bent brows are the horns of the

deprived lest

Mercury was the messenger of the gods. In stanza

crescent moon.

19, his Greek name, Hermes, is used. “Chaos”: in

4. Strange behavior. 5. In the Ptolemaic system the sphere of Mercury was next beyond that of the moon. In mythology

Greek mythology, the first created being—the scarcely personified, profoundly unordered. primordial soup.

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But chiefely Mercury, that next doth raigne,’ Ran forth in haste, unto the king of Gods to plaine.°

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complain

5

All ran together with a great out-cry, To Joves faire Palace, fixt in heavens hight; And beating at his gates full earnestly, Gan call to him aloud with all their might, To know what meant that suddaine lack of light. The father of the Gods when this he heard, Was troubled much at their so strange affright, Doubting least° Typhon® were againe upreared,

fearing that

Or other his old foes, that once him sorely feared.°

frightened

16

Eftsoones the sonne of Maia® forth he sent Downe to the Circle of the Moone, to knowe

i.e., Mercury

The cause of this so strange astonishment, And why shee did her wonted® course forslowe;° —_accustomed /delay And if that any were on earth belowe That did with charmes or Magick her molest, Him to attache,° and downe to hell to throwe: But, if from heaven it were, then to arrest

The Author, and him bring before his presence prest.°

seize

immediately

17

The wingd-foot God, so fast his plumes did beat, That soone he came where-as the Titanesse Was striving with faire Cynthia for her seat: At whose strange sight, and haughty hardinesse,°

boldness

He wondred much, and fearéd her no lesse.

Yet laying feare aside to doe his charge,°

assigned task

At last, he bade her (with bold stedfastnesse)

Ceasse to molest the Moone to walke at large,’ Or come before high Jove, her dooings to discharge.°

account for

18

And there-with-all, he on her shoulder laid

His snaky-wreathéd Mace,* whose awfull power Doth make both Gods and hellish fiends affraid: Where-at the Titanesse did sternely lower,° And stoutly answered, that in evill hower He from his Jove such message to her brought,

scowl

To bid her leave faire Cynthias silver bower; Sith® shee his Jove and him esteeméd nought,

since

No more then? Cynthia’s selfe; but all their kingdoms sought.

6. A giant who had rebelled against Jove. 7. Le., stop interfering with the moon's movement.

free

than

8. I.e., the caduceus, Mercury’s rod, which could bring spirits from the underworld.

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10.

The Heavens Herald staid not to reply, But past away, his doings to relate Unto his Lord; who now in th’highest sky, Was placed in his principall Estate,° position of state With all the Gods about him congregate: To whom when Hermes had his message told, It did them all exceedingly amate,° dismay Save Jove; who, changing nought his count’nance bold, Did unto them at length these speeches wise unfold; 20

“Harken to mee awhile yee heavenly Powers; Ye may remember since th’Earths curséd seed Sought to assaile the heavens eternall towers, And to us all exceeding feare did breed: But how we then defeated all their deed, Yee all doe knowe, and them destroied quite; Yet not so quite, but that there did succeed An off-spring of their bloud, which did alite Upon the fruitfull earth, which doth us yet despite.°

disdain

21

“Of that bad seed is this bold woman bred, That now with bold presumption doth aspire To thrust faire Phoebe? from her silver bed,

And eke our selves from heavens high Empire, If that her might were match to her desire: Wherefore, it now behoves us to advise°

consider

What way is best to drive her to retire; Whether by open force, or counsell wise,

Areed?® ye sonnes of God, as best ye can devise.”

advise

22

So having said, he ceast; and with his brow

(His black eye-brow, whose doomefull dreaded beck! Is wont to wield® the world unto his vow,° sway / will And even the highest Powers of heaven to check) Made signe to them in their degrees to speake: Who straight gan cast? their counsell grave and wise. Mean-while, th’Earths daughter, thogh she nought did reck? Of Hermes message; yet gan now advise,

What course were best to take in this hot bold emprize.°

9. The moon as the twin sister of Phoebus Apollo, the sun god. 1. L.e., his awesome nod ofjudgment.

enterprise

2. Deliver. “Straight”: straightaway. 3. Care. “Earths daughter”: i.e., Mutabilitie,

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23 Eftsoones she thus resolved; that whil’st the Gods (After returne of Hermes Embassie)

Were troubled, and amongst themselves at ods, Before they could new counsels re-allie,° To set upon them in that extasie;° And take what fortune time and place would lend: So, forth she rose, and through the purest sky To Joves high Palace straight cast° to ascend, To prosecute her plot: Good on-set boads good end.

form again

astonishment resolved

24 Shee there arriving, boldly in did pass; Where all the Gods she found in counsell close,°

secret

All quite unarmed, as then their manner was. At sight of her they suddaine all arose, In great amaze,° ne wist° what way to chose. bewilderment / knew But Jove, all fearelesse, forc’t them to aby;° remain And in his soveraine throne, gan straight dispose® arrange Himselfe more full of grace and Majestie, That mote encheare® his friends, and foes mote terrifie. cheer 25 That, when the haughty Titanesse beheld,

All° were she fraught with pride and impudence, Yet with the sight thereof was almost queld; And inly quaking, seemed as? reft of sense, And voyd of speech in that drad° audience; Until that Jove himself, her selfe bespake: “Speake thou fraile woman, speake with confidence, Whence art thou, and what doost thou here now make?° What idle errand hast thou, earths mansion to forsake?”

although as if dread intend

26

Shee, halfe confuséd with his great commaund, Yet gathering spirit of her natures pride, Him boldly answered thus to his demaund: “I am a daughter, by the mothers side, Of her that is Grand-mother magnifide®

Of all the Gods, great Earth, great Chaos child:* But by the fathers (be it not envide®) I greater am in bloud (whereon I build?)

Then all the Gods, though wrongfully from heaven exiled. 27 “For, Titan (as ye all acknowledge must)

Was Saturnes elder brother by birth-right; 4. Earth is the offspring of Chaos, in Hesiod and later mythologies.

glorified hegrudged base my claim

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Both, sonnes of Uranus: but by unjust And guilefull meanes, through Corybantes slight, ° The younger thrust the elder from his right:? Since which, thou Jove, injuriously° hast held The Heavens rule from Titans sonnes by might; And them to hellish dungeons downe hast feld: Witnesse ye Heavens the truth of all that I have teld.”

trickery

wrongfully

Whil’st she thus spake, the Gods that gave good eare To her bold words, and markéd well her grace, Beeing of stature tall as any there Of all the Gods, and beautifull of face, As any of the Goddesses in place,°

Stood all astonied, like a sort® of Steeres;

present

herd

Mongst whom, some beast of strange and forraine race, Unwares? is chaunc’t, far straying from his peeres: unexpectedly So did their ghastly gaze bewray° their hidden feares. reveal

Till having pauzed awhile, Jove thus bespake; “Will never mortal] thoughts ceasse to aspire, In this bold sort, to Heaven claime to make,

And touch celestiall seates with earthly mire? I would have thought, that bold Procrustes® hire,°

reward

Or Typhons fall, or proud Ixions paine, Or great Prometheus, tasting of our ire,

Would have suffized, the rest for to restraine;

And warned all men by their example to refraine:

“But now, this off-scum of that curséd fry,° Dare to renew the like bold enterprize, And chalenge?® th’heritage of this our skie;

brood

lay claim to

Whom what should hinder, but that we likewise Should handle as the rest of her allies, And thunder-drive to hell?” With that, he shooke

His Nectar-deaweéd locks,’ with which the skyes And all the world beneath for terror quooke,’ And eft°® his burning levin-brond® in hand he tooke. 5. In this variant myth, Titan, eldest son of Ura-

nus, abdicated in favor of his younger brother Saturn on condition that Saturn would eat all his own male children, thus assuring the succession would eventually revert to Titan’s line. When Jove was born to Rhea, Saturn’s wife, she gave Saturn a stone to swallow instead ofthe baby, and her attendants, the Corybantes, beat on their shields to drown out the baby’s cries. Eventually Jove deposed his father. 6. Procrustes was a robber who waylaid strangers and made them fit his bed by cutting or stretching them. (Spenser includes him among those pun-

quaked

then

ished by Jove, though the standard version of the myth has Theseus in that role.) Typhon was a hundred-headed monster overthrown by Jove. Ixion tried to seduce Jove’s wife and was punished by being bound to a wheel of fire in hell. Prometheus stole fire from heaven and gave it to humankind, for which Jove punished him by chaining him to a cliff where an eagle fed on his liver, which grew back every night. 7. l.e., his locks were sprinkled with a fragrant

balm. “Nectar” more often referred to the drink of the gods. 8. Lightning bolt.

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31 But, when he lookéd on her lovely face,

In which, faire beames of beauty did appeare, That could the greatest wrath soone turne to grace (Such sway® doth beauty even in Heaven beare) He staide his hand: and having changed his cheare,° He thus againe in milder wise began; “But ah! if Gods should strive with flesh yfere,° Then shortly should the progeny of Man Be rooted out, if Jove should doe still® what he can:

power mood together always

2p) “But thee faire Titans child, I rather weene,° suppose Through some vaine errour or inducement light,’ slight To see that° mortall eyes have never seene; that which Or through ensample?® of thy sisters might, example Bellona; whose great glory thou doost spight,° envy Since thou hast seene her dreadfull power belowe, Mongst wretched men (dismaide with her affright)’ To bandie Crownes, and Kingdomes to bestowe: And sure thy worth, no lesse then hers doth seem to showe. 33 “But wote® thou this, thou hardy Titanesse,

know

That not the worth of any living wight May challenge ought in Heavens interesse, 1 Much lesse the Title of old Titans Right: For, we by Conquest of our soveraine might, And by eternall doome of Fates decree, Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens bright; Which to our selves we hold, and to whom wee

Shall worthy deeme partakers of our blisse to bee. 34

“Then ceasse thy idle claime thou foolish gerle, And seeke by grace and goodnesse to obtaine That place from which by folly Titan fell; There-to thou maist perhaps, if so thou faine® Have Jove thy gratious Lord and Soveraigne.” So, having said, she thus to him replide; “Ceasse Saturnes sonne, to seeke by proffers vaine

Of idle hopes t’allure mee to thy side, For to betray my Right, before I have it tride.

9. Through fear of her. heaven. 1. Le., no living person, however worthy, can claim any title to power or authority in

desire

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35 impartial “But thee, O Jove, no equall° Judge I deeme due Of my desert, or of my dewfull® Right; That in thine owne behalfe maist partiall seeme: called But to the highest him, that is behight® Father of Gods and men by equall might;? To weet, the God of Nature, I appeale.” waxed, grew / spirit There-at Jove wexéd® wroth, and in his spright° Did inly grudge, yet did it well conceale; appeal And bade Dan Phoebus Scribe? her Appellation® seale.

36

Eftsoones the time and place appointed were, Where all, both heavenly Powers, and earthly wights, Before great Natures presence should appeare, For triall of their Titles and best Rights: That was, to weet, upon the highest hights Of Arlo-hill* (Who knowes not Arlo-hill?)

That is the highest head (in all mens sights) Of my old father Mole, whom Shepheards quill Renowméd hath with hymnes fit for a rurall skill. 37

And, were it not ill fitting for this file,’ To sing of hilles and woods, mongst warres and Knights, I would abate the sternenesse of my stile, Mongst these sterne stounds® to mingle soft delights; And tell how Arlo through Dianaes spights (Beeing of old the best and fairest Hill That was in all this holy-Islands® hights) Was made the most unpleasant, and most ill.° Meane while, O Clio, lend Calliope’ thy quill.

clashes

evil

38

Whylome,’ when Ireland florishéd in fame Of wealths and goodnesse, far above the rest Of all that beare the British Islands name,

formerly

The Gods then used? (for pleasure and for rest)

Oft to resort there-to, when seemed them best: But none of all there-in more pleasure found, Then Cynthia;? that is soveraine Queene profest° 2. Le., who is called father of gods and humans, with equal authority over both. Androgynous Nature is here male, but in the following canto female. 3. Evidently Spenser makes Phoebus Apollo the secretary (“Scribe”) of the gods because he is the god of poetry. 4. L.e., Galtymore, a peak of the mountain range Spenser calls “my old father Mole,” near Kilcolman Castle, where he lived in Ireland. The last two lines of the stanza refer to Spenser's praise of

acknowledged

Mole in his pastoral eclogue Colin Clouts Come Home Againe. 5. Thread (of the story).

6. Ireland is called the “holy-Island” because, according to legend, Christianity first found a

foothold there and thence spread to the rest of the British Isles, 7. Calliope is the muse of epic poetry. Clio is the muse of history. 8. Were accustomed to. 9. l.e., as Diana, goddess of forests, fond of hunting.

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Of woods and forrests, which therein abound, Sprinkled with wholsom waters, more then most on ground.

39

But mongst them all, as fittest for her game,°

recreation

Either for chace of beasts with hound or boawe, Or for to shroude in shade from Phoebus flame, Or bathe in fountaines that doe freshly flowe, Or° from high hilles, or from the dales belowe, She chose this Arlo; where shee did resort

either

With all her Nymphes enrangéd on° a rowe, arranged in With whom the woody Gods did oft consort:° i.e., sexually For, with the Nymphes, the Satyres love to play and sport.’

40 Amongst the which, there was a Nymph that hight Molanna; daughter of old father Mole, And sister unto Mulla,’ faire and bright:

Unto whose bed false Bregog whylome stole, That Shepheard Colin dearely did condole,° And made her lucklesse loves well knowne to be. But this Molanna, were she not so shole,°

keenly bewailed shallow

Were no lesse faire and beautifull then shee: Yet as she is, a fairer flood may no man see. 41 For, first, she springs out of two marble Rocks,

On which, a grove of Oakes high mounted growes, That as a girlond seemes to deck the locks Of som faire Bride, brought forth with pompous’ showes Out of her bowre,° that many flowers strowes: So, through the flowry Dales she tumbling downe, Through many woods, and shady coverts® flowes

chamber thickets

(That on each side her silver channell crowne)

Till to the Plaine she come, whose Valleyes shee doth drowne. 42 In her sweet streames, Diana uséd oft (After her sweatie chace and toilesome play) To bathe her selfe; and after, on the soft

And downy grasse, her dainty limbes to lay In covert® shade, where none behold her may: For, much she hated sight of living eye.

secret

Foolish God Faunus, though full many a day

1. Nymphs in female deities of parts of nature. the woods, given

The footed

Romans fauns;

Greek mythology were minor streams, springs, trees, and other Satyrs were minor male gods of to drinking and sensual pleasure.

identified hence

them

“Faunus”

with their goat(stanza

42) and

“Faune” (stanza 46). 2. The river Awbeg, whose joining with the river Bregog is told in Colin Clouts Come Home Againe. The Molanna is the shallow, rocky river Behanna.

3. Magnificent.

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He saw her clad, yet longéd foolishly To see her naked mongst her Nymphes in privity.’ 43

No way he found to compasse?® his desire, accomplish But to corrupt Molanna, this her maid, Her to discover® for some secret hire:° reveal / reward So, her with flattering words he first assaid; And after, pleasing gifts for her purvaid,° provided Queene-apples,’ and red Cherries from the tree, With which he her alluréd and betraid, To tell what time he might her Lady see When she her selfe did bathe, that he might secret® bee. hidden

44 There-to hee promist, if she would him pleasure With this small boone, to quit® her with a better; To weet, that where-as she had out of measure

requite

Long loved the Fanchin, who by nought did set her,°

That he would undertake, for this to get her To be his Love, and of him likéd well: Besides all which, he vowed to be her debter

For many moe® good turnes then he would tell; The least of which, this little pleasure should excell.

more

45

The simple maid did yield to him anone;? And eft him placéd where he close’ might view That°® never any saw, save onely one; Who, for his hire to so foole-hardy dew,° Was of his hounds devoured in Hunters hew.® Tho,° as her manner was on sunny day, Diana, with her Nymphes about her, drew

To this sweet spring; where, doffing her array, She bathed her lovely limbes, for Jove a likely pray.°

at once that which due then

proper prey

46

There Faunus saw that pleaséd much his eye, And made his hart to tickle® in his brest, That for great joy of some-what he did spy,

be thrilled

He could him not containe in silent rest;

But breaking forth in laughter, loud profest His foolish thought. A foolish Faune indeed,

That couldst not hold thy selfe so° hidden blest, 4. Privacy. Spenser here adapts the classical story of Actaeon with local Irish geographical references, Actaeon while hunting happened to see Diana bathing; he was turned into a stag and pursued and killed by his own hounds. 5. Noted for their redness and early ripening.

thus

6. l.e., who cared nothing for her. Fanchin is the river Funsheon. 7. Secretly; close up. 8. l.e., as a due reward to one so foolhardy, he was devoured by his hunting dogs in the slaughter (“hew”) that follows a hunt.

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But wouldest needs thine owne conceit’ areed.° Babblers unworthy been of so divine a meed.°

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make known reward

47 The Goddesse, all abashéd with that noise,

In haste forth started from the guilty brooke; And running straight where-as she heard his voice, Enclosed the bush about, and there him tooke, Like darréd' Larke; not daring up to looke On her whose sight before so much he sought. Thence, forth they drew him by the hornes, and shooke Nigh all to peeces, that they left him nought;° good for nothing And then into the open light they forth him brought. 48

Like as an huswife, that with busie care Thinks of her Dairie to make wondrous gaine, Finding where-as some wicked beast unware® That breakes into her Dayr’house, there doth draine Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all her paine;° Hath in some snare or gin® set close behind, Entrappéd him, and caught into her traine,°

unexpected effort trap snare

Then thinkes what punishment were best assigned,

And thousand deathes deviseth in her vengefull mind:

49 So did Diana and her maydens all Use silly Faunus, now within their baile:° They mocke and scorne him, and him foule miscall;°

Some by the nose him pluckt, some by the taile, And by his goatish beard some did him haile:° Yet he (poore soule) with patience all did beare; For, nought against their wils might countervaile:° Ne ought he said what ever he did heare; But hanging downe his head, did like a Mome® appeare.

power, custody revile

pull avail fool

50 At length, when they had flouted him their fill, They gan to cast® what penaunce him to give. Some would have gelt® him, but that same would spill?

consider castrated

The Wood-gods breed, which must for ever live: forced to go Others would through the river him have drive,° light; penaunce seemed that but deepe: ducked And But most agreed and did this sentence give, condition Him in Deares skin to clad; and in that plight,° might. hee how save selfe him hounds, their To hunt him with

9, Thought; vanity or pride. 1. Paralyzed with fear.

2. Destroy.

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51 But Cynthia’s selfe, more angry then the rest, Thought not enough, to punish him in sport, And of her shame to make a gamesome?’ jest;

sportive

But gan examine him in straighter® sort,

Which of her Nymphes, or other close consort,° Him thither brought, and her to him betraid?

stricter

secret confederate

He, much affeard, to her confessed short,° That ’twas Molanna which her so bewraid.° Then all attonce their hands upon Molanna laid.

soon betrayed

52

But him (according as they had decreed) With a Deeres-skin they covered, and then chast

With all their hounds that after him did speed; But he more speedy, from them fled more fast Then any Deere: so sore him dread aghast.° They after followed all with shrill out-cry, Shouting as they the heavens would have brast:°

terrified burst

That all the woods and dales where he did flie,

Did ring againe, and loud reeccho to the skie. Da

So they him followed till they weary were; When, back returning to Molann’ againe,

They, by commaund’ment of Diana, there Her whelmed with stones.* Yet Faunus (for her paine)° Of her belovéd Fanchin did obtaine, That her he would receive unto his bed.

trouble

So now her waves passe through a pleasant Plaine, Till with the Fanchin she her selfe doe wed, And (both combined) themselves in one faire river spred.

54

Nath’lesse,° Diana, full of indignation,

nonetheless

Thence-forth abandond her delicious brooke; In whose sweet streame, before that bad occasién,

So much delight to bathe her limbes she tooke: Ne onely her,° but also quite forsooke

i.e., the brook

All those faire forrests about Arlo hid, And all that Mountaine, which doth over-looke

The richest champian that may else be rid,’ And the faire Shure,’ in which are thousand Salmons bred.

3. This overwhelming with stones accounts for the shallowness of the river, mentioned in stanza 40.

4. The richest plain to be seen anywhere. 5. The river Suir.

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55 Them all, and all that she so deare did way,°

esteem

Thence-forth she left; and parting from the place, There-on an heavy haplesse curse did lay, To weet, that Wolves, where she was wont to space,°

roam

Should harboured be, and all those Woods deface, And Thieves should rob and spoile® that Coast° around. Since which, those Woods, and all that goodly Chase,’

region

Doth to this day with Wolves and Thieves abound: Which too-too true that lands in-dwellers since have found.

Canto 7 Pealing,° from Jove, to Natur’s Bar, bold Alteration® pleades

appealing i.e., Mutabilitie

Large® Evidence: but Nature soone her righteous Doome areads.*

copious

I

Ah! whither doost thou now thou greater? Muse? Me from these woods and pleasing forrests bring? And my fraile spirit (that dooth oft refuse This too high flight, unfit for her weake wing)

very great

Lift up aloft, to tell of heavens King (Thy soveraine Sire)' his fortunate successe,

And victory, in bigger° noates to sing, Which he obtained against that Titanesse, That him of heavens Empire sought to dispossesse.

louder

2 Yet sith® I needs must follow thy behest, Doe thou my weaker® wit with skill inspire, Fit for this turne;° and in my feeble brest

since too weak task

Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall fire,

Which learnéd minds inflameth with desire Of heavenly things: for, who but thou alone, That art yborne of heaven and heavenly Sire, Can tell things doen in heaven so long ygone; So farre past memory of man that may be knowne. 3 agreed, before was that time Now, at the The Gods assembled all on Arlo hill;

As well those that are sprung of heavenly seed,

As those that all the other world® doe fill, . Despoil. . Hunting ground. . Proclaims her righteous judgment. . Calliope, though possibly Clio. See canto 6, Oo OND

i.e., the earth

stanza 37 and n. 7. 1. Jove fathered the Muses on the Titaness Mnemosyne (Memory).

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And rule both sea and land unto their will: Onely th’infernall Powers might not appeare; Aswell for horror of their count’naunce ill, As for th’unruly fiends which they did feare;? Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present there.’

4 And thither also came all other creatures, What-ever life or motion doe retaine, According to their sundry kinds of features; That Arlo scarsly could them all containe; So full they filled every hill and Plaine: And had not Natures Sergeant (that is Order) Them well disposed by his busie paine,° And raungéd? farre abroad in every border, They would have causéd much confusion and disorder.

care

arranged

5

Then forth issewed (great goddesse) great dame Nature, With goodly port® and gracious Majesty; bearing Being far greater and more tall of stature Then any of the gods or Powers on hie: Yet certes°® by her face and physnomy,° certainly / countenance Whether she man or woman inly were, That could not any creature well descry: For, with a veile that wimpled® every where,

covered in folds

Her head and face was hid, that mote to none appeare. 6

That some doe say was so by skill devized, To hide the terror of her uncouth hew,° From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized;°

strange appearance terrified

For that her face did like a Lion shew,

That eye of wight could not indure to view: But others tell that it so beautious was,

And round about such beames of splendor threw, That it the Sunne a thousand times did pass,°

Ne® could be seene, but? like an image in a glass.

SUIpass

nor / except

i

That well may seemen true: for, well I weene That this same day, when she on Arlo sat,°

i.e., in judgment

Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheene,° That my fraile wit cannot devize to what It to compare, nor finde like stuffe° to that,

As those three sacred Saints, though else most wise, Yet on mount Thabor quite their wits forgat, 2. Meaning either that the infernal powers controlled the fiends by fear or that the heavenly and

earthly powers feared them. 3. King and queen of the Underworld.

shining fabric

THE

ENERIE

OQUEENE,

MURABIM Im NE is manifest: so heavenly a title did that excellent people bestow upon this heart-ravishing knowledge. And so far were they carried into the admiration thereof, that they thought in the chanceable hitting upon any such verses great foretokens of their following fortunes were placed. Whereupon grew the word of Sortes Virgilianae,° when by sudden opening Virgil’s book they lighted upon any verse of his making, whereof the histories of the emperors’ lives are full: as of Albinus,’ the governor of our island, who in his childhood met with this verse Arma amens capio nec sat rationis in armis®

and in his age performed it. Which, although it were a very vain and godless superstition, as also it was to think spirits were commanded by such verses— whereupon this word charms, derived of carmina,? cometh—so yet serveth it to show the great reverence those wits! were held in; and altogether not without ground, since both the oracles of Delphos and Sibylla’s prophecies? were wholly delivered in verses. For that same exquisite observing of number and measure in the words, and that high flying liberty of conceit? proper to the poet, did seem to have some divine force in it. 3. In the Ottoman Empire in Sidney’s time, poetry was more highly developed than prose, but it is a great exaggeration to say the Turks had no

writers other than their poets and their “lawgiving divines” (the mufti). 4. Poems (accompanied by music and dancing) of the indigenous Haitians, celebrating ancestral valor. 5. “Prophecy” and “to prophesy.” 6. Virgilian lots; ie., accepting as prophecy a line of Virgil chosen by random (“changeable”) opening of the Aeneid.

7. Roman governor of Britain, declared emperor by his troops in 193 c.£. but defeated and killed four years later. 8. Frantic, I take up arms, yet there is little purpose in arms (Aeneid 2.314). 9. Songs, poems. 1. Talented people (i.e., the poets). 2. The Pythia (priestess) at Delphi in Greece proclaimed Apollo's oracles. Sibylla (Sibyl) was a

general

name

given

to various

in Greek and Roman culture. 3. Imaginative conception.

prophetesses

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And may not I presume a little further, to show the reasonableness of this word vates, and say that the holy David’s* Psalms are a divine poem? If I do, I shall not do it without the testimony of great learned men, both ancient and modern. But even the name of Psalms will speak for me, which being interpreted, is nothing but songs; then that it is fully written in meter, as all learned Hebricians agree, although the rules be not yet fully found;? lastly and principally, his handling his prophecy, which is merely® poetical: for what else is the awaking his musical instruments, the often and free changing of persons, his notable prosopopoeias,’ when he maketh you, as it were, see God coming in His majesty, his telling of the beasts’ joyfulness and hills leaping, but a heavenly poesy, wherein almost® he showeth himself a passionate lover of that unspeakable and everlasting beauty to be seen by the eyes of the mind, only cleared by faith? But truly now having named him, I fear me I seem to profane that holy name, applying it to poetry, which is among us thrown down to so ridiculous an estimation. But they that with quiet judgments will look a little deeper into it, shall find the end and working of it such as, being rightly applied, deserveth not to be scourged out of the Church of God. But now let us see how the Greeks named it, and how they deemed of it. The Greeks called him a “poet,” which name hath, as the most excellent,

gone through other languages. It cometh of this word poiein, which is, to make: wherein, I know not whether by luck or wisdom, we Englishmen have met with the Greeks in calling him a maker:? which name, how high and incomparable a title it is, | had rather were known by marking the scope of other sciences than by any partial! allegation. There is no art delivered to mankind that hath not the works of nature for his principal object, without which they* could not consist, and on which they so depend, as they become actors and players, as it were, of what nature will have set forth. So doth the astronomer look upon the stars, and, by that he seeth, set down what order nature hath taken therein. So doth the geometrician and arithmetician in their diverse sorts of quantities. So doth the musician in times tell you which by nature agree,’ which not. The natural philosopher thereon? hath his name, and the moral philosopher standeth upon the natural virtues, vices, or passions of man; and follow nature (saith

he) therein, and thou shalt not err. The lawyer saith what men have determined; the historian what men have done. The grammarian speaketh only of the rules of speech; and the rhetorician and logician, considering what in nature will soonest prove and persuade, thereon give artificial rules, which still are compassed within the circle of a question according to the proposed matter.° The physician weigheth’ the nature of man’s body, and the nature of 4. The

biblical

King David,

commonly

iden-

tified in the Renaissance as author of the Book of Psalms in its entirety. 5. Many Renaissance scholars who knew some Hebrew (“Hebricians”) thought the Psalms were written in verse forms approximating classical

Greek and Latin meters.

6. Entirely. 7, Personifications. “Changing of persons’: shifts in narrative perspective, between first- and thirdperson expressions.

8. Indeed. “Poesy”: art of making poetry. 9. A common word for poet in 16th-century

England. “Met with”: agreed with. 1. Biased. “Marking”: noting. 2. The several arts. The following argument owes much to the Poetics (1561) of the Renaissance Italian theorist Julius Caesar Scaliger. 3. Which rhythms are naturally consonant. 4. Le., from nature. “Natural philosopher”: scientist.

5. Takes as subject matter. 6. The rules of those arts (“artificial rules”) are

always limited in their application to questions pertaining to the subject at hand. 7. Considers.

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things helpful or hurtful unto it. And the metaphysic, though it be in the second and abstract notions, and therefore be counted supernatural,® yet doth he indeed build upon the depth of nature. Only the poet, disdaining to be tied to any such subjection, lifted up with the vigor of his own invention, doth grow in effect another nature, in making things either better than nature bringeth forth, or, quite anew, forms such as never were in nature, as the Heroes, Demigods, Cyclops, Chimeras, Furies,’ and suchlike: so as he goeth hand in hand with nature, not enclosed within the narrow warrant of her gifts, but freely ranging only within the zodiac of his own wit.’ Nature never set forth the earth in so rich tapestry as divers poets have done; neither with so pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, sweet-smelling flowers, nor whatsoever

else may make the too much loved earth more lovely. Her world is brazen, the poets only deliver a golden.” But let those things alone, and go to man—for whom as the other things are, so it seemeth in him her uttermost cunning is employed—and know whether she have brought forth so true a lover as Theagenes, so constant a friend as Pylades, so valiant a man as Orlando, so right a prince as Xenophon’s Cyrus,’ so excellent a man every way as Virgil’s Aeneas. Neither let this be jestingly conceived, because the works of the one be essential, the other in imitation or fiction;* for any understanding knoweth the skill of each artificer standeth in that idea or fore-conceit’ of the work, and not in

the work itself. And that the poet hath that idea is manifest, by delivering them forth in such excellency as he had imagined them. Which delivering forth also is not wholly imaginative, as we are wont® to say by them that build castles in the air; but so far substantially it worketh, not only to make a Cyrus, which had been but a particular excellency as nature might have done, but to bestow a Cyrus upon the world to make many Cyruses, if they will learn aright why and how that maker made him. Neither let it be deemed too saucy a comparison to balance the highest point of man’s wit with the efficacy of nature; but rather give right honor to the heavenly Maker of that maker, who having made man to His own likeness, set him beyond and over all the works of that second nature:’ which in nothing he showeth so much as in poetry, when with the force of a divine breath he bringeth things forth surpassing her doings—with no small arguments to the incredulous’ of that first accursed fall of Adam, since our erected

wit maketh us know what perfection is, and yet our infected will? keepeth us from reaching unto it. But these arguments will by few be understood, and by fewer granted. This much (I hope) will be given me, that the Greeks with some probability of reason gave him! the name above all names of learning. 8. Outside the physical world—entirely mental. “Metaphysic”: metaphysician. 9. Avenging deities who punish crimes both in this world and after death. “Heroes”: in the Greek sense, part human, part divine. “Cyclops”: one-eyed giants (the correct plural is “Cyclopes”) in Homer's Odyssey. “Chimeras”: fire-breathing monsters

with lion’s head, goat's body, and ser-

pent’s tail. 1. Intellect. 2. A reference to the classical tradition of “The Four Ages of Man,” the idea that the world has declined from the first and perfect Golden Age, through the Silver, Brass (or Bronze), and Iron ages. “Her”: Nature's.

3. Cyrus the Great of Persia, exemplary hero of Xenophon’s prose romance, the Cyropaedia (4th century B.C.E.). Theagenes, hero of Heliodorus’s

Greek romance, Aethiopica (3rd or 4th century c.£.). Pylades, friend of the Greek hero Orestes.

Orlando,

hero especially of Ariosto’s Orlando

furioso (1516).

4. The works of nature are real (“essential”) those of the poet are fiction. Va . Imaginative plan; conception. 6. Accustomed. “Imaginative”: fanciful. 7. Physical nature. 8. Le., skeptics. 9 . Will corrupted in the Fall by original sin. | . Le., poesy.

,

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DIE REINS

M© Fee Orsi,

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Now let us go to a more ordinary opening? of him, that the truth may be the more palpable: and so I hope, though we get not so unmatched a praise as the etymology of his names will grant, yet his very description, which no man will deny, shall not justly be barred from a principal commendation. [DEFINITION

AND

CLASSIFICATION

OF POETRY]

Poesy therefore is an art of imitation, for so Aristotle termeth it in the word mimesis*—that is to say, a representing, counterfeiting, or figuring forth—

to speak metaphorically, a speaking picture—with this end, to teach and delight.* Of this have been three general kinds. The chief, both in antiquity and excellency, were they that did imitate the unconceivable excellencies of God. Such were David in his Psalms; Solomon in his Song of Songs, in his Ecclesiastes, and Proverbs; Moses and Deborah in their Hymns; and the writer of

Job: which, beside other, the learned Emanuel Tremellius and Franciscus Junius® do entitle the poetical part of the Scripture. Against these none will speak that hath the Holy Ghost in due holy reverence. (In this kind, though in a full wrong divinity, were Orpheus, Amphion, Homer in his Hymns,’ and many other, both Greeks and Romans.) And this poesy must be used by whosoever will follow St. James’s counsel in singing psalms when they are merry;® and I know is used with the fruit of comfort by some, when, in sorrowful pangs of their death-bringing sins, they find the consolation of the never-leaving goodness. The second kind is of them that deal with matters philosophical, either moral, as Tyrtaeus, Phocylides, Cato;? or natural, as Lucretius and Virgil’s Georgics; or astronomical, as Manilius and Pontanus; or historical, as Lucan:!

which who mislike, the fault is in their judgment quite out of taste, and not in the sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge. But because this second sort is wrapped within the fold of the proposed subject, and takes not the course of his own invention, whether they properly be poets or no let grammarians dispute, and go to the third, indeed right? poets, of whom chiefly this question ariseth: betwixt whom and these second 2. Analysis or explanation.

3. Poetics 1.2. The third part of a judicial oration is the propositio—as Thomas Elyot explains it in The Art of Rhetoric

(1553),

“a pithy sentence,

comprehending in a small room the sum of the whole matter.” This is followed by the divisio, in which the subject is divided into its parts and the orator clarifies which of these are in dispute. 4. The primary authorities for the commonplace notions that a poem is a “speaking picture” and that the end of poetry is “to teach and delight” are, respectively, Plutarch (ca. 46—ca.

120 C.E.),

especially in How to Study Poetry 17-18, and Horace (65-8 B.c.£.), Art of Poetry, lines 343—44. The compounded definition, and the threefold classification of poets that follows, stem from Scaliger. 5. See

Exodus

15.1—18,

Deuteronomy

32.1—44,

Judges 5. 6. Two scholars who published a Protestant Latin translation of the Bible, in 1579.

7. The Homeric Hymns are a collection of ancient Greek poems addressed to various gods and formerly attributed to Homer. Similarly,

Orpheus (the archetypal poet of Greek mythology) was thought to be the author of a group of poems that expound the beliefs of a Greek mysteryreligion. The lyre-playing of Amphion (a son of Zeus) moved stones to form themselves into the

walls of Thebes. 8. “Is any merry? let him sing psalms” (James 59115}.

9, The Roman Marcus Cato was the author of Disticha de moribus, an immensely popular collection, in verse and prose, of moral maxims. Tyrtaeus and Phocylides are among the Greek poets Sidney has previously mentioned. 1. Lucan wrote De bello civili (On the Civil War;

also known as the Pharsalia), an epic poem on the struggle between Caesar and Pompey. Lucretius wrote a philosophical poem, De rerum natura (On the Nature of Things). Virgil's Georgics exalts the life and work of the farmer. Manilius wrote a long poem titled Astronomica, The 15th-century Italian writer Pontanus—the only post-classical poet in this list—was the author of another celebrated

astronomical poem, Urania. 2. Justly entitled to the name.

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is such a kind of difference as betwixt the meaner’ sort of painters, who counterfeit only such faces as are set before them, and the more excellent, who having no law but wit, bestow that in colors upon you which is fittest for the eye to see: as the constant though lamenting look of Lucretia, when she punished in herself another’s fault,* wherein he painteth not Lucretia, whom he never saw, but painteth the outward beauty of such a virtue. For these third? be they which most properly do imitate to teach and delight, and to imitate borrow nothing of what is, hath been, or shall be; but range, only reined with learned discretion, into the divine consideration of what may be and should be. These be they that, as the first and most noble sort may justly be termed vates, so these are waited on in the excellentest languages and best understandings with® the fore-described name of poets. For these indeed do merely’ make to imitate, and imitate both to delight and teach; and delight, to move men to take that goodness in hand, which without delight they would fly as from a stranger; and teach, to make them know that goodness whereunto they are moved—which being the noblest scope to which ever any learning was directed, yet want® there not idle tongues to bark at them. These be subdivided into sundry more special denominations. The most notable be the heroic,’ lyric, tragic, comic, satiric, iambic, elegiac,' pastoral, and certain others, some of these being termed according to the matter they deal with, some by the sorts of verses they liked best to write in; for indeed the greatest part of poets have appareled their poetical inventions in that numbrous* kind of writing which is called verse—indeed but appareled, verse being but an ornament and no cause to poetry, since there have been many most excellent poets that never versified, and now swarm many versifiers that need never answer to the name of poets. For Xenophon, who did imitate so excellently as to give us effigiem iusti imperii, the portraiture of a just empire, under the name of Cyrus (as Cicero saith of him), made therein an absolute heroical poem. So did Heliodorus in his sugared invention of that picture of love in Theagenes and Chariclea; and yet both these wrote in prose: which I speak to show that it is not rhyming and versing that maketh a poet—no more than a long gown maketh an advocate,* who though he pleaded in armor should be an advocate and no soldier. But it is that feigning notable images of virtues, vices, or what else, with that delightful teaching,

which must be the right describing note* to know a poet by; although indeed

the senate of poets hath chosen verse as their fittest raiment, meaning, as in

matter they passed all in all,” so in manner to go beyond them: not speaking (table-talk fashion or like men in a dream) words as they chanceably fall from the mouth, but peising® each syllable of each word by just proportion according to the dignity of the subject.

3. Lower. 4. A notable exemplar of chastity and honor, the Roman matron Lucretia committed suicide after being raped by the son of King Tarquinius Superbus. “Wit”: creative imagination. 5. Le., the right poets. 6. Only. “Waited on . . . with”: distinguished by. 7. Lack. “Scope”: aim. 8. Epic.

9. Two genres are named after their Greek and

Latin verse forms. “Iambic”: associated with directly vituperative poetry (as distinguished from the irony of satire). “Elegiac”: poetry written in the “elegiac couplet,” which was used especially for reflective, lamenting, or erotic poetry. f 2. I.e., in numbers, poetic meters. 3. Lawyer. 4. The true distinguishing characteristics. 5. All others, in all respects.

6. Weighing.

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Now therefore it shall not be amiss first to weigh this latter sort of poetry by his works, and then by his parts; and if in neither of these anatomies he be condemnable, I hope we shall obtain a more favorable sentence.’ This purifying of wit—this enriching of memory, enabling of judgment, and enlarging of conceit*—which commonly we call learning, under what name soever it come forth, or to what immediate end soever it be directed,

the final end is to lead and draw us to as high a perfection as our degenerate souls, made worse by their clayey lodgings, can be capable of. This, according to the inclination of the man, bred many-formed? impressions. For some that thought this felicity principally to be gotten by knowledge, and no knowledge to be so high or heavenly as acquaintance with the stars, gave themselves to astronomy; others, persuading themselves to be demigods if they knew the causes of things, became natural and supernatural philosophers; some an admirable delight drew to music; and some the certainty of demonstration to the mathematics. But all, one and other, hav-

ing this scope: to know, and by knowledge to lift up the mind from the dungeon of the body to the enjoying his own divine essence. But when by the balance of experience it was found that the astronomer,

looking to the stars, might fall in a ditch,’ that the inquiring philosopher might be blind in himself, and the mathematician might draw forth a straight line with a crooked heart, then lo, did proof, the overruler of opinions, make

manifest that all these are but serving sciences, which, as they have each a private? end in themselves, so yet are they all directed to the highest end of the mistress-knowledge, by the Greeks called architectonike,* which stands (as I think) in the knowledge of a man’s self, in the ethic and politic consideration, with the end of well-doing and not of well-knowing only—even as the saddler’s next? end is to make a good saddle, but his further end to serve a nobler faculty, which is horsemanship, so the horseman’s to soldiery, and the soldier not only to have the skill, but to perform the practice of a soldier. So that, the ending end of all earthly learning being virtuous action, those skills that most serve to bring forth that have a most just title to be princes over all the rest. Wherein, if we can, show we the poet’s nobleness, by setting him before

his other competitors. Among whom as principal challengers step forth the moral philosophers, whom, methinketh, I see coming towards me with a sullen gravity, as though they could not abide vice by daylight, rudely clothed for to witness outwardly their contempt of outward things, with books in their hands against glory, whereto they set their names, sophistically> speaking against subtlety, and angry with any man in whom they see the foul fault of anger. These men casting largess as they go, of definitions, divisions, and distinctions,® with a scornful interrogative do soberly ask whether it be 7. Judgment. “Works”: effects. “Anatomies’: analyses. Here Sidney moves to the central and longest part of the judicial oration, the confirmatio or examinatio, in which the speaker develops the arguments in support of his (or her) position.

8. Conceptual power. “Wit”: intellect; understanding. “Enabling”: strengthening. 9, Manifold. “Inclination”: natural disposition.

1. As Plato (Theatatus 174) reported of the philosopher and astronomer Thales. 2. Particular. 3. The “chief art,” to which all others are subordinate. The term is Aristotle's (Ethics 1.1). 4. Nearest. 5. Subtly. 6. Le., bountiful gifts of scholastic terms and arguments.

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possible to find any path so ready to lead a man to virtue as that which teacheth what virtue is; and teach it not only by delivering forth his very being, his causes and effects, but also by making known his enemy, vice, which must

be destroyed, and his cumbersome’ servant, passion, which must be mastered; by showing the generalities that containeth it, and the specialities that are derived from it; lastly, by plain setting down how it extendeth itself out of the limits of a man’s own little world to the government of families and maintaining of public societies. The historian scarcely giveth leisure to the moralist to say so much, but that he, laden with old mouse-eaten records, authorizing himself® (for the

most part) upon other histories, whose greatest authorities are built upon the notable foundation of hearsay; having much ado to accord differing writers and to pick truth out of their partiality;? better acquainted with a thousand years ago than with the present age, and yet better knowing how this world goeth than how his own wit runneth; curious for antiquities and inquisitive of novelties; a wonder to young folks and a tyrant in table talk, denieth, in a great chafe,' that any man for teaching of virtue and virtuous actions is comparable to him. “I am testis temporum, lux veritatis, vita memoriae, magistra

vitae, nuntia vetustatis.”* “The philosopher,” saith he, “teacheth a disputative virtue, but I do an active. His virtue is excellent in the dangerless Academy of Plato, but mine showeth forth her honorable face in the battles of Marathon,

Pharsalia, Poitiers, and Agincourt.* He teacheth virtue by certain abstract considerations, but I only bid you follow the footing of them that have gone before you. Old-aged experience goeth beyond the fine-witted philosopher, but I give the experience of many ages. Lastly, if he make the songbook, I put the learner’s hand to the lute; and if he be the guide, I am the light.” Then would he allege you innumerable examples, confirming story by stories, how much the wisest senators and princes have been directed by the credit of history, as Brutus, Alphonsus ofAragon,’ and who not, if need be? At length the long line of their disputation maketh a point? in this, that the one giveth the precept, and the other® the example. Now whom shall we find (since the question standeth for the highest form in the school of learning) to be moderator?’ Truly, as me seemeth, the poet;

and if not a moderator, even the man that ought to carry the title from them both, and much more from all other serving sciences. Therefore compare we the poet with the historian and with the moral philosopher; and if he go beyond them both, no other human skill can match him. For as for the divine,® with all reverence it is ever to be excepted, not only for having his scope as far beyond any of these as eternity exceedeth a moment, but even for passing?

7. Obstructive; troublesome. 8. Basing his authority. 9. Bias. “Accord”: reconcile. 1. Temper.

2. “Iam the witness of times, the light of truth, the life of memory, the teacher of life, the messenger of antiquity” (Cicero, De oratore 2.9.36). 3. At Poitiers (1356) and Agincourt (1415), the English defeated the French. At Marathon, the Greeks defeated the Persians (490 B.c.g.). At

Pharsalia, Caesar defeated Pompey (48 B.c.£.). 4. Alfonso V of Aragon (1396-1458) carried the histories of Livy and Caesar into battle with him.

Marcus

Brutus

was

inspired to rise up against

Caesar by the history of his great republican ancestor, Junius Brutus, who expelled the Tarquin kings. 5. Comes to a full stop. 6. The historian. “The one”: the philosopher. 7. Judge, arbitrator. Sidney images the rival claims of philosophy and history as a formal aca-

demic disputation—a standard exercise at the time—engaging the top class (“highest form”) in the “school of learning.” 8. The theologian. 9. Surpassing.

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each of these in themselves. And for the lawyer, though Ius! be the daughter of Justice, and justice the chief of virtues, yet because he seeketh to make men

good rather formidine poenae than virtutis amore;* or, to say righter, doth not endeavor to make men good, but that their evil hurt not others; having no care, so he be a good citizen, how bad a man he be: therefore as our wicked-

ness maketh him? necessary, and necessity maketh him honorable, so is he not in the deepest truth to stand in rank with these* who all endeavor to take naughtiness away and plant goodness even in the secretest cabinet’ of our souls. And these four are all that any way deal in that consideration of men’s manners,° which being the supreme knowledge, they that best breed it deserve the best commendation. The philosopher, therefore, and the historian are they which would win the goal, the one by precept, the other by example. But both, not having both, do both halt.” For the philosopher, setting down with thorny arguments the bare rule, is so hard of utterance and so misty to be conceived, that one that hath no other guide but him shall wade in him till he be old before he shall find sufficient cause to be honest.® For his knowledge standeth so upon the abstract and general, that happy? is that man who may understand him, and more happy that can apply what he doth understand. On the other side, the historian, wanting! the precept, is so tied, not to what should be but to what is, to the particular truth of things and not to the general reason of things, that his example draweth no necessary consequence, and therefore a less fruitful doctrine. Now doth the peerless poet perform both: for whatsoever the philosopher saith should be done, he giveth a perfect picture of it in someone by whom he presupposeth it was done, so as he coupleth the general notion with the particular example. A perfect picture I say, for he yieldeth to the powers of the mind an image of that whereof the philosopher bestoweth but a wordish description, which doth neither strike, pierce, nor possess the sight of the soul so much as that other doth. For as in outward things, to a man that had never seen an elephant or a rhinoceros, who should tell him most exquisitely’ all their shapes, color, bigness, and particular marks, or of a gorgeous palace the architecture, with declaring the full beauties, might well make the hearer able to repeat, as it were by rote, all he had heard, yet should never satisfy his inward conceit? with being witness to itself of a true lively knowledge; but the same man, as soon as he might see those beasts well painted, or that house well in model, should straightways grow, without need of any description, to a judicial’ comprehending of them: so no doubt the philosopher with his learned definitions—be it of virtue, vices, matters of public policy or private government’—replenisheth the memory with many infallible grounds of wisdom, which, notwithstanding, lie dark before the imaginative and judging power, if they be not illuminated or figured forth® by the speaking picture of poesy. 1. Law (Latin). 2. Through fear of punishment than love of virtue. The distinction is from Horace, Epistles 1.16.52—53. 3. Le., the lawyer. 4. Moral philosopher, historian, and poet. 5. Most private chamber. “Naughtiness”: wickedness. 6. Moral conduct.

7. 8. 9. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Limp (having, after all, only one leg each). Virtuous. Fortunate. Not having. Discriminatingly. Conception. Judicious. Individual conduct (as opposed to “public policy”). Given form or shape.

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Tully’ taketh much pains, and many times not without poetical helps, to make us know the force love of our country hath in us. Let us but hear old Anchises speaking in the midst of Troy’s flames, or see Ulysses in the fullness of all Calypso’s delights bewail his absence from barren and beggarly Ithaca.* Anger, the Stoics said, was a short madness:? let but Sophocles bring you Ajax on a stage, killing or whipping sheep and oxen, thinking them the army of Greeks,! with their chieftains Agamemnon and Menelaus, and tell me if you have not a more familiar insight into anger than finding in the schoolmen his genus and difference.* See whether wisdom and temperance in Ulysses and Diomedes, valor in Achilles, friendship in Nisus and Euryalus,* even to an ignorant man carry not an apparent shining;* and, contrarily, the remorse of conscience in Oedipus, the soon repenting pride in Agamemnon, the selfdevouring cruelty in his father Atreus, the violence of ambition in the two Theban brothers, the sour-sweetness of revenge in Medea;’ and, to fall lower,

the Terentian Gnatho and our Chaucer's Pandar® so expressed that we now use their names to signify their trades: and finally, all virtues, vices, and passions so in their own natural seats laid to the view, that we seem not to hear

of them, but clearly to see through them. But even in the most excellent determination of goodness, what philosopher’s counsel can so readily direct a prince, as the feigned Cyrus in Xenophon; or a virtuous man in all fortunes, as Aeneas in Virgil; or a whole commonwealth, as the way of Sir Thomas More’s Utopia? I say the way, because where Sir Thomas More erred, it was the fault of the man and not of the poet, for that way of patterning a commonwealth was most absolute,’ though he perchance hath not so absolutely performed it. For the question is, whether the feigned image of poetry or the regular instruction of philosophy hath the more force in teaching: wherein if the philosophers have more rightly showed themselves philosophers than the poets have attained to the high top of their profession, as in truth Mediocribus esse poetis, Non dii, non homines, non concessere columnae;®

it is, | say again, not the fault of the art, but that by few men that art can be

accomplished. Certainly, even our Savior Christ could as well have given the moral commonplaces of uncharitableness and humbleness as the divine narration of 7.

Acommon

English name for Cicero (Marcus

Tullius Cicero).

8. All the charms of the lovely nymph Calypso, and the promise of immortality with her, could not make Odysseus forget his home on the Greek isle of Ithaca (Odyssey 5.149-224). Anchises, the father of Aeneas, laments his destroyed homeland in Aeneid 2.638—49. 9. The formulation is Horace’s (Epistles 1.2.62). 1. In fact, Sophocles’s Ajax does not portray its protagonist’s mad actions on the stage but has them reported by Menelaus (lines 1052—61).

2. In the logic of the Scholastic philosophers

(‘schoolmen”), “differences” are the attributes that distinguish among the species in a genus. 3. Allare figures in the story of the Trojan War, as recounted in the Iliad and, for the faithful friends Nisus and Euryalus, the Aeneid (9.176—449). 4. An evident splendor.

5. All are figures from Greek and Roman tragedy. “The two Theban brothers”: Eteocles and Polynices, twin sons of Oedipus, who killed each other in battle. (For Atreus—the father of Agamemnon, leader of the Greeks against Troy—see p. 560, n. 1). 6. The common noun pander derives from Pandarus, the go-between in Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde. Similarly, Gnatho—a figure in the Eunuch of the Roman comic dramatist Terence— became a type-name for a fawning parasite. 7. Perfect. Sidney approves of More’s casting a work of political philosophy as an account of a voyage to a fictional country, but he does not want to be thought of as endorsing all features of the Utopian commonwealth (especially, one surmises, its communism).

8. “That poets be middling, neither gods, nor men, nor booksellers ever allowed” (Horace, Art of Poetry 372-73).

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Dives and Lazarus; or of disobedience and mercy, as that heavenly discourse of the lost child and the gracious father;? but that His through-searching wisdom knew the estate! of Dives burning in hell, and of Lazarus in Abra-

ham’s bosom, would more constantly (as it were) inhabit both the memory and judgment. Truly, for myself, meseems I see before mine eyes the lost child’s disdainful prodigality, turned to envy a swine’s dinner: which by the learned divines are thought not historical acts,’ but instructing parables. For conclusion, I say the philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth obscurely, so as the learned only can understand him, that is to say, he teacheth them

that are already taught; but the poet is the food for the tenderest stomachs, the poet is indeed the right popular philosopher, whereof Aesop’s tales give good proof: whose pretty allegories, stealing under the formal’ tales of beasts, make many, more beastly than beasts, begin to hear the sound of virtue from these dumb speakers. But now may it be alleged that if this imagining of matters be so fit for the imagination, then must the historian needs surpass, who bringeth you images of true matters; such as indeed were done, and not such as fantastically or falsely may be suggested to have been done. Truly, Aristotle himself, in his discourse of poesy, plainly determineth this question, saying that poetry is philosophoteron and spoudaioteron, that is to say, it is more philosophical and more studiously serious than history.4 His reason is, because poesy dealeth with katholou, that is to say, with the universal consideration, and the history with kathekaston,

the particular: now, saith he, the universal weighs what

is fit to be said or done, either in likelihood or necessity (which the poesy considereth in his imposed names), and the particular only marks whether Alcibiades did, or suffered, this or that.> Thus far Aristotle: which reason of his (as all his) is most full of reason. For indeed, if the question were whether

it were better to have a particular act truly or falsely set down, there is no doubt which is to be chosen, no more

than whether you had rather have

9, The Prodigal Son (Luke 15.11—32); for the parable of the rich Dives and the beggar Lazarus, see

force, weighing “what is fit to be said or done.” Aristotle says only that “by a universal statement I mean one as to what such or such a kind of man will probably or necessarily say or do.”

Vespasian’s® picture right as he was, or, at the painter's pleasure, nothing resembling. But if the question be for your own use and learning, whether it be better to have it set down as it should be, or as it was, then certainly is more doctrinable’ the feigned Cyrus in Xenophon than the true Cyrus in Justin, and the feigned Aeneas in Virgil than the right Aeneas in Dares Phrygius:® as to a lady that desired to fashion her countenance to the best grace, a painter should more benefit her to portrait a most sweet face, writing Canidia upon it, than to paint Canidia as she was, who, Horace sweareth, was full ill-favored.?

Luke 16.1931.

1. Condition. 2. Records. 3. L.e., in the form of.

6. Vespasian was emperor of Rome 69-79 C.E. 7. Instructive.

4, Poetics 9. 5. Alcibiades, an Athenian politician and disciple of Socrates, died in 404 B.c.E.—twenty years before Aristotle's birth. Sidney’s summary of Aristotle’s passage is accurate, with the important exception that he imposes the notion that Aristotelian universals have a morally prescriptive

Trojan War. Justin was a Roman historian of the 2nd or 3rd century C.£. who wrote an abridgment of a now-lost universal history by one Trogus. 9. For the lost looks of the witch Canidia, see Horace, Epodes 5.

8. Mentioned in the Iliad, Dares Phrygius was the supposed author of an eyewitness account of the

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If the poet do his part aright, he will show you in Tantalus, Atreus,’ and suchlike, nothing that is not to be shunned; in Cyrus, Aeneas, Ulysses, each

thing to be followed; where the historian, bound to tell things as things were, cannot be liberal (without he will be poetical) of a perfect pattern, but, as in Alexander or Scipio himself,” show doings, some to be liked, some to be misliked. And then how will you discern what to follow but by your own discretion, which you had without reading Quintus Curtius? And whereas

a

man may say, though in universal consideration of doctrine the poet prevaileth, yet that the history,? in his saying such a thing was done, doth warrant a man

more in that he shall follow*—the answer is manifest: that, if he

stand upon that was (as if he should argue, because it rained yesterday, therefore it should rain today), then indeed hath it some advantage to a gross conceit; but if he know an example only informs a conjectured likelihood, and so go by reason,° the poet doth so far exceed him’ as he is to frame his example to that which is most reasonable (be it in warlike, politic, or private

matters), where the historian in his bare “was” hath many times that which we call fortune to overrule the best wisdom. Many times he must tell events whereof he can yield no cause; or, if he do, it must be poetically. For that a feigned example hath as much force to teach as a true example (for as for to move, it is clear, since the feigned may be tuned to the highest

key of passion), let us take one example wherein an historian and a poet did concur. Herodotus and Justin do both testify that Zopyrus, King Darius’ faithful servant, seeing his master long resisted by the rebellious Babylonians, feigned himself in extreme disgrace of his king: for verifying of which, he caused his own nose and ears to be cut off, and so flying to the Babylonians was received, and for his known valor so sure credited, that

he did find means to deliver them over to Darius.* Much like matter doth Livy record of Tarquinius and his son. Xenophon excellently feigneth such another stratagem performed by Abradatas in Cyrus’ behalf. Now would I fain know, if occasion be presented unto you to serve your prince by such an honest dissimulation, why you do not as well learn it of Xenophon’s fiction as of the other’s verity; and truly so much the better, as you shall save your nose by the bargain: for Abradatas did not counterfeit so far. So then the best of the historian is subject to the poet; for whatsoever action, or faction, whatsoever counsel, policy, or war stratagem the historian is bound to recite, that may the poet (if he list)? with his imitation make his own, beautifying it both for further teaching and more delighting, as it please him: having all, from Dante’s heaven to his hell, under the authority of his pen. 1. Figures from Greek mythology. In one version of his story, Tantalus served up his son at a banquet for the gods; similarly, his grandson Atreus served his brother’s children to him. 2. Alexander the Great was often represented— for example, by the Roman historian Quintus Curtius—as having been corrupted by power; and even Scipio Africanus—the conqueror of Hannibal and one of the most unreservedly admired

Romans—was,

in

his

later

years,

accused of political misconduct. “Cannot be liberal... of”: is not at liberty to give. 3. The historian. “Doctrine”: instruction. 4. Le., provides more reliable assurance as to what course one should follow. 5. l.e., to a person of undiscriminating intelli-

gence. 6. Le., ifa person is sufficiently sophisticated to understand example.

that reason

is a better guide than

7. l.e., the historian.

8. Darius I was king of Persia 521-486 B.c.z. The

story of his faithful servant Zopyrus was told in Herodotus’s Histories 3.15360 and repeated in Justin’s Histories 1.10. Somewhat similar stories

(see the two following sentences) are recounted by the Roman historian Livy (concerning the last of the Tarquin kings and his son) in From the Foundation of the City 1.53—54 and in Xenophon’s Cyropaedia 6.1.38—44, 6.3.14—20 (though about Gyrus and one Araspas—not, as Sidney has it, Abradatas).

9. Likes.

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Which if I be asked what poets have done so, as I might well name some, so

yet say I, and say again, I speak of the art, and not of the artificer. Now, to that which commonly is attributed to the praise of history, in respect of the notable learning is got by marking the success,' as though therein a man should see virtue exalted and vice punished—truly that commendation is particular to poetry, and far off from history. For indeed poetry ever sets virtue so out in her best colors, making Fortune her wellwaiting handmaid, that one must needs be enamored of her. Well may you see Ulysses in a storm,’ and in other hard plights; but they are but exercises of patience and magnanimity, to make them shine the more in the nearfollowing prosperity. And of the contrary part, if evil men come to the stage, they ever go out (as the tragedy writer? answered to one that misliked the show of such persons) so manacled as they little animate folks to follow them. But the history, being captived to the truth of a foolish world, is many times a terror* from well-doing, and an encouragement to unbridled wickedness. For see we not valiant Miltiades? rot in his fetters? The just Phocion® and the accomplished Socrates put to death like traitors? The cruel Severus’ live prosperously? The excellent Severus® miserably murdered? Sulla and Marius’ dying in their beds? Pompey and Cicero! slain then when they would have thought exile a happiness? See we not virtuous Cato driven to kill himself,” and rebel Caesar so advanced that his name yet, after 1600 years, lasteth in the highest honor? And mark but even Caesar's own words of the aforenamed Sulla (who

in that only did honestly, to put down his dishonest tyranny), literas nescivit, as if want of learning caused him to do well.* He meant it not by* poetry, which, not content with earthly plagues, deviseth new punishments in hell for tyrants, nor yet by philosophy, which teacheth occidendos esse,’ but no doubt by skill in history, for that indeed can afford you Cypselus, Periander, Phalaris, Dionysius,° and I know not how many more of the same kennel, that speed’ well enough in their abominable injustice of usurpation. I conclude, therefore, that he® excelleth history, not only in furnishing the mind with knowledge, but in setting it forward to that which deserveth to be called and accounted good: which setting forward, and moving to well-doing, indeed setteth the laurel crown upon the poets as victorious, not only of the historian, but over the philosopher, howsoever in teaching it may be questionable.’ For suppose it be granted (that which I suppose with great reason may be denied) that the philosopher, in respect of his methodical proceeding, doth 1. Outcome.

2. In Odyssey 5.291ff. 3. Euripides (as reported by Plutarch, How to Study Poetry 4). 4. l.e., a deterrent.

5. Athenian general and architect of victory at Marathon over the Persians, later imprisoned by the Athenians. 6. Athenian general and statesman executed for treason because he opposed ill-advised opposition to Athens’ Macedonian conquerors. 7. Emperor Lucius Septimius Severus, noted for ruthlessness. 8. Emperor Alexander Severus, a reformer slain by his troops.

9. Political

rivals

who

brought

destruction to Rome for two decades.

unrest

and

1. The great orator, killed at Mark Antony's command. Pompey the Great, defeated by Caesar at Pharsalia and slain in Egypt. 2. Cato the Younger committed suicide after his party failed to defeat Caesar. 3. When Sulla resigned (“put down’) his dictatorship, Caesar joked that he was illiterate (literas nescivit), since he left the dictatura (which means

both “dictatorship” and “dictation”) to others.

4. With reference to. 5. They [tyrants] must be killed. 6. Four famous tyrants of the classical world: the first two were from Corinth, Phalaris was from Agrigentum, and Dionysus the Elder was from Syracuse. 7. Succeed. 8. Le., poetry.

9. Arguable.

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teach more perfectly than the poet, yet do I think that no man is so much philophilosophos! as to compare the philosopher in moving with the poet. And that moving is of a higher degree than teaching, it may by this appear, that it is well nigh both the cause and effect of teaching. For who will be taught, if he be not moved with desire to be taught? And what so much

good doth that teaching bring forth (I speak still of moral doctrine) as that it moveth one to do that which it doth teach? For, as Aristotle saith, it is not

gnosis but praxis? must be the fruit. And how praxis cannot be, without being moved to practice, it is no hard matter to consider. The philosopher showeth you the way, he informeth you of the particularities, as well of the tediousness of the way, as of the pleasant lodging you shall have when your journey is ended, as of the many by-turnings that may divert you from your way. But this is to no man but to him that will read him, and read him with attentive studious painfulness;* which constant desire whosoever hath in him, hath already passed half the hardness of the way, and therefore is beholding to the philosopher but for the other half. Nay truly, learned men have learnedly thought that where once reason hath so much overmastered passion as that the mind hath a free desire to do well, the inward light each mind hath in itself is as good as a philosopher’s book; since in nature* we know it is well to do well, and what is well, and what is evil, although not

in the words of art which philosophers bestow upon us; for out of natural conceit’ the philosophers drew it. But to be moved to do that which we know, or to be moved with desire to know, hoc opus, hic labor est.®

Now therein of all sciences (I speak still of human,’ and according to the human conceit) is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the first give you a cluster of grapes, that full of that taste, you may long to pass further. He beginneth not with obscure definitions, which must blur the margin with interpretations and load the memory with doubtfulness; but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well enchanting skill of music; and with a

tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner. And, pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue—even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things by hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste, which, if one should begin to tell them the nature ofaloes or rhabarbarum® they should receive, would sooner take their

physic at their ears than at their mouth.’ So is it in men (most of which are childish in the best things, till they be cradled in their graves): glad will they be to hear the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, Aeneas; and, hearing them, must needs hear the right description of wisdom, valor, and justice; which, if

they had been barely, that is to say philosophically, set out, they would swear they be brought to school again. 1. A lover of philosophers. 2. Not knowing but doing (Ethics 1.3). 3. Painstaking effort. 4. Considering that by nature. 5. Natural understanding, as opposed to the philosophers’ special vocabulary (“words of art”). 6. This is the task, this is the work to be done

(Virgil, Aeneid 6.129). 7. As opposed to divine. “Sciences”: branches of learning. 8. Two bitter purgatives: aloe and rhubarb. 9. I.e., would rather have their ears boxed than take the medicine.

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That imitation whereof poetry is hath the most conveniency! to nature of all other, insomuch that, as Aristotle saith, those things which in themselves are horrible, as cruel battles, unnatural monsters, are made in poeti-

cal imitation delightful.* Truly, | have known men that even with reading Amadis de Gaule* (which God knoweth wanteth much of a perfect poesy) have found their hearts moved to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, and especially courage. Who readeth Aeneas carrying old Anchises on his back, that wisheth not it were his fortune to perform so excellent an act? Whom doth not these words of Turnus move, the tale of Turnus having planted his image in the imagination,

Fugientem haec terra videbit? Usque adeone mori miserum est?* Where the philosophers, as they scorn to delight, so much they be content little to move—saving wrangling whether virtus? be the chief or the only good, whether the contemplative or the active life do excell—which Plato and Boethius well knew, and therefore made Mistress Philosophy very often borrow the masking raiment of poesy.® For even those hard-hearted evil men who think virtue a school name, and know no other good but indulgere genio,’ and therefore despise the austere admonitions of the philosopher, and feel not the inward reason they stand upon, yet will be content to be delighted—which is all the good-fellow poet seemeth to promise—and so steal’ to see the form of goodness (which seen they cannot but love) ere themselves be aware, as if they took a medicine of cherries. Infinite proofs of the strange effects of this poetical invention might be alleged; only two shall serve, which are so often remembered as I think all men know them. The one of Menenius Agrippa,’ who, when the whole people of Rome had resolutely divided themselves from the senate, with apparent show of utter ruin, though he were (for that time) an excellent orator,

came not among them upon trust of figurative speeches or cunning insinuations, and much less with far-fet! maxims of philosophy, which (especially if they were Platonic) they must have learned geometry before they could well have conceived; but forsooth he behaves himself like a homely and familiar poet. He telleth them a tale, that there was a time when all the parts of the body made a mutinous conspiracy against the belly, which they thought devoured the fruits of each other’s labor; they concluded they would let so unprofitable a spender starve. In the end, to be short (for the tale is notori-

ous, and as notorious that it was a tale), with punishing the belly they plagued themselves. This applied by him wrought such effect in the people, 1. Congruity; suitability. 2. Poetics 4. 3. A chivalric romance of Spanish origin, which became extremely popular in a French translation.

4, Aeneid 12.645—46: “Shall this land see Turnus in flight? Is it so bad a thing to die?” The Italian king Turnus is Aeneas’s worthy rival, killed by the epic hero in the poem's closing lines. Aeneas carries his father, Anchises, away from burning Troy in 2.705 ff.

5. Virtue. “Saving”: except. The (satiric) point is that wrangling over standard philosophical questions is unlikely to move anyone other than the wrangling philosophers themselves.

6. For Plato’s use of “poetry” (i.e., fiction), see p. 549. The Consolation of Philosophy of Boethius (476-524 c.g.) is cast as a dialogue between himself and Lady Philosophy, and alternates prose and verse. 7. To follow one’s natural inclination. 8. Le., come accidentally.

9, Roman consul in 503 B.c.£. The story of his parable was first related by Livy, From the Foundation of the City 2.32. 1. Farfetched. 2. A medieval tradition held that over the door of Plato’s Academy was written: “No man untaught in geometry should enter.”

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as I never read that only words brought forth but then? so sudden and so good an alteration; for upon reasonable conditions a perfect reconcilement ensued. The other is of Nathan the prophet, who, when the holy David had

so far forsaken God as to confirm adultery with murder,* when he was to do the tenderest office of a friend in laying his own shame before his eyes, sent by God to call again so chosen a servant, how doth he it but by telling of a man whose beloved lamb was ungratefully’ taken from his bosom? The application most divinely true, but the discourse itself feigned; which made David (I speak of the second and instrumental cause®) as in a glass see his

own filthiness, as that heavenly psalm of mercy’ well testifieth. By these, therefore, examples and reasons, I think it may be manifest that the poet, with that same hand of delight, doth draw the mind more effectually than any other art doth. And so a conclusion® not unfitly ensue: that, as virtue is the most excellent resting place for all worldly learning to make his end of, so poetry, being the most familiar? to teach it, and most princely to move towards it, in the most excellent work is the most excellent workman.

[THE POETIC KINDS|

But | am content not only to decipher him! by his works (although works, in commendation or dispraise, must ever hold a high authority), but more narrowly will examine his parts; so that (as in a man) though all together may carry a presence full of majesty and beauty, perchance in some one defectous piece’ we may find blemish. Now in his parts, kinds, or species (as you list* to term them), it is to

be noted that some poesies have coupled together two or three kinds, as the tragical and comical, whereupon is risen the tragi-comical. Some, in the manner, have mingled prose and verse, as Sannazzaro and Boethius.* Some have mingled matters heroical and pastoral. But that cometh all to one in this question, for, if severed they be good, the conjunction cannot be hurtful. Therefore, perchance forgetting some and leaving some as needless to be remembered, it shall not be amiss in a word to cite the special kinds, to see what faults may be found in the right use of them. Is it then the Pastoral poem which is misliked? (For perchance where the hedge is lowest they will soonest leap over.) Is the poor pipe® disdained, which sometime out of Meliboeus’ mouth can show the misery of people under hard lords or ravening soldiers, and again, by Tityrus, what blessedness is derived to them that lie lowest from the goodness of them that sit highest;7 sometimes, under the pretty tales of wolves and sheep, can include the whole considerations of wrong-doing and patience; sometimes show that conten-

3. Except on that occasion. “Only words”: words alone. 4. By killing the husband of his mistress, Bathsheba. For the deed, and Nathan’s rebuke, see

2 Samuel 11-12. 5. Cruelly. 6. The first cause was God’s intention to bring David to repentance. 7. Psalm 51, in which David pleads for God’s

mercy. “Glass”: mirror. 8. Le., to the argument

weighing poetry by its

“works” (cf. p. 555). 9. Congenial, suitable. “End”: aim, objective. I. L.e., poetry.

. Defective part. May choose. Wh - Like Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy (see p. 563, n. 6), Jacopo Sannazaro’s pastoral romance Arcadia (1502), which greatly influenced Sidney’s own Arcadia, mixed prose and verse. 5. Pastoral was considered the humblest kind of poetry, written in the lowest style. 6. The shepherd's oaten flute, symbol of pastoral poetry.

7. In Virgil’s first eclogue, Meliboeus laments the seizure of his land, while Tityrus rejoices that his lands were protected by the emperor.

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tions for trifles can get but a trifling victory: where perchance a man may see that even Alexander and Darius, when they strave who should be cock of this

world’s dunghill, the benefit they got was that the after-livers may say Haec memini

et victum frustra contendere Thirsin:

Ex illo Corydon, Corydon est tempore nobis.*

Or is it the lamenting Elegiac; which in a kind heart would move rather pity than blame; who bewails with the great philosopher Heraclitus’ the weakness of mankind and the wretchedness of the world; who surely is to be praised, either for compassionate accompanying just causes of lamentations or for rightly painting out how weak be the passions of woefulness?! Is it the bitter but wholesome Iambic? who rubs the galled mind, in making shame the trumpet of villainy, with bold and open crying out against naughtiness?*> Or the Satiric, who

Omne vafer vitium ridenti tangit amico;* who sportingly never leaveth till he make a man laugh at folly, and at length ashamed, to laugh at himself, which he cannot avoid without avoiding the folly; who, while

circum praecordia ludit,” giveth us to feel how many headaches a passionate life bringeth us to; how, when all is done,

Est Ulubris, animus si nos non deficit aequus?°

No, perchance it is the Comic, whom naughty play-makers and stagekeepers have justly made odious. To the arguments of abuse I will answer after. Only this much now is to be said, that the comedy is an imitation of the common errors ofour life, which he representeth in the most ridiculous and scornful sort that may be, so as it is impossible that any beholder can be content to be such a one. Now, as in geometry the oblique must be known as well as the right, and in arithmetic the odd as well as the even, so in the

actions of our life who seeth not the filthiness of evil wanteth’ a great foil to virtue. This doth the comedy handle so in our private perceive the beauty of and domestical matters as with hearing it we get as it were an experience what is to be looked for of a niggardly Demea, of a crafty Davus, of a flattering Gnatho, of a vainglorious Thraso;° and not only to know what effects are to be expected, but to know who be such, by the signifying badge given them by the comedian.’ And little reason hath any man to say that men 8. “This quished, Corydon, 70). Le.,

I remember, and how Thyrsis, vanstrove in vain. / From that day it is Corydon with us” (Virgil, Eclogue 7.69— the great victory of Alexander the Great

over Darius of Persia comes to the same thing as Corydon’s victory over Thyrsis in a singing contest.

9. Ancient Greek philosopher who wept at human folly. “Who”: i.e., which.

1. Sidney restricts the elegaic to lamentations; classical poets used elegiac meter for this purpose but also in poems treating love and other topics. 2. lambic trimeter was first used by Greek poets for direct attacks (as opposed to the wit and ironic

indirection that mark satire). 3. Wickedness.

4. Persius (Satires 1.116) on the satire of Horace,

who “probes every fault while making his friends

laugh.” 5. “He plays with the very vitals [of his target]” (Persius, Satires 1.117). 6. “It is at Ulubrae, if a well-balanced mind does not fail us” (an adaptation of Horace, Epistles 1.11.30). Ulubrae was a proverbially uninspiring town surrounded by marshes. 7. Is lacking. “Who”: whoever. 8. Type characters in the Roman comedies of Terence (195-159 B.c.£.), respectively, the harsh father, clever servant, parasite, and braggart. Terence and Plautus (251-184 B.c.E.) were the chief

classical models for comedy for the Renaissance. “Niggardly”: stingy. 9. Writer of comedies. “Signifying badge”: i.e., stereotypical features of looks, dress, or behavior.

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learn the evil by seeing it so set out, since, as I said before, there is no man

living but, by the force truth hath in nature, no sooner seeth these men play their parts, but wisheth them in pistrinum;! although perchance the sack of his own faults lie so hidden behind his back that he seeth not himself dance the same measure;? whereto yet nothing can more open his eyes than to find his own actions contemptibly set forth. So that the right use of comedy will (I think) by nobody be blamed; and much less of the high and excellent Tragedy, that openeth the greatest wounds, and showeth forth the ulcers that are covered with tissue;* that maketh kings fear to be tyrants, and tyrants manifest their tyrannical humors;? that, with stirring the affects of admiration> and commiseration, teacheth the uncertainty of this world, and upon how weak foundations gilden roofs are builded; that maketh us know

Qui sceptra saevus duro imperio regit Timet timentes; metus in auctorem redit.°

But how much it can move, Plutarch yieldeth a notable testimony of the abominable tyrant Alexander Pheraeus,’ from whose eyes a tragedy, well made and represented, drew abundance of tears, who without all pity had murdered infinite numbers, and some of his own blood: so as he, that was not ashamed to make matters for tragedies, yet could not resist the sweet violence of a tragedy. And if it wrought no further good in him, it was that he, in despite of himself, withdrew himself from hearkening to that which

might mollify his hardened heart. But it is not the tragedy they do mislike; for it were too absurd to cast out so excellent a representation of whatsoever is most worthy to be learned. Is it the Lyric’ that most displeaseth, who with his tuned lyre and wellaccorded voice giveth praise, the reward of virtue, to virtuous acts; who gives moral precepts, and natural problems;? who sometimes raiseth up his voice to the height of the heavens, in singing the lauds! of the immortal God? Certainly, I must confess my own barbarousness, I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas? that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet; and yet is it sung but by some blind crowder,’ with no rougher voice than rude style; which, being so evil appareled in the dust and cobwebs of that uncivil age, what would it work trimmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar?* In Hungary I have seen it the manner at all feasts, and other such meetings, to have songs of their ancestors’ valor, which that right soldierlike nation think one of the chiefest kindlers of brave courage. The incomparable Lacedemonians? did not only carry that kind of music ever 1. Mill used for punishment of Roman slaves. 2. Ima fable of Aesop, a sack filled with one’s own faults is carried (out of sight) on the back, while one filled with the faults of others is carried in front. 3. Rich fabrics. 4. Natures or dispositions, as thought to be influenced by the balance of four chief bodily fluids, or humors—blood, phlegm, choler, and bile. 5. Awe. “Affects”: feelings. 6. “He who rules his people with a harsh government / Fears those who fear him; the fear returns upon its author” (Seneca, Oedipus, lines 705-6). 7. Plutarch records that this cruel tyrant wept at the sufferings of Hecuba and Andromache

in

Euripides’ Trojan Women. Ashamed to be seen weeping, he abruptly left the theater. 8. Here defined as poetry concerned chiefly with praise and sung (originally) to musical accompaniment.,

9. Discussions of problems of natural philosophy (the study of nature), 1. Praises. 2. “The Ballad of Chevy Chase.” 3. Fiddler. 4. The odes of Pindar (518—after 446 B.c.8.), the most exalted lyric poetry of Greece, celebrated victors in athletic games. “That uncivil age”: the Middle Ages.

5. Spartans, incomparable in fighting.

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with them to the field, but even at home, as such songs were made, so were they all content to be singers of them—when the lusty men were to tell what they did, the old men what they had done, and the young what they would do. And where a man may say that Pindar many times praiseth highly victories of small moment,

matters

rather of sport than virtue; as it may be

answered, it was the fault of the poet, and not of the poetry, so indeed the chief fault was in the time and custom of the Greeks, who set those toys® at so high a price that Philip of Macedon reckoned a horserace won at Olympus among his three fearful felicities.’ But as the unimitable Pindar often did, so is that kind most capable and most fit to awake the thoughts from the sleep of idleness to embrace honorable enterprises. There rests the Heroical*—whose

very name

(I think) should daunt all

backbiters: for by what conceit? can a tongue be directed to speak evil of that which draweth with him no less champions than Achilles, Cyrus, Aeneas,

Turnus, Tydeus, and Rinaldo?!—who doth not only teach and move to a truth, but teacheth and moveth to the most high and excellent truth; who

maketh magnanimity and justice shine through all misty fearfulness and foggy desires; who, if the saying of Plato and Tully be true, that who could see virtue would be wonderfully ravished with the love of her beauty—this man* sets her out to make her more lovely in her holiday apparel, to the eye of any that will deign not to disdain until they understand. But if anything be already said in the defense of sweet poetry, all concurreth to the maintaining the heroical, which is not only a kind, but the best and most accomplished kind of poetry. For, as the image of each action stirreth and instructeth the mind, so the lofty image of such worthies most inflameth the mind with desire to be worthy, and informs with counsel how to be worthy. Only let Aeneas be worn in the tablet of your memory, how he governeth himself in the ruin of his country; in the preserving his old father, and carrying away his religious ceremonies;? in obeying God’s commandment to leave Dido, though not only all passionate kindness, but even the human consideration of virtuous gratefulness, would have craved other of him; how in storms,

how in sports, how in war, how in peace, how a fugitive, how victorious, how besieged, how besieging, how to strangers, how to allies, how to enemies, how to his own;

lastly, how in his inward self, and how in his outward

government—and I think, in a mind not prejudiced with a prejudicating humor,‘ he will be found in excellency fruitful, yea, even as Horace saith, melius Chrysippo et Crantore.’

But truly I imagine it falleth out with these poet-whippers, as with some

good women, who often are sick, but in faith they cannot tell where; so the

name of poetry is odious to them, but neither his cause nor effects, neither

6. Trifles. 7. Plutarch records that Philip received three awesome tidings in one day: that his general was victorious in battle, that his wife had borne a son, and that his horse had won a race at Olympia (not, as Sidney mistakenly says, Olympus). 8. l.e., epic. “Rests”: remains.

9. Conception. 1. In the Renaissance Italian Ariosto’s Orlando furioso and his compatriot Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata. “Tydeus”: in the Roman poet Statius’s epic, Thebaid.

2. Le., the epic poet. 3. Sacred objects, household gods. After fleeing Troy, Aeneas and his men stayed for a time in Carthage, whose queen, Dido, became Aeneas's lover. She killed herself when Aeneas (at Jupiter's command) sailed away to accomplish his fate, the founding of the Roman Empire. 4. Disposition. 5. In Epistles 1.2.4, Horace praises Homer as a

“better [teacher] than Chrysippus [a great Stoic philosopher] and Crantor [a commentator on Plato].”

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the sum that contains him, nor the particularities descending from him, give any fast® handle to their carping dispraise. Since then poetry is of all human learning the most ancient and of most fatherly antiquity, as from whence other learnings have taken their beginnings; since it is so universal that no learned nation doth despise it, nor barbarous nation is without it; since both Roman and Greek gave such divine names unto it, the one of prophesying, the other of making, and that indeed that name of making is fit for him, considering that where all other arts retain themselves within their subject, and receive, as it were, their being from it, the

poet only bringeth his own stuff, and doth not learn a conceit out of a matter, but maketh

matter for a conceit; since neither his description nor end con-

taining any evil, the thing described cannot be evil; since his effects be so good as to teach goodness and to delight the learners; since therein (namely in moral doctrine, the chief of all knowledges) he doth not only far pass the historian but, for instructing, is well nigh comparable to the philosopher, for moving leaves him behind him; since the Holy Scripture (wherein there is no uncleanness) hath whole parts in it poetical, and that even our Savior Christ vouchsafed to use the flowers of it; since all his kinds are not only in their united forms but in their severed dissections fully commendable; I think (and

think I think rightly) the laurel crown appointed for triumphant captains doth worthily (of all other learnings) honor the poet's triumph. [ANSWERS TO CHARGES AGAINST POETRY]

But because we have ears as well as tongues, and that the lightest reasons that may be will seem to weigh greatly, if nothing be put in the counterbalance, let us hear and, as well as we can, ponder what objections be made against this art, which may be worthy either of yielding or answering.’ First, truly I note not only in these misomousoi, poet-haters, but in all that kind of people who seek a praise by dispraising others, that they do prodigally spend a great many wandering words in quips and scoffs, carping and taunting at each thing which, by stirring the spleen,*® may stay the brain from a through-beholding’ the worthiness of the subject. Those kind of objections, as they are full of a very idle easiness,' since there is nothing of so sacred a majesty but that an itching tongue may rub itself upon it, so deserve they no other answer but, instead of laughing at the jest, to laugh at the jester. We know a playing wit can praise the discretion of an ass, the comfortableness of being in debt, and the jolly commodities of being sick of the plague.” So of the contrary side, if we will turn Ovid’s verse

Ut lateat virtus proximitate mali,’ that good lie hid in nearness of the evil, Agrippa will be as merry in showing the vanity of science* as Erasmus was in the commending of folly. Neither shall any man or matter escape some touch of these smiling railers. 6. Firm. 7. The sixth part of a judicial oration is the refutatio, which, as Thomas Wilson's Art of Rhetoric says, is (or attempts to be) “a dissolving or wiping away of all such reasons as make against us.” 8. Regarded as the seat of laughter. 9. Thorough consideration of. 1. An empty glibness.

2. Sidney gives several examples of the subjects of mock encomia popular in the classical world and among Renaissance humanists; the greatest of these encomia is Erasmus's Praise of Folly. 3. Art of Love 2.662 (translated just below). 4. Referring to the German scholar Cornelius Agrippa’s Of the Uncertainty and Vanity ofthe Sciences and the Arts (1530).

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But for Erasmus and Agrippa, they had another foundation than the superficial part would promise. Marry,’ these other pleasant faultfinders, who will correct the verb before they understand the noun, and confute others’

knowledge before they confirm their own—I would have them only remember that scoffing cometh not of wisdom. So as the best title in true English they get with their merriments is to be called good fools; for so have our grave forefathers ever termed that humorous kind of jesters. But that which giveth greatest scope to their scorning humor? is rhyming and versing. It is already said’ (and, as I think, truly said), it is not rhyming and versing that maketh poesy. One may be a poet without versing, and a versifier without poetry. But yet, presuppose it were inseparable (as indeed it seemeth Scaliger judgeth),* truly it were an inseparable commendation. For if oratio next to ratio, speech next to reason, be the greatest gift bestowed upon mortality,’ that cannot be praiseless which doth most polish that blessing of speech; which considers each word, not only (as a man may say) by his most forcible quality, but by his best measured quantity,’ carrying even in themselves a harmony—without,” perchance, number, measure, order, proportion

be in our time grown odious. But lay aside the just praise it hath, by being the only fit speech for music (music, I say, the most divine striker of the senses),

thus much is undoubtedly true, that if reading be foolish without remembering, memory being the only treasure of knowledge,’ those words which are fittest for memory are likewise most convenient for knowledge. Now, that verse far exceedeth prose in the knitting up of memory, the reason is manifest: the words (besides their delight, which hath a great affinity to memory) being so set as one cannot be lost but the whole work fails; which accusing itself,

calleth the remembrance back to itself, and so most strongly confirmeth it. Besides, one word so, as it were, begetting another, as, be it in rhyme or mea-

sured verse, by the former a man shall have a near guess to the follower. Lastly, even they that have taught the art of memory have showed nothing so apt for it as a certain room divided into many places well and thoroughly known.‘ Now, that hath the verse in effect perfectly, every word having his natural seat, which seat must needs make the word remembered. But what needeth more, in a thing so known to all men? Who is it that ever was a scholar that doth not carry away some verses of Virgil, Horace, or Cato,’ which in his youth he learned, and even to his old age serve him for hourly lessons? But the fitness it hath for memory is notably proved by all delivery of arts: wherein for the most part, from grammar to logic, mathematics, physic, and the rest, the rules chiefly necessary to be borne away are compiled in verses.° So that, verse being in itself sweet and orderly, and being best for memory, the only handle of knowledge, it must be in jest that any man can speak against it.

5. Interjection expressing surprise or indignation.

It is a euphemistic variant of “Mary” (the Virgin). . Disposition. nm See pao DAs . Poetics 1.2. (For Scaliger, see p. 551, n. 2.) CO \Oo NID . Le., reason and speech are the primary distinguishing characteristics of human beings (a commonplace originating in the classical era). 1. Le., by its accent (“quality”) and its duration (“quantity”). 2. Unless. 3. Proverbial.

4. Standard systems for memorization involved associating the items to be remembered with particular features of imagined rooms. 5. Referring to the Distichs of Cato, which had for centuries been an immensely popular school text of moral advice, most of it embodied in distichs (verse couplets).

6. This pedagogical practice—which still survives in bits and pieces such as alphabet songs—was widespread in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. “Physic”: medicine.

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Now then go we to the most important imputations laid to the poor poets.’ For aught I can yet learn, they are these. First, that there being many other more fruitful knowledges, a man might better spend his time in them than in this. Secondly, that it is the mother of lies. Thirdly, that it is the nurse of abuse, infecting us with many pestilent desires; with a siren’s sweetness drawing the mind to the serpent’s tail of sinful fancies (and herein, especially, comedies give the largest field to ear,® as Chaucer saith); how, both in

other nations and in ours, before poets did soften us, we were full of courage, given to martial exercises, the pillars of manlike liberty, and not lulled asleep in shady idleness with poets’ pastimes. And lastly, and chiefly, they cry out with open mouth as if they had overshot Robin Hood, that Plato banished them out of his commonwealth.’ Truly, this is much, if there be much truth in it. First, to the first.! That a man

might better spend his time, is a reason

indeed; but it doth (as they say) but petere principium.? For if it be as I affirm, that no learning is so good as that which teacheth and moveth to virtue; and that none can both teach and move thereto so much as poetry: then is the conclusion manifest that ink and paper cannot be to a more profitable purpose employed. And certainly, though a man should grant their first assumption, it should follow (methinks) very unwillingly, that good is not good because better is better. But I still and utterly deny that there is sprung out of earth a more fruitful knowledge. To the second, therefore, that they should be the principal liars, I will answer paradoxically, but truly, I think truly, that of all writers under the sun the poet is the least liar, and, though he would,? as a poet can scarcely be a liar. The astronomer, with his cousin the geometrician, can hardly escape,* when they take upon them to measure the height of the stars. How often, think you, do the physicians lie, when they aver things good for sicknesses, which afterwards send Charon a great number of souls drowned in a potion® before they come to his ferry? And no less of the rest which take upon them to affirm. Now, for the poet, he nothing affirms, and therefore never lieth.

For, as I take it, to lie is to affirm that to be true which is false. So as the other artists,° and especially the historian, affirming many things, can, in the cloudy knowledge of mankind, hardly escape from many lies. But the poet (as I said before) never affirmeth. The poet never maketh any circles’ about your imagination, to conjure you to believe for true what he writes. He citeth not authorities of other histories, but even for his entry® calleth the sweet Muses to inspire into him a good invention; in truth, not laboring to

tell you what is or is not, but what should or should not be. And therefore, though he recount things not true, yet because he telleth them not for true,

7. All four of these major charges against poetry are traceable to classical antiquity and continued, in Sidney’s time, to be principal items of the stock in trade of imaginative literature’s detractors; and many of the points Sidney makes in rebuttal had been made by its previous defenders. 8. To plow (“Knight's Tale,” line 28).

9. Plato argued that most sorts of poets would be banished from an ideal commonwealth, because they stir up unworthy emotions and because their imitations are far removed from truth (Republic 10.595—608).

1. First objection. 2. Beg the question—i.e.,

simply presuppose

a

conclusion on the matter in question.

3. Even if he wished to. 4. L.e., can hardly avoid lying. 5. L.e., killed by medicine. Charon, in classical myth, is the ferryman who takes the souls of the

dead across the river Styx in the underworld. 6. Practitioners of the liberal arts. 7. As a magician does in conjuring spirits.

8. In his opening lines.

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he lieth not—without we will say that Nathan lied in his alleged to David:? which as a wicked man durst scarce say, so simple would say that Aesop lied in the tales of his beasts; that Aesop wrote it for actually true were well worthy to

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speech beforethink I none so for who thinks have his name

chronicled among the beasts he writeth of. What child is there, that, coming

to a play, and seeing Thebes written in great letters upon an old door,! doth believe that it is Thebes? If then a man can arrive to that child’s age to know that the poets’ persons and doings are but pictures what should be, and not stories what have been, they will never give the lie to* things not affirmatively but allegorically and figuratively written. And therefore, as in history, looking for truth, they may go away full fraught with falsehood, so in poesy, looking but for fiction, they shall use the narration but as an imaginative ground-plot of a profitable invention.* But hereto is replied, that the poets give names to men they write of, which argueth a conceit of an actual truth, and so, not being true, proves a falsehood. And doth the lawyer lie, then, when under the names of John-a-stiles and John-a-nokes* he puts his case? But that is easily answered. Their naming of men is but to make their picture the more lively, and not to build any history: painting men, they cannot leave men nameless. We see we cannot play at chess but that we must give names to our chessmen; and yet, methinks, he were a very partial champion of truth that would say we lied for giving a piece of wood the reverend title of a bishop. The poet nameth Cyrus or Aeneas no other way than to show what men of their fames, fortunes, and estates should do.

Their third is, how much it abuseth men’s wit,’ training it to wanton sinfulness and lustful love: for indeed that is the principal, if not only, abuse | can hear alleged. They say, the comedies rather teach than reprehend amorous conceits. They say the lyric is larded with passionate sonnets; the elegiac weeps the want of his mistress; and that even to the heroical, Cupid hath

ambitiously climbed.® Alas, Love, I would thou couldst as well defend thyself as thou canst offend others. I would those on whom thou dost attend could either put thee away, or yield good reason why they keep thee. But grant love of beauty to be a beastly fault (although it be very hard, since only man, and no beast, hath that gift to discern beauty); grant that lovely name of Love to deserve all hateful reproaches (although even some of my masters the philosophers spent a good deal of their lamp-oil in setting forth the excellency of it);’ grant, I say, whatsoever they will have granted, that not only love, but lust, but vanity, but (if they list) scurrility, possesseth many leaves of the

poets’ books; yet think I, when this is granted, they will find their sentence may with good manners put the last words foremost, and not say that poetry abuseth man’s wit, but that man’s wit abuseth poetry. For I will not deny but that man’s wit may make poesy, which should be eikastiké (which some learned have defined: figuring forth good things), to be 9, For Nathan’s parable, see p. 564. “Without”: unless. 1. Thebes is the setting of several classical tragedies. 2. Accuse of lying. 3. L.e., readers will find that poetry's fictions are actually the foundation (“ground-plot”) on which are erected “profitable invention|s]’—that is (as earlier), verbal “pictures [of] what should be.”

4. John (who lives) at the stile and John (who lives)

at the oak: fictitious names—equivalent to our John and Jane Doe—used in legal proceedings. 5. Mind. 6. L.e., epic is infused with eroticism, as in the Italian romance epics—and in Sidney's own contribution to that genre, Arcadia. “Want”: lack. 7. Plato, for one, in the Symposium and the Phaedrus.

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phantastiké® (which doth, contrariwise, infect the fancy with unworthy objects), as the painter, that should give to the eye either some excellent perspective or some fine picture, fit for building or fortification, or containing in it some notable example (as Abraham sacrificing his son Isaac, Judith killing Holofernes, David fighting with Goliath),? may leave those, and please an illpleased eye with wanton shows of better hidden matters.'! But what, shall the abuse of a thing make the right use odious? Nay truly, though I yield that poesy may not only be abused, but that being abused, by the reason of his sweet charming force, it can do more hurt than any other army of words: yet shall it be so far from concluding that the abuse should give reproach to the abused, that, contrariwise, it is a good reason that whatsoever, being abused,

doth most harm, being rightly used (and upon the right use each thing conceiveth his title’), doth most good. Do we not see the skill of physic, the best rampire® to our often-assaulted bodies, being abused, teach poison, the most violent destroyer? Doth not knowledge of law, whose end is to even and right all things, being abused, grow the crooked fosterer of horrible injuries? Doth not (to go to the highest) God’s word abused breed heresy, and His name abused

become

blasphemy?

Truly, a needle cannot

do much

hurt, and as

truly (with leave of ladies be it spoken), it cannot do much good: with a sword thou mayst kill thy father, and with a sword thou mayst defend thy prince and country. So that, as in their calling poets fathers of lies they said nothing, so in this their argument of abuse they prove the commendation. They allege herewith, that before poets began to be in price* our nation had set their hearts’ delight upon action, and not imagination: rather doing things worthy to be written, than writing things fit to be done. What that before-time was, I think scarcely Sphinx can tell, since no memory is so ancient that hath not the precedent of poetry. And certain it is that, in our plainest homeliness, yet never was the Albion® nation without poetry. Marry, this argument, though it be leveled against poetry, yet is it indeed a chainshot® against all learning, or bookishness, as they commonly term it. Of such mind were certain Goths, of whom it is written that, having in the

spoil of a famous city taken a fair library, one hangman’ (belike fit to exe-

cute the fruits of their wits), who had murdered a great number of bodies,

would have set fire in it: no, said another very gravely, take heed what you do, for while they are busy about these toys, we shall with more leisure conquer their countries.* This indeed is the ordinary doctrine of ignorance, and many words sometimes I have heard spent in it. But because this reason is generally against all learning as well as poetry, or rather, all learning but poetry; because it were too large a digression to handle it, or at least too 8. Plato’s distinction, Sophist 236: eikastiké: making likenesses; phantastiké: making fantasies. 9. For Abraham and Isaac, see Genesis 21-22. For David and Goliath, see 1 Samuel 17. The story of the Israelite Judith decapitating the Assyrian general Holofernes while he lay in a drunken stupor is in Chapters 10—13 of the Book of Judith—a book included in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox versions of the Old Testament but excluded from the Hebrew Bible and relegated to the Apocrypha by Protestants. 1. Matters better to remain hidden, “Ill-pleased eye”: eye pleased by evil sights. 2. Receives its justification. 3. Rampart; defense.

4. Honor, esteem.

5. Ancient name for Britain. 6. Two cannon balls linked by a chain, to do maximum damage. 7. Here used as a term of general abuse, equivalent to “villain.” 8. This story of the Goths (a Germanic

tribe)—

relating to their sack of Athens in 267 c.e.—derives from the continuation of the Roman History of Dio Cassius. Sidney’s near-contemporary Montaigne also records the story, in “Of Pedantry” (Essays 1.25)—though he deploys it in support of the view that book learning and martial prowess are inversely related.

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superfluous (since it is manifest that all government of action is to be gotten by knowledge, and knowledge best by gathering many knowledges, which is reading), I only, with Horace, to him that is of that opinion jubeo stultum esse libenter;’

for as for poetry itself, it is the freest from this objection. For poetry is the companion of camps.! I dare undertake, Orlando Furioso? or honest King Arthur will never displease a soldier; but the quiddity of ens and prima materia? will hardly agree with a corslet;* and therefore, as I said in the beginning, even Turks and Tartars are delighted with poets. Homer, a Greek, flourished before Greece flourished. And if to a slight conjecture a conjecture may be opposed, truly it may seem, that as by him their learned men took almost their first light of knowledge, so their active men received their first motions of courage. Only Alexander's example’ may serve, who by Plutarch is accounted of such virtue that Fortune was not his guide but his footstool; whose acts speak for him, though® Plutarch did not: indeed the phoenix of warlike princes. This Alexander left his schoolmaster, living Aristotle, behind him, but took dead Homer with him.’ He put the philosopher Callisthenes to death for his seeming philosophical, indeed mutinous, stubbornness, but the chief thing he was ever heard to wish for was that Homer had been alive.* He well found he received more bravery of mind by the pattern of Achilles than by hearing the definition of fortitude. And therefore, if Cato misliked Fulvius for carrying Ennius with him to the field,’ it may be answered that, if Cato misliked it, the noble Fulvius liked it, or else he had

not done it; for it was not the excellent Cato Uticensis' (whose authority I would much more have reverenced), but it was the former, in truth a bitter

punisher of faults (but else a man that had never well sacrificed to the Graces:? he misliked and cried out against all Greek learning, and yet, being eighty years old, began to learn it, belike fearing that Pluto’ understood not Latin). Indeed, the Roman laws allowed no person to be carried to the wars but he that was in the soldiers’ roll; and therefore, though Cato misliked his unmustered person, he misliked not his work. And if he had, Scipio Nasica, judged by common consent the best Roman,* loved him. Both the other

9. “I bid him be a fool as much

as he likes”

(adapting Satires 1.1.63). 1. Le., military encampments.

De SS SPINS 2 3. The essential nature of “being” and “first matter”—terms in Scholastic philosophy. 4. Body armor. 5. Le., the example of Alexander the Great alone. Plutarch’s estimate of him is in his Lives and, in his Moral Essays, the two tracts On the Fortune or the Virtue of Alexander. “Motions”: promptings. 6. Even if. 7. Plutarch, Life of Alexander 8, says Alexander (who had Aristotle as his tutor) took the Iliad

with him everywhere.

8. Plutarch, How a Man may Become Aware of His Progress in Virtue 16. Callisthenes, Aristotle’s relative, and both a philosopher and a historian, accompanied Alexander on his expedition to India. 9. The Roman general Fulvius took the poet Ennius (see p. 549, n. 2) with him on a military expedition to Greece. The stern moralist Cato the Elder (234-149 B.c.£.) disapproved. The story was

often repeated by poetry's detractors. 1. Cato of Utica (great-grandson of Cato the Elder), hugely admired as the epitome of Roman Stoic virtue. 2. L.e., he was not a cultured person. (The three

Graces were sister deities who personified grace and beauty.) “Else”: otherwise.

3. God of the underworld (whither Cato, at eighty, was soon bound). To undermine

the authority of

this prestigious enemy of poetry, Sidney does not scruple to employ argumentum ad hominem and mockery (as also with Plato, in the following paragraph). The story of Cato’s late acquisition of Greek is from Plutarch’s Life (2). 4. A different explanation for Cato’s objection to Ennius’s

accompanying

Fulvius:

it was

against

Roman law for an “unmustered” person (i.e., one not formally enrolled as a soldier) to go on a mili-

tary mission. But one cannot logically draw from that fact the conclusion that Cato did not dislike Ennius’s poetry. 5. The Roman Senate so judged him, in 204 B.c.k. (Livy, From the Foundation of the City 29.14).

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Scipio brothers, who had by their virtues no less surnames than of Asia and Afric,° so loved him that they caused his body to be buried in their sepulture. So as Cato’s authority, being but against his person, and that answered with so far greater than himself, is herein of no validity. But now indeed my burden is great; now Plato’s name is laid upon me, whom, I must confess, of all philosophers I have ever esteemed most worthy of reverence, and with good reason: since of all philosophers he is the most poetical.’ Yet if he will defile the fountain out of which his flowing streams have proceeded, let us boldly examine

with what reasons

he did it. First,

truly, a man might maliciously object that Plato, being a philosopher, was a natural enemy of poets. For indeed, after the philosophers had picked out of the sweet mysteries of poetry the right discerning true points of knowledge, they forthwith putting it in method, and making a school-art of that which the poets did only teach by a divine delightfulness, beginning to spurn at their guides, like ungrateful prentices,® were not content to set up shops for themselves, but sought by all means to discredit their masters; which by the force of delight being barred them, the less they could overthrow them, the more they hated them. For indeed, they found for Homer seven cities strave who should have him for their citizen; where many cities banished philosophers as not fit members to live among them.’ For only repeating certain of Euripides’ verses, many Athenians had their lives saved of the Syracusans, where the Athenians themselves thought many philosophers unworthy to live.! Certain poets, as Simonides and Pindar, had so prevailed with Hiero the

First that of a tyrant they made him a just king; where Plato could do so little with Dionysius that he himself of a philosopher was made a slave.2 But who should do thus,’ I confess, should requite the objections made against poets with like cavilations* against philosophers; as likewise one should do that should bid one read Phaedrus or Symposium in Plato, or the discourse of love in Plutarch, and see whether any poet do authorize abominable filthiness, as they do.’ Again, a man might ask out of what commonwealth Plato did banish them: in sooth, thence where he himself alloweth community of women®—so

as belike this banishment grew not for effeminate wantonness, since little should poetical sonnets be hurtful, when a man might have what woman he listed.” But I honor philosophical instructions, and bless the wits which bred them: so as they be not abused, which is likewise stretched to poetry. 6. Scipio Africanus (granted that cognomen as conqueror of Hannibal) and Scipio Asiaticus

(conqueror of the Seleucid emperor Antiochus III, in Asia Minor). Cousins (not brothers) of Scipio Nasica, both were patrons of Ennius. 7. See p. 549. 8. Apprentices. 9. Among the several philosophers banished from their native cities were Empedocles and Protagoras. Cicero's oration on behalf of the poet Archias (8.19) is one of the sources for the

claim that seven cities competed for Homer. 1. Whatever the Athenians may have “thought,” the only philosopher they are known to have executed

is Socrates

(though

the sophist

Pro-

dicus of Ceos was sometimes said to have been executed with him). Plutarch’s Life of Nicias (29) says that many

members

of an Athenian

army

defeated by the army of Syracuse were afterward spared because of the Sicilians’ love for the writ-

ings of the Athenians’ compatriot Euripides. 2. Plato visited the Syracusan tyrant Dionysius I, but fell out with him and, according to legend,

was through his contrivances sold into slavery (from which he was rescued by friends). By contrast, the poets Simonides

(556—468

B.c.£.) and

Pindar enjoyed the patronage of Dionysius’s predecessor Hiero I, whose court was a center of art and literature. 3. Anyone who would argue in this (ad hominem) fashion—as Sidney has, of course, just done (and

proceeds to do again, in the following). 4. Faultfinding. 5. Parts of Plato's dialogues Phaedrus and Symposium, and of Plutarch’s dialogue On Love, exalt

male homosexual love.

6. In Republic 5, Plato has Socrates argue that the ruling class in his ideal commonwealth would share all things, including women, communally. 7. Pleased.

Anis

(DUE PEINS is OAR

Tee shy

|

SiS)

St. Paul himself (who yet, for the credit of poets, twice citeth poets, and one

of them by the name of “their prophet”) setteth a watchword upon philosophy’— indeed upon the abuse. So doth Plato upon the abuse, not upon poetry. Plato found fault that the poets of his time filled the world with wrong opinions of the gods, making light tales of that unspotted essence, and therefore would not have the youth depraved with such opinions.’ Herein may much be said. Let this suffice: the poets did not induce such opinions, but did imitate those opinions already induced. For all the Greek stories can well testify that the very religion of that time stood upon many and many-fashioned gods, not taught so by the poets, but followed according to their nature of imitation. Who list may read in Plutarch the discourses of Isis and Osiris, of the cause why oracles ceased, of the divine providence,! and see whether the theology of that nation stood not upon such dreams, which the poets indeed superstitiously observed— and truly (since they had not the light of Christ) did much better in it than the philosophers, who, shaking off superstition, brought in atheism. Plato, therefore (whose authority I had much rather justly construe than unjustly resist), meant not in general of poets, in those words of which Julius Scaliger saith Qua authoritate barbari quidam atque hispidi abuti velint ad poetas e republica exigendos,* but only meant to drive out those wrong opinions of the Deity (whereof now, without further law,* Christianity hath taken away all the hurtful belief) perchance (as he thought) nourished by the then esteemed poets. And a man need go no further than to Plato himself to know his meaning: who, in his dialogue called Ion, giveth high and rightly divine commendation unto poetry.* So as Plato, banishing the abuse, not the thing; not banishing it, but giving due honor unto it, shall be our patron, and not our adversary. For indeed I had much rather (since truly I may do it) show their mistaking of Plato (under whose lion’s skin they would make an ass-like braying against poesy)? than go about to overthrow his authority; whom the wiser a man is, the more just cause he shall find to have in admiration; especially since he attributeth unto poesy more than myself do,° namely, to be a very inspiring of a divine force, far above man’s wit, as in the forenamed dialogue is apparent. Of the other side, who would show the honors have been by the best sort of judgments granted them, a whole sea of examples would present themselves: Alexanders, Caesars, Scipios, all favorers of poets; Laelius, called the

Roman Socrates, himself a poet, so as part of Heautontimorumenos in Terence was supposed to be made by him,’ and even the Greek Socrates, whom Apollo confirmed to be the only wise man, is said to have spent part of his 8. A word of warning against philosophy (in Colossians 2.8). “Their prophet”: see Titus 1.12. Paul's other citation of poets comes in Acts 17.28. 9. This is Plato’s objection to poetry in Republic 2, and Sidney answers it well. But he entirely ignores the far more profound objection in 10.595—608, where Plato argues that artistic mimesis in general is at the “third remove” (597)

from the true nature of things (being an imitation

of the physical world, which is itself a poor imitation of the realm of the Platonic Forms) and that

poetry in particular “has no serious value or claim to truth” (608).

1. Sidney gives English versions of the titles of

three of Plutarch’s Moral Essays. 2. “Which

authority

uncivilized persons

certain

barbarians

seek to misuse

and

in order to

have poets banned from the state” (Poetics 1.2).

3. Without further ado. 4. In the Ion, Plato argues that poets are divinely inspired. The argument is now regarded as ironic, but in Sidney's day it was taken seriously. 5. Referring to Aesop’s fable of the ass masquerading as a lion. 6. Cf. pp. 550-51, where Sidney, departing from the main trend of 16th-century poetics, avoids claiming that any poetry other than that of the Bible is divinely inspired. 7. Gaius Laelius (2nd century B.C.E.) was an ora-

tor and intellectual much admired by Cicero, who

compared him to Socrates and noted that many people ascribed the plays of Terence in whole or in part to him. In the prologues to Heauton timorumenos (The Self-Tormentor) and The Brothers, Terence himself hints at his debts to Laelius.

576

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SSHeDsNiESy,

old time in putting Aesop’s fables into verses.* And therefore, full evil should it become his scholar Plato to put such words in his master’s mouth against poets. But what need more? Aristotle writes the Art of Poesy; and why, if it should not be written? Plutarch teacheth the use to be gathered of them; and how, if they should not be read? And who reads Plutarch’s either history or philosophy? shall find he trimmeth both their garments with guards! of poesy. But I list not to defend poesy with the help of his underling historiography. Let it suffice to have showed it is a fit soil for praise to dwell upon; and what dispraise may be set upon it is either easily overcome or transformed into just commendation. So that, since the excellencies of it may be so easily and so justly confirmed, and the low-creeping objections so soon trodden down: it not being an art of lies, but of true doctrine;* not of effeminateness, but of notable stir-

ring of courage; not of abusing man’s wit, but of strengthening man’s wit; not banished, but honored by Plato: let us rather plant more laurels for to engarland the poets’ heads (which honor of being laureate, whereas besides them

only triumphant captains were, is a sufficient authority to show the price they ought to be held in) than suffer the ill-savored breath of such wrong-speakers once to blow upon the clear springs of poesy. [POETRY IN ENGLAND| But since I have run so long a career’ in this matter, methinks, before I give my

pen a full stop, it shall be but a little more lost time to inquire why England, the mother of excellent minds, should be grown so hard a stepmother to poets, who certainly in wit* ought to pass all other, since all only proceedeth from their wit, being indeed makers of themselves, not takers of others.> How can I but exclaim

Musa, mihi causas memora, quo numine laeso?® Sweet poesy, that hath anciently had kings, emperors, senators, great captains, such as, besides a thousand others, David, Adrian, Sophocles, Ger-

manicus, not only to favor poets, but to be poets;’ and of our nearer times can present for her patrons a Robert, king of Sicily, the great King Francis of France, King James of Scotland; such cardinals as Bembus

and Bibbiena;

such famous preachers and teachers as Beza and Melanchthon; so learned philosophers as Fracastorius and Scaliger; so great orators as Pontanus and Muretus; so piercing wits as George Buchanan;* so grave counsellors as, 8. According to Plato, Phaedo 60, and Plutarch,

How to Study Poetry 16. Apollo confirmed Socrates to be the wisest of men through his oracle at Delphi. 9. l.e., either Plutarch’s Parallel Lives (of notable Greeks and Romans) or his Moral Essays. 1, Ornamental borders. 2. Teaching. 3. Course.

4. Intellect. 5. Rhetorical theory allowed for a digressio following the refutatio, and Sidney’s lengthy digression—on the very pertinent topic of why English poetry is, in his time, in such poor repute—has itself the form of an oration, comprising a narration, proposition (see later: “the very true cause of our wanting estimation is

want

of desert”:

we

lack esteem

don’t deserve it), division (into “words”), and confirmation.

because “matter”

we and

6. The beginning of the invocation of the Aeneid (1.8): “Tell me, O Muse, the cause: by what offense to the deity?” 7. Four military leaders who wrote poetry: the biblical King David, the Roman emperor Hadrian, the tragedian Sophocles (who in 440 B.c.E. was appointed a general for Athens in its war against Samos), and Germanicus (15 B.c.&.-19 c.F.), com-

mander of the Roman troops against the Germans. 8. The kings are Robert Il of Anjou, Francis I, and probably James I. The cardinals are Pietro Bembo (who figures in Castiglione’s Courtier: see pp: 176, 179ff.) and Bernardo Dovizi, cardinal of

Bibbiena, in Italy. The preachers are Théodore

THE

DEPENSE

Oi

iPOrS ¥

|

SHAE

beside many, but before all, that Hopital of France,’ than whom (I think) that

realm never brought forth a more accomplished judgment, more firmly builded upon virtue: I say these, with numbers of others, not only to read others’ poesies, but to poetize for others’ reading—that poesy, thus embraced in all other places, should only find in our time a hard welcome in England, I think the very earth lamenteth it, and therefore decketh our soil with fewer laurels than it was accustomed.' For heretofore poets have in England also flourished, and, which is to be noted, even in those times when the trumpet of Mars did sound loudest.? And now that an overfaint quietness should seem to strew the house? for poets, they are almost in as good reputation as the mountebanks

at Venice.* Truly even that, as of the one side it giveth

great praise to poesy, which like Venus (but to better purpose) had rather be troubled in the net with Mars than enjoy the homely quiet of Vulcan: so serves it for a piece of a reason why they are less grateful® to idle England, which now can scarce endure the pain of a pen. Upon this necessarily followeth that base men with servile wits undertake it, who think it enough if they can be rewarded of the printer. And so as Epaminondas is said with the honor of his virtue to have made an office, by

his exercising it, which before was contemptible, to become highly respected; so these men, no more but setting their names to it, by their own disgracefulness disgrace the most graceful poesy. For now, as if all the Muses were got with child to bring forth bastard poets, without any commission they do post over the banks of Helicon,® till they make the readers more weary than post-horses;? while in the meantime they Queis meliore luto finxit praecordia Titan!

are better content to suppress the outflowings of their wit than, by publishing them, to be accounted knights of the same order. But | that, before ever I durst aspire unto the dignity, am admitted into the company of the paperblurrers, do find the very true cause of our wanting estimation is want of desert—taking upon us to be poets in despite of Pallas.’ Now, wherein we want desert were a thankworthy labor to express; but if I

knew, I should have mended myself. But I, as I never desired the title, so have I neglected the means to come by it. Only, overmastered by some thoughts, I yielded an inky tribute unto them. Marry, they that delight in poesy itself de Béze and Philip Melanchthon, both professors of Greek who became important Protestant reformers. The philosophers are Girolamo Fracastorio, author of medical and scientific works (some of them in verse) and Scaliger (see p. 551,

n. 2). The orators are Giovanni Pontano, diplomat and writer, and

Marc-Antoine

Muret,

humanist

scholar and poet. Buchanan was an eminent Scottish humanist and Latin poet. 9, Michel de I’H6pital, chancellor of France. 1. Le., England now has fewer poets (whose success is traditionally rewarded with a laurel crown) than in the past.

2. L.e., when England had its most notable wars. 3. Le., prepare a welcome, by strewing fresh rushes (a standard floor covering).

4. Venice's notorious quick-tongued hucksters of quack medicines and other trifles. For a wonderful simulation, see Ben Jonson's Volpone 2.2 (p. 1018). 5. Venus was caught in adultery with Mars by her

husband, the blacksmith god Vulcan, who concealed a net under the bed and then hoisted the

amorous couple into the air in flagrante delicto (Odyssey 8.266—366). 6. Agreeable.

7. The Theban

general

Epaminondas

(d. 362

B.C.E.) conferred dignity on the office of telearch

(chief street cleaner). 8. Like many others, Sidney confuses Mount Helicon (sacred to the Muses) with Hippocrene—a fountain on it said to have been created by the hoof of Pegasus, the winged horse of poetic flight. “Post”: ride fast. 9, Used in relay by postal couriers or kept for hire, thus often ridden to exhaustion. 1. “Whose

hearts

the Titan

[Prometheus]

has

made of better clay” (Juvenal, Satires 14.35). 2. L.e., without wisdom (of which Pallas Athena is goddess). “Wanting estimation”: lacking esteem.

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SSDI NEY

should seek to know what they do, and how they do; and especially look themselves in an unflattering glass of reason, if they be inclinable unto it. For poesy must not be drawn by the ears; it must be gently led, or rather it must lead—which was partly the cause that made the ancient-learned affirm it was a divine gift, and no human skill: since all other knowledges lie ready for any that hath strength of wit. A poet no industry can make, if his own genius be not carried into it; and therefore it is an old proverb, orator fit, poeta nascitur.* Yet confess I always that as the fertilest ground must be manured, so must the highest-flying wit have a Daedalus* to guide him. That Daedalus, they say, both in this and in other, hath three wings to bear itself up into the air of due commendation:

that is, art, imitation, and exercise.’ But these, nei-

ther artificial rules nor imitative patterns, we much cumber ourselves withal.

Exercise indeed we do, but that very forebackwardly: for where we should exercise to know, we exercise as having known; and so is our brain delivered of much matter which never was begotten by knowledge. For there being two principal parts, matter to be expressed by words and words to express the matter, in neither we use art or imitation rightly. Our matter is quodlibet® indeed, though wrongly performing Ovid's verse, Quicquid conabor dicere, versus erit;’ never marshaling it into any assured rank, that almost the readers cannot tell where to find themselves. Chaucer, undoubtedly, did excellently in his Troilus and Criseyde; of whom, truly, | know not whether to marvel more, either that he in that misty time

could see so clearly, or that we in this clear age go so stumblingly after him. Yet had he great wants,* fit to be forgiven in so reverent an antiquity. | account the Mirror of Magistrates meetly? furnished of beautiful parts, and in the earl of Surrey’s lyrics many things tasting of a noble birth, and worthy of a noble mind. The Shepherds’ Calendar' hath much poetry in his eclogues, indeed worthy the reading, if Ibe not deceived. (That same framing of his style to an old rustic language I dare not allow, since neither Theocritus in Greek, Virgil in Latin, nor Sannazzaro in Italian did affect it.2) Besides these I do not

remember to have seen but few (to speak boldly) printed that have poetical sinews in them; for proof whereof, let but most of the verses be put in prose, and then ask the meaning, and it will be found that one verse did but beget another, without

ordering at the first what should

be at the last; which

becomes a confused mass of words, with a tingling’ sound of rhyme, barely accompanied with reason. Our tragedies and comedies (not without cause cried out against), observing rules neither of honest civility nor skillful poetry—excepting Gorboduc4 3. An orator is made; a poet is born. 4. In classical mythology, a great artificer, who invented wings of wax

for himself and his son,

Icarus. Ignoring his father’s instructions, Icarus flew too close to the sun, melted his wings, and fell into the sea. “Manured”: cultivated. 5. The tripartite prescription for mastery advocated especially in rhetorical theory. 6. What you will. 7. “Whatever I try to say will turn to verse” (Ovid ) Tristia 4.10.26).

8. Deficiencies. 9. Properly.

The

Mirror for Magistrates

(first

edition 1559) was a large collection of poems on

the downfall of princes and other notables. 1. Spenser's first major work (1579), a set of pastoral poems (“eclogues”) dedicated to Sidney (see p. 241 and n. 2). For Surrey, see p. 133.

2. Le., none

of the great models

for pastoral

poetry offered a precedent for Spenser's archaic diction. This is, however, not strictly true of Theocritus and Virgil. 3. Tinkling. 4. Senecan tragedy by Thomas Sackville and Thomas Norton (1561): the earliest English tragedy written in blank verse. “Honest civility’: decency.

RES

ERENSE

VOR HeO Ese,

|

379

(again, I say, of those that I have seen), which notwithstanding as it is full

of stately speeches and well-sounding phrases, climbing to the height of Seneca’s style,’ and as full of notable morality, which it doth most delightfully teach, and so obtain the very end of poesy, yet in truth it is very defectuous in the circumstances, which grieveth me, because it might not remain as an exact model of all tragedies. For it is faulty both in place and time, the two necessary companions of all corporal actions. For where the stage should always represent but one place, and the uttermost time presupposed in it should be, both by Aristotle’s precept and common reason, but one day, there is both many days, and many places, inartificially® imagined. But if it be so in Gorboduc, how much more in all the rest, where you shall

have Asia of the one side and Afric of the other, and so many other underkingdoms that the player, when he cometh in, must ever begin with telling where he is, or else the tale will not be conceived? Now you shall have three ladies walk to gather flowers: and then we must believe the stage to be a garden. By and by we hear news of shipwreck in the same place: and then we are to blame if we accept it not for a rock. Upon the back of that comes out a hideous monster with fire and smoke: and then the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave. While in the meantime two armies fly in, represented with four swords and bucklers: and then what hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field?’ Now, of time they are much more liberal: for ordinary it is that two young princes fall in love; after many traverses,* she is got with child, delivered of a fair boy; he is lost, groweth a man, falls in love, and is ready to get another child; and all this in two hours’ space: which, how absurd it is in sense, even

sense may imagine, and art hath taught, and all ancient examples justified— and at this day, the ordinary players in Italy will not err in. Yet will some bring in an example of Eunuchus in Terence, that containeth matter of two days,° yet far short of twenty years. True it is, and so was it to be played in two days, and so fitted to the time it set forth. And though Plautus have in one place done amiss,! let us hit with him, and not miss with him. But they will say: How then shall we set forth a story which containeth both many places and many times? And do they not know that a tragedy is tied to the laws of poesy, and not of history; not bound to follow the story, but having liberty either to feign a quite new matter or to frame the history to the most tragical conveniency? Again, many things may be told which cannot be showed, if they know the difference betwixt reporting and representing. As, for example, I may speak (though I am here) of Peru, and in speech digress from that to the description of Calicut; but in action I cannot represent it without Pacolet’s horse;? and so was the manner the ancients took, by some

Nuntius? to recount things done in former time or other place. Lastly, if they 5. The highly declamatory and relentlessly moralizing Roman tragedies of Seneca (ca. 4 B.C.E.— 65 C.E.) were models of the grand tragic style in the Renaissance. 6. Inartistically. Sidney here voices the Renaissance commonplace (erroneously derived from Aristotle’s Poetics) that tragedies should observe

7. Battle. “Bucklers”: shields. 8. Difficulties, mishaps. 9. In point of fact, the action of Terence’s Eunuch takes place in a single day. Sidney is probably confusing it with another of Terence’s plays, The Self-Tormentor.

the “three unities”: of time (one day), place (one

time.

locale), and action

(one plot). Aristotle insisted

only on unity of action (though he does observe that most tragedies take place within a twentyfour-hour span: Poetics 5).

1. Plautus’s Captives does not fulfill the unity of

2. A flying horse in the French romance Valentine and Orson

(1489). Calicut (Kozhikode)

seaport on the southwest coast of India. 3. Messenger.

is a

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will represent a history, they must not (as Horace saith) begin ab ovo;* but they must come to the principal point of that one action which they will represent. By example this will be best expressed. I have a story of young Polydorus,’ delivered for safety’s sake, with great riches, by his father Priam to Polymnestor, king of Thrace, in the Trojan war time; he, after some years, hearing the overthrow of Priam, for to make the treasure his own, murdereth the

child; the body of the child is taken up by Hecuba;° she, the same day, findeth a sleight’ to be revenged most cruelly of the tyrant. Where now would one of our tragedy writers begin, but with the delivery of the child? Then should he sail over into Thrace, and so spend I know not how many years, and travel numbers of places. But where doth Euripides? Even with the finding of the body, leaving the rest to be told by the spirit of Polydorus. This need no further to be enlarged; the dullest wit may conceive it. But besides these gross absurdities, how all their plays be neither right tragedies nor right comedies, mingling kings and clowns, not because the matter so carrieth it, but thrust in the clown by head and shoulders to play a part in majestical matters with neither decency nor discretion,® so as neither the admiration and commiseration, nor the right sportfulness,’ is by their mongrel tragi-comedy obtained. I know Apuleius! did somewhat so, but that is a thing recounted with space of time, not represented in one moment; and I know the ancients have one or two examples of tragi-comedies, as Plautus hath Amphitruo;* but, if we mark them well, we shall find that they never, or

very daintily, match hornpipes? and funerals. So falleth it out that, having indeed no right comedy, in that comical part of our tragedy, we have nothing but scurrility, unworthy of any chaste ears, or some extreme show of doltishness, indeed fit to lift up a loud laughter, and nothing else: where the whole tract of a comedy should be full of delight, as the tragedy should be still maintained in a well-raised admiration. But our comedians think there is no delight without laughter; which is very wrong, for though laughter may come with delight, yet cometh it not of delight, as though delight should be the cause of laughter; but well may one thing breed both together. Nay, rather in themselves they have, as it were, a kind of contrariety: for delight we scarcely do but in things that have a conveniency* to ourselves or to the general nature; laughter almost ever cometh of things most disproportioned to ourselves and nature. Delight hath a joy in it, either permanent or present. Laughter hath only a scornful tickling. For example, we are ravished with delight to see a fair woman, and yet are far from being moved to laughter; we laugh at deformed creatures, wherein certainly we cannot delight. We delight in good chances, we laugh at mischances: we delight to hear the happiness of our friends, or country, at which he were worthy to be laughed at that would laugh; we shall, contrarily, laugh sometimes to find a matter quite mistaken and go down the hill against the

4. From the beginning; literally, from the egg (Art of Poetry, line 147). 5. In Euripides’ Hecuba. 6. Priam and Hecuba were king and queen of Troy. 7. Trick, contrivance. 8. Sidney regards English tragicomedy as violating the rhetorical precept of decorum. But earlier (p. 564) he had, in principle, approved of mixed genres. “Decency”: appropriateness,

9. Effect proper to comedy, as “admiration and commiseration” are proper to tragedy. 1. Roman author of The Golden Ass, a satirical romance (2nd century C.E.).

2. Amphitruo is tragicomic only in that it contains gods and heroes; otherwise it is pure comedy. 3. Merry tunes for country dances. “Mark them well”: inspect them carefully. “Daintily”: reluctantly.

4. Agreement, correspondence.

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bias’ in the mouth of some such men—as for the respect of them one shall be heartily sorry, he cannot choose but laugh, and so is rather pained than delighted with laughter. Yet deny I not but that they may go well together. For as in Alexander's picture well set out we delight without laughter, and in twenty mad antics we laugh without delight; so in Hercules, painted with his great beard and furious countenance, in a woman's attire, spinning at Omphale’s commandment,° it breedeth both delight and laughter: for the representing of so strange a power in love procureth delight, and the scornfulness of the action stirreth laughter. But I speak to this purpose, that all the end of the comical part be not upon such scornful matters as stir laughter only, but, mixed with it, that delightful teaching which is the end of poesy. And the great fault even in that point of laughter, and forbidden plainly by Aristotle,’ is that they stir laughter in sinful things, which are rather execrable than ridiculous, or in miserable, which are rather to be pitied than scorned. For what is it to make folks gape at a wretched beggar and a beggarly clown; or, against law of hospitality, to jest at strangers, because they speak not English so well as we do? What do we learn, since it is certain

Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, Quam quod ridiculos homines facit?*

But rather, a busy loving courtier and a heartless threatening Thraso;’ a selfwise-seeming schoolmaster; an awry-transformed traveler. These, if we saw

walk in stage names, which we play naturally,' therein were delightful laughter, and teaching delightfulness—as in the other, the tragedies of Buchanan? do justly bring forth a divine admiration. But I have lavished out too many words of this play matter. I do it because, as they are excelling parts of poesy, so is there none so much used in England, and none can be more pitifully abused; which, like an unmannerly daughter showing a bad education, causeth her mother Poesy’s honesty’ to be called in question.

Other sort of poetry almost have we none, but that lyrical kind of songs and sonnets: which, Lord, if He gave us so good minds, how well it might be

employed, and with how heavenly fruit, both private and public, in singing the praises of the immortal beauty: the immortal goodness of that God who giveth us hands to write and wits to conceive; of which we might well want words, but never matter; of which we could turn our eyes to nothing, but we

should ever have new-budding occasions. But truly many of such writings

as come under the banner of unresistible love, if | were a mistress, would

never persuade me they were in love: so coldly they apply fiery speeches, as men that had rather read lovers’ writings—and so caught up certain swelling phrases which hang together like a man that once told my father that the wind was at northwest and by south, because he would be sure to name winds enough—than that in truth they feel those passions, which easily (as 5. End in unexpected

disaster, as when

in the

game of bowls a slope deflects the ball from its course, or “bias.” 6. Hercules, infatuated with Omphale, queen of Lydia, submitted to be dressed as her female slave

and to spin wool. 7. In Poetics 5.

8. “Unfortunate poverty has in itself no thing

harder to bear than that it makes men ridiculous”

(Juvenal, Satires 3.152—53). 9. See p. 565 and n. 8. 1. In real life. 2. George

Buchanan

(1506-1582),

Scottish humanist and poet.

3. Virtue.

influential

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I think) may be bewrayed by that same forcibleness or energia* (as the Greeks call it) of the writer. But let this be a sufficient though short note,

that we miss the right use of the material point? of poesy. Now, for the outside of it, which is words, or (as I may term it) diction, it

is even well worse. So is that honey-flowing matron Eloquence apparelled, or rather disguised, in a courtesan-like painted affectation: one time, with so

far-fet words that may seem monsters but must seem strangers to any poor Englishman; another time, with coursing of a letter, as if they were bound to follow the method of a dictionary; another time, with figures and flowers extremely winter-starved.° But I would this fault were only peculiar to versifiers, and had not as large possession among prose-printers; and (which is to be marveled) among many scholars; and (which is to be pitied) among some preachers. Truly I could wish, if at least I might be so bold to wish a thing beyond the reach of my capacity, the diligent imitators of Tully and Demosthenes (most worthy to be imitated) did not so much keep Nizolian paperbooks of their figures and phrases,’ as by attentive translation (as it were)

devour them whole, and make them wholly theirs: for now they cast sugar and spice upon every dish that is served to the table—like those Indians, not content to wear earrings at the fit and natural place of the ears, but they will thrust jewels through their nose and lips, because they will be sure to be fine.® Tully, when he was to drive out Catiline, as it were with a thunderbolt

of eloquence, often used the figure of repetition, as Vivit. Vivit? Imo in senatum venit, etc.? Indeed, inflamed with a well-grounded rage, he would have his words (as it were) double out of his mouth, and so do that artificially

which we see men in choler' do naturally. And we, having noted the grace of those words, hale them in sometimes to a familiar epistle, when it were too

too much choler to be choleric. How well store of similiter cadences doth sound with the gravity of the pulpit,? I would but invoke Demosthenes’ soul to tell, who with a rare daintiness* useth them. Truly they have made me think of the sophister that with too much subtlety would prove two eggs three, and though he might be counted a sophister, had none for his labor.4 So these men bringing in such a kind of eloquence, well may they obtain an opinion of a seeming finesse,’ but persuade few—which should be the end of their finesse. Now for similitudes, in certain printed discourses, I think all herbarists, all stories of beasts, fowls, and fishes are rifled up, that they

come in multitudes to wait upon any of our conceits;° which certainly is as 4. A rhetorical term, glossed by Sidney as he introduces it. “Bewrayed”: manifested. 5. Le., the (subject) matter. 6. Sidney criticizes three abuses: exotic (“far-fet”: far-fetched) borrowings from other languages; excessive alliteration (“coursing of a letter”); and sterile (“winter-starved”) figurative language. 7. Commonplace books of phrases from classical thetoricians (among whom Cicero [“Tully”] and Demosthenes were supreme), named after the Italian scholar Marius Nizolius, who in 1535 had published Thesaurus Ciceronianus. In place of the slavish imitation that was all too common, Sidney advocates true absorption of the great classical models (“attentive translation”: studious transference, appropriation) and imitation with discretion. 8. Sidney had read or heard about New World indigenes whose piercings seemed “unnatural” to him (i.e., different from European practices).

9. In Cicero's famous first oration against the Roman senator Catiline—who had attempted a coup against the Republic—he marvels that Catiline still “lives. Lives? Even comes into the Senate.”

1. Anger. “Artificially”: through art. 2. Again Sidney expresses disapproval of the affectations of elaborate rhetoric—in this case, the excessive use (“store”: abundance) of similar endings (‘“similiter cadences’), including similar

rhythms or rhyme at the ends of successive phrases. 3. Good taste. 4. A familiar story of a logic chopper (“sophister”) who proved two eggs to be three—here is one, and there are two, and one and two make three— and who for his pains was awarded the third egg. 5. Good taste. 6. Conceptions; here perhaps also with the sense of elaborate sustained comparisons.

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absurd a surfeit to the ears as is possible.’ For the force of a similitude not being to prove anything to a contrary disputer, but only to explain to a willing hearer, when that is done, the rest is a most tedious prattling, rather over-swaying the memory from the purpose whereto they were applied, than any whit informing the judgment, already either satisfied or by similitudes not to be satisfied. For my part, I do not doubt, when Antonius and Crassus, the great forefathers of Cicero in eloquence, the one (as Cicero testifieth of them)® pretended not to know art, the other not to set by it, because with a

plain sensibleness they might win credit? of popular ears (which credit is the nearest step to persuasion, which persuasion is the chief mark! of oratory), I do not doubt (I say) but that they used these knacks very sparingly; which who doth generally use, any man may see doth dance to his own music, and so be noted by the audience more careful to speak curiously* than to speak truly. Undoubtedly (at least to my opinion undoubtedly), I have found in divers smally learned courtiers a more sound style than in some professors of learning; of which I can guess no other cause, but that the courtier, following that which by practice he findeth fittest to nature, therein (though he know it not) doth according to art, though not by art: where the other, using art to show art, and not to hide art? (as in these cases he should do), flieth

from nature, and indeed abuseth art. But what? Methinks I deserve to be pounded? for straying from poetry to oratory. But both have such an affinity in the wordish consideration,’ that I think this digression will make my meaning receive the fuller understanding: which is not to take upon me to teach poets how they should do, but only, finding myself sick among the rest, to show some one or two spots of the common infection grown among the most part of writers, that, acknowledging ourselves somewhat awry, we may bend to the right use both of matter and manner: whereto our language giveth us great occasion, being indeed capable of any excellent exercising of it. |know some will say it is a mingled language.® And why not so much the better, taking the best of both the other? Another will say it wanteth grammar. Nay truly, it hath that praise, that it wants not grammar:’ for grammar it might have, but it needs it not, being so easy in itself, and so void of those cumbersome differences of cases, genders,

moods, and tenses, which I think was a piece of the Tower of Babylon's curse,® that a man should be put to school to learn his mother tongue. But for the uttering sweetly and properly the conceits of the mind (which is the end of speech), that hath it equally with any other tongue in the world; and is

particularly happy in compositions’ of two or three words together, near the 7. Sidney mocks the “euphuistic” style associated with John Lyly’s popular romance Euphues (1578; see p. 537), whose affectations included an abun-

dance of similes drawn from (often false) natural history. 8. On the Orator 2.1. Lucius Crassus (d. 91 B.C.E.) and Marcus Antonius (d. 87 B.c.E.—the grandfather of Cleopatra’s Mark Antony) are speakers in this dialogue and are lauded by Cicero in the prefaces to the second and third of its three books. No).

Credence, trust.

1. Aim.

2. Elaborately. 3. Alluding to the proverb “It is art to hide art.” 4. Impounded, like a stray animal.

5. In matters of diction. 6. Mingling, especially, words from French and Latin with those of Anglo-Saxon origin. 7. “Wanteth grammar... wants not grammar’: lacks grammar...does not require grammar. English, of course, has grammar. But its grammar was not, at the time, elaborately systematized and studied, like Greek and Latin grammar. 8. Elizabethans identified Babel—where, accord-

ing to Genesis 11.1—9, God stymied human overreaching by instituting a confounding variety of languages—with Babylon. 9. Compounds. (Sidney’s use of them is one of the most distinctive and attractive features of his style.) “Happy”: fortunate.

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Greek, far beyond the Latin, which is one of the greatest beauties can be in a language. Now of versifying there are two sorts, the one ancient, the other modern:

the ancient marked the quantity of each syllable, and according to that framed his verse; the modern, observing only number! (with some regard of the accent), the chief life of it standeth in that like sounding of the words,

which we call rhyme. Whether of these be the more excellent, would bear many speeches: the ancient (no doubt) more fit for music, both words and time observing quantity, and more fit lively to express diverse passions, by the low or lofty sound of the well-weighed syllable; the latter likewise, with his rhyme, striketh a certain music to the ear, and, in fine,” since it doth

delight, though by another way, it obtains the same purpose: there being in either sweetness, and wanting? in neither majesty. Truly the English, before any vulgar* language I know, is fit for both sorts. For, for the ancient, the Italian is so full of vowels that it must ever be cumbered with elisions; the Dutch®

so, of the other side, with consonants, that they cannot yield the sweet sliding, fit for a verse; the French in his whole language hath not one word that hath his accent in the last syllable saving two, called antepenultima; and

little more hath the Spanish, and therefore very gracelessly may they use dactyls.° The English is subject to none of these defects. Now for the rhyme,’ though we do not observe quantity, yet we observe the accent very precisely, which other languages either cannot do, or will not do so absolutely. That caesura, or breathing place in the midst of the verse, neither Italian nor Spanish have, the French and we never almost fail of. Lastly, even the very rhyme itself, the Italian cannot put it in the last syllable, by the French named the masculine rhyme, but still® in the next to the last, which the French call the female, or the next before that, which the Italians term sdrucciola. The

example of the former is buono: suono, of the sdrucciola is femina: semina. The French, of the other side, hath both the male, as bon: son, and the

female, as plaise: taise, but the sdrucciola he hath not: where the English hath all three, as due: true, father: rather, motion: potion®>—with much more

which might be said, but that already I find the triflingness of this discourse is much too much enlarged. [CONCLUSION]

So that since the ever-praiseworthy Poesy is full of virtue-breeding delightfulness, and void of no gift that ought to be in the noble name of learning;'! since the blames laid against it are either false or feeble; since the cause why it is not esteemed in England is the fault of poet-apes,? not poets; since, lastly, our tongue is most fit to honor poesy, and to be honored by poesy; 1. Classical “quantity” meant the length or duration of syllables. Moderns simply count the “number” of syllables. 2. In conclusion. 3. Lacking. 4. Vernacular. 5. The term referred to the languages both of the Low Countries and of Germany. 6. See (as for caesura, below) the Literary Terminology appendix to this volume. 7. l.e., rhymed verse as opposed to “ancient” (i.e., quantitative) verse.

Because

of the accent

pat-

terns in French and Spanish, those languages cannot make good use of this poetic foot. 8. Always. 9. Pronounced with three syllables, accented on the first. 1. This final paragraph constitutes the peroratio of Sidney's judicial oration: though it includes a brief recapitulation of arguments, the main function of the peroration is, like that of the exordium, to work

on the audience's feelings, leaving it well-disposed toward the speaker and the speaker's client. 2. False poets, who mimic (“ape”) the real ones.

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I conjure you all that have had the evil luck to read this ink-wasting toy of mine, even in the name of the nine Muses, no more to scorn the sacred mys-

teries of poesy; no more to laugh at the name of poets, as though they were next inheritors to fools; no more to jest at the reverent title of a rhymer; but to believe, with Aristotle, that they were the ancient treasurers of the Grecians’ divinity; to believe, with Bembus, that they were first bringers-in of all civility; to believe, with Scaliger, that no philosopher's precepts can sooner make you an honest man than the reading of Virgil; to believe, with Clauserus, the translator of Cornutus, that it pleased the heavenly Deity, by Hesiod? and Homer, under the veil of fables, to give us all knowledge, logic, rhetoric, philosophy natural and moral, and quid non?;* to believe, with me, that there are many mysteries contained in poetry, which of purpose were written darkly, lest by profane wits it should be abused; to believe, with Landino,’

that they are so beloved of the gods that whatsoever they write proceeds of a divine fury;° lastly, to believe themselves, when they tell you they will make you immortal by their verses. Thus doing, your name shall flourish in the printers’ shops; thus doing, you shall be of kin to many a poetical preface; thus doing, you shall be most fair, most rich, most wise, most all, you shall dwell upon superlatives; thus doing, though you be libertino patre natus,’ you shall suddenly grow Herculea proles,®

Si quid mea carmina possunt;? thus doing, your soul shall be placed with Dante's Beatrice, or Virgil’s Anchises.! But if (fie of such a but) you be born so near the dull-making cataract of Nilus that you cannot hear the planet-like? music of poetry; if you have so earth-creeping a mind that it cannot lift itself up to look to the sky of poetry, or rather, by a certain rustical disdain, will become such a mome as to be a Momus? of poetry; then, though I will not wish unto you the ass’s ears of Midas,’ nor to be driven by a poet’s verses, as Bubonax’ was, to hang himself, nor to be rhymed to death, as is said to be done in Ireland;°

yet thus much curse I must send you, in the behalf of all poets, that while you live, you live in love, and never get favor for lacking skill of a sonnet;’ and, when you die, your memory die from the earth for want of an epitaph. 1595

ca. 1579

3. Early Greek poet whose Theogony recounts myths of the birth and warfare of the gods and the origin of the world. For Aristotle, cf. Metaphysics 3.4.12. For Bembus

(Pietro Bembo), see

p- 576, 2nd n. 8. For Scaliger, see p. 551, n. 2. Conrad Clauser was a German scholar who translated a Greek treatise by Cornutus, a Stoic pedagogue of Nero’s time. 4. What not? 5. Christoforo Landino, Florentine humanist who

developed this argument in his edition of Dante's Divine Comedy (1481). 6. Divinely inspired frenzy. 7. Born of a freed-slave father (Horace, Satires 1.6.6).

8. Offspring of Hercules. 9. If my songs are of any avail (Aeneid 9.446). 1. Ie., in Paradise with Dante’s beloved or in the

Elysian Fields with Aeneas’s honored father. 2. Resembling the music of the spheres, most beautiful of all music. According to Cicero (Dream

of Scipio 5), the noise of the waterfalls in the upper Nile deafened those who lived nearby. 3. God of ridicule, son of Night; hence, a critic. “Mome”: dunce. 4. He was given ass’s ears because he preferred Pan’s music 11.146-79).

to Apollo’s

(Ovid,

Metamorphoses

5. Bupalus, an ancient Greek sculptor who, according to an apocryphal story, hanged himself when his works were satirized by the poet Hipponax. Sidney fuses the two names. 6. Lrish bards were thought to be able to cause death with their rhymed charms. 7. Because you are unable to write a sonnet.

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Astrophil and Stella Sidney was a jealous protector of his privacy. “I assure you before God,” he had written once in an angry letter to his father’s private secretary, Molyneux, “that if ever I know you do so much as read any letter I write to my father, without his commandment or my consent, I will thrust my dagger into you. And trust to it, for I speak it in earnest.” Yet in Astrophil and Stella he seems to hold up a mirror to every nuance of his emotional being. For its original coterie audience, Sidney’s sonnet sequence must have been an elaborate game of literary masks, psychological risk taking, and open secrets. The loosely linked succession of 108 sonnets and eleven songs, with its dazzling display of technical virtuosity, provides tantalizing glimpses of identifiable characters and, still more, a sustained and remarkably intimate portrait of the poet’s inner life. Much biographical speculation has centered on Sidney’s ambiguous relationship with Penelope Devereux, the supposed original of Stella. A marriage between the two had been proposed in 1576 and was talked about for some years, but in 1581 she married Lord Robert Rich, and two years later Sidney also married. (At their high social rank, marriages were negotiated in the interests of the powerful families involved, not of the individuals.) Some of the sonnets contain sly puns on the name Rich, and it seems likely that there are autobiographical elements in the shadowy narrative sketched by the work. At the same time, however, the “plot” of the sequence, full of trials, setbacks, much suffering on the part of the lover and occasional encouragement on the part of the lady, is highly conventional, derived from Petrarch and his many Italian, French, and Spanish imitators. Poets in this tradition undertook to produce an anatomy of love, displaying its shifting and often contradictory states: hope and despair, tenderness and bitterness, exultation and modesty, bodily desire and spiritual transcendence. Petrarch had deployed a series of ingenious metaphors to describe these states, but by Sidney’s time the metaphors—love as a freezing fire, the beloved’s glance as an arrow striking the lover’s heart, and so forth—had through endless repetition become familiar and predictable, less a revelation than a role. Sidney, in the role of Astrophil, protests

that he uses no standard conventional phrases, that his verse is original and comes from his heart. This protest is itself conventional, and yet Sidney manages to infuse his sonnets with an extraordinary vigor and freshness. Certain of the sonnets have, within their narrow fourteen-line bounds, the force of the drama: “Fly, fly, my friends, | have my death-wound, fly” or “What, have I thus betrayed my liberty?” Others, in their grappling with insistent desire, have the probing, psychological resonance of private confession: “With what sharp checks I in myself am shent” or “Who will in fairest book of Nature know.” Still others ask crucial questions about the whole project of self-representation: “Stella oft sees the very face of woe.” Virtually all of them manifest the exceptional energia—forcibleness—that Sidney, in The Defense of Poesy, says is the key ingredient of good love poetry.

From Astrophil and Stella ]!

Loving in truth, and fain® in verse my love to show,

That the dear She might take some pleasure of my pain, Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain, 1. One of six sonnets in the sequence written in hexameters.

desirous

ASD RORHTECAN DSi

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I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain, Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain. But words came halting forth, wanting Invention’s stay;? Invention, Nature’s child, fled step-dame Study’s blows, And others’ feet still? seemed but strangers in my way. continually Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes, Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, “Fool,” said my Muse to me, “look in thy heart and write.” 2

Not at first sight, nor with a dribbed? shot Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will bleed, But known worth did in mine? of time proceed, Till by degrees it had full conquest got. wi)

10

I saw and liked, I liked but lovéd not, I loved, but straight did not? what Love decreed; At length to Love’s decrees, I, forced, agreed,

Yet with repining® at so partial® lot. Now even that footstep of lost liberty Is gone, and now like slave-born Muscovite,° I call it praise to suffer tyranny; And now employ the remnant of my wit° To make myself believe that all is well, While with a feeling skill I paint my hell.

It is most true that eyes are formed to serve i.e., The inward light,° and that the heavenly part Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,

complaining / unfair

mind

reason, understanding

Rebels to Nature, strive for their own smart.°

5

pain

It is most true, what we call Cupid’s dart An image is, which for ourselves we carve; And, fools, adore in temple of our heart,

10

Till that good god make church and churchman starve.’ True, that true beauty virtue is indeed, Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,”

shadow

Which elements with mortal mixture® breed;

True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,

2. Le., lacking the support of Invention, his words moved haltingly. 3. Ineffectual or at random. 4. Tunnel dug to undermine a besieged fortress. 5. Did not immediately do. 6. Inhabitant of Muscovy, Russian principality ruled from Moscow; 16th-century travel books describe Muscovites as contented slaves. 7. Die (not necessarily of hunger). The conces-

sions made in the argument are to Neoplatonic

and Christian doctrines opposed to romantic love. Neoplatonic theory held that physical beauty is only a shadow of inner virtue, which is at one with the true, transcendent, and immortal Idea of

Beauty. For a highly influential exposition of this

theory, see the excerpts from Book 4 of Castiglione’s The Courtier, pp. 176, 179ff. 8. Physical beauty is a mixture of the four elements (earth, air, water, and fire) and is therefore

mortal.

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And should in soul up to our country move: True, and yet true that I must Stella love. 6

Some lovers speak, when they their muses entertain, Of hopes begot by fear, of wot° not what desires, Of force of heavenly beams infusing hellish pain,

know

Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing fires.”

Some one his song in Jove and Jove’s strange tales attires, Bordered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden rain;!

Another humbler wit to shepherd’s pipe retires, Yet hiding royal blood full oft in rural vein.? To some a sweetest plaint a sweetest style affords,’ While tears pour out his ink, and sighs breathe out his words, His paper pale Despair, and Pain his pen doth move. I can speak what I feel, and feel as much as they, But think that all the map of my state I display, When trembling voice brings forth that I do Stella love. é When Nature made her chief work, Stella’s eyes,

In color black why wrapped she beams so bright? Would she in beamy? black, like painter wise,

10

Frame daintiest luster, mixed of shades and light? Or did she else that sober hue devise, In object® best to knit and strength® our sight, with Lest if no veil those brave® gleams did disguise, They sun-like should more dazzle than delight? Or would she her miraculous power show, That whereas black seems beauty’s contrary, She even in black doth make all beauties flow?

radiant

purpose / strengthen

Both so and thus: she, minding® Love should be

Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed,°

splendid

remembering

funeral garb

To honor all their deaths, who for her bleed.

e) Queen Virtue’s court, which some call Stella’s face,

Prepared by Nature’s chiefest furniture,’ Hath his front® built of alablaster® pure; Gold is the covering of that stately place. 5

i.e., Stella’s forehead / alabaster

The door, by which sometimes comes forth her grace,

Red porphir’ is, which lock of pearl makes sure;

Whose porches rich (which name of cheeks endure), 9. Conventional Petrarchan oxymorons. 1. Jove courted Europa in the shape of a bull; Leda, as a swan; and Danaé, as a golden shower. “Bordered”: the emendation “Broadred” (embroi-

dered) has been proposed. 2. l.e., in pastoral allegory. By convention, a pastoral poet pipes his songs on an oaten or reed

pipe. 3. Parodying the overuse of the word sweet in love complaints, with allusion to the very musical dolce stil nuovo (sweet new style) associated with

Dante and his Italian contemporaries. 4. The best materials Nature furnishes. 5. Porphyry, an ornamental red or purple stone.

ASTROPHIL

10

AND

STELLA

|

589

Marble mixed red and white do interlace. The windows now through which this heavenly guest Looks o’er the world, and can find nothing such Which dare claim from those lights the name of best, Of touch® they are that without touch doth touch, Which Cupid’s self from Beauty’s mine did draw: Of touch they are, and poor I am their straw. 10 Reason, in faith thou art well served, that still

Wouldst brabbling® be with sense and love in me: I rather wished thee climb the Muses’ hill,’ 5

quarreling

Or reach the fruit of Nature’s choicest tree,® Or seek heaven's course, or heaven’s inside to see.

Why shouldst thou toil our thorny soil to till? Leave sense, and those which sense’s objects be;

10

Deal thou with powers of thoughts, leave love to will. But thou wouldst needs fight both with love and sense, With sword of wit,° giving wounds of dispraise, intellect Till downright blows did foil thy cunning fence:° swordplay For soon as they strake° thee with Stella’s rays, struck Reason thou kneel’dst, and offeredst straight° to prove _ straightaway By reason good, good reason her to love. 1S

You that do search for every purling® spring

murmuring

Which from the ribs of old Parnassus? flows,

s

And every flower,' not sweet perhaps, which grows Near therabout, into your poesy” wring; You that do dictionary’s method bring Into your rhymes, running in rattling rows;

10

You that poor Petrarch’s long-deceaséd woes naturalized ingenuity With new-born sighs and denizened wit° do sing: far-fetched such be helps far-fet° those ways, wrong You take As do bewray a want of inward touch,?* And sure at length stolen goods do come to light. But if (both for your love and skill) your name You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of Fame, Stella behold, and then begin to indite.°

compose, write

16

In nature apt to like when I did see Beauties, which were of many carats fine,

6. Glossy black stone (lignite orjet) able to attract light bodies such as straw by static electricity. 7, Mount Helicon in Greece, sacred to the Nine

Muses—a symbol of poetic inspiration. 8. The Tree of Knowledge.

9. Mountain near Delphi in Greece, sacred to the Muses. 1. Also, poetic figures (“flowers of rhetoric”).

2. Also, a nosegay (posy). 3. Reveal a lack of innate talent.

590

|

SIR

PHILIP

SIDNEY

My boiling sprites® did thither soon incline,

spirits

And, Love, I thought that I was full of thee:

But finding not those restless flames in me, Which others said did make their souls to pine, I thought those babes of some pin’s hurt did whine, By my love judging what love’s pain might be. But while I thus with this young lion’ played, Mine eyes (shall I say cursed or blessed) beheld Stella; now she is named, need more be said?

In her sight I a lesson new have spelled: I now have learned love right, and learned even so,

As who by being poisoned doth poison know. 18

10

rebukes / shamed With what sharp checks° I in myself am shent,° When into Reason’s audit I do go, And byjust counts myself a bankrout® know bankrupt Of all those goods, which heaven to me hath lent: Unable quite to pay even Nature’s rent, Which unto it by birthright I do owe; And which is worse, no good excuse can show, But that my wealth I have most idly spent. My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys,’ My wit° doth strive those passions to defend, intellect Which for reward spoil it with vain annoys.° troubles I see my course to lose myself doth bend:° turn I see and yet no greater sorrow take, Than that I lose no more for Stella’s sake.

20

10

Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death-wound, fly; See there that boy, that murth’ring® boy, I say, murdering Who like a thief hid in dark bush doth lie Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey. So tyran® he no fitter place could spy, tyrant Nor so fair level° in so secret stay,° aim / stopping place As that sweet black°® which veils the heav’nly eye; i.e., pupil There himself with his shot he close® doth lay. secretly Poor passenger,’ pass now thereby I did, passerby And stayed, pleased with the prospect of the place, While that black hue from me the bad guest hid: But straight I saw motions of lightning grace, And then descried® the glist’ring® of his dart;° saw / glittering /arrow But ere I could fly thence, it pierced my heart.

4. Ina popular fable, a shepherd raised a lion cub that, while young, was a pet for his children but

when grown destroyed all his flocks. 5. Trifles; i.e., these poems.

AS TRO

Pinte

eAINID eS MEMEA

|

591

21

Your words, my friend (right healthful caustics),° blame My young mind marred, whom Love doth windlass? so, That mine own writings like bad servants show My wits quick in vain thoughts, in virtue lame; That Plato I read for nought, but if? he tame Such coltish gyres,’ that to my birth I owe Nobler desires, least° else that friendly foe,

ensnare

unless lest

Great Expectation, wear a train of shame.

For since mad March great promise made of me, If now the May of my years much decline, What can be hoped my harvest time will be? Sure you say well; your wisdom’s golden mine Dig deep with learning’s spade; now tell me this: Hath this world ought? so fair as Stella is?

aught, anything

Zt Because I oft, in dark abstracted guise,

Seem most alone in greatest company, With dearth of words, or answers quite awry, To them that would make speech of speech arise, They deem, and of their doom? the rumor flies, That poison foul of bubbling pride doth lie So in my swelling breast that only I° Fawn on myself, and others do despise.

judgment

that I do nothing but

Yet pride, I think, doth not my soul possess,

Which looks too oft in his unflatt’ring glass;°

mirror

But one worse fault, ambition, I confess, That makes me oft my best friends overpass,°

pass by, ignore

Unseen, unheard, while thought to highest place Bends all his powers, even unto Stella’s grace.°

beauty, elegance; favor

28 You that with allegory’s curious frame® Of others’ children changelings use® to make, With me those pains for God’s sake do not take: I list not® dig so deep for brazen fame.

intricate contrivance are accustomed

I don’t care to

When I say Stella, I do mean the same

Princess of beauty for whose only sake The reins of love I love, though never slake,°

slack

And joy therein, though nations count it shame. I beg no subject to use eloquence,” Nor in hid ways to guide philosophy;

6. Caustic substances for burning away diseased tissue.

7. Wild circles, like those of a young horse; there is a probable reference to Plato’s story of the char-

ioteer Reason reining in the horses of Passion (Phaedrus 254).

8. Le., I don’t ask for a topic simply as an excuse to display my rhetorical skills.

oi)

|

STROP

HVEMP

4S UDIN EY

Look at my hands for no such quintessence,’

But know that I in pure simplicity Breathe out the flames which burn within my heart, Love only reading unto me this art. el With how sad steps,

10

O Moon, thou climb’st the skies,

How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer® his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case; I read it in thy looks: thy languished grace, To me‘ that feel the like, thy state descries.° Then even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?° Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?!

Cupid

reveals lack of intelligence

334

I might (unhappy word), O me, I might, And then would not, or could not, see my bliss: Till now, wrapped in a most infernal night, I find how heav'nly day, wretch, I did miss. Heart, rent® thyself, thou dost thyself but right: No lovely Paris made thy Helen his;? No force, no fraud robbed thee of thy delight; Nor Fortune of thy fortune author is; But to myself myself did give the blow, 10

While too much wit® (forsooth®) so troubled me,

rend, tear

cleverness / truly

That I respects for both our sakes must show:4 And yet could not by rising morn foresee How fair a day was near. O punished eyes, That I had been more foolish, or more wise!

34 Come, let me write. “And to what end?” To ease A burdened heart. “How can words ease, which are

The glasses® of thy daily vexing care?” Oft cruel fights well pictured forth do please.

mirrors

9. The mysterious “fifth element” of matter (supplementary to earth, air, fire, and water), which alchemists labored to extract. 1. Le., is the lady’s ingratitude considered virtue

scheme to betroth Sidney to Penelope Devereux in 1576, when she was thirteen, he twentyone. :

in heaven

attractive rival, as Menelaus lost Helen of Troy

(as here)? Also, is the lover’s virtue

(fidelity) considered distasteful in heaven (as here)? 2. The sonnet seems to allude to the abortive

3. L.e., Astrophil

did not lose Stella to a more

to Paris. 4. l.e., he thought he was acting in the best interests of both.

AST ROP

5

AIL

TAN DY STE REA

“Art® not ashamed to publish thy disease?”

|

299

are you

Nay, that may breed my fame, it is so rare.

10

“But will not wise men think thy words fond ware?”? _foolish trinkets Then be they close,’ and so none shall displease. “What idler thing, than speak and not be hard?”® heard What harder thing than smart,° and not to speak? feel pain Peace, foolish wit;° with wit my wit is marred.

Thus while I write I doubt® to write, and wreak°

reason; intellect

_hesitate; fear /avenge

My harms on Ink’s poor loss: perhaps some find Stella’s great powers, that so confuse my mind.

oH My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell, My tongue doth itch, my thoughts in labor be: Listen then, lordings, with good ear to me,

s

For of my life I must a riddle tell. Towards Aurora’s court a nymph doth dwell,® Rich in all beauties which man’s eye can see, Beauties so far from reach of words, that we Abase her praise, saying she doth excel: Rich in the treasure of deserved renown,

10

Rich in the riches of a royal heart, Rich in those gifts which give th’ eternal crown; Who though most rich in these and every part Which make the patents’ of true worldly bliss, Hath no misfortune, but that Rich she is.

39

5

Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting place® of wit,° the balm of woe, The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner's release, Th’ indifferent® judge between the high and low, With shield of proof? shield me from out the prease® Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:

mind impartial _press, throng

O make in me those civil wars to cease;

I will good tribute pay if thou do so. 10

Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, Achamber deaf to noise and blind to light,

A rosy garland, and a weary head: And if these things, as being thine by right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me Livelier® than elsewhere Stella’s image see.

5. Let them (my words) be kept private.

6. Aurora (the dawn) has her court in the east. Penelope

Devereux Rich, the original of Stella,

dwelt in Essex, one of the eastern counties. Sid-

ney puns on her married name throughout this sonnet.

more lifelike

7. Grants, titles to possession.

8. Resting place on a journey.

9. Proven strength.

1. The offer of gifts to Morpheus, god of sleep, is

a poetic convention. A likely source is Chaucer's Book of the Duchess, lines 240—69.

594

|

SRSPARV

EP SSD NEM

4]

Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance Guided so well that I obtained the prize, Both by the judgment of the English eyes And of some sent from that sweet enemy France; Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance;? Townfolks my strength; a daintier® judge applies more discerning His praise to sleight,* which from good use® doth rise; experience Some lucky wits impute it but to chance; Others, because of both sides I do take

My blood from them who did excel in this,’ Think Nature me a man of arms did make. How far they shoot awry! The true cause is, Stella looked on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.° 45

Stella oft sees the very face of woe Painted in my beclouded stormy face, But cannot skill to° pity my disgrace,° is unable Not though thereof the cause herself she know.’ Yet hearing late a fable which did show, Of lovers never known, a grievous case, Pity thereof gate® in her breast such place That, from that sea derived, tears’ spring did flow. Alas, if fancy,° drawn by imaged things, Though false, yet with free scope more grace® doth breed Than servant’s wrack, where new doubts honor brings,® Then think, my dear, that you in me do read Of lover's ruin some sad tragedy: I am not I; pity the tale of me.

to / misfortune

got fantasy favor

47

Wn

What, have I thus betrayed my liberty? Can those black beams such burning marks° engrave In my free side? or am I born a slave, Whose neck becomes? such yoke of tyranny? Or want I sense to feel my misery?

brands of slavery is suited to

Or sprite,° disdain of such disdain to have?

Who for long faith, though daily help I crave, May get no alms but scorn of beggary.? 2. Sidney took part in several jousting tournaments between 1579 and 1585 with French spectators present, but the one in May 1581 was

devised specifically to entertain French commissioners.

3. L.e., put forward as the reason for my triumph. 4. Skill, dexterity. 5. Sidney's father and grandfather and his maternal uncles, the earls of Leicester and Warwick,

spirit

were frequent participants in tournaments.

6. Course in a tournament. 7. L.e., even though she knows she herself is the cause ofit. 8. Le., than

the ruin of her lover (“servant”),

caused by the new scruples (“doubts”) her honor brings up. 9. I.e., scorn for [my] begging,

ASTROPHIL

AND

STELLA

|

SS)

Virtue awake! Beauty but beauty is; I may, I must, I can, I will, I do Leave following that which it is gain to miss.

10

Let her go. Soft, but here she comes. Go to,!

Unkind, I love you not. O me, that eye Doth make my heart give to my tongue the lie.°

contradict my tongue

49

I on my horse, and Love on me doth try Our horsemanships, while by strange work I prove A horseman to my horse, a horse to Love; And now man’s wrongs in me, poor beast, descry.° The reins wherewith my rider doth me tie Are humbled thoughts, which bit of reverence move, Curbed in with fear, but with gilt boss° above

10

Of hope, which makes it seem fair to the eye. The wand? is will; thou, Fancy, saddle art,? Girt fast by Memory; and while I spur My horse, he spurs with sharp desire my heart; He sits me fast,° however I do stir,

discover

gold stud whip

tightly

And now hath made me to his hand so right That in the manage? myself takes delight. 52 A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,

wa

While each pretends? that Stella must be his: Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this, Since they do wear his badge,* most firmly prove, But Virtue thus that title doth disprove:

claims

That Stella (O dear name) that Stella is

That virtuous soul, sure heir of heavenly bliss; Not this fair outside, which our hearts doth move. And therefore, though her beauty and her grace Be Love’s indeed, in Stella’s self he may By no pretence claim any manner° place. Well, Love, since this demur® our suit? doth stay,°

Let Virtue have that Stella’s self; yet thus, That Virtue but° that body grant to us.

kind of objection / stop only

53

a7)

In martial sports I had my cunning? tried, And yet to break more staves did me address; While with the people’s shouts, | must confess, Youth, luck, and praise even filled my veins with pride. When Cupid having me his slave descried®

. An emphatic expression, like “I tell you.” . Le., you, Fancy (imagination), are the saddle. . Training or handling of a horse. — Wr

skill lances

discerned

4. Device or livery worn to identify someone's (here, Cupid’s) servants. 5. Courtship, in addition to the legal meaning.

SENS)

|

SIR

PHILIP

SIDNEY

In Mars’s livery,° prancing in the press,°

throng

“What now, Sir Fool,” said he, “I would no less;’

Look here, I say.” I looked, and Stella spied, Who hard by°® made a window send forth light. 10

nearby

My heart then quaked, then dazzled were mine eyes,

One hand forgot to rule,° th’ other to fight. Nor trumpets’ sound I heard, nor friendly cries; My foe came on, and beat the air for me,*® Till that her blush taught me my shame to see.

govern the horse

54

wa

Because I breathe not love to every one, Nor do not use set colors for to wear,’ Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair,! Nor give each speech a full point? of a groan, The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan Of them who in their lips Love’s standard® bear, “What, he?” say they of me, “now I dare swear

ensign

He cannot love; no, no, let him alone!” 10

And think so still, so* Stella know my mind. Profess indeed I do not Cupid’s art; But you, fair maids, at length this true shall find,

That his right badge* is but worn in the heart: Dumb swans, not chatt’ring pies,° do lovers prove;? They love indeed, who quake to say they love.

magpies

56

Fie, school of Patience, fie, your lesson is Far far too long to learn it without book:°

i.e., by memory

What, a whole week without one piece of look,° a7]

And think I should not your large precepts miss?° When I might read those letters fair of bliss, Which in her face teach virtue, I could brook?

Somewhat thy leaden counsels, which I took As of a friend that meant not much amiss. But now that I, alas, do want? her sight, 10

bear

lack

What, dost thou think that I can ever take

In thy cold stuff a phlegmatic® delight? No, Patience, if thou wilt my good, then make Her come and hear with patience my desire, And then with patience bid me bear my fire.

6. Cf. sonnet 52, lines 1-4, and note. Dressed in armor for the tournament, Astrophil is wearing the “livery” of Mars, god of war. 7. L.e., |want no less [service from you]. 8. Struck the empty air instead of me. 9. Am

forget

not accustomed to wear colors associated

with a particular woman.

sluggish

1. Le., lovelocks: long, flowing locks characteristic of amorous courtiers. 2. Final punctuation, period. 3. Go on thinking so, provided only that. 4. True badge, livery. 5. Prove to be (true) lovers.

6. Without the briefest glimpse of her.

ASTROPHIUE

AND

ISTIEELA

|

5107

61 Oft with true sighs, oft with uncalléd tears, Now with slow words, now with dumb eloquence

I Stella’s eyes assail, invade her ears; wa

But this at last is her sweet-breathed defense: That who indeed infelt affection bears,

So captives to his saint both soul and sense That, wholly hers, all selfness® he forbears; Thence his desires he learns, his life’s course thence. Now since her chaste mind hates this love in me, 10

concern with self

With chastened mind I straight must shew° that she Shall quickly me from what she hates remove. O Doctor’ Cupid, thou for me reply, Driven else® to grant by angel’s sophistry That

I love not, without

I leave to love.°

show

otherwise unless I stop loving

69 O joy, too high for my low style to show, O bliss, fit for a nobler state than me! Envy, put out thine eyes, least°® thou do see yw

lest

What oceans of delight in me do flow. My friend, that oft saw through all masks my woe, Come, come, and let me pour myself on thee: Gone is the winter of my misery; My spring appears; O see what here doth grow. For Stella hath, with words where faith doth shine,

10

Of her high heart given me the monarchy: I, I, O I may say that she is mine.

And though she give but thus conditionly This realm of bliss, while virtuous course I take,

No kings be crowned but® they some covenants* make.

unless

Hl

Who will in fairest book of Nature know How Virtue may best lodged in beauty be, Let him but learn of Love to read in thee, Stella, those fair lines, which true goodness show. There shall he find all vices’ overthrow,

10

Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty Of reason, from whose light those night-birds” fly; That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so. And not content to be Perfection’s heir Thyself, dost strive all minds that way to move, Who mark? in thee what is in thee most fair.’

7. In the sense of eminently learned scholar. 8. Solemn coronation oaths taken by English monarchs, promising to protect the laws and the people.

perceive

9, The owl, for example, was an emblem of various vices. 1. Le., her virtue, which is fairer even than her

beauty.

598

|

SIRE

AEP

SSD INIEN

So while thy beauty draws the heart to love, As fast® thy Virtue bends that love to good; “But, ah,” Desire still cries, “give me some food.”

at the same rate

Ws

Ww

Desire, though thou my old companion art, And oft so clings to my pure Love that I One from the other scarcely can descry,° While each doth blow the fire of my heart, Now from thy fellowship I needs must part: Venus is taught with Dian’s* wings to fly; I must no more in thy sweet passions lie; Virtue’s gold now must head my Cupid’s dart.

distinguish

Service and honor, wonder with delight,

Fear to offend, will worthy to appear,’ Care shining in mine eyes, faith in my sprite:° These things are left me by my only dear.

spirit

But thou, Desire, because thou wouldst have all,

Now banished art. But yet alas how shall? 74

7)

I never drank of Aganippe well,’ Nor ever did in shade of Tempe’ sit; And Muses scorn with vulgar® brains to dwell; Poor layman I, for sacred rites unfit. Some do | hear of poets’ Fury® tell, But God wot,° wot not what they mean by it; And this I swear by blackest brook of hell,° I am no pick-purse of another’s wit. How falls it then that with so smooth an ease My thoughts I speak, and what I speak doth flow In verse, and that my verse best wits doth please? Guess we the cause. “What, is it thus?” Fie no. “Or so?” Much less. “How then?” Sure thus it is: My lips are sweet, inspired with Stella’s kiss.’

common

inspiration

knows

81

O kiss, which dost those ruddy gems impart, Or° gems, or fruits of new-found Paradise,

either

Breathing all bliss and sweet’ning to the heart, Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise! O kiss, which souls, even souls, together ties

2. Diana, goddess of the moon and patron of chastity. Venus, goddess of beauty and love, mother of Cupid. 3. The phrase can mean either “the wish to appear worthy” or “desire that is worthy to appear

Greece, sacred to the Muses. 5. Valley beside Mount Olympus, sacred to Apollo, the god of poetry. 6. The most binding of all oaths were those

li.e., not shameful].”

7. Akiss he stole from Stella when he caught her

4. The fountain at the foot of Mount Helicon in

sworn by the river Styx.

napping (Song 2),

AS TRO PHESANID

STE LEA

|

yey)

By links of Love, and only Nature’s art,

10

How fain® would I paint thee to all men’s eyes, Or of thy gifts at least shade out® some part. But she forbids, with blushing words she says She builds her fame on higher-seated praise. But my heart burns, I cannot silent be. Then since (dear life) you fain would have me peace,*

gladly sketch

And I, mad with delight, want wit? to cease,

Stop you my mouth with still still kissing me.

Fourth Song' Only joy, now here you are, Fit to hear and ease my care; Let my whispering voice obtain Sweet reward for sharpest pain: wn

Take me to thee, and thee to me. “No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.”

10

Night hath closed all in her cloak, Twinkling stars love-thoughts provoke, Danger hence good care doth keep, Jealousy itself doth sleep: Take me to thee, and thee to me.

“No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.” Better place no wit can find, Cupid’s yoke to loose or bind; is

These sweet flowers on fine bed, too,

Us in their best language woo: Take me to thee, and thee to me.

“No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.” This small light the moon bestows 20

Serves thy beams but to disclose,

So to raise my hap® more high; Fear not else, none can us spy:

good fortune

Take me to thee, and thee to me. “No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.”

25

That you heard was but a mouse, Dumb sleep holdeth all the house; Yet asleep methinks they say, “Young folks, take time while you may.” Take me to thee, and thee to me.

30

“No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.”

Niggard®° Time threats, if we miss This large offer of our bliss, 8. You want me to be silent. 9. Lack the mental faculties. 1. Like Petrarch, Sidney intersperses songs (eleven

stingy

of them, in various verse forms) in his sequence. Some of them incorporate Stella’s voice. This song appears between sonnets 85 and 86.

600

|

SIR

PHILIP

SIDNEY

Long stay° ere he grant the same; Sweet, then, while each thing doth frame 35

wait ° ’

serve

Take me to thee, and thee to me. “No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.” Your fair mother is abed,

Candles out, and curtains spread; She thinks you do letters write: 40

Write, but first let me indite:° Take me to thee, and thee to me. “No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.”

dictate

Sweet, alas, why strive you thus? 45

Concord better fitteth us. Leave to Mars the force of hands;

Your power in your beauty stands: Take me to thee, and thee to me. “No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.”

50

Woe to me, and do you swear Me to hate? But I forbear.° Curséd be my destines? all, That brought me so high to fall: Soon with my death I will please thee.

desist

fates

“No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.”

87 When I was forced from Stella ever dear,

wn

10

Stella, food of my thoughts, heart of my heart, Stella, whose eyes make all my tempests clear, By iron laws of duty to depart, Alas, | found that she with me did smart:° I saw that tears did in her eyes appear; I saw that sighs her sweetest lips did part, And her sad words my sadded sense did hear.

suffer

For me, I wept to see pearls scattered so, I sighed her sighs, and wailéd for her woe,

Yet swam in joy, such love in her was seen. Thus while th’ effect most bitter was to me,

And nothing than the cause more sweet could be, I had been® vexed, if vexed I had not been.

i.e., would have been

892

Now that of absence the most irksome night With darkest shade doth overcome my day, Since Stella's eyes, wont® to give me my day, Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night,

2. A sonnet with only two rhyme words, night and day.

accustomed

ASTROPHIL

10

AND

STELLA

Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed® night, The night, as tedious, woos th’ approach of day; Tired with the dusty toils of busy day, Languished with horrors of the silent night, Suffering the evils both of the day and night, While no night is more dark than is my day, Nor no day hath less quiet than my night, With such bad mixture of my night and day That, living thus in blackest winter night, I feel the flames of hottest summer day.

|

601

long-delayed

oy

Stella, while now by Honor’s cruel might I am from? you, light of my life, mis-led, And that fair you, my sun, thus overspread

away from

With absence’ veil, I live in Sorrow’s night,

10

If this dark place yet shew,° like candlelight, Some beauty’s piece,* as amber-colored head, Milk hands, rose cheeks, or lips more sweet, more red, Or seeing jets,* black, but in blackness bright, They please I do confess, they please mine eyes; But why? because of you they models be; Models such be wood-globes of glist’ring® skies.’

show

glittering

Dear, therefore be not jealous over me,

If you hear that they seem my heart to move: Not them, O no, but you in them I love.

94

Grief, find the words; for thou hast made my brain So dark with misty vapors which arise earth / inward-turned From out thy heavy mold,° that in-bent® eyes Can scarce discern the shape of mine own pain. Do thou, then (for thou canst), do thou complain experiences For® my poor soul, which now that sickness tries° Which even to sense, sense of itself denies,’

10

Though harbingers® of Death lodge there his train. complaint, lamentation Or if thy love of plaint® yet mine forbears,” As of a caitiff worthy so to die,

/well-founded Yet wail thyself,° and wail with causeful® tears, for yourself That though in wretchedness thy life doth lie, Yet grow’st more wretched than thy nature bears, By being placed in such a wretch as I.

3, Some beauties in other women.

4. L.e., jet-black eyes. 5. Wooden globes of the heavens, with painted constellations and planets.

6. “Complain / For”: lament on behalf of.

7. I.e., his soul, sick unto death, is incapable of

expression, cut off from the use of the senses. 8. Those sent in advance to find lodgings for a royal retinue (“train”).

9. Nonetheless declines to make mine.

602

SIR

PHILIP

SIDNEY

Eleventh Song' “Who is it that this dark night Underneath my window plaineth?”” It is one who from thy sight Being (ah) exiled, disdaineth

Every other, vulgar® light.

common

“Why, alas, and are you he?

Be not yet those fancies changed?” Dear, when you find change in me, Though from me you be estrangéd, Let my change to ruin be. “Well, in absence this will die; Leave® to see, and leave to wonder.”

cedase

Absence sure will help, if I Can learn how myself to sunder From what in my heart doth lie. “But time will these thoughts remove: Time doth work what no man knoweth.” Time doth as the subject prove;* With time still° th’ affection groweth In the faithful turtledove.

25

“What if you new beauties see; Will not they stir new affection?” I will think they pictures be, Image-like of saint’s perfection, Poorly counterfeiting thee.

30

“But your reason’s purest light, Bids you leave such minds to nourish.” Dear, do reason no such spite: Never doth thy beauty flourish More than in my reason’s sight.

35

“But the wrongs love bears will make Love at length leave undertaking.” No, the more fools it do shake, In a ground of so firm making, Deeper still they drive the stake.

ever

“Peace, I think that some give ear: Come no more, lest I get anger.” ® Bliss, I will my bliss forbear, 1. This last song, a dialogue between Astrophil and Stella, is located between sonnets 104 and 105.

2. Complains (in song) of his love woes. 3. Things change in time according to their

natures. 4. Stop indulging such thoughts. 5. The meaning is either “incur anger” or, perhaps, “become angry’—in any case, a threat designed to make Astrophil go away.

ASTROPHIL

40

AND

STELLA

|

603

Fearing, sweet, you to endanger, But my soul shall harbor there. “Well, begone, begone I say,

4s

Lest that Argus” eyes perceive you.” O unjustest Fortune's sway,’ Which can make me thus to leave you, And from louts to run away.

power

106

O absent presence, Stella is not here; False flattering Hope, that with so fair a face deceived me Bare me in hand,’ that in this orphan place Stella, I say my Stella, should appear. countenance; food What say’st thou now? Where is that dainty cheer® case? famished their Thou told’st mine eyes should help But thou art gone, now that self-felt disgrace Dost make me most to wish thy comfort near. But here I do store® of fair ladies meet,

10

Who may with charm of conversation sweet Make in my heavy mold® new thoughts to grow: Sure they prevail as much with me, as he

abundance

earth

That bade his friend, but then new-maimed, to be

Merry with him, and not think of his woe. 108’

wa

When Sorrow (using mine own fire’s might) Melts down his lead into my boiling breast, Through that dark furnace to my heart oppressed There shines a joy from thee, my only light; But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight, And my young soul flutters to thee, his nest, Most rude Despair, my daily unbidden guest, Clips straight® my wings, straight wraps me in his night, — immediately And makes me then bow down my head and say,

10

“Ah, what doth Phoebus’? gold that wretch avail,

Whom iron doors do keep from use of day?” So strangely (alas) thy works in me prevail, That in my woes for thee thou art my joy, And in my joys for thee my only annoy.°

1582?

6. The hundred-eyed monster set by Juno to guard Io, a mistress of Jupiter whom Juno had transformed into a cow.

god of the sun

trouble, pain 1591, 1598

7. In many sonnet sequences, as here, the final poem brings no resolution.

MARY (SIDNEY) HERBERT, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE 1562-1621

hen her brother, the celebrated courtier and author Philip Sidney, died, in 1586, Mary Sidney, the countess of Pembroke, became the custodian not only of his writings but also of his last name. Though her marriage in 1577 to Henry Herbert, the second earl of Pembroke, represented a great social advance for her family—her offspring would no longer be members of the gentry but rather would be among the nation’s tiny hereditary nobility—yet throughout her life the countess of Pembroke held onto her identity as a Sidney. She had good reason to do so. The Sidneys were celebrated for their generous support of poets, clergymen, alchemists, naturalists, scientists, and musicians. The Pembroke country estate, Wilton, quickly became a gathering place for thinkers who enjoyed the countess’s patronage and shared her staunch Protestant convictions and her literary interests. Books, pamphlets, and scores of poems were dedicated to her in the 1590s and thereafter, as well as to her brother Robert (whose country house,

Penshurst, is praised in a well-known poem by Ben Jonson). Nicholas Breton and Samuel Daniel in particular benefited from her support, as did her niece, goddaughter, and frequent companion, Mary Wroth. In one of the dedicatory poems to Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum, Aemilia Lanyer praises Mary Sidney not only for her generosity toward poets but also for those “works that are more deep and more profound.” These include her translation of Robert Garnier’s neoclassical French tragedy Antonius and a translation of the religious tract A Discourse of Life and Death by the French Protestant Philippe de Mornay. Her translation of Petrarch’s Triumph of Death was the first in English to maintain the original terza rima (a particularly challenging rhyme scheme for an English versifier). Although translation was considered an especially appropriate genre for women to work in, it is a mistake to assume that Mary Sidney’s efforts as a poet are merely derivative: Elizabethans understood that translation offered the opportunity not only for the display of linguistic and technical skills but also for the indirect expression of personal and political concerns. Mary Sidney also expressed these concerns more directly: among her original poems was a powerful elegy for her brother Philip and a short pastoral entertainment for Queen Elizabeth. Mary Sidney was best known for having prepared a composite edition of Philip Sidney’s Arcadia and for contributing the larger number (107) of the verse translations of the 150 biblical psalms that her brother had begun. Her very free renderings re-create the psalms as English poems, using an amazing variety of stanzaic and metrical patterns and some strikingly effective images. Widely circulated in manuscript, this influential collection was an important bridge between the many metrical paraphrases of psalms in this period and the works of the great religious lyric poets of the seventeenth century, especially George Herbert. Donne’s poem Upon the Translation ofthe Psalms by Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke His Sister testifies to that importance: “They tell us why, and teach us how to sing.”*

For Mary Sidney’s elegy on Sir Philip Sidney, her translation of Psalm 58, and the King James version of the psalms printed here, see the NAEL Archive. 604

Bible

605

Psalm 52 Tyrant, why swell’st thou thus,

Of mischief vaunting? Since help from God to us Is never wanting. v7)

Lewd? lies thy tongue contrives, Loud lies it soundeth; Sharper than sharpest knives With lies it woundeth. Falsehood thy wit® approves, All truth rejected:

vile

mind

Thy will all vices loves,

Virtue neglected. Not words from cursed thee, But gulfs°® are poured; Gulfs wherein daily be

abysses, yawning chasms

Good men devoured.

Think’st thou to bear it° so?

bear it off, triumph

God shall displace thee; God shall thee overthrow, Crush thee, deface® thee.

destroy

The just shall fearing see These fearful chances,

And laughing shoot at thee With scornful glances. tw 7)

Lo, lo, the wretched wight,°

creature

Who, God disdaining, His mischief made his might,

His guard his gaining.” I as an olive tree 30

Still green shall flourish: God’s house the soil shall be

My roots to nourish.

My trust on his true love Truly attending,

Shall never thence remove,

Never see ending. Thee will I honor still, Lord, for this justice; There fix my hopes I will Where thy saints’ trust is.

riches

606

|

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(SIDNEY)

HERBERT

Thy saints trust in thy name, Therein they joy them: Protected by the same, Nought® can annoy® them.

nothing / harm

Psalm 119: O! Oh, what a lantern, what a lamp of light Is thy pure Word to me To clear my paths and guide my goings right! I sware,° and swear again,

5

Thou? justly dost ordain.

10

is

205

swore

I of the statutes will observer be,

The heavy weights of grief oppress me sore:° Lord, raise me by thy Word, As thou to me didst promise heretofore. And this unforcéd praise I for an off’ring bring, accept, O Lord, And show to me thy ways.

which thou sorely, severely

What if my life lie naked* in my hand, To every chance exposed? Should I forget what thou dost me command? No, no, I will not stray From thy edicts, though round about enclosed With snares the wicked lay. Thy testimonies, as mine heritage, I have retainéd still, And unto them my heart’s delight engage— My heart which still doth bend, And only bend to do what thou dost will, And do it to the end.

Psalm 139 O Lord, in me there lieth nought But to thy search revealed lies: For when I sit 2

Chou

i ears. Be markest it;

1. The 176 lines of Psalm 119 are divided into twenty-two sections of eight verses each, with the sections headed by, and their initial verses beginning with, successive letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Mary Sidney adopts the analogous

. you note it

procedure in English and also uses a different stanzaic form for each of the twenty-two sections. 2. Le., exposed to danger.

PSALM

139

|

607

No less thou notest when I rise; Yea, closest

closet? of my

thought

most secret private chamber

Hath open windows to thine eyes. Thou walkest with me when I walk;

When to my bed for rest I go, I find thee there, And everywhere:

Not youngest thought in me doth grow, No, not one word I cast® to talk

resolve

But yet unuttered thou dost know. If forth | march, thou goest before,

If back I turn, thou com’st behind: So forth nor back Thy guard I lack, Nay, on me too thy hand I find. Well I thy wisdom may adore, But never reach with earthy mind. To shun thy notice, leave thine eye, O whither might I take my way? To starry sphere? Thy throne is there. To dead men’s undelightsome stay?° There is thy walk, and there to lie Unknown’ in vain I should assay.°

place (to thee) / attempt

O sun, whom light nor flight can match,

Suppose thy lightful flightful wings Thou lend to me, And I could flee

As far as thee the evning brings: Even led to west he would me catch, Nor should I lurk? with western things.

40

hide

Do thou thy best, O secret night, In sable veil to cover me: Thy sable veil Shall vainly fail; With day unmasked my night shall be, For night is day and darkness light, O father of all lights, to thee.

45

Each inmost piece in me is thine: While yet I in my mother dwelt, All that me clad From thee I had. Thou in my frame? hast strangely dealt: Needs in my praise thy works must shine, So inly them my thoughts have felt.

form

608

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(SIDNEY)

HERBERT

Thou, how my back was beam-wise laid, And raft’ring of my ribs, dost know; Know’st every point Of bone and joint, How to this whole these parts did grow, va wi

In brave® embroid’ry fair arrayed,

splendid

Though wrought in shop both dark and low. Nay, fashionless, ere form I took,

60

70

Thy all and more beholding eye My shapeless shape Could not escape: All these, with times appointed by,' Ere one had being, in the book Of thy foresight enrolled did lie. My God, how I these studies prize, That do thy hidden workings show! Whose sum is such No sum so much: Nay, summed as° sand they sumless grow. I lie to sleep, from sleep I rise, Yet still® in thought with thee I go.

like

always

My God, if thou but one? wouldst kill, Then straight would leave my further chase? This curséd brood Inured to blood,

Whose graceless taunts at thy disgrace Have aiméd oft, and hating still Would with proud lies thy truth outface.®

80

defy

Hate not I them, who thee do hate? Thine, Lord, I will the censure be.4 Detest I not The cankered knot

Whom | against thee banded see? O Lord, thou know’st in highest rate I hate them all as foes to me.

90

Caw

Search me, my God, and prove my heart, Examine me, and try° my thought; And mark in me If ought® there be That hath with cause their anger wrought. If not (as not) my life’s each part, Lord, safely guide from danger brought.

test

aught, anything

595

1. With

appropriate

1823 times

step of the work of creation). 2.? Only one (wicked man),

indicated

(for each

3.

Then immediately

[the wicked]

would

pursuing me.

4. l.e., Lleave it to you to censure them.

stop

The Wider World thello first captured Desdemona’s “traveler's history,”

attention, he recalls, by telling her his

Wherein of antars [caves] vast and deserts idle,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak—such was my process— And of the cannibals that each other eat, The anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. (1.3.139—44)

The Venetian heiress was not the only person in the period who found such stories thrilling. In the sixteenth century, narratives of adventure, exploration, trade, and reconnaissance proliferated throughout western Europe and circulated widely both in manuscript and in print. The public's interest in them was not entirely new. Shakespeare probably found his more exotic details in Mandeville's Travels, an immensely popular fourteenth-century text still read throughout the Renaissance. Columbus took a copy with him on his first voyage, and even a century later, though skepticism about the book’s wilder claims had begun to grow, Sir Walter Ralegh in what is now Venezuela continued to be on the lookout for “men whose heads / Do grow beneath their shoulders.”* But in the wake of Columbus's epochal encounter and the voyages that followed, there was a flood of new reports about places and peoples whose existence had been hitherto unknown. At stake was far more than idle curiosity. With Muslim powers in control of the key eastern Mediterranean ports and trade routes, Europeans had long been searching for an alternative route to the spices and silks of the East. Columbus believed that he had discovered such a route—he initially thought he had reached islands off the coast of India or China—but disappointment that he had not done so was assuaged, especially after the conquest of the Aztec and Inca Empires, by the enormous quantity of gold, silver, and pearls that the treasure fleets began to carry back to Spain. The major European states strengthened their fleets, supplied them with ordnance, recruited armies and navies, and fiercely competed with one another in laying claim to potentially lucrative overseas territories.

But the New World was not the only site of contest. The Mediterranean had long been the locus of commercial and military struggles, with islands like Sicily, or Cyprus, Malta, and Rhodes particularly vulnerable to attempted invasion by one Africa. North and Turkey of states Muslim the by and another European power Competition existed as well along the coasts of Africa, where access to trade in gold, ivory, and slaves had aroused the greed of merchants and their royal protectors. and Wherever there was the promise of gain—in Russia, Scandinavia, Poland, a such In . agreements trade and elsewhere—there were diplomatic maneuverings dangerous become suddenly could allies traditional scene, constantly shifting rivals; conversely, bitter enemies could forge convenient alliances. at the geoFrom their position of relative isolation—a Protestant island-nation proved themcentury sixteenth the in English he Europe—t of margins graphical competition. selves to be remarkably energetic players in this increasingly global s of enterprise e Portugues and Spanish ng astonishi the equal to Though they failed * For an engraving of these strange men, see below, p. 804. 609

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exploration and conquest, the range of sixteenth-century English naval and overland ventures is extraordinary. In 1496 John Cabot, a Venetian tradesman living in Bristol, was granted a license by Henry VII to sail on a voyage of exploration and the following year, with his son Sebastian, reached northern North America, making landfall on Newfoundland or perhaps Nova Scotia. Anthony Jenkinson, working for the Muscovy Company, met Czar Ivan the Terrible in Russia, traveled from Moscow to Bukhara, and then embarked on a further expedition, to Persia; Sir Martin Frobisher

explored bleak Baffin Island in search of a Northwest Passage to the Orient; Sir John Davis explored the west coast of Greenland and discovered the Falkland Islands off the coast of Argentina; Ralph Fitch made it all the way to Goa and Siam; Sir John Hawkins made large profits for himself and his investors (including the queen) by carrying shiploads of black slaves from West Africa for sale in the Caribbean, Philip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe led an expedition, financed by Sir Walter Ralegh, to Virginia; Ralegh himself ventured up the Orinoco delta in search of the mythical land of El Dorado. In a three-year voyage from 1577 to 1580, Sir Francis Drake circumnavigated the globe on his ship The Golden Hind, laying claim to California on behalf of the queen, and a few years later Drake’s astonishing feat of navigation was repeated by a ship commanded by Thomas Cavendish. Accounts of these and many other exploits were collected by a clergyman, geographer, and tireless promoter of empire, Richard

Hakluyt

(1552?—1616),

and

published as The principal navigations, voiages, traffiques, and discoveries of the English Nation (1589; expanded — three-volume edition 1598-1600).

Hakluyt writes that he

was incited to undertake his huge editorial labors during a stay in France, where he heard “other nations miraculously extolled for their discoveries and notable enterprises by sea, but the English of all others for their sluggish security and continual neglect of the like attempts, either ignominiously reported or exceedingly condemned.” His response was to assemble the records of English voyages “to the most remote and farthest distant quarters of the earth.” Hakluyt’s focus was by no means exclusively on voyages to the New World. The perilous enterprise in which he hoped “the English nation” would prevail was global in The title page of the first modern atlas, Abraham Ortelius’s 1570 Theatrum orbis terrarum (Theater of the World), features

allegorical figures of the known continents, with Europe as a queen enthroned at the top; Asia as an oriental princess holding an incense burner; half-clad Africa with a sprig of balsam;

and naked America as an Amazonian warrior holding a severed head.

its scope

and

required

an

almost

limitless curiosity. It was as critically important, he believed, for his countrymen to learn about Muscovy as about Cuba; as vital to English interests to chart the coast around Sierra Leone as around Virginia; as useful to collect infor-

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mation on China as on Brazil. There were strong xenophobic currents in English society, and a belligerent insistence on the absolute truth of Protestant Christianity. But Hakluyt understood that his nation’s success in the competitive, often violent struggle to explore, chart, and exploit the natural and human resources of the globe depended on the enterprise of assembling as much reliable information as possible, preferably from eyewitness sources. To be of full use, both for England’s practical endeavors and for the general goal of understanding the world, that information would have to reach beyond physical geography to the social practices and beliefs, including religious beliefs, of alien peoples. Hence, for example, Sir Walter Ralegh sent the deeply impressive intellectual Thomas Hariot to observe the Algonkian natives of Virginia and to describe in detail their technology, society, and conceptions of the world. Hariot’s ethnographic observations were supplemented by beautiful watercolors by the talented artist and cartographer John White. (One of these watercolors is reproduced in the color insert in this volume.) The Algonkians were entirely new to the English and therefore aroused particular curiosity, but a comparable attention extended to parts of the world that were at least partially known and to peoples traditionally regarded as mortal enemies. In 1600 a protégé of Hakluyt, John Pory, undertook to translate and publish the Geographical History ofAfrica (completed in 1526) by “John Leo Africanus,” a Muslim-born traveler whose vivid descriptions were widely regarded as a crucial resource for understanding that entire continent. Also around the turn of the seventeenth century, Thomas Dallam and Richard Knolles wrote accounts of the Ottoman Empire that manifested a more nuanced and ambivalent attitude to the great and fearsome Islamic power than might be expected. Popular plays on the Elizabethan stage continued to feature parodic versions of the Muslim enemy, but Queen Elizabeth's foreign policy envisaged the possibility of an alliance with rulers in Turkey and Morocco against the Spanish, and English readers could for the first time in this period begin to find reasonably detailed accounts not only of the Sultan’s court and the organization of his state but also of Islam. “To seek new worlds for gold, for praise, for glory,” as Ralegh characterized the enterprises he and his contemporaries undertook, was not for the faint of heart:

Drake, Cavendish, Frobisher, and Hawkins all died at sea, as did huge numbers of

those who sailed under their command. Elizabethans who were sensible enough to stay at home could have material glimpses of their fellow countrymen’s far-reaching voyages. Expeditions brought back native plants and their products (including tomatoes, pineapples, chocolate, and tobacco), animals, cultural artifacts, and, on occasion, samples of the native peoples themselves, most often seized against their will. There were exhibitions in London of a kidnapped Eskimo with his kayak and of Virginians with their canoes. Most of these miserable captives, violently uprooted and vulnerable to European diseases, quickly perished, but even in death they were evidently valuable property: while the English will not give one small coin “to relieve a lame beggar,” one of the characters in The Tempest wryly remarks, “they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian” (2.2.30—31).

But the principal way in which stay-at-homes encountered the rapidly expanding the kind we present here. These accounts world was through eyewitness accounts of wellwere not, on the whole, rhetorically ornate. Travelers’ tales had an ancient and and mendacity, outright and on, exaggerati on, self-inflati for deserved reputation consequently Elizabethan writers strove for the effect of factual directness, simplicity, and trustworthiness.

circulated,

Elizabethan

As ever

more

narratives

readers evidently became

of voyages

more

to remote

places

discriminating in sorting

Travels, but out truth from fable. In his first edition Hakluyt included Mandeville’s edition. second the from it dropped he quietly

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Yet the encounters described in many of the reports printed in Hakluyt and elsewhere were so remarkable, calling into question so many of Elizabethan culture's rooted assumptions about human behavior, that even in their sober just-the-facts style they often convey the mingled wonder, fear, and longing that characterize the most extravagant literary romances. The greatest Elizabethan writer of romance, Edmund Spenser, acknowledged the affinity between reported truth and apparent fable in defending his Faerie Land against anyone who might complain that it was unreal: But let that man with better sense advise,

That of the world least part to us is read: And daily how through hardy enterprise Many great regions are discovered, Which to late age were never mentionéd. Who ever heard of th’Indian Peru? Or who in venturous vessel measuréd The Amazons’ huge river, now found true? Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever view? (The Faerie Queene, Book 2, Proem)

HAKLUYT’S DEDICATORY EPISTLE TO THE PRINCIPAL NAVIGATIONS, 1589 ducated at Westminster School and at Christ Church College, Oxford, Richard Hakluyt (1552?—1616) was an ordained minister in the Church of England.

He is famous for his tireless efforts as a writer and editor to promote the English settlement of North America and to chronicle English maritime achievements. His major work was a monumental collection published as The principal navigations, voiages, traffiques and discoveries of the English nation, made by sea or over-land, to the remote and farthest distant quarters of the earth. The work assembled a vast array of texts ranging from a description of King Arthur’s purported conquests in the sixth century to eyewitness accounts of contemporary voyages of exploration in

the Americas, Africa, and Asia. In the dedicatory epistle to Sir Francis Walsingham, Hakluyt recalls the moment when as a boy he first was seized with what became his lifelong fascination with the literature of travel. Apart from travel to Paris, where he served for a time as chaplain to the English ambassador, he himself never set out on any of the voyages whose records he was instrumental in preserving and printing.

HAKEUY T

SSeDEDIGCATORYS

EPISTLE

618

From To the Right Honorable Sir Francis Walsingham! Knight, principal secretary to Her Majesty, chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, and one of Her Majesty’s most honorable privy council Right honorable, | do remember that being a youth and one of Her Majesty’s scholars at Westminster,’ that fruitful nursery, it was my hap to visit the chamber of Ml[aster] Richard Hakluyt, my cousin, a gentleman of the Middle Temple,* well known unto you, at a time when I found lying open upon his board? certain books of cosmography, with an universal map. He, seeing me somewhat curious in the view thereof, began to instruct my ignorance by showing me the division of the earth into three parts after the old account, and then, according to the latter and better distribution, into more; he pointed with his wand*® to all the known seas, gulfs, bays, straits,

capes, rivers, empires, kingdoms, dukedoms, and territories of each part, with declaration also of their special commodities and particular wants, which by the benefit of traffic’ and intercourse of merchants are plentifully supplied. From the map he brought me to the Bible, and, turning to the 107th Psalm, directed me to the twenty-third and twenty-fourth verses, where I read that they which go down to the sea in ships and occupy® by the great waters, they see the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep, etc. Which words of the prophet, together with my cousin’s discourse (things of high and rare delight to my young nature), took in me so deep an impression that I constantly resolved if ever I were preferred to the university, where better time and more convenient place might be ministered for these studies, I would by God’s assistance prosecute that knowledge and kind of literature, the doors whereof (after a sort) were so happily opened before me. According to which my resolution, when, not long after, I was removed to Christ Church? in Oxford, my exercises of duty first performed, I fell to my intended course, and by degrees read over whatsoever printed or written discoveries and voyages I found extant either in the Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, Portugal, French, or English languages, and in my public lectures was the first that produced and showed both the old imperfectly composed and the new lately reformed maps, globes, spheres, and other instruments of this art for demonstration in the common schools, to the singular pleasure and general contentment of my auditory. In con-

tinuance of time, and by reason principally of my insight in this study, I grew familiarly acquainted with the chiefest captains at sea, the greatest merchants, and the best mariners of our nation; by which means having

1. Elizabeth I's secretary of state, Walsingham (ca. 1532-1590) was also her spymaster. 2. The famous preparatory school founded by Henry VIII in the precinct of Westminster Abbey. 3. One of the four Inns of Court—the legal societies of London, which educated all English lawyers and provided many of them with their

chambers. 4. Table. 5. Medieval maps of the world showed its land mass divided into Asia, Europe, and Africa. 6.

Rod or stick (not a magic one).

7. Trade. 8. Do business. 9. Christ Church College.

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gotten somewhat more than common knowledge, I passed at length the narrow seas into France with Sir Edward Stafford, Her Majesty’s careful and discreet ligier,! where, during my five years’ abode with him in his dangerous and chargeable* residency in Her Highness’ service, | both heard in speech and read in books other nations miraculously extolled for their discoveries and notable enterprises by sea, but the English of all others for their sluggish security? and continual neglect of the like attempts, especially in so long and happy a time of peace, either ignominiously reported or exceedingly condemned; which singular opportunity if some other people our neighbors had been blessed with, their protestations are often and vehement, they would far otherwise have used. * * * Thus both hearing and reading the obloquy of our nation, and finding few or none of our own men able to reply herein, and, further, not seeing any man to have care to recommend? to the world the industrious labors and painful travels of our countrymen; for stopping the mouths of the reproachers, myself being the last winter returned from France with the honorable the Lady Sheffield, for her passing’ good behavior highly esteemed in all the French court, determined notwithstanding all difficulties to undertake the burden of that work wherein all others pretended either ignorance or lack of leisure or want of sufficient argument,° whereas (to speak truly) the huge toil and the small profit to ensue were the chief causes of the refusal. I call the work a burden in consideration that these voyages’ lay so dispersed, scattered, and hidden in several hucksters’ hands* that I now wonder at myself to see how I was able to endure the delays, curiosity,’ and backwardness of many from whom I was to receive my originals.* * * To harp no longer upon this string, and to speak a word of that just commendation

which our nation do indeed deserve, it cannot be denied

but as in all former ages they have been men

full of activity, stirrers

abroad, and searchers of the remote parts of the world, so in this most

famous and peerless government of Her Most Excellent Majesty, her subjects through the special assistance and blessing of God in searching the most opposite corners and quarters of the world and, to speak plainly, in compassing! the vast globe of the earth more than once, have excelled all the nations and people of the earth. For which of the kings of this land before Her Majesty had their banners ever seen in the Caspian Sea? Which of them hath ever dealt with the emperor of Persia, as Her Majesty hath done, and obtained for her merchants large and loving privileges? Who ever saw, before this regiment,” an English ligier in the stately porch of the grand signior* at Constantinople? Who ever found English consuls and agents at Tripoli in Syria, at Aleppo,* at Babylon, at Balsara, and,

1. Ambassador—in Stafford’s chaplain. 2. Important.

Paris, where

Hakluyt

was

8. Le., in various places from which they were unlikely to be recovered. 9. Whims.

3. Complacency.

1. Circumnavigating.

4. Commend. 5. Surpassingly. 6. Subject matter.

2. Reign. 3. The sultan of Turkey. “Porch”: i.e., the Sublime Porte; the sultan’s court or palace.

i

Le., the written accounts of the voyages.

4. Like Tripoli, a city in Syria.

AIC EUSY TiS) DIED NGA

OIR War E PaliSale E

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which is more, who ever heard of Englishman at Goa’ before now? What

English ships did heretofore ever anker in the mighty River of Plate,° pass and repass the unpassable (in former opinion) Strait of Magellan,’ range along the coast of Chile, Peru, and all the back side of Nova Hispania® further than any Christian ever passed, traverse the mighty breadth of the South Sea, land upon the Luzones’ in despight of the enemy, enter into

alliance, amity, and traffic with the princes of the Moluccas! and the Isle of Java, double the famous Cape of Bona Speranza,’ arrive at the Isle of Santa Helena,’ and last of all return home most richly laden with the commodities of China, as the subjects of this now flourishing monarchy have done? Lucius Florus in the very end of his history De gestis Romanorum* recordeth as a wonderful

miracle that the Seres (which I take to be the

people of Cathay, or China) sent ambassadors to Rome to entreat friendship, as moved with the fame of the majesty of the Roman Empire. And have not we as good cause to admire that the kings of the Moluccas and Java Major® have desired the favor of Her Majesty and the commerce and traffic of her people? Is it not as strange that the born naturals of Japan and the Philippines are here to be seen, agreeing with our climate, speaking our language, and informing us of the state of their eastern habitations? For mine own part, I take it as a pledge of God’s further favor both to us and to them: to them especially, unto whose doors I doubt not in time shall be by us carried the incomparable treasure of the truth of Christianity and of the gospel, while we use and exercise common trade with their merchants. * * * Now whereas I have always noted your wisdom to have had a special care of the honor of Her Majesty, the good reputation of our country, and the advancing of navigation, the very walls of this our island, as the oracle is reported to have spoken of the sea forces of Athens;° and whereas I acknowledge in all dutiful sort how honorably both by your letter and speech I have been animated in this and other my travels, I see myself bound to make presentment of this work to yourself, as the fruits of your own encouragements and the manifestation both of my unfeigned service to my prince and country and of my particular duty to your honor; which I have done with the less suspicion either of not satisfying the world or of not answering your own expectation, in that according to your order it hath passed the sight

5. Capital of the Portuguese colony in India. Balsara is another Indian city. 6. The Rio de la Plata (River of Silver), the large estuary between present-day Argentina and Uruguay. 7, The strait, notoriously difficult to navigate, between mainland South America and Tierra del Fuego. 8. New Spain: loosely used of South and Central America as a whole. Chile and Peru occupy much of its “back side” (western side), reached by the Strait of Magellan. 9. The Philippines, held by Spain. 1. The Spice Islands, an Indonesian archipelago. 2. The Cape of Good Hope, near the southern

tip of Africa. 3. A South Atlantic island about twelve hundred miles west of Africa, later best known as the place of exile of Napoleon Bonaparte. 4. On the Deeds of the Romans. Florus’s work (2nd century c.£.), a history of Rome from its founding to the age of Augustus, is now usually known as the Epitome of All the Wars during Seven Hundred Years. 5. The Indonesian island ofJava. 6. In 480 B.c.£., the Delphic Oracle prophesied that Athens could be saved from the Persian invaders by a “wall of wood.” The Athenian politician and general Themistocles interpreted this— correctly, as it turned out—as referring to the wooden ships of the Athenian navy.

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and party also the censure of the learned physician M[aster] Doctor James,’ a man many ways very notably qualified. And thus beseeching God, the giver of all true honor and wisdom, to increase both these blessings in you, with continuance of health, strength, happiness, and whatsoever good thing else yourself can wish, | humbly take my leave. London, the seventeenth of November. Your honor’s most humble always to be commanded, Richard Hakluyt 1589

1589, 1598-1600

7. Nothing more is known about this acquaintance of Hakluyt’s.

LEO AFRICANUS ON THE NORTH AFRICANS, 1526 orn in Muslim Granada, al-Hasan ibn Muhammad al-Wazzan al-Fasi (1494— 1554), as he was named at birth, was a boundary crosser throughout his life.

Raised and educated in Morocco, he traveled widely in North Africa on diplomatic and other business. Captured by Spanish pirates in 1518, he was enslaved and then, when his masters realized his importance, sent to Rome, where he was presented to Pope Leo X. There he converted to Christianity and was given the name Giovanni Leone (John Leo), to which the pope, serving as his godfather, added the last name de’ Medici. In 1526 he completed his long, important book on Africa, which was in manuscript circulation before it was printed in a best-selling Italian edition in 1550 and subsequently in French, Latin, and English translations. Leo’s vision of Africa—a view notable for its complexity, ambiguity, and richness—had a major impact on European understanding of the continent’s geography and peoples. His book’s impact on Shakespeare’s Othello has been most often remarked, but its influence extends well beyond that play.

From A Geographical History of Africa, Written in Arabic and Italian by John Leo a Moor, born in Granada and brought up in Barbary.' * * * Translated and collected by John Pory. From The commendable actions and virtues of the Africans Those Arabians which inhabit in Barbary or upon the coast of the Mediterranean Sea are greatly addicted unto the study of good arts and sciences; and those things which concern their law and religion are esteemed by them in the first place. Moreover, they have been heretofore most studious

1, Old name for the Arab countries along the coast of North Africa west of Egypt. Leo grew up in Morocco.

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of the mathematics, of philosophy, and of astrology:* but these arts * * * were four hundred years ago utterly destroyed and taken away by the chief professors of their law.* The inhabitants of cities do most religiously observe and reverence those things which appertain unto their religion: yea they honor those doctors and priests of whom they learn their law as if they were petty gods. Their churches they frequent very diligently, to the end they may repeat certain prescript* and formal prayers; most superstitiously persuading themselves that the same day wherein they make their prayers it is not lawful for them to wash certain of their members, times they will wash their whole bodies. * * *

whenas

at other

Moreover, those which inhabit Barbary are of great cunning and dexterity for building and for mathematical inventions, which a man may easily conjecture by their artificial? works. Most honest people they are, and destitute of all fraud and guile; not only embracing all simplicity and truth but also practicing the same throughout the whole course of their lives, albeit certain Latin authors which have written of the same regions are far otherwise of opinion. Likewise they are most strong and valiant people, especially those which dwell upon the mountains. They keep their covenant most faithfully, insomuch that they had rather die than break promise. No nation in the world is so subject unto jealousy, for they will rather leese their lives than put up® any disgrace in the behalf of their women. So desirous they are of riches and honor that therein no other people can go beyond them. They travel, in a manner, over the whole world to exercise traffic.’ For they are continually to be seen in Egypt, in Ethiopia, in Arabia, Persia, India, and

Turkey: and whithersoever they go, they are most honorably esteemed of: for none of them will profess any art® unless he hath attained unto great exactness and perfection therein. They have always been much delighted with all kind of civility and modest behavior, and it is accounted heinous among them for any man to utter in company any bawdy or unseemly word. They have always in mind this sentence? of a grave author: “Give place to thy superior.” If any youth, in presence of his father, his uncle, or any other of his kindred doth sing or talk aught of love matters, he is deemed to be worthy of grievous punishment. Whatsoever lad or youth there lighteth by chance into any company which discourseth of love, no sooner heareth nor understandeth what their talk tendeth unto but immediately he withdraweth himself from among them. These are the things which we thought most worthy of relation as concerning the civility, humanity, and upright dealing of the Barbarians:! let us now proceed unto the residue.

2. At the time, all practical applications of astronomical knowledge (e.g., forecasting tides) and not, as later, only the supposed art (“judicial astrology”)

of foretelling human affairs by interpreting the motions of heavenly bodies. “Philosophy”: presumably in the old, broad sense that encompasses all the liberal arts, including the sciences (“natural

philosophy”). 3. The great scientific and cultural flourishing of the Islamic Golden Age of the 7th to 13th centuries c.e. ended for a number of reasons, including suc-

cessive waves of invasions, beginning in the 13th century, of Arab lands by Mongols, Christians, and Turks—with attendant destruction of cultural

institutions such as libraries and schools—but also including the rise of currents of Islamic religious and legal thought not favoring rationalistic inquiry. “Professors”: professed authorities (not just professors in the modern sense). 4. Prescribed. 5. Artfully made. 6. Put up with, endure. “Leese”: lose. 7. Le., to carry on trade. “In a manner”: as one might say. 8. Craft; skill. 9. Maxim.

1. People of Barbary.

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Those Arabians which dwell in tents, that is to say, which bring up cattle,* are of a more liberal and civil disposition: to wit, they are, in their kind, as devout, valiant, patient, courteous, hospital, and as honest in life

and conversation,* as any other people. They be most faithful observers of their word and promise, insomuch that the people which, before, we said to dwell in the mountains are greatly stirred up with emulation of their virtues. Howbeit the said mountainers both for learning, for virtue, and for religion are thought much inferior to the Numidians,* albeit they have little or no knowledge at all in natural philosophy. They are valiant, and exceeding lovers and practicers of all humanity.? Also the Moors and Arabians inhabiting Libya are somewhat civil of behavior, being plain dealers, void of dissimulation, favorable to strangers, and lovers of simplicity. Those which we before named white or tawny Moors® are most steadfast in friendship, as likewise they indifferently’ and favorably esteem of other nations: and wholly endeavor themselves in this one thing, namely, that they may lead a most pleasant and jocund life. Moreover, they maintain most learned professors of liberal arts and such men as are most devout in their religion. Neither is there any people in all Africa that lead a more happy and honorable life.

What vices the foresaid Africans are subject unto Never was there any people or nation so perfectly endued with virtue but that they had their contrary faults and blemishes. Now therefore let us consider whether the vices of the Africans do surpass their virtues and

good parts. Those which we named the inhabitants of the cities of Barbary are somewhat needy and covetous, being also very proud and high-minded,® and wonderfully addicted unto wrath; insomuch that (according to the proverb) they will deeply engrave in marble any injury be it never so small, and will in no wise blot it out of their remembrance. So rustical? they are and void of good manners that scarcely can any stranger obtain their familiarity and friendship. Their wits are but mean,! and they are so credulous that they will believe matters impossible which are told them. So ignorant are they of natural philosophy that they imagine all the effects and operations of nature to be extraordinary and divine. They observe no certain order of living nor of laws. Abounding exceedingly with choler,? they speak always with an angry and loud voice. Neither shall you walk in the daytime in any of their streets but you shall see commonly two or three of them together by the ears.? By nature they are a vile and base people, being no better accounted of by their governors? than if they were

2. Livestock generally (not just cows).

7. Impartially.

3. Behavior. “Kind”: nature. “Hospital”: hospitable. 4. Numidia was the long-surviving Roman name for the part of North Africa that roughly corresponds to modern Algeria and Tunisia. 5. Kindness, benevolence. 6. Leo had earlier distinguished between black Africans and the lighter-complexioned peoples

8. Haughty. 9. Boorish. 1. Inferior. 2. Bile, an overabundance of which was thought, in the old physiology, to produce an irascible temperament. 3. Le., Fighting.

of North Africa.

4. Rulers.

ON

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619

dogs. They have neither judges nor lawyers, by whose wisdom and counsel they ought to be directed. They are utterly unskillful in trades of merchandise, being destitute of bankers and moneychangers: wherefore a merchant can do nothing among them in his absence, but is himself constrained to go in person whithersoever his wares are carried. No people under heaven are more addicted unto covetise® than this nation; neither is there (I think) to be found among them one of an hundred who for courtesy, humanity, or devotion’s sake will vouchsafe any entertainment® upon a stranger. Mindful they have always been of injuries, but most forgetful of benefits. Their minds are perpetually possessed with vexation and strife, so that they will seldom or never show themselves tractable to any man; the cause whereof is supposed to be for that’ they are so greedily addicted unto their filthy lucre that they never could attain unto any kind of civility or good behavior. The shepherds of that region live a miserable, toilsome, wretched, and

beggarly life: they are a rude® people and (as a man may say) born and bred to theft, deceit, and brutish manners. Their young men may go a-wooing to divers maids, till such time as they have sped of? a wife. Yea the father of the

maid most friendly welcometh her suitor, so that I think scarce any noble or gentleman among them can choose a virgin for his spouse; albeit so soon as any woman is married she is quite forsaken of all her suitors, who then seek out other new paramours for their liking. Concerning their religion, the greater part of these people are neither Mohammedans, Jews, nor Christians; and hardly shall you find so much as a spark of piety in any of them. They have no churches at all nor any kind of prayers, but being utterly estranged from all godly devotion they lead a savage and beastly life: and if any man chanceth to be of a better disposition (because they have no lawgivof ers nor teachers among them),' he is constrained to follow the example

other men’s lives and manners.

All the Numidians, being most ignorant of natural, domestical, and com-

monwealth matters, are principally addicted unto treason, treachery, murder, theft, and robbery. This nation, because it is most slavish, will right or gladly accept of any service among the Barbarians, be it never so vile to others ers, dung-farm be contemptible. For some will take upon them to ns. be scullions, some others to be ostlers? and suchlike servile occupatio

g Likewise the inhabitants of Libya live a brutish kind of life, who neglectin theft unto minds their apply wholly do sciences and arts all kinds of good form and violence. Never as yet had they any religion, any laws, or any good disand miserable of living, but always had, and ever will have, a most damnable so invented be tressed life. There cannot any treachery or villainy all their days which for lucre’s sake they dare not attempt. They spend neither wear either in most lewd practices, or in hunting, or else in warfare;

kind of they any shoes nor garments. The Negroes likewise lead a beastly 5. 6. 7. 8. 9, 1_

Covetousness. Hospitality. Because. Uncivilized. Succeeded in acquiring. “Divers”: various. The idea is that, in the absence of lawgivers

and teachers, good dispositions can occur only by chance. 2. Matters of the common good. 3, Stablemen. “Dung-farmers”: those contracted to remove dung and refuse. “Scullions”: kitchen servants.

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life, being utterly destitute of the use of reason, of dexterity, of wit,* and of all arts. Yea they so behave themselves as if they had continually lived in a forest among wild beasts. They have great swarms of harlots among them, whereupon a man may easily conjecture their manner of living; except their conversation’ perhaps be somewhat more tolerable who dwell in the principal towns and cities: for it is like that they are somewhat more addicted?® to civility. 1526

1600

4. Intellect. ness,

“Dexterity”:

here,

mental

adroit-

5. Behavior. 6. Accustomed. “Like”: likely.

AN ENGLISH TRAVELER’S GUIDE TO THE NORTH AFRICANS, 1547 ndrew Borde (or Boorde) (ca. 1490-1549) was a physician, a traveler, and the

author of books on medicine and on astronomy. The First Book of the Introduction of Knowledge

(1547) describes the customs and manners

of various nations,

from the English and their neighbors to the Moors, the Turks, the Egyptians, and the Jews. For each nation Borde includes a satirical description in verse and a few phrases in the local language.

From The First Book of the Introduction of Knowledge [THE MOORS WHICH DO DWELL IN BARBARY|

I am a black Moor born in Barbary;! Christian men for money oft doth me buy. If Ibe unchristened, merchants do not care,

They buy me in markets, be I never so bare. Yet will I be a good diligent slave, Although I do stand in stead? of a knave. I do gather figs, and with some I wipe my tail: To be angry with me, what shall it avail?

Barbary is a great country, and plentiful of fruit, wine, and corn? The inhabitors be called the Moors. There be white Moors and black Moors. They be infidels and unchristened. There be many Moors brought into Christendom, into great cities and towns, to be sold. And Christian men do buy them, and they will be diligent, and will do all manner of service. 1. North Africa west of Egypt.

2. In the place of.

3. Grain (in general).

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But they be set most commonly to vile things. They be called slaves. They do gather grapes and figs, and with some of the figs they will wipe their tail, and put them in the frail.4 They have great lips, and knotted hair, black and curled. Their skin is soft, and there is

nothing white but their teeth and the white of the eye. When a merchant or any other man do buy them, they be not all of one price,

A Moor. From Cesare Vacellio, Degli habiti (1590).

for some be better cheap than some; they be sold after as they can work and do their business. When they do die, they be cast into the water, or on a dunghill, that dogs and pies? and crows may eat them, except some of them that be christened: they be buried. They do keep much of Mohammed's law, as the Turks do. They have now a great captain called Barbarossa® which is a great warrior. They doth harm, divers times, to the Genoese,

and to Provence and Languedoc, and for they will come over the them, on border do that and other countries things. other and geese, and pigs, steal straits, Whoso will speak any Moorish,’ English and Moorish doth follow. One. two. three. four. five. six. seven. Wada. attennin. talate. orba. camata. sette. saba.

eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve. thirteen.

camene. tessa. asshera. habasshe. atanasshe. telatasshe. fourteen. fifteen. sixteen. seventeen. arbatasshe. camatasshe. setatasshe. sabatashe.

eighteen. nineteen. twenty. one and twenty, etc.

tematasshe. tyssatasshe. essherte. wahadaessherte, etc.

Good morrow.

Sabaskyr.

Give me some bread and milk and cheese.

Atteyne gobbis, leben, juben.

Give me wine, water, flesh, fish, and eggs. Atteyne nebet, moy, laghe, semek, beyet. 4, Basket made of rushes. 5. Magpies. 6. The Turk Khayr-al-Din (d. 1546), known to Europeans as Barbarossa (“Redbeard” in Italian), ruled Algiers and was a notorious pirate who

later became

admiral-in-chief of the Ottoman

Empire. 7. This “Moorish”isa poorly transcribed dialect of Arabic.

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Much good do it you. Sahagh. You be welcome. Marrehababack.

I thank you. Erthar lake heracke.

Good night. Mesalkyr. 1542

A VOYAGE

1547

TO

EQUATORIAL

AFRICA,

1554

Cambridge graduate whose professional interests included chemistry and alchemy, Richard Eden (ca. 1520-1576) is best known as a translator of works on the New World and as an early promoter of English overseas ventures. His translation of Peter Martyr's Decades of the New World or West India (1555), the first

widely available account of the Americas in English, presented Spanish imperialism as a model for the English to emulate. To depict English exploration as a viable competitor to that of the Spanish and Portuguese, Eden appended to his translation reports of two recent English voyages to Africa, along with his own prefatory material. Drawing heavily on traditional cosmographical works as well as eyewitness narratives, Eden laid out a standard and influential description of Africa and its inhabitants,

a description in which the mythical Prester John and “people without heads, called Blemines, having their eyes and mouth in their breast,” coexist with the very real inhabitants of Guinea with whom the Englishmen interact and whom they bring back to England as slaves.

From The second voyage to Guinea, * * * in the year 1554, the Captain whereof was Master John Lok! [A DESCRIPTION OF AFRICANS|

“ "It is to be understood that the people which now inhabit the regions of the coast of Guinea and the middle parts of Africa, as Libya the inner and Nubia,’ with divers other great and large regions about the same, were in old time called Ethiops and Nigritae, which we now call Moors, Moo1. Lok (a great-great-great-uncle of the philosopher John Locke) commanded three ships that left London in October 1554 for a trading voyage to Africa. The expedition reached the Saharan coast of West Africa in late November and sailed south and east to the GulfofGuinea—the northeasternmost expanse of the South Atlantic Ocean, lying along the underside of the great bend in the conti-

nent’s west coast. The expedition traded eastwardly along the coast until mid-February, when it turned toward home; the ships reached London in early June 1555, bearing a cargo of gold, pepper, elephants’ tusks, the skull of one particularly large elephant, and five black slaves. 2. A region along the Nile, now in southern Egypt and northern Sudan.

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rens,* or Negroes, a people of beastly living, without a God, law, religion, or commonwealth, and so scorched and vexed with the heat of the sun that in many places they curse it when it riseth. Of the regions and people about the inner Libya (called Libya interior), Gemma Frisius* writeth thus:

Libya interior is very large and desolate, in the which are many horrible wildernesses and mountains replenished’ with diverse kinds of wild and monstrous beasts and serpents. First, from Mauretania or Barbary toward

the south is Getulia,® a rough and savage region whose inhabitants are wild and wandering people. After these follow the people called Melanogetuli and Pharusii, which wander in the wilderness, carrying with them great gourds of water. The Ethiopians called Nigritae occupy a great part of Africa, and are extended to the West Ocean.’ Southward also they reach to the river Nigris, whose nature agreeth with the river of Nilus, forasmuch as it is increased and diminished at the same time, and bringeth forth the like beasts as the crocodile.’ By reason whereof, I think this to be the same river which the Portugals call Senaga,’ for this river is also of the same nature. It is furthermore marvelous and very strange that is said of this river: and this is that on the one side thereof the inhabitants are of high stature and black, and on the other side of brown or tawny color and low stature; which thing also our men confirm to be true.' There are also other people of Libya called Garamantes, whose women are common: for they contract no matrimony, neither have respect to chastity. * * * But to speak somewhat more of Ethiopia: although there are many nations of people so named, yet is Ethiopia chiefly divided into two parts, whereof the one is called Ethiopia under Egypt, a great and rich region. To this pertaineth the Island Meroe,’ embraced round about with the streams of the river Nilus. In this island, women reigned in old time. Josephus writeth that it was sometime called Saba, and that the queen of Saba came

from thence to Jerusalem to hear the wisdom of Solomon.* From hence whom toward the east reigneth the * * * Christian Emperor Prester John,

some call Papa Johannes and other say that he is called Pean Juan (that is) Great John, whose empire reacheth far beyond Nilus and is extended to the coasts of the Red Sea and Indian Sea.’ * * * About this region inhabit the 3. A variant of Moors, from French. “Ethiops”: the term was applied not just to inhabitants of Ethiopia but generally to black Africans—as was “Nigritae,” the classical Latin name of a tribe living on the banks of the Nigris (or Niger) River in

Ethiopia. 4. A Dutch polymath from whose Latin work On the Elements of Astronomy and Cosmography (1530) Eden adapted the following three paragraphs. 5. Stocked. 6. A large desert region in North Africa south of the Atlas Mountains, bordering the Sahara. “Mauretania”: the old name for the Mediterranean coast of what is now Morocco. “Barbary”: the name for the Arab countries along the coast of North Africa west of Egypt. Eden, though, appears to have regarded the two terms as syn-

onymous.

7. Le., the Atlantic off northwestern Africa.

8. Like the Nile (in Latin, Nilus), the Nigris floods

annually. Crocodiles were thought to generate spontaneously through the action of sunlight on

Nile mud.

9, The Senegal River in West Africa, often wrongly supposed to be connected to the Nigris or Niger.

1. This discovery was made, by the Portuguese, in 1445 near the mouth of the Senegal, where the trees end and the Sahara Desert begins. 2. Ie., held in common, The Garamantes, a people of the Sahara, developed an advanced civilization, in the period 500 B.c.E—700 C.E. 3. A Sudanese region bounded by three rivers. Its eponymous city, on the east bank of the Nile, was the capital of the ancient kingdom of Kush. 4. The story of the queen of Sheba's visit to Solomon is told in 1 Kings 10.1—13. The identification, by the Romano-Jewish historian Titus Flavius Josephus (Ist century C.E.), of Sheba with the ancient African kingdom of Saba is highly suspect. 5. The legendary Christian ruler Prester John, much written of in the Middle Ages, was sometimes said to have been king of Ethiopia.

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people called Clodi, Risophagi, Babylonii, Axiunitae, Molili, and Molibae. After these is the region called Troglodytica,® whose inhabitants dwell in caves and dens: for these are their houses, and the flesh of serpents their meat, as writeth Pliny and Diodorus Siculus.’ They have no speech, but rather a grinning and chattering. There are also people without heads, called Blemines, having their eyes and mouth in their breast. Likewise Strucophagi and naked Ganphantantes. Satyrs® also, which have nothing of men

but only shape. Moreover, Oripei, great hunters. Mennones

also,

and the region of Smyrnophora, which bringeth forth myrrh. After these is the region of Azania, in which many elephants are found. A great part of the other regions of Africa that are beyond the equinoctial line are now ascribed to the kingdom of Melinde, whose inhabitants are accustomed to traffic? with the nations of Arabia, and their king is joined in friendship with the king of Portugal, and payeth tribute to Prester John. The other Ethiope, called Ethiopia interior * * *, is not yet known for the greatness! thereof, but only by the seacoasts. * * * Furthermore, the Ethiopians called Rhapsii and Anthropophagi,’ that are accustomed to eat man’s flesh, inhabit the regions near unto the mountains (that is) the Mountains of the Moon.? * * *

called Montes

Lunae

Some write that Africa was so named by the Grecians, because it is without cold. For the Greek letter alpha or “A” signifieth privation, void, or without, and “Phrice” signifieth cold.* For indeed although in the stead of winter they have a cloudy and tempestuous season, yet is it not cold but rather smothering hot, with hot showers of rain also, and somewhere’ such scorch-

ing winds that, what by one means and other, they seem at certain times to live as it were in furnaces, and, in manner, already halfway in Purgatory or

Hell. Gemma Frisius writeth that in certain parts of Africa, as in Atlas the Greater,’ the air in the night season is seen shining, with many strange fires and flames rising, in manner, as high as the moon: and that in the element are sometime heard, as it were, the sound of pipes, trumpets, and drums:

which noises may perhaps be caused by the vehement and sundry motions of such fiery exhalations in the air, as we see the like in many experiences® wrought by fire, air, and wind.

6. A region along the west coast of the Red Sea. Its name is from the Greek for “hole dwellers.” 7. Diodorus of Sicily (Ist century B.c.£.) wrote a universal

history

(most

of which

is lost). The

Roman Pliny the Elder (Ist century c.£.) wrote a massive encyclopedia, Natural History, now best

known for its occasional excursions into unnatu-

9. Trade. “Equinoctial”: equatorial. 1. Size. 2. Man-eaters; also from Pliny. Othello says that Desdemona was fascinated by his life story, which included encounters with “the cannibals that of each other eat, / The anthropophagi, and men whose heads / Do grow beneath their shoul-

ral history, such as its accounts of the headless Blemines (or Blemmyes) and some of the other extraordinary races described by Eden. The great Greek historian Herodotus (5th century B.c.E.) also supplied some wonders of this kind, and such reports became commonplaces of travel writing, proliferating in later times by way of popular

ders” (1.3.142—44).

works like The Travels of Sir John Mandeville (14th

6. As it were. 7. The interior range

century).

8. In classical mythology, satyrs were minor woodland deities whose form was partly human and partly bestial.

3. A legendary mountain range thought to contain the headwaters of the Nile. 4. One of many false etymologies common in the period. The actual origin of the word Africa Is uncertain.

5. In some places. rising from the Sahara. 8. Occurrences.

of the Atlas

Mountains,

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Many things more our men saw and considered in this voyage, worthy to be noted, whereof I have thought good to put some in memory, that the reader may as well take pleasure in the variety of things, as knowledge of the history. Among other things, therefore, touching the manners and nature of the people, this may seem strange, that their princes and noblemen use to pounce? and raise their skins with pretty knots in divers forms, as it were branched damask, thinking that to be a decent! ornament. And albeit they

should have hindered their bargaining in another place whither they intended to go. But for all the haste they could make with full sails, the fame of their misusage so prevented’ them that the people of that place also, offended thereby, would bring in no wares: insomuch that they were enforced either to restore the cat or pay for her at their price, before they could traffic there.

Many things more might be said of the manners of the people, and of the wonders and monstrous things that are engendered in Africa. But it shall suffice to have said thus much of such things as our * * “ men saw. %

Among other things that chanced to them in this voyage, this is worthy to be noted, that whereas they sailed thither in seven weeks, they could return in no less space than twenty weeks. The cause whereof they say to be this: That about the coast of Cabo Verde’ the wind is ever in the east, by reason whereof they were enforced to sail far out of their course into the main our ocean to find the wind at the west to bring them home. There died of their at died many whereof four, men at this last voyage about twenty and return into the clime of the cold regions, as between the Islands of Azores? and England. They brought with them certain black slaves, whereof some were tall and strong men and could well agree with our meats! and drinks. men The cold and moist air doth somewhat offend? them. Yet doubtless are that men than cold the that are born in hot regions may better abide 9. Tattoo. “Use to”: are accustomed to. 1. Becoming. “Branched damask”: a fabric woven with elaborate designs and figures. 2. “In manner”: here the meaning is “very nearly.” 3. Bit. 4. Using.

5. Treated badly. “Gently”: courteously. 6. Not suspecting. “Musk cat”: civet cat, which secretes musk used for perfumery.

7. Preceded; outstripped.

8. Cape Verde, lying on the coast westernmost point of the African 9. An archipelago in the Atlantic of Portugal, claimed and settled guese in the 15th century. 1. Le., solid food—not just flesh. 2. Displease.

of Senegal, the continent. 850 miles west by the Portu-

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born in cold regions may abide heat, forasmuch as vehement heat resolveth

3

the radical moisture of men’s bodies, as cold constraineth and preserveth

the same.

1555

1555, 1577, 1589, 1598-1600

3. Disperses; dissolves. 4. The idea is that excessive heat dries out the body’s “radical” (i.e., fundamental) moisture and thus upsets the balance of the four humors (bodily

fluids: blood, phlegm, bile, and the mythical black bile) that, in premodern physiology, was regarded as the key to good health.

A VOYAGE TO THE ARCTIC, 1577, WITH REFLECTIONS ON RACIAL DIFFERENCE ducated at Eton, George Best (ca. 1555-1584), a navigator, took part in the latter two of the three voyages led by Martin Frobisher to discover a northwest passage to China—a purpose displaced, over time, by that of finding gold in the eastern Canadian arctic. In his account of all three voyages, A true discourse of the late voyages of discovery, for the finding ofapassage to Cathay, Best contextualized his narrative of encounter with the Inuit peoples by appending a treatise on the causes of racial difference. His view, relying on observations drawn from English expeditions to West Africa, reflects a wider shift in theories of human difference away from explanations centered on climate and toward those based on heredity: as Best puts it, blackness is caused not by a particular geographical location but by “the curse and natural infection of blood.” The expeditions to Meta Incognita (“the Unknown Boundary,” now Baffin Island) failed to find the Northwest Passage, and the promising-looking ore they shipped back home proved to contain only fool’s gold. The several Inuit whom Frobisher had kidnapped caused a sensation in England, but soon died of disease. Best himself was killed in a duel.

From A true discourse of the late voyages of discovery, for the finding of a passage to Cathay, by the northwest, under the conduct of Martin Frobisher, General: Before which, as

a necessary preface, is prefixed a twofold discourse containing certain reasons to prove all parts of the world habitable From Experiences and reasons of the sphere, to prove all parts of the world habitable and thereby to confute the position ofthe five zones! First, it may be gathered by experience of our Englishmen in Anno 1553. For Captain Wyndham made a voyage with merchandise to Guinea? and entered 1. The five geographical zones, demarcated by lines of latitude, are the North and South Frigid Zones, the North and South Temperate Zones, and the Torrid Zone. Long-standing theory held

that only the temperate zones were habitable. Best undertakes to refute this view, especially with respect to the Torrid Zone. “Position”: proposition. 2. The European name for the part of the west

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so far within the Torrida Zona that he was in three or four degrees of the equinoctial,*? and his company, abiding there certain months, returned with

gain. Also the Englishmen made another voyage very prosperous and gainful, anno 1554, to the coasts of Guinea, within 3 degrees of the equinoctial. And yet it is reported of a truth? that all the tract from Cape de las Palmas trending by Cape de Tres Puntas,° alongst by Benin, unto the Isle of St. Thomas (which is perpendicular under the equinoctial),’ all that whole bay is more subject to many blooming and smothering heats, with infectious and contagious airs, than any other place in all Torrida Zona:* and the cause thereof is some accidents in the land.” For it is most certain that mountains, seas, woods, and lakes, etc., may cause, through their sundry kind of situation, sundry strange and extraordinary effects, which the reason of the clime otherwise would not give.! | mention these voyages of our Englishmen not so much to prove that Torrida Zona may be, and is, inhabited, as to show their readiness in attempting long and dangerous navigations. We also among us in England have black Moors,” Ethiopians, out of all parts of Torrida Zona, which after a small continuance? can well endure

the cold of our country; and why should not we as well abide the heat of

their country? ~*~ And * * * by the experience of sundry men, yea thousands, travelers and merchants, to the East and West Indies in many places both directly under and hard by the equinoctial, they with one consent affirm that it aboundeth in the middle of Torrida Zona with all manner of grain, herbs, grass, fruit, wood, and cattle* that we have here, and thousands other sorts, far more

wholesome, delectable, and precious than any we have in these northern climates, as very wel! shall appear to him that will read the histories and navigations of such as have traveled Arabia, India intra and extra Gangem,’

the Islands Moluccae, America,° etc., which all lie about the middle of the

Burning Zone, where it is truly reported that the great herbs, as are radish, lettuce, coleworts, borage,’ and such like, do wax ripe, greater, more savory and delectable in taste than ours, within sixteen days after the seed is

coast of Africa extending from Sierra Leone to Benin. “Captain Wyndham”: Thomas Wyndham (1508-1554) led three trading voyages to Africa.

For an account of his disastrous conduct of the

final one—the voyage Best refers to here—see the NAEL Archive. The phrase “returned with gain” (below) glosses over a great deal. 3. The equator. 4, See p. 622. 5. Asa fact; truly. 6. The Cape of the Palms (in the far southeast of what is now Liberia) and Cape Three Points

(in modern Ghana) are headlands on the north-

ern coast of the Gulf of Guinea (on which, see p. 622, n. 1). “Trending by”: skirting. 7. L.e., lies directly under the celestial equator (the plane of which bisects the globe at the terrestrial equator). The island is west of modern

Gabon. 8. The Torrid Zone encircles the middle swath of the globe, extending from the Tropic of Cancer to the Tropic of Capricorn.

9, Irregular features in the landscape. lL. Le., would otherwise be unexpected in such a region,

2. Black Africans (not necessarily Muslims); often, as here, synonymous with “Ethiopians” (a term that was also used loosely). By the 17th century, the adjective and noun were often fused into “Blackmore” or “Blackamore.” 3. Stay.

4, Livestock generally (not just cows). 5. India within the Ganges and without (Latin). divided traditionally geographers European India into two regions: west and east of the great river.

6. Here referring to the parts of the Americas that lie in the Torrid Zone. Moluccae is Indonesian Maluku, also known as the Moluccas or the Spice Islands. 7. A plant used in various comforting or stimulating drinks (cordials). “Coleworts”: cabbages. 8, Best continues with other examples of the incredible fecundity of the Torrid Zone.

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mountains covered with all sorts of trees and fruits, the fairest valleys, the

goodliest pleasant fresh rivers stored with infinite kind of fishes, the thick-

est woods, green and bearing fruit all the whole year, that are in all the

world. And as for gold, silver, and all other kind of metals, all kind of spices and delectable fruits, both for delicacy? and health, are there in such abundance as hitherto they have been thought to have been bred nowhere else but there. And in conclusion, it is now thought that nowhere else but under the equinoctial,! or not far from thence, is the earthly Paradise, and the only place of perfection in this world. Others again imagine the Middle Zone? to be extreme hot because the people of Africa, especially the Ethiopians, are so coal black and their hair like wool curled short, which blackness and curled hair they suppose to come only by the parching heat of the sun, which how it should be possible I cannot see: for even under the equinoctial in America and in the East Indies and in the Islands Moluccae the people are not black, but tawny and white, with long hair uncurled as we have, so that if the Ethiopians’ blackness came by the heat of the sun, why should not those Americans and Indians also be as black as they, seeing the sun is equally distant from them both, they abiding in one parallel?? * * * Therefore to return again to the black Moors, | myself have seen an Ethiopian as black as a coal brought into England, who taking a fair English woman to wife begat a son in all respects as black as the father was, although England were his native country and an English woman his mother: whereby it seemeth this blackness proceedeth rather of some natural infection of that man,* which was so strong that neither the nature of the clime, neither’ the good complexion of the mother concurring,® could anything alter: and therefore we cannot impute it to the nature of the clime. And for a more fresh’ example, our people of Meta Incognita (of whom and for whom this discourse is taken in hand) that were brought this last year into England® were all generally of the same color that many nations be lying in the midst of the Middle Zone. And this their color was not only in the face, which was subject to sun and air, but also in their bodies, which were still? covered with garments as ours are, yea the very sucking child of twelve months’ age had his skin of the very same color that most have under the equinoctial, which thing cannot proceed by reason of the clime, for that they are at least ten degrees more towards the north than we in England are; no, the sun never cometh near their zenith by forty degrees: for in effect, they are within three or four degrees of that which they call the Frozen Zone,! and, as I said, forty

degrees from the Burning Zone: whereby it followeth that there is some other cause than the climate or the sun’s perpendicular reflection that should cause the Ethiopians’ great blackness. And the most probable cause, 9. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Delectation. l.e., somewhere along the equator. The Torrid Zone. In the same parallel of latitude. T.e., the father. Nor. Combining. More recent.

8. On their second voyage, Frobisher’s men kidnapped several Inuit, whom they took with them back to England. For Best's account of Baffin Island and its inhabitants, see p. 630. 9. Always. I. L.e., within a few degrees of the Arctic Circle. “They”: i.e., geographers.

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to my judgment, is that this blackness proceedeth of some natural infection

of the first inhabitants of that country, and so all the whole progeny of? them descended are still polluted with the same blot of infection. Therefore it shall not be far from our purpose to examine the first original of these black men, and how by a lineal descent they have hitherto continued thus black. It manifestly and plainly appeareth by Holy Scripture that after the general inundation and overflowing of the earth there remained no more men alive but Noah and his three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth, who only’ were left to possess and inhabit the whole face of the earth: therefore all the sundry descents that until this present day have inhabited the whole earth must needs come of the offspring either of Shem, Ham, or Japheth, as the only sons of Noah, who all three being white, and their wives also, by course of nature should have begotten and brought forth white children. But the envy of our great and continual enemy the wicked spirit’ is such that, as he could not suffer our old father Adam to live in the felicity and angelic state wherein he was first created, but, tempting him, sought and procured his ruin and fall: so again, finding at this flood none but a father and three sons living, he so caused one of them to transgress and disobey his father’s commandment that after him all his posterity should be accursed. The fact> of disobedience was this: When Noah at the commandment of God had made the ark and entered therein, and the floodgates of heaven were opened so that the whole face of the earth, every tree and mountain, was covered with abundance of water, he straitly commanded his sons and their wives that they should with reverence and fear behold the justice and mighty power of God, and that during the time of the flood while they remained in the ark they should use continency and abstain from carnal copulation with their wives: and many other precepts he gave unto them, and admonitions touching the justice of God in revenging sin, and his mercy in delivering them, who nothing deserved it.© Which good instructions and exhortations notwithstanding, his wicked son Ham disobeyed, and being persuaded that the first child born after the flood (by right and

he, law of nature) should inherit and possess all the dominions of the earth,

contrary to his father’s commandment, while they were yet in the ark used company’ with his wife and craftily went about thereby to disinherit the offspring of his other two brethren: for the which wicked and detestable act, as an example for® contempt of Almighty God and disobedience to par-

who not only ents, God would a son should be born whose name was Cush,

it itself but all his posterity after him should be so black and loathsome that black this of might remain a spectacle of disobedience to all the world. And 2. From. 3. Alone. The biblical account of Noah, his sons, and the Flood is in Genesis 6—10. 4. Satan. 5. Act. In Genesis 9:20—27, the curse on Ham’s posterity results from his having seen his drunken father naked. (After he told Shem and Japheth, they modestly re-covered Noah, walking backward into his tent so as not to see him.) Best gives a dif-

ferent version of the story—a version with no biblical warrant. Although the biblical passage says nothing about blackness, in later centuries Ham's

descendants were commonly thought to be the Africans, their blackness the mark of the curse, and the Genesis passage, in which Noah con-

demns Ham’s son to be “a servant of servants . . . unto his brethren,” a justification for their enslavement.

6. Who (Noah and his family) did not at all (he

said) deserve such mercy.

7. A euphemism for having sex. 8. As a cautionary quences of.

example

of the

conse-

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and cursed Cush came all these black Moors which are in Africa: for after the water was vanished from off the face of the earth and that the land was dry, Shem chose that part of the land to inhabit in which now is called Asia, and Japheth had that which now is called Europa, wherein we dwell, and Africa remained

for Ham

and his black son Cush, and was called Cha-

mesis’ after the father’s name, being perhaps a cursed, dry, sandy, and unfruitful ground fit for such a generation to inhabit in. Thus you see that the cause of the Ethiopians’ blackness is the curse and natural infection of blood and not the distemperature! of the climate; which also may be proved by this example, that these black men are found in all parts of Africa, as well without the Tropics as within, even unto Capo de Buona Speranza’ southward, where, by reason of the sphere, should be the

same temperature that is in Sicilia, Morea, and Candia,’ where all be of

very good complexions. Wherefore I conclude that the blackness proceedeth not of the hotness of the clime but, as I said, of the infection of blood, and

therefore this their arguments gathered of the Africans’ blackness is not able to destroy the temperature* of the Middle Zone. x

Bo

pd

From A true report of such things as happened in the second voyage of Captain Frobisher pretended for the discovery ofanew passage to Cathay, China, and the East India by the northwest. Ann. Dom. 1577 “*“ God having blessed us with so happy a landfall,> we bare into the straits which run in next hand, and somewhat further up to the northward, and came as near the shore as we might for the ice, and upon the eighteenth day of July our general taking the goldfiners® with him, attempted to go on shore with a small rowing pinnace, upon the small island where the ore was taken up, to prove whether there were any store’ thereof to be found, but he could not get in all that island a piece so big as a walnut, where the first was found. But our men which sought the other islands thereabouts found them all to have good store of the ore, whereupon our general with these good tidings returned aboard about ten of the clock at night, and was joyfully welcomed of the company with a volley of shot. He brought eggs, fowls, and a young seal aboard, which the company had killed ashore, and having found upon those islands gins® set to catch fowl, and sticks new cut, with other things, he well perceived that not long before some of the country people had resorted thither. Having therefore found those tokens of the people’s access in those parts, and being in his first voyage well acquainted with their subtle and cruel disposition, he provided well for his better safety, and on Friday the nineteenth of July in the morning early, with his best company of gentlemen and sol9. Best uses the alternate form Cham for “Ham,”

which fits well with “Chamesis,” a name for EthiOpia. Ip Intemperateness,

severity.

2. The Cape of Good

Hope, at the southern

extremity of the continent.

3. Crete. Morea is the Peloponnesian peninsula, the southernmost part of mainland Greece. 4. Temperate climate. 5. At what is now called Frobisher Bay, a deep

inlet in southeastern Baffin Island. Frobisher thought it was a strait—the entrance to the Northwest Passage. 6. Refiners of gold. The main purpose of Frobisher's second and third voyages was to seek out gold mines. 7. Abundance. “Pinnace”: light vessel attending ona larger ship. “Taken up”: i.e., during the previous year’s voyage. 8. Snares.

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diers, to the number of forty persons, went on shore, as well to discover’ the inland and habitation of the people as also to find out some fit harbor for our ships. And passing towards the shore with no small difficulty by reason of the abundance of ice which lay alongst the coast so thick together that hardly any passage through them might be discovered, we arrived at length upon the main of Hall’s greater island,' and found there also as well as in the other small islands good store of the ore. And leaving his boats here with sufficient guard, we passed up into the country about two English miles, and recovered

the top of a high hill, on the top whereof our men

made a column or cross of stones heaped up of a good height together in good sort, and solemnly sounded a trumpet, and said certain prayers kneeling about the ensign, and honored the place by the name of Mount Warwick, in remembrance of the Right Honorable the Lord Ambrose Dudley,

Earl of Warwick,2 whose noble mind and good countenance? in this, as in all other good actions, gave great encouragement and good furtherance. This done, we retired our companies, not seeing anything here worth further discovery, the country seeming barren and full of ragged mountains, and in most parts covered with snow. And thus marching towards our boats, we espied certain of the country people on the top of Mount Warwick with a flag wafting? us back again and making great noise, with cries like the mowing of bulls, seeming greatly desirous of conference with us: whereupon the general being therewith better acquainted, answered them again with the like cries, whereat and with the noise of our trumpets they seemed greatly to rejoice, skipping, laughing, and dancing for joy. And hereupon we made signs unto them, holding

up two fingers, commanding two of our men to go apart from our companies, whereby they might do the like. So that forthwith two of our men and two of theirs met together a good space from company, neither party having their weapons about them. Our men gave them pins and points’ and such trifles as they had. And they likewise bestowed on our men two bow cases and such things as they had. They earnestly desired our men to go up into

ships, their country, and our men offered them like kindness aboard our courtesy. other’s the trusted or admitted seemed) it (as but neither part

Their manner of traffic is thus: they do use to® lay down of their merchandise upon the ground so much as they mean to part withal, and so looking they that the other party with whom they make trade should do the like, come they mart their of like do they if themselves do depart, and then like again, and take in exchange the other's merchandise; otherwise if they in spent, well-near thus being day The depart. and own their not, they take to forthwith haste we retired our companies into our boats again, minding present the for ships: search alongst the coast for some harbor fit for our lay off and necessity thereof was much, considering that all this while they danger great to well as subject continually on between the two lands, being coast the which flaws’ sudden the to as them, of fleeting ice, which environed departure, our perceived people the when But unto. seemeth much subject 9. Explore. 1, Named, the preceding year, after the captain of one of Frobisher’s ships. 2. Dudley (15282-1590), a man distinguished in public service both civil and martial, was the

chief promoter of Frobisher’s explorations.

3. Support. 4, Beckoning. pauluaces: 6. Are accustomed to. “Traffic”: trade. 7. Squalls.

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with great tokens of affection they earnestly called us back again, following us almost to our boats: whereupon our general taking his master* with him, who was best acquainted with their manners, went apart unto two of them,

meaning, if they could lay sure hold upon them, forcibly to bring them aboard, with intent to bestow certain toys? and apparel upon the one, and so to dismiss him with all arguments! of courtesy, and retain the other for an interpreter. The general and his master being met with their two companions together, after they had exchanged certain things the one with the other, one of the savages for lack of better merchandise cut off the tail of his coat (which is a chief ornament among them) and gave it unto our general for a present. But he presently upon a watchword given with his master suddenly laid hold upon the two savages. But the ground underfoot being slippery with the snow on the side of the hill, their handfast failed, and their prey escaping ran away and lightly recovered their bow and arrows, which they had hid not far from them behind the rocks. And being only two savages in sight, they so fiercely, desperately, and with such fury assaulted and pursued our general and his master, being altogether unarmed, and not mistrusting? their subtlety, that they chased them to their boats, and hurt

the general in the buttock with an arrow, who the rather speedily fled back because they suspected a greater number behind the rocks. Our soldiers (which were commanded before to keep their boats) perceiving the danger, and hearing our men calling for shot, came speedily to rescue, thinking there had been a greater number. But when the savages heard the shot of one of our calivers*® (and yet having first bestowed their arrows), they ran away, our men speedily following them. But a servant of my Lord of Warwick, called Nicholas Conger, a good footman, and uncumbered with any furniture,* having only a dagger at his back, overtook one of them, and being a Cornishman and a good wrestler, showed his companion such a Cornish trick that he made his sides ache against the ground for a month after. And so being stayed, he was taken alive and brought away, but the other escaped. Thus with their strange and new prey our men repaired to their boats, and passed from the main to a small island of a mile compass, where they resolved to tarry all night; for even now a sudden storm was grown so great at sea that by no means they could recover? their ships. And here every man refreshed himself with a small portion of victuals which was laid into the boats for their dinners, having neither eat nor drunk all

the day before. But because they knew not how long the storm might last, nor how far off the ships might be put to sea, nor whether they should ever recover them again or not, they made great spare of their victuals, as it greatly behooved them: for they knew full well that the best cheer® the country could yield them was rocks and stones, a hard food to live withal, and the people more ready to eat them than to give them wherewithal to eat. And thus keeping very good watch and ward, they lay there all night upon hard cliffs of snow and ice, both wet, cold, and comfortless.

8. Ship's captain.

3. Light muskets.

9: Trifles. 51. Tokens.

4. Equipment. 5. Get back to.

Suspecting.

on5.

Provisions.

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Upon the mainland over against the Countess’s Island’ we discovered and beheld to our great marvel the poor caves and houses of those country people, which serve them (as it should seem) for their winter dwellings, and are made two fathom’ underground, in compass round like to an oven, being joined fast one by another, having holes like to a fox or cony berry,” to keep and come together. They undertrenched these places with gutters, so that the water falling from the hills above them may slide away without their annoyance: and are seated commonly in the foot of a hill, to shield them better from the cold winds, having their door and entrance ever open towards the south. From the ground upward they build with whales’ bones,

for lack of timber, which bending one over another are handsomely compacted in the top together, and are covered over with sealskins, which, instead of tiles, fence them from the rain. In which house they have only one room, having the one half of the floor raised with broad stones a foot higher than the other, whereon strewing moss, they make their nests to sleep in. They defile these dens most filthily with their beastly feeding, and dwell so long in a place (as we think) until, their sluttishness loathing them,! they are forced to seek a sweeter air and a new seat, and are (no doubt) a dispersed and wandering nation, as the Tartarians,2 and live in hordes and troops

without any certain abode, as may appear by sundry circumstances of our experience.

Here our captive, being ashore with us to declare the use of such things as we saw, stayed himself alone behind the company, and did set up five small sticks round in a circle one by another, with one small bone placed just in the midst of all: which thing when one of our men perceived, he called us back to behold

the matter,

thinking that he had meant

some

charm or witchcraft therein. But the best conjecture we could make thereof was that he would thereby his countrymen should understand that for our five men which they betrayed’ the last year (whom he signified by the five sticks) he was taken and kept prisoner, which he signified by the bone in the midst. For afterwards when we showed him the picture of his countryman which the last year was brought into England (whose counterfeit? we had drawn, with boat and other furniture, both as he was in his own, and

also in English apparel), he was upon the sudden much amazed thereat, and beholding advisedly the same with silence a good while, as though he would strain courtesy whether? should begin the speech (for he thought as him no doubt a lively® creature), at length began to question with him, to suspect with his companion, and, finding him dumb and mute, seemed

him, as one disdainful, and would with a little help have grown into choler’ but a at the matter, until at last, by feeling and handling, he found him wonderdeceiving picture. And then with great noise and cries ceased not ing, thinking that we could make men live or die at our pleasure. plainly And thereupon calling the matter to his remembrance, he gave us men five our of taking the of ge knowled to understand by signs that he had five the d numbere thing, each of manner the the last year, and confessing 7, 8. 9, 1. 2.

Named after the countess of Warwick. Twelve feet. Rabbit burrow. Their squalor becoming unbearable to them. Tartars—a people of Central Asia.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Le., captured. Likeness. Which of them. Living. Anger.

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men upon his five fingers and pointed unto a boat in our ship which was like unto that wherein our men were betrayed: and when we made him signs that they were slain and eaten, he earnestly denied, and made signs to the contrary. 1578, 1598-1600

WITHERINGTON AND LISTER’S VOYAGE TO WEST AFRICA AND SOUTH AMERICA, 1586-87 n his Principal Navigations, Hakluyt published an account written by “John Sarracoll, merchant,” of a voyage financed by the earl of Cumberland in 1586—87. Two ships, under the command of Robert Witherington and Christopher Lister, set out with a combined crew of two hundred men. At sea they joined forces with two other English ships. Abandoning an initial plan to sail along the coast of Spain in search of “some good prize to have sent home to my lord,” they sailed to the west coast of Africa to load up with food and supplies before crossing the Atlantic. In his account of Sierra Leone, Sarracoll describes the English destruction of a town whose beauty and cleanliness had greatly impressed the men. The fleet, whose ultimate destination had been the Pacific, reached the coast of South America, but severe storms, violent skir-

mishes both with the Portuguese colonists and with the native peoples, and shortage of food and water forced them to return to England.

The voyage set out by the right honorable the earl of Cumberland in the year 1586. Intended for the South Sea, but performed no farther than the latitude of 44 degrees to the south of the equinoctial.' Written by Master John Sarracoll, merchant in the same voyage. The 26th day of June, in the year 1586 and in the 28th year of the queen’s majesty’s reign, we departed from Gravesend in two ships: the admiral, called the Red Dragon, and the other the bark Clifford, the one of the burden? of 260 tons, with 130 men, and the other of the burden of 130 tons,

with 70 men. The captain of the admiral was Master Robert Witherington, of the vice-admiral Master Christopher Lister, both being furnished out at the costs and charges of the right honorable the earl of Cumberland, having for their masters* two brethren, the one John Anthony, and the other

William Anthony.

1. Equator. 2. le., the principal ship, called the admiral because it carries the fleet commander. Graves-

end is a seaport on the lower Thames. 3. Carrying capacity, 4. Pilots.

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The 24th of July we came into the sound of Plymouth, and being there constrained by westerly winds to stay till the 17th of August, we then departed with another ship also for our rear admiral, called the Roe, whereof Master Hawes was captain, and a fine pinnace also, called the Dorothy, which was Sir Walter Ralegh’s. We four being out in the sea, met the 20th of August with 16 sails of hulks in the Sleeve,’ who named themselves to be men of Hamborough,° laden and come from Lisbon. Our admiral hailed their admiral with courteous words, willing him to strike his sails, and to come aboard to him only to know some news of the country, but he refused to do so, only struck his flag and took it in. The vice-admiral of the hulks, being ahead, would neither strike flag nor sail, but passed on without budging, whereupon our admiral lent him a piece of ordnance,’ which they repaid double, so that we grew to some little quarrel; whereupon one of the sternmost hulks, being as | suppose more afraid than hurt, struck amain.® Our admiral, being near him, laid him aboard and entered with certain of his men, how many | know not, for that we were giving chase to the windermost? men, thinking our admiral would have come up again to us, to have made them all to have struck: but the weather growing to be very thick and foggy, with small rain, he came not up but kept with another of the hulks, which Captain Hawes had boarded and kept all night, and took out of her some provision that they best liked. They learned of the men that were in the hulk that there were 7 hulks laden in Lisbon with Spaniards’ goods, and because their lading was very rich, they were determined to go about Ireland,' and so they let her go again like a goose with a broken wing. The next day after being the 21st day, we espied 5 sails more, which lay along to the eastwards; but by reason of the night, which then was near at hand, we could hardly come to them. Yet at last we hailed one of the biggest of them, and they told us that they were all of Hamborough: but another said she was of Denmark, so that indeed they knew neither what to say nor what to do. Our admiral being more desirous to follow his course than to linger by chasing the hulks, called us from pursuing them with his trumpet and a piece of ordnance, or else we would have seen what they had been and wherewith they had been laden. The 22nd day because of contrary wind we put into Dartmouth? all four of us, and tarried there seven days. The 29th we departed thence and put out to sea and began our voyage, thinking at the first to have run along the coast of Spain, to see if we could have met with some good prize to have sent home to my lord: but our captain thought it not the best course at the last, but rather kept off in the sea from the coast. And upon Saturday the 17th of September we fell with the coast of Barbary,’ and the 18th haled in with the road of Santa Cruz.* The 21st day we fell with one of the islands of the Canaries, called Fuerteventura. In running alongst this island, we espied upon a hill by the waterside 5. The English Channel; the fleet is making its way west around the south coast of England. “Hulks”: large unwieldy ships.

6. Hamburg.

7. L.e., fired a cannon at the ship, or across its bows. 8. Hastily lowered its sails. 9. Farthest to windward.

1. Evidently they regarded the circuitous route home as being safer than a direct one. 2. Seaport in Devon. _

3. North Africa west of Egypt.

4. City on Tenerife, one of the Canary Islands. “Haled in with the road”: sailed into the sheltered anchorage (roadstead).

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one waving with a white flag, whereupon we manned both our boats and sent them towards the shore, to understand what news. They found them to

be two ragged knaves and one horseman, and they told us that Lanzarote was taken and spoiled® in August by the Turks: when we saw they had nothing else to say, we left them and proceeded on our course, and fell again with the coast of Barbary. The 25th day of September about 10 of the clock we fell with Rio del Oro, standing just under our Tropic:° we anchored in the mouth of it in 8 fathom; the entrance of it is about 2 leagues’ over. And the next day our captain, with the boat, searched the river, and found it to be as broad 14 or 15 leagues up as at the entry of it, but found no town nor habitation, saving that there came down two poor men, and one of them spake good Spanish, and told our captain that certain Frenchmen used to come thither, and laded some ox hides and goats’ hides, but other commodity there was none. We departed thence the 27th day, and the last day of the month being calm, we went aboard our general® and there consented to go for Sierra Leone, to wood and water. * * * The 21st of October we fell with land upon the coast of Guinea. ae

The 23rd day, being Sunday, we came to an anchor in the bay of fresh water, and going ashore with our boat, we spake with a Portugal, who told us that not far off there were Negroes inhabiting, and that in giving to the king a botija’ of wine and some linen cloth, he would suffer us to water and wood at our pleasure. But our captains thinking it not good to give anything for that which they might take freely, landed, and certain of our men with them, whereupon the Portugal and the Negroes ran all away into the woods. Then we returned again into our boats, and presently went and landed in another place, thinking to have fetcht a walk, and so to come to our boats

again. But wandering through a little wood, we were suddenly and unawares upon a town of the Negroes, whereupon they struck up their drum, giving withal a great shout, and off went their arrows as thick as hail. We were in number about 30 calivers,! and 20 with our weapons, which we also let fly into the woods among them, and what hurt we did, we know not. Then we returned to our boats and took wood and water at our pleasure, and reasonable store of fish, and amongst the rest we haled? up a great foul monster, whose head and back were so hard that no sword could enter it:

but being thrust in under the belly in divers places, and much wounded, he bowed a sword in his mouth, as a man would do a girdle? of leather about his hand, and likewise the iron of a boar spear. He was in length about nine foot, and had nothing in his belly but a certain quantity of small stones, to the value of a pottle.4

5. Despoiled, plundered. Lanzarote is another of the Canary Islands. 6. The Tropic of Cancer. The Rio del Oro (River of Gold) is the Niger River, Africa’s third longest, which discharges into the Atlantic at the Gulf of Guinea. 7. A league is about three miles. A fathom is six feet.

8. Le., the admiral—the flagship. 9, Earthenware jug. 1. Soldiers armed with light muskets of that name. 2. Drew. 3. Belt. “Bowed”: bent. 4. le. the amount that would fill a tankard (approximately half a gallon). ‘

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The fourth of November we went on shore to a town of the Negroes, which

stood on the southeast side of the harbor about a saker? shot from the road, which we found to be but lately built: it was of about two hundred houses, and walled about with mighty great trees, and stakes so thick that a rat could hardly get in or out. But as it chanced, we came directly upon a port® which was not shut up, where we entered with such fierceness that the people fled all out of the town, which we found to be finely built after their fashion, and the streets of it so intricate that it was difficult for us to find the way out that we came in at. We found their houses and streets so finely and cleanly kept that it was an admiration’ to us all, for that neither in the houses nor streets was so much dust to be found as would fill an eggshell. We found little in their houses except some mats, gourds, and some earthen pots. Our men at their departure set the town on fire, and it was burnt (for the most part of it) in a quarter of an hour, the houses being covered with reed and straw. After this we searched the country about it, where we found in divers plains good store of rice in stacks, which our men did beat out, and brought aboard in the husk, to the quantity of 14 or 15 tons in both our ships. The 17th day of November we departed from Sierra Leone, directing our course for the Straits of Magellan.* In this harbor divers of our men fell sick of a disease in the belly, which for the time was extreme, but (God be thanked) it was but of small continuance. We found also in divers places of the woods images set upon pins,’ with divers things before them, as eggs, meal, rice, round shot of stones, and divers other things, such as the bar-

barous people had to offer up. The second day of January we had a little sight of land,' being about the height of 28 degrees to the southward of the line.* The 4th day we fell with the shore high and bold, being in 30 degrees and a tierce,’ little more or less. All of it to the northward was a highland, but to the southward it did presently fail, and was a very low land, and all sandy. About six leagues from the shore we sounded and had about fifteen or sixteen fathom water, and black sandy ooze. We thought to have gone to the shore and to have watered, but we could not discern any good harbor, and therefore we cast off to seaward again. The 12th day we found ourselves in 32 degrees and 27 minutes. From the day of the Nativitie of Christ till the 13th day of this month, although the sun was very near unto us, yet we found no want of winds, but variable as

in England, and not so hot but that a man’s shoulders might well disgest a frieze? gown and his belly the best Christmas cheer in England; yet we for our parts had no want, but such as might content honest men. The tenth day being about 8 leagues from the shore, and a little short of the River of Plate,’ it was my good hap to espy a sail, which was a small

5. A type of small cannon. 6. Gate.

7. A wonder.

2. The equator. 3. A third.

4. A kind of coarse woolen cloth, “Disgest”: a vari-

8. Between mainland South America and Tierra del Fuego

ant spelling of “digest”; here, to “swallow,” “stomach.” 5. The Rio de la Plata (River of Silver), an estu-

9. Posts.

ary

1. Le., of South America.

between

modern

Uruguay

and

Argentina.

Buenos Aires is on its southwestern shore.

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Portugal bound for the river, to a town called Santa Fe: and from thence by horse and carts the merchants and part of their goods were to be transported into Peru. This ship, being about the burden of 45 or 50 tons, we took that day about three of the clock, wherein there was for master or pilot an Englishman called Abraham Cocke, born in Leigh.° We examined him and the rest concerning the state of the river, and they told us that there were in the river five towns, some of 70 households and some of more. The first town was about 50 leagues up the river, called Buenos Aires, the rest some 40, some 50 leagues one from another, so that the uppermost town, called Tucaman,

is 230 leagues from the entrance

of the river. In these

towns is great store of corn, cattle, wine, and sundry fruits, but no money of gold or silver: they make a certain kind of slight cloth, which they give in truck of” sugar, rice, marmalade, and sucket,* which were the commodities that this ship had. They had aboard also 45 Negroes, whereof every one in Peru yieldeth 400 ducats’ apiece, and besides these, there were, as passengers in her, two Portugal women and a child. The 1th day we espied another sail, which was the consort of this Portugal, and to him also we gave chase, and took him the same day. He was of the burden of the other, and had in him good store of sugar, marmalade, and suckets, with divers other things, which we noted down [in] our book. In this

ship also we found about 35 Negro women and four or five friars, of which one was an Irish man of the age of three or four and twenty years, and two Portugal women also, which were born in the River of Janeiro.! Both these ships were bought in Brazil, by a young man which was factor? for the bishop of Tucaman,; and the friars were sent for by that bishop to possess a new monastery, which the bishop was then abuilding. The books, beads,* and pictures in her cost (as one of the Portugals confessed) above 1000 ducats. Of these ships we learned that Master John Drake, who went in consort with Master Fenton, had his bark cast away a little short of the River of Plate, where they were taken captives by the savages, all saving them which were slain in the taking. The savages kept them for a time, and used them very hardly, yet at the last John Drake and Richard Fairweather, and two or three more of their company with them got a canoe and escaped, and came to the first town of the Spaniards. Fairweather is married in one of the towns, but John Drake was carried to Tucaman by the pilot of this ship, and was living and in good health the last year. Concerning this voyage of the Portugals, they told us that it was the third voyage that was made into the River of Plate these 30 years. The 12th of January we came to Seal Island, and the 14th day to the Green Island, where going in we found hard aboard the main‘ 8 fathom, 7, and 6, and never less than five fathom. There lies a ledge of rocks in the fair way, betwixt the island and the main, so that you must be sure to borrow hard aboard’ the main and leave the ledge on the larboard side. 6. There are several English towns of this name. 7. In trade for. “Slight”: thin. 8. Fruit preserved in sugar. 9. Gold coins of this name were minted by several European nations. Four hundred ducats is a very large sum.

1. The Rio de Janeiro (River of January), 2. Agent. 3. Rosaries, 4. “Hard aboard the main”: close to the mainland. 5. “Borrow hard aboard”: approach closely to.

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One of the Portugals which we carried along with us in our ship seemed to be a man of experience, and | entered into speech with him concerning the state of the river. He told me that the town of Buenos Aires is from the Green Island about seventy leagues, standing on the south side of the river, and from thence to Santa Fe is 100 leagues, standing on the same side also. At which town their ships do discharge all their goods into small barks, which row and tow up the river to another town called Ascension,° which is from Santa Fe 150 leagues, where the boats discharge on shore, and so pass all the goods by carts and horses to Tucaman, which is in Peru.

1589, 1598-1600 6. Ascuncion, in Paraguay.

AMADAS

AND BARLOWE’S VOYAGE TO VIRGINIA, 1584

he first English voyage to Virginia was commanded by Philip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe. The two captains had been sent forth by Sir Walter Ralegh to discover territories in North America suitable for colonization. In Barlowe’s account, which was published in Hakluyt’s Principal Navigations, they encountered a people living very close to the blessed state of the inhabitants of the Golden Age celebrated by classical poets like Ovid, a state of simplicity, honesty, generosity, and, at least with respect to the English, peace. All the same, when a group of Algonkian hunters suddenly return home, the English colonists immediately reach for their weapons.

From The First Voyage Made to Virginia The second of July we found shoal water, which smelt so sweetly and was so strong a smell as if we had been in the midst of some delicate garden abounding with all kind of odoriferous flowers, by which we were assured that the land could not be far distant. And keeping good watch and bearing but slack sail, the fourth of the same month we arrived upon the coast, which we supposed to be a continent and firm land, and we sailed along the same 120 English miles before we could find any entrance, or river issuing into the sea. The first that appeared unto us we entered, though not without some difficulty, and cast anchor three harquebus-shot! within the haven’s mouth, on the left hand of the same. And after thanks given to God for our safe arrival thither, we manned our boats, and went to view the land

next adjoining and to take possession of the same in the right of the queen's

1. The harquebus was a heavy but portable firearm.

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most excellent Majesty, as rightful queen and princess of the same, and after delivered the same over to your use, according to Her Majesty’s grant and letters patents,” under Her Highness’s Great Seal. Which being performed

according to the ceremonies

used in such enterprises, we viewed

the land about us, being whereas we first landed very sandy and low towards the waterside, but so full of grapes as the very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them. Of which we found such plenty, as well there as in all places else, both on the sand and on the green soil on the hills, as in the plains, as

well on every little shrub, as also climbing towards the tops of high cedars, that I think in all the world the like abundance is not to be found. And myself having seen those parts of Europe that most abound, find such difference as were incredible to be written. We passed from the seaside towards the tops of those hills next adjoining, being but of mean? height, and from thence we beheld the sea on both sides, to the north and to the south, finding no end any of both ways. This land lay stretching itself to the west, which after we found to be but an island of twenty leagues long and not above six miles broad. Under the bank or hill whereon we stood, we beheld the valleys replenished with goodly cedar trees, and having discharged our harquebus-shot, such a flock of cranes (the most part white) arose under us, with such a cry redoubled by many echoes, as if an army of men had shouted all together.

This island had many goodly woods, and full of deer, conies,* hares, and fowl, even in the midst of summer, in incredible abundance. The woods are

not such as you find in Bohemia, Moscovia, or Hyrcania,’ barren and fruitless, but the highest and reddest cedars of the world, far bettering the

cedars of the Azores, of the Indies, or of Lybanus,° pines, cypress, sassafras, the lentisk or the tree that beareth the mastic,’ the tree that beareth

the rind of black cinnamon, of which Master Winter brought from the Straits of Magellan, and many other of excellent smell and quality.’ We remained by the side of this island two whole days before we saw any people of the country. The third day we espied one small boat rowing towards us, having in it three persons. This boat came to the land’s side, four harquebus-shot from our ships; and there two of the people remaining, the third came along the shore side towards us, and we being then all within board, he walked up and down upon the point of the land next unto us. Then the master and the pilot of the admiral,? Simon Ferdinando, and the captain, Philip Amadas, myself, and others, rowed to the land; whose com-

ing this fellow attended, never making any show of fear or doubt. And after he had spoken of many things not understood by us, we brought him, with his own good liking, aboard the ships, and gave hima shirt, a hat, and some

other things, and made him taste of our wine and our meat,! which he liked

very well. And after having viewed both barks he departed and went to his 2. Documents issued by the sovereign granting certain rights to the bearer. “Your use”: i.e., Ralegh’s. 3. Moderate. 4. Rabbits. 5. A region near the Caspian Sea. “Moscovia’:

Muscovy,

the

principality

applied to Russia in general.

6. Lebanon.

of Moscow;

often

7. Resin exuded from the bark of Pistacia lentiscus (“the lentisk”), supposed to have medicinal value.

8. Michael Drayton drew on this passage for his “Ode to the Virginian Voyage” (in the NAEL Archive), which praises “The cedar reaching high / To kiss the sky, / The cypress, pine, / And useful sassafras.” 9. Flagship.

1. Food in general (not necessarily flesh),

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own boat again, which he had left in a little cove or creek? adjoining. As soon as he was two bow-shot into the water he fell to fishing, and in less than half an hour he had laden his boat as deep as it could swim,? with which he came again to the point of the land, and there he divided his fish into two parts, pointing one part to the ship and the other to the pinnace.t Which, after he had (as much as he might) requited the former benefits received, he departed out of our sight. The next day there came unto us divers boats, and in one of them the king’s brother, accompanied with forty or fifty men, very handsome and goodly people, and in their behavior as mannerly and civil as any of Europe. His name was Granganimeo, and the king is called Wingina; the country, Wingandacoa (and now, by Her Majesty, Virginia).> The manner of his coming was in this sort: he left his boats all together, as the first man did, a little from the ships by the shore, and came along to the place over against the ships, followed with forty men. When he came to the place, his servants spread a long mat upon the ground, on which he sat down, and at the other end of the mat four others of his company did the like. The rest of his men stood round about him somewhat afar off. When we came to the shore to him, with our weapons, he never moved from his place, nor any of the other four, nor never mistrusted any harm to be offered from us; but, sitting still, he beckoned us to come and sit by him, which we performed. And, being set, he made all signs of joy and welcome, striking on his head and his breast and afterwards on ours, to show we were all one, smiling and making show the best he could of all love and familiarity. After he had made a long speech unto us we presented him with divers things, which he received very joyfully and thankfully. None of his company durst speak one word all the time; only the four which were at the other end spake one in the other’s ear very softly. The king is greatly obeyed, and his brothers and children reverenced. The king himself in person was at our being there sore wounded in a fight which he had with the king of the next country, called Wingiana, and was shot in two places through the body, and once clean through the thigh, but yet he recovered. By reason whereof, and for that® he lay at the chief town of the country, being six days’ journey off, we saw him not at all. After we had presented this his brother with such things as we thought he liked, we likewise gave somewhat to the other that sat with him on the mat. But presently he arose and took all from them and put it into his own basket, making signs and tokens that all things ought to be delivered unto him, and the rest were but his servants and followers. A day or two after

this we fell to trading with them, exchanging some things that we had for chamois, buff,” and deer skins. When we showed him all our packet of merchandise, ofall things that he saw a bright tin dish most pleased him, which he presently took up and clapt it before his breast, and after made a hole in the brim thereof and hung it about his neck, making signs that it would defend him against his enemies’ arrows. For those people maintain a deadly

2. Inlet. 3. L.e., float.

5. Le., in honor of (“by”) Elizabeth, as the “Virgin Queen.”

4. Light vessel attending on a larger ship. “Point-

6. Because.

ing’: appointing, assigning.

7. Buffalo-hide leather.

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and terrible war with the people and king adjoining. We exchanged our tin dish for twenty skins, worth twenty crowns or twenty nobles;* and a copper kettle for fifty skins, worth fifty crowns. They offered us good exchange for our hatchets and axes, and for knives, and would have given anything for swords; but we would not depart? with any.

We found the people most gentle, loving, and faithful, void of guile and treason, and such as live after the manner of the Golden Age.' The people only care how to defend themselves from the cold in their short winter, and

to feed themselves with such meat as the soil affordeth; their meat is very well sodden,* and they make broth very sweet and savory. Their vessels are earthen pots, very large, white, and sweet; their dishes are wooden platters of sweet timber. Within the place where they feed was their lodging, and within that their idol which they worship, of which they speak incredible things. While we were at meat, there came in at the gates two or three men eis their bows and arrows from hunting, whom hen we espied we began to look one

towards another, and offered? to reach our weapons.

But as

soon as she* espied our mistrust, she was very much moved, and caused some of her men to run out, and take away their bows and arrows and break them, and withal beat the poor fellows out of the gate again. When we departed in the evening and would not tarry all night, she was very sorry, and gave us into our boat our supper half-dressed,* pots and all, and brought us to our boat's side, in which we lay all night, removing the same a pretty® distance from the shore. She perceiving our jealousy’ was much grieved, and sent divers men and thirty women to sit all night on the bank’s side by us, and sent us into our boats fine mats to cover us from the rain, using very many words to entreat us to rest in their houses. But because we were few men, and if we had miscarried the voyage had been in verygreat danger, we durst not adventure anything, although there was no cause of doubt.® For a more kind and loving paenla he cannot be found in the world, as far as we have hitherto ia trial.” ae

BY

We brought home also two of the savages, being lusty! men, whose names were Wanchese and Manteo. 1589

8. “Crowns” and “nobles” are gold coins (see the appendix “British Money”). Om Part. 1. Drayton's “Ode” picks up on this reference to the Golden Age.

2. Boiled.

3. Moved.

4. 5. 6. 7.

The wife of Granganimeo, the king’s brother. Half-prepared. Considerable. Suspicion.

8. Fear.

9. Experience, 1. Vigorous.

REPORT

HARIOT’S homas

Hariot

REPORT

(1560-1621),

ON

VIRGINIA

ON VIRGINIA,

mathematician,

astronomer,

|

643

1585

and surveyor in the

service of Sir Walter Ralegh, was observing sunspots and using a telescope at about the same time as Galileo; he also made important discoveries in algebra. He accompanied Sir Richard Grenville’s expedition to Virginia in 1585 and wrote an account of it intended to promote colonization. He describes the geography, climate, vegetation, wildlife, and especially, inhabitants

of the New World, about

whom the English were intensely curious. Reports had begun to circulate in England about tensions with the Algonkian Indians, on whom the colonists were almost completely dependent for food, and Hariot’s brief ethnographic observations sketch the grounds for reassurance that the natives “are not to be feared.”

From A brief and true report of the new-found land of Virginia! Of the commodities there found and to be raised, as well merchantable as others OF THE

NATURE

AND

MANNERS

OF THE

PEOPLE

It resteth? I speak a word or two of the natural inhabitants, their natures and manners, leaving large discourse thereof until time more convenient hereafter: now only so farforth as that you may know how that they in respect of troubling our inhabiting and planting? are not to be feared, but that they shall have cause both to fear and love us that shall inhabit with them. They are a people clothed with loose mantles made of deerskins, and aprons of the same round about their middles, all else naked, of such a dif-

ference of statures only as we in England,* having no edge tools or weapons of iron or steel to offend us withal, neither know they how to make any. Those weapons that they have are only bows made of witch hazel and arrows of reeds, flat-edged truncheons also of wood about a yard long, neither have they anything to defend themselves but targets* made of barks, and some armors made of sticks wickered together with thread. Their towns are but small, and near the seacoast but few, some containing but ten or twelve houses, some twenty; the greatest that we have seen hath been but of thirty houses. If they be walled, it is only done with barks of trees made fast to stakes, or else with poles only fixed upright, and close one by another. Their houses are made of small poles, made fast at the tops in round form after the manner as is used in many arbories in our gardens of England; in

most towns, covered with barks, and in some with artificial’ mats made of

1. For an account of the first expedition to Virginia, see Philip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe, on p. 639. One of the illustrations from Hariot’s Report is reproduced in the color insert in this volume.

3. Establishing colonies. 4, Le., the variability of height among them is similar to that among the English. 5. Shields. “Arbories”: (i.e., woven). 6. Manufactured

2. Remains that.

orchards.

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Algonkian Weroans. In 1590, Hariot’s Brief and True Report was reprinted, in Frankfurt, by Theodor de Bry, who added copperplate engravings based on watercolors by the expedition’s highly skilled artist and mapmaker, John White. This engraving depicts two Algonkian Weroans, or great lords, with their weapons. For one of White’s remarkable watercolors, see the color insert.

long rushes, from the tops of the houses down to the ground. The length of them is commonly double to the breadth; in some places they are but twelve and sixteen yards long, and in other some we have seen, of four-and-twenty. In some places of the country, one only town belongeth to the government of a wiroans or chief lord, in other some two or three, in some six, eight, and

more. The greatest wiroans that yet we had dealing with had but eighteen towns in his government and able to make’ not above seven or eight hundred fighting men at the most. The language of every government is different from any other, and the further they are distant, the greater is the difference. Their manner of wars amongst themselves is either by sudden surprising one another, most commonly about the dawning of the day, or moonlight, or else by ambushes or some subtle devices. Set battles are very rare, except it fall out where there are many trees, where either part may have some hope of defense, after the delivery of every arrow, in leaping behind some or other. If there fall out any wars between us and them, what their fight is likely to be, we having advantages against them so many manner of ways, as by our discipline, our strange weapons and devices else, especially ordnance® great and small, it may easily be imagined: by the experience we have had in some places, the turning up of their heels against us in running away was their best defense. 7. Muster.

8. Artillery.

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In respect of us they are a people poor, and for want of skill and judgment in the knowledge and use of our things do esteem our trifles before things of greater value. Notwithstanding, in their proper? manner (considering the want of such means as we have) they seem very ingenious. For although they have no such tools nor any such crafts, sciences, and arts as we, yet in those things they do, they show excellency of wit.! And by how much they upon due consideration shall find our manner of knowledges and crafts to exceed theirs in perfection, and speed for doing or execution, by so much the more is it probable that they should desire our friendship and love, and have the greater respect for pleasing and obeying us. Whereby may be hoped, if means of good government be used, that they may in short time be brought to civility and the embracing of true religion. Some religion they have already, which although it be far from the truth, yet being as it is, there is hope it may be the easier and sooner reformed. They believe that there are many gods, which they call mantéac, but of different sorts and degrees, one only chief and great god, which hath been from all eternity. Who, as they affirm, when he purposed to make the world, made first other gods of a principal order to be as means and instruments to be used in the creation and government to follow, and after, the

sun, moon, and stars as petty gods, and the instruments of the other order more principal. First, they say, were made waters, out of which by the gods was made all diversity of creatures that are visible or invisible. For mankind, they say a woman was made first, which, by the working of one of the gods, conceived and brought forth children. And in such sort,

they say, they had their beginning. But how many years or ages have passed since, they say they can make no relation, having no letters? nor other such means as we to keep records of the particularities of times past, but only tradition from father to son. They think that all the gods are of human shape, and therefore they represent them by images in the forms of men, which they call kewasowok; one alone is called kewas: them they place in houses appropriate, or temples, which they call machicomuck, where they worship, pray, sing, and make many times offering unto them. In some machicomuck we have seen but one kewas, in some two, and in other some three. The common sort think them to be also gods. They believe also the immortality of the soul, that after this life as soon as the soul is departed from the body, according to the works it hath done, it is either carried to heaven, the habitacle* of gods, there to enjoy perpetual bliss and happiness, or else to a great pit or hole, which they think to be in the furthest parts of their part of the world toward the sunset, there to burn continually. The place they call Popogusso. For the confirmation of this opinion, they told me two stories of two men that had been lately dead and revived again. The one happened, but few years before our coming into the country, of a wicked man, which having been dead and buried, the next day the earth of the grave being seen to move, was taken up again; who made declaration where his soul had been—

that is to say, very near entering into Popogusso, had not one of the gods saved him and gave him leave to return again and teach his friends what

9. Own.

1. Intelligence.

2. Writing.

3. Habitation.

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they should do to avoid that terrible place of torment. The other happened in the same year we were there, but in a town that was sixty miles from us, and it was told me for strange news that one being dead, buried, and taken up again as the first, showed that although his body had lain dead in the grave, yet his soul was alive and had traveled far in a long broad way, on both sides whereof grew most delicate and pleasant trees, bearing more rare and excellent fruits than ever he had seen before or was able to express, and at length came to most brave* and fair houses, near which he met his father that had been dead before, who gave him great charge to go back and show his friends what good they were to do to enjoy the pleasures of that place, which when he had done he should after come again. What subtlety’ soever be in the wiroances and priests, this opinion worketh so much in many of the common and simple sort of people that it maketh them have great respect to their governors, and also great care what they do, to avoid torment after death and to enjoy bliss; although notwithstanding there is punishment ordained for malefactors, as stealers, whoremongers, and other sorts of wicked-doers, some punished with death, some with forfeitures, some with beating, according to the greatness of the facts.° And this is the sum of their religion, which I learned by having special familiarity with some of their priests. Wherein they were not so sure grounded, nor gave such credit to their traditions and stories, but through conversing with us they were brought into great doubts of their own,’ and no small admiration of ours, with earnest desire in many to learn more than we had means, for want of perfect utterance in their language, to express. Most

things they saw with us, as mathematical

instruments,

sea com-

passes, the virtue of the lodestone® in drawing iron, a perspective glass whereby was showed many strange sights, burning glasses,’ wildfire,! works, guns, books, writing and reading, spring-clocks that seem to go of themselves, and many other things that we had, were so strange unto them, and so far exceeded their capacities to comprehend the reason and means how they should be made and done, that they thought they were rather the works of gods than of men, or at the leastwise they had been given and taught us of the gods. Which made many of them to have such opinion of us, as that if they knew not the truth of God and religion already, it was rather to be had from us whom God so specially loved, than from a people that were so simple as they found themselves to be in comparison of us. Whereupon greater credit was given unto that we spoke of concerning such matters. Many times and in every town where I came, according as I was able, I made declaration of the contents of the Bible, that therein was set forth the true and only God and his mighty works, that therein was contained the true doctrine of salvation through Christ, with many particularities of miracles and chief points of religion, as I was able then to utter, and thought fit for the time. And although I told them the book materially and of itself was not of any such virtue as I thought they did conceive, but only the doctrine therein contained, yet would many be glad to touch it, to embrace it, to kiss 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

Fine, splendid. Sophistication. Deeds. “Forfeitures”: fines. Le., of their own religion. Magnet. “Virtue”: power. Concave mirrors used to concentrate

the

sun’s rays. “Perspective glass”: an early telescope Hariot had devised. . 1. A composition of highly flammable substances, easy to ignite and very difficult to extinguish, used in warfare.

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it, to hold it to their breasts and heads, and stroke over all their body with it, to show their hungry desire of that knowledge which was spoken of. The wiroans with whom we dwelt, called Wingina, and many of his people would be glad many times to be with us at our prayers, and many times call upon us both in his own town, as also in others whither he sometimes accompanied us, to pray and sing psalms, hoping thereby to be partaker of the same effects which we by that means also expected. Twice this Wiroans was so grievously sick that he was like to die, and as he lay languishing, doubting of any help by his own priests and thinking he was in such danger for offending us and thereby our God, sent for some of us to pray and be a means to our God that it would please him either that he might live, or after death dwell with him in bliss; so likewise were the

requests of many others in the like case. On a time also when their corn began to wither by reason of a drought which happened extraordinarily, fearing that it had come to pass by reason that in something they had displeased us, many would come to us and desire us to pray to our God of England that he would preserve their corn, promising that when it was ripe we also should be partakers of the fruit. There could at no time happen any strange sickness, losses, hurts, or any other cross? unto them, but that they would impute to us the cause or means thereof, for offending or not pleasing us. One other rare and strange accident,’ leaving others, will I mention before I end, which moved the whole

country that either knew or heard of us to have us in wonderful admiration. There was no town where we had any subtle device practiced against us, we leaving it unpunished or not revenged (because we sought by all means possible to win them by gentleness), but that within a few days after our departure from every such town the people began to die very fast, and many in short space, in some towns about twenty, in some forty, and in one six

score, which in truth was very many in respect of* their numbers. This happened in no place that we could learn, but where we had been, where they used some practice against us, and after such time. The disease also was so strange that they neither knew what it was nor how to cure it, the like by report of the oldest men in the country never happened before, time out of mind—a thing specially observed by us, as also by the natural inhabitants themselves. Insomuch that when some of the inhabitants which were our friends, and especially the wiroans Wingina, had observed such effects in four or five towns to follow their wicked practices, they were persuaded that it was the work of our God through our means, and that we by him might kill and slay whom

we would without weapons,

and not come

near them.

And thereupon when it had happened that they had understanding that any of their enemies had abused us in our journeys, hearing that we had wrought no revenge with our weapons, and fearing upon some cause the matter should so rest, did come and entreat us that we would be a means to our God that they, as others that had dealt ill with us, might in like sort die,

alleging how much it would be for our credit and profit, as also theirs, and hoping furthermore that we would do so much at their requests in respect of the friendship we professed them. 2. Affliction. 3, Occurrence.

4. In proportion to,

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Whose entreaties although we showed that they were ungodly, affirming that our God would not subject himself to any such prayers and requests of men—that indeed all things have been and were to be done according to his good pleasure as he had ordained, and that we to show ourselves his true servants ought rather to make petition for the contrary, that they with them might live together with us, be made partakers of his truth, and serve him in righteousness, but notwithstanding in such sort that we refer that, as all other things, to be done according to his divine will and pleasure, and as by his wisdom he had ordained to be best—yet because the effect fell out so suddenly and shortly after according to their desires, they thought nevertheless it came to pass by our means, and that we in using such speeches unto them did but dissemble the matter, and therefore came unto us to give us thanks in their manner, that although we satisfied them not in promise, yet in deeds and effect we had fulfilled their desires. This marvelous accident in all the country wrought so strange opinions of us that some people could not tell whether to think us gods or men, and the rather because that all the space of their sickness there was no man of ours known to die, or that was specially sick: they noted also that we had no women amongst us, neither that we did care for any of theirs. Some therefore were of opinion that we were not born of women, and therefore not mortal, but that we were men of an old generation many years past, then risen again to immortality. Some would likewise seem to prophesy that there were more of our generation yet to come, to kill theirs and take their places, as some thought the purpose was, by’ that which was already done. Those that were immediately to come after us they imagined to be in the air, yet invisible and without bodies, and that they by our entreaty and for the love of us did make the people to die in that sort as they did, by shooting invisible bullets into them. To confirm this opinion, their physicians (to excuse their ignorance in curing the disease) would not be ashamed to say, but earnestly make the simple people believe, that the strings of blood that they sucked out of the sick bodies were the strings wherewithal the invisible bullets were tied and cast. Some also thought that we shot them ourselves out of our pieces® from the place where we dwelt, and killed the people in any town that had offended us as we listed,’ how far distant from us soever it were. And other

some said that it was the special work of God for our sakes (as we ourselves have cause in some sort to think no less, whatsoever some do or may imagine to the contrary), specially some astrologers, knowing of the eclipse of the sun which we saw the same year before in our voyage thitherward, which unto them appeared very terrible; and also of a comet which began to appear but a few days before the beginning of the said sickness. But to exclude them from being the special causes of so special an accident, there are further reasons than I think fit at this present to be alleged. These their opinions I have set down the more at large, that it may appear unto you that there is good hope they may be brought through discreet dealing and government to the embracing of the truth, and consequently to honor, obey, fear, and love us. 5. Judging by. 6. Firearms.

7. As we pleased.

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And although some of our company towards the end of the year showed themselves too fierce in slaying some of the people in some towns, upon causes that of our part might easily enough have been borne withal, yet notwithstanding, because it was on their part justly deserved, the alteration of their opinions generally and for the most part concerning us is the less to be doubted.* And whatsoever else they may be, by carefulness of ourselves need nothing at all to be feared. 1588, 1589, 1590 8. Feared.

ACGIFT“FOR: THE SULTAN

1599

orn in Lancashire, Thomas Dallam (1575-1630?) apprenticed at the Blacksmiths’ Company of London and eventually became the preeminent organ builder in England, constructing elaborate, self-playing instruments automated by clockwork. After hearing him perform at Whitehall, Elizabeth I commissioned one of these magnificent organs from Dallam and sent him to present it to Mehmed III, the Ottoman Sultan, in Istanbul. By this extraordinary gift she hoped to facilitate a diplomatic mission designed to expand commercial ties with the Turks. In a diary uncovered only in the nineteenth century, Dallam describes his journey through the eastern Mediterranean, his performance at the imperial palace before the Sultan and his court, and even an illicit glimpse into the Sultan’s harem. Dallam’s encounters with his Muslim hosts along the way are often tense—he momentarily fears that, as he performs, his head will be sliced off by the Sultan—but they are marked by a mutual fascination. Though he was enthusiastic about his experience of what seemed to him “another world,” Dallam politely refused the Sultan’s entreaties to remain at his court, instead returning to England with a much-enhanced reputation.

From A brief relation of my travel from the royal city of London towards the Straits of Mare Mediterraneum,!

and what happened by the way The 25[th of June] we saw afar off the famous island called the Rhodes, the which in times past hath been kept by Christian knights, but now inhabited

by Turks.?

1. Dallam’s voyage took him through the Strait of Gibraltar at the western end of the Mediterra-

nean Sea (“Mare Mediterraneum’; Latin); the Dardanelles Strait linking the Aegean Sea to the Sea of Marmara; and finally to Constantinople, at the southern end of the Bosporus Strait.

2. The

Isle of Rhodes—in

the southeastern

Aegean Sea, off the coast of Turkey—was

con-

quered by forces of the Knights Hospitaller (a Roman Catholic military order) in 1309 and controlled by them as the Knights of Rhodes until it fell to a Turkish siege, in 1522.

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Coming to an anchor near unto the walls of the town, there we found in the road? a galleon of the Great Turk’s, the biggest ship he hath, about one thousand ton, a very cart,’ a ship of no strength; yet was she richly laden, and came from Alexandria. We were no sooner come to an anchor but the Turks began to come aboard us, so that the very first day there came aboard us not so few as five hundred rude Turks, and likewise every day that we stayed there they ceased not.

The next day * * * the Captain Pasha, governor of the town,’ being gone abroad * * * on some great business, the Chia® his deputy, who for the time was Captain, he, with the chiefest men of the town, came aboard our ship, and she was trimmed up in as handsome manner as we could for the time. Our gunroom’ was one of the fairest rooms in the ship, and pleasant to come into. In the gunroom I had a pair of virginals,® the which our Master Gunner, to make the better show, desired me to set them open. When the Turks and Jews came in and saw them, they wondered what it should be; but

when I played on them, then they wondered more. Divers’ of them would take me in their arms and kiss me, and wish that I would dwell with them. a

x

xe

The twentieth day [of August], being Monday, we began to look into our work;! but when we opened our chests we found that all gluing work was clean decayed, by reason that it had lain above six months in the hold of our ship, which was but newly built, so that the extremity of the heat in the hold of the ship, with the working of the sea and the hotness of the country, was the cause that all gluing failed; likewise divers of my metal pipes were bruised and broken. When our Ambassador, Mr. William Aldridge,? and other gentlemen see in what case it was in, they were all amazed, and said that it was not worth

iid.* My answer unto our Ambassador and to Mr. Aldridge at this time I will omit; but when Mr. Aldridge heard what I said, he told me that if I did make it perfect he would give me, of his own purse, 15li.;4 so about my work I went. *

a

x

The Grand Seignior,’ being seated in his chair of state, commanded silence.

All being quiet, and no noise at all, the present began to salute the Grand

3. Roadstead, harbor. Dallam spells it “Roode” and calls the island “the Roodes,” suggesting he misunderstood the etymology of its name (which is actually from a Greek word of uncertain origin). 4. A mere transport vessel. 5. Le., of the city of Rhodes. “Pasha”: the title given to high-ranking officers of the Ottoman Empire. 6. Transliterating a Turkish word.

7. In warships, the compartment occupied by the gunner and his mates. 8. A virginal is a small, portable keyboard instrument of the harpsichord family, set in a box or case. A single one was often called a “pair of virginals,” perhaps referring to instruments with two registers.

9. Several. 1. The English ship having arrived at Constantinople on the 15th, Dallam and those assisting him now turned to reassembling the organ— which had been disassembled and packed away for the voyage—for presentation to the Sultan. 2. The Ambassador was Sir Henry Lello. William Aldridge was the English consul at Chios, an island off the Turkish coast of the Aegean Sea. 3. Twopence (d. is from Latin denarius, a small Roman coin), “Case”: condition. “Amazed”: stunned; confounded. 4. “li”: pound(s) (from the Latin libra): now written as £.

5. Sultan Mehmed III, to whom the organ was presented (August 25).

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Seignior; for when I left it I did allow a quarter of an hour for his coming thither. First the clock struck 22; then the chime of 16 bells went off, and

played a song of 4 parts.° That being done, two personages which stood upon two corners of the second story, holding two silver trumpets in their hands, did lift them to their heads and sounded a tantara.’ Then the music

went off,® and the organ played a song of 5 parts twice over. In the top of the organ, being 16 foot high, did stand a holly bush full of blackbirds and thrushes, which at the end of the music did sing and shake their wings. Divers other motions there was which the Grand Seignior wondered at. Then the Grand Seignior asked the Coppagaw’ if it would ever do the like again. He answered that it would do the like again at the next hour. Quoth he:' “I will see that.” In the meantime the Coppagaw, being a wise man, and doubted whether I had so appointed it or no, for he knew that it would go of itself but 4 times in 24 hours, so he came unto me, for I did stand under the

house side,* where I might hear the organ go, and he asked me if it would go again at the end of the next hour; but I told him that it would not, for I did think the Grand Seignior would not have stayed so long by it; but if it would please him, that when the clock had struck he would touch a little pin with his finger, which before | had showed him, it would go at any time. Then he said that he would be as good as his word to the Grand Seignior. When the clock began to strike again, the Coppagaw went and stood by it; and when the clock had struck 23, he touched that pin, and it did the like as it did before. Then the Grand Seignior said it was good. He sat very near unto it, right before the keys, where a man should play on it by hand. He asked why those keys did move when the organ went and nothing did touch them. He told him that by those things it might be played on at any time. Then the Grande Seignior asked him if he did know any man that could play on it. He said, “No, but he that came with it could, and he is here with-

out the door.” “Fetch him hither,” quoth the Grand Seignior, “and let me see how he doth it.” Then the Coppagaw opened that door which I went out at, for I stood near unto it. He came and took me by the hand, smiling upon me; but I bid my dragoman? ask him what I should do, or whither I should go. He answered that it was the Grand Seignior’s pleasure that I should let him see me play on the organ. So I went with him. When I came within the door, that which I did see was very wonderful unto me. I came in directly upon the Grand Seignior’s right hand, some 16 of my paces from him, but he would not turn his head to look upon me. He sat in great state, yet the sight of him was nothing in comparison of the train? that stood behind him, the sight whereof did make me almost to think that I was in another world. The Grand Seignior sat still, beholding the present which was before him, and I stood dazzling my eyes with looking upon his people that stood behind him, the which was four hundred persons in number. Two hundred of them were his principal pages, the youngest of them 16 years of age, some 20, “secret”) has its old sense of one entrusted with

6. Le., in four-part counterpoint.

private or secret matters.

7. Fanfare or flourish of trumpets.

8. Sounded. 9, Literally, “Gatekeeper”; a high official who evidently controlled access to the Sultan’s person. Earlier Dallam had explained that the Coppagaw is “the Grand Seignoir’s secretary,” where “secretary”

(ultimately

from

Latin

secretum,

1. The Grand Seignior. 2. Dallam, not having been allowed into the royal presence, was listening from outside. 3. Interpreter. 4. Retinue.

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and some 30. They were appareled in rich cloth of gold made in gowns to the midleg; upon their heads little caps of cloth of gold and some cloth of tissue;> great pieces of silk about their waists instead of girdles; upon their legs Cordovan buskins,° red. Their heads were all shaven, saving’ that behind their ears did hang a lock of hair like a squirrel’s tail; their beards shaven, all saving their upper lips. Those 200 were all very proper® men, and Christians born. The third hundred were dumb men, that could neither hear nor speak, and they were likewise in gowns of rich cloth of gold and Cordovan buskins; but their caps were of violet velvet, the crown

of them made

like a

leather bottle, the brims divided into five peaked corners. Some of them had hawks in their fists.? The fourth hundred were all dwarfs, big-bodied men but very low of stature. Every dwarf did wear a scimitar by his side, and they were also appareled in gowns of cloth of gold. When [ had stood almost sight, I heard the Grand near unto him. Then the about me and lay it down

one quarter of an hour beholding this wonderful Seignior speak unto the Coppagaw, who stood Coppagaw came unto me and took my cloak from upon the carpets, and bid me go and play on the

organ; but I refused to do so, because the Grand Seignior sat so near the

place where I should play that | could not come at it but I must needs turn my back towards him and touch his knee with my breeches,' which no man, in pain of death, might do, saving only the Coppagaw. So he smiled, and let me stand a little. Then the Grand Seignior spoke again, and the Coppagaw, with a merry countenance, bid me go with a good courage, and thrust me on. When I came very near the Grand Seignior, | bowed my head as low as my knee, not moving my cape, and turned my back right towards him, and touched his knee with my breeches. He sat in a very rich chair of state, upon his thumb a ring with a diamond in it half an inch square, a fair scimitar by his side, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. He sat so right behind me that he could not see what I did; therefore he

stood up, and his Coppagaw removed his chair to one side, where he might see my hands; but, in his rising from his chair he gave me a thrust forwards, which he could not otherwise do, he sat so near me; but I thought he had

been drawing his sword to cut off my head. I stood there playing such thing as I could until the clock struck, and then | bowed my head as low as I could, and went from him with my back towards him. As I was taking of my cloak, the Coppagaw came unto me and bid me stand still and let my cloak lie; when I had stood a little while, the Coppagaw bid me go and cover the keys of the organ; then I went close to the Grand Seignior again, and bowed myself, and then I went backwards to my 5. Rich multicolored cloth, often interwoven with gold or silver. 6. Boots made of leather from Cordova, Spain. “Girdles”: belts. 7. Except. 8. Handsome.

9. The deaf-mutes’ services to the Sultan included strangling nineteen of his brothers and halfbrothers; they were executed because they were potential rivals for his throne. 1. Pants extending to just below the knees.

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cloak. When the company saw me do so they seemed to be glad, and laughed. Then I saw the Grand Seignior put his hand behind him full of gold, which the Coppagaw received, and brought unto me forty and five pieces of gold called chickers,* and then was I put out again where I came in, being not a little joyful of my good success. a8

The 12 [October], being Friday, | was sent for to the court, and also the Sunday and Monday following, to no other end but to show me the Grand Seignior’s privy chambers,’ his gold and silver, his chairs of state; and he that showed me them would have me to sit down in one of them, and then

to draw that sword out of the sheath with the which the Grand Seignior doth crown his king.’ When he had showed me many other things which I wondered at, then, crossing through a little square court paved with marble, he pointed me to go to a grate in a wall, but made me a sign that he might not go thither himself. When I came to the grate the wall was very thick, and grated on both the sides with iron very strongly; but through that grate I did see thirty of the Grand Seignior’s concubines that were playing with a ball in another court. At the first sight of them I thought they had been young men, but when I saw the hair of their heads hang down on their backs, platted® together with a tassel of small pearl hanging in the lower end of it, and by other plain tokens, I did know them to be women, and very pretty ones indeed. They wore upon their heads nothing but a little cap of cloth of gold, which did but cover the crown of her head; no bands about their necks, nor

anything but fair chains of pearl and a jewel hanging on their breast, and jewels in their ears; their coats were like a soldier's mandilion,’ some of red satin and some of blue and some of other colors, and girded like a lace of

contrary color.’ They wore breeches of scammatie, a fine cloth made of cotton wool, as white as snow and as fine as lawn;? for I could discern the skin

of their thighs through it. These breeches came down to their midleg; some

of them did wear fine Cordovan buskins, and some had their legs naked,

with a gold ring on the small of her leg; on her foot a velvet pantofle! 4 or 5 inches high. I stood so long looking upon them that he which had showed me all this kindness began to be very angry with me. He made a wry mouth, and stamped with his foot to make me give over looking; the which I was very loath to do, for that sight did please me wondrous well. Then I went away with this adjemoglan? to the place where we left my dragoman or interpreter, and I told my interpreter that I had seen 30 of the Grand Seignior’s concubines. But my interpreter advised me that by no

2. A variant of “sequins,” Italian gold coins whose name was also applied to Turkish coins more properly called “sultanins.” 3. Although Mehmed III valued the organ, his son and successor, Ahmed I, did not: he had it destroyed. 4. The Sultan’s private quarters. 5. le., of one of the constituent kingdoms of his empire. 6. Plaited, braided.

7. A loose coat or cloak. 8. Edged with ornamental braid of a contrasting color. 9, Akind of linen, resembling cambric. 1. A cork-soled, high-heeled shoe. 2. Son of a stranger (literal translation); either a

prisoner of war or a captive Christian taken when young. At the Sultan’s court adjemoglans performed various servile offices considered beneath the dignity of a Turk.

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means I should speak of it whereby any Turk might hear of it; for if it were known to some Turks, it would [be] present? death to him that showed me

them. He durst not look upon them himself. Although I looked so long upon them, they saw not me, neither? all that while looked towards that place. If they had seen me, they would all have come presently thither to look upon me, and have wondered as much at me, or how I came thither, as I did to see them.

1599-1600

1893

3. Immediate.

4. Nor.

THE GENERAL HISTORY OF ite LURKS 1605 ichard Knolles (ca. 1545-1610) slaked the growing thirst in late Elizabethan England for information about the Islamic world when he published The General History of the Turks (1603), the first major description of the Ottoman Empire in English. Shakespeare likely used it as a source for Othello, and, two centuries later,

Lord Byron credited “Old Knolles” with “the Oriental coloring which is observed in my poetry.” The situation Knolles depicts is one of Ottoman superiority over Christian Europe, reflecting the geopolitical anxiety felt by Europeans throughout the sixteenth century and after. To Knolles, the Turks are “the scourge of God and present terror of the world.” However, this alarmist frame belies both his enormous volume’s

careful consideration of Turkish society from eastern sources and his frequent admiration for Ottoman

success.

From The general history of the Turks, from the first beginning of that nation to the rising of the Ottoman family From The author's induction to the Christian reader

unto the history of the Turks following The long and still declining state of the Christian commonweal, with the utter ruin and subversion of the Empire of the East! and many other most glorious kingdoms and provinces of the Christians, never to be sufficiently lamented, might with the due consideration thereof worthily move even a right stony heart to ruth:* but therewith also to call to remembrance the dishonor done unto the blessed name of our Savior Christ Jesus, the desolation

of his Church here militant upon earth,’ the dreadful danger daily threatened unto the poor remainder thereof, the millions of souls cast headlong 1. The Eastern Roman Empire (later known as the Byzantine Empire), which was severed from the collapsing Western Empire in the 4th century c.E., endured until 1453, when its capital, Constantinople (formerly Byzantium and now Istan-

bul), fell to a Turkish siege. 2. Pity. 3. In Christian theology, the “Church Militant” is the community of all living Christians, considered as fighting against evil.

GENERAL

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|

(olay)

into eternal destruction, the infinite numbers of woeful Christians (whose grievous groanings

under the heavy yoke of infidelity? no tongue is able to express), with the carelessness of the great for the redress thereof, might give just cause unto any good Christian to sit down and with the heavy Prophet to say, as he did of Jerusalem, “O how hath the Lord darkened the daughter of Zion in his wrath? and cast down from heaven unto the earth the beauty of Israel, and remembered not his footstool in the day of his wrath?” All which miseries (with many others so great, as greater there can none be) the prince of darkness and author of all mischief® hath by the persecuting princes of all ages, and ancient heretics,

BE GENERALI HISTORIES ; ict of the Turkes from’ The firfte SF Beginning i ft Nation. iothe msin Of the oman Fartihe with

ail the notable expeditions he Christigns Ps ain. “Together wath

THE LIVES AND CONZ As of theOTHOMAN.

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his ministers, labored from time

to time to bring upon the Church of God, to the obscuring of his blessed name and utter subversion of his most sacred word; but yet by none, no not by them all together, so much prevailed as by the false Prophet

Mahomet,

born

The title page of Richard Knolles’s General History of the Turks (1603) was engraved by Laurence Johnson and features a European on the left and an Ottoman Turk on the right. Neither the Christian nor the Muslim is given precedence over the other.

in an

unhappy’ hour, to the great destruction of mankind: whose most gross and blasphemous doctrine first fantasied by himself in Arabia, and so by him obtruded unto the world; and afterwards by the Saracen Caliphs* (his seduced successors), with greater forces maintained, was by them together with their empire dispersed over a great part of the face of the earth, to the 4. Le., of a “heathen” realm; here, the Islamic Ottoman Empire. 5. Lamentations (2.1), where the mournful (“heavy”) prophet Jeremiah bewailed the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians, in 586 B.C.E. 6. Satan.

7. Unlucky. “Mahomet”: a variant spelling of Muhammad, the Arab prophet through whom the Qu’ran was revealed and the religion of Islam established (7th century C.E.). 8. “Caliph” (from the Arabic word — for “successor” —i.e., to Muhammad): the term for the temporal and spiritual head of Islam. “Saracen”: generic term (used by Christians) for “Muslim.” In what follows, Knolles briefly surveys successive Muslim realms in the millennium leading up to his own time. After Muhammad's death (632 c.E.), his

successors under the Rashidun Caliphate (632— 661) oversaw a rapid expansion of territory through conquests from the Arabian Peninsula into the

regions north of Arabia and west into North Africa. The Umayyad Caliphate (661—750) extended Muslim territory as far as the Iberian Peninsula in the west and India in the east. The long-lived Abbasid Caliphate (750-1517) oversaw a great flourishing of science, commerce, and culture in a Golden Age centered in Baghdad. The slow decline of the Abbasids allowed for the rise of other Islamic powers, including the Seljuk Turks in the 11th cer ntury and finally the Ottoman Empire, which, e stablished by Osman I at the end of the 13th century, claimed the caliphate and eventually grew to encompass western Asia, southeastern Europe (including Greece and the Balkans), coastal areas on both sides of the Red Sea, the Horn of Africa, Egypt, and the rest of coastal North Africa as far as eastern Morocco. Although entering a long, gradual decline in the later 16th century, the empire was still very much a threat to eastern Europe at century's end.

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unspeakable ruin and destruction of the Christian religion and state especially in Asia and Africa, with some good part of Europe also. But the unity of this great Mahometan monarchy being once dissolved, and it divided into many kingdoms, and so after the manner of worldly things drawing unto the fatal period? of itself, in process of time became of far less force than before and so less dreadful unto the Christian princes of the West, by

whom these Saracens were again expulsed out of all the parts of Europe excepting one corner of Spain, which they yet held within the remembrance of our fathers, until that by their victorious forces they were thence at length happily removed also, after that they had possessed the same about the space of seven hundred years.! In this declination of the Saracens (the first champions of the Mahometan superstition, who, though they had lost much, yet held many great kingdoms both in Asia and Africa, taken for the most part from the Christians) arise the Turks, an obscure and base people, before scarce known unto the world, yet fierce and courageous, who by their valor first aspired unto’ the kingdom of Persia, with diverse other large provinces: from whence they were about an hundred threescore and ten years after again expulsed by the Tartars and enforced to retire themselves into the lesser Asia:? where taking the benefit of the discord of the Christian princes of the East and the carelessness of the Christians in general, they in some good measure repaired their former losses again and maintained the state of a kingdom at Iconium*? in Cilicia (now of them called Caramania), holding in their subjec-

tion the greater part of that fruitful country, still seeking to gain from the Christians what they had before lost unto the Tartars. But this kingdom of the Turks declining also, by the dismembering of the same, there stept up among the Turks in Bithynia’ one Osman or Ottoman,

of the Oguzian tribe or family, a man of great spirit and valor who by little and little growing up amongst the rest of his countrymen and other® the effeminate Christians on that side of Asia, at last like another Romulus?

took upon him the name of a Sultan or King, and is right worthily accounted the first founder of the mighty Empire of the Turks: which, continued by many descents directly in the line of himself even unto Mahomet the third of that name, who now reigneth,® is from a small beginning become the greatest terror of the world, and holding in subjection many great and mighty kingdoms in Asia, Europe, and Africa is grown to that height of pride as that it threateneth destruction unto the rest of the kingdoms of the earth; laboring with nothing more than with the weight of itself. In the greatness whereof is swallowed up both the name and empire of the Saracens, the

9. The fated end (of its allotted time). 1. The Reconquista (“Reconquest”; Spanish), a series of campaigns by Christian states against the Muslims (Moors) who had controlled terri-

tory on the Iberian Peninsula since the 8th century, ended in 1492, with the fall of the Moorish stronghold of Granada, on the southern coast. 2. Attained. Knolles here overviews the Seljuk Empire (1037-1194) and the secessionist Seljuk realm that, for a while, survived its fall, the Sul-

tanate of Ram (1077-1243).

3. Asia Minor. Tartars are the native inhabitants of the region of central Asia extending eastward from the Caspian Sea. 4. Latin name for the city of Konya, in Turkey’s Central Anatolia region. 5. A region adjoining the Bosporus and the Black Sea. los . Also. “Growing up”: rising.

7. The legendary eponymous founder of Rome. 8. Sultan Mehmed II reigned 1595-1603.

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glorious empire of the Greeks,’ the renowned kingdoms of Macedonia, Peloponnesus, Epirus, Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia, Armenia, Cyprus, Syria, Egypt,

Judea, Tunis, Algiers, Media, Mesopotamia, with a great part of Hungary, as also of the Persian kingdom, and all those churches and places so much spoken of in Holy Scripture (the Romans only excepted);' and in brief, so much of Christendom as far exceedeth that which is thereof at this day left. So that at this present if you consider the beginning, progress, and perpetual felicity of this the Ottoman Empire, there is in this world nothing more admirable? or strange; if the greatness and luster thereof, nothing more magnificent or glorious; if the power and strength thereof, nothing more dreadful or dangerous: which wondering at nothing but at the beauty of itself, and drunk with the pleasant wine of perpetual felicity, holdeth all the rest of the world in scorn, thundering out nothing but still blood and war, with a full persuasion in time to rule over all, prefining? unto itself no other limits than the uttermost bounds of the earth, from the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same. * * * By civil discord the noble country of Graecia perished,* whenas the father rising against the son, and the son against the father, and brother against brother, they to the mutual destruction of themselves called in the Turk, who like a greedy lion lurking in his den lay in wait for them all. So perished the kingdoms of Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia, and Epirus, with the famous islands of

the Rhodes and Cyprus,° betrayed as it were by the Christian princes their neighbors, by whom they might have easily been relieved. * * * By these and such like means is this barbarous empire (of* almost nothing) grown to that height of majesty and power as that it hath in contempt all the rest, being itself not inferior in greatness and strength unto the greatest monarchies that ever yet were upon the face of the earth, the Roman Empire only excepted. Which how far it shall yet farther spread, none knoweth but he that holdeth in his hand all the kingdoms of the earth and with his word boundake ook eth in the raging of the sea, so that it cannot further pass. ° 1603

9. The Byzantine Empire—a Greek empire in the senses that its lingua franca was Greek rather than Latin and its culture Greek rather than Roman. The list of kingdoms that follows includes several that had not existed since ancient times. 1. L.e., Rome, whose Christians are addressed in

Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, is the only place spoken of in Acts of the Apostles or the Pauline epistles that has not fallen to the Turks. 2. More to be wondered at. 3. Setting; envisaging. “Persuasion”: assurance, conviction (that it will, “in time[,] . .. rule over all”).

4. Most of Greece fell to the Turks in the decades after the fall of Constantinople (1453). Through-

out the Balkans, Turkish conquest was facilitated by internecine struggles among the Christian

states, some of which even formed short-sighted alliances with the Turks against their neighbors. 5. The setting of Acts 2—5 of Othello, Cyprus had come under Turkish control in 1570, Shakespeare’s sources for the play may have included Knolles’s account of the Battle of Lepanto (1571, off western Greece), in which the Christian “Holy

League,” including Venice, defeated an Ottoman fleet and thus prevented Turkish expansion into the western Mediterranean (though leaving Cyprus in Ottoman hands). 6. Beginning from.

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 1564-1593

he son of a Canterbury shoemaker, Christopher Marlowe was born two months before William Shakespeare. In 1580 he went to Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, on a scholarship that was ordinarily awarded to students preparing for the ministry. He held the scholarship for the maximum time, six years, but did not take holy orders. Instead, he began to write plays. When he applied for his Master of Arts degree in 1587, the university was about to deny it to him on the ground that he intended to go abroad to join the dissident English Catholics at Rheims. But the Privy Council intervened and requested that because Marlowe had done the queen “good service” he be granted his degree at the next commencement. “It is not Her Majesty’s pleasure,” the government officials added, “that anyone employed as he had been in matters touching the benefit of his country should be defamed by those that are ignorant in the affairs he went about.” Although much sensational information about Marlowe has been discovered in modern times, we are still largely “ignorant in the affairs he went about.” The likeliest possibility is that he served as a spy or an agent provocateur against English Catholics who were conspiring to overthrow the Protestant regime. Before he left Cambridge, Marlowe had written his tremendously successful play Tamburlaine and perhaps also, in collaboration with his younger Cambridge contemporary Thomas Nashe, the tragedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage. Tamburlaine dramatizes the exploits of a fourteenth-century Mongol warrior who rose from humble origins to conquer a huge territory that extended from the Black Sea to Delhi. In some sixteenth-century chronicles, Tamburlaine is represented as God’s scourge, the instrument of divine wrath. In Marlowe’s play there are few if any glimpses of a transcendent design. His hero is the vehicle for the expression of boundless energy and ambition, the impulse to strive ceaselessly for absolute dominance. Tamburlaine’s conquests are achieved not only by force of arms but also by his extraordinary mastery of language, his “high astounding terms.” The English theater audience had never before heard such resonant, immensely energetic blank verse. The great period of Elizabethan drama was launched by what Ben Jonson called “Marlowe's mighty line.” From the time of his first theatrical success, when he was twenty-three, Marlowe

had only six years to live. It is remarkable how much he managed to accomplish in so brief and turbulent a time. (Had Shakespeare died in the same year, we would scarcely remember him.) In 1589 Marlowe was involved in a brawl with one Wil-

liam Bradley, in which the poet Thomas Watson intervened and killed Bradley. Both poets were jailed, but Watson got off on a plea of self-defense, and Marlowe was released. In 1591 Marlowe was living in London with the playwright Thomas Kyd, who later, under torture, gave information to the Privy Council accusing him of atheism and treason. On May 30, 1593, an informer named Richard Baines sub-

mitted a note to the council that, on the evidence of Marlowe's own alleged utter-

ances, branded him with atheism, sedition, and homosexuality. Four days later, at

an inn in the London suburb of Deptford, Marlowe was killed by a dagger thrust, purportedly in an argument over the bill. Modern scholars have discovered that the murderer and the others present in the room at the inn had connections to the world of spies, double agents, and swindlers to which Marlowe himself was in some 658

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way linked. Those who were arrested in connection with the murder were briefly held and then quietly released. On the bare surface, Marlowe's tragic vision seems for the most part religiously and socially conventional. Tamburlaine at last suffers divine retribution and death at the end of the sequel, Tamburlaine Part I; the central character of The Jew of Malta is a monstrous anti-Semitic caricature; Doctor Faustus and Edward I (which

treats the tragic fate of a homosexual king) demonstrate the destruction that awaits those who rebel against God or violate the official moral order. Yet there is a force at work in these plays that relentlessly questions and undermines conventional morality. The crime for which Tamburlaine is apparently struck down is the burning of the Muslim Qur'an; the Jew of Malta turns out to be, if anything, less ruthless and hypocritical than his Christian counterparts; and Edward II's life of homoerotic indulgence seems innocent in comparison with the cynical and violent dealings of the corrupt rebels who turn against him. In a way that goes far beyond the demands of moral instruction, Marlowe seems to revel in the depiction of flamboyant transgression, physical abjection, and brutal punishment. Whether as a radical pursuit of absolute liberty or as an expression of sheer destructive negativity, Marlowe's plays, written in the turbulent years before his murder at the age of twenty-nine, have continued to fascinate and disturb readers and audiences.

Hero and Leander Marlowe's mythological poem is a free and original treatment of a classic tale about two ill-fated lovers. The story derives from a version by the Alexandrian poet Musaeus (ca. fifth century C.k.), but in its blend of poignancy and irony Hero and Leander is closer to that of the Roman poet Ovid, who briefly recounts the story in two epistles of his Heroides and who refers to it in one of his Elegies, which Marlowe translated. Hero and Leander is a rich and elusive poem: it is comic, decorative, cruel; now swiftly narrative, now digressive; playful and yet, in a light way, philosophical. Filled with free-floating erotic energy, both heterosexual and homosexual, it at once celebrates the power of language and calls attention to its irresponsibility and deceptiveness. The characters are evidently not intended to be consistent or psychologically credible; they inhabit a world of fancy, of strange contrasts between innocence and the wild riot of amorous intrigues among the gods that is Ovid’s subject matter. Hero is paradoxically a nun vowed to chastity and a devotee of Venus, the love goddess; Leander is both a sharp, sophisticated seducer and a sexual innocent. The deadpan asides, with their irony, hyperbole, and cynicism mineling with exuberant delight in the body’s instinctual freedom, heighten the poem's elusiveness, its cunning evasion of all fixed categories. Hero and Leander cannot be precisely dated. Marlowe's translations of Ovid, to

which the poem is closely related in spirit, are generally thought to be work of the later 1580s. But, alternatively, Marlowe may have been participating in a vogue for brief erotic epics (epyllia, as they are sometimes called) that dates from the early 1590s, when Shakespeare composed his contribution to the genre, Venus and Adonis. What is most striking, in either case, is the capacity for innovation. Just as Marlowe's plays displayed an unprecedented dramatic power in their blank verse, Hero and Leander manifested for the first time the sophisticated eloquence and

tonal range of the heroic couplet. Marlowe left his poem unfinished; George Chapman, the playwright and translator of Homer, undertook to complete it. Chapman’s moralizing, weightily philosophical continuation, which divides the poem into “sestiads” (named after Sestos, where Hero lived), was published in 1598, shortly after Marlowe's fragment. The work is printed here without Chapman's additions.

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Hero and Leander

s

On Hellespont,! guilty of true-loves’® blood, In view and opposite, two cities stood, Sea-borderers, disjoined by Neptune’s might; The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.° At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair, Whom young Apollo courted for her hair, And offered as a dower his burning throne, Where she should sit for men to gaze upon.

sweethearts’ called

The outside of her garments were of lawn,?

i0

‘The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn; Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove Where Venus in her naked glory strove To please the careless and disdainful eyes Of proud Adonis, that before her lies;

is

Her kirtle° blue, whereon was many a stain,

long dress

Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain.* Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath, From whence her veil reached to the ground beneath. 20

Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves, Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives;

Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed, When ‘twas the odor which her breath forth cast; And there for honey, bees have sought in vain,

25

And, beat from thence, have lighted there again. About her neck hung chains of pebble-stone, Which, lightened? by her neck, like diamonds shone. She ware no gloves, for neither sun nor wind Would burn or parch her hands, but to her mind? Or° warm or cool them, for they took delight

30

illuminated as she wished either

‘To play upon those hands, they were so white. Buskins?® of shells all silvered uséd she, And branched with blushing coral to the knee,

boots

Where sparrows perched, of hollow pearl and gold, 35

Such as the world would wonder to behold; Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills,

Which, as she went,° would chirrup through the bills.

walked

Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pined,

And looking in her face, was strooken blind. 40

But this is true: so like was one the other, As he imagined Hero was his mother;° And oftentimes into her bosom flew, About her naked neck his bare arms threw,

i.e., Venus

And laid his childish head upon her breast,

1. The Dardanelles, in Turkey, a strait that forms part of the boundary between Europe and Asia, 2. Akind of fine linen or thin cambric. 3. Venus'’s love for the young hunter Adonis and his death in a boar hunt are recounted

by Ovid,

and by Shakespeare in Venus and Adonis. 4. The extravagant claim is made that many “wretched lovers” had committed suicide at her feet because Hero would not have them.

HERO

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And with still® panting rocked, there took his rest.

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continual

So lovely fair was Hero, Venus’ nun,”

As Nature wept, thinking she was undone, Because she took more from her than she left And of such wondrous beauty her bereft; Therefore, in sign her° treasure suffered wrack,° ice., Since Hero’s time hath half the world been black. Amorous Leander, beautiful and young (Whose tragedy divine Musaeus°® sung), Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none For whom succeeding times make greater moan. His dangling tresses that were never shorn,

50

55

Nature's Hidestruction

Had they been cut and unto Colchos’ borne,

60

Would have allured the vent’rous youth of Greece To hazard more than for the Golden Fleece. Fair Cynthia® wished his arms might be her sphere;° Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. His body was as straight as Circe’s wand;* Jove might have sipped out nectar from his hand.

the moon / orbit

Even as delicious meat is to the taste,

So was his neck in touching, and surpassed The white of Pelops’ shoulder.’ | could tell ye How

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vi

smooth his breast was, and how white his belly,

And whose immortal fingers did imprint That heavenly path, with many a curious dint,° That runs along his back; but my rude® pen Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men, Much less of powerful gods; let it suffice That my slack° muse sings of Leander’s eyes, Those orient® cheeks and lips, exceeding his That leapt into the water for a kiss Of his own shadow,° and despising many, Died ere he could enjoy the love of any. Had wild Hippolytus* Leander seen,

exquisite indentation crude

dull shining reflection

Enamored of his beauty had he been; 80

His presence made the rudest peasant melt, That in the vast uplandish country dwelt; The barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with nought, Was moved with him, and for his favor sought. Some swore he was a maid in man’s attire, For in his looks were all that men desire:

A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking? eye, A brow for love to banquet royally;

5. The connotations of these two words are contradictory. Hero is a maiden in attendance at the temple of Venus, who is, of course, the goddess of

physical love. 6. The author of the Greek poem on which Hero and Leander is remotely based. Though he lived in late antiquity (ca. 5th century C.£.), he was sometimes confused with a legendary early Musaeus, supposed son of Orpheus; hence Marlowe calls him “divine.”

expressive

7. The country in Asia where the Argonauts (“the vent'rous youth of Greece”; line 57) found the Golden Fleece. 8. The wand with which Circe, in the Odyssey, turned men into beasts. 9. Pelops, according to Ovid, had a shoulder of ivory.

1. An allusion to Narcissus. 2. Like Adonis, he preferred hunting to love.

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And such as knew he was a man, would say,

“Leander, thou art made for amorous play; Why art thou not in love, and loved of? all?

90

9

100

Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall.”° The men of wealthy Sestos every year, For his sake whom their goddess held so dear, Rose-cheeked Adonis, kept a solemn feast. Thither resorted many a wandering guest ‘To meet their loves; such as had none at all Came lovers home from this great festival; For every street, like to a firmament, Glistered°® with breathing stars, who, where they went, Frighted the melancholy earth, which deemed

by captive

glittered

© Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed

As if another Phaéton? had got The guidance of the sun’s rich chariot. But far above the loveliest, Hero shined,

ios

110

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And stole away th’ enchanted gazer’s mind; ~~For like sea nymphs’ inveigling harmony, So was her beauty to the standers by. Nor that night-wandering pale and watery star° (When yawning dragons draw her thirling* car® From Latmos’ mount? up to the gloomy sky, Where, crowned with blazing light and majesty, She proudly sits) more over-rules® the flood® Than she the hearts of those that near her stood. Even as when gaudy nymphs pursue the chase,° Wretched Ixion’s shaggy-footed race,° Incensed with savage heat, gallop amain From steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain, So ran the people forth to gaze upon her, And all that viewed her were enamored on her. And as in fury of a dreadful fight, Their fellows being slain or put to flight,

the moon chariot

rules over /tide hunt

Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead-strooken,

So at her presence all, surprised and tooken, Await the sentence of her scornful eyes; He whom she favors lives, the other dies.

125

130

‘There might you see one sigh, another rage, And some, their violent passions to assuage, Compile sharp satires; but alas, too late, For faithful love will never turn to hate. And many, seeing great princes were denied, Pined as they went, and thinking on her, died.

On this feast day, oh, curséd day and hour! Went Hero thorough? Sestos, from her tower

3. A son of the sun god, he drove his father’s chariot erratically across the sky and almost burned up the world. 4. Flying like a spear. 5. The

mountain

where

the

moon

visited

her

through

lover, Endymion. 6. The centaurs, fathered by Lxion on a cloud. For his presumption in loving Juno, Ixion was chained to a wheel, hence “wretched.”

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To Venus’ temple, where unhappily, As after chanced, they did each other spy. 135

So fair a church as this had Venus none;

The walls were of discolored® jasper stone,

many-colored

Wherein was Proteus’ carved, and o’erhead

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iss

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A lively® vine of green sea-agate spread, Where, by one hand, light-headed Bacchus* hung, And with the other, wine from grapes out-wrung. Of crystal shining fair the pavement was; The town of Sestos called it Venus’ glass;° There might® you see the gods in sundry shapes, Committing heady® riots, incest, rapes:

lifelike

looking glass could passionate; violent

For know that underneath this radiant floor Was Danaé’s’ statue in a brazen tower,

Jove slyly stealing from his sister's! bed To dally with tdalian Ganymed,? And for his love Europa bellowing loud,* And tumbling with the rainbow in a cloud;* Blood-quaffing Mars heaving the iron net Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set;’ Love kindling fire to burn such towns as Troy; Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boy® That now is turned into a cypress tree, Under whose shade the wood-gods love to be. And in the midst a silver altar stood; There Hero sacrificing turtles’’ blood, Vailed® to the ground, veiling her eyelids close, And modestly they opened as she rose; Thence flew love’s arrow with the golden head,*

bowed down

And thus Leander was enamoréd.

1s

Stone still he stood, and evermore he gazed, Till with the fire that from his countenance blazed, Relenting Hero’s gentle heart was strook; Such force and virtue® hath an amorous look.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stripped, long ere the course® begin 170

~We wish that one should lose, the other win;

And one especially do we affect® Of two gold ingots, like in each respect. The reason no man knows, let it suffice,

17s

What we behold is censured® by our eyes. Where both deliberate, the love is slight;

7. Asea god, who could change his shape at will. 8. God of wine and revelry. 9, Imprisoned in a tower, Danaé was visited by Jove in the form of a shower of gold. 1. Le., Juno's. She was Jove's wife. 2. Ganymede was a beautiful youth whom Jove kidnapped from Mount Ida, hence “Idalian.” 3. To abduct Europa, Jove took the form of a bull. 4. Jove as Jupiter Pluvius, god of rain, frolicking with Iris, goddess of the rainbow. But no such

power

race

fancy judged

tryst is found in classical mythology. 5. Vulcan used a net to trap Venus (his wife) and Mars, “blood-quaffing” god of war, in the act of love. “Cyclops”: probably plural, members of this

one-eyed race worked as Vulcan’s assistants. 6. Cyparissus, beloved of the wood god Sylvanus. 7. Turtledoves, symbolic of constancy in love. 8. The “golden head” of some of Cupid’s arrows produced love; he had others, of lead, that produced dislike.

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Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?’ He kneeled, but unto her devoutly prayed. Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said, “Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him,” 180

And as she spake those words, came somewhat near him. He started up; she blushed as one ashamed,

Wherewith Leander much more was inflamed. He touched her hand; in touching it she trembled: Love deeply grounded hardly° is dissembled. These lovers parléd® by the touch of hands;

with difficulty spoke

True love is mute, and oft amazéd stands.

Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled, The air with sparks of living fire was spangled, And Night, deep drenched in misty Acheron, | 190

Heaved up her head, and half the world upon Breathed darkness forth. (Dark night is Cupid’s day.) And now begins Leander to display Love’s holy fire, with words, with sighs and tears, Which like sweet music entered Hero’s ears,

And yet at every word she turned aside And always cut him off as he replied. At last, like to a bold sharp sophister,* With cheerful hope thus he accosted® her:

addressed

“Fair creature, let me speak without offense; 200

210

i) wa

I would my rude® words had the influence To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine; Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine. Be not unkind and fair—misshapen stuff° Are of behavior boisterous and rough. O shun me not, but hear me ere you go; God knows I cannot force® love, as you do. My words shall be as spotless as my youth, Full of simplicity and naked truth. This sacrifice, whose sweet perfume descending From Venus’ altar to your footsteps bending,° Doth testify that you exceed her far To whom you offer and whose nun you are. Why should you worship her? Her you surpass As much as sparkling diamonds flaring? glass.

rough persons compel

turning

glaring

A diamond set in lead his worth retains;

A heavenly nymph, beloved of human swains,° Receives no blemish but ofttimes more grace; Which makes me hope, although I am but base— Base in respect of° thee, divine and pure—

Dutiful service may thy love procure; And | in duty will excel all other, As thou in beauty dost exceed Love’s mother.° 9 Shakespeare quotes this famous You Like It (3.5.83). 1. One of the rivers of Hades.

line in As

youths

in comparison with

Venus

2. A sophist is a person skilled in arguments, especially specious ones.

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Nor heaven, nor thou, were made to gaze upon; As heaven preserves all things, so save thou one. A stately builded ship, well rigged and tall, The ocean maketh more majestical: Why vowest thou then to live in Sestos here, Who on Love's seas more glorious wouldst appear? Like untuned golden strings all women are, Which, long time lie untouched, will harshly jar.* Vessels of brass, oft handled, brightly shine; What difference betwixt the richest mine® And basest mold,° but use? for both not used Are of like worth. Then treasure is abused When misers keep it; being put to loan, In time it will return us two for one. Rich robes themselves and others do adorn;

225

230

235

ore earth

Neither themselves nor others, if not worn.

240

ie)=

wi

250

255

20

2s

Who builds a palace and rams up the gate Shall see it ruinous and desolate. Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish; Lone women, like to empty houses, perish. Less sins the poor rich man that starves himself In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf,° Than such as you: his golden earth remains, Which after his decease some other gains. But this fair gem, sweet in the loss alone, When you fleet hence can be bequeathed to none. Or if it could, down from th’ enameled? sky All heaven would come to claim this legacy, And with intestine® broils the world destroy And quite confound Nature’s sweet harmony. Well therefore by the gods decreed it is, We human creatures should enjoy that bliss. One is no number;* maids are nothing then Without the sweet society of men. Wilt thou live single still? One shalt thou be, Though never-singling Hymen’ couple thee. Wild savages, that drink of running springs, Think water far excels all earthly things; But they that daily taste neat° wine despise it. Virginity, albeit? some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth. Base bullion for the stamp’s sake® we allow:°

wealth

many-colored internal, civil

undiluted although

approve

Even so for men’s impression do we you;

By which alone, our reverend fathers’ say, Women receive perfection every way.

3. Le., instruments not played will be out of tune and harsh.

4. A traditional concept, going back to Aristotle. 5. God of marriage. “Never-singling”: i.e., one

who never separates, but always joins. 6. For the impression

that makes

metal

lion”) into a coin. 7. Ancient philosophers, like Aristotle.

(“bul-

|

666

tN | i)

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

This idol which you term Virginity, Is neither essence,’ subject to the eye,

something real

No, nor to any one exterior sense,

Nor hath it any place of residence, Nor is ’t of earth or mold? celestial, tN I va

280

form

Or capable of any form at all. Of that which hath no being do not boast: Things that are not at all are never lost. Men foolishly do call it virtuous: What virtue is it that is born with us?® Much less can honor be ascribed thereto: Honor is purchased by the deeds we do. Believe me, Hero, honor is not won

Until some honorable deed be done.

i) ee} wi)

Seek you for chastity, immortal fame, And know that some have wronged Diana’s name?” Whose name is it, if she be false or not,

290

So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot? But you are fair, aye me! so wondrous fair, So young, so gentle, and so debonair,’ As Greece will think, if thus you live alone, Some one or other keeps you as his own.

gracious

Then, Hero, hate me not, nor from me fly

To follow swiftly-blasting® infamy. Perhaps thy sacred priesthood makes thee loath. Tell me, to whom madest thou that heedless oath?”

-blighting

“To Venus,” answered she, and as she spake,

300

Forth from those two tralucent cisterns°® brake A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face Made milk-white paths whereon the gods might trace® To Jove’s high court. He thus replied: “The rites In which Love’s beauteous empress most delights

i.e., translucent eyes

Are banquets, Doric music,' midnight revel,

Plays, masques, and all that stern age counteth evil. Thee as a holy idiot doth she scorn; For thou, in vowing chastity, hast sworn 305

To rob her name and honor, and thereby Commit’st a sin far worse than perjury— Even sacrilege against her Deity, Through regular and formal purity. To expiate which sin, kiss and shake hands;

310

Such sacrifice as this Venus demands.” Thereat she smiled and did deny him so As, put® thereby, yet might he hope for mo.° Which makes him quickly reinforce his speech And her in humble manner thus beseech:

8. Le.,

a virtue

is not

a virtue

unless

it is

acquired. 9. I.e., no fame for chastity is secure. Even Diana, goddess of chastity, has been slandered.

put off /more

1, Asolemn, military mode. Leander would more appropriately have said “Lydian” (as in Milton's “LAllegro,” line 136); Lydian music was soft and sensual.

HERO

AND

LEANDER

|

667

“Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve, Yet for her sake whom you have vowed to serve,

315

Abandon fruitless, cold Virginity,

The gentle Queen of Love’s sole enemy. Then shall you most resemble Venus’ nun, When Venus’ sweet rites are performed and done. Flint-breasted Pallas? joys in single life, But Pallas and your mistress are at strife. Love, Hero, then, and be not tyrannous, But heal the heart that thou hast wounded thus,

Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice;° Fair fools delight to be accounted nice.® The richest corn? dies, if it be not reaped; Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept.”

shy, reluctant grain

These arguments he used, and many more,

Wherewith she yielded, that was won before. Hero’s looks yielded, but her words made war: Women are won when they begin to jar.° Thus, having swallowed Cupid’s golden hook, The more she strived, the deeper was she strook. Yet, evilly° feigning anger, strove she still And would be thought to grant against her will. So having paused a while, at last she said: “Who taught thee rhetoric to deceive a maid?

dispute

badly

Aye me, such words as these should I abhor,

And yet I like them for the orator.” With that, Leander stooped to have embraced her, But from his spreading arms away she cast her, And thus bespake him: “Gentle youth, forbear To touch the sacred garments which I wear. 345

350

“Upon a rock, and underneath a hill,

Far from the town, where all is whist® and still, Save that the sea, playing on yellow sand, Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land, Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus* In silence of the night to visit us,

silent

My turret stands, and there, God knows, | play

With Venus’ swans and sparrows’ all the day. A dwarfish beldame® bears me company, That hops about the chamber where I lie And spends the night, that might be better spent, In vain discourse and apish° merriment. Come thither.” As she spake this, her tongue tripped, For unawares “Come thither” from her slipped; And suddenly her former color changed And here and there her eyes through anger ranged.

old hag

silly

2. Athena, a rival goddess, usually portrayed in

mon expression.

armor.

by swans, and sparrows were associated with her because of their traditionally reputed lechery.

3. Le., by hoarding the treasure of her beauty. 4. God of sleep. “Golden slumbers” was a com-

5. Venus was often portrayed in a chariot drawn

668

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

And like a planet, moving several° ways,° At one self° instant, she, poor soul, assays,°

different one and the same / tries

Loving, not to love at all, and every part 365

370

Strove to resist the motions of her heart; And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, such

As might have made heaven stoop to have a touch, Did she uphold to Venus, and again Vowed spotless chastity, but all in vain. Cupid beat down her prayers with his wings; Her vows above the empty air he flings. All deep enraged, his sinewy° bow he bent,

strong

And shot a shaft that burning from him went, Wherewith she, strooken, looked so dolefully

As made Love sigh to see his tyranny. 375

330

And as she wept, her tears to pearl he turned, And wound them on his arm, and for her mourned.

Then towards the palace of the Destinies,° Laden with languishment and grief, he flies, And to those stern nymphs humbly made request Both might enjoy each other and be blessed. But with a ghastly dreadful countenance, Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance, They answered Love, nor would vouchsafe° so much

the Fates

grant

As one poor word, their hate to him was such.

385

390

Harken a while, and I will tell you why: Heaven’s wingéd herald, Jove-born Mercury, The selfsame day that he asleep had laid Enchanted Argus,’ spied a country maid Whose careless hair, instead of pearl t’ adorn it, Glistered with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it;®

Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose, Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to glose.° Yet proud she was, for lofty pride that dwells 395

400

405

In towered courts is oft in shepherds’ cells,° And too-too well the fair vermilion knew, And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew

The love of every swain.° On her, this god Enamored was, and with his snaky rod? Did charm her nimble feet and made her stay; ‘The while upon a hillock down he lay, And sweetly on his pipe began to play, And with smooth speech, her fancy to assay,° Till in his twining arms he locked her fast, And then he wooed with kisses, and at last,

deceive huts

rustic

test

As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid,

And tumbling in the grass, he often strayed Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold 6. In Ptolemaic astronomy each planet moved in its own orbit or sphere but was also carried along in the motion of the surrounding spheres. 7. Mercury (or Hermes), the messenger god with

winged feet, put to sleep Argus, the hundred-eyed

monster whom Juno had placed as a guard oyer Io, with whom her husband, Jupiter, was in love. The myth that follows is Marlowe's invention. 8. l.e., pearl or other jewelry.

9. The caduceus (now the symbol of medicine).

HERO

AND

LEANDER

669

To eye those parts which no eye should behold; And, like an insolent commanding lover, Boasting his parentage, would needs discover The way to new Elysium;' but she, Whose only dower was her chastity,

410

Having striven in vain, was now about to cry

And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh. Herewith he stayed his fury,° and began To give her leave to rise. Away she ran; After went Mercury, who used such cunning As she, to hear his tale, left off her running.

41s

passion

Maids are not won by brutish force and might,

420

But speeches full of pleasure and delight. And knowing Hermes? courted her, was glad That she such loveliness and beauty had As could provoke his liking, yet was mute, And neither would deny nor grant his suit.

as

Still vowed he love; she, wanting® no excuse

To feed him with delays, as women use,° Or thirsting after immortality (All women are ambitious naturally), Imposed upon her lover such a task As he ought not perform, nor yet she ask. A draft of flowing nectar she requested, Wherewith the king of gods and men is feasted.

430

lacking as women usually do

He, ready to accomplish what she willed,

Stole some from Hebe (Hebe Jove’s cup filled) And gave it to his simple rustic love,

435

Which being known (as what is hid from Jove?)

He inly stormed and waxed more furious Than for the fire filched by Prometheus, And thrusts him down from heaven. He, wandering here, In mournful terms,° with sad and heavy cheer,°

440

condition / countenance

Complained to Cupid. Cupid, for his sake, To be revenged on Jove did undertake;

And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies

(I mean the adamantine’ Destinies)

4as_

430

He wounds with love and forced them equally To dote upon deceitful Mercury. They offered him the deadly fatal knife That shears the slender threads of human life;* At his fair feathered feet the engines® laid Which th’ earth from ugly Chaos’ den upweighed.’

contrivances

These he regarded not, but did entreat

1. In classical mythology, the paradisal home of

the favored dead; also known as the Islands of the Blessed. 2. Marlowe uses the names Mercury and Hermes

interchangeably, according to the requirements of

meter.

3. Of extreme hardness (so called because the Destinies’—or Fates’—decrees were irrevocable).

4. According to classical mythology, the Fates spun and cut the thread that measures each life.

5. The Fates also controlled the supports that had held up (“upweighed”) the earth since it arose out of Chaos, the yawning abyss from which all things came.

670

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

That Jove, usurper of his father’s seat,

455

Might presently be banished into hell And agéd Saturn in Olympus dwell. They granted what he craved,° and once again Saturn and Ops began their golden reign.

immediately requested

Murder, rape, war, lust, and treachery

Were with Jove closed in Stygian empery.°

realm

But long this blesséd time continued not; 460

As soon as he his wishéd purpose got, He, reckless of his promise, did despise The love of th’ everlasting Destinies. They seeing it, both Love and him abhorred,

465

470

475.

And Jupiter unto his place restored.° And but that Learning, in despite of Fate, Will mount aloft and enter heaven gate, And to the seat of Jove itself advance, Hermes had slept in hell with Ignorance. Yet as a punishment they added this, That he and Poverty should always kiss.’ And to this day is every scholar poor; Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.° Likewise the angry sisters, thus deluded, To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded That Midas’ brood® shall sit in Honor’s chair, To which the Muses’ sons are only heir. And fruitful wits® that inaspiring? are Shall discontent run into regions far; And few great lords in virtuous deeds shall joy, But be surprised with® every garish toy,° And still° enrich the lofty servile clown,?

485

490

Who, with encroaching guile, keeps learning down. Then muse not® Cupid’s suit no better sped, Seeing in their loves the Fates were injuréd. By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted, Viewing Leander’s face, fell down and fainted. He kissed her and breathed life into her lips, Wherewith, as one displeased, away she trips. Yet as she went, full often looked behind, And many poor excuses did she find To linger by the way, and once she stayed

6. The story in lines 451-64 may be summarized as follows: Mercury scorns the gifts offered by the Fates but asks instead that Jove be dethroned (Jove had overthrown his father, Saturn, who ruled heaven during the Golden Age). Mercury persuades the Fates to reverse this revolution, so Saturn and his wife, Ops, return to Olympus and Jove is thrust down into “Stygian empery” (line 458), or Hades. During the Golden Age there was no murder,

rape, war,

lust, or treachery;

these

came in with Jove, so when he is sent to Hades they go with him. But this second Golden Age did not last long, because once he got what he

wanted, Mercury forgot the Destinies and they

ignorant clod

minds

captivated by / trifle ever / ignorant person

i.e., don't be surprised

restored Jove. 7. Mercury, the god of learning, would have slept in hell with Ignorance were it not that Learning is so divine that it always mounts up, even to heaven, the “seat ofJove.” But it was not beyond the Fates’ power to make Learning and Poverty go together, which they decreed in revenge for Mercury’s neglect. 8. The rich, because everything Midas touched turned to gold; also the stupid, because

Midas,

judging a musical contest between Apollo and Pan, preferred the latter, against all sensible opinion. 9. Not ambitious for riches or power.

HERO

AND

And would have turned again, but was afraid In offering parley to be counted light.° So on she goes, and in her idle flight Her painted fan of curléd plumes let fall, Thinking to train? Leander therewithal. He, being a novice, knew not what she meant, But stayed, and after her a letter sent, Which joyful Hero answered in such sort As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort Wherein the liberal Graces! locked their wealth, And therefore to her tower he got by stealth. Wide open stood the door; he need not climb, And she herself before the pointed® time Had spread the board,° with roses strewed the room, And oft looked out, and mused?® he did not come. At last he came; O who can tell the greeting These greedy lovers had at their first meeting? He asked, she gave, and nothing was denied; Both to each other quickly were affied.° Look how? their hands, so were their hearts united,

LEANDER

|

671

immodest

entice

appointed

set the table wondered

engaged just as

And what he did, she willingly requited. (Sweet are the kisses, the embracements sweet, When like desires and affections meet,

For from the earth to heaven is Cupid raised, Where fancy is in equal balance peised.°) Yet she this rashness suddenly repented

weighed

And turned aside and to herself lamented,

As if her name and honor had been wronged By being possessed of him for whom she longed. Ay, and she wished, albeit not from her heart,

That he would leave her turret and depart. The mirthful god of amorous pleasure smiled To see how he this captive nymph beguiled,° For hitherto he did but fan the fire And kept it down that it might mount the higher. Now waxed she jealous? lest his love abated, Fearing her own thoughts made her to be hated. Therefore unto him hastily she goes

530

possessively fearful

And, like light Salmacis,? her body throws

Upon his bosom where, with yielding eyes, She offers up herself a sacrifice To slake his anger, if he were displeased. O what god would not therewith be appeased? Like Aesop’s cock,? this jewel he enjoyed, And as a brother with his sister toyed, Supposing nothing else was to be done, Now he her favor and good will had won.

But know you not that creatures wanting sense°

. Three goddesses, embodying aspects of beauty. 2. An amorous nymph in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. —_

deceived

lacking intelligence

3, In Aesop’s fable, a cock, scratching in the barnyard, uncovers a jewel but prefers a barley corn.

672

540

a7) TS wi

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

By nature have a mutual appetence,* And wanting organs to advance a step, Moved by love's force, unto each other leap? Much more in subjects having intellect Some hidden influence breeds like effect. Albeit Leander, rude? in love and raw,

untutored

Long dallying with Hero, nothing saw That might delight him more, yet he suspected Some amorous rites or other were neglected. Therefore unto his body, hers he clung; She, fearing on the rushes? to be flung, Strived with redoubled strength; the more she strived, The more a gentle, pleasing heat revived,

JI yl JI

560

Which taught him all that elder lovers know. And now the same gan so to scorch and glow, As, in plain terms, yet cunningly,° he craved? it. (Love always makes those eloquent that have it.) She, with a kind of granting, put him by it, And, ever as he thought himself most nigh it, Like to the tree of Tantalus,° she fled, And, seeming lavish, saved her maidenhead. Neer king more sought to keep his diadem Than Hero this inestimable gem.

skillfully /asked for

Above our life we love a steadfast friend;

Yet, when a token of great worth we send, We often kiss it, often look thereon, And stay the messenger that would be gone. No marvel then, though Hero would not yield So soon to part from that she dearly held. Jewels being lost are found again, this never; "Tis lost but once, and once lost, lost forever.

vl

I

J

580

Now had the Morn espied her lover's steeds,’ Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,° And, red for anger that he stayed so long, All headlong throws herself the clouds among. And now Leander, fearing to be missed, Embraced her suddenly, took leave, and kissed; Long was he taking leave, and loath to go, And kissed again, as lovers use® to do. Sad Hero wrung him by the hand and wept, Saying, “Let your vows and promises be kept.”

clothes

are accustomed

Then, standing at the door, she turned about,

As loath to see Leander going out. And now the sun that through th’ horizon peeps, As pitying these lovers, downward creeps, I oO nn

So that in silence of the cloudy night,

Though it was morning, did he take his flight. Attraction, as iron to a magnet, used as carpeting in Elizabethan homes. Punished in Hades by constantly reaching for

iesReeds >.

fruit from a tree that eluded him and by trying to drink water that also escaped him, 7. The horses that pull the chariot of the sun.

HERO

AND

LEANDER

But what the secret trusty night concealed, Leander’s amorous habit® soon revealed. With Cupid’s myrtle* was his bonnet? crowned; About his arms the purple riband° wound Wherewith she wreathed her largely spreading hair; Nor could the youth abstain but he must wear The sacred ring wherewith she was endowed When first religious chastity she vowed; Which made his love through Sestos to be known, And thence unto Abydos sooner blown Than he could sail, for incorporeal Fame, Whose weight consists in nothing but her name, Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumes Are reeking water and dull earthly fumes.’ Home when he came, he seemed not to be there, But like exiléd air thrust from his sphere, Set in a foreign place, and straight from thence, Alcides-like,! by mighty violence He would have chased away the swelling main® That him from her unjustly did detain. Like as the sun in a diameter? Fires and inflames objects removed far,

590

600

605

673

dress hat ribbon

sea

And heateth kindly, shining lat’rally,*

gives life

So beauty sweetly quickens® when ‘tis nigh, But being separated and removed,

610

|

Burns where it cherished, murders where it loved. Therefore, even as an index to a book, 615

620

So to his mind was young Leander’s look. O none but gods have power their love to hide: Affection by the count’nance is descried.° The light of hidden fire itself discovers, And love that is concealed betrays° poor lovers. His secret flame apparently° was seen, Leander’s father knew where he had been, And for the same mildly rebuked his son, Thinking to quench the sparkles new begun.

revealed gives awa) openly

But love, resisted once, grows passionate,

625

And nothing more than counsel lovers hate. For as a hot, proud horse highly disdains To have his head controlled, but breaks the reins,

Spits forth the ringled® bit, and with his hooves

with rings at the ends stamps

Checks° the submissive ground; so he that loves,

630

The more he is restrained, the worse he fares. What is it now but mad Leander dares??

8. A plant sacred to Venus or Cupid, symbolic of love.

9. I.e., are mist and smoke. |. Like Hercules, with brute force. (“Alcides” is a patronymic of Hercules, deriving from his stepgrandfather, Alcaeus.) 2. L.e., shining straight down at noon.

3. L.e., when it is lower in the sky. The idea is

that the sun, paradoxically,

causes

harm

only

when it appears to be farthest away (at the zenith). Beauty, Marlowe goes on to claim, works the same way. 4. I.e., what is there now Leander dares not do?

674

635

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

“O Hero, Hero!” thus he cried full oft, And then he got him to a rock aloft, Where, having spied her tower, long stared he on ’t And prayed the narrow toiling Hellespont To part in twain, that he might come and go; But still the rising billows answered “No!” With that he stripped him to the ivory skin,

640

645

650

And crying, “Love, I come!” leapt lively in. Whereat the sapphire-visaged god° grew proud,’ And made his capering Triton® sound aloud; Imagining that Ganimed,’ displeased, Had left the heavens, therefore on him seized. Leander strived; the waves about him wound And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves Sweet singing mermaids sported with their loves On heaps of heavy gold and took great pleasure To spurn in careless sort® the shipwrack treasure; For here the stately azure palace stood Where kingly Neptune and his train® abode.

Neptune, god ofthe sea

manner attendants

The lusty god embraced him, called him love,

And swore he never should return to Jove. But when he knew it was not Ganimed, For under water he was almost dead,

660

665

He heaved him up, and looking on his face, Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace,* Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him, And fell in drops like tears because they missed him. Leander being up, began to swim, And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him, Whereat aghast, the poor soul gan to cry, “O let me visit Hero ere | die!” The god put Helle’s bracelet? on his arm, And swore the sea should never do him harm. He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played, And, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed.° He watched his arms, and as they opened wide, At every stroke betwixt them he would slide

revealed

And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance 670

675

And, as he turned, cast many a lustful glance And throw him gaudy toys to please his eye, And dive into the water and there pry Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb, And up again and close beside him swim, And talk of love. Leander made reply, “You are deceived;

| am no woman,

5. The primary sense is probably “became sexually a roused, 6. A subordinate shell.

sea god who blew on a conch

7. See p. 663, n. 2. Som 1e three-pronged fork carried by Neptune.

I.”

9. Helle was the daughter of King Athamas of hebes. To escape a cruel stepmother, she fled on a winged, golden-fleeced ram but fell off into the Hellespont, which was named for her. Marlowe apparently invented the detail of the bracelet.

HERO

680

685

690

695

AND

LEANDER

|

675

Thereat smiled Neptune, and then told a tale How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale, Played with a boy so lovely fair and kind, As for his love both earth and heaven pined; That of the cooling river durst not drink, Lest water nymphs should pull him from the brink; And when he sported in the fragrant lawns, Goat-footed satyrs and up-staring fawns! Would steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done “Ay me!” Leander cried, “th’ enamored sun That now should shine on Thetis’ glassy bower? Descends upon my radiant Hero’s tower. O that these tardy arms of mine were wings!” And as he spake, upon the waves he springs. Neptune was angry that he gave no ear, And in his heart revenging malice bare. He flung at him his mace, but as it went He called it in, for love made him repent. The mace returning back, his own hand hit,

As meaning to be venged for darting it. When this fresh bleeding wound Leander viewed, His color went and came, as if he rued°®

700

regretted

The grief? which Neptune felt. In gentle breasts Relenting thoughts, remorse, and pity rests; And who have hard hearts and obdurate minds

pain

But vicious, harebrained, and illit’rate hinds?°

rustics

The god, seeing him with pity to be moved, Thereon concluded that he was beloved. 705

(Love is too full of faith, too credulous,

With folly and false hope deluding us.) Wherefore Leander’s fancy to surprise,°

710

i.e., to capture his love

To the rich ocean for gifts he flies. "Tis wisdom to give much; a gift prevails When deep persuading oratory fails. By this° Leander, being near the land, Cast down his weary feet and felt the sand.

by this time

Breathless albeit he were, he rested not

Till to the solitary tower he got, 71s

720

1. up 2. of

And knocked and called; at which celestial noise

The longing heart of Hero much more joys Than nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel® rings, Or crooked? dolphin when the sailor sings. She stayed not for her robes, but straight arose And, drunk with gladness, to the door she goes; Where, seeing a naked man, she screeched for fear (Such sights as this to tender maids are rare) And ran into the dark herself to hide.

Woodland spirits, who prophesied by looking to the heavens. Le., the sea. Thetis was a sea nymph, mother the hero Achilles.

tambourine

3. “Crooked” because of the undulating path of the dolphin in the water. The musician Arion was saved from drowning by a dolphin charmed by his music.

676

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

Rich jewels in the dark are soonest spied. 723

Unto her was he led, or rather drawn

By those white limbs which sparkled through the lawn.°

fine linen

The nearer that he came, the more she fled,

And, seeking refuge, slipped into her bed. Whereon Leander sitting, thus began, 730

Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan:

“If not for love, yet, love, for pity’s sake Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take; At least vouchsafe°® these arms some little room, Who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly® swum.

This head was beat with many a churlish billow, And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow.” Herewith affrighted Hero shrunk away And in her lukewarm place Leander lay; Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet,° Would animate gross clay, and higher set The drooping thoughts of base declining souls Than dreary°® Mars® carousing nectar bowls. His hands he cast upon her like a snare;

~I w wi

740

grant gladly

fetched

bloody / god of war

She, overcome with shame and sallow fear,

745

Like chaste Diana when Actaeon? spied her, Being suddenly betrayed, dived down to hide her, And as her silver body downward went, With both her hands she made the bed a tent,

And in her own mind thought herself secure, Overcast with dim and darksome coverture. And now she lets him whisper in her ear,

750

Flatter, entreat, promise, protest, and swear;

Yet ever as he greedily assayed® To touch those dainties, she the Harpy? played, And every limb did, as a soldier stout, Defend the fort and keep the foeman out.

“I wi 7

For though the rising ivory mount he scaled, Which is with azure circling lines empaled,° Much like a globe (a globe may I term this, By which love sails to regions full of bliss), Yet there with Sisyphus° he toiled in vain, Till gentle parley did the truce obtain.’ Wherein Leander on her quivering breast, Breathless spoke something, and sighed out the rest;

760

765

surrounded

Which so prevailed, as he, with small ado, Enclosed her in his arms and kissed her, too.

4. A hunter who happened on Diana bathing. She turned him into a stag, and he was killed by his own hounds. 5.

tried

A

monster,

half-bird,

half-woman,

who

snatches away banquets in Virgil’s Aeneid and Shakespeare’s Tempest. 6. Condemned in Hades endlessly to roll a stone uphill, 7. In both the authoritative early printings of the poem (1598), the lines here numbered 775—84 follow at this point (i.e., they precede the lines

here numbered 763—74). Like almost all modern

editors, though, we have adopted the rearrangement first made in 1910 by Tucker Brooke, in his edition of Marlowe's Works. The original order, Brooke thought, did not make good sense; he hypothesized that two sheets of Marlowe’s manuscript had been accidentally reversed by the time (five years after his death) the poem was printed. Students may, though, want to read the passage both ways and make up their own minds as to which order is preferable.

HERO

AND

And every kiss to her was as a charm, And to Leander as a fresh alarm,°

LEANDER

|

677

call to battle

So that the truce was broke, and she, alas,

“I “I vi

780

Poor silly°® maiden, at his mercy was. Love is not full of pity, as men say, But deaf and cruel, where he means to prey. Even as a bird which in our hands we wring Forth plungeth and oft flutters with her wing, She trembling strove; this strife of hers, like that Which made the world,* another world begat Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought, And cunningly to yield herself she sought. Seeming not won, yet won she was, at length. (In such wars women use but half their strength.)

innocent

Leander now, like Theban Hercules,

790

800

805

810

Entered the orchard of th’ Hesperides, Whose fruit none rightly can describe but he That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree. And now she wished this night were never done, And sighed to think upon th’ approaching sun, For much it grieved her that the bright daylight Should know the pleasure of this blesséd night, And them like Mars and Erycine! displayed, Both in each other’s arms chained as they laid. Again she knew not how to frame her look Or speak to him who in a moment took That which so long so charily°® she kept; And fain® by stealth away she would have crept And to some corner secretly have gone, Leaving Leander in the bed alone. But as her naked feet were whipping out, He on the sudden clinged her so about That mermaid-like unto the floor she slid: One half appeared, the other half was hid. Thus near the bed she blushing stood upright; And from her countenance behold ye might A kind of twilight break, which through the hair, As from an orient® cloud, glims° here and there, And round about the chamber this false morn Brought forth the day before the day was born. So Hero’s ruddy cheek Hero betrayed, And her all naked to his sight displayed, Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure took Than Dis? on heaps of gold fixing his look. By this Apollo’s golden harp began

carefully gladly

bright / gleams

To sound forth music to the Ocean,

8. The Greek philosopher Empedocles held that creation was the result of love and strife acting in opposition to each other and alternately ruling the universe. 9. One of Hercules’ labors was to get the golden apples of the Hesperides, guarded by a dragon.

Hercules was born in Thebes. 1. Aname for Venus, who was caught in bed with

Mars by her husband, Vulcan, who enmeshed them in a fine chain net. 2. Pluto, god of the underworld and of wealth.

678

sis

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

Which watchful Hesperus? no sooner heard But he the day’s bright-bearing car prepared, And ran before, as harbinger of light, And with his flaring beams mocked ugly Night Till she, o’ercome with anguish, shame, and rage,

Danged?® down to hell her loathsome carriage.

hurled

Desunt nonnulla.°

something is lacking

1598

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love! Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove®

test, experience

That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,

Woods, or steepy mountain yields. Vi

And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses

10

And a thousand fragrant posies,°

bouquets (also of poems)

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle® Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

15

20

dress

A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love. 1599, 1600

3. The evening star; one would expect Lucifer, the morning star. 1. This pastoral lyric of invitation is one of the most famous of Elizabethan songs, and a few lines

from it are sung in Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor. Many poets have written replies to it, the best known of which is by Sir Walter Ralegh (p. 527).

679

Doctor

Faustus

Marlowe’s major dramas, Tamburlaine,

The Jew of Malta,

and Doctor Faustus, all portray heroes who passionately seek power—the power of rule, the power of money, and the power of knowledge, respectively. Each of the heroes, like the playwright himself, is an overreacher, striving to get beyond the conventional boundaries established to contain the human will. Unlike Tamburlaine, whose aim and goal is “the sweet fruition of an earthly crown,” or Barabas, the Jew of Malta, who lusts for “infinite riches in a little room,” Faustus seeks the mastery and voluptuous pleasure that come from forbidden knowledge. To achieve his goal Faustus must make—or chooses to make—a bargain with Lucifer. This is an old folklore motif, but it would have been taken seriously in a time when belief in the reality of devils was almost universal. The story's power over its original audience is vividly suggested by the numerous accounts of uncanny events at performances of the play: strange noises in the theater or extra devils who suddenly appeared among the actors onstage, causing panic. In the opening soliloquy, Marlowe's Faustus bids farewell to each of his studies— logic, medicine, law, and divinity—as things he has mastered and found unfulfilling. He turns instead to black magic, but the devil exacts a fearful price in exchange: the eternal damnation of Faustus’s soul. Whether Faustus freely chooses to pay this price, in order to acquire hidden knowledge, or whether he is predestined to do so, is unclear. Renaissance theologians fiercely debated the question of fate versus free will, and their arguments are reflected in the play. Faustus’s fall is caused by the same pride and ambition that caused the fall of the angels in heaven and of humankind in the Garden of Eden. But it is characteristic of Marlowe that he makes this catastrophic aspiration nonetheless a magnificent human venture. The immediate source of the play is a German narrative called, in its English translation, The History of the Damnable Life and Deserved Death of Doctor John Faustus. That source supplies Marlowe’s drama with the scenes of horseplay and low practical joking that contrast so markedly with the passages of huge ambition. It is quite possible that these comic scenes are the work of a collaborator; but no other Elizabethan could have written the first scene (with its brilliant representation of the insatiable aspiring mind of the hero), the ecstatic address to Helen of Troy, or the searing scene of Faustus’s last hour. And though compared with these celebrated passages the comic scenes often seem crude, they too contribute to the overarching vision of Faustus’s fate: the half-trivial, half-daring exploits, the alternating states of bliss and despair, the questions that are not answered and the answers that bring no real satisfaction, the heroic wanderings that lead nowhere. Marlowe’s play exists in two very different forms: the A text (1604) and the much

longer B text (1616). Even the earlier version dates from some fifteen years after the play was actually written and contains later interpolations. The B text almost certainly incorporates additions by other hands and was also revised to conform to the severe censorship statutes of 1606. We use Roma Gill’s edition, based on the A text.

Following the play are parallel versions of a key scene that will enable the reader to compare the two texts.

680

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus DRAMATIS PERSONAE! CHORUS DR. JOHN FAUSTUS WAGNER, his servant, a student VALDES his friends, magicians CORNELIUS BELZEBUB OLD MAN CLOWN ROBIN ostlers at an inn RAFE VINTNER HORSE-COURSER THE POPE THE CARDINAL OF LORRAINE CHARLES V, EMPEROR OF GERMANY A KNIGHT at the EMPEROR'S court DUKE OF VANHOLT DUCHESS OF VANHOLT

THREE SCHOLARS GOOD ANGEL EVIL ANGEL MEPHASTOPHILIS LUCIFER

Spirits presenting THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS PRIDE COVETOUSNESS WRATH ENVY GLUTTONY SLOTH LECHERY ALEXANDER THE GREAT and his PARAMOUR HELEN OF TROY ATTENDANTS,

FRIARS,

and DEVILS

Prologue [Enter cHorus.|?

vw

cHorus’ Not marching now in fields of Thrasimene, Where Mars? did mate® the Carthaginians, Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, In courts of kings where state® is overturned, Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, Intends our Muse to vaunt his heavenly verse: Only this (Gentlemen) we must perform, The form of Faustus’ fortunes good or bad. To patient judgments we appeal our plaud,° And speak for Faustus in his infancy:

join with political power

applause

Now is he born, his parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town called Rhodes;*

Of riper years to Wittenberg’ he went, Whereas? his kinsmen chiefly brought him up. So soon he profits in divinity,° The fruitful plot of scholarism graced, That shortly he was graced with doctor’s name,°

1. There is no list of characters in the A text. The one here is an editorial construction.

2. A single actor who recited a prologue to an act or a whole play, and occasionally delivered an epilogue. 3. God of war. The battle of Lake Trasimene (217

B.C.E.) was one of the Carthaginian leader Hannibal’s great victories.

where theology

4. Roda, or Stadtroda, in Germany. 5. The famous university where Martin Luther studied, as did Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Horatio. 6. The lines play on two senses of graced: he so (1) adorned the place (“plot”) of scholarship— i.e., the university—that shortly he was (2) hon-

ored with a doctor’s degree.

DOCTOR

FAUSTUS,

S GENE

DI

|

681

Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes’ In heavenly matters of theology. 20

Till, swollen with cunning,° of a self-conceit,

His And For And 25

waxen wings did mount above his reach, melting heavens conspired his overthrow.® falling to a devilish exercise, glutted more with learning’s golden gifts,

He surfeits upon cursed necromancy:°

black magic

Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss.’ And this the man! that in his study sits. SCENE

knowledge

[Exit.|

|

[Enter Faustus in his study.] FAUSTUS Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess: Having commenced, be a divine in show,? Yet level° at the end of every art,

aim

And live and die in Aristotle’s works.

Sweet Analytics,* ’tis thou hast ravished me. Bene disserere est finis logices.* Is to dispute well logic’s chiefest end? Affords this art no greater miracle? Then read no more, thou hast attained the end;

A greater subject fitteth Faustus’ wit.°

intellect

Bid on kai me on? farewell; Galen® come:

Seeing, ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus.’ Be a physician, Faustus, heap up gold, And be eternized for some wondrous cure. Summum bonum medicinae sanitas:®

20

The end of physic® is our body’s health. Why Faustus, hast thou not attained that end? Is not thy common talk found aphorisms?” Are not thy bills? hung up as monuments, Whereby whole cities have escaped the plague, And thousand desperate maladies been eased?

medicine

prescriptions

Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.

Couldst thou make men to live eternally, 25

Or, being dead, raise them to life again,

7. Referring to formal disputations, academic exercises that occupied the place now held by examinations.

8. In Greek myth, Icarus flew too near the sun on wings of feathers and wax made by his father, Daedalus;

the wax melted, and he fell into the

sea and drowned. 9. The salvation of his soul. j. Apparently a cue for the Chorus to draw aside

the curtain to the enclosed space at the rear of the stage. 2. In external appearance. “Commenced”: grad-

uated, i.e., received the doctor’s degree. 3. The title of two treatises on logic by Aristotle. 4. To carry on a disputation well is the end [or purpose] of logic (Latin). 5. Being and not being (Greek); here standing for philosophical studies in general. 6. The supreme ancient authority on medicine (2nd century C.E.).

7. Where the philosopher leaves off the physician begins (Latin). 8. The Latin is translated in the following line. 9. Le., generally accepted wisdom.

682

30

40

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

Then this profession were to be esteemed. Physic farewell! Where is Justinian?! Si una eademque res legatur duobus, Alter rem alter valorem rei, etc. A pretty case of paltry legacies. Exhereditare filium non potest pater nisi. . . 3 Such is the subject of the Institute And universal Body of the Law: This study fits a mercenary drudge Who aims at nothing but external trash! Too servile and illiberal for me. When all is done, divinity is best. Jerome’s Bible,* Faustus, view it well: Stipendium peccati mors est:> ha! Stipendium, etc. The reward of sin is death? That’s hard.

Si pecasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis veritas:° If we say that we have no sin, We deceive ourselves, and there’s no truth in us. Why then belike® we must sin, And so consequently die. Ay, we must die an everlasting death. What doctrine call you this? Che sara, sara:

in all likelihood

What will be, shall be? Divinity, adieu! 50

These metaphysics® of magicians And necromantic books are heavenly!

occult lore

Lines, circles, schemes, letters, and characters!

Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. O what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honor, of omnipotence Is promised to the studious artisan!” All things that move between the quiet® poles Shall be at my command: emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several° provinces,

unmoving

separate

Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds; 60

But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man: A sound magician is a mighty god. Here, Faustus, try thy brains to gain a deity. [Enter WAGNER. |

Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends, The German Valdes and Cornelius,

1, Roman emperor and authority on law (483— 565 c.k.). The Latin passages that follow paraphrase Justinian’s Institutiones, a manual included in his Corpus Iuris (Body of the Law); cf. lines 32-33).

2. If something is bequeathed to two persons, one shall have the thing itself, the other something of equal value. 3. A father cannot disinherit his son unless. . .

4. The

Latin translation, or Vulgate, of Saint

Jerome (ca. 340—420 c.k.).

5. Romans 6.23. But Faustus reads only part of the Scripture verse: “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” 6. | John 1.8 (translated in the following two lines).

7. A practitioner of an art; here, necromancy.

DOCTOR

ATAU SHU

Shes GIN

Request them earnestly to visit me. WAGNER | I will, sir.

eral

|

683

[Exit.|

FAusTUS Their conference will be a greater help to me Than all my labors, plod I ne'er so fast. [Enter the GOOD ANGEL and the EVIL ANGEL. |

O Faustus, lay that damnéd book aside, And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul And heap God’s heavy wrath upon thy head: Read, read the Scriptures; that is blasphemy.

GOOD

ANGEL

EVIL ANGEL

Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art,

Wherein all nature’s treasury is contained: Be thou on earth as Jove® is in the sky, Lord and commander of these elements.

How am I glutted with conceit® of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate® enterprise I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,’ And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates. I'll have them read me strange philosophy, And tell the secrets of all foreign kings; I'll have them wall all Germany with brass, And make swift Rhine circle fair Wittenberg;! I'll have them fill the public schools? with silk, Wherewith the students shall be bravely® clad. I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring,

FAUSTUS

80

100

[Exeunt.| filled with the idea

reckless

splendidly

And chase the Prince of Parma?’ from our land,

And reign sole king of all our provinces. Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp’s bridge,* I'll make my servile spirits to invent. Come German Valdes and Cornelius,

And make me blest with your sage conference. [Enter VALDES and CORNELIUS. | Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius,

Know that your words have won me at the last To practise magic and concealed’ arts;

Yet not your words only, but mine own fantasy,° That will receive no object’ for my head,

i.e., occult

imagination

But ruminates on necromantic skill.

8. God—a common substitution in Elizabethan drama. 9. Pearl of Orient—the especially lustrous pearl from the seas around India. 1. Wittenberg is in fact on the Elbe River. 2. The university lecture rooms. 3. The duke of Parma, the Spanish governorgeneral of the Low Countries from 1579 to 1592.

In 1588 he commanded the Spanish Armada in its failed attempt to invade England. 4. A reference to the burning ship sent by the Protestant Netherlanders in 1585 against the barrier on the river Scheldt that Parma had built as a part of the blockade of Antwerp. 5. That will pay no attention to physical reality.

684

CHRISTOPHER

|

MARLOWE

110

Philosophy is odious and obscure, Both law and physic are for petty wits; Divinity is basest of the three, Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile. "Tis magic, magic that hath ravished me.

115

And I, that have with concise syllogisms Graveled® the pastors of the German church And made the flowering pride of Wittenberg Swarm to my problems? as the infernal spirits

Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt, confounded

On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell,’

Will be as cunning as Agrippa was, Whose shadows made all Europe honor him.*® VALDES 120

Faustus, these books, thy wit,° and our experience

intellect

Shall make all nations to canonize us. As Indian Moors? obey their Spanish lords, So shall the spirits of every element Be always serviceable to us three. Like lions shall they guard us when we please, Like Almaine rutters® with their horsemen’s staves,

German horsemen

Or Lapland giants trotting by our sides; Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids,

130

Shadowing® more beauty in their airy brows Than in the white breasts of the Queen of Love. From Venice shall they drag huge argosies,° And from America the golden fleece That yearly stuffs old Philip’s treasury,!

harboring merchant ships

If learnéd Faustus will be resolute. Valdes, as resolute am I in this

FAUSTUS 135

As thou to live, therefore object it not.? The miracles that magic will perform Will make thee vow to study nothing else. He that is grounded in astrology, Enriched with tongues,° well seen® in minerals, Hath all the principles magic doth require:

CORNELIUS

140

languages / expert

Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowned

145

And more frequented? for this mystery°® Than heretofore the Delphian oracle.’ The spirits tell me they can dry the sea, And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks, Ay, all the wealth that our forefathers hid

6. Questions posed for public academic disputa-

visited / craft

the period could refer to either the East Indies or

tion.

the West Indies.)

7. Musaeus was a legendary singer, supposed son

1. Comparing the treasures Philip Il of Spain received from the Americas to the Golden Fleece taken, in Greek mythology, from Colchis by Jason and the Argonauts. (Evidently the Venetian argo-

of Orpheus; it was, however, Orpheus who charmed the denizens of hell with his music. 8. Cornelius Agrippa, German author of The Vanity and Uncertainty of Arts and Sciences (1530), was popularly believed to have had the power of calling up the “shadows” or shades of the dead. 9. Dark-skinned

Native Americans.

(“India” in

sies put Marlowe in mind of Jason’s ship, the Argo.)

2. Le., do not make an issue of my resolve.

3. The oracle of Apollo at Delphi in Greece.

DOGTOREEAUSTA

USFS GENE!

2

|

Within the massy° entrails of the earth.

685

massive

Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want?° 150

lack

FAusTus Nothing, Cornelius. O this cheers my soul! Come, show me some demonstrations magical, That I may conjure in some lusty° grove, And have these joys in full possessién. VALDES Then haste thee to some solitary grove,

pleasant

And bear wise Bacon’s and Abanus” works, The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament;

And whatsoever else is requisite We will inform thee ere our conference cease. CORNELIUS Valdes, first let him know the words of art,” And then, all other ceremonies learned,

Faustus may try his cunning by himself. VALDES

First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments,

And then wilt thou be perfecter® than I. FAUSTUS 165

more accomplished

Then come and dine with me, and after meat

We'll canvass every quiddity° thereof: For ere I sleep, I'll try what I can do. This night I'll conjure,° though? I die therefore.

essential feature

call up spirits / even if

[Exeunt.| SCENE

2

[Enter two SCHOLARS.| 1 scHOLAR’ I wonder what’s become of Faustus, that was wont to

make our schools ring with sic probo.° 2 SCHOLAR That shall we know; for see, here comes his boy.’ [Enter WAGNER. |

1 scHOLAR How now, sirra,® where’s thy master? WAGNER God in heaven knows. 2 SCHOLAR Why, dost not thou know? WAGNER

10

] SCHOLAR 15)

Yes I know, but that follows not.

1 SCHOLAR’ Go to,’ sirra, leave your jesting, and tell us where he is. WAGNER That follows not necessary by force of argument, that you, being licentiates,' should stand upon’t; therefore acknowledge your error, and be attentive. 2 SCHOLAR Why, didst thou not say thou knew’st? WAGNER Have you any witness on’t? Yes, sirra, I heard you.

WAGNER Ask my fellow if I be a thief.” 2 SCHOLAR Well, you will not tell us. WAGNER | Yes sir, I will tell you; yet if you were not dunces you would never ask me such a question. For is not he corpus naturale? And is

4. Roger Bacon, the 13th-century friar and scientist popularly thought to be a magician, and Pietro d’Abano, 13th-century alchemist. 5. Le., the technical terms.

6. Thus I prove; a phrase in scholastic disputation.

7. In this case, a poor student acting as a servant

to earn his living. 8. A variant of “sir,” used condescendingly. 9. Come on! 1. Graduate students. 2. Le., the testimony of your companion (“fellow”) is worth no more than one thief’s testimony for another.

686

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

not that mobile?? Then wherefore should you ask me such a question? But that I am by nature phlegmatic,* slow to wrath and prone to lechery—to love I would say—it were not for you to come within forty foot of the place of execution,’ although I do not doubt to see you both hanged the next sessions.° Thus having triumphed over you, I will set my countenance like a precisian,’ and begin to speak thus: Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, it would inform your worships. And so the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren. [Exit.] 1 SCHOLAR 30

Nay then, I fear he is fallen into that damned art, for

which they two are infamous through the world. 2 SCHOLAR Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should I grieve for him. But come, let us go and inform the rector,® and see

35

if he by his grave counsel can reclaim him. 1 scHoLtaR O but I fear me nothing can reclaim him. 2 SCHOLAR Yet let us try what we can do. SCENE

[Exeunt.|

3

[Enter FAUSTUS to conjure.| FAUSTUS Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth, Longing to view Orion’s drizzling look,’ Leaps from th’antarctic world unto the sky, wn

And dims the welkin® with her pitchy breath, Faustus, begin thine incantations,

And try if devils will obey thy hest,° Seeing thou hast prayed and sacrificed to them.

sky command

Within this circle! is Jehovah’s name, 10

Forward and backward anagrammatized; Th’bbreviated names of holy saints, Figures of every adjunct? to the heavens, And characters of signs and erring stars,* By which the spirits are enforced to rise. Then fear not Faustus, but be resolute,

And try the uttermost magic can perform. Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen

triplex Jehovae!

Ignei, aerii, aquatici, terreni spiritus salvete! Orientis princeps, Bel-

zebub" inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon,> propitiamus vos 3. Corpus naturale et mobile (matter natural and movable) was a scholastic definition of the subject

matter of physics. Wagner is here parodying the language of learning at the university. 4. Dominated by the phlegm, one of the four humors (bodily fluids) whose relative proportions were thought to determine a person's physical and psychological qualities. 5. Le., if I were not slow to anger, it would be fatally dangerous for you to come near me. 6. Sittings of a court. 7. Puritan. The rest of his speech is in the style of the Puritans. 8. The head of aGerman university. 9. The constellation Orion appears at the begin-

ning of winter. The phrase is a reminiscence of Virgil.

1. The magic circle drawn on the ground, within which the magician would be safe from the spirits he conjured. 2. Heavenly body thought to be joined to the solid

firmament of the sky. 3. The moving planets. “Characters of signs”: signs of the zodiac and the planets. 4. Lord of the Flies; an ancient Phoenician deity. In Matthew 12.24 he is called “the prince of the devils.” 5. In Renaissance versions of classical mythology, a mysterious primeval god.

DOCTOR

20

RAUSTUSH

aS GENIE

3S

|

687

ut appareat et surgat Mephastophilis. Quid tu moraris? Per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus Mephastophilis.® [Enter a DEVIL.|

25

30

I charge thee to return and change thy shape, Thou art too ugly to attend on me; Go and return an old Franciscan friar, That holy shape becomes a devil best. I see there’s virtue® in my heavenly words! Who would not be proficient in this art? How pliant is this Mephastophilis, Full of obedience and humility, Such is the force of magic and my spells. Now Faustus, thou art conjurer laureate® That canst command great Mephastophilis. Quin redis, Mephastophilis, fratris imagine!’

[Exit DEVIL.]

power

preeminent

[Enter MEPHASTOPHILIS. | MEPHASTOPHILIS Now Faustus, what would’st thou have me do?

I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, FAUSTUS' To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. 40

45

50

MEPHASTOPHILIS I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave;

No more than he commands must we perform. Did not he charge thee to appear to me? FAusTus_ No, I came now hither of mine own accord. MEPHASTOPHILIS Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? Speak! FAUSTUS MEPHASTOPHILIS That was the cause, but yet per accidens,* For when we hear one rack’ the name of God, repudiate Abjure® the Scriptures, and his savior Christ, We fly in hope to get his glorious soul; Nor will we come unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damned: Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the prince of hell. So Faustus hath already done, and holds this principle: raustus There is no chief but only Belzebub,

To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word damnation terrifies not him,

6. Faustus’s Latin conjures the devils: “May the gods of the lower regions favor me! Farewell to the Trinity! Hail, spirits of fire, air,

Gehenna, and the holy water that | now sprinkle, and the sign of the cross that I now make, and by our vows, may Mephastophilis himself

water, and earth! Prince of the East, Belzebub,

now rise to serve us.”

monarch of burning hell, and Demogorgon, we pray to you that Mephastophilis may appear and rise. What are you waiting for? By Jehovah,

7. Return, Mephastophilis, in the shape of a friar. 8. The immediate, not ultimate, cause, 9. Torture; here, by anagrammatizing.

688

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For he confounds hell in Elysium: His ghost be with the old philosophers.’ But leaving these vain trifles of men’s souls, Tell me, what is that Lucifer thy lord? MEPHASTOPHILIS Arch-regent and commander of all spirits. FAusTus Was not that Lucifer an angel once? MEPHASTOPHILIS Yes Faustus, and most dearly loved of God. FAustus How comes it then that he is prince of devils? MEPHASTOPHILIS _O, by aspiring pride and insolence, For which God threw him from the face of heaven. rausTus And what are you that live with Lucifer? MEPHASTOPHILIS Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspired against our God with Lucifer, And are forever damned with Lucifer. FAUSTUS Where are you damned? MEPHASTOPHILIS — In hell. FAUSTUS How comes it then that thou art out of hell? MEPHASTOPHILIS Why this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think’st thou that I, who saw the face of God,

80

And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells In being deprived of everlasting bliss?? O Faustus, leave these frivolous demands,°

85

90

questions

Which strike a terror to my fainting soul. FAusTusS. What, is great Mephastophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of heaven? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer: Seeing Faustus hath incurred eternal death By desp’rate thoughts against Jove’s deity, Say he surrenders up to him his soul, So° he will spare him four and twenty years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness, Having thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask,

on condition that

To tell me whatsoever I demand,

To slay mine enemies and aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will. Go, and return to mighty Lucifer, 100

And meet me in my study at midnight And then resolve me of thy master’s mind.# MEPHASTOPHILIS — I will, Faustus.

[Exit.|

FAusTUS Had I as many souls as there be stars I'd give them all for Mephastophilis.

1. Faustus considers hell to be the Elysium of the classical philosophers, not the Christian hell

of torment. 2. This is the punishment of loss of God’s pres-

,

ence, which is supposed to be the greatest torment of hell.

3. Le., give me his decision.

DOCTOR)

105

FAUST USH

(SCENE

4

|

689

By him I'll be great emperor of the world, And make a bridge through the moving air To pass the ocean with a band of men; Pll join the hills that bind the Afric shore,

110

And make that land continent to° Spain, And both contributory to my crown. The emperor? shall not live but by my leave,

connected to

i.e., Holy Roman Emperor

Nor any potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtained what I desire,

I'll live in speculation? of this art Till Mephastophilis return again. SCENE

contemplation

[Exit.] 4

[Enter WAGNER and the CLowN.*}

WAGNER | Sirra boy,’ come hither. cLown How, boy? Zounds, boy! I hope you have seen many boys with such pickadevants as I have. Boy, quotha!® WAGNER Tell me, sirra, hast thou any comings in?’ CLOWN Ay, and goings out too; you may see else.°® WAGNER Alas poor slave, see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness! The villain is bare, and out of service,’ and so hungry that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood raw. CLOWN How, my soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton though ‘twere blood raw? Not so good, friend; by’rlady,!' I had need have it

well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear. WAGNER

Well, wilt thou serve me, and I'll make thee go like qui mihi

discipulus?* CLowN WAGNER

26

How, in verse? No, sirra; in beaten silk and stavesacre.

3

cLown How, how, knavesacre?* Ay, I thought that was all the land his father left him! Do ye hear, I would be sorry to rob you of your living. WAGNER __ Sirra, I say in stavesacre. CLOwN'

Oho, oho, stavesacre! Why then belike, if |were your man,

I should be full of vermin. WAGNER 25

So thou shalt, whether thou be’st with me or no. But sirra,

leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars,’ and they shall tear thee in pieces.

4. Not a court jester (as in some of Shakespeare's plays) but an older stock character, a rustic buffoon. 5. God's wounds; an oath.

6. Says he. The point of the clown’s retort is that he is a man and wears a beard. “Pickadevants’: small, pointed beards. 7. Income, but the clown then puns on the literal meaning. 8. Le., if you don’t believe me. 9. Out of a job.

1. By Our Lady; an oath. 2. You who are my pupil (the opening phrase of a poem on how students should behave, from Lily’s Latin Grammar,

ca.

1509). Wagner means

“like a proper servant of a learned man.” 3. A preparation from delphinium seeds, used for killing vermin. 4. Wordplay, here and in the following lines. 5. Familiar spirits, demons. “Bind yourself”: i.e., as apprentice. “Presently”: immediately.

690

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CHRISTOPHER

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cLown Do you hear, sir? You may save that labor: they are too familiar with me already—zounds, they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for my meat and drink. 30

WAGNER

35

cLown Gridirons; what be they? WAGNER Why, French crowns.’ cLown ‘Mass, but for the name of French crowns a man were as good have as many English counters!* And what should I do with these?

Well, do you hear, sirra? Hold, take these guilders.®

WAGNER

40.

Why, now, sirra, thou art at an hour’s warning whensoever

or wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee. cLown No, no, here take your gridirons again. WAGNER Truly I'll none of them. CLOWN Truly but you shall. WAGNER Bear witness I gave them him. cLown ' Bear witness I give them you again.

45

WAGNER Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away. Baliol? and Belcher! CLOWN Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and Ill knock! them, they were never so knocked since they were devils! Say I should kill one of them, what would folks say? “Do ye see yonder tall fellow in the round slop? He has killed the devil!” So I should be called “Killdevil” all the parish over. [Enter two DEVILS, and the CLOWN runs up and down crying.|

50

WAGNER Baliol and Belcher, spirits, away! [Exeunt DEVILS.] CLOWN What, are they gone? A vengeance on them! They have vile long nails. There was a he devil and a she devil. I'll tell you how you shall know them: all he devils has horns,* and all she devils has

clefts and cloven feet. 55

WAGNER’

Well, sirra, follow me.

CLOWN But do you hear? If Ishould serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos? WAGNER | will teach thee to turn thyself to anything, to a dog, or a cat, or

60

65

a mouse,

or a rat, or anything.

CLOWN How! A Christian fellow to a dog or a cat, a mouse or a rat? No, no, sir, if you turn me into anything, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here, and there, and everywhere. O I'll tickle the pretty wenches’ plackets!* I'll be amongst them, i’faith.® WAGNER Well, sirra, come.

CLOWN But do you hear, Wagner. . . ? WAGNER How? Baliol and Belcher! cLown O Lord I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep.

6. Coins. “Hold”: here. 7. The coins, legal tender in England at this period, were easily counterfeited. 8. Worthless tokens. “Mass”: by the Mass. 9. Probably a corruption of Belial.

2. Baggy pants. “Tall”: fine. 3. Traditional mark both of devils and of cuckolded husbands. 4. Slits in garments—but with an obvious sexual allusion.

1. Beat.

5. In faith; an oath,

DOCTOR

70

FAUST US)

(SCENE

5

691

WAGNER Villain, call me Master Wagner; and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigias nostras insistere.°

[Exit.|

cLown

God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian!” Well, I’ll follow

him, I'll serve him; that’s flat.

[Exit.| SCENE 5

[Enter FAustus in his study.]

FAUSTUS Now Faustus, must thou needs be damned, And canst thou not be saved. What boots? it then to think of God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair, Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub. Now go not backward: no, Faustus, be resolute; Why waverest thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears: “Abjure this magic, turn to God again.” Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again. To God? He loves thee not: The god thou servest is thine own appetite, Wherein is fixed the love of Belzebub. To him [ll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of newborn babes.

avails

[Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL.|

GOOD ANGEL Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable?® art. accursed FAUSTUS Contrition, prayer, repentance: what of them? GOOD ANGELO they are means to bring thee unto heaven. EVIL ANGEL Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That makes men foolish that do trust them most. GOOD ANGEL Sweet Faustus, think of heaven, and heavenly things. EVIL ANGEL

is)wn

No, Faustus, think of honor and of wealth.

— [Exeunt.]

FAUsTUS Of wealth! Why, the signory® of Emden® shall be mine, When Mephastophilis shall stand by me. What god can hurt thee, Faustus? Thou art safe, Cast no more doubts. Come, Mephastophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer. Is’t not midnight? Come, Mephastophilis: Veni, veni, Mephastophile!”

lordship

[Enter MEPHASTOPHILIS. | 30

Now tell, what says Lucifer thy lord? MEPHASTOPHILIS

35

That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,

So° he will buy my service with his soul. provided that rAustus Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee. MEPHASTOPHILIS But Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood,

6. A pedantic way of saying “Follow my footsteps.” “Diametarily”: diametrically. 7. Gibberish.

8. A wealthy German trade center. 9. Come, come, Mephastophilis!

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For that security°® craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell. rAustus Stay, Mephastophilis, and tell me, What good will my soul do thy lord? MEPHASTOPHILIS Enlarge his kingdom. raustus Is that the reason he tempts us thus?

guarantee

MEPHASTOPHILIS Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.' FausTuS Have you any pain that tortures others? MEPHASTOPHILIS As great as have the human souls of men. But tell me Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. raustus Ay Mephastophilis, I give it thee. MEPHASTOPHILIS Then stab thine arm courageously, And bind thy soul, that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own,

an an

And then be thou as great as Lucifer. FAusTUS Lo Mephastophilis, for love of thee, I cut my arm, and with my proper® blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer’s, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night.

own

View here the blood that trickles from mine arm,

And let it be propitious for my wish. MEPHASTOPHILIS 60

But Faustus, thou must write it

In manner of a deed of gift. FAusTUS — Ay, so I will; but, Mephastophilis,

My blood congeals and I can write no more. MEPHASTOPHILIS — I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight.

raustus What might the staying of my blood portend? Is it unwilling I should write this bill?° Why streams it not, that | may write afresh: “Faustus gives to thee his soul”? Ah, there it stayed! Why should’st thou not? Is not thy soul thine own? Then write again: “Faustus gives to thee his soul.” [Enter MEPHASTOPHILIS with a chafer? of coals.| MEPHASTOPHILIS Here’s fire, come Faustus, set it on. FAUsTUS So, now the blood begins to clear again. Now will I make an end immediately. MEPHASTOPHILIS QO what will not I do to obtain his soul! FAUSTUS

[Exit.|

contract

a portable grate

Consummatum est,’ this bill is ended,

And Faustus hath bequeathed his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription on mine arm?

Homo fuge.° Whither should I fly?

O man, fly

If unto God, he’ll throw me down to hell. My senses are deceived, here’s nothing writ; 80

I see it plain, here in this place is writ, Homo fuge! Yet shall not Faustus fly. 1. Misery loves company.

2. It is finished. A blasphemy, because these are the words of Christ on the Cross (John 19.30).

DOCTOR

MEPHASTOPHILIS

FAUSTUS SS: GENES

I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind.

|

[Exit.|

[Enter with DEVILS, giving crowns and rich apparel to FAUSTUS, and dance, and then depart.|

85

90

95

100

FAUSTUS Speak, Mephastophilis, what means this show? MEPHASTOPHILIS Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal, And to show thee what magic can perform. FAUSTUS But may I raise up spirits when I please? MEPHASTOPHILIS Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these. FAusTUS Then there’s enough for a thousand souls! Here, Mephastophilis, receive this scroll, A deed of gift of body and of soul: But yet conditionally, that thou perform All articles prescribed between us both. MEPHASTOPHILIS Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us made. FAUsTUS Then hear me read them. On these conditions following: First, that Faustus may be a spirit* in form and substance. Secondly, that Mephastophilis shall be his servant, and at his command. Thirdly, that Mephastophilis shall do for him, and bring him whatsoever. Fourthly, that he shall be in his chamber or house invisible. Lastly, that he shall appear to the said John Faustus at all times, in what form or shape soever he please. I, John Faustus of Wittenberg, doctor, by these presents,* do give both body and soul to Lucifer, Prince of the East, and his minister Mephastophilis; and furthermore grant unto them that, four and twenty years being expired, the articles above-written inviolate, full power to fetch or carry the said John Faustus, body and soul, flesh, blood, or goods, into their habitation wheresoever.

110

By me John Faustus. MEPHASTOPHILIS Speak, Faustus: do you deliver this as your deed? FAUSTUS Ay, take it; and the devil give thee good on't. MEPHASTOPHILIS

Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt.

FAustus First will I question with thee about hell: Tell me, where is the place that men call hell? MEPHASTOPHILIS Under the heavens. FAUSTUS Ay, but whereabouts? MEPHASTOPHILIS Within the bowels of these elements, Where we are tortured and remain for ever. Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is, there must we ever be.

(125

And to conclude, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that is not heaven. FAUSTUS

Come, I think hell’s a fable.

3. L.e., have the supernatural powers of a spirit.

4. Legal articles.

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MEPHASTOPHILIS —Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind. raustus Why? think’st thou then that Faustus shall be damned? MEPHASTOPHILIS —Ay, of necessity, for here’s the scroll Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. FAustus Ay, and body too; but what of that? Think’st thou that Faustus is so fond® to imagine foolish That after this life there is any pain? Tush, these are trifles and mere old wives’ tales. MEPHASTOPHILIS But Faustus, | am an instance to prove the

135

contrary:

For

Iam damned, and am now in hell.

FAUSTUS How, now in hell? Nay, and this be hell, I'll willingly be damned here! What? walking, disputing, etc... . But leaving off 140

this, let me have a wife, the fairest maid in Germany, wanton and lascivious, and cannot live without a wife.

MEPHASTOPHILIS FAusTUS.

for I am

How, a wife? I prithee Faustus, talk not of a wife.’

Nay sweet Mephastophilis,

fetch me one, for I will have

one. MEPHASTOPHILIS Well, thou wilt have one; sit there till I come. I'll fetch thee a wife in the devil’s name. [Exit.| [Enter with a pEviL dressed like a woman, with fireworks.|

MEPHASTOPHILIS ‘Tell, Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife? FAusTUSs A plague on her for a hot whore! MEPHASTOPHILIS ‘Tut, Faustus, marriage is but a ceremonial toy; If thou lovest me, think no more of it. 150

I'll cull thee out the fairest courtesans And bring them every morning to thy bed: She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope,°

As wise as Saba,’ or as beautiful

160

As was bright Lucifer before his fall. Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly: The iterating® of these lines brings gold; repeating The framing? of this circle on the ground drawing Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder and lightning. Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself, And men in armor shall appear to thee, Ready to execute what thou desirest. FAusTUus Thanks, Mephastophilis, yet fain would I have a book wherein I might behold all spells and incantations, that | might raise up spirits when I please. MEPHASTOPHILIS

Here they are in this book.

[There turn to them.]

FAUsTUS Now would I have a book where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and dispositions.®

5. Mephastophilis cannot produce a wife for Faustus because marriage is a sacrament. 6. The wife of Ulysses, famed for chastity and fidelity.

7. The queen of Sheba, who tested Solomon's wisdom with “hard questions” (1 Kings 10). 8. Relationships to other planets. “Characters”: occult symbols.

DOCTOR

170

175

FAUSTIUSH

S CENIENS

|

6915

MEPHASTOPHILIS Here they are too. {Turn to them.| FausTuS Nay, let me have one book more, and then I have done,

wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees that grow upon the earth. Here they be. MEPHASTOPHILIS FAUSTUS O thou art deceived! MEPHASTOPHILIS ‘Tut, | warrant? thee. [Turn to them.| Faustus When | behold the heavens, then I repent, And curse thee, wicked Mephastophilis,

180

Because thou hast deprived me of those joys. MEPHASTOPHILIS Why Faustus, Think’st thou that heaven is such a glorious thing? 1 tell thee ‘tis not half so fair as thou,

Or any man that breathes on earth. FAUSTUS. How prov’st thou that? 185

It was made for man, therefore is man more excellent. MEPHASTOPHILIS FAUSTUS _ If it were made for man, ‘twas made for me:

I will renounce this magic, and repent. [Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL.|

190

195

200

Faustus, repent, yet® God will pity thee. GOOD ANGEL EVIL ANGEL Thou art a spirit,? God cannot pity thee. +FAUSTUS Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit? Be La devil, yet God may pity me. Ay, God will pity me if I repent. EVIL ANGEL Ay, but Faustus never shall repent. FAUSTUS. My heart's so hardened | cannot repent!

still evil spirit, devil

[Exeunt.|

Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven, But fearful echoes thunders in mine ears, “Faustus, thou are damned”; then swords and knives,

Poison, guns, halters,° and envenomed steel Are laid before me to dispatch myself: And long ere this | should have slain myself, Had not sweet pleasure conquered deep despair. Have I not made blind Homer sing to me

hangman's nooses

Of Alexander’s! love, and Oenon’s death?

205

210

And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp,” Made music with my Mephastophilis? Why should I die then, or basely despair? I am resolved! Faustus shall ne'er repent. Come, Mephastophilis, let us dispute again, And argue of divine astrology. Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon? Are all celestial bodies but one globe,

9. Assure.

and when he died of them, she killed herself in

1, Alexander is another name for Paris, the lover

remorse.

of Oenone; later he deserted her and abducted Helen, causing the Trojan War. Oenone refused

2. The legendary musician Amphion, whose harp caused stones, of themselves, to form the

to heal

walls of Thebes.

the wounds

Paris

received

in battle,

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

As is the substance of this centric earth?? MEPHASTOPHILIS As are the elements, such are the spheres, Mutually folded in each other’s orb. And, Faustus, all jointly move upon one axletree Whose termine? is termed the world’s wide pole,

Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feigned, but are erring stars.* FAusTUS

230

Nw Ww wi

240

But tell me, have they all one motion, both situ et tempore?

MEPHASTOPHILIS All jointly move from east to west in four-andtwenty hours upon the poles of the world, but differ in their motion upon the poles of the zodiac.° FAustus ‘Tush, these slender trifles Wagner can decide! Hath Mephastophilis no greater skill? Who knows not the double motion of the planets? The first is finished in a natural day, the second thus: as Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve; Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the Moon in twenty-eight days. Tush, these are freshmen’s suppositions. But tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia?’ MEPHASTOPHILIS — Ay. FAUSTUS How many heavens or spheres are there? MEPHASTOPHILIS Nine: the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal heaven. 8 FAUSTUS Well, resolve me then in this question: why have we not conjunctions, oppositions, 9 aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less? MEPHASTOPHILIS Per inaequalem motum respectu totius.! FAUSTUS Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world? MEPHASTOPHILIS — [| will not.

FAUSTUS

Sweet Mephastophilis, tell me. Move? me not, for I will not tell thee. FAusTUS Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me anything? MEPHASTOPHILIS Ay, that is not against our kingdom; but this is.

MEPHASTOPHILIS i) - vi

Think thou on hell, Faustus, for thou art damned. Think, Faustus, upon God, that made the world. MEPHASTOPHILIS Remember this.

urge

FAUSTUS

FAUSTUS tw wilSo

[Exit.]

Ay, go accursed spirit, to ugly hell,

"Tis thou hast damned distressed Faustus’ soul: Is’t not too late?

3. Faustus asks whether all the apparently different heavenly bodies really form “one globe” like the earth. Mephastophilis answers that like the elements, which are separate but combined, the heavenly bodies are separate but their spheres are enfolded, and they move (according to the ancient Ptolemaic cosmology) on a single axle. 4. It is appropriate

to give individual

names

to

Saturn, Mars, Jupiter, and the other planets— which are called wandering, or “erring” stars. The

fixed stars were in the eighth sphere (the firmament, or crystalline sphere). 5. In position and in time.

6. The common axletree on which all the spheres revolve. 7. An angel, or intelligence, thought to be the source of motion in each sphere. 8. The ninth sphere was the immovable empy-

rean, 9. When two planets are most remote from each other. “Conjunctions”: the apparent joinings of two planets. These are two of the planetary “aspects” (relative positions) that figure in astrology. 1. Because

of their respect of the whole.

unequal

movements

in

DOGCTEORGEAUSTUISH

SIGENES5

|

697

[Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL.|

EVIL ANGEL Too late. GOOD ANGEL Never too late, if Faustus will repent. EVIL ANGEL If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces. GOOD ANGEL Repent, and they shall never raze® thy skin.

graze [Exeunt.|

Faustus Ah Christ my Savior! seek to save Distresséd Faustus’ soul! [Enter LUCIFER, BELZEBUB, and MEPHASTOPHILIS. |

260

265

LUCIFER Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just. There’s none but I have interest in the same. FAUSTUS O who art thou that look’st so terrible? LUCIFER I am Lucifer, and this is my companion prince in hell. FAUSTUS O Faustus, they are come to fetch away thy soul! LUCIFER We come to tell thee thou dost injure us. Thou talk’st of Christ, contrary to thy promise. Thou should’st not think of God; think of the devil,

And his dam? too. FAUSTUS. Nor will I henceforth: pardon me in this, And Faustus vows never to look to heaven, Never to name God, or to pray to him, 270

To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers, And make my spirits pull his churches down. LUCIFER Do so, and we will highly gratify thee. Faustus, we are come from hell to show thee some pastime; sit down, and thou shalt see all the Seven Deadly Sins? appear in their proper shapes. FAUusTUS. That sight will be as pleasing unto me as Paradise was to Adam, the first day of his creation. LUCIFER ‘Talk not of Paradise, nor creation, but mark this show;

talk of the devil and nothing else. Come away. [Enter the SEVEN DEADLY SINS.|

Now Faustus, examine them of their several names and disposi280

tions. FAUSTUS

What art thou, the first?

PRIDE I am Pride: I disdain to have any parents. I am like to Ovid’s flea, I can creep into every corner of a wench: sometimes like a periwig,* I sit upon her brow; or like a fan of feathers, I kiss her lips. 285

Indeed I do—what do I not! But fie, what a scent’ is here? I'll not

speak another word, except the ground were perfumed and covered with cloth of arras.° FAUSTUS 290

What art thou, the second?

COVETOUSNESS I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl’ in an old leathern bag; and might I have my wish, I would desire that this 2. Mother. “The devil and his dam” was acommon colloquial expression.

4, Wig. “Ovid's flea”: a salacious medieval poem “Carmen de pulice” (Song of the Flea) was attrib-

3. Pride, avarice, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and

uted to Ovid.

sloth, called deadly because they lead to spirtual death. All other sins are said to grow out of them (cf. the procession of the Seven Deadly Sins in Spenser's The Faerie Queene, Book 1, canto 4,

5. Stink. 6. Arras in Flanders exported fine cloth used for tapestry hangings. “Except”: unless. 7. Miser.

stanzas 16—37).

698

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

house, and all the people in it, were turned to gold, that I might lock you up in my good chest. O my sweet gold! FAUusSTUS

What art thou, the third?

wratH nNOo wn

[am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leaped out of

a lion’s mouth when I was scarce half an hour old, and ever since

I have run up and down the world with this case® of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal. I was born in hell— and look to it, for some of you” shall be my father. FAUSTUS.

300

ENVY

What art thou, the fourth?

Iam Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife.

I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt; I am lean

305

with seeing others eat—O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone; then thou should’st see how fat I would be! But must thou sit and I stand? Come down, with a vengeance! FAUSTUS

310

315

FAusTUS

320

325

Away, envious rascal! What art thou, the fifth?

GLUTTONY Who, I sir? | am Gluttony. My parents are all dead, and the devil a penny they have left me but a bare pension, and that is thirty meals a day and ten bevers!—a small trifle to suffice nature. O, I come of a royal parentage: my grandfather was a gammon? of bacon, my grandmother a hogshead of claret wine; my godfathers were these: Peter Pickled-Herring, and Martin Martlemas-Beef.* O but my godmother! She was a jolly gentlewoman, and well-beloved in every good town and city; her name was Mistress Margery March-Beer.* Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny;? wilt thou bid me to supper? FAusTus. No, I'll see thee hanged; thou wilt eat up all my victuals. GLUTTONY Then the devil choke thee! Choke thyself, Glutton. What art thou, the sixth?

SLOTH Iam Sloth; I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have lain ever since—and you have done me great injury to bring me from thence. Let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and Lechery. I'll not speak another word for a king’s ransom. FAUSTUS LECHERY

What are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last? Who, | sir? 1am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better

than an ell of fried stockfish;° and the first letter of my name begins with Lechery. LUCIFER Away! To hell, to hell! Now Faustus, how dost thou like this?

330

[Exeunt the sins.|

FAUSTUS O this feeds my soul! LUCIFER ‘Tut, Faustus, in hell is all manner of delight. FAustus O might I see hell, and return again, how happy were I then! 8. Pair.

4. Arich ale, made in March.

9. I.e., some in the audience. 1. Snacks.

5. Lineage. 6. Dried cod, associated

2. The lower side of pork, including the leg. 3. Meat, salted to preserve it during the winter, was prepared around Martinmas (November 11).

with

sexual

coldness

and impotence. “Mutton”: frequently a bawdy term in Elizabethan English; here, the penis. “Ell”: forty-five inches.

DOCTOR

LUCIFER

FAUSTUS,

SCENE

6

|

699

Thou shalt; I will send for thee at midnight. In meantime,

take this book, peruse it thoroughly, and thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt. FAUSTUS Great thanks, mighty Lucifer; this will I keep as chary’ as my life. LUCIFER 340

Farewell, Faustus; and think on the devil.

FAUSTUS

Farewell, great Lucifer; come, Mephastophilis. [Exeunt OMNES.| SCENE

6

[Enter RosIN the ostler® with a book in his hand.]

vi

ROBIN O this is admirable! here I ha’ stolen one of Doctor Faustus’ conjuring books, and i’faith I mean to search some circles? for my own use: now will I make all the maidens in our parish dance at my pleasure stark naked before me, and so by that means I shall see more than ere I felt or saw yet. [Enter RAFE calling ROBIN.|

RAFE Robin, prithee come away, there’s a gentleman tarries! to have his horse, and he would have his things rubbed and made clean. He keeps such a chafing? with my mistress about it, and she has sent me to look thee out. Prithee, come away. ROBIN Keep out, keep out; or else you are blown up, you are dismembered, Rafe. Keep out, for |am about a roaring’ piece of work. RAFE Come, what dost thou with that same book? Thou canst not read! ROBIN

Yes, my master and mistress shall find that I can read—he

for his forehead,’ she for her private study. She’s born to bear with me,’ or else my art fails. RAFE

20

Why Robin, what book is that?

ROBIN What book? Why the most intolerable® book for conjuring that ere was invented by any brimstone devil. RAFE Canst thou conjure with it? ROBIN

| can do all these things easily with it: first, | can make thee

drunk with ‘ipocrase’ at any tavern in Europe for nothing, that’s one of my conjuring works. 25

30

RAFE Our master parson says that’s nothing. ROBIN ‘True, Rafe! And more, Rafe, if thou hast any mind to Nan Spit, our kitchen maid, then turn her and wind her to thy own use, as often as thou wilt, and at midnight. RAFE_ O brave Robin! Shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own use? On that condition I'll feed thy devil with horsebread as long as he

lives, of free cost.®

. Carefully. . Hostler, stablehand.

cuckold him. 5. Le., bear his weight, or bear him a child.

. Magicians’ circles, but with a sexual innuendo.

6. Irresistible.

Is waiting. . Scolding.

7. Robin’s pronunciation of “hippocras,” a spiced wine.

Dangerous. L.e., Robin intends to give his master horns— BWM OWN

8. Free of charge. “Horsebread”: fodder.

700

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

ROBIN No more, sweet Rafe; let’s go and make clean our boots which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the [Exeunt.|

devil’s name. CHORUS

WAGNER

wi

2

[Enter WAGNER solus.| _Learned Faustus,

To know the secrets of astronomy Graven in the book of Jove’s high firmament, Did mount himself to scale Olympus” top. Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoked dragons’ necks. He now is gone to prove cosmography, | And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome To see the pope, and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter’s feast,” That to this day is highly solemnized. SCENE

[Exit WAGNER. |

7

[Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHASTOPHILIS. |

FAUSTUS Having now, my good Mephastophilis, Passed with delight the stately town of Trier,’ Environed round with airy mountain tops, With walls of flint, and deep entrenchéd lakes,°

moats

Not to be won by any conquering prince; From Paris next, coasting® the realm of France,

traversing

We saw the river Main fall into Rhine,

Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines; Then up to Naples, rich Campania, With buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye, The streets straight forth, and paved with finest brick, Quarters the town in four equivalents; There saw we learned Maro’s* golden tomb, The way° he cut, an English mile in length, Thorough? a rock of stone in one night’s space.

tunnel

through

From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest,

In midst of which a sumptuous temple® stands That threats the stars with her aspiring top. Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time. But tell me now, what resting place is this?

St. Mark's in Venice

Hast thou, as erst® I did command,

earlier

Conducted me within the walls of Rome? MEPHASTOPHILIS

—Faustus, I have; and because we will not be unpro-

vided, I have taken up his holiness’ privy chamber’ for our use. 9. The home of the gods in Greek mythology. 1. To test the accuracy of maps. 2. Saint Peter’s feast is June 29.

Virgil was considered a magician whose powers produced a tunnel on the promontory of Posilippo at Naples, near his tomb.

3. Treves (in Prussia).

5. Private quarters.

4. Virgil’s. In medieval

legend the Roman

poet

DOCTOR

FAUsTUS

SGENE

7

|

7O1

I hope his holiness will bid us welcome.

MEPHASTOPHILIS

35

FAUSTUS,

‘Tut, ‘tis no matter, man, we'll be bold with his good

cheer.® And now, my Faustus, that thou may’st perceive What Rome containeth to delight thee with, Know that this city stands upon seven hills That underprop the groundwork of the same; Just through the midst runs flowing Tiber’s stream, With winding banks, that cut it in two parts; Over the which four stately bridges lean, That makes safe passage to each part of Rome. Upon the bridge called Ponte Angelo Erected is a castle passing’ strong,

40

45

Within whose walls such store of ordnance are And double cannons, framed of carved brass, As match the days within one complete year— Besides the gates and high pyramides? obelisks Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa. FAUsTUS Now by the kingdoms of infernal rule, Of Styx, Acheron, and the fiery lake Of ever-burning Phlegethon,® I swear That I do long to see the monuments And situation of bright-splendent Rome. Come therefore, let’s away. MEPHASTOPHILIS Nay, Faustus, stay. | know you'd fain see the pope, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars, Whose summum bonum? is in belly-cheer. FAUSTUS Well, I am content to compass! then some sport, And by their folly make us merriment. Then charm me that I may be invisible, to do what I please unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome. MEPHASTOPHILIS

[casts a spell on him]

So Faustus, now do what

thou wilt, thou shalt not be discerned. [Sound a sennet;* enter the porE and the CARDINAL OF LORRAINE

60

to the banquet, with FRIARS attending. | POPE My lord of Lorraine, will’t please you draw near? FAUSTUS Fall to; and the devil choke you and? you spare. POPE

How now, who's that which spake? Friars, look about.

] FRIAR Here’s nobody, if it like* your holiness. pope My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent to me from the bishop of Milan. 65

FAUsTUS.

[| thank you, sir.

6. Entertainment. 7. Surpassingly. Actually

the castle

[Snatch it.]

is on

the

bank, not the bridge. 8. Classical names for rivers of the underworld. 9. The greatest good; often refers to God.

1. 2. 3. 4.

Take part in. A set of notes on the trumpet or cornet.

If. “Fall to”: start eating. Please.

TO2

|

pore

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

How now, who’s that which snatched the meat from me? Will

no man look? My lord, this dish was sent me from the cardinal of Florence. FAUSTUS 70

75

You say true? I'll have’t.

[Snatch it.]

pope What, again! My lord, I'll drink to your grace. raustus I'll pledge’ your grace. [Snatch the cup.| LORRAINE My lord, it may be some ghost newly crept out of purgatory come to beg a pardon of your holiness. pope It may be so; friars, prepare a dirge® to lay the fury of this ghost. Once again my lord, fall to. [The pore crosseth himself.] FAustus What, are you crossing of your self? Well, use that trick no more, I would advise you. [Cross again. |

FAusTUS Well, there’s the second time; aware’ the third! I give you fair warning. [Cross again, and Faustus hits him a box of the ear, and they all run away. | 80

Come on, Mephastophilis, what shall we do? MEPHASTOPHILIS Nay, | know not; we shall be cursed with bell, book, and candle.® FAusTUS How! Bell, book, and candle; candle, book, and bell, Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell.

Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, and an ass bray, Because it is St. Peter’s holy day. | FRIAR

[Enter all the Friars to sing the Dirge.| Come brethren, let’s about our business with good devotion. [Sing this.]

90

Cursed be he that stole away His Holiness’ meat from the table. Maledicat Dominus.? Cursed be he that struck His Holiness a blow on the face. Maledicat Dominus. Cursed be he that took Friar Sandelo a blow on the pate. Maledicat Dominus. Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge. Maledicat Dominus. Cursed be he that took away His Holiness’ wine. Maledicat dominus. Et omnes sancti.' Amen. [Beat the Friars, and fling fireworks among them, and so Exeunt.| SCENE

8

[Enter ROBIN and RAFE with a silver goblet.] ROBIN Come, Rafe, did not I tell thee we were forever made by this Doctor Faustus’ book? Ecce signum!* Here’s a simple purchase for horsekeepers: our horses shall eat no hay as long as this lasts. 5. Toast. 6. A requiem mass. But what actually follows is a litany of curses.

7. Beware. 8. The traditional paraphernalia for cursing and

excommunication. 9. May the Lord curse him. 1. And all the saints (also curse him),

2. Behold the proof.

DOCTOR

FAUSTUS,

SCENE

8

|

[Enter the VINTNER.|

RAFE But Robin, here comes the vintner. ROBIN Hush, I'll gull? him supernaturally! Drawer,* | hope all is paid; God be with you. Come, Rafe. VINTNER Soft, sir, a word with you. I must yet have a goblet paid from you ere you go. ROBIN I, a goblet, Rafe? I, a goblet? I scorn you: and you are but a etc... . 1, a goblet? Search me. VINTNER

I mean so, sir, with your favor.

[Searches ROBIN. |

ROBIN How say you now? VINTNER I must say somewhat to your fellow; you, sir! RAFE Me, sir? Me, sir? Search your fill. Now sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter of truth. VINTNER [searches RAFE] Well, t’one of you hath this goblet about

you. ROBIN You lie, drawer; ’tis afore me. Sirra you, I'll teach ye to impeach® honest men: [to RAFE] stand by. [to the vinTNER] I'll scour

20

you for a goblet—stand aside, you were best—I charge you in the name of Belzebub—look to the goblet, Rafe! VINTNER What mean you, sirra? ROBIN

25

I'll

tell

you

what

I mean:

[he

reads]

Sanctobulorum

Periphrasticon—nay, I'll tickle you, vintner—look to the goblet, Rafe—Polypragmos Belseborams framanto pacostiphos _ tostis

Mephastophilis, etc.’.. . [Enter MEPHASTOPHILIS: about.| VINTNER O nomine

30

Domine!?

sets squibs® at their backs: they run What

mean’st

thou, Robin?

Thou

hast no goblet. RAFE Peccatum peccatorum!' Here’s thy goblet, good vintner. ROBIN Misericordia pro nobis!* What shall I do? Good devil, forgive me now, and I'll never rob thy library more. [Enter to them MEPHASTOPHILIS.|

MEPHASTOPHILIS

Vanish, villains, th’one like an ape, another like a

bear, the third an ass, for doing this enterprise. 35

40

[Exit VINTNER. |

Monarch of hell, under whose black survey Great potentates do kneel with awful fear; Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie; How am I vexéd with these villains’ charms! From Constantinople am I hither come,

Only for pleasure of these damnéd slaves. ROBIN How, from Constantinople? You have had a great journey! Will you take sixpence in your purse to pay for your supper, and be gone?

3. Trick.

onstage only long enough to set off the firecrackers

4. Wine drawer.

and is not seen by Robin, Rafe, or the vintner. He

5. The actor might ad lib abuse at this point. 6. Accuse. 7. Dog-Latin, as Robin attempts to conjure from Faustus’s book. 8. Firecrackers. Evidently Mephastophilis is

then reenters at line 32. 9. In the name of the Lord. The Latin invocations are used in swearing, 1. Sin of sins! 2. Have mercy on us!

704

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

Well, villains, for your presumption, I transform MEPHASTOPHILIS [Exit.] thee into an ape, and thee into a dog; and so begone! ROBIN How, into an ape? That's brave:? I'll have fine sport with the boys; I’ll get nuts and apples enow.* RAFE And I must be a dog. I’faith, thy head will never be out of the potage’ pot. RoBIN [Exeunt.|

CHORUS

3

[Enter CHORUS.°|

Vv

cHorus When Faustus had with pleasure ta’en the view Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings, He stayed his course, and so returned home, Where such as bare his absence but with grief— I mean his friends and nearest companions— Did gratulate his safety with kind words. And in their conference of what befell,

Touching his journey through the world and air, They put forth questions of astrology, Which Faustus answered with such learnéd skill As they admired and wondered at his wit. Now is his fame spread forth in every land:

10

Amongst

the rest the emperor

is one,

Carolus the Fifth,’ at whose palace now Faustus is feasted ‘mongst his noblemen. What

there

he did in trial° of his art

demonstration

I leave untold: your eyes shall see performed.

[Exit.]

SCENE 9

[Enter EMPEROR, FAUSTUS, and a KNIGHT, with Attendants.|

wa

10

EMPEROR Master Doctor Faustus, I have heard strange report of thy knowledge in the black art, how that none in my empire, nor in the whole world, can compare with thee for the rare effects of magic. They say thou hast a familiar spirit, by whom thou canst accomplish what thou list! This therefore is my request: that thou let me see some proof of thy skill, that mine eyes may be witnesses to confirm what mine ears have heard reported. And here I swear to thee, by the honor of mine imperial crown, that whatever thou dost, thou shalt be in no ways prejudiced or endamaged. KNIGHT [aside]

I’faith, he looks much like a conjuror.

FAusTus. My gracious sovereign, though I must confess myself far inferior to the report men have published, and nothing answerable to® the honor of your imperial majesty, yet for that love and duty binds me thereunto, | am content to do whatsoever your majesty shall command me. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Splendid. Enough. Porridge. l.e., Wagner.

7. The Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (reigned 1519-56). 8. Not at all deserving of.

}

DOCTOR

20

30

45

50

9

|

705

I’faith, that’s just nothing at all.

FAusTUS But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes, which long since are consumed to dust. KNIGHT [aside] Ay, marry,* master doctor, now there’s a sign of grace in you, when you will confess the truth. FAUsTUS But such spirits as can lively resemble Alexander and his paramour shall appear before your grace, in that manner that they best lived in, in their most flourishing estate:4 which I doubt not shall sufficiently content your imperial majesty. EMPEROR Go to, master doctor, let me see them presently.’ KNIGHT Do you hear, master doctor? You bring Alexander and his paramour before the emperor! FAUSTUS

55

SCENE

EMPEROR Then Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say. As I was sometime solitary set within my closet,’ sundry thoughts arose about the honor of mine ancestors—how they had won by prowess such exploits, got such riches, subdued so many kingdoms, as we that do succeed, or they that shall hereafter possess our throne, shall (I fear me) never attain to that degree of high renown and great authority. Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great! chief spectacle of the world’s pre-eminence: The bright shining of whose glorious acts Lightens the world with his reflecting beams; As when I hear but motion® made of him, mention It grieves my soul I never saw the man. If therefore thou, by cunning of thine art, Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below, Where lies entombed this famous conqueror, And bring with him his beauteous paramour,’ Both in their right shapes, gesture, and attire They used to wear during their time of life, Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live. FausTus My gracious lord, | am ready to accomplish your request, so far forth as by art and power of my spirit I am able to perform. KNIGHT [aside]

40

FAUSTUS,

How then, sir?

KNIGHT faith, that’s as true as Diana turned me to a stag. FAusTUS No sir; but when Actaeon died, he left the horns® for you! Mephastophilis, begone. [Exit MEPHASTOPHILIS.| KNIGHT Nay, and’ you go to conjuring I'll be gone. [Exit KNiGHT.] FAusTuS I'l] meet with you anon‘® for interrupting me so. Here they are, my gracious lord.

9. Private chamber. 1. The emperor traces his ancestry to the world conqueror (356-323 B.C.E.). 2. Probably Roxana, Alexander's wife. 3. To be sure. 4, Condition. 5. Immediately. 6. Horns were traditionally a sign of the cuck-

olded husband (cf. Scene 6, lines 14-15). “Actaeon”: the hunter of classical legend who happened to see the goddess Diana bathing. For punishment he was changed into a stag; he was then chased and killed by his own hounds. 1 Ur 8. Shortly. “Meet with”: be revenged on,

706

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

[Enter MEPHASTOPHILIS with ALEXANDER and his PARAMOUR.|

60

EMPEROR Master doctor, | heard this lady, while she lived, had a wart or mole in her neck; how shall I know whether it be so or no? FAustus Your highness may boldly go and see. [The EMPEROR examines the lady's neck.| EMPEROR

Sure, these are no spirits, but the true substantial bodies

of those two deceased princes. [Exit ALEXANDER (and his PARAMOUR).|

65

FAustus Will’t please your highness now to send for the knight that was so pleasant with me here of late? EMPEROR One of you call him forth. [Enter the KNIGHT with a pair of horns on his head.] How now, sir knight? Why, I had thought thou hadst been a bachelor, but now I see thou hast a wife that not only gives thee horns but makes thee wear them! Feel on thy head. KNIGHT Thou damnéd wretch and execrable® dog, detestable Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock,

~I wi

How dar’st thou thus abuse a gentleman? Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done. FAUSTUS O not so fast, sir, there’s no haste but good.? Are you remembered! how you crossed me in my conference with the emperor? I think I have met with you for it. EMPEROR

80

Good master doctor, at my entreaty release him; he hath

done penance sufficient. FAustus My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight; which being all I desire, I am content to release him of his horns. And, sir knight, hereafter

speak well of scholars: Mephastophilis, transform him straight.? Now, my good lord, having done my duty, I humbly take my leave. EMPEROR Farewell, master doctor; yet ere you go, expect from me a bounteous reward. [Exit EMPEROR (and his ATTENDANTS). |

rausTUs

Now, Mephastophilis, the restless course

That time doth run with calm and silent foot,

90

Shortening my days and thread of vital life, Calls for the payment of my latest years; Therefore, sweet Mephastophilis, let us make haste to Wittenberg. MEPHASTOPHILIS What, will you go on horseback or on foot? rAustus Nay, till | am past this fair and pleasant green, I'll walk on foot. SCENE

10

[Enter aHORSE-COURSER.?|

HORSE-COURSER I have been all this day seeking one Master Fustian: ’Mass,* see where he is! God save you, master doctor. 9. A proverb: no point hurrying, unless it’s to good effect. 1. Have you forgotten. 2. Immediately.

3. Horse trader, traditionally a sharp bargainer or cheat, d 4. By the Mass. “Fustian”: the horse-courser’s comic mistake for Faustus’s name.

DOCTOR

20

EAUS

GUST

S'CENIE

110

|

707

FAusTuS What, horse-courser: you are well met. HORSE-COURSER Do you hear, sir; I have brought you forty dollars® for your horse. FAUSTUS I cannot sell him so: if thou lik’st him for fifty, take him. HORSE-COURSER Alas sir, | have no more. I pray you speak for me. MEPHASTOPHILIS I pray you let him have him; he is an honest fellow, and he has a great charge’—neither wife nor child. FausTUS Well, come, give me your money; my boy will deliver him to you. But I must tell you one thing before you have him: ride him not into the water at any hand.’ HORSE-COURSER Why sir, will he not drink of all waters? FAUSTUS O yes, he will drink of all waters, but ride him not into the water. Ride him over hedge or ditch, or where thou wilt, but not into the water. HORSE-COURSER Well sir. Now am I made man forever: I'll not leave my horse for forty! If he had but the quality of hey ding ding, hey ding ding,* I'd make a brave living on him! He has a buttock as slick as an eel. Well, God b’y,’ sir; your boy will deliver him me. But hark ye sir, if my horse be sick, or ill at ease, if I bring his water’ to you, you'll tell me what it is? [Exit HORSE-COURSER.|

FAUSTUS

Away, you villain! What, dost think I am a horse-doctor?

What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemned to die?

Thy fatal time® doth draw to final end. Despair doth drive distrust unto my thoughts. Confound these passions with a quiet sleep: Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the cross.” Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit.°

30

time allotted by fate

in mind

[Sleep in his chair.] [Enter HORSE-COURSER all wet, crying.| HORSE-COURSER Alas, alas, Doctor Fustian, quotha?* Mass, Doc-

35

tor Lopus* was never such a doctor! H’as given me a purgation, h’as purged me of forty dollars! I shall never see them more. But yet, like an ass as I was, I would not be ruled by him; for he bade me I should ride him into no water. Now I, thinking my horse had had some rare quality that he would not have had me known of, I, like a vent’rous’ youth, rid him into the deep pond at the town’s end. I was no sooner in the middle of the pond, but my horse vanished away, and I sat upon a bottle® of hay, never so near drowning in my life! But I'll seek out my doctor, and have my forty dollars

40

again, or I’ll make it the dearest’ horse. O, yonder is his snipper-

snapper!® Do you hear, you hey-pass,’ where’s your master? 5 Common

German coins.

6. Burden. 7. On any account. 8. I.e., he wishes his horse were a stallion, not a gelding, so he could put him to stud. 9. Good-bye (contracted from “God be with you”). 1. Urine. 2. In Luke 23.39—43 one of the two thieves crucified with Jesus is promised paradise. “Tush”: a

scoffing exclamation.

3. He said.

4. In February 1594 Roderigo Lopez, the queen’s personal physician, was executed for plotting to

poison her. Obviously Marlowe, who died in 1593, did not write the line. 5, Adventurous. . Bundle. . Most expensive.

. Insignificant youth; a whipper-snapper. . Aconjurer’s phrase.

CO © NID

708

45

50

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

MEPHASTOPHILIS him. HORSE-CouRSER

Why, sir, what would you? You cannot speak with But I will speak with him.

MEPHASTOPHILIS

Why, he’s fast asleep; come some other time.

HORSE-COURSER I'll speak with him now, or I'l] break his glasswindows! about his ears. MEPHASTOPHILIS I tell thee, he has not slept this eight nights. HORSE-couRSER And he have not slept this eight weeks I'll speak with him. MEPHASTOPHILIS See where he is, fast asleep. HORSE-COURSER Ay, this is he; God save ye, master doctor, master doctor, master Doctor Fustian, forty dollars, forty dollars for a

bottle of hay!

60

MEPHASTOPHILIS

Why, thou seest he hears thee not.

HORSE-COoURSER

So ho ho; so ho ho.? [Halloo in his ear.] No, will you

not wake? I’ll make you wake ere I go. [Pull him by the leg, and pull it away.| Alas, 1am undone! What shall I do? FAUSTUS O my leg, my leg! Help, Mephastophilis! Call the officers! My leg, my leg! MEPHASTOPHILIS

65

70

Come villain, to the constable.

HORSE-COURSER O Lord, sir! Let me go, and I'll give you forty dollars more. MEPHASTOPHILIS Where be they? HORSE-COURSER I have none about me: come to my ostry® and I'll give them you. MEPHASTOPHILIS Begone quickly! [HORSE-COURSER runs away.] FAUsTUS What, is he gone? Farewell he: Faustus has his leg again, and the horse-courser—I take it—a bottle of hay for his labor! Well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more. [Enter WAGNER. |

How now, Wagner, what’s the news with thee? WAGNER Sir, the duke of Vanholt* doth earnestly entreat your

company. FAUSTUS The duke of Vanholt! An honorable gentleman, to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning.” Come, Mephastophilis, let’s away to him.

[Exeunt.| SCENE

DUKE me. FAUSTUS

|]

[FAUSTUS and MEPHASTOPHILIS return to the stage. Enter to them the DUKE and the DucHEss; the DUKE speaks.] Believe me, master doctor, this merriment hath much pleased

My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well: but it

may be, madam, you take no delight in this; | have heard that

1. Spectacles. 2. The huntsman’s quarry.

cry,

when

he sights

the

3. Hostelry, inn. 4. The duchy of Anhalt, in central Germany. 5. I.e., must generously display my skill.

DOCTOR

PRAUST USM

SIGENE

2

|

709

great-bellied® women do long for some dainties or other—what is it, madam? Tell me, and you shall have it. DUCHESS

Thanks, good master doctor; and for I see your courteous

intent to pleasure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart desires. And were it now summer, as it is January and the dead of winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish of ripe grapes. rausTUs Alas madam, that’s nothing! Mephastophilis, begone! [Exit MEPHASTOPHILIS.] Were it a greater thing than this, so it would content you, you should have it. [Enter MEPHASTOPHILIS with the grapes.| Here they be, madam; will’t please you taste on them?

DUKE

Believe me, master doctor, this makes me wonder above the

rest: that being in the dead time of winter, and in the month of January, how you should come by these grapes? FAusTus — If it like” your grace, the year is divided into two circles over the whole world, that when it is here winter with us, in the contrary circle it is summer with them, as in India, Saba,’ and farther coun-

20

25

tries in the east; and by means of a swift spirit that I have, I had them brought hither, as ye see. How do you like them, madam; be they good? DUCHESS Believe me, master doctor, they be the best grapes that ere I tasted in my life before. FAUSTUS I am glad they content you so, madam. DUKE

30

Come, madam,

let us in, where you must well reward this

learned man for the great kindness he hath showed to you. DUCHESS And so I will, my lord; and whilst I live, rest beholding for this courtesy. FAusTUS I humbly thank your grace. DUKE

Come, master doctor, follow us, and receive your reward. [Exeunt. |] CHORUS

4

[Enter WAGNER solus.|

WAGNER I think my master means to die shortly, For he hath given to me all his goods. And yet methinks, if that death were near, He would not banquet, and carouse, and swill

Amongst the students, as even now he doth, Who are at supper with such belly-cheer°® As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life. See where they come: belike the feast is ended. SCENE

gluttony [Exit.]

12

[Enter FAUSTUS (and MEPHASTOPHILIS), with two or three SCHOLARS.| SCHOLAR Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifulest in all the world, we have

N

Pregnant. Please.

8. The biblical kingdom of Sheba, in southwestern Arabia.

710

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived. Therefore, master doctor, if you will do us that favor as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much

beholding unto you. FAuSTUS Gentlemen, for that I know your friendship is unfeigned, And Faustus’ custom is not to deny The just requests of those that wish him well, You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, No otherways for pomp and majesty Than when Sir Paris crossed the seas with her And brought the spoils to rich Dardania.° Be silent then, for danger is in words.

Troy

[Music sounds, and HELEN passeth over the stage.|

25

2 SCHOLAR Too simple is my wit to tell her praise, Whom all the world admires for majesty. 3 scHoLAR No marvel though the angry Greeks pursued With ten years’ war the rape® of such a queen, Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare. 1 scHOLAR Since we have seen the pride of Nature’s works And only paragon of excellence, Let us depart; and for this glorious deed Happy and blest be Faustus evermore. FAUSTUS Gentlemen, farewell; the same I wish to you.

abduction

[Exeunt SCHOLARS.| [Enter an OLD MAN.|

oLD MAN’ Ah Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail To guide thy steps unto the way of life, By which sweet path thou may’st attain the goal That shall conduct thee to celestial rest. Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears,

Tears falling from repentant heaviness®

grief

Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness,

The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul With such flagitious® crimes of heinous sins, As no commiseration may expel But mercy, Faustus, of thy savior sweet,

Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt. FAUSTUS Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done! Damned art thou, Faustus, damned; despair and die! 40

Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice Says, “Faustus, come: thine hour is come!”

[MEPHASTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.|

And Faustus will come to do thee right. OLD MAN Ah stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! I see an angel hovers o’er thy head And with a vial full of precious grace Offers to pour the same into thy soul! Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. FAusTUsS Ah my sweet friend, I feel thy words

villainous

DOCTOR

FAUSTUS,

SCEN EVl2

|

711

To comfort my distresséd soul; Leave me awhile to ponder on my sins. OLD MAN I go, sweet Faustus; but with heavy cheer,°

heavy heart

Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. FAUSTUS Accurséd Faustus, where is mercy now? I do repent, and yet I do despair: Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast! What shall I do to shun the snares of death? MEPHASTOPHILIS

60

80

Thou traitor, Faustus: I arrest thy soul

For disobedience to my sovereign lord. Revolt,’ or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh. FAUSTUS Sweet Mephastophilis, entreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumptién; And with my blood again I will confirm My former vow I made to Lucifer. MEPHASTOPHILIS Do it then quickly, with unfeignéd heart, Lest greater danger do attend thy drift.° FAUSTUS

70

[Exit.]

intent

‘Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age®

That durst° dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments that our hell affords. MEPHASTOPHILIS — His faith is great, I cannot touch his soul, But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt—which is but little worth. FAUSTUS One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, To glut the longing of my heart’s desire: That I might have unto® my paramour That heavenly Helen which I saw of late, Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean These thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer. MEPHASTOPHILIS Faustus, this, or what else thou shalt desire, Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye.

aged man dared to

for

[Enter HELEN. |

FAUSTUS Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless’ towers of Ilium?°

Troy

Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss: 85

Her lips sucks forth my soul, see where it flies! Come Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips,

And all is dross that is not Helena! [Enter OLD MAN.| I will be Paris, and for love of thee,

Instead of Troy shall Wittenberg be sacked; 90

And I will combat with weak Menelaus,°

Helen’s husband

And wear thy colors on my pluméd crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,?

9. Turn back (to your allegiance to Lucifer). 1. Immeasurably high; matchless.

2. Achilles could be wounded only in his hee]l— where he was shot by Paris.

(2

95

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

And then return to Helen for a kiss. O thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars, Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appeared to hapless Semele;? More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa’s azured arms;*

100

And none but thou shalt be my paramour. OLD MAN’

[Exeunt (FAUSTUS and HELEN).| Accurséd Faustus, miserable man,

That from thy soul exclud’st the grace of heaven And fliest the throne of His tribunal seat! [Enter the DEVILS.| 105

Satan begins to sift me with his pride,’ As in this furnace God shall try my faith. My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee! Ambitious fiends, see how the heavens smiles

At your repulse, and laughs your state® to scorn. Hence hell, for hence I fly unto my God.

royal power [Exeunt.|

SCENE

13

[Enter FAUSTUS with the SCHOLARS.|

FAusTUS Ah gentlemen! I scHoLAR What ails Faustus? FAUSTUS Ah my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still;° but now I die eternally. Look, comes he not, comes

he not? 2 SCHOLAR 3 scHOLAR solitary. 1 scHOLAR

What means Faustus? Belike he is grown into some sickness by being overIf it be so, we'll have physicians to cure him;.’tis but a

surfeit:’ never fear, man.

Faustus_ A surfeit of deadly sin, that hath damned both body and soul. 2 SCHOLAR Yet Faustus, look up to heaven; remember God’s mercies are infinite. Faustus But Faustus’ offense can ne’er be pardoned! The serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Ah gentlemen, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches, though my heart pants and quivers to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years—O would I had never seen Wittenberg, never read book—and what wonders I have done, all Wittenberg can witness—yea, all the world; for which Faustus

3. A Theban girl, loved by Jupiter and destroyed by the fire of his lightning when he appeared to her in his full splendor. 4. Arethusa was the nymph of a fountain, as well as the fountain itself; she excited the passion of

the river god Alpheus, who was by some accounts related to the sun. 5. To test me with his strength. 6. Always. 7. Indigestion caused by overeating.

DOCTOR

ENUSTUS)

ISGENIE

N13

|

hath lost both Germany and the world—yea, heaven itself— heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of

joy; and must remain in hell forever—hell, ah, hell forever! Sweet 25

friends, what shall become of Faustus, being in hell forever?

3 SCHOLAR Yet Faustus, call on God. FAUSTUS On God, whom Faustus hath abjured? On God, whom

Faustus hath blasphemed? Ah, my God—I would weep, but the

devil draws in my tears! Gush forth blood, instead of tears—yea,

30

35

life and soul! O, he stays my tongue! I would lift up my hands, but see, they hold them, they hold them! ALL Who, Faustus? FausTus Lucifer and Mephastophilis! Ah gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning. ALL God forbid! FAUSTUS

40

God forbade it indeed, but Faustus hath done it: for the

vain pleasure of four-and-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill? with mine own blood, the date is expired, the time will come, and he will fetch me. | scHOLAR Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee? FAusTUS Oft have I thought to have done so, but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if |named God, to fetch both body and soul if Ionce gave ear to divinity; and now ’tis too late. Gentlemen,

45

away, lest you perish with me! 2 SCHOLAR O what shall we do to save Faustus? 3 SCHOLAR God will strengthen me. I will stay with Faustus. I scHOLAR

50

‘Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let us into the next

room, and there pray for him. FAUSTUS Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever ye hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. 2 SCHOLAR Pray thou, and we will pray, that God may have mercy upon thee. FAUSTUS

Gentlemen, farewell. If I live till morning, I'll visit you; if

not, Faustus is gone to hell. ALL

Faustus, farewell. [The clock strikes eleven.| FAUSTUS' Ah Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,

60

[Exeunt SCHOLARS. |

And then thou must be damned perpetually. Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come. Fair Nature’s eye, rise, rise again, and make

65

Perpetual day, or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul. O lente, lente currite noctis equi!”

8. Document. vu 9. Slowly, slowly run, O horses of the night (adapted from a line in Ovid's Amores).

i Abs)

714

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CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.

O I'll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down? 70

See, see where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!°

One drop would Ah, rend not my Yet will I call on Where is it now? ~I vi

sky

save my soul, half a drop: ah my Christ— heart for naming of my Christ; him—O spare me, Lucifer! ’Tis gone: and see where God

Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows! Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me,

And hide me from the heavy wrath of God. No, no?

Then will I headlong run into the earth: 80

85

Earth, gape! O no, it will not harbor me.

You stars that reigned at my nativity, Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist Into the entrails of yon laboring cloud, That when you vomit forth into the air My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to heaven.! [The watch strikes. |

Ah, half the hour is past: ’twill all be past anon.°

shortly

O God, if thou wilt not have mercy on my soul,

90

Yet for Christ’s sake, whose blood hath ransomed me, Impose some end to my incessant pain:

95

100

Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last be saved. O no end is limited to damnéd souls! Why wert thou not a creature wanting® soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras’ metempsychosis*—were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast: All beasts are happy, for when they die,

lacking

Their souls are soon dissolved in elements;

But mine must live still° to be plagued in hell. Cursed be the parents that engendered me!

always

No, Faustus, curse thy self, curse Lucifer,

105

That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven. [The clock striketh twelve. | O it strikes, it strikes! Now body, turn to air,

Or Lucifer will bear thee quick° to hell. [Thunder and lightning.

alive

O soul, be changed into little water drops And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found.

1, Faustus wants to be drawn up into a cloud, which would compact his body into a thunderbolt so that his soul, thus purified, might ascend to

heaven. 2. Pythagoras’s doctrine of the transmigration of souls.

DOCTOR

110

FAUSTUS,

EPILOGUE

|

715

My God, my God, look not so fierce on me! [Enter DEVILS.|

Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile! Ugly hell gape not! Come not, Lucifer! [ll burn my books—ah, Mephastophilis! [Exeunt with him.|

Epilogue [Enter CHORUS.|

wi

Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burnéd is Apollo’s laurel bough,’ That sometime grew within this learnéd man. Faustus is gone! Regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune® may exhort the wise Only to wonder at* unlawful things: Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits°® To practice more than heavenly power permits.

devilish fate aspiring minds [Exit.]

Terminat hora diem, terminat author opus.”

1604, 1616

3. The laurel crown of Apollo symbolizes (among other things) learning and wisdom. 4. Be content simply to observe with awe.

5. The hour ends the day, the author ends his work. This motto was probably added by the printer.

716

|

CHRISTOPHER

MARLOWE

The Two Texts of Doctor Faustus

The following excerpts enable read-

ers to compare a sample passage (from Scene 12) of the A text (1604) with the corre-

sponding passage of the B text (1616). (On the two texts, see p. 679.) Here the differences in tone and content in the two versions of the Old Man’s speech may signal different attitudes toward the finality of Faustus’s damnation.

Doctor Faustus, A Text [Enter an OLD MAN.|

OLD MAN. Ah Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail To guide thy steps unto the way of life, By which sweet path thou may’st attain the goal That shall conduct thee to celestial rest. 5

Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears,

Tears falling from repentant heaviness? Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness, The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul With such flagitious® crimes of heinous sins 10

grief

villainous

As no commiseration may expel But mercy, Faustus, of thy savior sweet,

Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt. FAUSTUS Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done! Damned art thou, Faustus, damned; despair and die!

15

Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice Says, “Faustus, come: thine hour is come!”

20

nN wa

[MEPHASTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.| And Faustus will come to do thee right. OLD MAN Ah stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! I see an angel hovers o’er thy head And with a vial full of precious grace Offers to pour the same into thy soul! Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. FAustus Ah my sweet friend, I feel thy words To comfort my distresséd soul; Leave me awhile to ponder on my sins. OLD MAN

30

I go, sweet Faustus; but with heavy cheer,°

Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. FAusTUS Accurséd Faustus, where is mercy now? I do repent, and yet I do despair: Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast! What shall I do to shun the snares of death? MEPHASTOPHILIS ‘Thou traitor, Faustus: I arrest thy soul For disobedience to my sovereign lord. Revolt,' or Pll in piecemeal tear thy flesh.

1. Turn back (to your allegiance to Lucifer).

heavy heart

[Exit.]

Wish

TMWAO)

MESS

WF

SOMONE TRON

(EAWISIRURS

|

Pili

Doctor Faustus, B Text [Enter an OLD MAN.|

OLD MANO gentle Faustus, leave this damnéd art This magic that will charm thy soul to hell And quite bereave thee of salvation. Though thou hast now offended like a man, Do not perséver? in it like a devil. Yet, yet, thou hast an amiable® soul,

If sin by custom grow not into nature. Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late; Then thou art banished from the sight of heaven. No mortal can express the pains of hell. It may be this my exhortatién

’

persevere worthy of (divine) love

Seems harsh and all unpleasant; let it not,

For, gentle son, I speak it not in wrath Or envy of° thee, but in tender love

And pity of thy future misery. And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, Checking® thy body, may amend thy soul. FAUSTUS

ill will toward

rebuking

Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done?

Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice 20

Nw UW

30

Says, “Faustus, come; thine hour is almost come”;

And Faustus now will come to do thee right. [MEPHOSTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.| OLD MAN O stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps. I see an angel hover o'er thy head, And with a vial full of precious grace Offers to pour the same into thy soul. Then call for mercy and avoid despair. FAusTUS_ O friend, I feel thy words To comfort my distresséd soul. Leave me a while to ponder on my sins. OLD MAN

Faustus, I leave thee, but with grief of heart,

Fearing the enemy of thy hapless soul. FAUSTUS

35

Accurséd Faustus, wretch, what hast thou done?

I do repent, and yet I do despair. Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast. What shall I do to shun the snares of death? MEPHOSTOPHILIS

‘Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul

For disobedience to my sovereign lord. Revolt,! or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh.

1. Turn back (to your allegiance to Lucifer).

[Exit.]

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE 1564-1616

illiam Shakespeare was born in the small market town of Stratford-on-Avon in April (probably April 23) 1564. His father, a successful glovemaker, landowner, moneylender, and dealer in agricultural commodities, was elected to several

important posts in local government but later suffered financial and social reverses, possibly as a result of adherence to the Catholic faith. Shakespeare almost certainly attended the free Stratford grammar school, where he would have acquired a reasonably impressive education, including a respectable knowledge of Latin, but he did not proceed to Oxford or Cambridge. There are legends about Shakespeare's youth but no documented facts. Some scholars are tempted to associate him with “William Shakeshafte,” a young actor attached to a recusant Catholic circle in Lancashire around 1581; one of Shakespeare's former Stratford schoolmasters belonged to this circle. But the first unambiguous record we have of his life after his christening is that of his marriage, in 1582, at age eighteen, to Anne Hathaway, eight years his senior. A daughter, Susanna, was born six months later, in 1583, and twins, Hamnet

and Judith, in 1585. We possess no information about his activities for the next seven years, but by 1592 he was in London as an actor and apparently already well known as a playwright, for a rival dramatist, Robert Greene, refers to him resentfully in A Groatsworth of Wit as “an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers.” At this time, there were several companies of professional actors in London and in the provinces. What links Shakespeare had with one or more of them before 1592 is conjectural, but we do know of his long and fruitful connection, established by 1594, with the most successful troupe, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, who later, when James I came to the throne, became the King’s Men. Shakespeare not only acted with this company but eventually became a leading shareholder and the principal playwright. Then as now, making a living in the professional theater was not easy: competition among the repertory companies was stiff, civic officials and religious moralists regarded playacting as a sinful, time-wasting nuisance and tried to ban it altogether, government officials exercised censorship over the contents of the plays, and periodic outbreaks of bubonic plague led to temporary closing of the London theaters. But Shakespeare’s company, which included some of the most famous actors of the day, nonetheless thrived and in 1599 began to perform in the Globe, a fine, open-air theater that the company built for itself on the south bank of the Thames. The company also performed frequently at court and, after 1608, at Blackfriars, an indoor London the-

ater. Already by 1597 Shakespeare had so prospered that he was able to purchase New Place, a handsome house in Stratford; he could now call himself a gentleman, as his

father had (probably with the financial assistance of his successful playwright son) been granted a coat of arms the previous year. Shakespeare’s wife and daughters (his son, Hamnet, having died in 1596) resided in Stratford, while the playwright, living in rented rooms in London, pursued his career. Shortly after writing The Tempest (ca. 1611), he retired from direct involvement in the theater and returned to Stratford. In

March 1616, he signed his will; he died a month later, leaving the bulk of his estate to his daughter Susanna. To his wife of thirty-four years, he left “my second best bed.” Shakespeare began his career as a playwright, probably in the early 1590s, by writing comedies and history plays. The earliest of these histories (in which he may have had one or more collaborators), generally based on accounts of English kings written by Raphael Holinshed and other sixteenth-century chroniclers, seem theat718

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

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719

rically vital but crude, as does an early attempt at tragedy, Titus Andronicus. But Shakespeare quickly moved on to create by the later 1590s a sequence of profoundly searching and ambitious history plays—Richard II, the first and second parts of Henry IV, and Henry V—which together explore the death throes of feudal England and the birth of the modern nation-state ruled by a charismatic monarch. In the same years he wrote a succession of romantic comedies (The Merchant of Venice, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It, Twelfth Night) whose poetic richness and emotional complexity remain unmatched. Twelfth Night was probably written in the same year as Hamlet (ca. 1601), which initiated an outpouring of great tragic dramas: Othello, King Lear, Macbeth, Antony and Cleopatra, and Coriolanus. These plays, written from 1601 to 1607, seem to mark a major shift in sensibility, an existential and metaphysical darkening that many readers think must have originated in personal anguish. Whatever the truth of this speculation—and we have no direct, personal testimony either to support or to undermine it—there appears to have occurred in the same period a shift as well in Shakespeare’s comic sensibility. The comedies written between 1601 and 1604, Troilus and Cressida, All's Well That Ends Well, and Measure for Measure, are suffi-

ciently different from the earlier comedies—more biting in tone, more uneasy with comic conventions, more ruthlessly questioning of the values of the characters and the resolutions of the plots—to have led some modern scholars to classify them as “problem plays” or “dark comedies.” Another group of plays, among the last that Shakespeare wrote, seem similarly to define a distinct category. Pericles, Cymbeline, The Winter's Tale, and The Tempest, written between

1608 and 1611, when

Shakespeare had developed a remarkably fluid, dreamlike sense of plot and a poetic style that could veer, apparently effortlessly, from the tortured to the ineffably sweet, are now commonly known as the “romances.” These plays share an interest in the moral and emotional life less of the adolescents who dominate the earlier comedies than of their parents. The romances are deeply concerned with patterns of loss and recovery, suffering and redemption, despair and renewal. They have seemed to many critics to constitute a self-conscious conclusion to a career that opened with histories and comedies and passed through the dark and tormented tragedies. In a few of the late plays, he worked, as he apparently had at the beginning of his professional life, with collaborators. Perhaps he thought of himself as handing over his vocation to a new generation. Shakespeare evinced no interest in preserving for posterity the sum of his writings, let alone in clarifying the chronology of his works or in specifying which plays he wrote alone and which with collaborators. He wrote plays for performance by his company, and his scripts existed in his own handwritten manuscripts or in scribal copies, in playhouse promptbooks, and probably in pirated texts based on shorthand reports of a performance or on reconstructions from memory by an actor or a spectator. None of these manuscript versions has survived. Eighteen of his plays were published during his lifetime in the small-format, inexpensive books called quartos; to these were added eighteen other plays, never before printed, in the large, expensive folio volume of Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies (1623), published seven years after his death. This First Folio, edited by two of his friends and fellow actors, John Heminges and Henry Condell, is prefaced by a poem of Ben Jonson’s, in which Shakespeare is hailed, presciently, as “not of an age, but for all time.” That Shakespeare is “for all time” does not mean that he did not also belong to his own age. It is possible to see where Shakespeare adapted the techniques of his contemporaries and where, crucially, he differed from them. Shakespeare rarely invented the plots of his dramas, preferring to work, often quite closely, with stories he found ready-made in histories, novellas, narrative poems, or other plays. The religious mystery plays and the allegorical morality plays still popular during his childhood taught him that dramas worth seeing must get at something central to the

ae

open

eed

pLlanbies

ARE HOLY

41

nena \‘

-

;

f

os

Sketch of the Swan Theater. This drawing by Arend van Buchell (ca. 1596), based on the

observations of Johannes De Witt, shows features of a public playhouse in Shakespeare's time. Resembling the courtyard of an Elizabethan inn, the Swan had three galleries for the audience, and probably additional room for audience members in the gallery at the back of the stage, above the tiring-house (dressing room). The stage itself had two doors for players’ entrances and exits, and the roof over the stage was supported by pillars. The flag flying from the roof signals that a play is to be performed that day, and a trumpeter announces the beginning of the performance (though the sketch shows a performance already under way). De Witt labeled parts of the sketch using Latin names derived from the Roman theater. 720

WILLIAM

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721

human condition, that they should embody as well as narrate the crucial actions, and that they could reach not only a coterie of the educated elite but also the great mass of ordinary people. From these and other theatrical models, Shakespeare learned how to construct plays around the struggle for the soul ofaprotagonist, how to create theatrically compelling and subversive figures of wickedness, and how to focus attention on his characters’ psychological, moral, and spiritual lives as well as on their outward behavior. The authors of the morality plays thought they could enhance the broad impact they sought to achieve by stripping their characters of all incidental distinguishing traits and getting to their essences. They believed that their audiences would thereby not be distracted by the irrelevant details of individual identities. Shakespeare grasped that the spectacle of human destiny was in fact vastly more compelling when it was attached not to generalized abstractions but to particular people, people whom he realized with an unprecedented intensity of individuation: not Youth but Viola, not Everyman but Lear. No other writer of his time was able to create and enter into the interior worlds of so many characters, conveying again and again a sense of unique and irreducible selfhood. In the plays of Shakespeare's brilliant contemporary Marlowe, the protagonist overwhelms virtually all of the other characters; in Shakespeare, by contrast, even relatively minor characters—Maria in Twelfth Night, for example, or Emilia in Othello—make astonishingly powerful claims on the audience’s attention. The Romantic critic William Hazlitt observed that Shakespeare had the power to multiply himself marvelously. His plays convey the sense of an inexhaustible imaginative generosity. Shakespeare was singularly alert to the fantastic vitality of the English language. His immense vocabulary bears witness to an uncanny ability to absorb terms from a wide range of pursuits and to transform them into intimate registers of thought and feeling. He had a seemingly boundless capacity to generate metaphors, and he was virtually addicted to wordplay. Double meanings, verbal echoes, and submerged associations ripple through every passage, deepening the reader’s enjoyment and understanding, though sometimes at the expense of a single clear sense. The eighteenth-century critic Samuel Johnson complained with some justice that the quibble, the pun, was “the fatal Cleopatra for which Shakespeare lost the world and was content to lose it.” For the power that continually discharges itself throughout his plays and poems, at once constituting and unsettling everything it touches, is the polymorphous power of language. Anachronism is rarely a concern for Shakespeare. His ancient Romans throw their caps into the air and use Christian oaths: to this extent he pulled everything he touched into his contemporary existence. But at the same time he was not a social realist; other writers in this period are better at conveying the precise details of the daily lives of shoemakers, alchemists, and judges. The settings of his plays are rarely realistic representations of particular historical times and places; instead, like “Illyria” in Twelfth Night, they function as imaginative displacements into alternative worlds that remain strangely familiar. Though on occasion he depicts ghosts, demons, and other supernatural figures, the universe Shakespeare conjures up seems resolutely human-centered and secular: the torments and joys that most deeply matter are found in this world, not in the next. Attempts to claim him for one or another religious system have proven unconvincing, as have attempts to assign him a specific political label. Activists and ideologues of all political stripes have viewed him as an ally: he has been admiringly quoted by kings and by revolutionaries, by fascists, liberal democrats,

socialists, republicans, and

communists. At once an agent of civility and an agent of subversion, Shakespeare seems to have been able to view society simultaneously as an insider and as an outsider. His plays can be interpreted and performed—with deep conviction and compelling power—in utterly contradictory ways. The centuries-long accumulation of

C22

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

these interpretations and performances, far from exhausting Shakespeare’s aesthetic appeal, seems only to have enhanced its perennial freshness.”

Sonnets In Elizabethan England aristocratic patronage, with the money, protection, and prestige it alone could provide, was probably a professional writer’s most important asset. This patronage, or at least Shakespeare’s quest for it, is most visible in his dedication, in 1593 and 1594, of his narrative poems, Venus and Adonis and

The Rape of Lucrece, to the wealthy young nobleman Henry Wriothesley, earl of Southampton. What return the poet got for his exquisite offerings is unknown. We do know that among wits and gallants the narrative poems won Shakespeare a fine reputation as an immensely stylish and accomplished poet. This reputation was enhanced as well by manuscript circulation of his sonnets, which were mentioned admiringly in print more than ten years before they were published, in 1609 (apparently without his personal supervision and perhaps without his consent). Shakespeare’s sonnets are quite unlike the other sonnet sequences of his day, notably in his almost unprecedented choice of a beautiful young man (rather than a lady) as the principal object of praise, love, and idealizing devotion and in his portrait of a dark, sensuous, and sexually promiscuous mistress (rather than the usual chaste and

aloof blond beauty). Nor are the moods confined to what the Renaissance thought were those of the despairing Petrarchan lover: they include delight, pride, melancholy, shame, disgust, and fear. Shakespeare’s sequence suggests a story, although the details are vague, and there is even doubt whether the sonnets as published are in an order established by the poet himself. Certain motifs are evident: an introductory series (1 to 17) celebrates the beauty of a young man and urges him to marry and beget children who will bear his image. The subsequent long sequence (18 to 126), passionately focused on the beloved young man, develops as a dominant motif the transience and destructive power of time, countered only by the force of love and the permanence of poetry. The remaining sonnets focus chiefly on the so-called Dark Lady as an alluring but degrading object of desire. Some sonnets (like 144) intimate a love triangle involving the speaker, the male friend, and the woman; others take note of a rival poet (sometimes identified as George Chapman or Christopher Marlowe). The biographical background of the sonnets has inspired a mountain of speculation, but very little of it has any factual support. Though there are many variations, Shakespeare’s most frequent rhyme scheme in the sonnets is abab cdcd efef gg.This so-called Shakespearean pattern often (though not always) calls attention to three distinct quatrains (each of which may develop a separate metaphor), followed by a closing couplet that may either confirm or pull sharply against what has gone before. Startling shifts in direction may occur in lines other than the closing ones; consider, for example, the twists and turns in the opening lines of sonnet 138: “When my love swears that she is made of truth, /I do believe her, though I know she lies.” Shakespeare’s sonnets as a whole are strikingly intense, conveying a sense of high psychological and moral stakes. They are also remarkably dense, written with a daunting energy, concentration, and compression. Often the main idea

of the poem may be grasped quickly, but the precise movement of thought and feeling, the links among the shifting images, the syntax, tone, and rhetorical structure prove immensely challenging. These are poems that famously reward rereading.! “ For additional writings by Shakespeare— including the full text of The First Part of King Henry IV, a collection of songs from the plays, five additional sonnets (nos. 56, 104, 118, 121, 124), and the philosophical poem “The Phoenix and the Turtle”—see the NAEL Archive. See the color insert in this volume for the “Chandos” portrait

of Shakespeare and a portrait of Henry Wriothesley, third earl of Southampton and the dedicatee of Shakespeare's two narrative poems and, possibly, of his sonnets. ' For a broad grouping of other 16th-century poems, especially love lyrics, see “An Elizabethan Miscellany” on p. 502.

Ve23

Sonnets

To the These Mr. W. and

Only Begetter of Ensuing Sonnets H. All Happiness That Eternity Promised

Our Ever-Living Poet Wisheth The Well-Wishing Adventurer in Setting Forth

deal

From fairest creatures we desire increase,

wn

10

That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory; But thou, contracted’ to thine own bright eyes, Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial’ fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament And only* herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content? And, tender churl,° mak’st waste in niggarding.° Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.’

Look in thy glass° and tell the face thou viewest Now is the time that face should form another, Whose fresh repair® if now thou not renewest,

Thou dost beguile°® the world, unbless some mother. s

For where is she so fair whose uneared® womb

hoarding

mirror state

cheat unplowed

Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond? will be the tomb 1. This odd dedication bears the initials of the publisher, Thomas Thorpe. The W. H. addressed here may or may not be the male friend addressed in sonnets | to 126, Leading candidates for that role are Henry Wriothesley, earl of Southampton,

the dedicatee of Venus and Adonis (1593) and The Rape ofLucrece (1594), and William Herbert, earl

of Pembroke, a dedicatee of the First Folio. But there is no hard evidence to support these or other suggested identifications of the male friend or of the so-called Dark Lady; these sonnet personages may or may not have had real-life counterparts.

Since all the sonnets save two were first pub-

foolish

lished in 1609, we do not repeat the date after each one. Numbers 138 and 144 were first published in 1599, in a verse miscellany called The Passionate Pilgrim. 2. Betrothed; also, withdrawn into. 3. Of your own substance. 4. Principal, with overtones of single, solitary. 5. What you contain (potential for fatherhood), also what would content you (marriage and fatherhood).

6. Gentle boor (an oxymoron). 7. “This... thee”: be a glutton by causing what is owed to the world (your posterity) to be consumed by the grave and within yourself.

724

10

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Of his self-love, to stop posterity? Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.

But if thou live rememb’red not to be,® Die single, and thine image dies with thee. i,

When I do count the clock that tells the time And see the brave® day sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime

splendid

And sable curls all silvered o’er with white, vi

10

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst® from heat did canopy the herd And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard: Then of thy beauty do I question make® That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing ’gainst Time’s seythe can make defense Save breed,° to brave° him when he takes thee hence.

formerly

speculate

offspring / defy

1S

When I consider every thing that grows Holds° in perfection but a little moment; That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows’

remains

Whereon the stars in secret influence comment:! vi

10

When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and checked? even by the selfsame sky, Vaunt? in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory;* Then the conceit® of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful Time debateth> with Decay To change your day of youth to sullied® night, And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I ingraft® you new

conception

soiled, blackened

18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; yw

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, . But if you live to be forgotten.

4. Wear their showy splendor out and are forgot-

. (1) Appearances,

ten.

(2) performances.

. Le., the stars secretly affect human actions. . Encouraged and reproached or stopped. 3. Exult, display themselves.

5. (1) Fights, (2) joins forces. 6. Renew by grafting; implant beauty again (by my verse).

SONNETS

10

And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed.’ But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;°

PMS)

ownest

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:° So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this,* and this gives life to thee.

are grafted

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood:

Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,

’

And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;? vi

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet’st, And do whate’er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,

10

wi

To the wide world and all her fading sweets, But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique! pen; Him in thy course untainted? do allow, For beauty’s pattern to succeeding men. Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young.

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted? Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;* A woman’s gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,° Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;

roving

A man in hue all hues? in his controlling,

Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created,

io

Till Nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,° And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she pricked’ thee out for women’s pleasure, Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use® their treasure.

7. Stripped of gay apparel. 8. I.e., the poem. The boast of immortality for one’s verse was a convention going back to the Greek and Roman classics. 9. In full vigor of life (a hunting term). The phoenix was a mythical bird that lived five hundred years, then died in flames to rise again from its ashes. 1. (1) Old, (2) fantastic (antic). 2. (1) Undefiled, (2) untouched

term from jousting).

by a weapon

(a

3. Le., not made up with cosmetics.

4. (1) Strong feeling, (2) poem. Daaidues probably means appearance or form. In ie first edition, “hues” is spelled “Hews,” which some have taken as indicating a pun on a proper name. It has also been suggested that “man in” is a copyist’s or compositor’s misreading of “maiden.” 6. (1) Crazy, (2) infatuated. 7. Marked, with obvious sexual pun. 8. (1) Sexual enjoyment, (2) interest (as in usury).

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SHAKESPEARE

23 As an unperfect actor on the stage

s

i0

Who with his fear is put besides? his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart, Sol, for fear of trust,° forget to say The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,’ And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay, O’er-charged® with burden of mine own love’s might. O let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers® of my speaking breast,

forgets lack of confidence

overweighed mute presenters

Who plead for love, and look for recompense

More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.! O learn to read what silent love hath writ;

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.°

intelligence

29. When, in disgrace® with Fortune and men’s eyes,

va

I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless® cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

disfavor

futile

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,’

10

Desiring this man’s art® and that man’s scope,° With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state? (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

skill /ability

30

When to the sessions* of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail? my dear time’s waste: s

Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow)

i0

For precious friends hid in death’s dateless° night, And weep afresh love’s long since canceled woe, And moan th’ expense? of many a vanished sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,° And heavily from woe to woe tell® o’er The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,

bewail anew

endless

loss former count

Which I new pay as if not paid before. 9. The first edition has “right,” suggesting love's due as well as love’s ritual (“rite”).

1. More than that (rival) speaker who has more often said more. 2. Le., | wish I had one man’s looks, another

man’s friends. 3. Condition, state of mind; but in line 14 there

is a pun on slate meaning chair of state, throne. 4. Sittings of court. “Summon up” (next line) continues the metaphor.

SONNETS

|

HPPTE

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.

33

vi

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,° Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon? permit the basest® clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face,

sunlight (but) soon / darkest cloudy mask

And from the forlorn world his visage hide,

10

Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace. Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all triumphant splendor on my brow; But out, alack,°? he was but one hour mine;

alas

The region® cloud hath masked him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth: Suns of the world may stain®° when heaven's sun staineth.

high darken

35 No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud.

Clouds and eclipses stain® both moon and sun, And loathsome canker® lives in sweetest bud. s

10

dim rose worm

All men make faults, and even I in this,

Authorizing thy trespass with compare,° Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,° Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; For to thy sensual fault | bring in sense°-— ‘Thy adverse party is thy advocate— And ’gainst myself a lawful plea commence. Such civil war is in my love and hate That I an accessory needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.

comparisons palliating your offense

i.e., reason

D>

Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.°

5

10

When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils® root out the work of masonry,

Nor Mars his°® sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity® Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity

5. Le., than in a stone tomb or effigy that slovenly time wears away and covers with dust.

battles

neither Mars's

6. The enmity of oblivion, of being forgotten.

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

That wear this world out to the ending doom.° So, till the judgment that yourself arise,’ You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.

Judgment Day

60

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.* vi

10

Nativity, once in the main® of light,

broad expanse

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned, Crooked? eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish? set on youth, And delves the parallels! in beauty’s brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. And yet to times in hope® my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

pernicious

future times

62

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye, And all my soul, and all my every part; And for this sin there is no remedy, It is so grounded inward in my heart. wn

Methinks no face so gracious? is as mine,

No shape so true,° no truth of such account, And for myself mine own worth do define As° [all other? in all worths surmount.

pleasing

perfect as if / others

But when my glass° shows me myself indeed, 10

Beated and chapped with tanned antiquity, Mine own self-love quite contrary° I read; Self so self-loving were iniquity. ‘Tis thee, my self,° that for® myselfI praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

mirror

differently

you, my other self /as

65 Since’ brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,

vw

But sad mortality o’ersways their power, How with this rage® shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O how shall summer’s honey breath hold out Against the wrackful® siege of batt’ring days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?

destructive power

destructive

O fearful meditation! Where, alack, 7. 8. to 9.

Until you rise from the dead on Judgment Day. Toiling and following each other, all struggle move forward. Destroy the embellishment. To “flourish” is

also to blossom. 1. Digs the parallel furrows (wrinkles). 2. Le., since there is neither.

SONNETS

Shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest? he hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil° of beauty can forbid? O none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

{O29

ravaging

a

No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell4 Give warning to the world that I am fled wi

From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell. Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay;

repeat

Lest the wise world should look into your moan,

And mock you with me after | am gone. a3

That time of year thou may’st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs,’ where late° the sweet birds sang. vw

lately

In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west;

Which by and by black night doth take away, Death’s second self that seals up all in rest. In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the deathbed whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.°® This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well, which thou must leave ere long. 74 But be contented; when that fell’ arrest

Without all bail shall carry me away, My life hath in this line some interest,*

Which for memorial still° with thee shall stay. Wa

always

When thou reviewest this, thou dost review

3. Le., from being coffered up by Time. 4. The bell was tolled to announce

the death of

6 Choked by the ashes of that which once nourished its flame.

a member of the parish—one stroke for each year of his or her life. 5. The part of achurch where divine service was

7. Cruel. Hamlet says, “this fell sergeant / Death

sung.

poetry.

is strict in his arrest” (5.2.278—79).

8. Share, participation. “In this line”: i.e., in this

Os

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

The very part was° consecrate to thee.

which was

The earth can have but earth, which is his due;

My spirit is thine, the better part of me. So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, The prey of worms, my body being dead, The coward conquest of a wretch’s knife,’ Too base of° thee to be remembered. The worth of that is that which it contains,! And that is this, and this with thee remains.

80

O, how I faint? when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit? doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might, To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! But since your worth, wide as the ocean is, The humble as° the proudest sail doth bear,

10

My saucy bark,° inferior far to his, On your broad main?® doth willfully° appear. Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat Whilst he upon your soundless° deep doth ride;

get discouraged

as well as impudent boat

waters / boldly bottomless

Or, being wrecked, I am a worthless boat,

He of tall building* and of goodly pride.° Then if he thrive and I be cast away, The worst was this: my love was my decay.

magnificence

85

vi

10

My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still° tactfully says nothing While comments of® your praise, richly compiled, commentaries in Reserve thy character® with golden quill hoard wp your features And precious phrase by all the muses filed.° polished I think good thoughts whilst other° write good words, others And like unlettered clerk still cry “Amen” To every hymn’ that able spirit affords® offers In polished form of well-refinéd pen. Hearing you praised I say “’Tis so, ’tis true,” And to the most® of praise add something more; highest But that is in my thought,° whose love to you, i.e., is unspoken Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.° before all others Then others for the breath of words respect,° regard Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.° in reality 87

Farewell: thou art too dear’ for my possessing, And like enough thou know’st thy estimate.° 9. Death’s weapon (like Time's scythe). l.e., the only value of the body is that it contains the spirit. 2 . Arival poet. See the headnote, p. 722. 3% Tall, strong build.

value

4. “Like... hymn”: like an illiterate parish clerk reflexively approve (“cry ‘Amen’” after) every poem (“hymn”) of praise. 5. (1) Expensive, (2) beloved.

SONNETS

|

731

The charter® of thy worth gives thee releasing;® —deed; contract forproperty My bonds in thee are all determinate.° expired For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,° absent And so my patent? back again is swerving.’ title Thy self thou gav’st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;° So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,”

Comes home again, on better judgment making.® Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter: In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

i.é., overestimating based on error

93

So shall I live supposing thou art true, Like a deceivéd husband; so love's face® May still seem love to me, though altered new— Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place. For there can live no hatred in thine eye; Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many’s looks the false heart’s history Is writ in moods’ and frowns and wrinkles strange:° But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart’s workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow® If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!!

appearance

unaccustomed

become

94

They that have power to hurt and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show,” Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; wit

They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces And husband nature’s riches from expense;?

They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence. The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,

Though to itself it only live and die,* But if that flower with base infection meet,

The basest weed outbraves? his dignity:

Surpasses

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

6. Releases you (from love's bonds). 7. L.e., reverting to you.

8. L.e., when you realize your error.

9. Moody expressions.

1. Does not correspond to your appearance.

2. Seem to do, or seem capable of doing.

3. Le., they do not squander nature's gifts. 4. Even if it lives and dies in apparent isolation (unpollinated).

032

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

97.

va

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December’s bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed? was summer’s time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,

10

Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,° Like widowed wombs after their lords’ decease. Yet this abundant issue® seemed to me But hope of orphans and unfathered fruit; For summer and his pleasures wait° on thee,

outgrowth

attend

And, thou away, the very birds are mute;

Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer® That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.

such a dismal mood

98

wi

10

From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied’ April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, That heavy Saturn? laughed and leapt with him. Yet nor® the lays° of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odor and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at° the lily’s white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures® of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.

god of melancholy neither / songs

admire

merely emblems

Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,

As with your shadow I with these did play. 105

Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my belovéd as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still° such, and ever so. vi

Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence. Therefore my verse, to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out difference.° “Fair, kind, and true” is all my argument,°

“Fair, kind, and true” varying to other words, And in this change is my invention spent,® Three themes in one, which wonderous scope affords. 5. I.e., when I was absent. 6. Spring, which has engendered the lavish crop (“wanton bear.

burthen”)

that autumn

is now

left to

continually

variety theme

7. Magnificent in many colors. 8. And in varying the words alone my inventiveness is expended.

SONNETS

Fair, kind, and true have often lived alone,°

Which three till now never kept seat® in one.

|

T3)3

separately dwelt permanently

106

When in the chronicle of wasted® time I see descriptions of the fairest wights,° And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon? of sweet beauty’s best,

past persons

Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,

I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they looked but with divining eyes,! They had not skill enough your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. 107

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul. Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,” Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.’ The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, And the sad augurs mock their own presage;4 Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace? proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes,°

Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o’er dull and speechless tribes: And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants’ crests and tombs of brass are spent.°

submits

wasted away

110

Alas, ’tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley° to the view, Gored® mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offenses of affections® new.

9. Catalog of excellencies. 1. Because (“for”) they were able only (“but”) to

foresee prophetically. 2. This sonnet refers to contemporary events and the prophecies, common in Elizabethan almanacs, of disaster. 3. I.e., can yet put an end to my love, which I thought doomed to early forfeiture. 4. The “mortal moon” is probably Queen Elizabeth; her “eclipse” could be either her death (March 1603) or, perhaps, her “climacteric” year, her sixty-third (thought meaningful because the

fool, jester passions

product of two “significant” numbers, 7 and 9), which ended in September 1596, The sober astrologers (“sad augurs”) now ridicule their own predictions (“presage”) of catastrophe, because they turned out to be false. 5. Perhaps referring to the peace treaty signed with Spain by Elizabeth’s successor, James I, or, if the sonnet refers to the time of Elizabeth’s climacteric, to an earlier treaty between England and France. 6. Wounded, pierced.

734

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Most true it is that I have looked on truth® Askance and strangely;’ but, by all above, These blenches® gave my heart another youth, And worse essays® proved thee my best of love.

fidelity turnings aside

Now all is done, have what shall have no end: 10

Mine appetite I never more will grind°

whet

On newer proof,° to try° an older friend,

experiences / test

A god in love, to whom I am confined. Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,’

Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments;! love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no, it is an ever-fixéd mark,”

10

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand ring bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height? be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool,° though rosy lips and cheeks Within his* bending sickle’s compass come;

plaything

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.° If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

brink of Judgment Day

126°

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time’s fickle glass,° his sickle, hour;°

va

Who hast by waning grown and therein show’st® Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow’st; If Nature (sovereign mistress over wrack°) As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May Time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her, O thou minion® of her pleasure, She may detain, but not still° keep, her treasure! Her audit® (though delayed) answered must be, And her quietus? is to render? thee.

7. Obliquely

or

asquint,

and

coldly

(like

a

stranger). 8. Trials of worse relationships. 9. Le., the next best thing to the Christian heaven. 1. From the Anglican marriage service: “If either of you do know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together . . .” 2. Seamark, such as a lighthouse or a beacon. 3. The star’s value is incalculable, although its

hourglass i.e., in contrast

destruction

darling always accounting settlement / surrender

altitude may be known and used for navigation. 4. Time’s (as also in line 11).

5. This poem—not a sonnet but six couplets—is an envoy (a closing summary or commentary) marking the end of the sequence addressed to a beloved young man

(see the headnote)

mally signaling a change

and for-

in tone and subject

matter in the remaining sonnets. 6. Mirror, fickle because as the subject ages, the

mirror reflects a changed image.

SONNETS

|

(lie)

2G

In the old age black was not counted fair,’

10

Or, if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir,® And beauty slandered with a bastard shame:° For since each hand hath put on nature’s power, Fairing the foul with art’s false borrowed face,° Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,’ But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress’ brows are raven black, Her eyes so suited,° and they mourners seem At® such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,! Sland’ring creation with a false esteem: Yet so they mourn, becoming of° their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so.

declared illegitimate i.e., with cosmetics

i.e., also black

for gracing

128

wi

How oft when thou, my music, music play’st Upon that blesséd wood? whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st® The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,?* Do I envy those jacks* that nimble leap

govern

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,

Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand. To be so tickled they would change their state? And situation® with those dancing chips, O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blessed than living lips. Since saucy jacks’ so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. de)

Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action;® and till action, lust Is perjured, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme,

rude,° cruel, not to trust;

Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight;° Past reason hunted, and no sooner had, Past reason hated as a swallowed bait

brutal

immediately

On purpose laid to make the taker mad: 7. Beautiful, equated with blond hair and coloring. “Old”: former. “Black”: dark hair and coloring, equated with ugliness. 8. Heir in line of succession. 9. Shrine. The next line suggests that natural (unpainted) beauty is now discredited.

1. Le., nevertheless possess the appearance of beauty. 2. Keys of the spinet or virginal. 3. The harmony from the strings that overcomes my ear with delight.

4. The keys (actually, “jacks” are the plectra that pluck the strings when activated by the keys). 5. Their place in the order of things. 6. Physical location. 7. With a quibble on the sense “impertinent fellows.” 8. The word order here is inverted and slightly obscures the meaning. Lust, when put into action, expends “spirit” (life, vitality; also semen) in a “waste” (desert; also with a pun on waist) of shame.

736

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof,’ and proved, a very° woe;

true

Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. 130

My mistress’ eyes Coral is far more If snow be white, If hairs be wires, Wn

10

are nothing like the sun;' red than her lips’ red; why then her breasts are dun; black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked,? red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

dappled

And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.? I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go;° walk My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare® admirable; extraordinary As any she belied® with false compare. misrepresented 135

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,’ And Will to boot, and Will in overplus;

wi

More than enough am I that vex thee still,° To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, Not once vouchsafe® to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right gracious, And in? my will no fair acceptance shine?

always

consent

in the case of

The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,

And in abundance addeth to his store,°

plenty

So thou being rich in Will add to thy Will One will of mine to make thy large Will more. Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;*

Think all but one, and me in that one Will. 138 When my love swears that she is made of truth,> I do believe her, though I know she lies,°

9. A bliss during the experience. 1. An anti-Petrarchan sonnet. All of the details commonly attributed by other Elizabethan sonneteers to their ladies (e.g., in Spenser's Amoretti 64; see p. 488) are here denied to the poet’s mistress.

female sexual organs, (4) one or more lovers— evidently including Shakespeare—named Will. This is one of several sonnets punning on the word. 4. I.e., do not kill with unkindness any of your

2. Not with “emanates,”

6. With the obvious sexual pun (as also in lines

our

pejorative

sense,

but

simply

3. (1) Wishes, (2) carnal desire, (3) the male and

wooers.

5. (1) Is utterly honest, (2) is faithful. 13-14).

SONNETS

10

That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearnéd in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best,’ Simply° I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed. But wherefore says she not she is unjust?° And wherefore say not I that I am old? Oh, love’s best habit® is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told.° Therefore I lie with her and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flattered be.

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737

like a simpleton

unfaithful clothing, guise counted

144 Two loves I have of comfort and despair,® Which like two spirits do suggest me still:°

tempt me constantly

The better angel is a man right fair,

The worser spirit a woman colored ill.° To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride.’ And whether that my angel be turned fiend Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from? me, both to each? friend, I guess one angel in another’s hell.

dark

away from / each other

Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,

Till my bad angel fire my good one out.! 146

vi

Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth, Lord of? these rebel powers that thee array,’ Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

Eat up thy charge?? Is this thy body’s end?° Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store;” Buy terms?® divine in selling hours of dross;°

destiny; purpose

long periods / rubbish

Within be fed, without be rich no more.

7. Shakespeare was thirty-five or younger when he wrote this sonnet (it first appeared in The Passionate Pilgrim, 1599). 8. I have two beloveds, one bringing me comfort and the other despair. 9. (1) Vanity, (2) sexuality.

1. Le., until she infects him with venereal disease. 2. “Lord of” is an emendation. The 1609 edition

repeats the last three words of line 1. Other suggestions are “Thrall

to,” “Starved

by,” “Pressed

by,” and leaving the repetition but dropping “that thee” in line 2.

3. The rebellious body that clothes you. 4. (1) Your expense, (2) the thing you were responsible for (i.e., the body). 5. Let “that” (i.e., the body) deteriorate to increase (“aggravate”) the soul’s riches (“thy store”).

738

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,

And death once dead, there’s no more dying then. 147

My love is as a fever, longing still° For that which longer nurseth® the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,° Th’ uncertain sickly appetite’ to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except.® Past cure I am, now

reason

continually maintain the illness

is past care,”

And frantic mad with evermore unrest;

My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are, At random from the truth, vainly expressed:! For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. 152

10

In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn,? But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing: In act thy bed-vow® broke, and new faith torn In vowing new hate after new love bearing.’ But why of two oaths’ breach do I accuse thee When I break twenty? I am perjured most, For all my vows are oaths but to misuse® thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost. For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, And to enlighten thee gave eyes to blindness,* Or made them swear against the thing they see. For I have sworn thee fair—more perjured eye® To swear against the truth so foul a lie.

to husband (or lover)

deceive; misrepresent

(punning on “I’) 1609

6. (1) Nourishes, (2) takes care of. 7 (I ) Desire for food, (2) lust. So: e., I learn by experience that desire, which

rejected reason’s medicine, is death. Devils e., medical care (of me). The line is a version of the proverb “past cure, past care.” 1. Wide of the mark and senselessly uttered.

2. Le., am breaking loving vows to another. 3. The object of the “new faith” followed by “new hate” could be either the speaker’s young friend or the speaker himself. 4. And to make you fair (or give you insight), | looked blindly on your failings (or pretended to see what I couldn't).

139

Twelfth Night Women did not perform on the English public stage during Shakespeare's lifetime: all the great women’s roles in Elizabethan and Jacobean plays, from Juliet and Lady Macbeth to the Duchess of Malfi, were written to be performed by trained adolescent boys. These boy actors were evidently extraordinarily skillful, and the audiences were sufficiently immersed in the conventions both of theater and of social life in general to accept gesture, makeup, and above all dress as a convincing representation of femininity. Twelfth Night, or What You Will, written for Shakespeare’s all-male company, plays brilliantly with these conventions. The comedy depends on an actor's ability to transform himself, through costume, voice, and gesture, into a young noblewoman, Viola, who transforms herself, through costume, voice, and gesture, into a young serving man, Cesario. The play’s delicious complica-

tions follow from the emotional tangles these transformations engender, unsettling fixed categories of sexual identity and social class and allowing characters to explore emotional territory that a culture officially hostile to same-sex desire and cross-class marriage would ordinarily have ruled out of bounds. In Twelfth Night conventional expectations repeatedly give way to a different mode of perceiving the world. Shakespeare wrote Twelfth Night around 1601. He had already written such comedies as A Midsummer Night's Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, and As You Like It, with their playful, subtly ironic investigations of the ways in which heterosexual couples are produced out of the crosscurrents of male and female friendships; as interesting, perhaps, he had probably just recently completed Hamlet, with its unprecedented exploration of mourning, betrayal, antic humor, and tragic isolation. Twelfth Night would prove to be, in the view of many critics, both the most nearly perfect and in some sense the last of the great festive comedies. Shakespeare returned to comedy later in his career but always with more insistent overtones of bitterness, loss, and grief. There are dark notes in Twelfth Night as well—the countess Olivia is in mourning for her brother, Viola thinks that her brother too is dead, Antonio believes that he has been betrayed by the man he loves, Duke Orsino threatens to kill Cesario—but these notes are swept up in a giddy, carnivalesque dance of illusion, disguise, folly, and clowning. The complex tonal shifts of Shakespeare’s comedy are conveyed in part by the pervasive music and in part by the constant oscillation between blank verse and prose. Generally, the characters in the main, romantic plot speak in the more elevated, aristocratic, and dignified register of verse, while the comic subplot proceeds in prose. Yet these formal distinctions between serious and comic, high and low, are frequently undermined, as when the wronged steward Malvolio in his final speech addresses Olivia in dignified verse, or when the mercurial Viola shifts with the greatest ease between verse and prose.

The play’s subtitle, What You Will, underscores the celebratory spirit associated with Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany (January 6), that in Elizabethan England marked the culminating night of the traditional Christmas revels. In the time-honored festivities associated with the midwinter season, a rigidly hierarchical social order that ordinarily demanded deference, sobriety, and strict obedience to authority temporarily gave way to raucous rituals of inversion: young boys were crowned for a day as bishops and carried through the streets in mock religious processions; abstemiousness was toppled by bouts of heavy drinking and feasting; and the spirit of parody, folly, and misrule reigned briefly in places normally reserved for stern-faced moralists and sober judges. The fact that these festivities were associated with Christian holidays—the Epiphany marked the visit of the Three Kings to Bethlehem to worship the Christ child—did not altogether obscure the continuities with pagan winter rituals such as the Roman Saturnalia, with its comparably explosive release from everyday discipline into a disorderly realm of belly laughter and belly cheer. Puritans emphasized these continuities in launching a fierce attack on the Elizabethan festive calendar and its whole ethos, just as they attacked the theater for what they saw as its links with paganism, idleness, and sexual license. Elizabethan and Jacobean authorities in the church and the state had

740

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

their own concerns about idleness and subversion, but they generally protected and patronized both festive ritual and theater on the ground that these provided a valuable release from tensions that might otherwise prove dangerous. Sobriety, piety, and discipline were no doubt admirable virtues, but most human beings were not saints. “Dost thou think because thou art virtuous,” the drunken Sir Toby asks the censorious Malvolio, “there shall be no more cakes and ale?” (2.3.106—07).

Fittingly, the earliest firm record of a performance of Twelfth Night, as noted in the diary of John Manningham, was “at our feast” in the Middle Temple (one of London’s law schools) in February 1602. Manningham cannily noted the comedy’s resemblance to Shakespeare’s earlier play on twins, The Comedy of Errors, as well as to the Roman playwright Plautus’s Menaechmi and to an early-sixteenth-century Italian comedy Gl'Ingannati (The Deceived). Shakespeare also drew on an English story, Barnabe Riche’s tale “Apollonius and Silla” in Riche His Farewell to the Military Profession (1581), which was in turn based on French and Italian sources. There is, however, little precedent, in Riche or in any of the other known sources,

for the aspect of Twelfth Night that Manningham found particularly memorable and that has continued to delight audiences: the gulling of Malvolio. Malvolio (in Italian, “ill will”) is explicitly linked to those among Shakespeare's contemporaries most hostile to the theater and to such holidays as Twelfth Night: “sometimes,” says the Lady Olivia’s gentlewoman Maria, “he is a kind of puritan” (2.3.129). Shakespeare does not hide the cruelty of the treatment to which Malvolio is subjected— “He hath been most notoriously abused” (5.1.374), says Olivia—nor does he shrink from showing the audience other disagreeable qualities in Malvolio’s tormentors, Olivia’s kinsman Sir Toby Belch and his companions. But while the close of the comedy seems to embrace these failings in a tolerant, amused aristocratic recognition of human folly, it can find no place for Malvolio’s blend of puritanical moralizing and social climbing. Malvolio is scapegoated for indulging in a fantasy that colors several of the key relationships in Twelfth Night: the fantasy of winning the favor, and ultimately the hand, of one of the noble and wealthy aristocrats who reign over the social world of the play. The beautiful heiress Olivia, mistress of a great house, is a glittering prize that lures not only Malvolio but also the foolish Sir Andrew and the elegant, imperious Duke Orsino. In falling in love with the duke’s graceful messenger (and, as she thinks she has done, in marrying him), Olivia seems

Robert Armin (from the title page of his

comedy, The History of the Two Maids of More-Clacke [1609]) was the leading comic

to have made precisely the kind of match that had fueled Malvolio’s social-climbing imagination. As _ it turns out, the match is not between unequals: “Be not amazed,” the duke

tells her when she realizes that she

actor in Shakespeare's company after 1600. He

has

played both Feste in Twelfth Night and the Fool

knows:

in King Lear.

(5.1.262). The social order then has

married “Right

someone noble

she scarcely is his

blood”

TEV ERT

NG

iT

tes

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741

not been overturned: as in a carnival, when the disguises are removed, the revelers resume their “proper,” socially and sexually approved positions. Yet there is something irreducibly odd about the marriages with which Twelfth Night ends. Sir Toby has married the lady’s maid Maria as a reward for devising the plot against Malvolio. Olivia has entered into a “contract of eternal bond of love” (5.1.153) with someone whose actual identity is revealed to her only after the marriage is sealed. The strangeness of the bond between virtual strangers is matched by the strangeness of Orsino’s instantaneous decision to marry Cesario—as soon as “he” can become Viola by changing into women’s clothes. Shakespeare conspicuously chooses not to stage this return to conventionality. Part of the quirky delight of the play's conclusion depends on the resilient hopefulness of its central character, Viola, a hopefulness that is linked to her improvisatory boldness, eloquent tongue, and keen wit. These qualities link her to the fool Feste, who does not have a major part in the comedy’s plot but who occupies a place at its imaginative center. Viola seems to acknowledge this place in paying handsome tribute to Feste’s intelligence: “This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, /And to do that well craves a kind of wit” (3.1.59—60). His wit often takes the form of a perverse literalism that slyly calls attention to the play’s repeated confounding of such simple binaries as male and female, outside and inside, role and reality. Feste is irresponsible, vulnerable, and dependent, but he also understands, as he teasingly shows Olivia, that it is foolish to bewail forever a loss that cannot be recovered. And he understands that it is important to take such pleasures as life offers and not to wait: “In delay there lies no plenty,” he sings, “Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. / Youth’s a stuff will not endure” (2.3.48—50). There is

in this wonderful song, as in all of his jests, a current of sadness. Feste knows, as the refrain of the last of his songs puts it, that “the rain it raineth every day” (5.1.387). His counsel is for “present mirth” and “present laughter” (2.3.46). This is, of course, the

advice of a fool. But do the Malvolios of the world have anything wiser to suggest?

Twelfth Night, or What You Will THE PERSONS OF THE PLAy

oRSINO, duke of Illyria VALENTINE ; ; attending on Orsino CURIO | FIRST OFFICER

MARIA, Olivia’s waiting-gentlewoman sir TOBY Belch, Olivia’s kinsman tke SIR ANDREW Aguecheek, companion of Sir Toby

SECOND OFFICER

MALVOLIO, Olivia’s steward

VIOLA, a lady, later disguised as Cesario A CAPTAIN

FABIAN, a member of Olivia’s household FESTE the clown, Olivia’s jester

SEBASTIAN, Viola’s twin brother

A PRIEST

ANTONIO, another sea-captain

A SERVANT of Olivia

OLIVIA, a countess

Musicians, sailors, lords, attendants

1 Enter orsino, Duke of Illyria, curio, and other lords, with

musicians playing.

orSINO

If music be the food of love, play on.

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

1.1 Location: Hlyria, Greek and Roman name for the eastern Adriatic coast; probably not suggesting a real country to Shakespeare’s audience.

742

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

The appetite may sicken and so die. That strain again! It had a dying fall.° O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Enough; no more. ’Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh® art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity, Receiveth as the sea,° naught enters there,

cadence

lively and eager

receives without limit

Of what validity°® and pitch® soe er,

value / height; excellence

But falls into abatement?® and low price Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy°

lesser value

love; desire

That it alone is high fantastical.°

uniquely imaginative

curto Will you go hunt, my lord? What, Curio? ORSINO CURIO

The hart.°

male deer

orsINO. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.' O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence.” 20

That instant was I turned into a hart,

And my desires, like fell? and cruel hounds, E’er since pursue me.? Enter VALENTINE.

Savage

How now, what news from her?

VALENTINE So please my lord, I might° not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years’ heat,* Shall not behold her face at ample® view, But like a cloistress°® she will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round 30

full nun

With eye-offending brine°—all this to season A brother’s dead love,’ which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance. ORSINO

could

O, she that hath a heart of that fine° frame

To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love when the rich golden shaft°® Hath killed the flock of all affections else°

stinging tears

exquisitely made

other emotions

That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,’

40

These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled Her sweet perfections® with one self° king! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers! Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

one and the same

Exeunt.

1. Orsino plays on “hart/heart.” 2. Plague and other illnesses were thought to be caused by bad air. 3. Alluding to the classical myth of Actaeon, who was turned into a stag and hunted by his own hounds for having seen the goddess Diana naked. 4. The sky itself for seven hot summers.

5. Le., all this to preserve (by the salt of the tears) the love of a dead brother. 6. Of Cupid’s golden-tipped arrow, which caused desire. 7. In Elizabethan psychology, the seats of passion, intellect, and feeling, respectively. 8. And her sweet perfections have been filled.

TWEERH ENT GH

YZ

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743

174 vioLA!

Enter VIOLA, A CAPTAIN, and sailors. What country, friends, is this?

CAPTAIN This is Illyria, lady. vioLcA And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium.? Perchance® he is not drowned. What think you, sailors? CAPTAIN It is perchance® that you yourself were saved. VIOLA O my poor brother! And so perchance may he be. CAPTAIN True, madam. And to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you and those poor number saved with you Hung on our driving boat,* I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself— Courage and hope both teaching him the practice— To a strong mast that lived°® upon the sea, Where, like Arion® on the dolphin’s back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves So long as I could see. VIOLA [giving him money| For saying so, there’s gold. Mine own escape unfoldeth to° my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority,° The like of him.® Know’st thou this country? CAPTAIN

25

30

perhaps by chance

remained afloat

encourages support

Ay, madam, well, for I was bred and born

Not three hours’ travel from this very place. vioLA Who governs here? CAPTAIN A noble duke, in nature as in name. vioLA What is his name? CAPTAIN Orsino. vIOLA Orsino. I have heard my father name him. He was a bachelor then. CAPTAIN

And so is now, or was so very late;°

For but a month ago I went from hence, And then ‘twas fresh in murmur°—as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of— That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. vioLA What's sher CAPTAIN A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count

lately

newly rumored

That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother,

Who shortly also died, for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjured® the sight And company of men. 1.2 Location: The coast of Illyria. 1. Viola is not named in the dialogue until Nhl), 2. The heaven of classical mythology. 3. With what may have happened. 4. The ship’s boat. “Driving”: being driven by the

renounced

wind. 5. A legendary Greek musician who, to save himself from being murdered on a voyage, jumped overboard and was carried to land by a dolphin. 6. L.e., that he too has survived.

744

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

VIOLA 40

O, that I served that lady,

And might not be delivered° to the world

revealed

Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,°

What my estate? is. CAPTAIN That were hard to compass,

ripe (to be revealed) social rank ie)

Because she will admit no kind of suit,° No, not the Duke’s. 45

50

55

60

achieve

petition

vioLA There is a fair behavior’ in thee, captain, And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character.® pray thee I prithee°—and I'll pay thee bounteously— Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become shape The form? of my intent.’ I’ll serve this duke. Thou shalt present me as an eunuch! to him. It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing And speak to him in many sorts of music That will allow° me very worth his service. prove What else may hap, to time I will commit. Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.° imagination; plan CAPTAIN Be you his eunuch, and your mute? I'll be. When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. vioLa I thank thee. Lead me on. Exeunt. 13 Enter str Tosy [Belch] and Maria.

10

sik TOBY What a plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care’s an enemy to life. MARIA By my troth,° Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o’ nights. Your cousin,' my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. sir TOBY Why, let her except before excepted! MARIA Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest° limits of order. siR TOBY Confine? I'll confine myself no finer’ than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too. An®° they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps! 7. Outward appearance; conduct. 8. Appearance (suggesting moral qualities). 9. That perhaps may be fitting to my purpose. 1. Castrati

(hence,

“eunuchs”)

were

prized

as

male sopranos; the disguise would have explained Viola’s feminine voice. Viola (or perhaps Shakespeare) seems to have changed plans: she presents herself instead as a young page. 2. In Turkish harems, eunuchs served as guards

and were assisted by “mutes” (usually servants

faith

moderate

whose tongues had been cut out). 1.3 Location: The Countess Olivia's house. 1. Term used generally of kinsfolk. 2. Playing on the legal jargon exceptis excipiendis, “with the previous stated exceptions.” Sir Toby refuses to take Olivia’s displeasure seriously. 3. Suggesting both “a refined manner of dress” and “narrowly” (referring to his girth).

TWEERRH

20

MARIA That quaffing and drinking will undo you. I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. sik TOBY Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek? MARIA Ay, he. SIR TOBY He's as tall a man as any’s? in Illyria. MARIA What's that to th’ purpose? sir TOBY Why, he has three thousand ducats a year! MARIA Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats.> He’s a very® fool and a prodigal. siR TOBY Fie that you'll say so! He plays o’ th’ viol-degamboys,° and speaks three or four languages word for word without book,° and hath all the good gifts of nature. MARIA

30

35

40

ENLGHT i133

|

745

an absolute

from memory

He hath indeed, almost natural,’ for besides that

he’s a fool, he’s a great quarreler, and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust® he hath in quarreling, ‘tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. sik TOBY By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors® that say so of him. Who are they? MARIA They that add, moreover, he’s drunk nightly in your company. sir TOBY With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria. He’s a coward and a coistrel® that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’ th’ toe like a parish top.? What, wench! Castiliano vulgo,! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

gusto

horse groom; lout

Enter siR ANDREW [Aguecheek].

SIR ANDREW _ Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch?

45

SIR TOBY Sweet Sir Andrew! SIR ANDREW [to MARIA] Bless you, fair shrew.” MARIA And you too, sir. sin TOBY Accost, Sir Andrew, accost!? SIR ANDREW

sik TOBY

50

What’s that?

My niece’s chambermaid.*

SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. MARIA My name is Mary, sir. SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Mary Accost—

4. Any (man who) is. “Tall”: brave; worthy. (Maria

takes it in the modern sense of height.) 5. I.e., he'll spend his fortune in a year. 6. A facetious corruption of “viola da gamba,” a bass viol held between the knees. 7. Idiots and fools were called “naturals.”

and exercise. 1. Variously interpreted, but may mean “Speak of the devil,” because Castilians were considered devilish, and vulgo refers to the common tongue. 2. Sir Andrew possibly confuses “shrew” (ill-

tempered woman) with “mouse,” an endearment.

8. Corruption of “detractors.” (In reply, Maria

3. Address

puns on “substract” as “subtract.”)

ing “go alongside; greet.” 4. Lady-in-waiting; not a menial servant, but a gentlewoman in attendance on a great lady.

9. Parishes kept large tops that were spun by whipping them, for the parishioners’ amusement

(her); originally a naval term mean-

746

|

sin TOBY

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

You mistake, knight. “Accost” is front® her, board

confront

her, woo her, assail her. wi wi

SIR ANDREW By my troth, I would not undertake® her in this company.° Is that the meaning of “accost”? MARIA

60

65

70

~I vi

sir TOBY An thou let part so,’ Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again. SIR ANDREW An you part so, mistress, | would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?° MARIA Sir, I have not you by th’ hand. SIR ANDREW Marry,® but you shall have, and here’s my hand. MARIA [taking his hand| Now, sir, thought is free.’ I pray you, bring your hand to th’ butt’ry bar’ and let it drink. SIR ANDREW Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor? MARIA __ It’s dry,? sir. SIR ANDREW Why, I think so. I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry.’ But what’s your jest? MARIA A dry jest,’ sir. SIR ANDREW Are you full of them? MARIA Ay, sir, | have them at my fingers’ ends.’ Marry, now | let go your hand, I am barren.° Exit sir TOBY O knight, thou lack’st a cup of canary!® When did I see thee so put down?’ SIR ANDREW.

80

i.e., the audience

Fare you well, gentlemen. [begins to exit]

to deal with

empty of jokes

Never in your life, I think, unless you see

canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian’ or an ordinary man has. But I am a great eater of beef,’ and I believe that does harm to my wit. siR TOBY No question.

85

90

SIR ANDREW An I thought that, I’d forswear it. I'll ride home tomorrow, Sir Toby. stR TOBY Pourquoi, my dear knight? SIR ANDREW What is “pourquoi”? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues! that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, had I but followed the arts! sir TOBY Then hadst thou? had an excellent head of hair. 5. Greet (also nautical). “Board”: speak to; tackle.

6. Take her on (with sexual implication). 7. If you let her go without protest or without bidding her farewell. 8. Indeed (originally, the name of the Virgin Mary used as an oath), 9. The customary retort to “Do you think I ama fool?” 1. Ledge on the half-door to a buttery or a wine cellar, on which drinks were served. 2. Thirsty; but a dry hand was also thought to be a sign of impotence. 3. Alluding to the proverb “Even fools have

why

you would have

enough wit to come in out of the rain.” 4. A stupid joke (referring to Sir Andrew’s stupidity); an ironic quip; a joke about dryness. 5. Always ready; or “by th’ hand” (line 62). 6. A sweet wine, like sherry, originally from the Canary Islands. 7. Defeated in repartee; “put down” with drink. 8. i.e., an average man. 9. Contemporary medicine held that beef dulled the intellect (“wit”).

1. Foreign languages; Sir Toby takes him to mean “curling tongs.”

Web

ieielnl Wiiclalae

SIR ANDREW Why, would that have mended® my hair? SIR TOBY Past question, for thou seest it will not curl by

iss}

|

747

improved

nature.”

95

100

SIR ANDREW But it becomes me well enough, does’t not? sir TOBY Excellent! It hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife? take thee between her legs and spin it off. SIR ANDREW Faith, I'll home tomorrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be seen, or if she be, it’s four to one she’ll

none of me. The Count himself here hard by° woos her. She’ll none o’ th’ Count. She’ll not match above her degree,° neither in estate,° years, nor wit. I have heard

nearby

SIR TOBY

social rank

her swear't. Tut, there’s life in’t,? man. 105

110

115

125

I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o’ th’ strangest mind i’ th’ world. I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. SIR TOBY Art thou good at these kickshawses,® knight? SIR ANDREW As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.? siR TOBY What is thy excellence in a galliard,! knight? SIR ANDREW Faith, I can cut a caper.? sik TOBY And I can cut the mutton to’. SIR ANDREW And I think I have the back-trick? simply as strong as any man in Illyria. sik TOBY Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these gifts a curtain* before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall’s’ picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in a coranto?® My very walk should be a jig. | would not so much as make water but in a cinquepace.’ What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.® SIR ANDREW

SIR ANDREW Ay, ‘tis strong, and it does indifferent® well in a flame-colored stock.° Shall we set about some revels? What shall we do else? Were we not born under SIR TOBY Taurus?’

2. To contrast with Sir Andrew’s “arts” (line 90).

3. In spinning, flax would hang in long, thin, yel-

lowish strings on the “distaff,” a pole held between the knees. 4. Housewives spun flax; the pronunciation, “hus-

wife,” also suggests the meaning “prostitute.” 5. Make him bald (as a result of venereal disease).

6. Status; possessions. 7. Proverbial: While there’s life, there’s hope. 8. Trifles; trivialities (from the French quelque chose). 9. Expert (perhaps a backhanded compliment). 1. A lively, complex dance, including the caper. 2. Leap. (Sir Toby puns on the pickled flower buds used in a sauce of mutton.)

moderately stocking

3. Probably a dance movement, a kick of the foot behind the body (also suggesting sexual prowess, with later reference to “mutton” as “prostitute”). 4. Used to protect paintings from dust. 5. Like “Moll[y],” “Mall” was a nickname for “Mary.” 6. An even more rapid dance than the galliard. 7. Galliard, or, more properly, the steps joining the figures of the dance; punning on “sink,” as in “sewer.” 8. Astrological influences favorable to dancing. 9. The astrological sign of the bull was usually

thought to govern the neck and throat (appropriate to heavy drinkers).

748

130

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

SIR ANDREW _ Taurus? That’s sides and heart.

sir TOBY

No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper.

[SIR ANDREW dances] Ha, higher! Ha, ha, excellent.

Exeunt 1.4

Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man’s attire [as Cesario]|

VALENTINE

If the Duke

continue

these favors towards

you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced. He hath

known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. VIOLA You either fear his humor® or my negligence, that

moodiness

you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favors?

VALENTINE

10

No, believe me.

vioLA_

I thank you. Here comes the Count.

ORSINO

Enter ORSINO, CURIO, and attendants Who saw Cesario, ho?

VIOLA

On your attendance,° my lord, here.

ORSINO [to CURIO and Attendants] aloof.° [to vioLa] Cesario,

waiting at your service

Stand you a while

aside

Thou know’st no less but all.° I have unclasped To thee the book even of my secret soul. Therefore, good youth, address thy gait® unto her.

than everything

go

Be not denied access, stand at her doors

And tell them, there thy fixéd foot shall grow? Till thou have audience. VIOLA 20

30

take root

Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandoned to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. ORSINO Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds! Rather than make unprofited® return. VIOLA Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? ORSINO O, then unfold the passion of my love. Surprise? her with discourse of my dear? faith. It shall become thee well to act my woes— She will attend? it better in thy youth

unsuccessful

heartfelt pay attention to

Than in a nuncio’s® of more grave aspect.° vioLA_ I think not so, my lord. ORSINO Dear lad, believe it;

messengers / appearance

For they shall yet° belie thy happy years°® That say thou art a man. Diana’s lip Is not more smooth and rubious,° thy small pipe®

thus far / propitious youth ruby red /voice

Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound,?

And all is semblative® a woman’s part. I know thy constellation? is right apt 1.4 Location: Orsino’s palace. 1, All constraints of polite behavior. 2. Capture by unexpected attack.

3. High-pitched and uncracked. 4, Nature and abilities (as supposedly mined by the stars).

like

deter-

WE

ne NINGHG

eS

|

749

For this affair. [to curR1o and attendants| Some four or five attend him,

40

All, if you will, for I myself am best When least in company. [to vioLa] Prosper well in this And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine. VIOLA Pll do my best To woo your lady. [aside] Yet a barful strife! Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.

Exeunt.

1.5 Enter MARIA and [FESTE,! the] clown.

MARIA Nay, either tell me where thou hast been or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in° way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence. FESTE Let her hang me. He that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colors.? MARIA Make that good.° FESTE He shall see none to fear. MARIA A good Lenten? answer. I can tell thee where that saying was born, of “I fear no colors.” FESTE Where, good Mistress Mary? MARIA In the wars;* and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. FESTE Well, God give them wisdom that have it, and

by

explain that

those that are fools, let them use their talents.*

MARIA _ Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent, or to be turned away°—is not that as good as a hanging to your FESTE Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage,’ and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.° 20

25

MARIA FESTE MARIA

You are resolute, then? Not so, neither, but | am resolved on two points.° That if one break, the other will hold, or, if both

break, your gaskins? fall. FESTE Apt, in good faith, very apt. Well, go thy way. If Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh® as any in Illyria. MARIA

make it endurable

matters; laces

wide breeches

Peace, you rogue. No more o’ that. Here comes my

lady. Make your excuse wisely, you were best.°

5. An undertaking full of impediments. 1.5 Location: Olivia's house. 1. The name is used only once, at 2.4.11. 2. Proverbia! for “fear nothing.” “Colors”: here, worldly deceptions, with puns on “collars” as “hangman’s nooses” and “cholers” as “anger.” 3. Thin or meager (like Lenten fare).

4. “Colors” in the saying originally referred to

military flags. 5. Alluding to the parable ofthe talents, Matthew 25:14-30. The comic implication is that a fool

[Exit.]

you had better

should strive to increase his measure of folly. Because “fool” and “fowl” had similar pronunciations, there may also be a play on “talents/talons.” 6. Dismissed; also, perhaps, playing on turned off as “hanged.” 7. Proverbial. “Hanging”: execution; sexual prow-

ess. 8. Woman. Feste may imply both that Maria and Toby would make a good match and that Maria is as witty as Toby is sober.

750

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Enter Lady ottvia with MALvoLio [and attendants]. 30

FESTE [aside] Wit,’ an’t? be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools, and I that am sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man.

For what says Quinapalus?!

if it

“Better a witty

Fool than a foolish wit.” God bless thee, lady. OLIVIA [to attendants] 35

40

‘Take the fool away.

FESTE Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. OLIVIA Go to, youre a dry? fool. I'll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest.° FESTE ‘Two faults, madonna,’ that drink and good counsel will amend. For give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry. Bid the dishonest man mend?° himself: if he

unreliable

my lady reform

mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the

50

botcher® mend him. Anything that’s mended is but tailor; cobbler patched; virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin, and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty’s a flower.* The lady bade take away the fool. Therefore, I say again, take her away. OLiviA Sir, I bade them take away you. FESTE Misprision* in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum.° That’s as much to say as, I wear not motley® in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. OLIVIA Can you do it? FESTE Dexteriously,° good madonna. dexterously oLiviA Make your proof. FESTE I must catechize’ you for it, madonna. Good my mouse of virtue,’ answer me. my good virtuous mouse oLivIA

60

Well, sir, for want of other idleness,° I'll bide? your

pastime / await

proof. FESTE Good madonna, why mournest thou? oLiviA_ Good fool, for my brother’s death. FESTE [| think his soul is in hell, madonna. oLiviA_ I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

FESTE The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. oLtiviA What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he not mend?®

9. Intelligence, which is often contrasted with

4. Misapprehension; wrongful arrest.

1. Feste frequently invents his own authorities. 2. Dull, but Feste interprets as “thirsty.” “Go to”:

proverb). 6. The multicolored costume of a fool.

will.

an expression of impatience. 3. In taking her vow (1.2.38—39),

Olivia

has

wedded herself to calamity but must be unfaithful, or let pass her moment of beauty.

5. The cowl does not make

the monk

7. Question (as in catechism, orthodoxy ofbelief).

which

(a Latin

tests

the

8. Improve, but Malvolio takes “mend” to mean “grow more foolish.”

RWELRRHE NG

70

80

85

90

MALVOLIO Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity,° that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.’ FESTE God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool. OLIVIA How say you to that, Malvolio? MALVOLIO I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal. | saw him put down! the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard® already. Unless you laugh and minister occasion? to him, he is gagged. I protest | take these wise men that crow so at these set® kind of fools no better than the fools’ zanies.° OLIVIA O, you are sick of® self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered? appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free® disposition is to take those things for birdbolts* that you deem cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allowed? fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. FESTE Now Mercury indue thee with leasing,’ for thou speakest well of fools.

AT

e5

|

751

(old) age

defenseless artificial “straight men” with magnanimous licensed

Enter MARIA. 95

100

MARIA Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. OLIVIA From the Count Orsino, is it? MARIA I know not, madam. ‘Tis a fair young man, and well attended. oLtivia_ Who of my people hold him in delay? MARIA Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. oLiviA_ Fetch him off, I pray you. He speaks nothing but madman.’ Fie on him! [MARIA exits.]| Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home;

105

madman’s talk

what you will, to dismiss it. [Malvolio exits.| Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old,° and people dislike it. FESTE Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram with brains, for—here he comes—one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.® Enter SIR TOBY. oLivia By mine honor, half-drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?°

sin TOBY

stale

kinsman

A gentleman.

9. Make the fool more foolish.

4. Blunt arrows for shooting birds.

1. Defeated in repartee. 2. And give opportunity.

5. May Mercury, the god of deception, endow you with the talent of tactful lying.

3. Unbalanced; sick.

6. Brain; or literally, the membrane enclosing it.

752

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

oLtivia A gentleman? What gentleman? sR TOBY "Tis a gentleman here. [He belches.] A plague o’ 115

125

these pickle herring! —How now, sot?° FESTE Good Sir Toby. OLIVIA Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? sin TOBY Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one? at the gate. OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he? sir TOBY Let him be the devil an® he will, I care not. Give me faith,’ say I. Well, it’s all one.° Exit oLtviA What's a drunken man like, fool? FESTE Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One draught above heat® makes him a fool, the second mads

fool, drunkard

someone if it doesn’t matter

him, and a third drowns him.

oLiviA Go thou and seek the coroner and let him sit 0’° hold an inquest for my coz,° for he’s in the third degree of drink: he’s cousin; uncle drowned. Go look after him. 130

FESTE He is but mad yet, madonna, look to the madman. Enter MALVOLIO.

and the fool shall [Exit.]

MALVOLIO. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand 135

140

so much, and therefore? comes

to

speak with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? He’s fortified against any denial. oLiviA Tell him he shall not speak with me. MALVOLIO He’s been told so, and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff's post! and be the supporter to a bench, but he’ll speak with you. oLiviA What kind o’ man is he? MALVOLIO Why, of mankind.° oLiviA What manner of man? MALVOLIO Of very ill manner. He’ll speak with you, will you or no. oLiviA Of what personage? and years is he? MALVOLIO Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy—as a squash is before ’tis a peascod, or a codling* when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis with him in standing water,* between boy and man. He is very wellfavored,° and he speaks very shrewishly.4 One would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him. oLiviA Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman. MALVOLIO Gentlewoman, my lady calls. Exit. 7. To defy the devil by faith alone.

8. One drink (“draught”)

beyond the quantity

appearance

handsome

as a sign of authority. 2. An unripe apple. “Squash”: an undeveloped

necessary to warm him.

pea pod.

9. For that very reason.

3. At the turn of the tide.

1. A decorative post set before a sheriff's door,

like any other

3. Sharply.

WEL He NIVGHT)

15

|

IG'SyS)

Enter MARIA.

OLIVIA Give me my veil. Come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino’s embassy. Enter viota [as Cesario]. 160

165

vioLA The honorable lady of the house, which is she? OLIVIA Speak to me. I shall answer for her. Your will? vioLA Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty— I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her. I would be loath to cast away° my speech, for, besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con® it. Good beauties, let me sustain® no scorn. | am very comptible,° even to the least sinister

waste

memorize / suffer sensitive

usage.’

170

175

oLiviA Whence came you, sir? VIOLA I can say little more than I have studied,° and that question’s out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest°® assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. OLIVIA Are you a comedian?® VIOLA No, my profound heart.’ And yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear I am not that° I play. Are you the lady of the house? oLiviA IfI do not usurp® myself, | am. vioLA Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself, for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission.’ I will on° with my speech in your praise and then show you the heart of my message. OLIVIA Come to what is important in’t, I forgive you° the

adequate an actor

what

continue

excuse

YOU fro m

praise.

190

vIOLA Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. oLiviA It is the more like to be feigned. I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy° at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone. If you have reason,’ be brief. Tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.! MARIA Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way. vioLA

195

impertinent

any sanity

No, good swabber, I am to hull? here a little longer.

—Some mollification for your giant,’ sweet lady. Tell me your mind, I am a messenger.* OLIviA Sure you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful.’ Speak your office.

5. To the slightest discourteous treatment. 6. Learned by heart (a theatrical term). 7. My most wise lady; upon my soul. 8. Counterfeit; misappropriate. 9. Beyond my instructions. 1. I am not lunatic enough to take part in so flighty a conversation. (Lunacy was thought to be influenced by the phases of the moon.)

business

2. To lie unanchored with lowered sails. 3. Mythical giants guarded ladies; here, also mocking Maria's diminutive size. “Some . . . for”: please pacify. 4. From Orsino; Olivia pretends she understands her to mean a king’s messenger, or a messenger-atarms, employed on important state affairs. 5. When the introduction of it is so fearsome.

754

|

vIOLA

200

205

215

It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture® of

declaration

meaning

reception would are as secret as maidenhead:° to your ears, divinvirginity ity; to any other’s, profanation. Give us the place alone. OLIVIA [to MARIA and attendants| We will hear this divinity.° [mARIA and attendants exit.] religious discourse Now, sir, what is your text?® vIOLA Most sweet lady— comforting oLtiviA A comfortable® doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? VIOLA In Orsino’s bosom. OLIVIA In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? VIOLA To answer by the method,’ in the first of his heart. in the same style OLIVIA O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? VIOLA Good madam, let me see your face. OLIVIA Have you any commission from your lord to negotistraying from ate with my face? You are now out of° your text. But we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. [She removes her veil.| Look you, sir, such a one I was this present.’ Is’t not well done? OLIVIA

230

SHAKESPEARE

war, no taxation of homage.° I hold the olive’ in my hand. My words are as full of peace as matter.° OLIvIA Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would your vioLA The rudeness that hath appeared in me have | learned from my entertainment.? What I am and what I

VIOLA we ie)wi)

WILLIAM

VIOLA

Excellently done, if God did all.'

"Tis in grain,° sir; twill endure wind and weather. "Tis beauty truly blent,? whose red and white

Nature’s own sweet and cunning? hand laid Lady, you are the cruel’st she® alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. OLIVIA O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted! out divers schedules® of my beauty. It shall ried and every particle and utensil labeled*

on.

forth.

skillful woman

I will give be inventoto my will:

as, item, two lips, indifferent® red; item, two gray eyes, with lids* to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so VIOLA

the dye is fast

Were you sent hither to praise® me?

inventories

moderate

appraise; flatter

I see you what you are. You are too proud.

But if? you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you. O, such love 6. Demand for dues paid to a superior. 7. Olive branch (as a symbol of peace). 8. Quotation (as a theme of a sermon, in keeping with “divinity,” “doctrine,” “heresy,” etc.). 9, Portraits usually gave the year of painting. “This present” was a term used to date letters. 1. If it is natural (without the use of cosmetics). 2. Blended, or mixed (of paints). Shakespeare uses the same metaphor in sonnet 20, lines 1—2.

even if

As Cesario, Viola is playing with established conventions of poetic courtship.

3. Viola means “child”; Olivia takes her to mean “list” or “inventory.” 4. Every single part and article added as a codicil (parodying the legal language of a last will and testament). 5. Eyelids, but also punning on “pot lids” (punning on “utensil” as a household implement).

iW

BERTH

ENVGAT

15

|

ffoHS)

Could be but recompensed though® you were crowned The nonpareil of beauty.° 240

w + ui

OLIVIA vioLA

an unequaled beauty

How does he love me? With adorations, fertile® tears,

In voices’ well divulged,° free,° learned, and valiant,

250

ever-flowing

With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. OLIviA_ Your lord does know my mind. I cannot love him. Yet | suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate,° of fresh and stainless youth;

high status spoken of /generous

And in dimension and the shape of nature® A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him. He might have took his answer long ago. vioLa If I did love you in® my master’s flame,° With such a suff’ring, such a deadly° life, In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it. OLIVIA Why, what would you? vioLA Make me a willow’ cabin at your gate And call upon my soul® within the house, Write loyal cantons of contemnéd? love

260

265

270

And sing them loud even in the dead of night, Hallow! your name to the reverberate? hills And make the babbling gossip of the air? Cry out “Olivia!” O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth But° you should pity me. oLiviA You might do much. What is your parentage? vIoLA Above my fortunes, yet my state® is well. I am a gentleman. OLIVIA Get you to your lord. I cannot love him. Let him send no more— Unless perchance® you come to me again To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well. I thank you for your pains. Spend this for me.

with /passion deathlike

i.e., Olivia songs of rejected

echoing

unless

social status

perhaps

[She offers money.|

vioLA_ Iam no fee’d post,’ lady. Keep your purse. My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint that you shall love.* And let your fervor, like my master’s, be Placed in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty. Exit. oLtiviA “What is your parentage?” “Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. Iam a gentleman.” [’II be sworn thou art. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit

hired messenger

6. Would have to be requited even if.

the nymph

7. In the general opinion. 8. “Dimension” and “shape of nature” are synonymous, meaning “bodily form.” 9, Traditional symbol of rejected love. 1, Shout; or perhaps “hallow,” as in “bless.”

2. For the love of Narcissus,

Echo

wasted away to a mere voice, able to repeat only whatever she heard spoken. 3. May love make the heart of the man you love as hard as flint.

756

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Do give thee fivefold blazon.* Not too fast! Soft,? soft— Unless the master were the man.’ How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections With an invisible and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be — What ho, Malvolio!

wait

Enter MALVOLIO.

290

295

MALVOLIO Here, madam, at your service. oLiviA Run after that same peevish messenger, The County’s® man. He left this ring behind him, Would I° or not. Tell him I'll? none of it. Desire him not to flatter with® his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him. If that the youth will come this way tomorrow, I'll give him reasons for’t. Hie thee,° Malvolio. MALVOLIO. Madam, I will. oLiviA I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.° Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe.°

Count’s

whether I wished it / (have) encourage

hurry

Exit.

own

What is decreed must be, and be this so. [Exit at another door.| aul

vw

10

Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. ANTONIO Will you stay no longer? Nor will° you not that I go with you? SEBASTIAN By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly! over me. The malignancy of my fate? might perhaps distemper® yours. Therefore I shall crave of you your leave? that I may bear my evils alone. It were® a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. ANTONIO Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. SEBASTIAN No, sooth,° sir. My determinate® voyage is mere extravagancy.° But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty® that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in. Therefore it charges me in manners* the rather to express° myself. You must know of me, then, Antonio,

my name

is Sebastian,

which

wish

infect would be

truly / destined idle wandering politeness reveal

I called

Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline? whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an° hour. If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! But you, sir,

within the same

4. Formal description of a gentleman’s coat of arms. 5. If Orsino were Cesario (“man”: servant).

il, Forebodingly; unfavorably. 2. Evil influence of the stars; “malignancy” also signifies a deadly disease.

6. L.e., my eye (through which love has entered my heart) has seduced my reason. 2.1 Location: Near the coast of Illyria.

4. Therefore courtesy requires. 5. Possibly Messina, Sicily.

3. Permission.

APNN EWLIS Wal ISIC

altered that, for some hour before you took me from the breach? of the sea was my sister drowned. ANTONIO Alas the day! SEBASTIAN A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful. But though I could not with such estimable° wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish® her: she bore a mind that envy° could not but call fair. She is drowned

30

35

40

a

722

|

(Sue

surf

appreciative

proclaim malice

already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to

drown her remembrance again with more. ANTONIO Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.° SEBASTIAN O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. ANTONIO If you will not murder me’ for my love, let me be your servant. SEBASTIAN — If you will not undo what you have done—that is, kill him whom you have recovered°—desire it not. Fare rescued ye well at once. My bosom is full of kindness,° and I am tender emotion yet° so near the manners of my mother® that, upon the still least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me.° |am betray my feelings bound to the Count Orsino’s court. Farewell. Exit. favor ANTONIO ‘The gentleness°® of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino’s court, Else° would I very shortly see thee there. otherwise But come what may, I do adore thee so That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Exit. ave separate Enter vioLa and MALVOLIO, at several® doors. just MALVOLIO. Were not you even® now with the Countess Olivia? at VIOLA Even now, sir. On° a moderate pace I have since come only this far arrived but hither.° MALVOLIO. She returns this ring to you, sir. You might by taking have saved me my pains to have taken? it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance? she will none of him.' And one thing hopeless certainty bold more, that you be never so hardy° to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord’s taking of this.’ Receive it so. vioLA_ She took the ring of me.’ I'll none of it. MALVOLIO Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is it should be so returned. [He throws down the ring.| sight If it be worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye;° if

not, be it his that finds it.

Exit.

6. Your poor reception; your inhospitality. 7. Le., murder him by insisting that they part. 8. l.e., so near woman's readiness to weep.

1. She will accept no part of his proposal. 2. Reception of this (rejection). 4 3. Viola pretends to believe Olivia's story. “Of”:

2.2 Location:

from.

no’s palace.

Between

Olivia’s house and Orsi-

{OSS}

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

vioLA I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

20

[She picks up the ring.] Fortune forbid my outside? have not charmed her! She made good view of° me, indeed so much That sure methought her eyes had lost° her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, sure! The cunning of her passion Invites me in® this churlish messenger. None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none!

appearance looked carefully at made her lose

by means of

I am the man.1 [f it be so, as ’tis,

30

Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy’ does much. How easy is it for the proper false® In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!’ Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, For such as we are made of, such we be.®

How will this fadge?? My master loves her dearly,

turn out

And I, poor monster,’ fond? as much on him, And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. What will become of this? As | am man,

dote

My state is desperate® for my master’s love. As I am woman 40

hopeless

(now, alas the day!),

What thriftless° sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! O Time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t’ untie.

unprofitable

[Exit.]

2,3

vi

10

Enter sir TOBY and SIR ANDREW. sik TOBY Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after midnight is to be up betimes,°? and “diliculo surgere,”! thou knowest. SIR ANDREW _ Nay, by my troth,° I know not. But I know to be up late is to be up late. sir TOBY A false conclusion. I hate it as an unfilled can.° To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early, so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our lives consist of the four elements?? SIR ANDREW

early faith tankard

Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists

of eating and drinking. sik TOBY Thou'rt a scholar. Let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say, a stoup® of wine!

two-pint tankard

Enter |FESTE, the] clown. SIR ANDREW Here comes the fool, i’ faith. 4. Le., the man love.

with whom

she has fallen in

5. The devil, teeming (“pregnant”) with ideas.

6. Handsome, but deceitful (men).

7. To impress their images on women’s

tions (as a seal stamps

9. Because she is both man and woman. 2.3 Location: Olivia’s house.

1. Part of a Latin proverb, meaning “to rise at dawn (is most healthy).”

affec-

its image in wax).

8. For being made of frail flesh, we are frail.

2. The four elements, thought to make up all matter, were earth, air, fire, and water.

TWEEWit (NG ET

wi

|

HSS)

FESTE How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of “We Three”? SIR TOBY Welcome, ass. Now let’s have a catch.4 SIRANDREW By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast.°

25

2°33

I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,° and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has.—In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus.’ "Twas very good, i’ faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman.° Hadst it? FESTE I did impeticos thy gratillity,° for Malvolio’s nose is no whipstock, my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.’ SIR ANDREW Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when

singing voice (for dancing)

sweetheart

all is done. Now, a song. 30

sIR TOBY [to FESTE] Let’s have a song. SIR ANDREW [to FESTE|

2p)

Come on, there is sixpence for you. There’s a testril® of me, too. If one

knight give a—’? FESTE Would you have a love song or a song of good life? sir TOBY A love song, a love song. SIR ANDREW _ Ay, ay, | care not for good life. FESTE sings

40

45

50

O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear! Your truelove’s coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip® no further, pretty sweeting. Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know! SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i’ faith. siR TOBY Good, good. FESTE What is love? ’Tis not hereafter. Present mirth hath present laughter. What’s to come is still° unsure. In delay there lies no plenty, Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.° Youth’s a stuff will not endure. SIR ANDREW. A mellifluous voice, as | am true knight. sin TOBY A contagious breath.* SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i’ faith.

3. A trick picture portraying two fools’ or asses’ heads, the third being the viewer. 4. Round: a simple song for several voices. 5. “Pigrogromitus ...Queubus”: Feste’s mock learning. “Equinoctial”: equator of the astronomical heavens. 6. Comic jargon for “impocket (or impetticoat) your gratuity.” 7. Perhaps it is the sheer inscrutability of Feste’s foolery that so impresses

Sir Andrew

(line 28).

“Whipstock”: handle of a whip. “Myrmidons”: in the Iliad, Achilles’s warriors. “Bottle-ale houses”:

go

always twenty-times sweet

cheap taverns. 8. Sir Andrew’s version of “tester” (sixpence). 9. In the First Folio, “give a” appears at the end

of a justified line; an omission is possible. 1. The words of the song are not certainly Shakespeare’s; they fit the tune of an instrumental piece printed in Thomas Morley’s First Book of Consort Lessons (1599). “Wise man’s son”: wise men were

thought to have foolish sons. 2. Catchy voice; with a play on “disease-causing . oy air.

760

|

sin TOBY 55

60

65

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

‘To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.*

But shall we make the welkin® dance indeed? Shall we

rouse the night owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver?* Shall we do that? SIR ANDREW An? you love me, let’s do’t. I am dog? at a catch. FESTE By’r Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. SIRANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be “Thou Knave. FESTE “Hold thy peace, thou knave,”” knight? I shall be constrained in’t to call thee “knave,” knight. SIR ANDREW _ "Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me “knave.” Begin, Fool. It begins “Hold thy peace.” FESTE I shall never begin if Ihold my peace. SIR ANDREW Good, i’ faith. Come, begin. [They sing the catch.]

sky

if/clever 2)

Enter MARIA.

MARIA What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

70

“I wi)

s0

SIR TOBY My lady’s a Cathayan,° we are politicians,? Malvolio’s a Peg-a’-Ramsey,’ and [sings] “Three merry men be we.”*® Am not I consanguineous?’ Am I not of her blood? Tillyvally!° “Lady”! [sings] “There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.”! FESTE Beshrew° me, the knight’s in admirable fooling. SIR ANDREW Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I, too. He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.” sir TOBY [sings] “O’ the twelfth day of December’?— MARIA For the love o’ God, peace!

schemers

fiddlesticks curse

Enter MALVOLIO. MALVOLIO My masters, are you mad? Or what Have you no wit,° manners, nor honesty° but like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an of my lady’s house, that you squeak out your

85

90

are you? to gabble sense / decency alehouse coziers’° cobblers’ catches without any mitigation or remorse? of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? sin TOBY We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!° go hang yourself MALVOLIO Sir Toby, I must be round® with you. My lady plainspoken bade me tell you that, though she harbors you as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an° it would please you to if take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. 3. If one could hear through the nose, the sound would be sweetly (“dulcet”) infectious. 4. Weavers were traditionally addicted to psalm singing, so to move them with popular catches would be a great triumph. Music was said to be able to draw the soul from the body. 5. The words of the catch are “Hold thy peace, I prithee hold thy peace, thou knave.” Each singer repeatedly calls the others knaves and tells them to stop singing. 6. Chinese; but also ethnocentric slang for “trickster” or “cheat.”

7. Name of a dance and popular song; here, used contemptuously. 8. Refrain of a popular song. 9. A blood relative (of Olivia’s).

1. The opening and refrain of a popular song. 2. Effortlessly; but, unconsciously playing on the sense of natural as “fool” or “idiot.” 3. Snatch of a ballad; or possibly a drunken version

of “twelfth

day of Christmas,”

Twelfth Night, 4. Without any abating or softening,

that

is,

TWEERRDH

SIR TOBY [sings] 5}

100

105

SNNGHT

|

761

“Farewell, dear heart, since | must needs

be gone.” MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby. FESTE “His eyes do show his days are almost done.” MALVOLIO _ Is’t even so? sir TOBY “But I will never die.” FESTE “Sir Toby, there you lie.” MALVOLIO This is much credit to you. sir TOBY “Shall I bid him go?” FESTE “What an if? you do?” siR TOBY “Shall I bid him go, and spare not?” FESTE “Ono, no, no, no, you dare not.” SIR TOBY

2245

Out o’ tune, sir? Ye lie. Art any more

an if=if

than a

steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?® FESTE Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger’ shall be hot i’ th’ mouth, too. 110

sik TOBY

Thourt i’ th’ right——Go,

sir, rub your chain

with crumbs.8—A stoup of wine, Maria!

115

120

125

130

135

MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favor at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule.° She shall know of it, by this hand. Exit.? MARIA Go shake your ears!° SIR ANDREW. Iwere as good a deed as to drink when a man’s a-hungry, to challenge him the field° and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him. str TOBY Dot, knight. I’ll write thee a challenge. Or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. MARIA Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since the youth of the Count’s was today with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him.° If Ido not gull him into a nayword! and make him a common recreation,’ do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed. I know I can do it. sin TOBY Possess° us, possess us, tell us something of him. MARIA Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.’ sIR ANDREW

behavior (like an ass) to a duel

leave him to me sport, jest

inform

O, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog!

sik TOBY What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite® son, dear knight? SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I reason good enough. MARIA The devil a puritan that he is, or anything stantly but a time-pleaser;° an affectioned? ass that 5. Part of another song that Sir Toby and Feste adapt for the occasion. 6. Traditionally associated with church festivals and therefore disliked by Puritans. 7. Used to spice ale. Saint Anne was the mother of the Virgin; the oath would be offensive to Puritans, who attacked her cult.

8. Clean your steward’s chain; mind your own

rea-

ingenious

have concons

bootlicker

business. 9. Feste plays no further part in this scene. This is the suggested exit for him too. 1. If 1do not trick (“gull”) him into a byword (for “dupe”).

2. Could mean “morally strict and censorious,” as well as “a follower of the Puritan religious faith.” 3. Affected.

762

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

state without book and utters it by great swaths;* the best persuaded of himself,’ so crammed, as he thinks,

140

145

with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith® that all that look on him love him. And on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. sir TOBY What wilt thou do? MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love, wherein by the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure® of his eye, forehead,

iso

155

expression

he shall find himself most

feelingly personated.° I can write very like my lady your niece; on a forgotten® matter, we can hardly make distinction of our hands.° ~=6SIR TOBY Excellent! I smell a device.° SIR ANDREW _| have'’t in my nose, too. siR TOBY He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she’s in love with him. MARIA My purpose is indeed a horse of that color. SIR ANDREW. And your horse now would make him an ass. MARIA

160

and complexion,

his creed

Ass° I doubt not.

represented bygone handwriting plot, trick

(punning on “as”)

SIR ANDREW O, ‘twill be admirable! MARIA Sport royal, I warrant you. | know my physic? will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool

medicine

make a third, where he shall find the letter. Observe

his construction? of it. For this night, to bed, and dream _ interpretation on the event.° Farewell. Exit. outcome sik TOBY Good night, Penthesilea.®

165

SIRANDREW Before me,’ she’s a good wench. sir TOBY She’s a beagle true bred, and one that adores me. What o’ that? SIR ANDREW _ I was adored once, too.

170

sir TOBY Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money. SIR ANDREW

If I cannot recover® your niece, I am a foul

way out.°

sir TOBY

win out of money

Send for money, knight. If thou hast her not i’

th’ end, call me “Cut.”®

175

SIR ANDREW will.

If I do not, never trust me, take it how you

SIR TOBY Come, come, I'll go burn some sack.’ ’Tis too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight. Exeunt.

4. Memorizes dignified and high-flown language and utters it in great sweeps (like hay falling under a scythe).

5. Having the highest opinion of himself. 6. Queen of the Amazons (a joke about Maria’s

small size). 7. On my soul (a mild oath). 8. A dock-tailed

horse;

also, slang term

for a

gelding or for female genitals. 9. I'll go warm and spice some Spanish wine.

TWELFTH

NIGHT

2.4

|

763

2.4

Enter ORSINO, VIOLA, CuRIO, and others. ORSINO Give me some music. Now good morrow,’ friends. Now good Cesario, but® that piece of song, That old and antique® song we heard last night. Methought it did relieve my passion? much, More than light airs and recollected°® terms Of these most brisk and giddy-pacéd times. Come, but one verse. curio He is not here, so please your lordship, that should

morning just quaint suffering studied; artificial

sing it.

ORSINO Who was it? cuRIO_ Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house. ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit CURIO.]

Music plays. [to vioLa] Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,

In the sweet pangs of it remember me, For such as I am, all true lovers are,

20

Unstaid® and skittish in all motions® else Save® in the constant image of the creature That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune? VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is throned.! ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly.® My life upon’t, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stayed upon some favor? that it loves. Hath it not, boy? VIOLA A little, by your favor.°

oRSINO)

30

unstable / emotions except

expertly face leave; face

What kind of woman is’t?

VIOLA Of your complexion. ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i’ faith? vioLA About your years, my lord. oRSINO Too old, by heaven. Let still° the woman take An elder than herself. So wears® she to him; So sways she level? in her husband’s heart.

always adapts

For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

Our fancies°® are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,° Than women’s are. VIOLA

affections exhausted

I think? it well, my lord.

believe

orSINO’ Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.? For women are as roses, whose fair flower,

Being once displayed,° doth fall that very hour. remain

opened

2.4 Location: Orsino’s palace.

3. Cannot

1. I.e., it reflects back to the heart. 2. So does she balance (influence and affection).

ness of a bowstring).

at full stretch (like the taut-

764

40

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

vioLA_ And so they are. Alas, that they are so, To die even® when they to perfection grow!

just

Enter curio and [FEsTE, the| clown. oRSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—

45

50

Mark it, Cesario. It is old and plain; spinners The spinsters® and the knitters in the sun carefree And the free® maids that weave their thread with bones* simple truth Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,° lingers lovingly on And dallies with® the innocence of love i.e., the Golden Age Like the old age.° FESTE Are you ready, sir? ORSINO Ay, prithee, sing. Music FESTE [sings] Come away,° come away, death,

come hither

And in sad cypress? let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,°

yew sprigs

O prepare it. My part of death, no one so true Did share it.°

55

Not a flower, not a flower sweet 60

65

On my black coffin let there be strewn; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save,° Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there. ORSINO [giving money] There’s for thy pains. FESTE

prevent

No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.

oRSINO I'll pay thy pleasure, then. FESTE ‘Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid,° one time or another. ORSINO FESTE

~I vi

Give me now leave’ to leave? thee.

paid for permission / dismiss

Now the melancholy god’ protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta,® for thy mind is a very opal.’ I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything and their intent® everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing.! Farewell. Exit oRSINO Let all the rest give place.°

destination withdraw

[Exeunt all but orsiNo and vioLa.| Once more, Cesario, 4. Bobbins made from bone, used to weave lace (called “bone lace”).

5. Cypress-wood coffin. Like yews, cypresses were emblematic of mourning. 6. Le., no one has died so true to love as I. 7. Saturn (thought to control the melancholic). 8. Shot silk, whose color changes with the angle

of vision. “Doublet”: a close-fitting jacket. 9. An iridescent gemstone that changes color depending on the angle from which it is seen. 1. Le., this fickle lack of direction can

make a

voyage in the notoriously changeful sea carefree and consonant with one’s desires.

TWA ENG

80

Get thee to yond same sovereign® cruelty. Tell her my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands. The parts? that fortune hath bestowed upon her,

Eh

e204

|

765

supreme

possessions

Tell her, I hold as giddily* as fortune. 85

90

100

But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems That nature pranks? her in attracts my soul. vioLA But if she cannot love you, sir— ORSINO_ [| cannot be so answered. VIOLA Sooth,°? but you must. Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her; You tell her so. Must she not then be answered? ORSINO There is no woman's sides Can bide® the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.’ Alas, their love may be called appetite, No motion? of the liver, but the palate,’ That suffer surfeit, cloyment,° and revolt;° But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much. Make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe?® Olivia. VIOLA Ay, but I know— orsINO What dost thou know? VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe. In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man

adorns

in truth

withstand

constancy impulse

satiety / revulsion

have for

As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,

110

I should your lordship. ORSINO And what’s her history? vioLa A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud,

Feed on her damask? cheek. She pined in thought, And with a green and yellow° melancholy She sat like Patience on 115

pale and sallow

a monument,’

Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more, but indeed Our shows are more than will;° for still? we prove

always

Much in our vows but little in our love. oRSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy? 120

vIioLA_

[am all the daughters of my father’s house,

And all the brothers, too—and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady? 2. Lightly (fortune being fickle). 3. Appetite, like the palate, is easily sated and thus lacks the emotional depth and complexity of real love, whose seat is the liver.

4. Pink and white, like a damask rose. 5. A memorial statue symbolizing patience. 6. Our displays of love are greater than actual feelings.

our

766

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

ORSINO Ay, that’s the theme. To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say My love can give no place, bide no denay.’ Exeunt [severally.]

isd

Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN. sin TOBY Come thy ways,’ Signior Fabian. FABIAN Nay, I'll come. If I lose a scruple® of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.' sir TOBY Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly° rascally sheep-biter? come by some notable shame? FABIAN | would exult, man. You know he brought me out o’ favor with my lady about a bearbaiting? here. sir TOBY ‘To anger him, we'll have the bear again, and we will fool® him black and blue, shall we not, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW.

come along

miss a scrap stingy

mock

An° we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter MARIA [with a letter].

sin TOBY Here comes the little villain —How now, my metal of India?* MARIA Get ye all three into the boxtree.° Malvolio’s com- hedge of boxwood ing down this walk. He has been yonder i’ the sun practicing behavior to his own shadow this half hour. Observe him, for the love of mockery, for I know this letter will

make a contemplative® idiot of him. Close,° in the name of jesting! [The men hide.| Lie thou there, [putting down the letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. Exit.

vacuous / hide

Enter MALVOLIO.

MALVOLIO "Tis but fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she® did affect? me, and I have heard herself come thus near, that should she fancy,’ it should be one of my 25

complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her. What should I think on’t? siR TOBY

30

Olivia / care for fall in love

Here's an overweening® rogue.

FABIAN QO, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkeycock® of him. How he jets® under his advanced® plumes! SIR ANDREW ’Slight,’ I could so beat the rogue! SIR TOBY Peace, I say. MALVOLIO To be Count Malvolio! sirR TOBY Ah, rogue! 7. My love cannot be bated, nor tolerate refusal. 2.5 Location: Olivia’s garden. 1. Melancholy was a cold humor. “Boiled” puns on “bile,” the surplus of which produced melancholy. 2. Literally, a dog that attacks sheep; here, a malicious sneak. 3. Puritans disapproved of blood sports like

presumptuous

struts / raised

bearbaiting. 4. A woman worth her weight in gold. 5. Flattery; trout can supposedly be caught by stroking them under the gills. 6. Proverbially proud; they display their feathers like peacocks. 7. By God’s light (an oath).

WABITa eNi Gil is 25.5

40

SIR ANDREW Pistol® him, pistol him! SIR TOBY Peace, peace! MALVOLIO There is example® for't. The Lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.’ SIR ANDREW Fie on him, Jezebel!? FABIANO, peace, now he’s deeply in. Look how imagination blows him.° MALVOLIO Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state°— sik TOBY O, for a stone-bow,! to hit him in the eye!

45

50

wn vt

60

MALVOLIO Calling my officers about me, in my branched? velvet gown, having come from a daybed,° where I have left Olivia sleeping— sik TOBY Fire and brimstone! FABIANO,

peace, peace!

MALVOLIO.

And

then to have the humor

|

767

shoot

precedent

puffs him up chair of state

couch

of state;? and

after a demure travel of regard,‘ telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby— sik TOBY Bolts and shackles! FABIANO, peace, peace, peace! Now, now. MALVOLIO Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make® out for him. I frown the while, and perchance wind

go

up my watch, or play with my’—some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies° there to me— sir TOBY Shall this fellow live?

bows

FABIAN

‘Though our silence be drawn from us with cars,°

yet peace.

65

MALVOLIO [| extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard° of control— sik TOBY And does not Toby take® you a blow o’ the lips then? MALVOLIO Saying “Cousin Toby, my fortunes, having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech”— str TOBY

MALVOLIO SIR TOBY

75

look give

What, what?

“You must amend your drunkenness.” Out, scab!

FABIAN Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. MALVOLIO “Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight”— SIR ANDREW That’s me, I warrant you. MALVOLIO. “One Sir Andrew.” 8. Perhaps an allusion to a noblewoman who had married her manservant, but there is no certain identification. “Yeoman of the wardrobe”: keeper of clothes and linen. 9. Biblical allusion to the proud wife of Ahab, king of Israel. 1. Catapult, or crossbow for stones. 2. Embroidered with branch patterns. “Offi-

3. To adopt the grand air of exalted greatness. 4. After casting my eyes gravely about the room. 5. Evidently touching his steward’s chain. Malvolio momentarily forgets that he will have abandoned his chain. “My watch”: watches were an expensive luxury at this time. 6. A prisoner might be tied to two carts or chariots (“cars”) and pulled by horses in opposite direc-

cers”: household attendants.

tions to extort information.

768

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

SIR ANDREW MALVOLIO

80

I knew ‘twas I, for many do call me fool. [seeing the letter] What employment® have we

business

here? FABIAN Now is the woodcock near the gin.’ siR TOBY O, peace, and the spirit of humors intimate® reading aloud to him. MALVOLIO [taking up the letter] By my life, this is my lady’s hand. These be her very c’s, her w’s, and her ¢’s,’ and thus

85

makes she her great P’s. It is in contempt of° question her hand. SIR ANDREW. Her c’s, her w’s, and her t’s? Why that? MALVOLIO [reads]

90

oS

beyond

“To the unknown beloved, this, and my

good wishes.’—Her very phrases! By your leave, wax.! Soft.° And the impressure her Lucrece,* with which she uses to seal°—'tis my lady! [He opens the letter.| To whom should this be? FABIAN This wins him, liver?’ and all. MALVOLIO [reads] “Jove knows | love, But who? Lips, do not move; No man must know.” “No man must know.” What follows? The numbers altered.°

wait

habitually seals

meter changed

“No man must know.” If this should be thee, Malvolio!

siR TOBY 100

105

110

115

Marry, hang thee, brock!*

MALVOLIO [reads]

“I may command where | adore, But silence, like a Lucrece knife,’

With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.” FABIAN A fustian® riddle! sir TOBY Excellent wench, say I. MALVOLIO “M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.” Nay, but first let me see, let me see, let me see. FABIAN What dish o’ poison has she dressed® him! sir TOBY And with what wing the staniel checks at it!® MALVOLIO. “I may command where I adore.” Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity.’ There is no obstruction in this. And the end—what should that alphabetical position® portend? If |could make that resemble something

bombastic

prepared

arrangement

in me! Softly! “M.O.A.1.”— siR TOBY

O, ay,® make up that.—He is now at a cold scent.

7. Snare. The woodcock is a proverbially foolish bird.

8. And may a capricious impulse suggest. 9. Malvolio unwittingly spells out “cut,” slang

for female genitals; the meaning is compounded by “great P’s.” In fact, these letters do not appear on the outside of the letter. 1. He addresses himself to the sealing wax. 2. The figure of Lucrece, Roman model of chastity, is the device (“impressure”) imprinted on the

seal. 3. Thought of as the seat of love. 4. Badger (proverbially stinking). 5. After being raped, Lucretia stabbed herself to death. 6. And with what alacrity the sparrow hawk goes after it. 7. Normal intelligence. 8. Playing on “O.1.”

TWEET

125

130

HENGE

FABIAN Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though® it be as rank as a fox.” MALVOLIO “M’—Malvolio. “M’—why, that begins my name! FABIAN Did not I say he would work it out? The cur is excellent at faults.! MALVOLIO. “M.” But then there is no consonancy in the sequel.* That suffers under probation.’ “A” should follow, but “O” does. FABIAN And “OQ” shall end, I hope. sIR TOBY Ay, or I'll cudgel him and make him cry “O.” MALVOLIO. And then “I” comes behind. FABIAN Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction® at your heels than fortunes before you.

225

|

HE)

as though

defamation

MALVOLIO “M.O.A.I.” This simulation® is not as the former, disguise; riddle and yet to crush® this a little, it would bow® to me, for force /yield; point

every one of these letters are in my name. Soft, here fol135

140

lows prose. [He reads.] “If this fall into thy hand, revolve.°

consider

In my stars° I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ‘em. Thy fates open their hands.° Let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure® thyself to what thou art like° to be, cast thy humble slough’ and appear fresh. Be opposite® with a kinsman, surly with servants. Let thy tongue tang arguments of state.° Put thyself into the trick of singularity.’ She thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered.* I say, remember. Go to,’ thou art made, if

fortunes

bestow gifts accustom / likely contrary

thou desirest to be so. If not, let me see thee a steward still,

150

the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services! with thee. The Fortunate-Unhappy.” Daylight and champaign discovers? not more! This is open.? I will be proud, I will read politic? authors, I will baffle? Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance,* | will be point-device the very man.’ I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade° me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow

9. “Sowter” (the name of a hound), having lost the scent, will start to bay loudly as he picks up the new, rank (stinking) smell of the fox. 1. At picking up a scent after it is momentarily lost. A “fault” is a “cold scent” (line 116).

2. There is no consistency in what follows. 3. That weakens upon being put to the test. 4. As in the hangman’s noose; the last letter of Malvolio’s name; or “O” as a lamentation. 5. Asnake’s old skin, which peels away. 6. Let your tongue ring out arguments

craft or politics. 7. Cultivate eccentricity.

of state-

clear / political

trick

8. An antiquated way of adjusting a garter— going once below the knee, crossing behind it, and knotting above the knee at the side. 9. An emphatic expression, like “I tell you.” 1. Change places (of servant and mistress or master), 2. Open countryside reveals.

3. Term used to describe the formal unmaking of a knight; hence “disgrace.” 4. Cease knowing persons of humble station. 5. I will be in every detail the identical man (described in the letter).

ThO

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

stockings of late, she did praise my leg being crossgartered, and in this she manifests herself to my love and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits® of her 160

165

liking. I thank my stars, | am happy. I will be strange,° stout,° in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript. [He reads.| “Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest° my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still° smile, dear my sweet, I

clothes

aloof proud

accept

constantly

prithee.” Jove, | thank thee. I will smile, I will do every-

170

thing that thou wilt have me. Exit. FABIAN | will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.° sir TOBY I could marry this wench for this device. SIR ANDREW.

shah of Persia

So could I, too.

sik TOBY And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest. SIR ANDREW Nor I neither. Enter MARIA.

FABIAN Here comes my noble gull-catcher.° sir TOBY Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck? SIR ANDREW. Or 0’ mine either? sik TOBY Shall I play° my freedom at tray-trip® and become thy bondslave? 180

190

195

SIR ANDREW

wager

I’ faith, or I either?

sik TOBY Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when the image? of it leaves him he must run mad. MARIA Nay, but say true, does it work upon him? sir TOBY Like aqua vitae® with a midwife. MARIA If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady. He will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a color she abhors, and crossgartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt.’ If you will see it, follow me. sir TOBY ‘To the gates of Tartar,? thou most excellent devil of wit! SIR ANDREW

trickster

I'll make one,° too.

6. A game of dice in which the winner throws a three (“tray” is from the Spanish tres).

Exeunt.

7. A notorious object of contempt.

illusion

spirits, liquor

hell

go along

TVAie eN Gitte

eo

|

TA

Enter vio. and [FEsTE, the] clown |,with pipe and tabor].!

VIOLA Save® thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by? thy tabor? FESTE VIOLA FESTE

God save

No, sir, I live by® the church. Art thou a churchman?

near

No such matter, sir. I do live by the church, for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

20

VIOLA So thou mayst say the king lies by’ a beggar if a beggar dwell near him, or the church stands° by thy tabor if thy tabor stand by the church. FESTE You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence® is but a chev’ril® glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! vIOLA Nay, that’s certain. They that dally nicely° with words may quickly make them wanton.* FESTE I would therefore my sister had had no name, sir. VIOLA. Why, man? FESTE Why, sir, her name’s a word, and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But, indeed, words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.’ vIoLA

i) wa

30

is maintained

saying kidskin

play subtly

Thy reason, man?

FESTE ‘roth, sir, | can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them. VIOLA I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing. Not so, sir. I do care for something. But in my conFESTE science, sir, | do not care for you. If that be to care for nothing, sir, | would? it would make you invisible. vioLA_ Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool? No indeed, sir. The Lady Olivia has no folly. She FESTE will keep no fool, sir, till she be married, and fools are as like husbands as pilchards® are to herrings: the husband’s the bigger. I am indeed not her fool but her corrupter of

wish

words.

35

VIOLA

I saw thee late® at the Count Orsino’s.

lately

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb’ like the sun; it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress.* I think I saw your wisdom’ there.

FESTE

40

3.1 Location: Olivia's garden. 1. The dialogue demands only a tabor, but jesters commonly played a pipe with one hand while tapping a tabor (small drum, hanging from the

honor. (“Bonds” plays on “sworn statements” and “fetters,” betokening criminality.)

neck) with the other.

6. Small fish similar to herring. 7. World; the sun was still believed to circle the earth.

2. 3. 4. 5.

called “fool” as often as Olivia. 9. A mocking title for Cesario.

Do you earn your keep with? Lives near; punning on “goes to bed with.” Equivocal: Viola puns on the sense “unchaste.” Since legal contracts replaced a man’s word of

8. Unless (“but”) Feste should visit his foolery upon

others, but also unless Orsino

should

be

772 vioLA

45

50

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Nay, an thou pass upon! me, I’ll° no more with thee.

Hold, there’s expenses for thee. [giving a coin] FESTE Now Jove in his next commodity? of hair send thee a beard! vioLA By my troth I’ll tell thee, I am almost sick for one,” [aside] though I would not have it grow on my chin.—Is thy lady within? FESTE Would not a pair of these have bred,? sir? VIOLA Yes, being kept together and put to use.* FESTE I would play Lord Pandarus? of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. vIioLA I understand you, sir. "Tis well begged. [giving

I'll engage

shipment

another coin] 55

FESTE The matter I hope is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar.® My lady is within, sir. I will conster° to them whence you come. Who you are and what you would are out of my welkin—I might say “element,” but the word is overworn.’

60

65

Exit.

vIOLA_ This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, And to do that well craves° a kind of wit.° He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality® of persons, and the time,° And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.® This is a practice® As full of labor as a wise man’s art,

character; rank / occasion

For folly that he wisely shows is fit,? But wise men, folly-fall’n,° quite taint! their wit. Enter sin TOBY and SIR ANDREW. SIR TOBY Save you,” gentleman.

fallen into folly

vioLA 70

explain

requires / intelligence

skill

And you, sir.

SIR ANDREW.

Dieu vous garde, monsieur.?

VIOLA Et vous aussi. Votre serviteur!* SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.

sir ToBy Will you encounter’ the house? My niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. 75

vioLA_

Iam bound to® your niece, sir; | mean, she is the

list° of my voyage. sik TOBY ‘Taste® your legs, sir; put them to motion.

1. If you express an opinion of; if you joke about. 2. Almost eager for a beard; almost pining for a man (Orsino).

3. Would not a pair of coins such as these have multiplied (with possible pun on “be enough to buy bread”). 4. Invested to produce interest. 5. Go-between or “pander,” because Feste needs

a “mate” for his coin(s). Shakespeare dramatizes the story in Troilus and Cressida. 6. In asking for the “mate” to his Troilus coin, Feste draws on a version of the story of Troilus and Cressida in which Cressida became a leprous beggar.

for destination try

7. “Welkin” (sky or air) is synonymous with one meaning of “element,” used in what Feste regards as the overworn phrase “out of my element.” 8. L.e., as a wild hawk (“haggard”) must be sensitive to its prey’s disposition. 9. For folly that he skillfully displays is proper. 1. Discredit; spoil. 2. I.e., God save you. 3. God protect you, sir (French). 4. And you also, (Iam) your servant. (Sir Andrew’s

awkward reply demonstrates that his French is limited.) 5. Pedantry for “enter” (Sir Toby mocks Viola's courtly language).

TW

VIOLA

EER

RA

eNIGH Ti Sl

My legs do better understand° me, sir, than I under-

|

773

stand under

stand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. 80

SIR TOBY

I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

VIOLA | will answer you with gait and entrance. Enter oxivia, and [Maria, her] gentlewoman.

But we are prevented.° Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odors on you! 85

SIR ANDREW [to siR ToBy| “Rain odors,” well.°

vioLA

anticipated

That youth’s a rare° courtier.

an excellent well put

My matter hath no voice,° lady, but to your own must not be spoken

most pregnant® and vouchsafed? ear.

receptive / proffered

SIR 90

ANDREW [to siIR ToBy] “Odors,” “pregnant,” and “vouchsafed.” I'll get ’em all three all ready.° OLiviA Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

[Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA.|

Give me your hand, sir. vioLA My duty, madam, and most humble service. oLivia What is your name? 95

100

VIOLA

OLIVIA.

105

110

Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.

OLIVIA My servant, sir? "Twas never merry world’ Since lowly feigning® was called compliment. You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth. vioLA_ And he is yours, and his must needs be yours. Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.

pretended humility

For® him, I think not on him. For his thoughts,

Would they were blanks rather than filled with me. vIOLA Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf. OLIVIA O, by your leave,® I pray you. I bade you never speak again of him; But would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres.’ VIOLA Dear lady— OLIVIA Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse® Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you.”

as for

deceive; dishonor and, as I fear, you

Under your hard construction! must I sit, To force® that on you in a shameful cunning 115

Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? Have you not set mine honor at the stake, And baited it with all th’ unmuzzled thoughts? That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving? 6. l.e., to commit to memory for later use.

for forcing

_ perception

ears.

7. The proverbial “Things have never been the

1. Your unfavorable interpretation (of my behav-

same.”

ior).

8. Permit me to interrupt (polite expression). 9. Exquisite music thought to be made by the planets as they moved, but inaudible to mortal

2. As bears that were tied up at the stake and baited with dogs.

774

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Enough is shown. A cypress,’ not a bosom, Hides my heart. So let me hear you speak. VIOLA

I pity you.

That’s a degree to® love. step vioLA_ No, not a grize,° for ’tis a vulgar proof? That very oft we pity enemies. ottviA Why then methinks ’tis time to smile again.* O world, how apt? the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf.’

toward

OLIVIA

/ common

experience

ready

Clock strikes.

130

135

140

The clock upbraids° me with the waste of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you. And yet when wit and youth is come to harvest, Your wife is like to reap a proper? man. There lies your way, due west. VIOLA Then westward ho! Grace and good disposition® attend your ladyship. You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? oLiviA_ Stay. I prithee, tell me what thou’ think’st of me. vioLA That you do think you are not what you are.® OLIVIA If Ithink so, I think the same of you.’ VIOLA Then think you right. | am not what I am. OLIVIA I would you were as I would have you be. VIOLA

reproaches

handsome; worthy

peace of mind

Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.! OLIVIA [aside]

145

O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip! A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is noon.2— Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

150

By maidhood, honor, truth, and everything, I love thee so, that, maugre?® all thy pride, Nor® wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that° I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;3 But rather reason thus with reason fetter:4

despite neither that because

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. VIOLA By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 155

I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,

3. Veil of transparent silken gauze; the cypress tree was also emblematic of mourning. 4. Time to discard love’s melancholy. 5. Le., if Ihad to fall prey to love, it would have

been better to succumb to the noble Orsino than to the hardhearted Cesario. 6. Thames watermen’s cry to attract London passengers for the court at Westminster.

7. Olivia changes from “you” to the familiar “thou.” 8. That you think you are in love with a man, but you are mistaken.

9. Olivia may think that Cesario has suggested that she is mad; or she may mean to imply that she thinks that Cesario, despite his subordinate position, is noble. 1. You have made a fool of me. 2. Love, though attempting secrecy, still shines out as bright as day. 3. Do not take the position that just because | woo you, you are under no obligation to reciprocate.

4. But instead constrain your reasoning with this argument.

TWELFTH

UNKGHT

1342

|

TES

And that no woman has, nor never none Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.

160

And so adieu, good madam. Nevermore Will I my master’s tears to you deplore.° OLIVIA Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. Exeunt [severally].

lament

Sid

Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN. SIR ANDREW _ No, faith, Ill not stay a jot longer. siR TOBY Thy reason, dear venom,’ give thy reason. FABIAN You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

venomous

one

SIR ANDREW Marry, I saw your niece do more favors to the Count’s servingman than ever she bestowed upon me.

I saw't i’ th’ orchard.° siR TOBY Did she see thee the while,’ old boy? Tell me that. SIR ANDREW As plain as I see you now. FABIAN This was a great argument? of love in her toward you. SIR ANDREW __ ’Slight,° will you make an ass o’ me? FABIAN I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. sir TOBY And they have been grand-jurymen! since before Noah was a sailor. FABIAN She did show favor to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse® valor, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should

garden meanwhile

proof by God's light

meek, timid

then have accosted her, and with some excellent jests, 20

25

30

fire-new from the mint,’ you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked.° The double gilt* of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady’s opinion,’ where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s* beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valor or policy.° SIR ANDREW An’t® be any way, it must be with valor, for policy I hate. I had as lief° be a Brownist as a politician.’ siR TOBY Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valor. Challenge me® the Count’s youth to fight with him. Hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it, and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man’s commendation with woman than report of valor.

3.2 Location: Olivia’s house. 1. Grand-jurymen were supposed to be good judges of evidence. 2. Twice gilded and, as such, Sir Andrew’s “golden opportunity” to prove both love and valor.

newly minted

neglected

cunning

if it as soon

for me

3, Into Olivia's cold disfavor. 4. Perhaps an allusion to William Barentz, who led an expedition to the Arctic in 1596-97. 5. Schemer. A Brownist was a member of the Puritan sect founded in 1581 by Robert Browne.

776

35

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

FABIAN There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? sIR TOBY

Go, write it in a martial hand. Be curst® and brief.

sharp

It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention.® Taunt him with the license of ink.’ If thou 40

“thou’st”® him some thrice, it shall not be amiss, and as

many lies? as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware! in England, set ‘em down. Go, about it. Let there be gall? enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen,’ no matter. 45

About it. SIR ANDREW Where shall I find you? stR TOBY We'll call thee at the cubiculo.° Go.

little chamber

Exit SIR ANDREW.

FABIAN str TOBY 50

55

This is a dear manikin® to you, Sir Toby. [| have been dear® to him, lad, some two thousand

puppet

costly

strong, or so.

FABIAN We shall have a rare letter from him. But you'll not deliver’t? sik TOBY Never trust me, then. And by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes* cannot hale® them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver? as will clog® the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of th’ anatomy.° FABIAN And his opposite,° the youth, bears in his visage no great presage® of cruelty.

drag weigh down cadaver adversary indication

Enter MARIA. 60

65

sir TOBY Look where the youngest wren of nine® comes. MARIA Ifyou desire the spleen,’ and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me. Yond gull® Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado;’ for there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness.® He’s in yellow stockings. sink TOBY And cross-gartered? MARIA Most villainously,° like a pedant? that keeps a school i’ th’ church.' I have dogged him like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies. 6. Imagination; untruth. 7. Le., with the freedom taken in writing but not risked in conversation. 8. Call him “thou” (an insult, to a stranger). 9. Accusations of lying. 1. Famous Elizabethan bedstead, nearly eleven feet square, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

2. (1) Oak gall, an ingredient in ink; (2) bitter-

ness or rancor. 3. Quill made of a goose feather. (The goose was proverbially cowardly and foolish.) 4. Wagon ropes pulled by oxen.

a laughing fit dupe

abominably

5. Supposed to be the source of blood, which engendered courage. 6. The smallest of small birds; the smallest wren

in a family of nine. 7. Renegade (Spanish); a Christian converted to Islam.

8. Such patent absurdities (in the letter). 9. Teacher. 1. Because no schoolroom is available in a small rustic community.

2. Possibly refers to a map published in 1599 showing the East Indies more fully than in earlier maps and crisscrossed by many rhumb lines.

VBE ED

is

aN VGH

23S

|

(OE

You have not seen such a thing as ‘tis. |can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him. If she do, he’ll smile and take’t for a great favor. sIR TOBY Come, bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt. 33

Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO.

SEBASTIAN I would not by my will have troubled you, But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you. ANTONIO I could not stay behind you. My desire, More sharp than filéd steel, did spur me forth; And not all° love to see you—though so much As might have drawn one to a longer voyage— But jealousy°® what might befall your travel, Being skill-less in° these parts, which to a stranger, Unguided and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable. My willing love, The rather° by these arguments of fear, Set forth in your pursuit. SEBASTIAN My kind Antonio,

only apprehension unfamiliar to

more willingly

I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks, and ever oft°® good turns very often Are shuffled off° with such uncurrent! pay. shrugged off But were my worth,’ as is my conscience,’ firm, wealth / sense of indebtedness

20

You should find better dealing. What’s to do? Shall we go see the relics® of this town? ANTONIO ‘Tomorrow, sir. Best first go see your lodging. SEBASTIAN I am not weary, and 'tis long to night. I pray you let us satisfy our eyes With the memorials and the things of fame That do renown this city. ANTONIO Would you'd pardon me. I do not without danger walk these streets. Once in a sea fight ’gainst the Count his° galleys

sights

i.e., the Count’s

I did some service, of such note indeed That were I ta’en® here it would scarce be answered.”

30

captured SEBASTIAN Belike® you slew great number of his people? perhaps ANTONIO Th’ offense is not of such a bloody nature, Albeit® the quality° of the time and quarrel although / circumstances Might well have given us bloody argument.° cause for bloodshed It might have since been answered in repaying What we took from them, which, for traffic’s® sake,

35

Most of our city did. Only myself stood out,° For which if I be latchéd? in this place,

trade's

i.e., made no reparation caught

I shall pay dear.

3.3 Location: A street scene. 1. Out of currency; worthless.

2. It would be difficult for me to make reparation (and thus my life would be in danger).

HRS

40

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

SEBASTIAN Do not then walk too open. ANTONIO It doth not fit me.° Hold, sir, here’s my purse. In the south suburbs at the Elephant°® Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet°® Whiles you beguile® the time and feed your knowledge With viewing of the town. There shall you have me. SEBASTIAN Why I your purse? ANTONIO Haply° your eye shall light upon some toy°® You have desire to purchase, and your store,°

serve me well

name of an inn order our meals pass

perhaps / trifle resources

I think, is not for idle markets,’ sir.

SEBASTIAN I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you For an hour. ANTONIO To th’ Elephant. SEBASTIAN I do remember. Exeunt [severally].

3.4

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. OLIVIA [aside]

I have sent after® him. He says he’ll come.

How shall I feast him? What bestow of? him? For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed.! I speak too loud.— va

on

[to MARIA] Where’s Malvolio? He is sad° and civil®

sober / respectful

And suits well for a servant with my fortunes. Where is Malvolio? MARIA He’s coming, madam, but in very strange manner. He is sure possessed,° madam.

(by the devil); insane

oLiviA Why, what’s the matter? Does he rave? MARIA No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come, for sure the man is tainted in’s wits. ) OLIVIA.

Go call him hither.

[Exit MARIA.| I am as mad as he,

If sad and merry madness equal be. Enter [Maria with] MALvoLio [cross-gartered and

wearing yellow stockings]. How now, Malvolio? MALVOLIO Sweet lady, ho, ho!

20

OLIVIA Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.° MALVOLIO Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does make some obstruction in the blood,’ this cross-gartering, but what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet? is: “Please one, and please all.”? oLiviA Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee? 3. Not large enough to spend on luxuries. 3.4 Location: The garden of Olivia’s house. 1. Alluding to the proverb “Better to buy than to beg or borrow.”

a serious matter

song

2. Restrict circulation. 3. If I please one, I please all I care to please (words of a popular bawdy ballad).

TWEE

Rin

NGH Th s3W4

|

Tag,

MALVOLIO Not black in my mind, though yellow* in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.’ __ italic calligraphy oLiviA Wilt thou go to bed,*> Malvolio? MALVOLIO 30

MARIA 35

40

45

50

[kissing his hand]

To bed?

“Ay, sweetheart,

and I'll come to thee.”® OLIviA God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?’ How do you, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!® MARIA Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady? MALVOLIO “Be not afraid of greatness.” "Twas well writ. oLiviA What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? MALVOLIO. “Some are born great”— OLIVIA Ha? MALVOLIO “Some achieve greatness”— oLivia What sayst thou? MALVOLIO. “And some have greatness thrust upon them.” oLiviA Heaven restore thee! MALVOLIO “Remember who commended thy yellow stockings’ — oLiviA_ Thy yellow stockings? MALVOLIO. “And wished to see thee cross-gartered.” OLIVIA Cross-gartered? MALVOLIO

“Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be

so” — oLivia Am I made? MALVOLIO

“If not, let me see thee a servant still.”

oLiviA 55

Why, this is very midsummer® madness! Enter a SERVANT. SERVANT Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino’s is returned. I could hardly entreat him back. He attends your ladyship’s pleasure.

oLiviA 60

I'll come to him.

the height of

[Exit SERVANT.|

Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where’s my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him. I would not have him miscarry° for the half of my — come to harm dowry. [Exeunt OLIvIA and MARIA, severally, |

MALVOLIO 65

O ho, do you come near°® me now? No worse

appreciate

man than Sir Toby to look to me. This concurs directly with the letter. She sends him on purpose that I may appear stubborn to him, for she incites me to that in the 4. Black and yellow biles indicated choleric and melancholic dispositions, respectively. “Black and yellow” was the name of a popular song; to “wear yellow hose” was to be jealous. 5. l.e., to cure his madness with sleep.

6. Aline from a popular song. 7. L.e., why do you keep blowing me kisses? 8. Shall I deign to reply to you? Yes, because even the nightingale sings in response to the crowing of the jackdaw.

780

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

letter: “Cast thy humble slough,” says she. “Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity,” and consequently° sets down the manner how:

subsequently

as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note,° and so forth. I have limed? her,

gentleman

but it is Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away now, “Let this fellow be looked to.” “Fellow.”! Not “Malvolio,” nor after my degree, but “fel-

80

low.” Why, everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple,” no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance*—what can be said? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

85

Enter sin TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA. sir TOBY Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in little,* and Legion® himself possessed him, yet I’ll speak to him. FABIAN Here he is, here he is.—How is’t with you, sir? How is’t with you, man? MALVOLIO. Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private.° Go off. MARIA

90

[to sir TOBY]

the fiend speaks

resonantly

within him! Did not | tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. MALVOLIO

100

Lo, how hollow®

privacy

Aha, does she so?

SIR TOBY Go to, go to! Peace, peace. We must deal gently with him. Let me alone.-—How do you, Malvolio? How ist with you? What, man, defy° the devil! Consider, he’s an enemy to mankind. MALVOLIO Do you know what you say? MARIA La® you, an° you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched! FABIAN Carry his water to th’ wise woman.° MARIA Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say. MALVOLIO

MARIA

leave him to me

renounce

look /if

How now, mistress?

O Lord!

sir TOBY Prithee, hold thy peace. This is not the way. Do you not see you move® him? Let me alone with him. FABIAN No way but gentleness, gently, gently. The fiend is rough® and will not be roughly used. 9. Birds were caught by smearing sticky birdlime on branches. 1. Malvolio takes the word to mean “companion.” 2. Both phrases mean “no scrap of a doubt.” “Dram”: one-eighth of a fluid ounce. “Scruple”: one-third of a dram. 3. Dubious or unreliable indication. 4. Be contracted into a small space (punning on

anger violent

“painted in miniature”). 5. Alluding to a scene of exorcism in Mark 5.8— 9: “For he [Jesus] said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit. And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered saying, My name is Legion: for we are many.” 6. Local healer, “good witch.” “Water”: urine (for medical diagnosis).

WER

Ra

eN hGH th 34

us.

sir TOBY Why, how now, my bawcock?’ How dost thou, chuck?® MALVOLIO _ Sir! sir TOBY Ay, biddy,° come with me.—What, man, ’tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit? with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!! MARIA Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby; get him

120

MALVOLIO’ My prayers, minx?°® MARIA _ No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. MALVOLIO. Go hang yourselves all! You are idle,° shallow things. I am not of your element.° You shall know more

110

I

7Aes3i

hen

to pray.

125

130

hereafter. Exit. sir TOBY Is’t possible? FABIAN _ If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. SIR TOBY His very genius® hath taken the infection of the device,° man. MARIA Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.’ FABIAN Why, we shall make him mad indeed. MARIA The house will be the quieter. SIR TOBY

135

impertinent girl

foolish social sphere

spirit trick

Come, we’ll have him in a dark room and bound.

My niece is already in the belief that he’s mad. We may carry it thus,* for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him, at which time we will bring the device to the bar? and crown thee for a finder of madmen.° But see, but see! Enter SIR ANDREW.

140.

FABIAN More matter for a May morning.’ SIR ANDREW [presenting a paper| Here’s the challenge. Read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t. FABIAN _ Is’t so saucy? SIR ANDREW _ Ay, is’t? I warrant him. Do but read. sir ToBY

Give me. [He reads.| “Youth, whatsoever thou art,

thou art but a scurvy fellow.” 145

FABIAN Good, and valiant. SIR TOBY, “Wonder not, nor admire® not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for'’t.”

marvel

FABIAN A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the law.®

7. Fine fellow (from the French beau coq, “fine

become known (and thus ruined).

bird”). 8. A term of endearment, perhaps from chick, chicken. 9. A children’s game in which cherry stones were thrown into a hole. “For gravity”: i.e., for a man of dignity. 1. Dirty coalman (the devil was supposed to be

3. 4, 5. 6. to 7. 8.

black).

peace.

2. Spoil (like leftover food) by exposure to air;

Customary treatments for madness. Continue the pretense. Into the open court (to be judged). Le., one of a jury “finding,” or declaring, a man be mad. More pastime fit for a holiday. That protects you from a charge of a breach of

782

150

155

160

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

sir TOBY “Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly. But thou liest in thy throat;° that is not the matter I challenge thee for.” FABIAN. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense—

deeply

less.’ sir ToBy “I will waylay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me’— FABIAN Good. sir TOBY “Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.” FABIAN — Still you keep o’ th’ windy side! of the law. Good. stk TOBY “Fare thee well, and God have mercy upon one of our souls. He may have mercy upon mine, but my hope is better,? and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek.”

1665

If this letter move® him not, his legs cannot. I'll give’t him. MARIA You may have very fit occasion for’t. He is now in some commerce® with my lady, and will by and by depart. sik TOBY Go, Sir Andrew. Scout me°® for him at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily.? So soon as ever thou

provoke conversation look out

seest him, draw, and as thou drawest, swear horrible, for

170

175

180

185

it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation® than ever proof? itself would have earned him. Away! SIR ANDREW _ Nay, let me alone for swearing.* Exit. SIR TOBY

credit /trial

Now will not I deliver his letter, for the behavior

of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding;’ his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less. Therefore, this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a clodpoll.° But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valor, and drive the gentleman—as I know his youth will aptly receive it°—into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both that they

blockhead

will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.’

190

Enter OLIVIA and VIOLA FABIAN Here he comes with your niece. Give them way° till he take leave, and presently after him. sir TOBY I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.

stand aside

[Exeunt sin TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA.| 9. The Folio’s “sence-lesse” appears to use the hyphen to signal an aside.

1. Downwind of the law—on the 2. Sir Andrew means he expects he ineptly implies that he expects 3. Petty sheriff's officer employed ors.

safe side of it. to survive, but to be damned. to arrest debt-

4. Have no doubts as to my swearing ability. 5. Upbringing. “Capacity”: ability.

6. As I know his inexperience will readily believe

the report. 7. Basilisks; mythical creatures supposed to kill at a glance.

TWELFTH

195

200

NIGHT 3.4

oLiviA_ I have said too much unto a heart of stone And laid mine honor too unchary° on't. There’s something in me that reproves my fault, But such a headstrong potent fault it is That it but mocks reproof. VIOLA With the same ’havior that your passion bears®

|

783

carelessly

Goes on my master’s griefs. OLiviA Here, wear this jewel? for me. "Tis my picture. Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you. And I beseech you come again tomorrow. What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, That honor, saved, may upon asking give?! vioLA Nothing but this: your true love for my master. OLIvIA How with mine honor may I give him that Which I have given to you? VIOLA I will acquit you.” OLIVIA Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well. A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. Enter [sir] ToBy and FABIAN.

[Exit.]

siR TOBY Gentleman, God save thee. VIOLA And you, sir. 210

stR TOBY That defense thou hast, betake thee to’t. Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not,

but thy intercepter, full of despite,° bloody as the hunter, attends° thee at the orchard end. Dismount thy tuck,* be yare® in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skillful, and deadly. vioLA

You mistake, sir,

1am sure no man hath any quarrel

to me. My remembrance’ is very free and clear from any image of offense done to any man. siR TOBY

defiance awaits prompt memory

You'll find it otherwise, I assure you. Therefore,

if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard, for your opposite® hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath can furnish man withal. vIOLA I pray you, sir, what is he? sir TOBY He is knight dubbed with unhatched? rapier and on carpet consideration,’ but he is a devil in private

opponent

brawl. Souls and bodies hath he divorced three, and his

incensement? at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulcher. “Hob, nob” is his word;° “give’t or take’t.” vioLa_ I will return again into the house and desire some conduct? of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste° their valor. Belike this is a man of that quirk. 8. Behavior that characterizes your lovesickness. 9. Jeweled ornament,

here a brooch or a locket

with Olivia’s picture. 1. That honor may grant without compromising itself. 2. I will release you from your promise.

anger

motto escort test

3. Draw your rapier. 4. Unhacked, or undented, never used in battle.

5. A “carpet knight” obtained his title through connections at court rather than valor on the battlefield. 6. Have or have not (“all or nothing”).

784

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

sir TOBY Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a very competent? injury. Therefore get you on and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that® with me which with as much safety you might answer him. Therefore on, or strip your sword stark naked, for meddle° you must, that’s certain, or forswear

240

245

i.e., a duel

engage in a duel

to wear iron about you.’

vIoLA This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of? the knight what my offense to him is. It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.® sir ToBY I will do so.—Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. Exit. VIOLA Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? FABIAN — I know the knight is incensed against you even to a mortal arbitrement,° but nothing of the circumstance

250

sufficient

ascertain from

deadly duel

more. vioLA I beseech you, what manner of man is he? FABIAN Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form,” as you are like to find him in the proof? of his

experience

valor. He is indeed, sir, the most skillful, bloody, and fatal 255

260

opposite® that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you? walk towards him, I will make your peace with him if I can. vioLA I shall be much bound to you for’t. I am one that had rather go with Sir Priest! than Sir Knight, I care not who knows so much of my mettle.° Exeunt. Enter sin TOBY and SIR ANDREW SIR TOBY

270

N I wi)

opponent if you will

disposition

Why, man, he’s a very devil. I have not seen such

a virago.* I had a pass® with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in* with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable; and on the answer,? he pays you as surely as your feet hits the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.° SIR ANDREW Pox on't! I'll not meddle with him. sik TOBY Ay, but he will not now be pacified. Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. SIR ANDREW Plague on't! An° I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence, I’d have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I’ll give him my horse, gray Capilet. sik TOBY I'll make the motion.° Stand here, make a good show on’t. This shall end without the perdition of souls.° [aside] Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter FABIAN and VIOLA. 7. Or forfeit your right to wear a sword. 8. L.e., any offense I committed was accidental, not deliberate. 9. I.e., from his outward appearance, you cannot perceive him to be as remarkable.

fencing bout return hit

shah of Persia

offer

loss of lives

1. Priests were often addressed as “sir.” 2. Woman warrior (suggesting great ferocity with

a feminine appearance). 3. Thrust (from the Italian stoccata).

TWELFTH

NIGHT

[aside to FABIAN] | have his horse to take up® the quarrel. I have persuaded him the youth’s a devil. FABIAN [aside to sik ToBy] 280

295

|

785

settle

He is as horribly conceited* of

him, and pants and looks pale as if a bear were at his heels. sin ToBy [to vioLA]

290

3.4

There’s no remedy, sir; he will fight

with you for’s oath’ sake. Marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of. Therefore, draw for the supportance of his vow. He protests he will not hurt you. VIOLA [aside] Pray God defend me. A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man. FABIAN [fo SIR ANDREW] Give ground if you see him furious. SIR TOBY Come, Sir Andrew, there’s no remedy. The gentleman will, for his honor’s sake, have one bout with you. He cannot by the duello® avoid it. But he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on, to’t. SIR ANDREW [drawing his sword] Pray God he keep his oath. VIOLA [drawing his sword] | do assure you, ‘tis against my

code of dueling

will. Enter ANTONIO.

ANTONIO [to SIR ANDREW] young gentleman

Put up your sword.

If this

Have done offense, I take the fault on me. 300

If you offend him, I for him defy you. SIR TOBY You, sir? Why, what are you? ANTONIO [drawing his sword]

One, sir, that for his love dares

yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. str TOBY

[drawing his sword]

Nay, if you be an under-

taker,’ I am for you. Enter OFFICERS. 305

FABIANO, good Sir Toby, hold. Here come the officers. sIR TOBY [to ANTONIO]

310

I'll be with you anon.

VIOLA [to SIR ANDREW] Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. SIR ANDREW. Marry, will I, sir. And for that° I promised you, as for that I'll be as good as my word. He? will bear you easily, and __ i.e., the horse reins well. [SIR ANDREW and VIOLA put up their swords.|

FIRST OFFICER SECOND

OFFICER

This is the man. Do thy office. Antonio,

I arrest

thee at the suit of

Count Orsino. 315

ANTONIO You do mistake me, sir. No, sir, no jot. I know your favor® well, FIRST OFFICER

Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.— Take him away. He knows I know him well. 4. He has as terrifying an idea.

5. One who would take upon himself a task (here, a challenge).

face

786

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

ANTONIO I must obey. [to vioLA] This comes with seeking you. But there’s no remedy. I shall answer’ it. What will you do, now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you

answer for

Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed,

But be of comfort. SECOND OFFICER — Come, sir, away.

330

335

ANTONIO [to VIOLA] [| must entreat of you some of that money. vioLA What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have showed me here, And part® being prompted by your present trouble, in part Out of my lean and low ability Pll lend you something. My having is not much. Pll make division of my present® with you. ready money Hold, there’s half my coffer. [offering him money] ANTONIO Will you deny me now? Is’t possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion?® Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound? a man morally weak As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you. VIOLA

340

I know of none,

Nor know I you by voice or any feature. I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption

Inhabits our frail blood— ANTONIO O heavens themselves! SECOND OFFICER Come, sir, I pray you go. ANTONIO Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatched one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity® of love,

great devotion

And to his image,’ which methought did promise Most venerable worth,°® did I devotion. 350

FIRST OFFICER What's that to us? The time goes by. Away! ANTONIO But O, how vile an idol proves this god! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature® shame. In nature there’s no blemish but the mind; None can be called deformed but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks o’er-flourished? by the devil. FIRST OFFICER ‘The man grows mad. Away with him.— Come, come, sir. ANTONIO.

Lead me on.

vioa [aside]

physical beauty

Exit [with OFFICERS].

Methinks his words do from such passion fly

6. Is it possible my past kindness can fail to perated, you? Appearance (with a play on “religious icon”). 8. Was worthy of veneration. 9. Chests decorated with carving or painting;

beautified bodies. s l.e., believes I am Sebastian. l.e., I do not entirely believe the passionate aise (for my brother's rescue) that is arising in me.

TYEE

NG.

74071

|

787

That he believes himself;! so do not I.

360

Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta’en® for you!

mistaken

sin TOBY Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian. We'll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws.°

sayings, maxims

[SIR TOBY, FABIAN, and SIR ANDREW move aside.| 365

vioLtA He named Sebastian. I my brother know Yet living in my glass.° Even such and so In favor® was my brother, and he went Still° in this fashion, color, ornament, For him I imitate. O, if it prove,° Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love! Exit. sin TOBY A very dishonest,° paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare.’ His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his coward-ship, ask Fabian. FABIAN A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. SIR ANDREW _ ’Slid,° I'll after him again and beat him.

sir TOBY

always (true)

dishonorable

by God's eyelid

Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

SIR ANDREW. An I do not— FABIAN Come, let’s see the event.° 380

mirror

appearance

sir TOBY

[Exit.| outcome

I dare lay any money ‘twill be nothing yet.°

after all

Exeunt. 4.1 Enter SEBASTIAN and |FESTE, the] clown.

FESTE Will you° make me believe that I am not sent for your SEBASTIAN

Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow.

Let me be clear® of thee. wi

20

are you trying to

rid

FESTE Well held out,’ i’ faith. No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my lady to bid you come speak with her, nor your name is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. SEBASTIAN _I prithee, vent® thy folly somewhere else. Thou know’st not me. FESTE Vent my folly? He has heard that word of some great man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly? I am afraid this great lubber® the world will prove a cockney.' I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness? and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall I vent to her that thou art coming? SEBASTIAN _I prithee, foolish Greek,°? depart from me. There’s money for thee. If you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise FESTE men that give fools money get themselves a good report°— after fourteen years’ purchase.’ 3. Proverbially cowardly. 4.1 Location: Near Olivia’s house. 1. A pampered child. 2. Le., stop pretending not to know me. (Feste

kept up

utter; excrete

lout

buffoon

reputation

mocks Sebastian's affected language.) 3. Le., at a high price. The purchase price of land was normally twelve times its annual rent.

788

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN.

NO vd

30

SIR ANDREW [to SEBASTIAN] Now, sir, have | met you again? [striking him] There's for you. SEBASTIAN [returning the blow| Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there.—Are all the people mad? sir TOBY Hold, sir, or I’ll throw your dagger o’er the house. FESTE [aside] This will I tell my lady straight.° I would not be in some of your coats for twopence. [Exit.] sir TOBY [seizing Sebastian] Come on, sir, hold! SIR ANDREW _ Nay, let him alone. I'll go another way to work with him. I'll have an action of battery* against him, if there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter for that. SEBASTIAN [to SIR TOBY| Let go thy hand! stR TOBY Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron. You are well fleshed.” Come on.

straightaway

SEBASTIAN _I will be free from thee. [He pulls free and draws his sword.|

40

What wouldst thou now? If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword. sik TOBY What, what? Nay, then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert® blood from you.

impudent

[He draws his sword.| Enter OLIVIA.

oLiviA Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee, hold! siR TOBY Madam. oLiviA Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, 45

Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,

Where manners ne'er were preached! Out of my sight!— Be not offended, dear Cesario.— Rudesby,° be gone!

ruffian

[Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN. |

7 wi

I prithee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent°® Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botched up,° that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go. Do not deny. Beshrew? his soul for me! He started one poor heart of mine, in thee.° SEBASTIAN |aside| stream?

60

What relish® is in this? How runs the

Or° | am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still° my sense in Lethe’ steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! 4. Lawsuit for assault. 5. Experienced in combat. Hunting hounds were said to be “fleshed” after being fed part of their first kill. 6. By attacking Sebastian, Sir Toby frightened

assault

clumsily contrived

curse taste; meaning either

imagination ever

Olivia, who has exchanged hearts with Sebastian. “Started”: an allusion to hunting, creating a pun on “hart/heart.” 7. A mythical river of the underworld, whose waters cause oblivion.

TWELFTH

oLiviA

NIGHT

4.2

|

789

Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou’dst be ruled by me!

SEBASTIAN OLIVIA

Madam, I will. O, say so, and so be!

~—Exeunt.

4.2 Enter MARIA and [FESTE, the] clown.

MARIA Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas! the curate. Do it quickly. I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.° [Exit.] FESTE Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble* myself in’, and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. [He puts on gown and beard.} | am not tall enough to become

the function

well,? nor lean enough

to be

thought a good student,* but to be said° an honest man and a good housekeeper? goes as fairly as* to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors® enter.

10

in the meantime

reputed

host associates

Enter str ToBy [and MarRIA].

sik TOBY Jove bless thee, Master Parson. FESTE Bonos dies,° Sir Toby; for, as the old hermit of Prague,’ that never saw pen and ink, very wittily° said to

intelligently

a niece of King Gorboduc,* “That that is, is,” so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for what is “that” but

“that” and “is” but “is”? sik TOBY

20

To him, Sir Topas.

FESTE [disguising his voice] What ho, I say! Peace in this prison! sir TOBY The knave counterfeits well. A good knave. MALVOLIO within. MALVOLIO Who calls there? FESTE Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic. MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady— FESTE Out, hyperbolical fiend!? How vexest thou this man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies? sIR TOBY [aside]

30

35

Well said, Master Parson.

MALVOLIO Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad. They have laid me here in hideous darkness— Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most FESTE modest° terms, for | am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy. Sayst thou that house® is dark? 4.2

Location:

Olivia's house,

will be found (offstage) bound” (3.4.131).

where

“in a dark

Malvolio room

and

1. The comical hero of Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas. Also alluding to the topaz stone, which was thought to have special curative qualities for insanity. 2. Disguise; with subsequent play on “lie.” 3. Grace the priestly office. “Tall”: stout, rather

mildest

room

than ofgreat height. 4. L.e., a student of divinity. 5. Sounds as well as.

6. Good day (false Latin). 7. Probably an invented authority. 8. Legendary British king. 9, Feste treats Malvolio as a man possessed by vehement (“hyperbolical”) evil spirits.

790

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas. FESTE Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clerestories! toward the south-north are as 40

45

lustrous as ebony;? and yet complainest thou of obstruction? MALVOLIO Iam not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark. FESTE Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.* MALVOLIO I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell. And I say there was never man thus abused. Iam no more mad than you are. Make the trial of it in any constant question.°

60

FESTE What is the opinion of Pythagoras* concerning wildfowl? MALVOLIA That the soul of our grandam might haply°® inhabit a bird. FESTE What thinkest thou of his opinion? MALVOLIO I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion. FESTE Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness. Thou shalt hold th’ opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits,° and fear to kill a woodcock® lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas! sink TOBY My most exquisite Sir Topas! FESTE Nay, I am for all waters.° MARIA Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown. He sees thee not. sir TOBY ‘To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him. I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered,’ I would he were, for I am now so far in offense with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot.° Come by and by to my chamber. FESTE [sings]’

NI vi

logical discussion

perhaps

certify your sanity

set free

conclusion

[Exeunt sin TOBY and MARIA.| “Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,

Tell me how thy lady does.” MALVOLIO Fool! FESTE [sings] “My lady is unkind, perdy.”® MALVOLIO Fool! FESTE “Alas, why is she so?” 1. Upper windows, usually in a church or great hall. “Barricadoes”: barricades (subsequent paradoxes are equivalent to “as clear as mud”). 2. A dense and naturally dull black wood. 3. One of the plagues of Egypt was a “black darkness” lasting for three days (Exodus 10,21—23).

4. The ancient Greek philosopher held that the same soul could successively inhabit different

creatures. 5. A traditionally stupid bird. 6. Lam able to turn my hand to anything. 7. Feste’s song, which makes Malvolio aware of his presence, is traditional. There is a version by Sir Thomas Wyatt.

8. A corruption of the French pardieu, “by God.”

TWELFTH

MALVOLIO

NIGHT

4.2

|

791

Fool, I say!

FESTE

“She loves another’—Who calls, ha?

MALVOLIO Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper. As I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for’t. FESTE Master Malvolio? MALVOLIO 85

FESTE

Ay, good fool.

Alas, sir, how fell you besides® your five wits??

MALVOLIO.

90

95

100

Fool,

there

was

never

man

so_notoriously®

abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. FESTE But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool. MALVOLIO. They have here propertied me,' keep me in darkness, send ministers to me—asses!—and do all they can to face me? out of my wits. FESTE Advise you° what you say. The minister is here. [as Sir Topas] Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. Endeavor thyself to sleep and leave thy vain bibble-babble. MALVOLIO Sir Topas! FESTE [as Sir Topas] Maintain no words with him, good fellow. [as fool] Who, I, sir? Not I, sir. God buy you,’ good Sir Topas. [as Sir Topas] Marry, amen. [asfool] 1 will, sir,

I will. MALVOLIO Fool! Fool! Fool, I say! FESTE Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? | am shent® for speaking to you. MALVOLIO Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee, | am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. FESTE Welladay° that you were, sir! MALVOLIO 110

115

120

out of

outrageously

be careful

God be with you

scolded

alas

By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper,

and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. FESTE I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit? MALVOLIO Believe me, I am not. | tell thee true. Nay, I'll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. FESTE I will fetch you light and paper and ink. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree. I MALVOLIO. prithee, be gone. FESTE [sings]

I am gone, sir, And anon, sir,

I'll be with you again, In a trice, Like to the old Vice,’ 9. Usually regarded as common sense, fantasy, memory, judgment, and imagination. 1. Treated me as a piece of property.

2. Brazenly construe me as. 3. A stock comic figure in the old morality plays; he often carried a wooden dagger.

UDP?

125

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Your need to sustain. Who with dagger of lath, In his rage and his wrath, Cries “aha!” to the devil; Like a mad lad,

130

“Pare thy nails, dad! Adieu, goodman’ devil.”

Exit.

4.3

Enter SEBASTIAN.

vi

SEBASTIAN This is the air; that is the glorious sun. This pearl she gave me, | do feel’t and see’t. And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madness. Where’s Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant. Yet there he was;° and there I found this credit,°

10

So far exceed all instance,° all discourse,°

15

had been / report

That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service. For though my soul disputes well with my sense! That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune precedent / reasoning

That I am ready to distrust mine eyes And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust® but that | am mad— Or else the lady’s mad. Yet if ’twere so,

belief

She could not sway° her house, command her followers,

rule

Take and give back affairs and their dispatch? With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing

20

i) wr

30

As I perceive she does. There’s something in’t That is deceivable.° But here the lady comes. Enter OLIVIA and PRIEST. OLIVIA Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man Into the chantry by.° There, before him

deceptive

nearby chapel

And underneath that consecrated roof,

Plight me the full assurance of your faith,* That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles® you are willing it shall come to note,° What? time we will our celebration keep According to my birth.° What do you say? SEBASTIAN I'll follow this good man and go with you And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

4. Yeoman; a title given

to one

not

of gentle

birth, hence a parting insult to Malvolio. 4.3 Location: Near Olivia’s house. 1. For though my reason and my sense

both

until / be made public at which rank

concur,

2. Undertake business, and ensure that it is carried out. 3. Enter into the solemn contract of betrothal.

TWEEWH

NVQ

(P28)

Se

oLiviA Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine That they may fairly note? this act of mine. Exeunt. ayy| FABIAN

Enter |FESTE, the| clown and FABIAN. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

FESTE Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. FABIAN Anything. FESTE Do not desire to see this letter. FABIAN This is to give a dog and in recompense desire my dog again.! Enter ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and lords.

ORSINO FESTE

Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.°

ornaments

I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? FESTE ‘Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends. ORSINO Just the contrary: the better for thy friends.

ORSINO

FESTE ORSINO FESTE

No, sir, the worse. How can that be?

Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused.° So that, conclusions to be as kisses,

20

25

30

if your four negatives make your two affirmatives,* why then the worse for my friends and the better for my foes. oRSINO Why, this is excellent. FESTE By my troth, sir, no—though it please you to be one of my friends. ORSINO [giving a coin| Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there’s gold. FESTE But? that it would be double-dealing,’ sir, | would you could make it another. ORSINO O, you give me ill counsel. Put your grace in your pocket,’ sir, for this once, FESTE and let your flesh and blood obey it.’ ORSINO

except for the fact

Well, I will be so much a sinner to° be a double-

dealer. [giving a coin] There’s another. Primo, secundo, tertio® is a good play,’ and the old FESTE saying is, the third pays for all.’ The triplex,° sir, is a 4. Look favorably upon. 5.1 Location: Before Olivia’s house. 1. Perhaps a reference to an anecdote, recorded in John Manningham’s diary, in which Queen Elizabeth requested a dog, and the donor, when granted a wish in return, asked for the dog back. 2. As in grammar a double negative can make an

affirmative

deceived

(and therefore

four negatives

can

make two affirmatives), so when a coy girl is asked for a kiss, her four refusals can be construed as “yes, yes.”

as to

game triple time (music)

3. (1) A duplicity; (2) a double donation. 4. Set aside (pocket up) your virtue; also (with a play on the customary form of address for a duke, “your grace”), reach into your pocket and grace me with another coin. 5. Let your normal human instincts (as opposed to grace) follow the “ill counsel” (line 28). 6. First, second, third (Latin); perhaps an allu-

sion to a dice throw or a child’s game. 7. Third time lucky (proverbial).

794

35

40

45

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

good tripping measure, or the bells of Saint Bennet,’ sir, may put you in mind—one, two, three. oRSINO You can fool no more money out of me at this throw.° If you will let your lady know I am here to speak throw of the dice with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty°® further. FESTE Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness. But, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap. I will awake it anon. Exit. Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS. VIOLA

oRSINO

generosity

Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

That face of his | do remember well.

Yet when I saw it last, it was besmeared

As black as Vulcan’ in the smoke of war. A baubling® vessel was he captain of, trifling For shallow draft and bulk unprizable,! With which such scatheful° grapple did he make destructive With the most noble bottom? of our fleet ship That very envy° and the tongue of loss° even enmity / the losers Cried fame and honor on him.—What'’s the matter? FIRST OFFICER

60

Orsino, this is that Antonio

That took the Phoenix and her freight from Candy,? And this is he that did the Tiger board When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,’ In private brabble°® did we apprehend him. vioLA

brawl

He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side,*

But in conclusion put strange speech upon? me. I know not what ’twas but distraction.° oRSINO Notable® pirate, thou salt-water thief, What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,’ Hast made thine enemies? ANTONIO Orsino, noble sir,

spoke strangely to ifnot insanity notorious dire

Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me. Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though, I confess, on base® and ground enough,

Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither. That most ingrateful boy there by your side From the rude sea’s enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wrack°® past hope he was. His life I gave him and did thereto add My love, without retention® or restraint,

8. A London church, across the Thames from the Globe theater, was known as Saint Bennet Hithe. 9. Blacksmith god of the Romans. 1. Of no value because of its small size. “Draft”: water displaced by a vessel.

foundation

castaway reservation

2. Candia, capital of Crete. 3. Recklessly oblivious of the danger to his honor and his position (as a free man and public enemy). 4. Drew his sword in my defense.

TWELFTH

80

85

NIGHT

5.1

All his in dedication. For his sake Did I expose myself, pure® for his love, Into the danger of this adverse® town; Drew to defend him when he was beset; Where, being apprehended, his false cunning— Not meaning to partake with me in danger— Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance’ And grew a twenty years’ removed thing While one would wink;® denied me mine own purse,

ORSINO [to Antonio|

95

i 2)i3)

only hostile

Which I had recommended? to his use Not half an hour before. vioLA How can this be? 90

|

consigned

When came he to this town?

ANTONIO Today, my lord; and for three months before, No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy,° Both day and night did we keep company. Enter outvia and attendants. ORSINO Here comes the Countess. Now heaven walks on earth!— But for thee, fellow: fellow, thy words are madness. Three months this youth hath tended upon me—

interval

But more of that anon. [to an OFFICER] Take him aside.

100

105

oLtviA What would my lord, but that he may not have,’ Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?— Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. vioLtA Madam? orSINO. Gracious Olivia— oLiviA What do you say, Cesario?—Good my lord— vioLA My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. oLivia If it be aught® to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome® to mine ear As howling after music.

orSINO oLiviA orRsINO. 110

115

anything gross and offensive

Still so cruel? Still so constant, lord. What, to perverseness? You, uncivil lady,

ungrateful / unfavorable To whose ingrate® and unauspicious? altars My soul the faithful’st off'rings hath breathed out That e’er devotion tendered—what shall I do? for be fitting Even what it please my lord that shall become® him. otiviA it, do to heart the I had not, [ orsINO. Why should Like to th’ Egyptian thief at point of death, Kill what I love?®—a savage jealousy of nobility That sometime savors nobly.° But hear me this: oblivion Since you to non-regardance?® cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument

5. To brazenly deny my acquaintance. 6. Le., in the wink of an eye, pretended we had been estranged for twenty years. 7. Except that which he may not have (my love). 8. In Heliodorus’s Ethiopica, a Greek prose

romance translated into English in 1569 and popular in Shakespeare’s day, the Egyptian robber chief Thyamis tries to kill his captive Chariclea, whom he loves, when he is in danger from a rival band.

796

120

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

That screws® me from my true place in your favor, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still. But this your minion,? whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender® dearly,

130

Him will I tear out of that cruel eye Where he sits crownéd in his master’s spite—? Come, boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe in mischief. I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love To spite a raven’s heart within a dove. vioLA_ And I, most jocund,° apt,° and willingly, To do you rest® a thousand deaths would die. oLtiviA_ Where goes Cesario? VIOLA After him I love

wrenches

darling regard

cheerfully / ready give you relief

More than I love these eyes, more than my life,

More by all mores! than e’er I shall love wife. If Ido feign, you witnesses above, Punish my life for tainting of my love. OLIVIA Ay me, detested! How am I beguiled!° vioLA Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong? oLiviA Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?

deceived

Call forth the holy father. [Exit an attendant.| ORSINO [to VIOLA] Come, away! 140

oLtiviA orsiINno OLIVIA

Whither, my lord?—Cesario, husband, stay. Husband? Ay, husband. Can he that deny?

orSINO

Her husband, sirrah??

VIOLA

145

No, my lord, not I.

oLiviA Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety.’ Fear not, Cesario. Take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know’st thou art, and then thou art

As great as that° thou fear’st.

him whom

Enter PRIEST

O, welcome, father.

150

Father, I charge thee by thy reverence Here to unfold—though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion® now Reveals before ’tis ripe—what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me. PRIEST

necessity

A contract of eternal bond of love,

Confirmed by mutual joinder® of your hands, Attested by the holy close® of lips, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function,* by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave 9. To the mortification of his master. 1. More beyond all comparison. 2 . Contemptuous form of address to an inferior.

joining meeting

3. That makes you deny your identity (as my husband). 4. Ratified by priestly authority.

Te VVsE

160

Gere NG

Tale toed

|

USE

I have traveled but two hours. ORSINO [to VIOLA]

O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be

When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case?? Or will not else® thy craft° so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?° Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. vIOLA My lord, I do protest— OLIVIA O, do not swear. Hold little° faith, though thou hast too much fear.

otherwise / craftiness

preserve some

Enter SiR ANDREW.

SIR ANDREW_ For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently® to Sir Toby. oLiviA What’s the matter? SIR ANDREW _ He’s broke® my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb’ too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. oLiviA

cut

Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW

180

immediately

The

Count’s

gentleman,

one

Cesario.

We

took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.® orsINO. My gentleman Cesario? sIR ANDREW ’Od’s lifelings,° here he is!|—You broke my _by God‘ little lives head for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do’t by

185

Sir Toby. vioLA Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you. You drew your sword upon me without cause, But I bespake you fair’ and hurt you not. SIR ANDREW If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me. I think you set nothing by° a bloody coxcomb. _ think nothing of Enter sir Topsy and [FESTE, the] clown.

190

limping Here comes Sir Toby halting.° You shall hear more. But if? he had not been in drink, he would have tickled® if only / chastised in other ways you othergates® than he did. orsINO How now, gentleman? How is’t with you? That’s all one.° He’s hurt me, and there’s th’ sin TOBY Sot,° didst see Dick Surgeon, end on't. [to FESTE]

no matter fool; drunkard

sot? FESTE

200

O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. His eyes

were set! at eight i th’ morning. 2 str roBy Then he’s a rogue and a passy-measures pavan. I hate a drunken rogue. oLiviA Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them? 5. A gray hair (“grizzle”) on your hide (sustaining the metaphor of “cub”). 6. That your attempt to trip someone else will be the cause of your downfall. 7. Head; also, a fool’s cap, which resembles the crest of a cock. 8. Sir Andrew’s

blunder for “incarnate” (in the

flesh). 9. But I spoke courteously to you. 1. Closed (as the sun sets). 2. A variety of the slow dance known as “pavane” (from the Italian passemezzo pavana). Sir Toby may think its swaying movements suggest drunkenness.

IMS

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

sIR ANDREW I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed? together. sir TOBY Will you help?—an ass-head, and a coxcomb,° and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull?° 205

oLiviA

fool dupe

Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to. [Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, FESTE, and FABIAN.|

Enter SEBASTIAN. SEBASTIAN [am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman, But, had it been the brother of my blood,

210

I must have done no less with wit and safety.’ You throw a strange regard upon me,’ and by that regard me strangely I do perceive it hath offended you. Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago. ORSINO One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! A natural perspective,’ that is and is not! SEBASTIAN

220

oLiviA

tw i) VI

230

i) Wwwi

240

Antonio, O, my dear Antonio!

How have the hours racked and tortured me Since I have lost thee! ANTONIO Sebastian are you? SEBASTIAN Fear’st thou® that, Antonio? ANTONIO How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? Most wonderful!°

do you doubt

full of wonder

SEBASTIAN [looking at vioLA] Do I stand there? I never had a brother, Nor can there be that deity°® in my nature divine power Of here and everywhere.° I had a sister, of omnipresence Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured. Of charity,° what kin are you to me? please What countryman? What name? What parentage? vioLA Of Messaline. Sebastian was my father. Such a Sebastian was my brother, too. So went he suited® to his watery tomb. in appearance; clad If spirits can assume both form and suit, You come to fright us. SEBASTIAN A spirit | am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate.° Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,° the rest suggests I should my tears let fall upon your cheek And say “Thrice welcome, drownéd Viola.” vioLA_ My father had a mole upon his brow. SEBASTIAN And so had mine. vioLA And died that day when Viola from her birth

3. We'll have our wounds dressed. 4. With any sense of my welfare. 5. An optical illusion produced by nature (rather

than by a mirror). 6. L.e., Lam clad, like all mortals, in the flesh in which I was born.

PW

250

REMI

Ni Ginn ©S¥1

Had numbered thirteen years. SEBASTIAN O), that record is lively’ in my soul! He finishéd indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. vioLa If nothing lets° to make us happy both But this my masculine usurped attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump°

|

hI9

hinders

agree

That I am Viola; which to confirm,

I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds;° by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. SEBASTIAN [to OLIVIA]

260

265

270

So comes it, lady, you have been mistook.

But nature to her bias drew in that.§ You would have been contracted® to a maid. betrothed Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived: You are betrothed both to a maid and man.’ ORSINO [to OLIVIA] Be not amazed; right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,! I shall have share in this most happy wrack.°-— fortunate shipwreck Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. vioLa And all those sayings will I overswear® swear again And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbéd continent? the fire That severs day from night. ORSINO Give me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds. vioLA The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid’s garments. He, upon some action,” legal charge prison

Is now in durance® at Malvolio’s suit, 7B)

clothes

A gentleman and follower of my lady’s. otiviA_ He shall enlarge® him. Fetch Malvolio hither.

release

And yet, alas, now I remember me,

They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract.”

crazed

Enter [FESTE, the] clown with a letter, and FABIAN. 280

A most extracting? frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banished his. How does he, sirrah? Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub FESTE

distracting

at the stave’s

end? as well as a man in his case may do. He’s here writ a letter to you. I should have given’t you today morning.

7. The memory of that is vivid. 8. But nature followed her inclination.

(The

image is frorn the game of bowls, which sometimes used a ball with an off-center weight that caused it to curve away from a straight course.) 9. I.e., aman who is a virgin.

1. The “natural perspective” ues to seem real.

(line 214) contin-

2. Referring to either the sun or the sphere within which the sun was thought to be fixed. 3. He holds the devil (who threatens to possess him) at a distance (proverbial).

800

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

But as a madman’s epistles are no gospels,’ so it skills O° not much when they are delivered. OLIVIA. Open'’t and read it.

matters

FESTE Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivspeaks the words of ers® the madman. [He reads.] “By the Lord, madam’— OLIVIA How now, art thou mad? FESTE No, madam, I do but read madness. An your lady-

29>

300

305

310

ship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.’ oLiviA Prithee, read i’ thy right wits. FESTE So I do, madonna. But to read his right wits® is to read thus. Therefore, perpend,° my princess, and give ear. OLIVIA [giving letter to Fabian] Read it you, sirrah. FABIAN “By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance® I put on, with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of and speak out of my injury.’ The madly-used Malvolio.” oLiviA Did he write this? FESTE Ay, madam. oRSINO This savors not much of distraction.° OLIVIA See him delivered,° Fabian. Bring him hither.

pay attention

appearance

insanity

released

[Exit FABIAN. |

My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife,® One day shall crown th’ alliance? on’t, so please you, 315

Here at my house, and at my proper cost.° ORSINO Madam, I am most apt° t’ embrace your offer. [to vioLA] Your master quits® you; and for your service

own expense

ready releases

done him,

So much against the mettle® of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you called me “master” for so long, Here is my hand. You shall from this time be Your master’s mistress.

disposition

OLIVIA [to VIOLA]

A sister! You are she. Enter MALVOLIO [and FABIAN].

orSINO OLIVIA

Is this the madman? Ay, my lord, this same.—

4. Gospel truths. “Epistles”: letters (playing on the sense of apostolic accounts of Christ in the New Testament). 5. The appropriate voice (Latin). 6.

To accurately represent his mental state.

7. I neglect the formality | owe you as your servant and speak as an injured person. 8. To think as well of me as a sister-in-law as you would have thought of me as a wife. 9. The impending double-marriage ceremony.

TWEE

Ese

NIG AT

eset

|

801

How now, Malvolio? MALVOLIO Madam, you have done me wrong,

Notorious wrong. 325

OLIVIA

Have I, Malvolio? No.

MALVOLIA [handing her a paper| Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand.° Write from? it if you can, in hand or phrase, Or say ‘tis not your seal, not your invention.°

330

335

handwriting differently from composition

You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me, in the modesty of honor,! Why you have given me such clear lights® of favor? Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter° people? And, acting® this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffered° me to be imprisoned,

signs lesser upon doing allowed

Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,

340

345

And made the most notorious geck® and gull That e’er invention® played on? Tell me why. otiviA_ Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though I confess much like the character.° But out of question, ‘tis Maria’s hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she

fool trickery handwriting

First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st® in smiling,

you came

And in such forms which here were presupposed°® Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content. This practice hath most shrewdly passed’ upon thee.

previously suggested

But when we know the grounds and authors of it,

350

Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. FABIAN

355

360

Good madam, hear me speak,

And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wondered? at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon? some stubborn and uncourteous parts°® We had conceived against him.* Maria writ The letter, at Sir Toby’s great importance,” In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful° malice it was followed°

marveled

/ behavior because importunity, insistence playful /followed through

May rather pluck on° laughter than revenge, If that the injuries be justly weighed That have on both sides passed. OLIVIA [to MALVOLIO] 365

incite

Alas, poor fool, how have they disgraced

baffled° thee! 1. Tell me with the propriety that becomes noblewoman.

a

2. This trick has most mischievously played. 3. To which we took exception.

802

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

FESTE Why, “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.” I was one, sir, in this interlude,° one Sir Topas, sir, but that’s

comedy

all one. “By the Lord, fool, | am not mad’—but, do you remember “Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal; an you smile not, he’s gagged”? And thus the whirligig? of time brings in his revenges. MALVOLIO I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you!

spinning top

[Exit.]

oLiviA_ ORSINO

He hath been most notoriously abused. Pursue him and entreat him to a peace.

[Exit one or more.|

He hath not told us of the captain yet. When that is known, and golden time convents,° A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister,

summons;

We will not part from hence.° Cesario, come— For so you shall be while you are a man. But when in other habits° you are seen,

380

is convenient

(Olivia's house) attire

Orsino’s mistress, and his fancy’s°® queen. love's; imagination’s Exeunt [all but reste] FESTE sings When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man’s estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day.

390

But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

By swaggering® could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.

395

bullying

But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

With tosspots? still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day.

drunkards

A great while ago the world begun,

400

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

But that’s all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. Exit. ca.

1601

1623

803

Othello

Othello (1603—04), one of a succession

of tragic masterpieces

that

Shakespeare wrote in the early years of the seventeenth century, is unrivaled in its excruciating intensity. With its almost clinical account of a malevolent assault on love and beauty, the play has for centuries aroused in audiences the paradoxical blend of pleasure and acute discomfort characteristic of great tragedy. The performance history of Othello includes anecdotes of spectators attempting to intervene by angrily denouncing the villain, shouting advice to the deceived hero, or even rushing onstage to save the doomed heroine. If such stories reveal a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of theater, they also disclose Shakespeare’s brilliant exploitation of the gap between the performers and the audience. We see what is happening; we understand where it is leading; we urgently want to prevent the catastrophe—but, as in a nightmare, we are powerless to do so. Othello is a prime instance of what a twentieth-century writer, Antonin Artaud, called “the theater of cruelty.” This cruelty is intensified by the fact that the plot of Shakespeare's tragedy is woven from some of the elements of the joyous comedies in which he had already distinguished himself. Othello begins with a miniature version of the traditional comedy of sexual fulfillment. Refusing to allow his daughter to elope with the man of her choosing, an angry father, well-born, wealthy, and powerful, lodges a formal complaint before the authorities. His daughter, he alleges, has been seduced by means of witchcraft; otherwise, she would never have been attracted to someone so far below her in social

class and culture. At first the authorities—the senators of the Venetian Republic— seem inclined to agree, but after hearing testimony from the couple in question, Othello and Desdemona, they dismiss the father’s complaint. The rigid hold of the older generation over the desires of the next is broken, paternal possessiveness is defeated, and romantic love triumphs over familial bonds. And lest this triumph should seem to threaten the social order, the romantic couple is legitimated by marriage, the newlywed husband makes clear his devotion to serving the state in its war against the Ottoman Turks, and the spouse who at first seemed socially unsuitable turns out to be the equal of his amorous conquest. “I fetch my life and being,” Othello declares, “From men of royal siege” (1.2.21—22). All’s well that ends well.

But, of course, it does not end well. Disturbing elements, also with roots in comedy, have already begun to surface in the first scenes. One of these is the familiar farce of January and May: the old man married to the much younger, lusty wife who is courted by handsome, unscrupulous suitors. Another is what we might call the comedy of fantastical passion: the person who awakens from the trance of love to find that the object of desire is in fact ridiculous. Still another is the braggart soldier, the preening, selfpromoting hero who is revealed to be an empty shell. And yet another is the mocking of the alien, the collective ridiculing of an outsider who hopes to be accepted but whom the natives despise as outlandish, gullible, and grotesque. There is one person who is particularly sensitive to all of these cruel comic undertones: Othello’s devious, resentful third-in-command, Iago. Unable to derail Othello’s elopement, Iago seizes on potentially destructive versions of Othello and Desdemona’s story. Desdemona fell in love with Othello merely for his bragging, he tells the lovesick Roderigo, but she will soon realize her mistake and long for someone younger, more handsome, more appropriate. When Roderigo doubts that Desdemona can be so easily seduced—‘“I cannot believe that in her; she’s full of most blessed condition” —lago replies with the cynic’s tough, deflating realism: “Blessed fig’s-end! The wine she drinks is made of grapes” (2.1.246—49). The problem for Iago, though, is that none of these conventional comic scenarios seems very promising. Desdemona shows no sign of restlessness with her choice, nor does she register any discomfort with the age difference between herself and her husband. Othello’s martial heroism is the real thing, attested to by everyone and elegantly manifested in the serene self-confidence with which he greets the armed followers of his irate father-in-law: “Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust

“Men whose heads / Do grow beneath their shoulders” (Othello 1.3.143—44), in an

engraving by Jodocus Hondius from a 1599 edition of Ralegh’s Discovery of Guiana. These creatures, known as Blemmyes or Ewaipanoma, are reported as well in Mandeville’s Travels. them” (1.2.59). It is true that he initially allured Desdemona with exotic tales from

what he calls “the story of my life” (1.3.128), but the bond between them is anything but superficial: consecrating her “soul and fortunes” to her husband, she declares that her “heart's subdued / Even to the very quality of my lord” (1.3.252, 248—49). The strongest weapon in Iago’s arsenal is racism, the contempt and revulsion with which many Europeans in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance routinely stigmatized dark skin and negroid features. This attitude, which is on display in several of the texts included in the “Wider World” section of this anthology, is also reflected in a document issued by Queen Elizabeth in 1601, complaining about the “great numbers of Negars and Blackamoors” who “are crept into this realm.” Denouncing these unwelcome people as “infidels, having no understanding of Christ or his Gospel,” the queen authorized their deportation (though it is not clear that any such expulsion was carried out). In the tragedy Shakespeare wrote only a few years after this order, his hero is a Moor, whether that refers to North Africa or to sub-Saharan Africa, and this identity

is enough to trigger the vile abuse lago and Roderigo shout in the darkness in the first moments of the play. Othello is an “old black ram,” “a Barbary horse” (1.1.85, 108). But even this weapon seems blunted. Othello is not a religious outsider, but a Christian. He is the valiant commander to whom the state of Venice turns when it needs to defend its strategic outpost Cyprus against the great Muslim enemy, the Turks. Racial slurs in this play are the hallmarks of viciousness, not the collective judgment of the community. As for Desdemona, her declaration that she “saw Othello’s visage in his mind” (1.3.250) suggests, among other things, that the color of her husband’s skin is not relevant to the great love that unites them. How then does lago do it? How does he succeed in undermining Othello’s absolute faith in his wife and in shattering what seems an unshakable bond? Shakespeare depicts the destruction in one of the greatest scenes he ever wrote, a quiet conversation between the two men. The Turkish threat has vanished, blown away

OTHELLO

|

805

by a storm; Othello and Desdemona have been safely reunited in Cyprus; and though a drunken brawl in the night (cunningly instigated by lago) has temporarily disgraced Othello’s lieutenant Cassio, all the significant obstacles to harmony both public and private have been resolved. At this moment of almost perfect security, lago injects the fatal poison of jealousy into Othello by little more than the intonation of the simple word “indeed” (3.3.101). Without leveling any direct accusation or offering a shred of evidence, with only a succession of apparently naive questions and broken phrases, Iago manages to insert himself into and remake—indeed, destroy—Othello’s whole world. Othello is not naive. He grasps that the verbal feints and dodges lago is performing could “in a false disloyal knave” (3.3.124) be tricks designed to take in the gullible. But he knows

Iago well, he thinks,

and has confidence

in his honesty.

Tormented by the unbearable pain of aroused jealousy, Othello demands “ocular proof” (3.3.361) of Desdemona’s adultery with Cassio. lago, who has been promoted to lieutenant in Cassio’s place, then embarks on a devious set of deceptions, cen-

tered on an embroidered handkerchief, a gift from Othello, that Desdemona has inadvertently mislaid. “Trifles light as air,” Iago gleefully observes, “Are to the jealous confirmations strong / As proofs of holy writ” (3.3.323—25). What is Iago’s motive? Why should he want to destroy Othello, on whom his livelihood depends, and Desdemona, whom his own wife, Emilia, serves as lady’s maid? Early in the play Iago presents himself as someone with an eye only for his own interests: “not I for love and duty, / But seeming so, for my peculiar end” (1.1.56—

57). But it is difficult to make out how ruining his commander could help lago. What is his peculiar—that is, personal—end? As was his usual practice, Shakespeare did not make up the plot of his play from scratch but instead adapted it—in this case, from a short story by the sixteenthcentury Italian writer Giraldi Cinthio. In Cinthio’s account the villain’s pathology is reasonably clear. Having fallen ardently in love with Desdemona, he tried to seduce her. When he did not succeed, the love he felt for the general’s wife turned into violent loathing, and he set about to destroy her. Shakespeare discards this motivation. His villain does not dream of possessing Othello’s wife, nor is she the particular object of his hatred. To be sure, there is a moment in which Iago seems to be heading in this direction—“Now I do love her too” (2.1.287), he declares in one of his

sinister soliloquies—yet he immediately veers away from it toward a farrago of other explanations. Iago’s repeated attempts to account for his obsessive, unappeasable hatred of Othello are famously unconvincing. Coleridge called them “the motive-hunting of motiveless malignity.” Near the play’s end, when he has come to understand that he has been duped into murdering his innocent, loving wife and that his life has been destroyed in the cruelest imaginable way, Othello asks why Iago “hath thus ensnared my soul and body?” Iago’s spare, monosyllabic reply—his last utterance in the play—is a refusal to apologize or explain: “What you know, you know. / From this time forth I never will speak word” (5.2.307—09). But why does Othello succumb? Why should a passion on which he has staked his whole being—“when I love thee not, / Chaos is come again” (3.3.91-92)—prove

so fragile? Why should he doubt the faith of a woman so obviously single-minded in her devotion to him and so absolute in her love? The answer in part seems to lie in the terrible vulnerability of trust. As Iago coolly observes, Othello “[i]s of a con-

stant, loving, noble nature” (2.1.285). That nature is bound up with his capacity to cherish his friends, rely on his subordinates, and above all, open his whole soul to

his wife: “My life upon her faith!” (1.3.293). But such openness makes it possible for Iago to penetrate Othello’s psychic defenses and refashion his perceptions. Though Iago has a coarse and reductive account of human nature, he is a brilliant improviser, able to employ whatever comes to hand to shape illusions and to manipulate those around him like puppets in a theatrical performance of his making. He bustles about using people without a trace of moral restraint, shame, or decency, and

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SHAKESPEARE

he has the peculiar liberty of complete fraudulence: “I am not what I am” (1.1.62). In

the end, he is exposed—by the wife whom he despises, abuses, and finally murders— but not before he has ruined whatever seemed most beautiful and precious in his world. Such is the power of cunning lies and twisted hatred over someone “that loved not wisely but too well” (5.2.349).

But perhaps this characterization of himself, offered by Othello just before his suicide, is not quite right, or at least not complete. Perhaps there is something disturbing in his love—some strain of anxiety about the future, about sexual pleasure, about his capacity for happiness—that Iago senses he can exploit. “If it were now to die,” Othello has declared at the height of his joy,

"Twere now to be most happy; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate. (2.1.187—91)

Desdemona attempts to offer reassurance—“The heavens forbid / But that our loves and comforts should increase / Even as our days do grow” (2.1.191—93)—but the malevolent worm of Iago’s doubt is more powerful than her generous embrace. Or is it? Desdemona struggles in her last breath to commend herself to her “kind lord” (5.2.128), and Othello, desperately attempting to reestablish a moral order by executing himself, dies kissing the wife whose innocence he knows he has fatally wronged. Readers and audiences have, for more than four centuries, pondered how much these final gestures offer a glimpse of redemption through boundless love.

The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice’ THe NAMES OF THE AcTors! OTHELLO, the Moor [and General of the Venetian forces] BRABANTIO, father to Desdemona [and a Venetian Senator] cassio, an honorable lieutenant [to Othello]

1AGO, a villain [and Othello’s standard-bearer or ensign]

RODERIGO, a gulled® gentleman DUKE of Venice SENATORS MONTANO, Governor of Cyprus GENTLEMEN of Cyprus

deceived

LODOVICO and GRATIANO, two Noble Venetians [and kinsmen to Brabantio] SAILORS OFFICERS CLOWN DESDEMONA, wife to Othello

EMILIA, wife to lago BIANCA,

a Courtesan

MESSENGERS MUSICIANS “Othello exists in two early texts, both of which have a claim to authority: a version published in the small, inexpensive quarto format in 1622 (Q) and a version published in the great First Folio of 1623 (F). There are many small and some substantial differences between them, including 160 lines that are found only in F. The text printed here is adapted from the Norton Critical

Edition of Othello, edited by Edward Pechter. Like most modern editors of the play, Pechter bases his text on F, corrected by some readings from Q. Significant departures from Pechter’s text have been footnoted. 1. The list of characters (with its misleading title) is reproduced from the First Folio, with some bracketed additions.

Od

MELEO

TH

|

807

bea Enter RODERIGO and 1AGo.!

RODERIGO Tush, never tell me!? I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. IAGO ’Sblood,° but you'll not hear me! If ever I did dream

by Christ's blood

Of such a matter, abhor me. RODERIGO Thou told’st me

Thou didst hold him in thy hate. Despise me

IAGO

If Ido not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capped® to him; and by the faith of man I know my price; I am worth no worse a place. But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,

Evades them with a bombast circumstance,’ Horribly stuffed with epithets of war,° Non-suits® my mediators. For “Certes,”° says he, “T have already chose my officer.” And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician,*

took off their caps

i.e., military jargon denies / certainly

One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,

A fellow almost damned in a fair wife,’ 20

That° never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division® of a battle? knows More than a spinster°—unless the bookish theorick,°?

25

30

who

ordering / battalion

housewife /learning

Wherein the tonguéd consuls can propose® As masterly as he. Mere prattle without practice Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had th’election And I—of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds, Christened and heathen—must be beleed® and calmed’ By debitor and creditor. This counter-caster,®

without wind

He in good time® must his lieutenant be, And I—God bless the mark!° —his Moorship’s ancient.’ RODERIGO By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. 1AGo. Why, there’s no remedy. "Tis the curse of service; Preferment goes by letter and affection,

indeed (scornful)

God help us

1.1 Location: A street in Venice. 1, lago’s name may be related to that of Santiago

6. In which the glib senators can debate. In Q the senators are not “tonguéd” but “togaed,” i.e., toga-

Matamoros

wearing.

(Saint James

the Moor-Slayer),

the

patron saint of Spain. 2. Expressive of annoyance, disbelief. 3. With an inflated circumlocution. “Bombast”: cotton padding in clothes, a metaphor picked up by “stuffed” (line 13) and perhaps “Non-suits” (line 14).

4. Implying that Cassio’s knowledge of war is purely theoretical. 5. Obscure. Cassio has not yet met Bianca and is unmarried (although in Shakespeare's source he is married). Perhaps Shakespeare’s error, a refer-

ence to Cassio as a ladies’ man, or an oblique anticipation of the main plot.

7. Becalmed. 8. Pejorative term for an accountant

(Cassio), as

is “debitor and creditor.” 9. A variant form of ensign.

Iago is something

like a standard-bearer or third-in-command. He clearly ranks below “lieutenant” Cassio, the second-in-command. This reference to “his Moorship” is also the first indication about whom Iago has been complaining. 1]. Promotion comes through connections and favoritism.

808

35

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

And not by old gradation,° where each second Stood heir to th’first. Now, sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affined® To love the Moor.? RODERIGO I would not follow him then. IAGO

traditional seniority am bound in any just way

O, sir, content you.°

be content

I follow him to serve my turn upon him. 40

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters

45

Cannot be truly followed. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time much like his master’s ass, For naught but provender;° and when he’s old— cashiered.° Whip me?® such honest knaves! Others there are Who, trimmed? in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their

50

But seeming so, for my peculiar® end.

65

outwardly decorated

coats,

Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago. In following him, I follow but myself. Heaven is my judge, not I for® love and duty,

60

animal feed fired the hell with

For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure? of my heart In complement extern,’ 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws? to peck at. Iam not what I am. RODERIGO What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe® If he can carry’t thus! IAGO Call up her father,

I am not driven by personal

outward appearance crowlike birds

own

Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight. Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen,

And though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such chances of vexation on’t,

As it may lose some color. RODERIGO

Here is her father’s house. I’ll call aloud.

1AGO__Do, with like timorous accent® and dire yell

2. A Muslim of the mixed Berber and Arab people inhabiting northwest Africa. This term, like

the comparison of Othello to a “Barbary horse” (an Arab, line 108), formerly led to the denial of Othello’s blackness. But the passages describing Othello’s appearance—“thick-lips,” “black ram,” “sooty bosom,” “black Othello,” “I am_ black,”

frightening tone

“black / As mine own face” (1.1.63, 1.1.85, 1.2.70, 2.3.29, 3.3.265, 3.3.388-89)—seem to have

greater weight. In the Renaissance, “Moor” often meant sub-Saharan African. 3. The innate operation (or motivation) and shape (or nature).

OMMELZOR

ia

|

809

As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities. 75

RODERIGO

What ho, Brabantio! Signor Brabantio, ho!

14GO. Awake! What ho, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! Thieves, thieves! [Enter] BRABANTIO above at a window. 80

85

BRABANTIO What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? RODERIGO Signor, is all your family within? 1AGO. Are your doors locked? BRABANTIO Why? Wherefore ask you this? IAGO ’Swounds,’ sir, you're robbed! For shame, put on _ by Christ's wounds your gown! Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul. Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping® your white ewe. Arise, arise!

copulating with

Awake the snorting® citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you.

snoring

Arise, I say! 90

95

BRABANTIO What, have you lost your wits? RODERIGO Most reverend signor, do you know my voice? BRABANTIO Not I; what are you? RODERIGO My name is Roderigo. BRABANTIO The worser welcome! I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors; In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee. And now in madness, Being full of supper and distemp’ring® draughts, Upon malicious bravery,’ dost thou come To start® my quiet.

destabilizing defiance upset

RODERIGO _ Sir, sir, sir—

BRABANTIO 100

But thou must needs be sure,

My spirits and my place® have in their power To make this bitter to thee. RODERIGO Patience, good sir. BRABANTIO. What tell’st thou me of robbing? This is

rank

Venice; My house is not a grange.°

105

110

country house

RODERIGO Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul, I come to you. 1aGo. ’Swounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;* you'll have your nephews? neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins and jennets for germans.’ 4. Horse from northwest coastal Africa. 5. Close relatives. “Coursers”: strong horses.

“Cousins”: horses.

kinsmen.

grandsons

“Jennets”: small Spanish

810

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

BRABANTIO What profane wretch art thou? 14Go. lam one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are making the beast with two backs.° BRABANTIO ‘Thou art a villain. IAGO You are a senator. BRABANTIO.

copulating

This thou shalt answer.° I know thee,

account for

Roderigo. RODERIGO _ Sir, I will answer anything. But I beseech you, If’t be your pleasure, and most wise consent—°® As partly I find it is—that your fair daughter, At this odd-even® and dull watch o’th’ night,

120

late (around midnight)

Transported with no worse nor better guard But with a knave of common’ hire, a gondolier,

125

130

135

140

To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor— If this be known to you, and your allowance,° We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs. But if you know not this, my manners tell me We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe That from® the sense of all civility I thus would play and trifle with your reverence. Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt, Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes In an extravagant and wheeling stranger’ Of here and everywhere. Straight® satisfy yourself. If she be in her chamber or your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state For thus deluding you. BRABANTIO Strike on the tinder,’ ho! Give me a taper,’ call up all my people! This accident® is not unlike my dream, Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I say, light! Exit [above]. IAGO Farewell, for I must leave you. It seems not meet® nor wholesome

to my place

To be producted°—as, if I stay, I shall— Against the Moor. For I do know the state, However this may gall him with some check,° Cannot with safety cast° him; for he’s embarked°® With such loud’ reason to the Cyprus wars,

145

Which even now stands in act,° that, for their souls,

Another of his fathom? they have none To lead their business. In which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, Yet for necessity of present life I must show out a flag and sign of love,

150

. Lines 118-34 do not appear in Q. . Ina vagrant and vagabond foreigner.

ON SI

public

allowed by you

in opposition to

immediately

a light candle event

proper presented as witness

reprimand dismiss / committed urgent

are taking place caliber

OTHEBEOMRZ

|

811

Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,

Lead to the Sagittary® the raiséd search,° And there will I be with him. So farewell.

awakened searchers Exit.

Enter |below] BRABANTIO in his nightgown, with servants and torches BRABANTIO _ It is too true an evil. Gone she is,

160

And what’s to come of my despiséd time® Is naught but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her?>—O unhappy girl!— With the Moor, say’st thou?—Who would be a father?—

lifetime

How didst thou know ‘twas she?—O, she deceives me

Past thought!—What said she to you?— [to servants] Get more tapers,

Raise all my kindred! [Exit one or more.| [to RODERIGO| Are they married, think you? 165

170

RODERIGO Truly, I think they are. BRABANTIO O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters’ minds By what you see them act. Is there not charms? By which the property® of youth and maidhood® May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing?

magic attribute / virginity

RODERIGO Yes, sir, | have indeed. BRABANTIO [to servants] Call up my brother. [to RODERIGO] O, would you had had her! [to servants] Some one way, some another. [Exit one or more.| [to RODERIGO| Do you know

180

Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? RODERIGO I think I can discover him, if you please To get good guard and go along with me. BRABANTIO Pray you lead on. At every house I'll call; I may command? at most.—Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night— On, good Roderigo; I will deserve® your pains.

demand help reward

Exeunt. 12 Enter OTHELLO, 1AGO, [and] attendants with torches.

1aGo. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff° o’th’ conscience To do no contrived® murder. | lack iniquity,

8. Perhaps indicating an inn named for the astrological sign Sagittarius, where Othello and Desdemona are staying. It may also suggest Othello himself, because Sagittarius is depicted as a centaur (a mythological being part man,

essence premeditated

part horse), and Iago has already likened Othello to a “Barbary horse.” 1.2 Location: Another street in Venice, before Othello’s lodgings.

812

|

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SHAKESPEARE

Sometime, to do me service. Nine or ten times 5

I had thought t’have yerked him® here, under the ribs. _ stabbed (Roderigo) OTHELLO "Tis better as it is. IAGO Nay, but he prated And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honor That, with the little godliness I have,

I did full hard forbear him.' But I pray you, sir, Are you fast® married? Be assured of this, That the magnifico® is much beloved, And hath in his effect a voice potential® As double as the duke’s. He will divorce you,

legitimately (Brabantio) powerful

Or put upon you what restraint or grievance

The law, with all his might to enforce it on, Will give him cable.° OTHELLO Let him do his spite. My services, which I have done the signory,° Shall out-tongue his complaints. "Tis yet to know°—

scope Venetian government ___not publicly known

Which, when I know that boasting is an honor,

I shall promulgate—I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege;° and my demerits® May speak unbonneted? to as proud a fortune

rank /deserts

As this that I have reached. For know, Iago, i) an

30

35

40

But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhouséd? free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the seas’ worth. But look, what lights come yond? Enter cassio, with officers and torches. 1AGO. Those are the raiséd father and his friends. You were best go in. OTHELLO

unconfined

Not I; I must be found.

My parts,° my title, and my perfect soul? qualities Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? 1AGO_ By Janus,° I think no. two-faced Roman god OTHELLO The servants of the duke? And my lieutenant? The goodness of the night upon you, friends. What is the news? CASSIO The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance Even on the instant. OTHELLO What is the matter, think you? cAssio_ Something from Cyprus, as I may divine. It is a business of some heat.° The galleys urgency Have sent a dozen sequent°® messengers

This very night at one another’s heels, And many of the consuls, raised and met, Are at the duke’s already. You have been hotly called for; |. I barely restrained myself from attacking him. 2. Without deference; modestly.

3. My clear conscience.

successive

OnE

When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about® three several quests To search you out. OTHELLO ‘Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house And go with you. CASSIO 50

EMO

P12

|

813

out

[Exit.|

Ancient, what makes he here?

1AGO_ Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land-carrack.4 If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever. cassio_ I do not understand. IAGO He’s married. CASSIO To who? 1AGO-Marry,° to— [Enter OTHELLO.]

by Mary (a mild oath)

Come, captain, will you go? OTHELLO Have with cassio_ Here comes another troop to seek for you. Enter BRABANTIO [and] RODERIGO, with officers and torches. 1AGO_ It is Brabantio; general, be advised, He comes to bad intent. OTHELLO Holla, stand there!

RODERIGO

ou.’

let’s & go

Signor, it is the Moor.

BRABANTIO Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides.| 1AGO You, Roderigo? Come, sir, I am for you.

60

OTHELLO Keep up® your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signor, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons. BRABANTIO

put away

O thou foul thief, where hast thou stowed

my daughter? Damned as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; 65

For I'll refer me to all things of sense,’ If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid, so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunned The wealthy curléd darlings of our nation, Would ever have, t’incur a general mock,

70

1h)

Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou—to fear, not to delight. Judge me the world if ’tis not gross in sense® That thou hast practiced on her with foul charms, Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weakens motion.° I'll have’t disputed on; Tis probable and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach® thee For an abuser of the world, a practicer 4. A carrack is a large merchant ship. 5. For I'll ask, relying on common sense.

6. If it is not patently obvious. Lines 72-77 do

not appear in Q. 7. Argued by experts.

natural inclination

arrest

814

80

85

90

95

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.° prohibited and illegal Lay hold upon him; if he do resist, Subdue him at his peril! OTHELLO Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining? and the rest. following Were it my cue to fight, | should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge? BRABANTIO To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session Call thee to answer. OTHELLO What if I do obey? How may the duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side Upon some present business of the state To bring me to him? OFFICER "Tis true, most worthy signor. The duke’s in council, and your noble self I am sure is sent for. BRABANTIO How? The duke in council? In this time of the night? Bring him away.° along Mine's not an idle cause. The duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as ’twere their own; For if such actions may have passage free, Bondslaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. Exeunt. les

wT

Enter DUKE and SENATORS set at a table, with lights and OFFICERS. DUKE ‘There’s no composition in this news That gives them credit.! FIRST SENATOR Indeed, they are disproportioned;° inconsistent My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. DUKE And mine a hundred forty. SECOND SENATOR And mine two hundred. But though they jump not on a just account°— don't exactly agree As in these cases where the aim reports ‘Tis oft with difference*—yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. DUKE Nay, it is possible enough to judgment; I do not so secure me in the error But the main article I do approve

In fearful sense.? 1.3 Location: A Venetian council room. 1. The reports lack the consistency that would make them believable. 2. “Where . . . difference”: where the reports are estimates, there are often discrepancies among

them. 3. “I do not. ..sense”: I am not so reassured by the discrepancies as to dismiss the main concern—the approach of a Turkish fleet.

OT

SAILOR [within| Enter SAILOR.

OFFICER

|

815

What ho! what ho! what ho!

A messenger from the galleys.

DUKE

20

MELEOF 33

Now, what’s the business?

sAILoR The Turkish preparation® makes for Rhodes. So was I bid report here to the state By Signor Angelo.* DUKE How say you by this change? FIRST SENATOR This cannot be By no assay® of reason. "Tis a pageant To keep us in false gaze. When we consider Th’ importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, And let ourselves again but understand That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,

battle-ready fleet

test

So may he with more facile question bear it,” For that it stands not in such warlike brace, 25

30

But altogether lacks th’abilities That Rhodes is dressed in—if we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskillful To leave that latest° which concerns him first,

last

Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain To wake and wage? a danger profitless. DUKE Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes.

risk

OFFICER

Here is more news. Enter a MESSENGER.

MESSENGER The Ottomites,° reverend and gracious,° Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after? fleet.

FIRST SENATOR

45

joined with another

Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

MESSENGER Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem® Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signor Montano, 40

Ottoman Turks

retrace

Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus,’

And prays you to believe him. DUKE "Tis certain then for Cyprus. Marcus Luccicos*—is not he in town? FIRST SENATOR He’s now in Florence. DUKE Write from us to him post-post-haste. Dispatch! FIRST SENATOR Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

puKE

Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, CASSIO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and OFFICERS. Valiant Othello, we must straight? employ you

4. Not mentioned elsewhere in the play, Angelus Sorianus was a Venetian sea captain who received the Venetian ambassador bearing from Constantinople the Turkish ultimatum to surrender Cyprus, shortly before its capture by the Turks in 1571.

immediately

5. So also can the Turkish fleet more easily win it. 6. Addressed to the senators. 7. With his freely given loyalty reports to you thus. 8. Not mentioned elsewhere in the play.

816

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Against the general enemy° Ottoman. 50

55

60

(of all Christendom)

[to BRABANTIO] I did not see you; welcome, gentle® signor.

noble

We lacked your counsel and your help tonight. BRABANTIO So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me. Neither my place® nor aught I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed; nor doth the general care Take hold on me. For my particular grief Is of so floodgate and o’erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.’ DUKE Why, what’s the matter? BRABANTIO My daughter, O my daughter! SENATOR Dead? BRABANTIO Ay, to me. She is abused,’ stol’n from me and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;°

official duty

deluded quacks

For nature so preposterously to err,

Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, 65

70

Sans° witchcraft could not. DUKE Whoe’er he be that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter After your own sense; yea, though our proper son Stood in your action.! BRABANTIO Humbly I thank your grace.

without

Here is the man, this Moor, whom now it seems

Your special mandate for the state affairs Hath hither brought. ALL We are very sorry for’t. DUKE 75

[to OTHELLO]

What in your own part can you say

to this? BRABANTIO Nothing, but this is so. OTHELLO Most potent, grave, and reverend signors, My very noble and approved good masters: That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter It is most true; true I have married her.

80

85

The very head and front° of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude® am I in my speech And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith? Till now some nine moons wasted,° they have used Their dearest® action in the tented field;

And little of this great world can I speak More than pertains to feats of broils° and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause 9. That it (my grief) can incorporate other sorrows without being affected.

height and breadth b

unpolished

strength nine months ago most valued

combats

1. Le., you yourself shall interpret the law as you see fit, even if my own son was the one you accuse.

OTHEREORIeS

90

95

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round? unvarnished tale deliver, Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms, What conjuration and what mighty magic— For such proceeding I am charged withal°— I won his daughter. BRABANTIO A maiden never bold; Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion Blushed at herself? and she—in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit,° everything—

100

|

817

plain

with

reputation

To fall in love with what she feared to look on? It is a judgment maimed and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must°® be driven

(we therefore) must

To find out practices of cunning hell Why this should be. I therefore vouch again That with some mixtures powerful o’er the blood,° 105

Or with some dram conjured? to this effect, He wrought upon her. DUKE To vouch this is no proof, Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him.?

110

SENATOR

115

Did you by indirect and forced courses° Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections? Or came it by request and such fair question® As soul to soul affordeth? OTHELLO I do beseech you Send for the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father. If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life.

120

125

passions

enchanted dose

But, Othello, speak;

DUKE [to OFFICERS]

means conversation

Fetch Desdemona hither.

OTHELLO Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place. Exit [1AGo and| two or three |attendants]. And till she come, as truly as to heaven sins of passion I do confess the vices of my blood,° So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love And she in mine. DUKE Say it, Othello. OTHELLO

Her father loved me, oft invited me,

2. “Her... herself”: she blushed at herself at the slightest provocation. 3. “Without... him”: without fuller and more

direct testimony than mere appearances and conjecture based on currently popular beliefs against him.

818

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Still® questioned me the story of my life

constantly

From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes

130

That I have past. I ran it through, even from my boyish days To th’very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,°

135

Of moving accidents® by flood and field, Of hair-breadth scapes i’th’ imminent-deadly breach,* Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance? in my traveler’s history; Wherein of antars° vast and deserts idle,

140

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint® to speak—such was my process® —

events

events

conduct caves

occasion /story

And of the cannibals that each other eat,

145

150

The anthropophagi,’ and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline, But still the house affairs would draw her thence, Which ever as° she could with haste dispatch She’d come again and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse; which I, observing, Took once a pliant® hour and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,° Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively.° I did consent

wi wi

160

165

whenever convenient relate continuously

And often did beguile her of her tears When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffered. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of kisses;® She swore in faith ‘twas strange, ‘twas passing® strange, "Iwas pitiful, ‘twas wondrous pitiful. She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished That heaven had made her such a man.’ She thanked me And bade me, if Ihad a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake. She loved me for the dangers I had past, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used.

exceptionally

Here comes the lady; let her witness it. Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, [and] attendants.

4. In the immediately life-threatening gaps in a fortification. 5. Man-eaters. The term is from the ancient Roman writer Pliny the Elder. Shakespeare was also indebted to the travel literature of the Middle Ages (The Travels of Sir John Mandeville) and the

Renaissance (Hakluyt’s Principal Navigations, among others). 6. F reads “kisses,” Q “sighs.” It is hard to explain “kisses” as a textual error. 7. Made such a man for her; made her into such aman.

OTMESEOM

170

175

3S

|

819

DUKE I think this tale would win my daughter too. Good Brabantio, take up this mangled matter at the best.°

make the best of this

Men do their broken weapons rather use, Than their bare hands. BRABANTIO I pray you hear her speak. If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head if my bad blame Light on the man. Come hither, gentle mistress. Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience? DESDEMONA My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn® me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband; And so much duty as my mother showed To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge? that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord. BRABANTIO God be with you; I have done. Please it® your grace, on to the state affairs; I had rather to adopt a child than get? it. Come hither, Moor. I here do give thee that° with all my heart Which, but® thou hast already, with all my heart

teach

assert

ifit pleases beget that which except that

I would keep from thee. [to DEsDEMONA| For your sake,

jewel, I am glad at soul | have no other child, For thy escape would teach me tyranny To hang clogs® on them. I have done, my lord. DUKE Let me speak like yourself and lay a sentence® Which, as a grise® or step, may help these lovers Into your favor. When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.’ To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

draw a moral step

What cannot be preserved, when fortune takes,

Patience her injury a mockery makes.! The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless°® grief. BRABANTIO So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile:

pointless

We lose it not, so long as we can smile.

8. Blocks of wood tied to criminals’ legs to keep them from escaping. 9. By seeing those things come to pass that caused grief in anticipation. The duke paints the

moral in rhyming couplets, to which Brabantio replies in kind. 1. Patience laughs at what cannot be helped (and thus reduces the “injury”).

820

210

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

saying; judgment He bears the sentence® well that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears. But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. both sweet and bitter These sentences, to sugar or to gall,° Being strong on both sides, are equivocal. But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was piercéd? through the ear. I humbly beseech you proceed to th’affairs of state. DUKE The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you; and though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency,°? yet opinion, a more sovereign misknown ability tress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you.? You must therefore be content to slubber® the gloss of your soil

new fortunes with this more stubborn® and boisterous

tw iS}wit

rougher

expedition. OTHELLO

The tyrant custom, most grave senators,

Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven® bed of down. I do agnize® A natural and prompt alacrity

230

I find in hardness,° and do undertake This present wars against the Ottomites.

hardship

Most humbly, therefore, bending to your state,° I crave fit disposition for my wife,

authority

Due reference of place, and exhibition,’

tw ey)wi

With such accommodation and besort°® As levels with her breeding. DUKE Why, at her father’s. BRABANTIO OTHELLO Nor I.

DESDEMONA 240

sifted / acknowledge

suitable attendance

I will not have it so.

Nor would I there reside,

To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding? lend your prosperous? ear, And let me find a charter® in your voice T’assist my simpleness. DUKE What would you, Desdemona? DESDEMONA That I love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes? May trumpet to the world. My heart’s subdued Even to the very quality® of my lord.

proposal / receptive an authorization

I saw Othello’s visage in his mind,

And to his honors and his valiant parts° Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate; 2. Surgically lanced (and presumably cured). 3. “Opinion... you”; public opinion, which determines what gets done, finds greater security with you. 4.

Proper

accommodation

and

maintenance.

qualities

5. My outright defiance of custom. 6. Essential nature. In the Quarto, Desdemona says that her heart is subdued to Othello’s “utmost pleasure.”

OTHERLORMES

So that, dear lords, if Ibe left behind, A moth of peace, and he go to the war, The rites° for why I love him are bereft me, And | a heavy interim shall support By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

255

OTHELLO

[to the DUKE]

Let her have your voice.

sexual passion personal; fitting

But to be free°® and bounteous to her mind;

liberal

And heaven defend your good souls that you think I will your serious and great business scant When she is with me. No, when light-winged toys° Of feathered Cupid seel® with wanton dullness My speculative and officed instruments,® That my disports°® corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,

265

Nw ~ISo

diversions blind sexual pleasures

And all indign® and base adversities

275

undignified

Make head against my estimation.’ DUKE Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going. Th’affair cries haste, And speed must answer it. SENATOR You must away tonight. DESDEMONA _ Tonight, my lord? DUKE This night.! OTHELLO With all my heart. DUKE At nine i’th’ morning here we'll meet again. Othello, leave some officer behind, And he shall our commission bring to you, And such things else of quality and respect°

weight and importance

As doth import® you.

285

821

(of love); (of war?)

Vouch with me, heaven, | therefor beg it not To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat® (the young affects’ In me defunct) and proper? satisfaction,

260

|

concern

OTHELLO So please your grace, my ancient; A man he is of honesty’ and trust. To his conveyance I assign my wife, With what else needful your good grace shall think To be sent after me. DUKE Let it be so. Good night to every one. [to BRABANTIO] And, noble signor, If virtue no delighted® beauty lack,

delightful

Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. [Exit DUKE.|

SENATOR

Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona well.

Look to her,° Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: BRABANTIO She has deceived her father, and may thee. 7. 8. 9. 1.

The youthful desires. My duty-bound faculties of sense. Raise an army against my good reputation.

This exchange between Desdemona and the

watch her carefully

; Duke is only in Q. 2. The first of many references to lago’s “honesty.”

822

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Exeunt [BRABANTIO, CASSIO, SENATORS, and OFFICERS.|

OTHELLO My life upon her faith!—Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee. I prithee let thy wife attend on her, And bring them after in the best advantage.’ Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour

Of love, of worldly matter and direction To spend with thee. We must obey the time. 300

Exeunt [OTHELLO the] Moor and DESDEMONA. RODERIGO Lago? 1AGoO. What say’st thou, noble heart? RODERIGO

What will I do, think’st thou?

1aGo. Why, go to bed and sleep. RODERIGO I will incontinently° drown myself. 305

immediately

1aco_If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou

silly gentleman? RODERIGO _ It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and

310

320

330

then have we a prescription* to die when death is our physician. 14Go_O villainous!° I have looked upon the world for four times seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen,° I would change my humanity with a baboon. RODERIGO What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue® to amend it. 1AGo. Virtue? A fig!® Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners. So that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop® and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender? of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness° or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority® of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise® another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. But we have reason to cool our raging motions,° our carnal stings or unbitted° lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion.° RODERIGO It cannot be. 1AGO_ It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of

absurd

woman

native ability (an obscenity)

mint herb kind

noncultivation

ability to decide counterweigh appetites unrestrained

offshoot

the will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown cats and

blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable® toughness. I could never better stead® thee than now. Put money in thy purse. Follow thou the wars; defeat thy 3. And bring them along at the most favorable moment.

4. Right; doctor’s order.

durable help

OTH

340

345

f 350

355

360

favor with an usurped beard.’ I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona should continue her love to the Moor—put money in thy purse— nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement® in her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration’— put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills—fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts® shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.? She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. Therefore, put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs° damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning—make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony® and a frail vow betwixt an erring! barbarian and a super-subtle°® Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her. Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself; it is clean out of the way.° Seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing® thy joy than to be drowned and go without her. RODERIGO Wilt thou be fast°® to my hopes, if |depend on the issue?° 1aGo. Thou art sure of me—go make money. I have told thee often, and I retell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My cause is hearted;° thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive? in our revenge against him. If thou canst cuckold

| 365

370

| |

|380

EBEUO

Rs

|

823

if you must

holy rite highly sensitive

of no use encompassing

duty-bound outcome

heartfelt joined

him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a

sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse,° go, provide thy money. We will have more of this tomorrow. Adieu. RODERIGO Where shall we meet i’th’ morning? taco. At my lodging. RODERIGO I'll be with thee betimes.° 1aGo. Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? RODERIGO [’II sell all my land. Exit. 1aGo. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse; For I mine own gained knowledge should profane If | would time expend with such a snipe® But for my sport and profit. | hate the Moor, And it is thought abroad? that ‘twixt my sheets H’as done my office. I know not if’t be true, But I for mere suspicion in that kind Will do° as if for surety. He holds° me well; The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassio’s a proper® man. Let me see now...

go (to arms)

early

fool rumored

act / esteems

handsome

|

|

5. 6. 7. 8.

Disguise your appearance with a fake beard. An abruptly begun affair. A correspondingly abrupt separation. A sweet, exotic fruit, perhaps carob or honey-

suckle. 9. Colocynth, a purgative—one of lago’s many references to the digestive tract. 1. A wandering.

824

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

To get his place and to plume up® my will In double knavery—how? how? Let’s see . .

gratify

After some time, to abuse Othello’s ears

That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose® To be suspected, framed® to make women false. The Moor is of a free® and open nature 390

manner formed liberal

That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,

And will as tenderly® be led by th’nose As asses are. . I have’t! It is engendered! Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.

easily

Exit.

2:1 Enter MONTANO and two GENTLEMEN

[one above].

MONTANO What from the cape can you discern at sea? FIRST GENTLEMAN Nothing at all; it is a high-wrought flood.° I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the main® Descry? a sail. MONTANO Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements If it hath ruffianed® so upon the sea,

very rough sea sea discern

What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,

Can hold the mortise?! What shall we hear of this? SECOND GENTLEMAN A segregation® of the Turkish fleet: For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow* seems to pelt the clouds; The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,

separation

Seems to cast water on the burning Bear

And quench the guards of th’ever-fixéd pole. I never did like molestation view°

see such a tumult

On the enchafed? flood.

MONTANO

raging

If that the Turkish fleet

Be not ensheltered and embayed, they are drowned;

It is impossible to bear it out. 20

Enter a THIRD GENTLEMAN. THIRD GENTLEMAN News, lads! Our wars are done.

The desperate tempest hath so banged the Turks That their designment® halts. A noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance® On most part of their fleet. MONTANO How? Is this true? 2. “He” is Cassio (as in line 387), but “his” refers to Othello.

2.1 Location: A seaport in Cyprus; outdoors near the harbor. 1. “What... mortise”: what ship (with “ribs of oak”) can hold its joints (“mortise”) together when “mountains” of water pour on it?

plan damage

2. The surging ocean, rebuked (“chidden”) by the wind (or repulsed by the land).

3. The “burning Bear” is the constellation Ursa Minor; the “guards” are probably two stars in the constellation that point in a line to the polestar, also in Ursa Minor.

ORHEELO

25

291

|

825

THIRD GENTLEMAN The ship is here put in, A Veronnesa.* Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, Is come on shore; the Moor himself at sea,

30

35

40

And is in full commission here for Cyprus. MONTANO I am glad on't—'tis a worthy governor. THIRD GENTLEMAN _ But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly° And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted With foul and violent tempest. MONTANO Pray heavens he be, For I have served him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Let’s to the seaside—ho!— As well to see the vessel that’s come in As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main and th’aerial blue An indistinct regard.’

seriously

THIRD GENTLEMAN Come, let’s do so; For every minute is expectancy

Of more arrivance. cassio.

Enter CASSIO. Thanks, you the valiant of the warlike isle,

That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens 45

Give him defense against the elements,

For I have lost him on a dangerous sea. MONTANO Is he well shipped? cassio_ His bark is stoutly timbered, and his pilot Of very expert and approved allowance;°

known ability

Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,’ Stand in bold cure.°

voices [within]

not excessive likely to be rewarded

A sail! a sail! a sail!

cassio What noise? GENTLEMAN The town is empty; on the brow o'th’ sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry “A sail!” cassio My hopes do shape him for® the governor.

make it out to be

[A shot.]

SECOND GENTLEMAN

They do discharge their shot of

courtesy—

Our friends, at least.

60

CASSIO I pray you, sir, go forth And give us truth who ’tis that is arrived. SECOND GENTLEMAN I shall. Exit; MONTANO But, good lieutenant, is your general wived? cassio_ Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid That paragons° description and wild fame, 4. Meaning unclear: either a ship originally from Verona, though now used by the Venetians; or perhaps a particular kind of ship.

stands above

5. “Even... regard”: until we can’t distinguish sea from sky.

826

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

One that excels the quirks of blazoning® pens, And in th’essential vesture of creation Does tire the engineer.®

praise-giving

Enter SECOND GENTLEMAN. 65

80

How now? Who has put in? SECOND GENTLEMAN _ ‘Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. cassio_ He's had most favorable and happy speed: Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The guttered® rocks and congregated® sands, jagged / accumulated Traitors ensteeped® to enclog the guiltless keel, underwater As having sense of beauty, do omit® forgo Their mortal® natures, letting go safely by deadly The divine Desdemona. MONTANO What is she? cassio_ She that I spake of, our great captain’s captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts A senight’s speed.’ Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, Make love’s quick pants in Desdemona’s arms, Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits, And bring all Cyprus comfort! Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and EMILIA. O, behold!

85

The riches of the ship is come on shore. You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven Before, behind thee, and on every hand

90

Enwheel thee round. DESDEMONA I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? cassio He is not yet arrived, nor know I aught But that he’s well and will be shortly here. DESDEMONA_O, but I fear!—How lost you company? cassio_ The great contention of sea and skies Parted our fellowship. VOICES within A sail! a sail! [A shot.] CASSIO But hark—a sail. GENTLEMAN They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend. CASSIO See for the news. [Exit GENTLEMAN. | Good ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress. [Kisses EMILIA.]

6. “In... engineer”: whose natural beauty exhausts

the poet’s capacity to invent praise.

7. Whose arrival predates our expectations by a

week,

ORMEVOR2 a

100

110

S27

Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners. "Tis my breeding That gives me this bold show of courtesy. 1AGO_ Sir, would she give you so much of her lips As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, You would have enough. DESDEMONA Alas, she has no speech.® 1AGO_

105

|

In faith, too much:

I find it still? when I have leave to sleep. Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart? And chides with thinking. EMILIA You have little cause to say so. IAGO Come on! come on! You are pictures! out of door, Bells° in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens, Saints® in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your huswifery, and huswives? in your beds.

always

1.€., Noisy i.e., martyrs

DESDEMONA _ O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

1AGO_ Nay, it is true, or else | am a Turk: You rise to play and go to bed to work. EMILIA You shall not write my praise. No, let me not. DESDEMONA What wouldst write of me, if thou shouldst praise me? IAGO

1AGo_O, gentle lady, do not put me to't, For I am nothing if not critical. DESDEMONA Come on, assay.° There’s one gone to the essay, try harbor? 1AGO. Ay, madam. DESDEMONA | am not merry, but I do beguile® disguise The thing I am° by seeming otherwise.— (worried for Othello) Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

I am about it, but indeed my invention Comes from my pate as birdlime? does from frieze.° It plucks out brains and all. But my muse labors,°

IAGO

coarse wool cloth (in childbirth)

And thus she is delivered: “If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, The one’s for use, the other useth it.”

DESDEMONA

Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

“If she be black,* and thereto have a wit, She’ll find a white that shall her blackness fit.”° DESDEMONA Worse and worse! IAGO

8. Perhaps both a defense of Emilia and a prod for her to speak. 9. She keeps her (critical) thoughts to herself.

1. Models of silent propriety. In this speech lago shifts from Emilia to women generally. 2. Pronounced hussies and thus carrying opposed suggestions: wanton; businesslike, charily husbanding sexual favors (cf. line 115). “Players in

your huswifery”: deceptive in managing household

expenses. 3. Sticky substance used to trap small birds. 4. L.e., intelligence makes use of beauty. 5. Dark-haired or dark-complexioned. 6. With sexual double entendre. “White”: fairskinned person (with a pun on wight, “person”).

828

135

140

155

160

165

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

EMILIA How if fair and foolish? 1Aco. “She never yet was foolish that was fair, For even her folly® helped her to an heir.” foolishness; lechery DESDEMONA These are old fond? paradoxes, to make fools foolish laugh i’th’ alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that’s foul? and foolish? 1AGo.

145

|

ugly

_“There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto,°

to boot

But does foul? pranks which fair and wise ones do.” lascivious DESDEMONA _O, heavy ignorance! Thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed? One that in the authority of her merit did justly put on the vouch’ of very malice itself. 1aGo. “She that was ever fair, and never proud, Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud, Never lacked gold, and yet went never gay,° lavishly clothed Fled from her wish, and yet said “now I may”;$ She that, being angered, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay° and her displeasure fly; sense of injury end She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cod’s head for the salmon’s tail;? She that could think, and ne’er disclose her mind,

See suitors following, and not look behind: She was a wight (if ever such wights were) . . ” DESDEMONA To do what? 1aco. “To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.” ] DESDEMONA_ O, most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? Is he not a most profane and liberal° counselor? cassio_ He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in® the soldier than in the scholar. 1aGO

[aside]

He takes her by the palm. Ay, well said,°

whisper! With as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do! I will gyve° thee in thine own courtship.°—You say true, ’tis so indeed.—If such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft,? which now again you are most apt to play the sir° in. Very good! well kissed and excellent courtesy!—’Tis so indeed.—Yet again, your fingers to your lips? Would they were clyster pipes® for your sake! Trumpets within The Moor! I know his trumpet. cassio_ "Tis truly so. DESDEMONA _Let’s meet him and receive him.

7. Compel the approval. 8. Voluntarily withstood temptation even when given the choice. 9. To make an unworthy exchange.

outspoken

as well done

shackle courtliness

gentleman

enema tubes

1. Le., to breast-feed babies and keep track of trivial domestic goods. 2. It would have been better for you not to have blown her so many kisses.

OTH

cCASsIO.

180

190

195

271

|

829

Lo, where he comes.

Enter OTHELLO and attendants. OTHELLO O, my fair warrior! DESDEMONA My dear Othello! OTHELLO

185

BELO

It gives me wonder great as my content

To see you here before me. O! my soul’s joy, If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have wakened death, And let the laboring bark° climb hills of seas Olympus-high,? and duck again as low As hell’s from heaven! If it were now to die,* "Twere now to be most happy; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds® in unknown fate.° DESDEMONA The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase Even as our days do grow. OTHELLO Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak enough of this content;

small ship

will follow /future

It stops me here; it is too much ofjoy.

And this, and this—

They kiss. the greatest discords be That e’er our hearts shall make! 1AGO [aside]

O, you are well tuned now;

But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,’ As honest as I am. 200

OTHELLO Come, let us to the castle. News, friends; our wars are done. The Turks are drowned.

How does my old acquaintance of this isle?— Honey, you shall be well desired? in Cyprus;

welcomed

I have found great love amongst them. O, my sweet, 205

I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers.° Bring thou the master? to the citadel; He is a good one, and his worthiness Does challenge? much respect. Come, Desdemona; Once more well met at Cyprus. Exit OTHELLO and DESDEMONA RODERIGO].

1AGO [to a departing attendant]

trunks captain deserve

[and all but 1aco and

Do thou meet me pres-

ently at the harbor. [to RoDERIGO] Come hither. If thou

215

be’st valiant—as they say base® men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them—list° me. The lieutenant tonight watches on the

3. Mount Olympus, home of the Greek gods and hence too high for mortals. 4. To perish, but also evoking the very common

lowly born listen to

sense “to have an orgasm.” 5. I'll untune (by loosening) the “pegs” that hold the strings of the musical instrument taut.

830

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

court of guard.° First I must tell thee this: Desdemona is directly in love with him. RODERIGO With him? Why, ’tis not possible. 1AGO___Lay thy finger thus,° and let thy soul be instructed.

be silent

Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,

tw wv wi

but® for bragging and telling her fantastical lies. To love him still for prating, let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be—again to enflame it, and to give satiety a fresh appetite—loveliness in favor,° sympathy in years, manners, and beauties, all which the Moor is defective in. Now for want of these required conveniences,’

235

looks

will find itself

compatibilities

abused,° begin to heave the gorge,’ disrelish and abhor the Moor. Very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted—as it is a most pregnant® and unforced position—who stands so eminent in the degree of® this fortune as Cassio

revolted

does?—a

her delicate tenderness

only

obvious; (sexual)

knave very voluble,° no further conscionable?

facile

than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming for the better compass® of his salt! and most hidden loose affection. Why none! why none! A slipper®

achievement slippery

and subtle knave, a finder of occasion, that has an eye 240

can stamp and counterfeit advantages,” though true advantage never present itself. A devilish knave! Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly’? and green minds look after. A pestilent® complete knave! And the woman hath found him already. RODERIGO

tw Wwo

wantonness

damnably

I cannot believe that in her; she’s full of most

blessed condition. 1AGO__ Blessed fig’s-end!° The wine she drinks is made of grapes. If she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding!° Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? Didst not mark

(obscene) sausage

that? RODERIGO

Yes, that I did, but that was but courtesy.

1AGO__Lechery, by this hand! an index and obscure? prologue to the history® of lust and foul thoughts.* They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo: when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise,* th’incorporate® conclusion.

encoded story

in the flesh

6. l.e., Cassio is in charge of the watch at the

opportunities.

guardhouse. 7. Feel nausea. 8. As next in line for. 9. No more ethical. 1. Lewd. 2. Who can (like a counterfeiter) create his own

of contents. 4. When these intimacies have cleared the way, the main event follows close behind. Here, the

3. The analogy is to a dirty book. “Index”: table

analogy is to an official procession.

ORMEREOP

Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you tonight. For the command, I'll lay’t upon you.’ Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you. Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud or tainting? his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favorably minister.° RODERIGO Well. 1AGO_ Sir, he’s rash and very sudden in choler, and haply° may strike at you. Provoke him that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again® but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer? them, and the impediment most profitably removed without the which there were no expectation of

2

|

831

insulting

provide perhaps

promote

our prosperity.

RODERIGO

I will do this if you can bring it to any oppor-

tunity.

1AGO_ | warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must fetch his necessaries’ ashore. Farewell. RODERIGO Adieu. BRit. 1aGO. That Cassio loves her, I do well believ't; That she loves him, ‘tis apt and of great credit.° likely and believable 285

The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,

And I dare think he’ll prove to Desdemona A most dear? husband. Now I do love her too,

affectionate; costly

Not out of absolute lust (though peradventure I stand accountant? for as great a sin),

accountable

But partly led to diet® my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leaped into my seat°—the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards,° And nothing can or shall content my soul

feed

slept with my wife innards

Till I am evened with him, wife for wife;

Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure; which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,* I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,° Abuse? him to the Moor in the rank garb°® (For I fear Cassio with my nightcap? too),

at my mercy

slander /gross manner (as sexual rival)

Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me

For making him egregiously an ass 5. Stand watch tonight. I'll see that you receive

8. “If... on”: if Roderigo, whom I follow (?), har-

orders.

ness

6. Who will not be adequately appeased. 7. Othello’s possessions.

incited.

(?), is successfully

set on

the hunt

when

832

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

And practicing upon® his peace and quiet Even to madness. "Tis here,° but yet confused; Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used.

undermining i.e., my plan is here Exit.

22

Enter OTHELLO’s HERALD with a proclamation. [reads] “It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that upon certain tidings now arrived importing the mere perdition® of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph—some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addition® leads him. For besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial.” So much was his plea-

HERALD

5

sure should be proclaimed. All offices® are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! Eexat.

10

entire loss

inclination

storehouses

Pes Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and attendants.

OTHELLO Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight. Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop,°

5

Not to outsport® discretion. cassio_ Iago hath direction what to do; But notwithstanding, with my personal eye

self-restraint pass the limits of

Will I look to’t. OTHELLO lago is most honest. Michael, goodnight. Tomorrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you.—Come, my dear love. The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue,

10

That profit’s yet to come ‘tween me and you.! Goodnight.

cassio

15

Exit [OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and attendants]. Enter 1AGO. Welcome, lago; we must to the watch.

1AGO_ Not this hour, lieutenant; ’tis not yet ten o’th’ clock. Our general cast° us thus early for the love of his Desdemona, who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for

dismissed

Jove.

cassio_ 20

She’s a most exquisite lady.

1AGo” And, I'll warrant her, full of game. CASsiO. Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate creature.

1aGo_

What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley°

(military) call

to provocation.

cassio_ 2.2

An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right modest.

Location: A street in Cyprus.

2.3 Location: The citadel at Cyprus.

1. Le., we haven't yet consummated our marriage.

OTHELOw2

25

30

3

|

833

taGO-_ And when she speaks, is it not an alarum? to love? a call (to arms) cassio_ She is indeed perfection. 1AGO_ Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup® of wine, and here without are a brace® of |two quarts / pair Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure? to the health of black Othello. cassio_ Not tonight, good Iago. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. 1AGO_O,

they are our friends; but one cup; I’ll drink for

you. 35

40

45

50

cassio_

I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was

craftily qualified® too; and behold what innovation? it makes here. | am unfortunate in the infirmity and dare not task my weakness with any more. 1sGO. What, man! "Tis a night of revels—the gallants desire it. cassio. Where are they? Here at the door; I pray you call them in. 1AGO Exit. cassio_ I'll do’t, but it dislikes me.° 1aco_ If Ican fasten but one cup upon him With that which he hath drunk tonight already, He'll be as full of quarrel and offense As my young mistress’ dog. Now my sick fool, Roderigo, Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath tonight caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch.* Three else of Cyprus (noble swelling® spirits, That hold their honors in a wary distance,” The very elements? of this warlike isle) Have I tonight flustered with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunkards Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. But here they come. Enter CASSIO, MONTANO, and GENTLEMEN

60

well diluted

I don't like it

proud typical residents

[with wine].

If consequence do but approve my dream,° My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.° cassio_ ’Fore God, they have given me a rouse? already. MONTANO Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as [am a soldier. IAGO

current full draft

Some wine, ho!

[Sings] And let me the cannikin® clink, clink, 65

drinking vessel

And let me the cannikin clink. A soldier’s a man,

O man’s life’s but a span, 2. Would like to drink. 3. Disorder. 4. “Caroused ... watch”: consumed drink to the bottom of the tankard; and he’s assigned guard

duty. 5. Who are touchy about their honor. 6. If events turn out as I hope.

834

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Why then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys! 70

cassio_

1AGO__I

’Fore God, an excellent song!

learned it in England, where indeed they are most

potent in potting.’ Your Dane, your German, and your

I vy

80

swag®-bellied Hollander—drink, ho!—are nothing to your English. cassio_ Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking? taco. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almaine.° He gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle® can be

filled. cassio_To the health of our general! MONTANO I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice. 1AGO. O sweet England!

hanging

German tankard

8

[Sings]

King Stephen was and-a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown;?

90

He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he called the tailor lown.° lout He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree; "Tis pride® that pulls the country down, ostentatious clothing And take thy auld cloak about thee. Some wine, ho! cassio_ ‘Fore God, this is a more exquisite song than the other. 1AGo. Will you hear’t again? cassio_ No, for | hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God’s above all, and there

100

be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved, ! 1AGO__ It’s true, good lieutenant. cassio_ For mine own part—no offense to the general, nor any man of quality°—I hope to be saved. 1AGO.

105

rank

And so do | too, lieutenant.

cassio_ Ay; but by your leave, not before me. The lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let’s have no more of this. Let’s to our affairs. God forgive us our sins. Gentlemen, let’s look to our business. Do not think, gentle-

110

men, | am drunk. This is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left. | am not drunk now. I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough. GENTLEMAN | Excellent well.

7. Most adept at drinking. 8. Match your drinking, 9. A coin (worth 60 pence). |. Referring to the doctrine

of predestination,

the belief held by Calvinist Protestants that some souls are destined from all eternity to be saved and others to be damned.

OPH

EELO

R273

|

835

cassio Why, very well then. You must not think, then, that | am drunk. Exit. MONTANO ‘To th’platform, masters; come, let’s set the watch. i]

5

120

125

[Exeunt some GENTLEMEN. |

IAGO [to MONTANO] You see this fellow that is gone before: He’s a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction. And do but see his vice: "Tis to his virtue a just equinox,° The one as long as th’other. ’Tis pity of him; I fear the trust Othello puts him in On some odd time of his infirmity Will shake this island. MONTANO But is he often thus? 1AGO_ Tis evermore his prologue to his sleep. He'll watch the horologe a double set? If drink rock not his cradle. MONTANO It were well The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature

of equal size

Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio And looks not on his evils. Is not this true? 130

Enter RODERIGO. 1AGO [aside] How now, Roderigo?

I pray you after the lieutenant—go! Exit RODERIGO. MONTANO. And ‘tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft° infirmity. 135

ingrained

It were an honest action to say so

To the Moor. IAGO Not I, for this fair island. I do love Cassio well and would do much To cure him of this evil. voices [within] Help, help! But hark, what noise? Enter CASSIO, pursuing RODERIGO. 140

cassio MONTANO

145

'Swounds, you rogue! you rascal! What’s the matter, lieutenant?

cassio A knave teach me my duty? I'll beat the knave into a twiggen® bottle. RODERIGO Beat me? cassio_ Dost thou prate, rogue? [Attacks RODERIGO.| MONTANO Nay, good lieutenant! I pray you, sir, hold your hand. cassio_ Let me go, sir, or I’ll knock you o'er the mazzard.° MONTANO Come, come; you're drunk! cassio.

Drunk?

2. He’ll stay up twice around the clock.

wicker-cased

head

[cassio and MONTANO fight.|

3. The offstage shouts for help are only in Q.

836

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

1AGO [aside to RODERIGO] mutiny.

Away, I say! Go out and cry a [Exit RODERIGO.|

155

Nay, good lieutenant! God’s will, gentlemen! Help ho! Lieutenant! Sir—Montano—Sir! Help, masters! Here’s a goodly watch indeed! A bell rung. Who's that which rings the bell? Diablo,° ho!

the devil

The town will rise. God’s will, lieutenant, hold!

You'll be ashamed forever. Enter OTHELLO and attendants. OTHELLO What is the matter here? 160

165

MONTANO ’Swounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to th’death. [Attacks cassio] He dies.

OTHELLO Hold, for your lives! 1aGo__ Hold, ho! Lieutenant—Sir—Montano—gentlemen! Have you forgot all place of sense and duty? Hold! The general speaks to you. Hold, for shame! OTHELLO Why, how now, ho? From whence ariseth this? Are we turned Turks? and to ourselves do that Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?°

(by raising a storm)

For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl! 170

He that stirs next, to carve for his own rage,°

175

Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell—it frights the isle From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving, Speak. Who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.

draw a sword in anger

1AGo__I do not know. Friends all, but now, even now,

180

185

In quarter® and in terms like bride and groom under control Divesting them? for bed; and then, but now, getting undressed As if some planet°® had unwitted men, astrological influence Swords out and tilting one at other’s breasts In opposition bloody. I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds,° silly quarrel And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it. OTHELLO How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? cassio_ I pray you pardon me; | cannot speak. OTHELLO

Worthy Montano, you were wont? to be civil;

were accustomed

The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great 190

In mouths of wisest censure.° What’s the matter,

That you unlace your reputation thus And spend your rich opinion? for the name Of a night brawler? Give me answer to it. MONTANO Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger. Your officer, ago, can inform you—

While I spare speech, which something now offends me+— 4. Somewhat now pains me.

judgment reputation

OTHELLO

200

Of all that I do know; nor know I aught By me that’s said or done amiss this night, Unless self-charity° be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us. OTHELLO

5

|

837

care of oneself

Now, by heaven,

My blood begins my safer guides to rule, And passion, having my best judgment collied,° Assays°® to lead the way. ’Swounds, if I stir Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on; And he that is approved? in this offense, Though he had twinned with me, both at a birth, 210

T2%3

darkened tries

proven guilty

Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,

Yet° wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear, To manage? private and domestic quarrel? In night, and on the court and guard of safety? "Tis monstrous. Iago, who began’t? MONTANO If partially affined,° or leagued in office,

still carry on

biased (for Cassio)

Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. IAGO

Touch

me

not

so near.

I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offense to Michael Cassio; 220

225

230

240

Yet I persuade myself to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him. This it is, general: Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help, And Cassio following him with determined sword To execute upon’ him. Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause; Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamor—as it so fell out— The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot, Outran my purpose; and I returned, the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords And Cassio high in oath, which till tonight I ne’er might say before. When I came back— For this was brief—I found them close together At blow and thrust, even as again they were When yourself did part them. More of this matter cannot I report. But men are men: the best sometimes forget. Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received

From him that fled some strange indignity

5. And at the place where safety and security are at stake (on the night watch).

to attack

838

teaS a

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Which patience could not pass.° OTHELLO I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince® this matter, Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee, But never more be officer of mine.—

let pass minimize

Enter DESDEMONA, attended.

Look if my gentle love be not raised up!— I'll make thee an example.

250

DESDEMONA What is the matter, dear? OTHELLO All’s well, sweeting; Come away to bed. [To MONTANO] Sir, for your hurts

Myself will be your surgeon. Lead him off. [Exeunt attendants with MONTANO.] Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona; ’tis the soldier's life we wirwi

To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. Exeunt [OTHELLO the] Moor, DESDEMONA, and attendants.

260

265

iS)I °o

iS}~I wn

280

1aGo. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? cassio_ Ay, past all surgery. 1aGO. Marry, God forbid! cassio_ Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! taco. As I am an honest man, I had thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition,® oft got without merit and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are more ways to recover the general again. You are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy® than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenseless dog to affright an imperious lion. Sue to® him again, and he’s yours. cassio_ I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? And speak parrot?® And squabble? Swagger? Swear? And discourse fustian® with one’s own shadow? O, thou invisible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil. 1AGO. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

cassio__ I know not. 1AGo__Is't possible? cassio_ I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.? O God! that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away

6. “Cast... policy”: dismissed in anger—a matter of policy (of public example).

artificial notion

petition

rant on nonsense

but not why

290

OTHELLO

2.3

|

839

their brains! that we should with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into beasts! 14GO_ Why, but you are now well enough. How came you thus recovered? cassio_ It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. IAGO Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition

of this country stands, I

could heartily wish this had not befallen; but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. cassio__[ will ask him for my place again. He shall tell me Tam a drunkard. Had I as many mouths as Hydra,’ such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!—O, strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. IAGO Come, come; good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used. Exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. cassio_ I have well approved? it, sir—I drunk? IAGO You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. I tell you what you shall do. Our general’s wife is now the general. I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and devotement?® of her parts® and graces. Confess

yourself freely to her; importune her help to put you in your place again. She is of so free,° so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter,” and my fortunes against any lay° worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. cassio You advise me well. 1AGo_I protest,° in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. cassio_ I think it freely; and betimes°® in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am desperate of my fortunes if they check® me. taco You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch. cassio

7. Amythical serpent with many heads, who grew

observation

generous

wager

insist

early stop

Exit CASSIO.

Good night, honest lago.

1aco’. And what's he then that says I play the villain, When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal° to thinking, and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For ‘tis most easy Th’inclining? Desdemona to subdue

two more when one was cut off.

tested

8. Qualities.

9. Heal with a splint.

wise

well-disposed

840

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

In any honest suit: she’s framed as fruitful®

generous

As the free elements; and then for her To win the Moor, were’t to renounce his baptism,

335

All seals and symbols of redeeméd sin, His soul is so enfettered to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list,

Even as her appetite® shall play the god With his weak function.° How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel° course Directly to his good? Divinity® of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now. For whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I'll pour this pestilence into his ear: That she repeals him? for her body’s lust, And by how much she strives to do him good She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch,! And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all. Enter RODERIGO. How now, Roderigo?

340

345

350

355

RODERIGO

suitable

theology

appeals for him

I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound

that hunts, but one that fills up the cry.° My money is almost spent; I have been tonight exceedingly well cudgeled; and I think the issue will be I shall have so

a pack follower

much? experience for my pains, and so, with no money _ only this much

360

365

wishes faculties

at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice. 1AGO How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know’st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory°® time. gradually unfolding Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, And thou by that small hurt hath cashiered® Cassio. dismissed Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.’ Content thyself awhile. By the Mass,° ’tis morning! (a mild oath) Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Retire thee; go where thou art billeted. Away! I say; thou shalt know more hereafter. Nay, get thee gone! Exit RODERIGO. Two things are to be done: My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress— lll set her on— Myself a while to draw the Moor apart . Black, sticky substance used as a snare. Re »

kes, although others may appear to be prosper-

ing, your plan will be successful soonest because it was set in motion first.

OT MEELOM371

380

And bring him jump° when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife. Ay, that’s the way! Dull not device by coldness and delay.?

|

841

exactly

Exit.

oa

cassio_

Enter CASSIO, MUSICIANS, and CLOWN. Masters, play here—I will content® your pains—

reward

Something that’s brief; and bid “Good morrow, general.”

CLOWN Why, masters, have your instruments Naples, that they speak i’th’ nose thus?! MUSICIAN

been in

How, sir? how?

cLown Are these, I pray you, wind instruments?” MUSICIAN — Ay, marry, are they, sir. cLown _ O, thereby hangs a tail! MUSICIAN Whereby hangs a tale, sir? CLOWN Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, masters, here’s money for you; and the general so likes your music that he desires you for love’s sake to make no more noise with it. MUSICIAN

Well, sir, we will not.

cLown | If you have any music that may not°® be heard, to’t again. But, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care. MUSICIAN 20

30

35

We have none such, sir.

CLOWN Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll away. Go! Vanish into air, away! Exeunt MUSICIANS. cAssio.

25

cannot

Dost thou hear, mine honest friend?

cLown No, I hear not your honest friend: I hear you. cassio_ Prithee keep up thy quillets.* There’s a poor piece of gold for thee. If the gentlewoman that attends the general be stirring, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats her a little favor of speech. Wilt thou do this? cLown She is stirring, sir. If she will stir hither, I shall seem® to notify unto her. cassio_ Do, good my friend. Exit CLOWN. Enter 1AGo In happy time,’ Lago. 1aGo_ You have not been abed then? cassio Why, no; the day had broke before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, to send in to your wife. My suit to her is that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access. IAGO I’ll send her to you presently;° And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business 3. Don't

let sluggishness

and

slowness

to act

weaken the plot.

3.1 Location: Outside Othello and Desdemona’s

room. I. That they sound so nasal; perhaps a reference to venereal disease, often associated with Naples,

arrange

well met

immediately

ora phallic or anal joke.

2. The exchange that follows depends on the con-

_ nections among wind instruments, flatulence, and

“tale/tail.” 3. Pack up your puns.

842

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

May be more free. cassio_ I humbly thank you for’t.

Exit [1AGo].

I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest. Enter EMILIA -

0

45

50

EMILIA Good morrow, good lieutenant. I am sorry For your displeasure, but all will sure® be well. The general and his wife are talking of it, And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity,° and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To bring you in again. CASSIO Yet I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemon alone. EMILIA

surely

well connected

Pray you come in.

I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom’ freely. CASSIO Iam much bound to you. Exeunt.

heart

322

Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and GENTLEMEN OTHELLO These letters give, Iago, to the pilot, And by him do my duties? to the senate. That done, I will be walking on the works;°

Repair® there to me. IAGO Vi

3.3

Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA. DESDEMONA Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. EMILIA Good madam, do. I warrant it grieves my husband As if the cause were his. OO, that’s an honest fellow. Do not doubt,

But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were. CASSIO Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,

He’s never anything but your true servant. 3.2 Location: The citadel. 3.3 Location: The citadel’s garden.

fortifications

come

Well, my good lord; I'll do’t.

OTHELLO This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see’t? GENTLEMAN We'll wait upon your lordship. Exeunt.

DESDEMONA Cassio,

send my respects

OTA

20

EVAL:

DESDEMONA | know’; I thank you. You do love my lord; You have known him long; and be you well assured He shall in strangeness stand no farther off Than in a politic distance.! CASSIO Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and wat'’rish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstances,” That—I being absent, and my place supplied°— My general will forget my love and service. DESDEMONA Do not doubt® that. Before Emilia here, I give thee warrant® of thy place. Assure thee, If Ido vow a friendship, I’ll perform it To the last article. My lord shall never rest: I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;? His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;°

25

t3'53

|

843

filled fear

assurance

confessional

I'll intermingle everything he does With Cassio’s suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio,

For thy solicitor® shall rather die Than give thy cause away.° Enter OTHELLO and 1AGo. EMILIA Madam, here comes my lord. 30

cassio

advocate up

Madam, I'll take my leave.

DESDEMONA Why, stay and hear me speak. cassio Madam, not now: | am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes. DESDEMONA Well, do your discretion. 1aGo._Ha! I like not that.

Exit CASSIO.

OTHELLO What dost thou say? 1aGo_ Nothing, my lord; or if .. . 1 know not what. OTHELLO Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? 1aGo_

40

45

Cassio, my lord? No, sure, | cannot think it

That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing your coming. OTHELLO I do believe ’twas he. DESDEMONA How now, my lord? I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure. OTHELLO Who is't you mean? DESDEMONA Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, accept him now

His present reconciliation take;°

For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,® 50

not knowingly

I have no judgment in an honest face.

1. He will distance himself from you only as much as good diplomacy requires. 2. “Or feed... . circumstances”: or persist based on such unimportant and poor justifications, or

continue by chance. 3. I'll keep him awake until he obeys me, and talk to him beyond his endurance.

844

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

I prithee call him back. OTHELLO DESDEMONA

Went he hence now? Yes, faith; so humbled

That he hath left part of his grief with me To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. OTHELLO

Not now, sweet Desdemon; some other time.

DESDEMONA OTHELLO DESDEMONA

But shall’t be shortly The sooner, sweet, for you. Shall’t be tonight, at supper?

OTHELLO DESDEMONA OTHELLO 60

No, not tonight.

‘Tomorrow dinner® then?

midday meal

I shall not dine at home;

I meet the captains at the citadel. DESDEMONA Why then, tomorrow night, on Tuesday morn, On Tuesday noon or night, on Wednesday morn. I prithee name the time, but let it not

65

a

Exceed three days. In faith, he’s penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason°— Save that, they say, the wars must make example Out of her? best—is not almost a fault T’incur a private check.* When shall he come? Tell me, Othello. | wonder in my soul What you would ask me that I should deny,

normal judgment (war's)

Or stand so mammring® on? What? Michael Cassio,

hesitating

That came a-wooing with you? and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath ta’en your part—to have so much to do To bring him in?° By’r Lady, I could do much>—

into favor

OTHELLO

Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will:

I will deny thee nothing. DESDEMONA Why, this is not a boon; "Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar® profit 80

To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise? and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted. OTHELLO I will deny thee nothing.

particular

balanced judgment

Whereon I do beseech thee grant me this, 85

To leave me but a little to myself. DESDEMONA Shall I deny you? No. Farewell, my lord. OTHELLO

Farewell, my Desdemona; I'll come to thee

straight.° DESDEMONA

immediately

Emilia, come. [to OTHELLO] Be as your

fancies teach® you.

4. Is barely worth even private criticism. 5. Do much to make you regret your reluctance (?).

as your whims lead

OWHEUEO

90

Whate’er you be, I am obedient. Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA. OTHELLO Excellent wretch!° Perdition catch my soul

373

|

845

(affectionate)

But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,

Chaos is come again. 1aGO. My noble lord... OTHELLO What dost thou say, Iago? 1aGo_ Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady, Know of your love? OTHELLO

He did, from first to last.

Why dost thou ask? 1AGO_ But for a satisfaction of my thought, No further harm. OTHELLO Why of thy thought, Iago? 1AGo__I| did not think he had been acquainted with her. OTHELLO O yes, and went between us very oft. 1aGo_ Indeed? OTHELLO Indeed? Ay, indeed. Discern’st thou aught in that? Is he not honest? 14aGo_ Honest, my lord? OTHELLO Honest? Ay, honest. taco. My lord, for aught I know. OTHELLO What dost thou think? 1aGo. Think, my lord? OTHELLO “Think, my lord?” By heaven, thou echo’st me As if there were some monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something: I heard thee say even now thou lik’st not that, When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel,’ Of my whole course of wooing, thou cried’st “Indeed?” And didst contract and purse thy brow together As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit.° If thou dost love me,

in my confidence

thought

Show me thy thought. 1aGo. My lord, you know I love you. OTHELLO

I think thou dost;

And for? I know thou’rt full of love and honesty, And weigh’st thy words before thou giv’st them breath, Therefore these stops® of thine fright me the more: For such things in a false disloyal knave Are tricks of custom;° but in a man that’s just, They're close dilations,° working from the heart That passion cannot rule.° IAGO

For Michael Cassio,

I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

OTHELLO I think so too.

6. Le., involuntary revelations of interior, close-kept secrets.

since

reluctances habitual control

846

130

135

140

145

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

IAGO Men should be what they seem, Or those that be not, would they might seem none.’ OTHELLO Certain, men should be what they seem. taco. Why then, I think Cassio’s an honest man. OTHELLO Nay, yet there’s more in this. I prithee speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. IAGO Good my lord, pardon me. Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to:° Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false— As where’s that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit With meditations lawful?? OTHELLO ‘Thou dost conspire against thy friend,° Iago, If thou but think’st him wronged and mak’st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts. IAGO I do beseech you, Though I perchance am vicious® in my guess (As I confess it is my nature’s plague To spy into abuses, and oft myjealousy Shapes faults that are not), that your wisdom

(Othello)

mistaken

From one that so imperfectly conceits®

N55)

Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering® and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet, nor your good,

imagines

incoherent

Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,

To let you know my thoughts. OTHELLO What dost thou mean? 14GO_ Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls; 160

Who steals my purse steals trash: ‘tis something, nothing; "Twas mine, ‘tis his, and has been slave to thousands.

165

But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. OTHELLO By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts! 1AGO_ You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody. OTHELLO Ha? IAGO

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!

7. “Or... none”: if only those who are not what they seem didn’t seem to be what they are not.

8. le., | am not obligated to reveal my inner thoughts, something about which even slaves have a choice.

9. “Uncleanly ... lawful”:

illegitimate

thoughts

meet in court (“leets”) from time to time (on “law-

days”) and debate (in court “sessions”) with legitimate ones.

OTHMEVEO

170

175

180

185

It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.! That cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;? But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes yet doubts, suspects yet strongly loves! OTHELLO O misery! 14GO Poor and content is rich, and rich enough, But riches fineless° is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy! OTHELLO Why, why is this? Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon® With fresh suspicions? No! To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.° Exchange me for a goat When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blowed® surmises, Matching thy inference. ’Tis not to make me jealous

F335

|

847

boundless

i.e., to renew endlessly to be finally settled inflated and blown up

To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances: Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.

Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 190

The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt,° For she had eyes and chose me. No, Iago, I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;

orfear of her betrayal

And on the proof there is no more but this: Away at once with love or jealousy! 195

200

2205

IAGO

Iam glad of this; for now I shall have reason

To show the love and duty that I bear you With franker spirit. Therefore, as | am bound, Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; Wear your eyes thus: not jealous, nor secure. I would not have your free and noble nature Out of self-bounty be abused.? Look to’. I know our country disposition well: In Venice they do let God see the pranks They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience

Is not to leave’t undone, but keep’t unknown. OTHELLO Dost thou say so? 1aGo She did deceive her father, marrying you, And when she seemed to shake, and fear your looks, She loved them most. OTHELLO

And so she did.

1. Le., tortures, as it consumes, the heart of the

jealous person.

2. Who, knowing it is his fate to be cuckolded,

doesn’t love his wife.

;

3. Be deceived on account of your own goodness.

848

210

nN

wa

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

IAGO Why, go to® then. She that, so young, could give out such a seeming To seel her father’s eyes up close as oak,* He thought ’twas witchcraft . . . ; but 1am much to blame. I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much loving you. OTHELLO I am bound to thee forever. 1aGo_ I see this hath a little dashed your spirits. OTHELLO IAGO

that’s it

Not a jot, not ajot. I’faith, I fear it has.

I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved. 220

I am to pray you not to strain my speech

To grosser issues° nor to larger reach Than to suspicion. OTHELLO | will not. IAGO 225

Should you do so, my lord,

My speech should fall into such vile success Which my thoughts aimed not. Cassio’s my worthy friend— My lord, I see you're moved. OTHELLO

235

240

greater conclusions

No, not much moved;

I do not think but Desdemona’s honest. 1aGO__ Long live she so! and long live you to think so! OTHELLO And yet how nature, erring from itself— 1AGo_ Ay, there’s the point! as to be bold with you, Not to affect® many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto we see in all things nature tends— Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank, Foul disproportions, thoughts unnatural. But, pardon me, I do not in position® Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear Her will,’ recoiling® to her better judgment, May fall to match you with her country forms,’ And happily® repent. OTHELLO

desire

argument

desire / submitting perhaps

Farewell, farewell.

If more thou dost perceive, Set on thy wife to observe. 1AGO [going] My lord, I take OTHELLO Why did I marry?

let me know more. Leave me, Iago. my leave. This honest creature,

doubtless, Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

1AGO [returning]

My lord, I would I might entreat your

honor

4. Perhaps: to cover (“seel” means “to blind”) her father’s eyes as tightly as oak (a fine-grained wood).

5. May happen to compare you with Venetian standards.

OTHELLORS73

250

To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time. Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his place (For sure he fills it up with great ability), Yet if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means.°® Note if your lady strain his entertainment°®

4

849

urge his reception

With any strong or vehement importunity; Much will be seen in that. In the meantime

Let me be thought too busy° in my fears (As worthy cause I have to fear I am), And hold her free,° I do beseech your honor. OTHELLO

meddlesome

believe her innocent

self-conduct

Fear not my government.°

1AGO_ I once more take my leave. EN, OTHELLO This fellow’s of exceeding honesty, (human) types And knows all qualities° with a learned spirit wild (from falconry) Of human dealings. If Ido prove her haggard,° Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, I'd whistle her off and let her down the wind perhaps because To prey at fortune.’ Haply for I am black, easy manners And have not those soft parts of conversation® That chamberers°® have, or for I am declined

gallants

Into the vale of years—yet that’s not much— She’s gone, I am abused,’ and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage!

deceived

That we can call these delicate creatures ours

And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad And live upon the vapor of a dungeon Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones: Prerogatived® are they less than the base;°

privileged / lowborn

'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death;

Even then this forkéd plague is fated to us When we do quicken.® Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA. Look where she comes! If she be false, O then heaven mocks itself, I'll not believe’t. DESDEMONA How now, my dear Othello? Your dinner, and the generous? islanders

| 285

| |

By you invited, do attend® your presence. OTHELLO I am to blame. Why do you speak so faintly? DESDEMONA Are you not well? OTHELLO I have a pain upon my forehead, here.°

6. Method (for restoring himself to favor). 7. “Though... fortune”: even if what tied her (“jesses” are leg straps put on a hawk) were my own heartstrings, I’d set her loose downwind

noble

wait for

(from cuckold’s horns)

forever to hunt on her own. 8. “Even... quicken”: the “plague” of horns (imagined to grow from the forehead of a cuckold) is our fate as soon as we live.

850

|

WILLIAM

DESDEMONA

SHAKESPEARE

Faith, that’s with watching;° ’twill away

from lack of sleep

again. Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

290

It will be well. OTHELLO Your napkin’ is too little; [The handkerchief is dropped.| Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. DESDEMONA_ [am very sorry that you are not well. Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA. EMILIA_ I am glad I have found this napkin; This was her first remembrance® from the Moor. My wayward husband hath a hundred times Wooed me to steal it. But she so loves the token (For he conjured her° she should ever keep it) That she reserves it evermore about her

handkerchief

keepsake

made her swear

To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta’en out,°

embroidery copied

And giv’t lago; what he will do with it 300

Heaven knows, not I:

I nothing? but to please his fantasy.

intend nothing

Enter 1AGo.

305

310

1AGO_ How now? What do you here alone? EMILIA Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. 1AGO_ You have a thing for me? It is a common thing?— EMILIA Har 1AGO_ To have a foolish wife. EMILIA OQ), is that all? What will you give me now For that same handkerchief? IAGO What handkerchief? EMILIA What handkerchief? Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steal. 1AGO_ Hast stolen it from her? EMILIA No, faith; she let it drop by negligence, And to th’advantage® I, being here, took’t up.

taking the occasion

Look, here ’tis. 315

IAGO EMILIA

A good wench! Give it me. What will you do with’t, that you have been so

earnest

To have me filch it? 1AGO [taking it] Why, what is that to you? EMILIA If it be not for some purpose of import, Giv’t me again. Poor lady, she’ll run mad When she shall lack it. 320

IAGO

Be not acknown on't;°

I have use for it. Go—leave me! I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin And let him find it. Trifles light as air

9. It is a vagina (“thing”) available to all.

don't let it be known

Exit EMILIA,

OME EE Or Bis

|

851

Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison: Dangerous conceits® are in their natures poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act° upon the blood

340

ideas effect

Burn like the mines of sulphur.! Enter OTHELLO. I did say so— Look where he comes! Not poppy nor mandragora? Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst?® yesterday. owned OTHELLO Ha! ha! false to me? 1aGo. Why, how now, general? No more of that! OTHELLO Avaunt! be gone! Thou hast set me on the rack. I swear ‘tis better to be much abused® mistreated; deceived Than but to know’ a little. IAGO How now, my lord? OTHELLO What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust? I saw’t not, thought it not; it harmed not me; I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and merry; I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips. He that is robbed, not wanting® what is stol’n,

345

missing

Let him not know't, and he’s not robbed at all. 14GO- [| am sorry to hear this. OTHELLO I had been happy if the general camp, Pioneers® and all, had tasted her sweet body, So° I had nothing known. O, now forever

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the pluméd troops and the big wars That makes ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,° The spirit-stirring drum, th’ear-piercing fife, The royal banner and all quality,° Pride,? pomp, and circumstance? of glorious war! And O you mortal engines® whose rude throats

manual laborers if

trumpet aspects magnificence / ceremony deadly cannons

Th’immortal Jove’s dread clamors® counterfeit,

360

thunderclaps

Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone! 1AGo___Is't possible, my lord? OTHELLO [grabs 1aGo by the throat] Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore! Be sure of it, give me the ocular proof, Or by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath. Is’t come to this? IAGO 1. Pliny the Elder (23/24-79 c.£.) describes two islands of sulfur between mainland Italy and Sicily that were rumored to be always on fire.

2. A sleep-inducing substance mandrake root.

made

from the

SIO

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

OTHELLO Make me to see’t, or at the least so prove it That the probation® bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on, or woe upon thy life! 1aGo. My noble lord— OTHELLO 370

proof

If thou dost slander her and torture me,

Never pray more; abandon all remorse; On horror’s head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;

For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that. IAGO O grace! O heaven forgive me! Are you a man? Have you a soul? or sense? God buy you; take mine office. O wretched fool,° That lov’st to make thine honesty a vice!®

(to himself)

fault

O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world: 380

To be direct and honest is not safe. I thank you for this profit,°? and from hence I'll love no friend, sith? love breeds such offense. OTHELLO Nay, stay; thou shouldst be honest. 1AGO__I should be wise; for honesty’s a fool And loses that® it works for. OTHELLO By the world,* I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not. I'll have some proof. My name, that was as fresh As Dian’s? visage, is now begrimed and black

profitable lesson since

what

As mine own face. If there be cords or knives, 390

Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, Pll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! 1AGO_

395

1AGO_ 400

I see you are eaten up with passion;

I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? OTHELLO Would? Nay, and I will. 1AGO. And may. . . but how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor,’ grossly gape on? Behold her topped? OTHELLO Death and damnation! O! It were a tedious? difficulty, I think,

To bring them to that prospect. Damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster® More® than their own.° What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?

observer

painful share a pillow other / own eyes

It is impossible you should see this, 405

Were they as prime? as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride,° and fools as gross

3. Good-bye, I resign my official position (ensign). 4. Othello’s speech (lines 384-91) does not appear in Q. 5. Diana, goddess of chastity and of the (pale)

lustful

moon. The Second Quarto (1630) replaces “My” (line 387) with “Her,” a plausible but arguably less powerful reading that lacks textual authority. 6. As lecherous as wolves in heat.

OLHIEBEEOR

4 0

As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, If imputation and strong circumstances’ Which lead directly to the door of truth Will give you satisfaction, you might have't. OTHELLO Give me a living® reason she’s disloyal. 1AGO_ I do not like the office.° But sith I am entered in this cause so far, Pricked to’t® by foolish honesty and love,

srs

|

853

sustainable; valid task prodded on

I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleep. There are a kind of men So loose of soul that in their sleeps will mutter

Their affairs; one of this kind is Cassio. In sleep I heard him say “Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!” And then, sir, would he gripe® and wring my hand, Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard, As if he plucked up kisses by the roots That grew upon my lips, lay his leg o’er my thigh, And sigh, and kiss, and then cry “Curséd fate That gave thee to the Moor!” OTHELLO O monstrous! monstrous! IAGO Nay, this was but his dream. OTHELLO But this denoted a foregone conclusion;° "Tis a shrewd doubt,° though it be but a dream.® 430

435

grip

an earlier event reasonable fear

taco. And this may help to thicken other proofs That do demonstrate thinly. OTHELLO I'll tear her all to pieces! 1AGO_ Nay, yet be wise; yet we see nothing done; She may be honest yet. Tell me but this: Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries in your wife’s hand? OTHELLO I gave her such a one; ‘twas my first gift. 14Go__| know not that; but such a handkerchief—

I am sure it was your wife’s—did I today See Cassio wipe his beard with.

OTHELLO 440

If it be that—

1aco__If it be that, or any that was hers,

It speaks against her with the other proofs. OTHELLO O that the slave® had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see ’tis true. Look here, Iago: All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. "Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!

7. If inference and strong circumstantial evidence. 8. Q gives this line to lago.

(Cassio)

854

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne®

rule of the heart

To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,° 450

For ’tis of aspics’® tongues! IAGO Yet be content. OTHELLO’

455

465

burden

poisonous snakes’

O, blood! blood! blood!

1AGo Patience, I say; your mind may change. OTHELLO Never, lago. Like to the Pontic Sea,° Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne’er keeps retiring ebb but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont,’ Even so my bloody thoughts with violent pace

Black Sea

Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable° and wide revenge Swallow them up. OTHELLO kneels. Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow, I here engage my words. IAGO Do not rise yet. 1AGO kneels. Witness, you ever-burning lights above, You elements that clip° us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up

capacious

embrace

The execution® of his wit, hands, heart,

command

To wronged Othello’s service. Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse,’

pity (for Othello)

What bloody business ever.° [They rise. soever OTHELLO I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to’t.° immediately test it Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassio’s not alive. IAGO My friend is dead; "Tis done at your request. But let her live. OTHELLO

Damn her, lewd minx!° O, damn her! damn

her! Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. 1AGO_ I am your own forever.

Exeunt.

3.4 Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and CLOWN. DESDEMONA Do you know, sirrah,! where Lieutenant Cassio lies?

CLOWN || dare not say he lies anywhere. DESDEMONA Why, man?

9. The Propontic was the body of water bounded by the straits of Bosphorus and the Dardanelles (Hellespont), the latter strait leading to the

Aegean. 3.4 Location: Before the citadel. 1. A form of address to an inferior.

wanton

OTHELLO

3.4

|

855

CLOWN He’s a soldier, and for me to say a soldier lies, ’tis stabbing. DESDEMONA_ Go to; where lodges he? CLowN To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie. DESDEMONA Can anything be made of this? cLowWN

| know not where he lodges, and for me to devise

a lodging and say he lies here or he lies there were to lie in mine own throat.°

DESDEMONA report? CLOWN

20

lie outrageously

Can you inquire him out and be edified by

I will catechize the world for him—that is, make

questions and by them answer. DESDEMONA Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him | have moved? my lord on his behalf and hope all will be well. cLown ‘To do this is within the compass°® of man’s wit, and therefore | will attempt the doing it. Exit CLOWN DESDEMONA

petitioned scope

Where should? I lose the handkerchief,

did

Emilia? EMILIA_

I know not, madam.

DESDEMONA Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes,? and but? my noble Moor gold coins /except that Is true of mind and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough 30

To put him to ill-thinking. EMILIA Is he not jealous? DESDEMONA

Who, he? I think the sun where he was born

Drew all such humors from him.? Enter OTHELLO.

EMILIA

Look where he comes.

DESDEMONA [aside]

40

I will not leave him now till Cassio be

Called to him.—How is’t with you, my lord? Well, my good lady. [Aside] O, hardness to dissemble!— OTHELLO How do you, Desdemona? DESDEMONA Well, my good lord. This hand is moist, my lady. hand. your me Give OTHELLO’ It hath felt no age nor known no sorrow. DESDEMONA This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart.’ OTHELLO Hot, hot and moist. This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty: fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout;

For here’s a young and sweating devil here That commonly rebels. "Tis a good hand, (sexually) open

A frank° one.

45

DESDEMONA

You may indeed say so,

2. As if the African sun dried up the bodily fluids (“humors”) that produce jealousy. 3. This demonstrates fertility (perhaps, by impli-

cation, lust) and a generous (hinting at “loose”) heart. A moist hand was thought to be a sign of active desire.

856

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

For ‘twas that hand that gave away OTHELLO A liberal hand. The hearts But our new heraldry is hands, not DESDEMONA I cannot speak of this.

vi wi

60

my heart. of old gave hands, hearts.* Come now, your promise. OTHELLO What promise, chuck?° woodchuck (affectionate) DESDEMONA I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. OTHELLO I have a salt and sorry rheum® offends me; badly watering eyes Lend me thy handkerchief. DESDEMONA Here, my lord. OTHELLO That which I gave you. DESDEMONA I have it not about me. OTHELLO Not? DESDEMONA No, faith, my lord. OTHELLO That’s a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give. She was a charmer? and could almost read sorceress The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, "Twould make her amiable® and subdue my father desirable Entirely to her love; but if she lost it

Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me, And bid me, when my fate would have me wived,

70

To give it her.° I did so; and—take heed on’t!— Make it a darling like your precious eye. To lose’t or give’t away were such perdition® As nothing else could match. DESDEMONA Is’'t possible? OTHELLO “Tis true. There’s magic in the web of it: A sibyl° that had numbered in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses,’

to my wife

loss; damnation

female prophet

In her prophetic fury® sewed the work;

rapture

The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk,

And it was dyed in mummy,? which the skillful Conserved of° maidens’ hearts. I vi

DESDEMONA OTHELLO

80

preserved out of

I'faith? Is’t true? Most veritable; therefore look to’t well.

DESDEMONA ‘Then would to God that I had never seen’t! OTHELLO Ha? wherefore? DESDEMONA Why do you speak so startingly and rash?° _fitfully and urgently OTHELLO _Is't lost? Is’t gone? Speak, is’t out o’th’way? DESDEMONA Heaven bless us! OTHELLO Say you? DESDEMONA It is not lost; but what an if? it were?

OTHELLO

an if = if

How?

4. l.e., these days the joining of hands doesn’t signify the joiningof hearts. 5. “That... compasses”: who was two hundred

years old. 6. Fluid drained from mummified

posedly magical.

bodies, sup-

OT

85

HEEEO: 34

|

857

DESDEMONA | say it is not lost. OTHELLO Fetch’t, let me see'’t! DESDEMONA Why, so I can; but I will not now.

90

This is a trick to put me from my suit. Pray you let Cassio be received again. OTHELLO Fetch me the handkerchief, my mind misgives— DESDEMONA

Come, come!

You'll never meet a more sufficient? man— OTHELLO The handkerchief!

complete

DESDEMONA I pray, talk me of Cassio. OTHELLO’ The handkerchief!’ DESDEMONA A man that all his time 95

Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shared dangers with you— OTHELLO

The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA I’faith, you are to blame. OTHELLO 100

’Swounds!

Exit OTHELLO.

EMILIA Is not this man jealous? DESDEMONA I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief, I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

EMILIA

"Tis not a year or two shows us a man.

8

They are all but® stomachs, and we all but food;

nothing but

They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us. Enter 1AGo and Cassio. Look you, Cassio and my husband. iaco’

110

There is no other way; ‘tis she must do’t;

And lo the happiness!’ go and importune her. DESDEMONA How now, good Cassio, what’s the news with you? cassio. Madam, my former suit. I do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist and be a member of his love Whom

I, with all the office® of my heart,

Entirely honor. I would not be delayed. If my offense be of such mortal® kind That nor° my service past nor present sorrows Nor purposed merit in futurity

duty; loyal service deadly neither

Can ransom me into his love again,

But to know so° must be my benefit; 120

even to know this

So° shall I clothe me in a forced content

And shut? myself up in some other course To fortune’s alms. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio, DESDEMONA My advocation is not now in tune.! 7. Desdemona’s “I pray, talk me of Cassio” and Othello’s “The handkerchief!” are only in Q. 8. Le., it doesn’t take long to see what a man is.

if so

give

ahappy coincidence (seeing Desdemona). 9, What 1. My advocacy isn’t working properly.

858

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

My lord is not my lord, nor should I know him, 125

Were he in favor® as in humor’ altered.

appearance / mood

So help me every spirit sanctified As I have spoken for you all my best And stood within the blank? of his displeasure For my free speech. You must awhile be patient. 130

What I can do I will, and more I will

Than for myself Idare. Let that suffice you. 1AGoO_ Is my lord angry? EMILIA He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness.

135

taco. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon When it hath blown his ranks into the air And, like the devil, from his very arm Puffed his own brother*—and is he angry? Something of moment then. I will go meet him; There’s matter in’t indeed if he be angry. DESDEMONA

140

145

I prithee do so.

Exit {1aco].

Something sure of state*+— Either from Venice, or some unhatched practice® Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him— Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. "Tis even so. For let our finger ache, and it endues®

unfinished plot

induces

Our other, healthful members even to a sense

Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy® 150

As fits the bridal..—Beshrew me® much, Emilia.

careful attention wedding / (mild curse)

I was, unhandsome?® warrior as I am,

155

160

unskilled

Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborned the witness, And he’s indicted falsely.’ EMILIA Pray heaven it be State matters, as you think, and no conception Nor no jealous toy°® concerning you. DESDEMONA Alas the day! I never gave him cause. EMILIA But jealous souls will not be answered so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they’re jealous. It is a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself. DESDEMONA Heaven keep the monster from Othello’s mind! EMILIA Lady, amen!

whim

DESDEMONA _I will go seek him; Cassio, walk here about.

165

If Ido find him fit, ’ll move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost. 2. The “blank” was the white spot at the center of a target.

3. Blew up his own brother (and Othello wasn’t angry even then).

4. Surely some official business. 5. Made the witness lie and so accused Othello falsely.

OTHELLO

cassio_

3.4

|

859

I humbly thank your ladyship. Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA. Enter BIANCA.°

170

175

BIANCA Save you,° friend Cassio! CASSIO What make? you from home? How is’t with you, my most fair Bianca? I’faith, sweet love, | was coming to your house. BIANCA And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What? keep a week away? seven days and nights? Eightscore-eight hours? And lovers’ absent hours More tedious than the dial eightscore times!’ O weary reckoning!° CASSIO

God save you brings

calculating

Pardon me, Bianca;

I have this while with leaden thoughts been pressed, But I shall in a more continuate® time Strike off° this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [Gives her pespEMonas handkerchief.

copy this embroidery

Take me this work out.°

180

opportune make up

O, Cassio! whence came this? BIANCA This is some token from a newer friend;

To the felt absence now I feel a cause. Is't come to this? Well, well. Go to,? woman! CASSIO

185

stop it

Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress some remembrance; No, by my faith, Bianca. Why, whose is it? BIANCA I found it in my chamber. neither; not cassio_ I know I like the work well; ere it be demanded,’

likely

As like® enough it will, I would have it copied. 190

Take it and do’t, and leave me for this time.

BIANCA cassio_

Leave you? Wherefore? I do attend here on the general,

(to my cause)

And think it no addition,° nor my wish,

195

00

sought out

To have him see me womaned. Why, I pray you? BIANCA cassio_ Not that I love you not. But that you do not love me. BIANCA a little, way the I pray you bring me on night. at soon you see shall And say if I bring you, can I that way little a but "Tis cassio. For J attend here; but I’ll see you soon. ~BIANCA "Tis very good—I must be circumstanced.* Exeunt.

6. “Bianca” means “white” in Italian—an ironic reversal of conventional color imagery, given that Bianca is a “customer” (courtesan, 4.1.1 19).

7. “Lovers’. .. times”: each hour lovers are parted

is eightscore (160) times more tedious than normal clock time. 8. Content with what circumstances offer.

860

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Enter OTHELLO and 1AGO.

taco Will you think so? OTHELLO Think so, Iago? What, IAGO To kiss in private? OTHELLO An unauthorized kiss! taco. Or to be naked with her friend in bed wi

An hour or more, not meaning any harm? OTHELLO Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil.’ They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.* If they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip;° IAGO But if Igive my wife a handkerchief— OTHELLO

an excusable sin

What then?

taco. Why then, 'tis hers, my lord; and being hers, She may, I think, bestow’t on any man. OTHELLO She is protectress of her honor too; May she give that? 1AGO.

Her honor is an essence that’s not seen;

They® have it very oft that have it not.

they are reputed to

But for the handkerchief—

OTHELLO By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it! Thou said’st—O, it comes o’er my memory As doth the raven o’er the infectious® house,’

NR ri

30

Boding to all!—he had my handkerchief. taco Ay, what of that? OTHELLO That’s not so good now. 1AGO. What if I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say—as knaves be such abroad* Who (having by their own importunate suit Or voluntary dotage® of some mistress Convinced or supplied® them) cannot choose But they must blab— OTHELLO Hath he said anything?

plague-infested

doting seduced or satisfied

1aGO__He hath, my lord, but be you well assured, No more than he’ll unswear. OTHELLO What hath he said?

IAGO. Faith, that he did . . . 1know not what he did. OTHELLO What? What? WNEO? JLT 4 6 OTHELLO With her?

4.1

Location: Before the citadel.

1. Le., by appearing to act sinfully while actually being good. 2. “They... heaven”: those who mean well (“virtuously”) but act in this lascivious fashion (“so”)

open themselves to temptation by the devil, and

they tempt heaven (to give them over). “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God” (Matthew 4.7). 3. The raven was thought to be an ill omen and a carrier of plague. 4. As such knaves do exist in the world.

OTHELLO

35

40

IAGO With her, on her; what you will. OTHELLO Lie with her? lie on her? We say lie on her when they belie? her. Lie with her? ’Swounds, that’s fulsome.°— Handkerchief! confessions! handkerchief!—To° confess, and be hanged for his labor. First to be hanged, and then to confess: I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction.® It is not words that shakes me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips! Is’t possible? Confess? Handkerchief? O devil! Falls in a trance. 14GO.

4.1

|

8ol

slander nauseating

Work on;

My medicine works! Thus credulous fools are caught, And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach—What ho! my lord! My lord, I say! Othello! Enter CASsIo. How now, Cassio? 50

cassio. What's the matter? 1aco. My lord is fallen into an epilepsy. This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.

cassio. Rub him about the temples. IAGO No, forbear. The lethargy® must have his° quiet course; If not, he foams at mouth and by and by Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs. Do you withdraw yourself a little while; He will recover straight.° When he is gone, I would on great occasion® speak with you.

trance / its

immediately important matters

[Exit CAssto.]

60

65

How is it, general? Have you not hurt your head?’ OTHELLO Dost thou mock me? I mock you not, by heaven. IAGO Would you would bear your fortune like a man! A hornéd man’s a monster and a beast. oTHELLO 1aGo. _There’s many a beast then in a populous city, And many a civil? monster. OTHELLO’ IAGO

city-dwelling

Did he confess it? Good sir, be a man:

Think every bearded fellow that’s but yoked May draw with you.* There’s millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar.” Your case is better. O, ’tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arch-mock,?

To lip? a wanton in a secure® couch 5. The rest of the speech does not appear in Q. 6. “Nature ... instruction”: it isn’t natural that | would feel such overwhelming (“shadowing”) emotion (jealousy) unless there were some cause for it. 7. Othello takes this as suggesting that he has

grown cuckold’s horns.

devil's greatest mock

kiss / an unsuspected

8. Every married man (“yoked,” like an ox, to his wife and hence to cuckoldry) labors (“draws”) under the same fate. 9. Who lie in beds that don’t belong entirely to them but that they would swear are exclusively their own.

862

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

And to suppose her chaste. No, let me know; And knowing what I am,° I know what she shall be. OTHELLO’

(a cuckold)

O), thou art wise, ’tis certain.

IAGO

Stand you a while apart,

75

Confine yourself but in a patient list.° Whilst you were here, o’er-whelméd with your grief— A passion most unsuiting such

80

boundary

a man—

Cassio came hither. I shifted him away And laid good ’scuses upon your ecstasy,° Bade him anon return and here speak with me, The which he promised. Do but encave® yourself, And mark the fleers,° the gibes, and notable scorns

for your fit hide sneers

That dwell in every region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew: 85

90

Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when

He hath and is again to cope® your wife. I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience! Or I shall say you're all in all in spleen,° And nothing of a man. OTHELLO Dost thou hear, Lago? I will be found most cunning in my patience; But—dost thou hear?—most bloody. IAGO

copulate with

completely impulsive

That’s not amiss,

But yet keep time? in all. Will you withdraw?

maintain control

[OTHELLO withdraws. |

95

Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A huswife® that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and cloth. It is a creature That dotes on Cassio—as ’tis the strumpet’s plague To beguile many and be beguiled by one.

hussy

He, when he hears of her, cannot restrain

From the excess of laughter. Here he comes. Enter Cassio. 100

105

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; And his unbookish® jealousy must conster® Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures, and light behaviors Quite in the wrong. How do you, lieutenant? cassio_ The worser that you give me the addition? Whose want even kills me. 14GO_ Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on’. Now if this suit lay in Bianca’s power, How quickly should you speed! CASSIO

110

Alas, poor caitiff!°

OTHELLO Look how he laughs already! IAGO I never knew woman love man so. cassio_ Alas, poor rogue! I think, i’faith, she loves me. OTHELLO Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out. 1AGO_

Do you hear, Cassio?

OTHELLO

Now he importunes him

ignorant / construe

title

wretch

OTHEELOF

41

|

863

To tell it o’er. Go to! well said, well said! 115

1aGo_ She gives it out that you shall marry her. Do you intend it? cassio_

120

125

Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO Do ye triumph, Roman?! do you triumph? cassio_ I marry? What! a customer?° Prithee bear some charity to my wit;° do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO So, so, so, so! they laugh that wins. 1aGo_ Faith, the cry goes that you marry her. cassio_Prithee say true. 1aGco- Lam avery villain else.° OTHELLO Have you scored® me? Well. cassio_ This is the monkey’s own giving out.* She is persuaded I will marry her out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise. OTHELLO Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.

courtesan sense

if it’s not true

scored off

[OTHELLO draws closer.]

cassio. She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians,

and thither comes

the bauble® and

toy

falls me thus about my neck— Crying “O dear Cassio!” as it were: his gesture OTHELLO indicates

imports? it.

cassio_

So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me, so shakes

and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha!

140

150

Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamOTHELLO ber. O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog | shall throw it to. cassio_ Well, I must leave her company. 14Go_ Before me! look where she comes! Enter BIANCA. cassio_ Tis such another fitchew!* marry, a perfumed one! What do you mean by this haunting of me? Let the devil and his dam® haunt you! What did BIANCA you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. | must take out® the work? A likely piece of work,* that you should find it in your chamber and know not who left it there! This is

mother

copy

some minx’s token, and I must take out the work? There,

give it your hobby-horse!°? Wheresoever you had it, P'Il mountable woman take out no work on'’t.

cassio 155

How now, my sweet Bianca?

How now? how now?

1. Othello draws on associations either with Rome's imperial successes (and subsequent collapse) or with the Roman practice of holding cele-

bratory processions (called triumphs) for military victors. 2. Le., this is Bianca’s own story.

3. Le., I'm envisioning my revenge, but the time is not yet quite right. 4. Polecat, associated with prostitutes because

of its bad smell and supposed lecherousness. 5. An implausible story.

864

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

OTHELLO By heaven, that should® be my handkerchief! BIANCA If you'll come to supper tonight, you may; if you will not, come when you are next prepared for.° Exit. 160

must

1AGo. After her, after her! cassio. Faith, I must; she’ll rail in the streets else.

14Go cassio.

Will you sup there? Faith, I intend so.

1AGo.

165

Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you. cassio_Prithee come, will you? IAGO. Go to; say no more. OTHELLO [comes forward]

170

Exit CASSIO How shall I murder him, Iago?

1aGo__ Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice? OTHELLO O Iago! 1AGo_ And did you see the handkerchief? OTHELLO Was that mine? 1AGO Yours, by this hand! and to see how he prizes the foolish woman, your wife! She gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. OTHELLO I would have him nine years a-killing!’—A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman! 1aGo. Nay, you must forget that. OTHELLO Ay, let her rot and perish and be damned tonight, for she shall not live! No, my heart is turned to

180

190

stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.—O, the world hath not a sweeter creature! She might lie by an emperor’s side and command him tasks. 1AGO_ Nay, that’s not your way.° (the way to think) OTHELLO Hang her!—I do but say what she is: so delicate with her needle; an admirable musician (O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!); of so high and plenteous wit and invention!° imagination 1AGO_She’s the worse for all this. OTHELLO O, a thousand, a thousand times!—And then of so gentle® a condition! highly born 1AGO__ Ay, too gentle.® generous (sexually) OTHELLO Nay, that’s certain.—But yet the pity of it, Iago! O lago, the pity of it, Iago! 1AGO_ If you are so fond? over her iniquity, give her patent® foolish / license to offend; for if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. OTHELLO I will chop her into messes!° Cuckold me! pieces of food 1AGoO__O, ’tis foul in her.

OTHELLO With mine officer! 1AGO. ‘That’s fouler. 200

OTHELLO Get me some poison, Iago, this night. I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind?® again. This night, Iago. weaken my resolve

6. Come next time I prepare for you (never).

7. 1 would like to spend nine years killing him.

OTHELLO

205

|

865

1AGO Do it not with poison. Strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. OTHELLO Good, good! The justice of it pleases. Very good! 1aco.

210

4.1

And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker.° You shall

murderer

hear more by midnight. OTHELLO Excellent good! A trumpet [within]. What trumpet is that same? 1AGo_I warrant something from Venice. Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and attendants.

215

'Tis Lodovico; this comes from the duke. See, your wife’s with him. Lopovico’ God save you, worthy general. With all my heart,’ sir. OTHELLO Lopovico The duke and the senators of Venice greet you. [Gives him a letter.]

I kiss the instrument? of their pleasures.°

OTHELLO

thank you / commands bearer

[Opens the letter and reads.|

220

DESDEMONA And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico? 14Go’. [Lam very glad to see you, signor. Welcome to Cyprus. Lopovico I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? IAGO

tr nN vi

230

Lives, sir.

Cousin, there’s fallen between him and my DESDEMONA lord An unkind? breach; but you shall make all well. OTHELLO Are you sure of that? DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO [reads] “This fail you not to do, as you will...” He did not call: he’s busy in the paper. Lopovico Is there division ‘twixt my lord and Cassio? A most unhappy one; I would do much DESDEMONA T’atone® them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

unnatural

to reconcile

OTHELLO Fire and brimstone! My lord? DESDEMONA Are you wise? OTHELLO What, is he angry? DESDEMONA May be the letter moved him; LODOVICO 235

For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government.”

DESDEMONA OTHELLO

By my troth, I am glad on't.

official position

Indeed!

My lord? DESDEMONA Iam glad to see you mad.* OTHELLO Why, sweet Othello? DESDEMONA OTHELLO

Devil!

[Strikes her.]

and thus revealing their adul8. Othello is pleased that Desdemona is rejoicing in Cassio’s promotion

of him. terous affair, which she would be “mad” to do in public and in front

866

240

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WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

DESDEMONA I have not deserved this. Lopovico My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, Though I should swear [ saw’t. "Tis very much;°

going too far

Make her amends—she weeps. OTHELLO O devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with® woman’s tears,

245

250

become pregnant by

Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.’ Out of my sight! +DESDEMONA I will not stay to offend you. Lopovico ‘Truly obedient lady! I do beseech your lordship call her back. OTHELLO Mistress! DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO What would you® with her, sir? LODOVICO

do you wish

Who, I, my lord?

OTHELLO Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.° Sir, she can turn, and turn,° and yet go on And turn again. And she can weep, sir, weep.

return (sexually)

And she’s obedient; as you say, obedient,

255

Very obedient.—Proceed you in your tears.— Concerning this, sir—O well-painted passion!— I am commanded home.—Get you away! I'll send for you anon.—Sir, I obey the mandate And will return to Venice.—Hence, avaunt!® [Exit DESDEMONA. |

260

begone

Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.—Goats and monkeys!! | hee

265

Lopovico Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call all-in-all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident nor dart of chance Could neither graze nor pierce? IAGO He is much changed. Lopovico Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain? 1AGO_

270

He's that he is; | may not breathe my censure.

What he might be—if what he might he is not— I would to heaven he were. LODOVICO What! Strike his wife? 1AGO_ Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst. LODOVICO

Is it his use?°

Or did the letters work upon his blood® 275

And new create his fault? IAGO Alas, alas!

9. Each drop would cause the earth to conceive a

for their victims).

crocodile (crocodiles proverbially wept false tears

1. Symbols of lust.

custom

passions

OTHELLO

4.2

|

867

It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,

280

And his own courses° will denote him so That I may save my speech. Do but go after And mark how he continues. Lopovico’ I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

actions

Exeunt. 4.2

Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA. OTHELLO You have seen nothing then? EMILIA

OTHELLO EMILIA

Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. But then I saw no harm, and then I| heard

Each syllable that breath made up between them. OTHELLO What, did they never whisper? EMILIA Never, my lord. OTHELLO Nor send you out o'th’ way? EMILIA Never. OTHELLO To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? EMILIA Never, my lord. OTHELLO That’s strange. EMILIA I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other, Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse, For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,

20

There’s no man happy. The purest of their wives Is foul as slander. Bid her come hither—go. Exit EMILIA. OTHELLO She says enough; yet she’s a simple bawd That cannot say as much.’ This is a subtle whore: A closet lock and key? of villainous secrets; And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do’t. Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA. DESDEMONA My lord, what is your will? Pray you, chuck,

OTHELLO

come hither. What is your pleasure? DESDEMONA Pp}

a hider

OTHELLO

Let me see your eyes.

Look in my face. What horrible fancy’s this? DESDEMONA OTHELLO [to EMILIA]

Some of your function,’ mistress:

Leave procreants® alone and shut the door;

4.2 Location: The citadel. 1. In Genesis, the curse that God laid on the serpent who deceived Eve. 2. Yet it would be a simpleminded go-between

copulators

who couldn't say as much as she did. 3. Fulfill your bawd’s function by guarding the door.

868

30

40

45

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Cough or cry “hem” if anybody come. Your mystery, your mystery!° Nay, dispatch! Exit EMILIA. DESDEMONA Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words. OTHELLO Why? What art thou? DESDEMONA Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife. OTHELLO Come, swear it! damn thyself! Lest, being? like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damned: Swear thou art honest! DESDEMONA Heaven doth truly know it. OTHELLO Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. DESDEMONA ‘To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false? OTHELLO Ah, Desdemon! away, away, away! DESDEMONA Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? If haply° you my father do suspect An instrument of this your calling back, Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him, I have lost him too. OTHELLO Had it pleased heaven To try me with affliction, had they rained All kind of sores and shames on my bare head, Steeped me in poverty to the very lips,

profession

appearing

perhaps

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,

I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience. But, alas, to make me The fixéd figure for the time of scorn To point his slow and moving finger at!* Yet could I bear that too—well, very well; But there where I have garnered° up my heart,

stored

Where either I must live or bear no life, 60

65

The fountain from the which my current runs Or else dries up; to be discarded thence, Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender? in!—Turn thy complexion there, Patience,° thou young and rose-lipped cherubin; Ay, here look grim as hell! DESDEMONA I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. OTHELLO

OQ, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles,°

slaughterhouse

That quicken even with blowing.’ O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell’st so sweet 4. The designated object of scorn for this scornful time to point (as on a clock face) its slowly

moving hand at. 5. To couple and engender. 6. Change color at the thought of that, Patience.

7. Who come to life (or bring their offspring to life and hence make the meat foul) as soon as the

eggs are deposited. The point seems to be the speed of breeding, inferred from Desdemona’s supposed infidelity.

OMMEELO

wD

That the sense aches at thee, Would thou hadst never been born! DESDEMONA_ Alas, what ignorant sin have | committed? OTHELLO Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write “whore” upon? What committed? Committed?® O, thou public commoner!® I should make very forges of my cheeks That would to cinders burn up modesty Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed? Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;°

80

85

No, as

|

869

prostitute

closes its eyes

The bawdy° wind that kisses all it meets Is hushed within the hollow mine of earth® And will not hear’t. What committed? DESDEMONA By heaven, you do me wrong! OTHELLO Are not you a strumpet? DESDEMONA

M4yZ

promiscuous within a cave

Iam a Christian!

If to preserve this vessel for my lord From any other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a strumpet, I am none. OTHELLO What, not a whore? DESDEMONA

90

No, as I shall be saved!

OTHELLO Is't possible? DESDEMONA _ O, heaven forgive us! OTHELLO I cry you mercy® then. I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello.—You! Mistress! That have the office opposite to Saint Peter And keeps the gate of hell. You, you!

I beg your pardon

Enter EMILIA.

25

100

Ay, you. money] there’s her [giving course;° We have done our money for your pains; Exit. I pray you turn the key and keep our counsel. EMILIA Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?° How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? DESDEMONA Faith, half asleep. EMILIA Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

DESDEMONA

With who?

EMILIA DESDEMONA EMILIA

Why, with my lord, madam. Who is thy lord? He that is yours, sweet lady.

business

believe

DESDEMoNA I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia; I cannot weep, nor answers have I none

105

But what should go by water.° Prithee tonight Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember; And call thy husband hither. Here’s a change indeed! EMILIA

Exit.

8. Lines 74-77 do not appear in Q.

appear in tears

870

110

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

fitting

"Tis meet® I should be used so, very meet. DESDEMONA How have I been behaved that he might stick The small’st opinion on my least misuse?” Enter 1AGO and EMILIA. isco. What is your pleasure, madam? How is’t with you?

DESDEMONA I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks. He might have chid me so; for in good faith Iam a child to chiding. IAGO What is the matter, lady? 115

EMILIA

Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,°

called her a whore

Thrown such despite® and heavy terms upon her, That true hearts cannot bear it.

spite

DESDEMONA

120

DESDEMONA i) vw

Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO What name, fair lady? DESDEMONA Such as she said my lord did say I was. EMILIA He called her whore. A beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.° taco. Why did he so?

whore

I do not know; I am sure I am none such.

14GO._ Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! EMILIA Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends,

130

To be called whore? Would it not make one weep? DESDEMONA It is my wretched fortune. IAGO Beshrew? him for't! How comes this trick° upon him? DESDEMONA Nay, heaven doth know. EMILIA I will be hanged if some eternal villain, Some busy® and insinuating rogue,

135

140

curse behavior

meddling

Some cogging,’ cozening® slave, to get some office, deceiving / cheating Have not devised this slander. I will be hanged else. 1AGoO. Fie! there is no such man; it is impossible. DESDEMONA If any such there be, heaven pardon him. EMILIA A halter° pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones! hangman's noose Why should he call her whore? Who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. O heaven, that such companions thou’dst unfold,°

And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the world Even from the east to th’ west! IAGO Speak within door.° EMILIA OQ, fie upon them! Some such squire® he was That turned your wit the seamy side without® And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

9. “That... misuse”: that would cause him to suspect even slightly the least fault (?).

reveal

more softly fellow wrong side out

OTHELLO

150

4.2

|

871

1AGO_ You are a fool; go to. DESDEMONA O God,! lago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him; for by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:? If e’er my will did trespass ‘gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,

155

160

Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense Delighted them in any other form,* Or that I do not yet,° and ever did, And ever will (though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement) love him dearly— Comfort forswear me!® Unkindness may do much, And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

165

still

— deny me divine solace

[She rises.]

I cannot say “whore.” It does abhor* me now I speak the word. To do the act that might the addition® earn, Not the world’s mass of vanity° could make me. 1aGo__I pray you be content; ’tis but his humor;° The business of the state does him offense. DESDEMONA If ’twere no other— IAGO

label all worldly splendor mood

It is but so, I warrant.

[Trumpets within.|

170

Hark how these instruments summon to supper. The messengers of Venice stays the meat;° Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

are waiting to eat

Enter RODERIGO.

How now, Roderigo? RODERIGO I do not find that thou deal’st justly with me. 1aGo. What in the contrary? Every day thou doff’st me with some device,’ RODERIGO 175

180

Iago, and rather, as it seems to me now, keep’st from me

all conveniency? than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered. 1aGco. Will you hear me, Roderigo? RODERIGO

185

opportunity

Faith, I have heard too much; and your words

and performances are no kin together. 1aco. You charge me most unjustly. With naught but truth. | have wasted myself RODERIGO out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist.° 1. The folio reads “Alas,” in keeping with the oaths that led to many changes from censorship of

in Q. appear 3. Took pleasure in anyone but him.

probably a misprint for “O God.”

with a pun on “ab-whore.”

the quarto text. Q’s reading here, “O Good,” is 2. Lines 151-64 (beginning with “Here”) do not

nun

4. Fill me with abhorrence; make me abhorrent, 5. You put me off with some trick.

872

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

You have told me she hath received them, and returned

190

195

me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none. 1AGO Well, go to, very well. RODERIGO “Very well”! “go to”! I cannot go to,° man, nor succeed sexually ‘tis not very well. Nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin to made a fool find myself fopped?® in it. 1AGO_ Very well. RODERIGO I tell you ’tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation. If not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of

you. 1AGo_ You have said® now. RODERIGO Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing. 1sGo.

finished

Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee, and even

from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just exception, but yet I protest I have

210

N

wi

dealt most directly in thy affair. RODERIGO It hath not appeared. 1AGo__I| grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed which I| have greater reason to believe now than ever—I mean purpose, courage, and valor—this night show it. If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for° my life. RODERIGO

plots against

Well, what is it? Is it within reason and com-

pass?° 1AGO_ Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice

possibility

to depute Cassio in Othello’s place. RODERIGO Is that true? Why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.

1AGO.

O no; he goes into Mauritania® and taketh away

with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lini) i) uw

230

gered here by some accident; wherein none can be so determinate® as the removing of Cassio. RODERIGO How do you mean “removing” him? 1AGO_ Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place— knocking out his brains. RODERIGO And that you would have me to do. 1AGoO_ Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows not yet of his honorable fortune.° If you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion? to fall out

6. Country in the western Sahara.

effectual

his promotion

arrange

OTHELLO)

453

|

873

between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure. I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me. I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows to waste. About it! RODERIGO [| will hear further reason for this. 1aGo_ And you shall be satisfied. Exeunt.

235

240

4.3

Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and attendants. Lopovico I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no

further. OTHELLO O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. LODOVICO [to DESDEMONA] Madam, good night. I humbly thank your ladyship. DESDEMONA Your honor is most welcome. OTHELLO Will you walk, sir? wi

O, Desdemona—

DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO Get you to bed on th’instant. I will be returned forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there. Look’t be done. DESDEMONA I will, my lord. Exeunt [OTHELLO with Lopovico and attendants].

EMILIA How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did. DESDEMONA He says he will return incontinent,° And hath commanded me to go to bed, And bid me to dismiss you. EMILIA Dismiss me? DESDEMONA

immediately

It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia,

Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu. We must not now displease him. EMILIA I would you had never seen him. So would not I: my love doth so approve him DESDEMONA That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns—

Prithee unpin! me—have grace and favor in them. [emiLiA helps DESDEMONA undress.]

EMILIA

I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

DESDEMONA _ AIl’s one. Good faith, how foolish are our

minds! If Ido die before thee, prithee shroud me In one of these same sheets. EMILIA 25

DESDEMONA

Come, come—you

talk.

My mother had a maid called Barbary;

4.3 Location: Scene continues. 1. To “unpin” a woman was to undo her dress, by the removal of pins.

it doesn’t matter

874

30

40

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

She was in love, and he she loved proved mad And did forsake her. She had a Song of “Willow’— An old thing ’twas, but it expressed her fortune— And she died singing it. That song tonight Will not go from my mind; I* have much to do But to? go hang my head all at one side And sing it, like poor Barbary. Prithee dispatch.° EMILIA Shall I go fetch your nightgown? DESDEMONA No. Unpin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man. EMILIA A very handsome man. DESDEMONA _ He speaks well. EMILIA_ I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether°® lip. DESDEMONA [sings] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow;*

make haste

lower

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,

Sing willow, willow, willow. The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans, 45

Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her and softened the stones,

Sing willow— [to EMIL1A] Lay by these.° put these things aside [sings] willow, willow. [to EMILIA] Prithee hie® thee—he’ll come anon.° hurry /straightaway [sings] Sing all a green willow must be my garland. Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve. Nay, that’s not next. Hark, who is’t that knocks? EMILIA It’s the wind. DESDEMONA [sings] I called my love false love, but what said he then?> Sing willow, willow, willow;

VI wi)

If Icourt more women, you'll couch with more men. [to EMILIA] So, get thee gone, good night. Mine eyes do itch—

Doth that bode® weeping?

60

EMILIA DESDEMONA | have heard men!° Dost thou in conscience That there be women do In such gross kind?°

EMILIA DESDEMONA

foretell

"Tis neither here nor there. it said so. O, these men, these think—tell me, Emilia— abuse their husbands

There be some such, no question. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

2. Lines 30-52 ("I. . . next”) do not appear in Q. 3. I can barely bring myself not to. 4. A conventional symbol of disappointed love.

5. Lines 54—56 do not appear in Q. 6. Lines 59-62 do not appear in Q.

fashion

OTHELLO

65

75

80

85

90

95

EMILIA Why, would not you? DESDEMONA No, by this heavenly light! EMILIA_ Nor I neither, by this heavenly light: I might do’t as well i’'th’ dark. DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? EMILIA The world’s a huge thing: it is a great price for a small vice. DESDEMONA In troth, I think thou wouldst not. EMILIA In troth, I think Ishould—and undo't when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint ring,’ nor for measures of lawn,° nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition.’ But for all the whole world—’Uds? pity! who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't. Beshrew me if I would do such a wrong for DESDEMONA the whole world! EMILIA Why, the wrong is but a wrong i’th’ world; and having the world for your labor, ‘tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right. I do not think there is any such woman. DESDEMONA dozen; and as many to’th’ vantage as a Yes, EMILIA would store the world they played for.® But I do think it is their husbands’ faults’ If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties° And pour our treasures into foreign laps;' Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite.’ Why, we have galls;° and though we have some grace,* Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them. They see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is. And doth affection® breed it? I think it doth. Is’t frailty that thus errs?

so)

i)

8H

linen

gift God's

marital duties

tempers

lust

It is so too. And have not we affections, 100

Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

Then let them use us well; else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

DESDEMONA

Good night, good night. God me such uses°

send,

Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad, mend!*

7. Acheap ring in separable halves. 8. And as many more as it would take to populate the world they gained by doing it. 9. Lines 85—102 do not appear in Q. 1. And give the semen that belongs to us to other

habits

— Exeunt.

women. 2. Or reduce our allowances out of spite. 3. Capacity for goodness, forgiveness. 4. Not to take bad behavior as an example to be followed, but to learn from it what to avoid.

876

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Bal

Enter 1AGo and RODERIGO. taco

Here, stand behind this bulk,° straight’ will he

shop stall

come. Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.° Quick, quick, fear nothing! I'll be at thy elbow.

drive it into him

It makes us or it mars us; think on that

And fix most firm thy resolution. RODERIGO Be near at hand; I may miscarry in’t. 1AGo_Here, at thy hand. Be bold, and take thy stand. [Stands aside.]|

RODERIGO I have no great devotion to the deed, And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons; "Tis but a man gone. Forth my sword: he dies! 1AGo__I have rubbed this young quat° almost to the sense,” And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,°

pimple

if Roderigo lives

He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels that I bobbed from him? As gifts to Desdemona.

defrauded him of

It must not be. If Cassio do remain,

He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor May unfold° me to him; there stand I in much peril. No, he must die. But so—I hear him coming.

reveal

Enter Cassio

RODERIGO _ | know his gait; ’tis he. Villain, thou diest! [Thrusts at Cassio.]| 25

cassio_ That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better® than thou know’st.

thicker; more armored

I will make proof of° thine. [Wounds ropErico.| RODERIGO O, I am slain! [1AGo wounds Cassio in the leg and exits.|

cassio_

test

| am maimed forever! Help, ho! murder! murder! Enter OTHELLO.

OTHELLO RODERIGO OTHELLO 30

The voice of Cassio. Iago keeps his word. OO, villain that I am!

It is even so. cassio_ O, help ho! light! a surgeon! OTHELLO "Tis he. O brave Iago, honest and just, That hast such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong! Thou teachest me. Minion,° your dear lies dead,

And your unblest fate hies.° Strumpet, I come. Forth of° my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted.

5.1 Location: A street in Cyprus. 1. Right away.

2. To the quick.

hussy (Desdemona)

damnation hurries on out of

ORHELLOTSa

|

877

Thy bed, lust-stained, shall with lust’s blood be spotted. Exit OTHELLO.

40

45

50

Enter Lopovico and GRATIANO. cassio_ What ho! no watch? no passage?® Murder, murder! GRATIANO "Tis some mischance; the voice is very direful. cassio_ O help! Lopovico Hark! RODERIGO O wretched villain! Lopovico Two or three groan. "Tis heavy° night; These may be counterfeits; let’s think’t unsafe To come into® the cry without more help. Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death. RODERIGO Enter 1AGo with a light. Lopovico Hark. Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and GRATIANO weapons. 1AGo. Who's there? Whose noise is this that cries on murder? Lopovico We do not know. Do not you hear a cry? IAGO cassio_ Here, here! for heaven’s sake, help me! What's the matter? IAGO GRATIANO

55

This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it.

The same indeed, a very valiant fellow. Lopovico 1aGo. What are you here that cry so grievously? cassio__ Tago? O, I am spoiled, undone by villains! Give me some help. O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?

taco.

cassio_ I think that one of them is hereabout And cannot make away. O treacherous villains! IAGO

[to Lopovico and GRATIANO] What are you there? Come

60

in, and give some help. O, help me there! RODERIGO cassio_ That’s one of them. O murd’rous slave! O villain! IAGO [Stabs RODERIGO.]

O damned Iago! O inhuman dog! RODERIGO taco Kill men i’th’ dark?—Where be these bloody thieves?— How silent is this town!—Ho, murder, murder!—

65

[to Lopovico and GRATIANO] What may you be? Are you of good or evil? As you shall prove us, praise us. Lopovico taco Signor Lodovico? Lopovico

70

He, sir.

1aGo._I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains. GRATIANO Cassio? 1aGo

cassio. IAGO

How is’, brother?

My leg is cut in two.

Marry, heaven forbid!

passerby

dark

go near

878

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Light, gentlemen. I’ bind it with my shirt. BIANCA

75

80

1aGo. Who is't that cried? BIANCA O, my dear Cassio! My sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! 1AGO. O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus mangled your cassio_ No. GRATIANO[am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you. 1aGO. Lend me a garter.’ So. . . O for a chair® To bear him easily hence! BIANCA

85

Enter BIANCA. What is the matter, ho? Who is’t that cried?

Alas, he faints!

litter

O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!

1aGo. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury.— Patience awhile, good Cassio.—Come, come!

90

95

Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? Alas! my friend and my dear countryman, Roderigo! No—yes, sure! O heaven, Roderigo! GRATIANO What, of Venice? IAGO Even he, sir. Did you know him? GRATIANO Know him? Ay. 1AGO_ Signor Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon. These bloody accidents must excuse my manners That so neglected you. GRATIANO I am glad to see you. IAGO

How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!

GRATIANO Roderigo? 1AGO. He, he, tis he.

100

[Enter attendants with a litter.] O, that’s well said, the chair.

Some good man bear him carefully from hence; Ill fetch the general’s surgeon.—For you, mistress, Save you your labor.—He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you? cAssio_ None in the world, nor do I know the man. 1AGO [to BIANCA] What, look you pale? [To attendants] O,

bear him out o'th’air.* [Exeunt attendants with cassio in the

105

litter and with RoDERIGO’s body.| Stay you, good gentlemen.—Look you pale, mistress?— Do you perceive the gastness° of her eye?—

terror

Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.—

Behold her well; I pray you look upon her. Do you see, gentlemen? Nay, guiltiness will speak Though tongues were out of use. Enter EMILIA. 3. A band worn as a sash or belt. Iago wants to

4. Out of the open air (thought to be bad for

use one as a tourniquet.

wounds).

OWMEPEOR

EMILIA 110

Alas, what is the matter? what is the matter, hus-

band? 1AGo_ Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped. He’s almost slain, and Roderigo quite dead. EMILIA Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! taco

120

879

Se2

This is the fruits of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,

Go know of Cassio where he supped tonight— What, do you shake at that? BIANCA He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not. 1aco. _O did he so? I charge you go with me. EMILIA O fie upon thee, strumpet! BIANCA I am no strumpet, but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me. EMILIA As I? Fie upon thee! 1aco__Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dressed.?— Come, mistress, you must tell’s another tale. Emilia, run you to the citadel

And tell my lord and lady what hath happed. [Exit EMILIA.] Exeunt [all but 1aco]. Will you go on afore? This is the night [Exit.] That either makes me or fordoes° me quite.

undoes

5 Enter OTHELLO with a light, DESDEMONA in her bed [asleep].

It is the cause,! it is the cause, my soul.

OTHELLO Let me

not name

it to you, you chaste stars.

It is the cause. Yet I’ll not shed her blood, Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, stone And smooth as monumental alabaster.° Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light. light If |quench thee, thou flaming minister,” restore, light former thy I can again Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature,’ I know not where is that Promethean heat* That can thy light relume.° When I have plucked thy rose

used in tombs

that serves me

relight

I cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs must wither. I’ll smell thee on the tree. [He smells, then kisses her.|

O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 5. Le., see his wound dressed. 5.2 Location: Desdemona and Othello’s bedroom. 1. Le., Desdemona’s infidelity is the “cause” of— the thing that demands—justice, which Othello

sees himself as being required to execute.

2. This and the following lines compare the light

of Othello’s lamp or torch to Desdemona’s “light”

of life.

3. You most cleverly wrought example of nature's surpassing work. 4. Life-giving fire. In Greek mythology, Prometheus stole fire from heaven to give it to humankind; in a different tradition, he is credited with animating humankind from clay.

880

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Justice to break her sword! One more; one more.

[He kisses her.| Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee And love thee after. One more, and that’s the last. 20

25

He kisses her. So sweet was ne'er so fatal. must weep, But they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly: It strikes where it doth love.” She wakes. DESDEMONA Who's there? Othello? OTHELLO Ay, Desdemona. DESDEMONA Will you come to bed, my lord? OTHELLO Have you prayed tonight, Desdemon? DESDEMONA Ay, my lord. OTHELLO If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit® for it straight.

DESDEMONA 30

40

45

OTHELLO

Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.

I would not kill thy unpreparéd spirit. No, heavens forfend! I would not kill thy soul. DESDEMONA Talk you of killing? OTHELLO Ay, I do. DESDEMONA Then heaven Have mercy on me! OTHELLO Amen, with all my heart! DESDEMONA If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. OTHELLO Humh. DESDEMONA And yet I fear you, for you're fatal then When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear, I know not, Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear. OTHELLO Think on thy sins. DESDEMONA They are loves I bear to you. OTHELLO Ay, and for that thou diest. DESDEMONA ‘That death’s unnatural that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame. These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. OTHELLO DESDEMONA OTHELLO

50

Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?

Peace, and be still. I will so. What’s the matter? That handkerchief,

Which I so loved and gave thee, thou gav’st to Cassio. DESDEMONA No, by my life and soul! Send for the man And ask him. OTHELLO

Sweet soul, take heed; take heed of perjury;

Thou art on thy deathbed. DESDEMONA Ay, but not yet to die.

5. See Hebrews 12.6: “For whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.”

ask forgiveness

OP MEELOT 542

=p

60

65

OTHELLO Presently.° Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin; For to deny each article with oath Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception That I do groan withal.® Thou art to die. DESDEMONA Then Lord have mercy on me! OTHELLO I say amen. DESDEMONA And have you mercy too! I never did Offend you in my life, never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love. I never gave him token. OTHELLO By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in’s hand! O perjured woman! thou dost stone® my heart, And makes me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice. I saw the handkerchief.

DESDEMONA

70

881

immediately

harden

He found it then.

I never gave it him. Send for him hither. Let him confess a truth. He hath confessed. OTHELLO DESDEMONA What, my lord? OTHELLO That he hath used thee. How? unlawfully? DESDEMONA OTHELLO

fie)

|

Ay.

DESDEMONA He will not say so. No, his mouth is stopped. OTHELLO Honest Iago hath ta’en order for't. O, my fear interprets! What, is he dead? DESDEMONA all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had OTHELLO Had stomach for them all. Alas, he is betrayed and I undone! DESDEMONA [weeping] Out, strumpet! Weep’st thou for him to my OTHELLO

face?

80

DESDEMONA O banish me, my lord, but kill me not! OTHELLO [attacking her] Down, strumpet!

85

DESDEMONA

Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight! DESDEMONA Nay, if you strive— OTHELLO But half an hour! DESDEMONA Being done, there is no OTHELLO pause.’ But while I say one prayer! DESDEMONA It is too late. OTHELLO Smothers her. O Lord, Lord, Lord!

EMILIA calls within my lord!

6. Cannot

change

the

My lord, my lord! What ho! My lord,

strong

conviction

I

have of your guilt (or the firm plan to kill you), which makes me groan so. The metaphor is from

childbirth.

7. Now that I've started, there's no stopping.

882

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

OTHELLO What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful; I would not have thee linger in thy pain. 90

So, so.

EMILIA within What ho? my lord, my lord! OTHELLO Who's there? EMILIA [within] O good my lord, I would speak a word with you. OTHELLO [calling]

95

100

Yes.—’Tis Emilia.—[calling] By and

by.°—She’s dead. "Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death. The noise was high.° Ha, no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were’t good? I think she stirs again. No. What’s best to do? If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife. My wife, my wife! What wife? I have no wife. O insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that th’affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.® EMILIA [within]

in a moment commotion was loud

I do beseech you

That I may speak with you. O good my lord! OTHELLO I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia. Soft,° by and by; let me the curtains draw. [He closes the bed curtains.|

quiet

Where art thou? What’s the matter with thee now? [He unlocks the door.| Enter EMILIA.

110

EMILIA_ O my good lord, yonder’s foul murders done! OTHELLO What? now? EMILIA But® now, my lord. OTHELLO It is the very error® of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont And makes men mad. EMILIA

just

deviation

Cassio, my lord, hath killed

A young Venetian called Roderigo. OTHELLO Roderigo killed? and Cassio killed? EMILIA_

120

No, Cassio is not killed.

OTHELLO Not Cassio killed? Then murder’s out of tune And sweet revenge grows harsh. DESDEMONA O falsely, falsely murdered! EMILIA O Lord! what cry is that? OTHELLO That? What? EMILIA Out and alas! that was my lady’s voice. [She opens the bed curtains.| Help, help ho, help! O, lady, speak again! Sweet Desdemona, O sweet mistress, speak! DESDEMONA A guiltless death I die. EMILIA O, who hath done this deed? 8. Should gape at the change. Earthquakes were associated with eclipses.

>)

Onn

EEO

22

|

883

DESDEMONA Nobody. I myself. Farewell. Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell! She dies. OTHELLO Why, how should she be murdered? EMILIA 130

135

EMILIA

140

wantonness

Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

OTHELLO She was false as water. Thou art rash as fire to say EMILIA That she was false. O, she was heavenly true! Cassio did top her. Ask thy husband else.° OTHELLO O, I were damned beneath all depth in hell But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity! Thy husband knew it all. EMILIA My husband? OTHELLO Thy husband. EMILIA That she was false to wedlock? OTHELLO

150

Alas, who knows?

OTHELLO You heard her say herself it was not I. EMILIA She said so; I must needs report the truth. OTHELLO She's like a liar gone to burning hell! "Twas I that killed her! EMILIA O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil! OTHELLO She turned to folly,° and she was a whore.

if you doubt it

Ay, with Cassio. Had she been true,

If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,° I'd not have sold her for it. My husband? EMILIA Ay, ‘twas he that told me on her first. OTHELLO

topaz

An honest man he is, and hates the slime

That sticks on filthy deeds. My husband? EMILIA OTHELLO

160

165

What needs this iterance,°? woman?

repetition

I say, thy husband. EMILIA O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with? love!” My husband say she was false? He, woman, OTHELLO I say, thy husband; dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband; honest, honest lago. EMILIA If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day! He lies to th’heart. She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. OTHELLO Ha? EMILIA Do thy worst. This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her. OTHELLO

eMILIA

Peace, you were best!°

Thou hast not half that power to do me harm

9, Lines 155—58 do not appear in Q. 1. Le., her marriage, or her husband.

at

it would be best for you

884

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

As I have to be hurt. O gull,° O dolt! As ignorant as dirt! Thou hast done a deed—

fool

[He draws his sword.| 170

I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives. Help, help, ho, help! The Moor hath killed my mistress! Murder, murder! Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others.

180

MONTANO What is the matter? How now, general? EMILIA OQ, are you come, Iago? You have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck. GRATIANO What is the matter? EMILIA [to 1AGO] _Disprove this villain, if thou be’st a man. He says thou told’st him that his wife was false. I know thou didst not; thou’rt not such a villain. Speak, for my heart is full. 1AGo__I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true. EMILIA But did you ever tell him she was false? 1AGo_I did. EMILIA You told a lie, an odious damnéd lie! Upon my soul, a lie! a wicked lie! She false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio? 1AGoO. With Cassio, mistress! Go to, charm® your tongue! EMILIA | will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak: My mistress here lies murdered in her bed— ALL O heavens forfend!— EMILIA [to IAGO] And your reports have set the murder on. OTHELLO

200

silence

Nay, stare not, masters; it is true indeed.

GRATIANO "Tis a strange truth. MONTANO O monstrous act! EMILIA Villainy, villainy, villainy! I think upon’, I think I smell’t. O villainy! I thought so then.—I’Il kill myself for grief! O villainy! villainy! 1AGO What, are you mad? I charge you get you home! EMILIA Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak. "Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will ne’er go home.

OTHELLO

O! O! O!

Falls on the bed. EMILIA Nay, lay thee down and roar, 205

For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent That e’er did lift up eye.° OTHELLO [rising] O, she was foul! [to GRATIANO] I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies

(to heaven)

your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopped.

I know this act shows? horrible and grim. 2. Lines 189-98 do not appear in Q.

appears

OME

210

MEO

eZ

GRATIANO Poor Desdemon, I am glad thy father’s dead; Thy match® was mortal to him, and pure grief

|

885

marriage

Shore his old thread in twain.’ Did he live now,

215

This sight would make him do a desperate turn;° Yea, curse his better angel from his side And fall to reprobance.* OTHELLO ‘Tis pitiful; but yet lago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame

act

A thousand times committed. Cassio confessed it, 220

And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance® and pledge of love Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand; It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother. EMILIA O God! O heavenly God! ’Swounds, hold your peace! IAGO EMILIA “Twill out, twill out! I peace? No, I will speak as liberal as the north;?

token

Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,

All, all cry shame against me, yet I'll speak! 1AGo._

Be wise, and get you home.

[1aGo threatens EMILIA with his sword.| 230

w Ww wi

240

I will not! EMILIA woman? a upon sword Your Fie! GRATIANO O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speak’st of EMILIA I found by fortune and did give my husband; For often with a solemn earnestness— More than indeed belonged to such a trifle— He begged of me to steal’t. Villainous whore! IAGO EMILIA She give it Cassio? No, alas, I found it, And I did giv’t my husband. Filth, thou liest! IAGO do not, gentlemen.— I not! By heaven, I do EMILIA should such a fool What coxcomb!° O murderous Do with so good a wife? Are there no stones° in heaven OTHELLO But what serves for the thunder? Precious? villain! The Moor runs at 1AGO. [MONTANO disarms OTHELLO. | 1AGo [stabs] his wife. The woman falls; sure he hath killed his wife. GRATIANO

245

Exit 1AGo. EMILIA Ay, ay. O lay me by my mistress’ side. killed. wife’s He's gone, but his GRATIANO "Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, MONTANO Which I have here recovered from the Moor. Come, guard the door without; let him not pass, But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, 3. Cut the thread of his life. 4. Suicide, the unforgivably sinful act of despair.

5. As freely as the north wind.

fool thunderbolts absolute

886

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

For ‘tis a damnéd slave. Exeunt MONTANO, GRATIANO [and all but OTHELLO and EMILIA].

OTHELLO 250

I am not valiant neither,

But every puny whipster® gets my sword. But why should honor outlive honesty?° Let it go all. EMILIA What did thy song bode, lady?’ Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan,

insignificant person

And die in music. [Sings] “Willow, willow, willow.” 255

Moor, she was chaste. She loved thee, cruel Moor.

So come my soul to bliss as I speak true! So speaking as I think, alas, I die. She dies. OTHELLO I have another weapon in this chamber; 260

It was a sword of Spain, the ice-brook’s temper.° tempered in icy water O, here it is—Uncle, I must come forth. GRATIANO [within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear;

Thou hast no weapon and perforce must suffer. OTHELLO Look in upon me then and speak with me, Or, naked? as I am, | will assault thee. [Enter GRATIANO.|

GRATIANO OTHELLO

iS)~—I wa

unarmed

What is the matter? Behold, I have a weapon;

A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh. I have seen the day That with this little arm and this good sword I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop.° But O, vain boast! Who can control his fate? "Tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed.® Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt® And very seamark°® of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismayed? ’Tis a lost® fear. Man but a rush® against Othello’s breast And he retires.° Where should Othello go?

power to stop

destination beacon an unnecessary aim even a reed falls back

[to DESDEMONA| Now, how dost thou look now? O

280

ill-starred wench, Pale as thy smock. When we shall meet at count,° This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. [He touches her.] Cold, cold, my girl? Even like thy chastity. O curséd, curséd slave! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight!

Judgment Day

Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulfur,

6. Why should military reputation outlive integrity? 7. Lines 252-54 (“What ... willow.’”) do not

appear in Q. 8. Lines 272—78 do not appear in Q.

OTHELLO

#2)

||

887

Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemon! dead Desdemon; dead. O, O!

Enter LODOVICO,

CASsiO in a chair, MONTANO, and

IAGO, with OFFICERS.

Lopovico’ OTHELLO Lopovico

Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? That’s he that was Othello; here I am. Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth.

OTHELLO I look down towards his feet,’ but that’s a fable; If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee. [Wounds 1AGo.]

295

Lopovico’

Wrench his sword from him.

IAGO OTHELLO

I bleed, sir, but not killed. I am not sorry, neither; I’d have thee live,

For in my sense°® ‘tis happiness to die. Lopovico

300

310

O thou Othello, that was once so good,

Fallen in the practice® of a curséd slave, What shall be said to thee? OTHELLO Why, anything: An honorable murderer, if you will; For naught I did in hate, but all in honor. Lopovico’ This wretch hath part confessed his villainy. Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death? OTHELLO Ay. cassio.

305

state of feeling

plot

Dear general, I never gave you cause.

OTHELLO I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand? that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? iAGO. Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word. Lopovico What, not to pray? Torments® will ope your lips. GRATIANO

ask

tortures

Well, thou dost best. OTHELLO Sir, you shall understand what hath befall’n, Lopovico Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter 315

Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo, And here another. The one of them imports The death of Cassio, to be undertook

By Roderigo. OTHELLO O villain! Most heathenish and most gross!° CASSIO another discontented paper here’s Now Ltopovico 320

monstrous

Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,

Roderigo meant t’have sent this damned villain,

But that, belike,° Iago in the interim

Came in and satisfied him. O thou pernicious caitiff!°— OTHELLO How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief

9. To look for the devil’s cloven feet.

most likely wretch

888

|

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

That was my wife’s? CASSIO I found it in my chamber; And he himself confessed it, but even now,

That there he dropped it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire. OTHELLO 330

O fool, fool, fool!

cassio_ There is besides in Roderigo’s letter How he upbraids Iago that he made him Brave® me upon the watch, whereon it came That I was cast;° and even but now he spake,

defy dismissed

After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, lago set him on. 335

LODOVICO [to OTHELLO] go with us.

You must forsake this room and

Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and hold him? long, 340

It shall be his. You shall close® prisoner rest Till that the nature of your fault be known

To the Venetian state. [to officers] Come, bring away. OTHELLO Soft you;° a word or two before you go.

(alive) tightly confined

wait

I have done the state some service, and they know’t; 345

350

No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous but, being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Judean,! threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe, of one whose subdued? eyes,

355

360

Albeit unuséd to the melting mood, Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinable gum.° Set you down this; And say besides that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by th’throat the circumcised dog And smote him—thus! He stabs himself. Lopovico

O bloody period!°®

GRATIANO OTHELLO [to DESDEMONA] No way but this,

(by grief)

myrrh

conclusion

All that is spoke is marred. I kissed thee ere I killed thee.

Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. He [kisses DESDEMONA and] dies. 1. Probably alludes to Judas Iscariot, betrayer of Jesus. “Base Indian,” in the quarto, suggests naive gullibility rather than malice.

OM HELO

365

370

This did I fear, b ut thought he had no weapon, For he was great of hea rt. O Spartan dog,’ LODOVICO [to IAGO] or the sea, hunger, anguish, than fell° More Look on the tragic loading of this bed: This is thy work. The object poisons sight; Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house

az

|

889

cassio_

cruel

And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,

For they succeed on you. [to cassio] To you, lord governor,

sentence

Remains the censure? of this hellish villain; The time, the place, the torture—O, enforce it! Me)

Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate. 1603—04

Exeunt. 1623

Also the people of ancient Sparta were reputed 2. A bloodhound; hence a relentles s, bloodthirsty man.

to be inhumane and unfeeling.

a

co

The Early Seventeenth

Century

1603-1660 1603:

1605:

1607:

Death of Elizabeth I; accession of James I, first Stuart king of England The Gunpowder Plot, a failed effort by Catholic extremists to blow up Parliament and the king Establishment of first permanent English colony in the New World at Jamestown, Virginia

1625: 1642: 1649:

Death of James I; accession of Charles I Outbreak of civil war; theaters closed Execution of Charles I; beginning of Com-

monwealth and Protectorate, known inclusively as the Interregnum (1649—60)

1660:

End of the Protectorate; restoration of Charles II

ueen Elizabeth died on March 24, 1603, after

ruling England for more than four decades. The Virgin Queen had not, of course, produced a child to inherit her throne, but her kinsman,

the

thirty-six-year-old James Stuart, James VI of Scotland, succeeded her as James I without the violence that many had feared. Many welcomed the accession of a man in the prime of life, supposing that he would prove more decisive than his notoriously vacillating predecessor. Worries over the succession, which had plagued the reigns of the Tudor monarchs since Henry VIII, could finally subside: James already had several children with his queen, Anne of Denmark. Writers and scholars jubilantly noted that their new

Sacred and Profane Love (detail), ca. 1515, Titian. For more information about this image, see the color insert in this volume. 891

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ruler had literary inclinations. He was the author of treatises on government and witchcraft, and some youthful efforts at poetry. Nonetheless, there were grounds for disquiet. James had come to maturity in Scotland, in the seventeenth century a foreign land with a different church, different customs, and different institutions of government. Two of his books, The True Law of Free Monarchies (1598) and Basilikon Doron

(1599), expounded authoritarian theories of kingship: James’s views seemed incompatible with the English tradition of “mixed” government, in which power was shared by the monarch, the House of Lords, and the House of Commons. As Thomas Howard wrote in 1611, while Elizabeth “did talk of her subjects’ love and good affection,” James “talketh of his subjects’ fear

and subjection.” James liked to imagine himself as a modern version of the wise, peace-loving Roman Augustus Caesar, who autocratically governed a vast empire. The Romans had deified their emperors, and while the Christian James could not expect the same, he insisted on his closeness to divinity. Kings, he believed, derived their powers from God rather than from the people. As God’s specially chosen delegate, surely he deserved his subjects’ reverent, unconditional obedience.

Yet unlike the charismatic Elizabeth, James was personally unprepossessing. One contemporary, Anthony Weldon, provides a barbed description: “His tongue too large for his mouth, which ever made him speak full in the mouth, and drink very uncomely as if eating his drink . . . he never washed his hands . . . his walk was ever circular, his fingers ever in that walk fiddling about his codpiece.” Unsurprisingly, James did not always inspire in his subjects the deferential awe to which he thought himself entitled. The relationship between the monarch and his people and the relationship between England and Scotland would be sources of friction throughout James’s reign. James had hoped to unify his domains as a single nation, “the empire of Britain.” But the two realms’ legal and ecclesiastical systems proved difficult to reconcile, and the English Parliament, traditionally a sporadically convened advisory body to the monarch, offered robustly xenophobic opposition. The failure of unification was only one of several clashes with the English Parliament, especially with the House of Commons, which had authority over taxation. After James died in 1625 and his son, Charles I, succeeded him, tensions persisted and intensified. Charles, indeed,

attempted to rule without summoning Parliament at all between 1629 and 1638. By 1642 England was up in arms, in a civil war between the king’s forces and armies loyal to the House of Commons. The conflict ended with Charles's defeat and beheading in 1649. Although in the early 1650s the monarchy as an institution seemed as dead as the man who had last worn the crown, an adequate replacement proved difficult to devise. Executive power devolved upon a “Lord Protector,” Oliver Cromwell, former general of the parliamentary forces, who wielded power nearly as autocratically as Charles had done. Yet without an institutionally sanctioned method of transferring power upon Cromwell’s death in 1658, the attempt to fashion a commonwealth without a hereditary monarch eventually failed. In 1660 Parliament invited the eldest son of the old king home from exile. He succeeded to the throne as King Charles II. As James's accession marks the beginning of “the early seventeenth century,” his grandson’s marks the end. Literary periods often fail to correlate

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neatly with the reigns of monarchs, and the period 1603—60 can seem especially arbitrary. Many of the most important cultural trends in seventeenthcentury Europe neither began nor ended in these years but were in the process of unfolding slowly, over several centuries. The Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century was still ongoing in the seventeenth, and still producing turmoil. The printing press, invented in the fifteenth century, made books ever more widely available, contributing to an expansion of literacy and to a changed conception of authorship. Although the English economy remained primarily agrarian, its manufacturing and trade sectors were expanding rapidly. England was beginning to establish itself as a colonial power and as a leading maritime nation. From

1550 on, London grew

explosively as a center of population, trade, and literary endeavor. All these developments got under way before James came to the throne, and many of them would continue after the 1714 death of James's great-granddaughter Queen Anne, the last of the Stuarts to reign in England. From a literary point of view, 1603 can seem a particularly capricious dividing line because at the accession of James I so many writers happened to be in midcareer. The professional lives of William Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, John Donne, Francis Bacon, Walter Ralegh, and many less important writers—Thomas Dekker, George Chapman, Samuel Daniel, Michael Dray-

ton, and Thomas Heywood, for instance—straddle the reigns of Elizabeth and James. The Restoration of Charles I, with which this section ends, is

likewise a more significant political than literary milestone: John Milton completed Paradise Lost and wrote two other major poems in the 1660s. Nonetheless, recognizing the years 1603—60 as a period sharpens our awareness of some important political, intellectual, cultural, and stylistic currents that bear directly upon literary production. It helps focus attention too upon the seismic shift in national consciousness that, in 1649, could permit the formal trial, conviction, and execution of an anointed king at the hands

of his former subjects.

STATE

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1603-40

In James’s reign, the most pressing difficulties were apparently financial, but money troubles were merely symptoms of deeper quandaries about the proper relationship between the king and the people. Compared to James's native Scotland, England seemed a prosperous nation, but James was less wealthy than he believed. Except in times of war, the Crown was supposed to fund the government not through regular taxation but through its own extensive land revenues and by exchanging Crown prerogatives, such as the collection of taxes on luxury imports, in return for money or services. Yet

the Crown's independent income had declined throughout the sixteenth century as inflation eroded the value of land rents. Meanwhile, innovations in military technology and shipbuilding dramatically increased the expense of port security and other defenses, a traditional Crown responsibility. Elizabeth had responded to straitened finances with parsimony, transferring much of the expense of her court, for instance, onto wealthy subjects,

whom she visited for extended periods on her summer “progresses.” She kept a tight lid on honorific titles too, creating new knights or peers very rarely,

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even though the years of her reign saw considerable upward social mobility. In consequence, by 1603 there was considerable pent-up pressure both for “honors” and for more tangible rewards for government officials. As soon as James came to power, he was immediately besieged with supplicants. James responded with what seemed to him appropriate royal munificence, knighting and ennobling many of his courtiers and endowing them with opulent gifts. His expenses were unavoidably higher than Elizabeth’s, because he had to maintain not only his own household, but also separate establishments for his queen and for the heir apparent, Prince Henry. Yet he quickly became notorious for his financial heedlessness. Compared to Elizabeth’s, his court was disorderly and wasteful, marked by hard drinking, gluttonous feasting, and a craze for hunting. “It is not possible for a king of England . . . to be rich or safe, but by frugality,” warned James’s lord treasurer, Robert Cecil, but James seemed unable to restrain himself. Soon he was deep in debt and unable to convince Parliament to bankroll him by raising taxes.

The king’s financial difficulties set his authoritarian assertions about the monarch’s supremacy at odds with Parliament’s control over taxation. How were his prerogatives as a ruler to coexist with the rights of his subjects? Particularly disturbing to many was James's tendency to bestow high offices upon favorites apparently chosen for good looks rather than for good judgment. James’s openly romantic attachment first to Robert Carr, earl of Somerset, and then to George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, gave rise to widespread rumors of homosexuality at court. The period had complex attitudes toward same-sex relationships; on the one hand, “sodomy” was a capital crime (though it was rarely prosecuted); on the other hand, passionately intense male friendship, sometimes suffused with eroticism, constituted an important cultural ideal. In James’s case, at least, contemporaries considered his susceptibility to lovely, expensive youths more a political than a moral calamity. For his critics, it crystallized what was wrong with unlimited royal power: the ease with which a king could confuse his own whim with a divine mandate. Despite James's ungainly demeanor, his frictions with Parliament, and his chronic problems of self-management, he was politically astute. Often, like Elizabeth, he succeeded not through decisiveness but through canny inaction. Cautious by temperament, he characterized himself as a peacemaker and, for many years, successfully kept England out of the religious wars raging on the Continent. His 1604 peace treaty with England’s old enemy, Spain, made the Atlantic safe for English ships, a prerequisite for the colonization of the New World and for regular long-distance trading expeditions into the Mediterranean and down the African coast into the Indian Ocean. During James's reign the first permanent English settlements were

established in North America, first at Jamestown,

then in Bermuda,

at

Plymouth, and in the Caribbean. In 1611 the East India Company established England’s first foothold in India. Even when expeditions ended disastrously, as did Henry Hudson's 1611 attempt to find the Northwest Passage and Walter Ralegh’s 1617 expedition to Guiana, they often asserted territorial claims that England would exploit in later decades. Although the Crown’s deliberate attempts to manage the economy were often misguided, its frequent inattention or refusal to interfere had the unin-

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tentional effect of stimulating growth. Early seventeenth-century entrepreneurs undertook a wide variety of schemes for industrial or agricultural improvement. Some ventures were almost as loony as Sir Politic Would-be’s ridiculous moneymaking notions in Ben Jonson’s Volpone (1606), but others

were serious, profitable enterprises. In the south, domestic industries began manufacturing goods like pins and light woolens that had previously been imported. In the north, newly developed coal mines provided fuel for England’s growing cities. In the east, landowners drained wetlands, producing more arable land to feed England’s rapidly growing population. These endeavors gave rise to a new respect for the practical arts, a faith in technology as a means of improving human life, and a conviction that the future might be better than the past: all important influences upon the scientific theories of Francis Bacon and his seventeenth-century followers. Economic growth in this period owed more to the initiative of individuals and small groups than to government policy, a factor that encouraged a reevaluation of the role of self-interest, the profit motive, and the role of business con-

tracts in the betterment of the community. This reevaluation was a prerequisite for the secular, contractual political theories proposed by Thomas Hobbes and John Locke later in the seventeenth century. On the vexations faced by the Church of England, James was likewise often most successful when he was least activist. Since religion cemented sociopolitical order, it seemed necessary to English rulers that all of their subjects belong to a single church. Yet how could they do so when the Reformation had discredited many familiar religious practices and had bred disagreement over many theological issues? Sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury English people argued over many religious topics. How should public worship be conducted, and what sorts of qualifications should ministers possess? How should Scripture be understood? How should people pray? What did the sacrament of Communion mean? What happened to people’s souls after they died? Elizabeth’s government had needed to devise a common religious practice when actual consensus was impossible. Sensibly, it sought a middle ground between traditional and reformed views. Everyone was legally required to attend Church of England services, and the form of the services themselves was mandated in the Elizabethan Book of Common Prayer. The Book of Common Prayer deliberately avoided addressing abstruse theological controversies. The language of the English church service was carefully chosen to be open to several interpretations and acceptable to both Protestant- and Catholic-leaning subjects. The Elizabethan compromise effectively tamed many of the Reformation’s divisive energies and proved acceptable to the majority of Elizabeth’s subjects. To staunch Catholics on one side and ardent Protestants on the other, however, the Elizabethan church seemed to have sacrificed truth to

political expediency. Catholics wanted to return England to the Roman fold; while some of them were loyal subjects of the queen, others advocated

invasion by a foreign Catholic power. Meanwhile the Puritans, as they were disparagingly called, pressed for more thoroughgoing reformation in doctrine, ritual, and church government, urging the elimination of “popish” elements from worship services and “idolatrous” religious images from churches. Some, the Presbyterians, wanted to separate lay and clerical power in the national church, so that church leaders would be appointed by other

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ministers, not by secular authorities. Others, the separatists, advocated abandoning a national church in favor of small congregations of the “elect.” The resistance of religious minorities to Elizabeth’s established church opened them to state persecution. In the 1580s and 1590s, Catholic priests and the laypeople who harbored them were executed for treason, and radical Protestants for heresy. Both groups greeted James’s accession enthusiastically; his mother had been the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots, while his upbringing had been in the strict Reformed tradition of the Scottish Presbyterian Kirk. James began his reign with a conference at Hampton Court, one of his palaces, at which advocates of a variety of religious views could openly debate them. Yet the Puritans failed to persuade him to make any substantive reforms. Practically speaking, the Puritan belief that congregations should choose their leaders diminished the monarch’s power by stripping him of authority over ecclesiastical appointments. More generally, allowing people to choose their leaders in any sphere of life threatened to subvert the entire system of deference and hierarchy upon which the institution of monarchy itself seemed to rest. “No bishop, no king,” James famously remarked. Nor did Catholics fare well in the new reign. Initially inclined to lift Elizabeth’s sanctions against them, James hesitated when he realized how entrenched was the opposition to toleration. Then, in 1605, a small group of disaffected Catholics packed a cellar adjacent to the Houses of Parliament with gunpowder, intending to detonate it on the day that the king formally opened Parliament, with Prince Henry, the Houses of Lords and Commons,

and the leading justices in attendance. The conspirators were arrested before they could effect their plan. If the “Gunpowder Plot” had succeeded, it would have eliminated much of England’s ruling class in a single tremendous explosion, leaving the land vulnerable to invasion by a foreign, Catholic power. Not surprisingly, the Gunpowder Plot dramatically heightened antiCatholic paranoia in England, and its apparently miraculous revelation was widely seen as a sign of God’s care for England’s Protestant governors. By and large, then, James’s ecclesiastical policies continued along the lines laid down by Elizabeth. By appointing bishops of varying doctrinal views, he restrained any single faction from controlling church policy. The most important religious event of James’s reign was a newly commissioned translation of the Bible. First published in 1611, it was a typically moderating document. A much more graceful rendering than its predecessor, the Geneva version produced by Puritan expatriates in the 1550s, the King James Bible immediately became the standard English Scripture. Its impressive rhythms and memorable phrasing would influence writers for centuries. On the one hand, the new translation contributed to the Protestant

aim of making the Bible widely available to every reader in the vernacular. On the other hand, unlike the Geneva Bible, the King James Version trans-

lated controversial and ambiguous passages in ways that bolstered conservative preferences for a ceremonial church and for a hierarchically organized church government. James's moderation was not universally popular. Some Protestants yearned for a more confrontational policy toward Catholic powers, particularly toward Spain, England’s old enemy. In the first decade of James's reign, this party clustered around James’s eldest son and heir apparent, Prince Henry,

The Execution of the Gunpowder Plot Conspirators. This engraving by the Dutch artist Crispijn van de Passe shows the execution of the Gunpowder Conspirators for treason in January 1606. The punishment for treason was deliberately “cruel and unusual”: the traitor was sentenced to be dragged through town on a wicker hurdle “at horse’s tail,’ hanged but cut down while still conscious, and then castrated, disemboweled, beheaded, and his body cut into four pieces and parboiled. Though the punishment was often commuted to simple beheading or hanging, in the case of the Gunpowder Conspirators it was carried out in its entirety. On the left, the condemned men are taken to the place of execution. In the middle, the heart of one of the conspirators is being torn out, to be thrown into the fire. On the right, the heads of the conspirators are mounted on poles for display.

who cultivated a militantly Protestant persona. When Henry died of typhoid fever in 1612, those who favored his policies were forced to seek avenues of power outside the royal court. By the 1620s, the House of Commons was developing a vigorous sense of its own independence, debating policy agendas often quite at odds with the Crown’s and openly attempting to use its power to approve taxation as a means of exacting concessions from the king.

James’s second son, Prince Charles, came to the throne upon James's death in 1625. Unlike his father, Charles was not a theorist of royal absolutism, but he acted on that principle with an inflexibility that his father had never been able to muster. By 1629 he had dissolved Parliament three times in frustration with its recalcitrance, and he then embarked upon more than

a decade of “personal rule” without Parliament. Charles was more prudent in some respects than his father had been—he not only restrained the costs of his own court, but paid off his father’s staggering debts by the early 1630s. Throughout his reign, he conscientiously applied himself to the business of government. Yet his refusal to involve powerful individuals and factions in the workings of the state inevitably alienated them, even while it cut him off dangerously from important channels of information about the reactions of his people. Money was a constant problem, too. Even a relatively frugal king required some funds for ambitious government initiatives; but without parliamentary approval, any taxes Charles imposed were widely perceived as illegal. As a result, even wise policies, such as Charles's effort to build up the English navy, spawned misgivings among many of his subjects. Religious conflicts intensified. Charles’s queen, the French princess Henrietta Maria, supported an entourage of Roman Catholic priests, protected English Catholics, and encouraged several noblewomen in her court to convert to the Catholic faith. While Charles remained a staunch member of the Church of England, he loved visual splendor and majestic ceremony

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in all aspects of life, spiritual and otherwise—proclivities that led his Puritan subjects to suspect him of popish sympathies. Charles's profound attachment to his wife, so different from James’s neglect of Anne, only deepened their qualms. Like many fellow Puritans, Lucy Hutchinson blamed the entire debacle of Charles's reign on his wife’s influence. Charles’s appointment of William Laud as archbishop of Canterbury, the ecclesiastical head of the English Church, further alienated Puritans. Laud subscribed to a theology that most Puritans rejected. As followers of the sixteenth-century reformer John Calvin, Puritans held that salvation depended upon faith in Christ, not “works.” Works were meaningless because the deeds of sinful human beings could not be sanctified in the absence of faith; moreover, the Fall had so thoroughly corrupted human beings that they could not muster this faith without the help of God’s grace. God chose (or refused) to extend grace to particular individuals on grounds that human beings were incapable of comprehending, and his decision had been made from eternity, before the individuals concerned were even born. In other words, Puritans believed, God predestined people to be saved or damned, and Christ’s redemptive sacrifice was designed only for the saved group, the “elect.” Laud, by contrast, advocated the Arminian doctrine that through Christ, God made redemption freely available to all human beings. Individuals could choose whether or not to respond to God’s grace, and they could work actively toward their salvation by acts of charity, ritual devotion, and generosity to the church. Although Laud’s theology appears more generously inclusive than the Calvinist alternative, his ecclesiastical policies were uncompromising. Stripping many Puritan ministers of their posts, Laud aligned the doctrine and ceremonies of the English church with Roman Catholicism, which like Arminianism held works in high regard. In an ambitious project of church renovation, Laud installed religious paintings and images in churches; he thought they promoted reverence in worshippers, but the Puritans believed they encouraged idolatry. He rebuilt and resituated altars, making them more ornate and prominent: another change that dismayed Puritans, since it implied that the Eucharist rather than the sermon was the central element of a worship service. In the 1630s thousands of Puritans departed for the New England colonies, but many more remained at home, deeply discontented. As the 1630s drew to a close, Archbishop Laud and Charles attempted to impose a version of the English liturgy and episcopal organization upon Presbyterian Scotland. Unlike his father, Charles had little acquaintance with his northern realm, and he drastically underestimated the difficulties involved. The Scots objected both on nationalist and on religious grounds, and they were not shy about expressing their objections: the bishop of Brechin, obliged to conduct divine service in the prescribed English style, mounted the pulpit armed with two pistols against his unruly congregation, while his wife, stationed on the floor below, backed him up with a blunderbuss. In the conflict that followed, the Bishops’ Wars of 1639 and 1640, Charles's forces met with abject defeat. Exacerbating the situation, Laud was

simultaneously insisting upon greater conformity within the English church. Riots in the London streets and the Scots’ occupation of several northern English cities foreed Charles to call the so-called Long Parliament, which would soon be managing a revolution.

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1603-40

Old Ideas and New

In the first part of the seventeenth century, exciting new scientific theories were in the air, but the older ways of thinking about the nature of things had not yet been superseded. Writers such as John Donne, Robert Burton, and Ben Jonson often invoked an inherited body of concepts even though they were aware that those concepts were being questioned or displaced. The Ptolemaic universe, with its fixed earth and circling sun, moon, planets, and stars, was a rich source of poetic imagery. So were the four elements—fire, earth, water, and air—that together were thought to comprise all matter,

and the four bodily humors—choler, blood, phlegm, and black bile—which were supposed to determine a person’s temperament and to cause physical and mental disease when out of balance. Late Elizabethans and Jacobeans (so called from Jacobus, Latin for James) considered themselves especially prone to melancholy, an ailment of scholars and thinkers stemming from an excess of black bile. Shakespeare’s Hamlet is melancholic, as is Bosola in John Webster’s Duchess of Malfi and Milton’s title figure in “I] Penseroso’ (“the serious-minded one”). In his panoramic Anatomy of Melancholy, Burton argued that melancholy was universal. Key concepts of the inherited system of knowledge were analogy and order. Donne was especially fond of drawing parallels between the macrocosm, or “big world,” and the microcosm,

or “little world,” of the individual human

being. Also widespread were versions of the “chain of being” that linked and ordered various kinds of beings in hierarchies. The order of nature, for instance, put God above angels, angels above human beings, human beings above animals, animals above plants, plants above rocks. The social order

installed the king over his nobles, nobles over the gentry, gentry over yeomen, yeomen over common

laborers. The order of the family set husband

above wife, parents above children, master and mistress above servants, the elderly above the young. Each level had its peculiar function, and each was connected to those above and beneath in a tight network of obligation and dependency. Items that occupied similar positions in different hierarchies were related by analogy: thus a monarch was like God, and he was also like a father, the head of the family, or like a lion, most majestic of beasts, or like the sun, the most excellent of heavenly bodies. A medieval or Renaissance poet who calls a king a sun or a lion, then, imagines himself not to be forging a metaphor in his own creative imagination, but to be describing something like an obvious fact of nature. Many Jacobean tragedies depict the catastrophes that ensue when these hierarchies rupture and both the social order and the natural order disintegrate. Yet this conceptual system was itself beginning to crumble. Francis Bacon advocated rooting out of the mind all the intellectual predilections that had made the old ideas so attractive: love of ingenious correlations, reverence for tradition, and a priori assumptions about what was possible in nature. Instead, he argued, groups of collaborators ought to design controlled experiments to find the truths of nature by empirical means. Even as Bacon was promoting his views in The Advancement of Learning, Novum Organum, and The New Atlantis, actual experiments and discoveries were calling the

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ioe SG MY Lins RY

The Great Chain of Being. This illustration of the “Great Chain of Being” shows the hierarchy of the universe according to Christian orthodoxy. God is at the top of the diagram surrounded by angels, with the blessed souls in heaven sitting on clouds just beneath; below them is the layer of humans, with Eve emerging from Adam’s rib in the center; below that are layers of birds, fish, and beasts;

below that is a layer of plants upon the earth. All these layers are connected by a chain running down the middle, imagined as connecting all of God’s creation. At the bottom, detached from the Great Chain, are Satan and his rebel angels, who can be seen falling from heaven into hell in the right margin.

old verities into question. From the far-flung territories England was beginning to colonize or to trade with, collectors brought animal, plant, and ethnological

novelties,

many

of which

were

hard

to subsume

under

old

categories of understanding. William Harvey’s discovery that blood circulated in the body shook received views on the function of blood, casting doubt on the theory of the humors. Galileo’s telescope provided evidence

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confirming Copernican astronomical theory, which dislodged the earth from its stable central position in the cosmos and, in defiance of all ordinary observation, set it whirling around the sun. Galileo found evidence as well of change in the heavens, which were supposed to be perfect and incorruptible above the level of the moon. Donne, like other writers of his age, responded with a mixture of excitement and anxiety to such novel ideas as these:

And new philosophy calls all in doubt: The element of fire is quite put out; The sun is lost, and the earth, and no man’s wit Can well direct him where to look for it.

Several decades later, however, Milton embraced the new science, proudly recalling a visit during his European tour to “the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought.” In Paradise Lost, he would make complex poetic use of the astronomical controversy, considering how, and how far, humans should pursue scientific knowledge.

Patrons, Printers, and Acting Companies The social institutions, customs, and practices that had supported and regulated writers in Tudor times changed only gradually before 1640. As it had under Elizabeth, the church promoted writing of several kinds: devotional treatises; guides to meditation; controversial tracts; “cases of conscience,”

which work out difficult moral issues in complex situations; and especially sermons. Since everyone was required to attend church, everyone heard sermons at least once and often twice on Sunday, as well as on religious or national holidays. The essence of a sermon, Protestants agreed, was the

careful exposition of Scripture, and its purpose was to instruct and to move. Yet styles varied; while some preachers, like Donne, strove to enthrall their

congregations with all the resources of artful rhetoric, others, especially many Puritans, sought an undecorated style that would display God’s word in its own splendor. Printing made it easy to circulate many copies of sermons, blurring the line between oral delivery and written text and enhancing the role of printers and booksellers in disseminating God’s word. Many writers of the period depended in one way or another upon literary patronage. A Jacobean or Caroline aristocrat, like his medieval forebears, was expected to reward dependents in return for services and homage. In the early seventeenth century, although commercial relationships were rapidly replacing feudal ones, patronage pervaded all walks of life: governing relationships between landlords and tenants, masters and servants, kings and courtiers. Writers were assimilated into this system partly because their works reflected well on the patron, and partly because their all-around intelligence made them useful members of a great man’s household. Important patrons of the time included the royal family—especially Queen Anne, who sponsored the court masques, and Prince Henry—the members of the intermarried Sidney/Herbert family, and the Countess of Bedford, Queen Anne’s confidante. Because the patronage relationship often took the form of an exchange of favors rather than a simple financial transaction, its terms were variable and

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are difficult to recover with any precision at this historical remove. A poet might dedicate a poem or a work to a patron in the expectation of a simple cash payment. But a patron might provide a wide range of other benefits: a place to live; employment as a secretary, tutor, or household servant; or gifts of clothing (textiles were valuable commodities). Donne, for

instance, received inexpensive lodging from the Drury family, for whom he wrote the Anniversaries; a suit of clerical attire from Lucy Russell, Count-

ess of Bedford, when he took orders in the Church of England; and advancement in the church from King James. Ben Jonson lived for several years at the country estates of Lord Aubigny and of Robert Sidney, in whose honor he wrote “To Penshurst”; he received a regular salary from the king in return for writing court masques; and he served as chaperone to Sir Walter Ralegh’s son on a Continental tour. Aemilia Lanyer apparently resided for some time in the household of Margaret Clifford, Countess of Cumberland. Andrew

Marvell lived for two years with Thomas Fairfax, tutored his daughter, and wrote “Upon Appleton House” for him. All these quite different relationships and forms of remuneration fall under the rubric of patronage. The patronage system required the poets involved to hone their skills at eulogizing their patrons. Jonson’s epigrams and many of Lanyer’s dedicatory poems evoke communities of virtuous poets and patrons joined by bonds of mutual respect and affection. Like the line between sycophantic flattery and truthful depiction, the line between patronage and friendship could be a thin one. Literary manuscripts circulated among circles of acquaintances and supporters, many of whom were, at least occasionally, writers as well as readers. Jonson esteemed Mary Wroth both as a fellow poet and as a member of the Sidney family to whom he owed so much. Donne became part of a coterie around Queen Anne’s closest confidante, Lucy Russell, Countess of Bedford, who was also an important patron for Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, and Samuel Daniel. The countess evidently wrote poems herself, although only one attributed to her has apparently survived. Presenting a poem to a patron, or circulating it among the group of literary people who surrounded the patron, did not require printing it. In earlyseventeenth-century England, the reading public for sophisticated literary works was tiny and concentrated in a few social settings: the royal court, the universities, and the Inns of Court or law schools. In these circumstances,

manuscript circulation could be an effective way of reaching one’s audience. Soa great deal of writing remained in manuscript in early-seventeenthcentury England. The collected works of many important writers of the period—most notably John Donne, George Herbert, William Shakespeare, and Andrew Marvell—appeared in print only posthumously, in editions produced by friends or admirers. Other writers, like Robert Herrick, collected

and printed their own works long after they were written and (probably) circulated in manuscript. In consequence, it is often difficult to date accurately the composition of a seventeenth-century poem. In addition, when authors do not participate in the printing of their own works, editorial problems multiply—when, for instance, the printed version of a poem is inconsistent with a surviving manuscript copy.

Nonetheless, the printing of all kinds of literary works was becoming more common. Writers such as Francis Bacon or Robert Burton, who hoped to reach large numbers of readers with whom they were not acquainted,

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usually arranged for the printing of their texts soon after they were composed. The sense that the printing of lyric poetry, in particular, was a bit vulgar began to fade when the famous Ben Jonson collected his own works in a grand folio edition. Until 1640 the Stuart kings kept in place the strict controls over print publication originally instituted by Henry VIII, in response to the ideological threat posed by the Reformation. King Henry had given the members of London’s Stationer’s Company a monopoly on all printing; in return for their privilege, they were supposed to submit texts to prepublication censorship. In the latter part of the sixteenth century, presses associated with the universities at Oxford and Cambridge would begin operation as well, but they were largely concerned with scholarly and theological books. As a result, with a few exceptions (such as George Herbert's The Temple, published by Cambridge University Press), almost all printed literary texts were produced in London. Most of them were sold there as well, in the booksellers’

stalls set up outside St. Paul’s Cathedral. The licensing system located not only primary responsibility for a printed work but also its ownership, with the printer rather than with the author. Printers typically paid writers a onetime fee for the use of their work, but the payment was scanty, and the authors of popular texts realized no royalties from the many copies sold. As a result, no one could make a living as a writer in the early seventeenth century by producing best sellers. The first writer formally to arrange for royalties was apparently John Milton, who received five pounds up front for Paradise Lost, and another five pounds and two hundred copies at the end of each of the first three impressions. Still, legal ownership of and control over a printed work remained with the printer: authorial copyright would not become a reality until the early eighteenth century. In monetary terms, a more promising outlet for writers was the commercial theater, which provided the first literary market in English history. Profitable and popular acting companies, established successfully in London in Elizabeth’s time, continued to play a very important cultural role under James and Charles. Because the acting companies staged a large number of different plays and paid for them at a predictable, if not generous, rate, they enabled a few hardworking writers to support themselves as fulltime professionals. One of them, Thomas Dekker, commented bemusedly on the novelty of being paid for the mere products of one’s imagination: “the theater,” he wrote, “is your poet’s Royal Exchange upon which their muses—that are now turned to merchants—meeting, barter away that light commodity of words.” In James's reign, Shakespeare was at the height of his powers: Othello, King Lear, Macheth, Antony and Cleopatra, The Winter's Tale, The Tempest, and other major plays were first staged during these years. So were Jonson’s major comedies: Volpone, Epicene, The Alchemist, and Bartholomew Fair. The most important new playwright was John Webster, whose dark tragedies The White Devil and The Duchess of Malf: combined gothic horror with stunningly beautiful poetry. Just as printers were legally the owners of the texts they printed, so theater companies, not playwrights, were the owners of the texts they performed. Typically, companies guarded their scripts closely, permitting them to be printed only in times of financial distress or when they were so old that

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printing them seemed unlikely to reduce the paying audience. As a result, many Jacobean and Caroline plays are lost to us or available only in corrupt or posthumous versions. For contemporaries, though, a play was “published” not by being printed but by being performed. Aware of the dangerous potential of plays in arousing the sentiments of large crowds of onlookers, the Stuarts, like the Tudors before them, instituted tight controls over dramatic

performances. Acting companies, like printers, were obliged to submit works to the censor before public presentation. Authors, printers, and acting companies who flouted the censorships laws were subject to imprisonment, fines, or even bodily mutilation. Queen Elizabeth cut off the hand of a man who disagreed in print with her marriage plans, King Charles the ears of a man who inveighed against court masques. Jonson and his collaborators found themselves in prison for ridiculing King James's broad Scots accent in one of their comedies. The effects of censorship on writers’ output were therefore far reaching across literary genres. Since overt criticism or satire of the great was so dangerous, political writing was apt to be oblique and allegorical. Writers often employed animal fables, tales of distant lands, or long-past historical events to comment upon contemporary issues.

While the commercial theaters were profitable businesses that made most of their money from paying audiences, several factors combined to bring writing for the theater closer to the Stuart court than it had been in Elizabeth’s time. The Elizabethan theater companies had been officially associated with noblemen who guaranteed their legitimacy (in contrast to unsponsored traveling players, who were subject to punishment as vagrants). Early in his reign, James brought the major theater companies under royal auspices. Shakespeare’s company, the most successful of the day, became the King’s Men: it performed not only all of Shakespeare’s plays but also Volpone and The Duchess of Malft. Queen Anne, Prince Henry, Prince Charles, and Princess Elizabeth sponsored other companies of actors. Royal patronage, which brought with it tangible rewards and regular court performances, naturally encouraged the theater companies to pay more attention to courtly taste. Shakespeare’s Macbeth put onstage Scots history and witches, two of James’s own interests; in King Lear, the hero’s disastrous division of his kingdom may reflect controversies over the proposed union of Scotland and England. In the first four decades of the seventeenth century, court-affiliated theater companies such as the King’s Men increasingly cultivated audiences markedly more affluent than the audiences they had sought in the 1580s and 1590s, performing in intimate, expensive indoor theaters instead of, or as well as, in the cheap popular amphitheaters. The Duchess of Malfi, for instance, was probably written with the King’s Men’s indoor theater at Blackfriars in mind, because several scenes depend for their effect upon a control over lighting that is impossible outdoors. Partly because the commercial theaters seemed increasingly to cater to the affluent and courtly elements of society, they attracted the ire of the king’s opponents when civil war broke out in the 1640s. Jacobean Writers and Genres The era saw important changes in poetic fashion. Some major Elizabethan genres fell out of favor—tiong allegorical or mythological narratives, sonnet

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sequences, and pastoral poems. The norm was coming to be short, concentrated, often witty poems. Poets and prose writers alike often preferred the jagged rhythms of colloquial speech to the elaborate ornamentation and near-musical orchestration of sound that many Elizabethans had sought. The major poets of these years, Jonson, Donne, and Herbert, led this shift and also promoted a variety of “new” genres: love elegy and satire after the classical models of Ovid and Horace, epigram, verse epistle, meditative religious lyric, and country-house poem. Although these poets differed enormously from one another, all three exercised a significant influence on the poets of the next generation. A native Londoner, Jonson first distinguished himself as an acute observer of urban manners in a series of early, controversial satiric plays. Although he wrote two of his most moving poems to his dead children, Jonson focused rather rarely on the dynamics of the family relationships that so profoundly concerned his contemporary Shakespeare. When generational and dynastic matters do figure in his poetry, as they do at the end of “To Penshurst,” they seem part of the agrarian, feudal order that Jonson may have romanticized but that he suspected was rapidly disappearing. By and large, Jonson interested himself in relationships that seemed to be negotiated by the participants, often in a bustling urban or courtly world in which blood kinship no longer decisively determined one’s social place. Jonson’s poems of praise celebrate and exemplify classical and humanist ideals of friendship: like-minded men and women elect to join in a community that fosters wisdom, generosity, civic responsibility, and mutual respect. In the plays and satiric poems, Jonson stages the violation of those values with such riotous comprehensiveness that the very survival of such ideals seem endangered: the plays swarm with voracious swindlers and their eager victims, social climbers both adroit and inept, and a dizzying assortment of morons and misfits. In many of Jonson’s plays, rogues or wits collude to victimize others. These stormy, selfinterested alliances, apparently so different from the virtuous friendships of the poems of praise, in fact resemble them in one respect: they are connections entered into by choice, not by law, inheritance, or custom. Throughout his life, Jonson earned his living entirely from his writing, composing plays for the public theater while also attracting patronage as a poet and a writer of court masques. His acute awareness of his audience was partly, then, a sheerly practical matter. Yet Jonson’s yearning for recognition ran far beyond any desire for material reward. A gifted poet, Jonson argued, was a society's proper judge and teacher, and he could be effective only if his audience understood and respected the poet’s exalted role. Jonson set out unabashedly to create that audience and to monumentalize himself as a great English author. In 1616 he took the unusual step, for his time, of collecting his poems, plays, and masques in an elegant folio volume. Jonson’s influence upon the next generation of writers, and through them into the Restoration and the eighteenth century, was an effect both of his poetic mastery of his chosen modes and of his powerful personal example. Jonson mentored a group of younger poets, known as the Tribe, or Sons, of Ben, meeting regularly with some of them in the Apollo Room of the Devil Tavern in London. Many of the royalist, or Cavalier, poets—Robert Herrick, Thomas Carew, Richard Lovelace, Sir John Suckling, Edmund Waller,

Henry Vaughan in his secular verse—proudly acknowledged their rela-

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tionship to Jonson or gave some evidence of it in their verse. Most of them absorbed too Jonson’s attitude toward print and in later decades supervised the publication of their own poems. Donne, like Jonson, spent most of his life in or near London, often in the

company of other writers and intellectuals—indeed, in the company of many of the same writers and intellectuals, since the two men were friends and shared some of the same patrons. Yet, unlike Jonson’s, most of Donne’s

poetry concerns itself not with a crowded social panorama, but with a dyad—with the relationship between the speaker and one single other being, a woman or God—that in its intensity blots out the claims of lesser relationships. Love for Donne encompasses an astonishing range of emotional experiences: from the lusty impatience of “To His Mistress Going to Bed” to the cheerful promiscuity of “The Indifferent” and mysterious platonic telepathy of “Air and Angels”; from the vengeful wit of “The Apparition” to the postcoital tranquility of “The Good Morrow.” While for Jonson the shared meal among friends often becomes an emblem of communion, for Donne sexual consummation has something of the same highly charged symbolic character, a moment in which the isolated individual can, however temporarily, escape the boundaries of selfhood in union with another: The phoenix riddle hath more wit By us: we two being one, are it. So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit. In the religious poems, where Donne both yearns for a physical relationship with God and knows it is impossible, he does not abandon his characteristic bodily metaphors. The doctrine of the Incarnation—God’s taking material form in the person of Jesus Christ—and the doctrine of the bodily resurrection of the dead at the Last Day are Christian teachings that fascinate Donne, to which he returns again and again in his poems, sermons, and devotional writings. While sexual and religious love had long shared a common vocabulary, Donne delights in making that overlap seem new and shocking. He likens conjoined lovers to saints; demands to be raped by God; speculates, after his wife’s death, that God killed her because He was jealous of Donne’s divided loyalty; imagines Christ encouraging his Bride, the church, to “open” herself to as many men as possible. Throughout Donne’s life, his faith, like his intellect, was anything but quiet. Born into a family of devout Roman Catholics just as the persecution of Catholics was intensifying in Elizabethan England, Donne eventually became a member of the Church of England. If “Satire 3” is any indication, the conversion was attended by profound doubts and existential crisis. Donne's restless mind can lead him in surprising and sometimes unorthodox directions. At the same time, overwhelmed with a sense of his own unworthiness, he courts God’s punishment, demanding to be spat upon, flogged, burnt, broken down, in the expectation that suffering at God’s hand will restore him to grace and favor. In both style and content, Donne’s poems were addressed to a select few rather than to the public at large. His style is demanding, characterized by learned terms, audaciously far-fetched analogies, and an intellectually sophisticated play of ironies. Even Donne’s sermons, attended by large crowds, share the knotty difficulty of the poems, and something too of their

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quality of intimate address. Donne circulated his poems in manuscript and largely avoided print publication (most of his poems were printed after his death in 1631). By some critics Donne has been regarded as the founder of

a Metaphysical school of poetry. We find echoes of Donne's style in many later poets: in Thomas Carew, who praised Donne as a “monarch of wit,” George Herbert, Richard Crashaw, John Cleveland, Sir John Suckling, Abraham Cowley, and Andrew Marvell. Herbert, the younger son of a wealthy, cultivated, and well-connected family, seemed destined in early adulthood for a brilliant career as a diplomat or government servant. Yet he turned his back on worldly greatness to be ordained a priest in the Church of England. Moreover, eschewing a highly visible career as an urban preacher, he spent the remaining years of his short life ministering to the tiny rural parish of Bemerton. Herbert’s poetry is shot through with the difficulty and joy of this renunciation, with all it entailed for him. Literary ambition—pride in one’s independent creativity—appears to Herbert a temptation that must be resisted, whether it takes the form of Jonson’s openly competitive aspiration for literary preeminence or Donne’s brilliantly ironic self-displaying performances. Instead, Herbert seeks other models for poetic agency: the secretary taking dictation from a master, the musician playing in harmonious consort with others, the member of a church congregation who speaks with and for a community.

Herbert destroyed his secular verse in English and he turned his volume of religious verse over to a friend only on his deathbed, desiring him to print it if he thought it would be useful to “some dejected poor soul,” but otherwise to burn it. The 177 lyrics contained in that volume, The Temple, display a complex religious sensibility and great artistic subtlety in an amazing variety of stanza forms. Herbert was the major influence on the next generation of religious lyric poets and was explicitly recognized as such by Henry Vaughan and Richard Crashaw. The Jacobean period saw the emergence of what would become a major prose genre, the familiar essay. The works of the French inventor of the form, Michel de Montaigne, appeared in English translation in 1603, influencing Shakespeare as well as such later writers as Sir Thomas Browne. Yet the first essays in English, the work of Francis Bacon, attorney general under Elizabeth and eventually lord chancellor under James, bear little resemblance to Montaigne’s intimate, tentative, conversational pieces. Bacon’s essays present pithy, sententious, sometimes provocative claims in a tone of cool objectivity, tempering moral counsel with an awareness of

the importance of prudence and expediency in practical affairs. In Novum Organum Bacon adapts his deliberately discontinuous mode of exposition to outline a new scientific method, holding out the tantalizing prospect of eventual mastery over the natural world and boldly articulating the ways in which science might improve the human condition. In his fictional Utopia, described in The New Atlantis, Bacon imagines a society that realizes his dream of carefully orchestrated collaborative research, so different from the erratic, uncoordinated efforts of alchemists and amateurs in his own

day. Bacon’s philosophically revolutionary approach to the natural world profoundly impacted scientifically minded people over the next several generations. His writings influenced the materialist philosophy of his erstwhile

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secretary, Thomas Hobbes, encouraged Oliver Cromwell to attempt a largescale overhaul of the university curriculum during the 1650s, and inspired the formation of the Royal Society, an organization of experimental scientists, after the Restoration.

The reigns of the first two Stuart kings mark the entry of Englishwomen, in some numbers, into authorship and publication. Most female writers of the period were from the nobility or gentry; all were much better educated than most women of the period, many of whom remained illiterate. In 1611

Aemilia Lanyer was the first Englishwoman to publish a substantial volume of original poems. It contained poetic dedications, a long poem on Christ’s passion, and a country-house poem, all defending women’s interests and importance. In 1613 Elizabeth Cary, Lady Falkland, was the first Englishwoman to publish a tragedy, Mariam, a closet drama that probes the situation of a queen subjected to her husband’s domestic and political tyranny. In 1617 Rachel Speght, the first female polemicist who can be securely identified, published a defense of her sex in response to a notorious attack upon

“Lewd,

Idle, Froward

and Unconstant

Women’;

she was

also the

author of a long dream-vision poem. Lady Mary Wroth, niece of Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke, wrote a long prose romance, Urania (1612), which presents a range of women’s experiences as lovers, rulers, counselors, scholars, storytellers, poets, and seers. Her Petrarchan sonnet

sequence Pamphilia to Amphilanthus, published with Urania, gives poetic voice to the female in love.

THE

CAROLINE

ERA,

1625-40

When King Charles came to the throne in 1625, “the fools and bawds, mimics and catamites of the former court grew out of fashion,” as the Puri-

tan Lucy Hutchinson recalled. The changed style of the court directly affected the arts and literature of the Caroline period (so called after Carolus, Latin for Charles). Charles and his queen, Henrietta Maria, were art collectors on a large scale and patrons of such painters as Peter Paul

Rubens and Sir Anthony Van Dyke; the latter portrayed Charles as a heroic figure of knightly romance, mounted on a splendid stallion. The conjunction of chivalric virtue and divine beauty or love, symbolized in the union of the royal couple, was the dominant theme of Caroline court masques, which were even more extravagantly hyperbolic than their Jacobean predecessors. Even as Henrietta Maria encouraged an artistic and literary cult of platonic love, several courtier-poets, such as Carew and Suckling, wrote

playful, sophisticated love lyrics that both alluded to this fashion and sometimes urged a more licentiously physical alternative. The religious tensions between the Caroline court’s Laudian church and the Puritan opposition produced something of a culture war. In 1633 Charles reissued the Book of Sports, originally published by his father in 1618, prescribing traditional holiday festivities and Sunday sports in every parish. Like his father, he saw these recreations as the rural, downscale

equivalent of the court masque: harmless, healthy diversions for people who otherwise spent most of their waking hours hard at work. Puritans, however, regarded masques and rustic dances alike as occasions for sin, the

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Maypole as a vestige of pagan phallus worship, and Sunday sports as a profanation of the Sabbath. In 1632 William Prynne staked out the most extreme Puritan position, publishing a tirade of over one thousand pages against stage plays, court masques, Maypoles, Laudian church rituals, stained-glass windows, mixed dancing, and other outrages, all of which he

associated with licentiousness, effeminacy, and the seduction of popish idolatry. For this cultural critique, Prynne was stripped of his academic degrees, ejected from the legal profession, set in the pillory, sentenced to life imprisonment, and had his books burned and his ears cut off. The severity of the punishments indicates the perceived danger of the book and the inextricability of literary and cultural affairs from politics.

King Charles at Prayer. This frontispiece from Eikon Basilike represents the praying

king as a Christlike martyr surrounded by allegorical representations of virtue under trial.

The left background shows a rock besieged by waves in a storm, surmounted with a Latin caption reading “unmoved I triumph.” The left foreground displays palm trees with weights hung to their branches, which was supposed to make them grow more vigorously; the Latin caption reads “Virtue grows under burdens.” A shaft of light pierces the storm clouds to illuminate Charles’s head, with the caption “More clear out of the shadows.” Wearing his coronation robes, Charles is nonetheless shown turning away from this turmoil, having cast aside an earthly crown, labeled “Vanity,” to grasp a crown of thorns, labeled “Grace.” Set before him is a “treatise of Christ” and a Bible reading “In Your Words, My Hope.” Charles is receiving a vision from heaven of the immortal crown, “blessed and eternal,” with which his supporters believed God would reward him.

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Milton’s astonishingly virtuosic early poems also respond to the tensions of the 1630s. Milton repudiated both courtly aesthetics and Prynne’s wholesale prohibitions, developing reformed versions of pastoral, masque, and hymn. In “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity,” the birth of Christ coincides with a casting out of idols and a flight of false gods, stanzas that suggest contemporary Puritan resistance to Archbishop Laud’s policies. Milton’s magnificent funeral elegy “Lycidas” firmly rejects the poetic career of the Cavalier poet, who disregards high artistic ambition to “sport with Amaryllis in the shade / Or with the tangles of Neaera’s hair.’ The poem also vehemently denounces the establishment clergy, ignorant and greedy “blind mouths” who rob their flocks of spiritual nourishment.

THE

REVOLUTIONARY

ERA,

1640-60

Early in the morning on January 30, 1649, Charles Stuart, the dethroned king Charles I, set off across St. James Park for his execution, surrounded by a heavy guard. He wore two shirts because the weather was frigid, and he did not want to look as if he were shivering with fear to the thousands who had gathered to watch him be beheaded. The black-draped scaffold had been erected just outside James I’s elegant Banqueting House, inside of which so many court masques, in earlier decades, had

celebrated the might of the Stuart monarchs and assured them of their people’s love and gratitude. To those who could not attend, newsbooks provided eyewitness accounts of the dramatic events of the execution, as they had of Charles’s trial the week before. Andrew Marvell also memorably describes the execution scene in “An Horatian Ode.” The execution of Charles I was understood at the time, and is still seen by many historians today, as a watershed event in English history. How did it come to pass? Historians do not agree over what caused “the English revolution,” or, as it is alternatively called, the English civil war. One group argues that long-term changes in English society and the English economy led to rising social tensions and eventually to violent conflict. New capitalist modes of production in agriculture, industry, and trade were often incompatible with older feudal norms. The gentry, an affluent, highly educated class below the nobility but above the artisans, mechanics, and yeomen, played an increasingly important part in national affairs, as did the rich merchants in London; but the traditional social hierarchies failed to grant them the economic, political, and religious freedoms they believed they deserved. Another group of historians, the “revisionists,” emphasize instead shortterm and avoidable causes of the war—unlucky chances, personal idiosyncrasies, and poor decisions made by a small group of individuals. Whatever caused the outbreak of hostilities, there is no doubt that the

twenty-year period between 1640 and 1660 saw the emergence of concepts central to bourgeois liberal thought for centuries to come: religious toleration, separation of church and state, freedom from press censorship, and popular sovereignty. These concepts developed out of bitter disputes centering on three fundamental questions: What is the ultimate source of political power? What kind of church government is laid down in Scripture, and therefore ought to be settled in England? What should be the relation between

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the church and the state? The theories that evolved in response to these questions contained the seeds of much that is familiar in modern thought, mixed with much that is forbiddingly alien. It is vital to recognize that the participants in the disputes were not haphazardly attempting to predict the shape of modern liberalism, but were responding powerfully to the most important problems of their day. The need to find right answers seemed particularly urgent for the Millenarians among them, who, interpreting the upheavals of the time through the lens of the apocalyptic Book of Revelation, believed that their day was very near to being the last day of all. When the so-called Long Parliament convened in 1640, it did not plan to execute a monarch or even to start a war. It did, however, want to secure its

rights in the face of King Charles’s perceived absolutist tendencies. Refusing merely to approve taxes and go home, as Charles would have wished, Parliament insisted that it could remain in session until its members agreed to disband. Then it set about abolishing extralegal taxes and courts, reining in the bishops’ powers, and arresting (and eventually trying and executing) the king’s ministers, the earl of Strafford and Archbishop Laud. The collapse of effective royal government meant that the machinery of press censorship, which had been a Crown responsibility, no longer restrained the printing of explicit commentary on contemporary affairs of state. As Parliament debated, therefore, presses poured forth a flood of treatises arguing vociferously on all sides of the questions about church and state, creating a lively public forum for political discussion where none had existed before. The suspension of censorship permitted the development of weekly newsbooks that reported, and editorialized on, current domestic events from varying political and religious perspectives. As the rift widened between Parliament and the king in 1641, Charles sought to arrest five members of Parliament for treason, and Londoners rose in arms against him. The king fled to York, while the queen escaped to the Continent. Negotiations for compromise broke down over the issues that would derail them at every future stage: control of the army and the church. On July 12, 1642, Parliament voted to raise an army, and on August 22 the king stood before a force of two thousand horse and foot at Nottingham, unfurled his royal standard, and summoned his liege men to his aid. Civil war had begun. Regions of the country, cities, towns, social classes, and even families found themselves painfully divided. The king set up court and an alternative parliament in Oxford, to which many in the House of Lords and some in the House of Commons transferred their allegiance. In the First Civil War (1642—46), Parliament and the Presbyterian clergy

that supported it had limited aims. They hoped to secure the rights of the House of Commons, to limit the king’s power over the army and the church—but not to depose him—and to settle Presbyterianism as the national established church. As Puritan armies moved through the country, fighting at Edgehill, Marston Moor, Naseby, and elsewhere, they also undertook a crusade to stamp out idolatry in English churches, smashing religious images and stained-glass windows and lopping off the heads of statues as an earlier generation had done at the time of the English Reformation. Their ravages are still visible in English churches and cathedrals. The Puritans were not, however, a homogeneous group, as the 1643 Toleration Controversy revealed. The Presbyterians wanted a national Pres-

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byterian church, with dissenters punished and silenced as before. But Congregationalists, Independents, Baptists, and other separatists opposed a national church and pressed for some measure of toleration, for themselves at least. The religious radical Roger Williams, just returned from New England, argued that Christ mandated the complete separation of church and state and the civic toleration of all religions, even Roman Catholics, Jews, and Muslims. Yet to most people, the civil war itself seemed to confirm that people of different faiths could not coexist peacefully. Thus even as sects continued to proliferate—Seekers, Finders, Antinomians, Fifth Mon-

archists, Quakers, Muggletonians, Ranters—even the most broad-minded of the age often attempted to draw a line between what was acceptable and what was not. Predictably, their lines failed to coincide. In Areopagitica (1644), John Milton argues vigorously against press censorship and for toleration of most Protestants—but for him, Catholics are beyond the pale. Robert Herrick and Sir Thomas Browne regarded Catholic rites, and even some pagan ones, indulgently but could not stomach Puritan zeal. In 1648, after a period of negotiation and a brief Second Civil War, the king’s army was definitively defeated. His supporters were captured or fled into exile, losing position and property. Yet Charles, imprisoned on the Isle of Wight, remained a threat. He was a natural rallying point for those disillusioned by parliamentary rule—many people disliked Parliament’s legal but heavy taxes even more than they had the king’s illegal but lighter ones. Charles repeatedly attempted to escape and was accused of trying to open the realm to a foreign invasion. Some powerful leaders of the victorious New Model Army took drastic action. They expelled royalists and Presbyterians, who still wanted to come to an accommodation with the king, from

the House of Commons and abolished the House of Lords. With consensus assured by the purgation of dissenting viewpoints, the army brought the king to trial for high treason in the Great Hall of Westminster. After the king’s execution, the Rump Parliament, the part of the House of Commons that had survived the purge, immediately established a new government “in the way of a republic, without king or House of Lords.” The new state was extremely fragile. Royalists and Presbyterians fiercely resented their exclusion from power and pronounced the execution of the king a sacrilege. The Rump Parliament and the army were at odds, with the army rank and file arguing that voting rights ought not be restricted to men of property. The Levelers, led by John Lilburne, called for suffrage for all adult males. An associated but more radical group, called the Diggers or True Levelers, pushed for economic reforms to match the political ones. Their spokesman, Gerrard Winstanley, wrote eloquent manifestos developing a Christian communist program. Meanwhile, Millenarians and Fifth Monarchists wanted political power vested in the regenerate “saints” in preparation for the thousand-year reign of Christ on earth foretold in the biblical Book of Revelation. Quakers defied both state and church authority by refusing to take oaths and by preaching incendiary sermons in open marketplaces. Most alarming of all, out of proportion to their scant numbers, were the Ranters, who believed that because God dwelt in them none of their acts

could be sinful. Notorious for sexual license and for public nudity, they got their name from their deliberate blaspheming and their penchant for rambling prophecy. In addition to internal disarray, the new state faced serious

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Cromwell. This depiction of Oliver Cromwell, published in 1658, shows him in armor, surrounded by emblems symbolizing his military prowess, civic authority, piety, and divine favor.

external threats. After Charles I’s execution, the Scots and the lrish—who

had not been consulted about the trial—proclaimed his eldest son, Prince Charles, the new king. The prince, exiled on the Continent, was attempting to enlist the support of a major European power for an invasion. The formidable Oliver Cromwell, now undisputed leader of the army, crushed external threats, suppressing rebellions in Ireland and Scotland. The Irish war was especially bloody, as Cromwell’s army massacred the Catholic natives in a frenzy of religious hatred. When trade rivalries erupted with the Dutch over control of shipping lanes in the North Sea and the English Channel, the new republic was again victorious. Yet the domestic situation remained unstable. Given popular disaffection and the unresolved disputes between Parliament and the army, the republic’s leaders dared not call new elections. In 1653 power effectively devolved upon Cromwell, who was sworn in as Lord Protector for life under England’s first written constitution. Many property owners considered Cromwell the only hope for stability, while others, including Milton, saw him as a champion of religious

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liberty. Although persecution of Quakers and Ranters continued, Cromwell sometimes intervened to mitigate the lot of the Quakers. He also began a program to readmit Jews to England, partly in the interests of trade but also to open the way for their conversion, supposedly a precursor of the Last Day as prophesied in the Book of Revelation. The problem of succession remained unresolved, however. When Oliver Cromwell died in 1658, his son, Richard, was appointed in his place, but he had inherited none of his father’s leadership qualities. In 1660 General George Monck succeeded in calling elections for a new “full and free” parliament, open to supporters of the monarchy as well as of the republic. The new Parliament immediately recalled the exiled prince, officially proclaiming him King Charles II on May 8, 1660. The period that followed, therefore, is called the Restoration: it saw the restoration of the monarchy and

with it the royal court, the established Church of England, and the professional theater. Over the next few years, the new regime executed some of the regicides that had participated in Charles I’s trial and execution and harshly repressed radical Protestants (the Baptist John Bunyan wrote Pilgrim’s Progress in prison). Yet Charles II, who came to the throne at Parliament’s invitation,

could not lay claim to absolute power as his father had done. After his accession, Parliament retained its legislative supremacy and complete power over taxation and exercised some control over the king’s choice of counselors. It assembled by its own authority, not by the king’s mandate. During the Restoration years, the journalistic commentary and political debates that had first flourished in the 1640s remained forceful and open, and the first modern political parties developed out of what had been the royalist and republican factions in the civil war. In London and in other cities, the merchant classes, filled with dissenters, retained their powerful economic leverage. Although the English revolution was apparently dismantled in 1660, its long-term effects profoundly changed English institutions and English society.

LITERATURE

AND

CULTURE,

1640-60

The English civil war was disastrous for the English theater. One of Parliament’s first acts after hostilities began in 1642 was to abolish public plays and sports, as “too commonly expressing lascivious mirth and levity.” Some drama continued to be written and published, but performances were rare and would-be theatrical entrepreneurs had to exploit loopholes in the prohibitions by describing their works as “operas” or presenting their productions in semiprivate circumstances.

As the king’s government collapsed, the patronage relationships centered upon the court likewise disintegrated. Many leading poets were staunch royalists, or Cavaliers, who suffered considerably in the war years. Robert Herrick lost his church employment; Richard Lovelace was imprisoned; Margaret Cavendish went into exile. With their usual networks of manuscript circulation disrupted, many royalist writers printed their verse. Volumes of poetry by Thomas Carew, John Denham, Richard Lovelace, and Robert Herrick appeared in the 1640s. Their poems, some dating from the

INTRODUCTION

1620s plenty to the carpe masks

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O'S

or 1630s, celebrate the courtly ideal “of the good life: good food, of wine, good verse, hospitality, and high-spirited loyalty, especially king.” One characteristic genre is the elegant love lyric, often with a diem theme. In Herrick’s case especially, apparent ease and frivolity a frankly political subtext. The Puritans excoriated May Day cele-

brations,

harvest-home

festivities, and other time-honored

holidays and

“sports” as unscriptural, idolatrous, or frankly pagan. For Herrick, they sustained a community that strove neither for ascetic perfection nor for equality among social classes, but that knew the value of pleasure in cementing social harmony and that incorporated everyone—rich and poor, unlettered and learned—as

the established church had traditionally

tried to do. During the 1640s and 1650s, as they faced defeat, the Cavaliers wrote

movingly of the relationship between

love and honor, of fidelity under

duress, of like-minded friends sustaining one another in a hostile environ-

ment. They presented themselves as amateurs, writing verse in the midst of a life devoted to more important matters: war, love, the king’s service, the

endurance of loss. Rejecting the radical Protestant emphasis on the “inner light,” which they considered merely a pretext for presumptuousness and violence, the Cavalier poets often cultivated a deliberately unidiosyncratic, even self-deprecating poetic persona. Thus the poems of Richard Lovelace memorably express sentiments that he represents not as the unique insights of an isolated genius, but as principles easily grasped by all honorable men. When in “The Vine” Herrick relates a wet dream, he laughs not only at himself but at those who mistake their own fantasies for divine inspiration. During the 1650s, royalists wrote lyric poems in places far removed from the hostile centers of parliamentary power. In Wales, Henry Vaughan wrote religious verse expressing his intense longing for past eras of innocence and

for the perfection of heaven or the millennium. Also in Wales, Katherine Philips wrote and circulated in manuscript poems that celebrate female friends in terms normally reserved for male friendships. The publication of her poems after the Restoration brought Philips some celebrity as “the Matchless Orinda.” Richard Crashaw, an exile in Paris and Rome and a convert to

Roman Catholicism, wrote lush religious poetry that attempted to reveal the spiritual by stimulating the senses. Margaret Cavendish, also in exile, with the queen in Paris, published two collections of lyrics when she returned to England in 1653; after the Restoration she published several dramas and a remarkable Utopian romance, The Blazing World. Several prose works by royalist sympathizers have become classics in their respective genres. Thomas Hobbes, the most important English philosopher of the period, another exile in Paris, developed his materialist philosophy and psychology there and, in Leviathan (1651), his unflinching defense of absolute sovereignty based on a theory of social contract. Some royalist writing seems to have little to do with the contemporary scene, but in fact carries a political charge. In Religio Medici (1642—43), Sir Thomas Browne presents himself as a genial, speculative doctor who loves ritual and ceremony not for complicated theological reasons, but because they move him emotionally. While he can sympathize with all Christians, even Roman Catholics, and while he recognizes in himself many idiosyncratic views, he willingly submits his judgment to the Church of England, in sharp contrast

916

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THE

SEAR IY

SSibViE NIE ENT hit Ge NUBCIRSY,

to Puritans bent on ridding the church of its errors. Izaak Walton’s treatise on fishing, The Complete Angler (1653), presents a dialogue between Walton’s persona, Piscator the angler, and Venator the hunter. Piscator, speaking like many Cavalier poets for the values of warmheartedness, charity, and inclusiveness, converts the busy, warlike Venator, a figure for the Puri-

tan, to the tranquil and contemplative pursuit of fishing. The revolutionary era gave new impetus to women’s writing. The circumstances of war placed women in novel, occasionally dangerous situations, giving them unusual events to describe and prompting self-discovery. The autobiographies of royalists Lady Anne Halkett and Margaret Cavendish, duchess of Newcastle, published after the Restoration, report their experiences and their sometimes daring activities during those trying days. Lucy Hutchinson’s memoir of her husband, Colonel John Hutchinson, first pub-

lished in 1806, narrates much of the history of the times from a republican point of view. Leveler women offered petitions and manifestos in support of their cause and of their imprisoned husbands. The widespread belief that the Holy Spirit was moving in unexpected ways encouraged a number of female prophets: Anna Trapnel, Mary Cary, and Lady Eleanor Davies. Their published prophecies often carried a strong political critique of Charles or of Cromwell. Quaker women came into their own as preachers and sometimes as writers of tracts, authorized by the Quaker belief in the spiritual equality of women and men and by the conviction that all persons should testify to whatever the inner light communicates to them. Many of their memoirs, such as Dorothy Waugh’s “Relation,” were originally published both to call attention to their sufferings and to inspire other Quakers to similar feats of moral fortitude. While most writers during this period were royalists, two of the best, Andrew

Marvell and John Milton, sided with the republic. Marvell wrote

most of the poems for which he is still remembered while at Nunappleton in the early 1650s, tutoring the daughter of the retired parliamentary general Thomas Fairfax; in 1657 he joined his friend Milton in the office of Cromwell’s Latin Secretariat. In Marvell’s love poems and pastorals, older convictions about ordered harmony give way to wittily unresolved or unresolvable oppositions, some playful, some painful. Marvell’s conflictual worldview seems unmistakably the product of the unsettled civil war decades. In his country-house poem “Upon Appleton House,” even agricultural practices associated with regular changes of the season, like the flooding of fallow fields, become emblems of unpredictability, reversal, and category confusion. In other poems Marvell eschews an authoritative poetic persona in favor of speakers that seem limited or even a bit unbalanced: a mower who argues for the values of pastoral with disconcerting belligerence, a nymph who seems to exemplify virginal innocence but also immature selfabsorption and possibly unconscious sexual perversity. Marvell’s finest political poem, “An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland,” celebrates Cromwell’s providential victories even while inviting sympathy for the executed king and warning about the potential dangers of Cromwell’s meteoric rise to power. A promising, prolific young poet in the 1630s, Milton committed himself to the English republic as soon as the conflict between the king and Parliament began to take shape. His loyalty to the revolution remained unwav-

INTRODUCTION

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Oe

ering despite his disillusion when it failed to realize his ideals: religious toleration for all Protestants and the free circulation of ideas without prior censorship. First as a self-appointed adviser to the state, then as its official defender, he addressed the great issues at stake in the 1640s and the 1650s. In a series of treatises he argued for church disestablishment and for the removal of bishops, for a republican government based on natural law and popular sovereignty, for the right of the people to dismiss from office and even execute their rulers, and, most controversial even to his usual allies,

in favor of divorce on the grounds of incompatibility. Milton was a Puritan, but both his theological heterodoxies and his poetic vision mark him as a distinctly unusual one. During his years as a political polemicist, Milton also wrote several sonnets, revising that small, love-centered genre to accommodate large private and public topics: a Catholic massacre of proto-Protestants in the foothills of Italy, the agonizing questions posed by his blindness, various threats to intellectual and religious liberty. In 1645 he published his collected English and Latin poems as a counterstatement to the royalist volumes of the 1640s. Yet his most ambitious poetry remained to be written. Milton probably wrote some part of Paradise Lost in the late 1650s and completed it after the Restoration, encompassing in it all he had thought, read, and experienced of tyranny, political controversy, evil, deception, love, and the need for companionship. This cosmic blank-verse epic assimilates and critiques the epic tradition and Milton’s entire intellectual and literary heritage, classical and Christian. Yet it centers not on martial heroes but on a domestic couple who must discover how to live a good life day by day, in Eden and later in the fallen world, amid intense emotional pressures and the seductions of evil. Seventeenth-century poetry, prose, and drama retains its hold on readers because so much of it is so very good, fusing intellectual power, emotional passion, and extraordinary linguistic artfulness. Poetry in this period ranges over an astonishing variety of topics and modes: highly erotic celebrations of sexual desire, passionate declarations of faith and doubt, lavishly embroidered paeans to friends and benefactors, tough-minded assessments of social and political institutions. English dramatists were at the height of their powers, situating characters of unprecedented complexity in plays sometimes remorselessly satiric, sometimes achingly moving. In these years English prose becomes a highly flexible instrument, suited to informal essays, scientific treatises, religious meditation, political polemic, biography and autobiography, and journalistic reportage. Literary forms evolve for the exquisitely modulated representation of the self: dramatic monologues, memoirs, spiritual autobiographies, sermons in which the preacher takes himself for an example. Finally, we have in Milton an epic poet who assumed the role of inspired prophet, envisioning a world created by God but shaped by human choice and imagination.

The Early Seventeenth

Century

snnecnnriresnnanncnsenyapsnseeeseneenmnarssensaeasanemnenseossene name

TEXTS

Uo

1603

ak

Si.

Lo

James I, Basilikon Doron reissued

1603

Death of Elizabeth I; accession of

James I. Plague 1604

William Shakespeare, Othello

1605 Shakespeare, King Lear. Ben Jonson, The Masque of Blackness. Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning

1605

Gunpowder Plot, failed effort by

Roman Catholic extremists to blow up Parliament

1606 Jonson, Volpone. Shakespeare, Macbeth

1607

Founding of Jamestown colony in

Virginia

1609

Shakespeare, Sonnets

1611

“King James” Bible (Authorized

1609 Galileo begins observing the heavens with a telescope

Version). Shakespeare, The Tempest. John Donne, The First Anniversary. Aemilia Lanyer, Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum

1612

Donne, The Second Anniversary

1613

Elizabeth Cary, The Tragedy of

cette IH Tenn seraeNnaeeti

1612

Death of Prince Henry

Mariam

1614

John Webster, The Duchess of Malfi

1616

Jonson, Works. James I, Works

i 1616

Death of Shakespeare

1618

Beginning of the Thirty Years War

|

1619 First African slaves in North America exchanged by Dutch frigate for food and supplies at Jamestown 1620

1620

Bacon, Novum Organum

1621 Mary Wroth, The Countess of Montgomery's Urania and Pamphilia to Amphilanthus. Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy 1623

Shakespeare, First Folio

1625

Bacon, Essays

Pilgrims land at Plymouth

1621 Donne appointed dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral

1625

Death of James I; accession of

Charles I; Charles I marries Henrietta Maria

1633

Donne, Poems. George Herbert,

The Temple 1637

John Milton, “Lycidas”

1640

Thomas Carew, Poems

1642 Thomas Browne, Religio Medici. Milton, The Reason of Church Government 1643 Milton, The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce 1644

Milton, Areopagitica

1629

Charles I dissolves Parliament

1633

Galileo forced by the Inquisition to

recant the Copernican theory

1640

|

Long Parliament called (1640-53).

Archbishop Laud impeached 1642 First Civil War begins (1642-46). Parliament closes the theaters 1643

Accession of Louis XIV of France

|

eae 918

ae ee

ee ee ee

|

srs

ssn narcasoeiiaabenstecnncesdet

CONTEXTS © ceo

1645 Poems

rns nda noo AEONSE

anno

sie

anemic nai

1645 Archbishop Laud executed. Royalists defeated at Naseby

Milton, Poems. Edmund Waller,

1648 Robert Herrick, Hesperides and Noble Numbers

1648 Second Civil War. “Pride’s Purge” of Parliament

1649 Milton, The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates and Eikonoklastes

Republic declared. Milton becomes Latin

1649

Trial and execution of Charles I.

Secretary (1649-59)

1650

Henry Vaughan, Silex Scintillans

(Part II, 1655) 1651

Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan.

Andrew Marvell, “Upon Appleton House” (unpublished)

i

| 1660

Milton, Ready and Easy Way to

1652

Anglo-Dutch War (1652-54)

1653

Cromwell made Lord Protector

1658 Death of Cromwell; his son Richard made Protector

1660

Restoration of Charles II to throne.

Royal Society founded

Establish a Free Commonwealth

1662 Charles II marries Catherine of Braganza

1666 World

Margaret Cavendish, The Blazing

1667

Milton, Paradise Lost (in ten books).

Katherine Philips, Collected Poems. John Dryden, Annus Mirabilis 1671

The Great Plague

1666

The Great Fire

|

Milton, Paradise Regained and

Samson Agonistes 1674

1665

Milton, Paradise Lost (in twelve

|

1674

Death of Milton

books) 1681

Marvell, Poems, published

posthumously

en

Were e oeeet steered) gare oe Seton ce eee es

919

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JOHN DONNE 1572-1631

overs’ eyeballs threaded on a string. A god who assaults the human heart with a battering ram. A teardrop that encompasses and drowns the world. John Donne’s poems abound with startling images. With his strange and playful intelligence, expressed in puns, paradoxes, and the elaborately sustained metaphors known as “conceits,” Donne has enthralled and sometimes enraged readers from his day to our own. The tired clichés of love poetry—cheeks like roses, hearts pierced by the arrows of love—emerge reinvigorated and radically transformed, demanding from the reader an unprecedented level of mental alertness and engagement. Donne prided himself on his wit and displayed it not only in his conceits but in his grasp of learned discourses ranging from theology to alchemy, from cosmology to law. Yet for all their ostentatious intellectuality Donne’s poems never give the impression of being academic exercises. Rather, they are intense dramatic monologues in which the speaker’s ideas and feelings evolve from one line to the next. Donne’s prosody is equally dramatic. His jagged rhythms capture the effect of speech (and elicited from his classically minded contemporary Ben Jonson the gruff observation that “Donne, for not keeping of accent deserved hanging”). Donne began life as an outsider, and in some respects remained one. He was born in London in 1572 into a devout Roman Catholic household. The family was prosperous, but, as the poet later remarked, none had suffered more heavily for its loyalty to the Catholic Church: “I have been ever kept awake in a meditation of martyrdom.” Donne was distantly related to the great Catholic humanist and martyr Sir Thomas More. Two of Donne's uncles, Jesuit priests, were forced to flee the realm; Donne’s brother Henry, arrested for harboring a priest, died in prison of the plague. As a Catholic in Protestant England, growing up in decades when antiRoman feeling reached new heights, Donne could not expect any kind of public career, nor could he receive a university degree (he left Oxford without one and studied law for a time at the Inns of Court), What he could reasonably expect instead was prejudice, official harassment, and crippling financial penalties. He chose not to live under such conditions. At some point in the 1590s, having returned to London after travels abroad, and having devoted some years to studying theological issues, Donne converted to the English church. The poems that belong with certainty to this period of his life—the five satires and most of the elegies—reveal a man both fascinated by and keenly critical of English society. Four of the satires treat commonplace Elizabethan topics—foppish and obsequious courtiers, bad poets, corrupt lawyers and a corrupt court—but are unique both in their visceral revulsion and in their intellectual excitement. Donne uses striking images of pestilence, vomit, excrement, and pox to create a unique satiric world, busy, vibrant, and corrupt, in which his dramatic speakers have only to step outside the door to be inundated by all the fools and knaves in Christendom. By contrast, the third satire treats the quest for true religion—the question that preoccupied him above all others in these years—in terms that are serious, passionately witty, and deeply felt. Donne argues that honest doubting search is better than the facile acceptance of any religious tradition, epitomizing that point brilliantly in the image of Truth on a craggy hill, very difficult to climb. Society’s values are of no help whatsoever to the individual seeker—none will escape the final judgment by 920

JOHN

DONNE

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O24

pleading that “A Harry, or a Martin taught [them] this.” In the love elegies Donne seems intent on making up for his social powerlessness through witty representations of mastery in the bedroom and of adventurous travel. In “Elegy 16” he imagines his speaker embarking on a journey “O’er the white Alps” and with mingled tenderness and condescension argues down a naive mistress’s proposal to accompany him. In “Elegy 19,” his fondling of a naked lover becomes in a famous conceit the equivalent of exploration in America. Donne’s interest in satire and elegy— classical Roman genres, which he helped introduce to English verse—is itself significant. He wrote in English, but he reached out to other traditions. If Donne’s conversion to the Church of England promised him security, social acceptance, and the possibility of a public career, that promise was soon to be cruelly withdrawn. In 1596—97 he participated in the earl of Essex’s military expeditions against Catholic Spain in Cadiz and the Azores (the experience prompted two remarkable descriptive poems of life at sea, “The Storm” and “The Calm”), and upon

his return he became secretary to Sir Thomas Egerton, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. This appointment should have been the beginning of a successful public career. But his secret marriage in 1601 to Egerton’s seventeen-year-old niece Ann More enraged Donne’s employer and the bride’s wealthy father; Donne was briefly imprisoned and dismissed from service. The poet was reduced to a retired country life beset by financial insecurity and a rapidly increasing family; Ann bore twelve children (not counting miscarriages) by the time she died at age thirty-three. At one point, Donne wrote despairingly that while the death of a child would mean one less mouth to feed, he could not afford the burial expenses. In this bleak period, he wrote but dared not publish Biathanatos, a defense of suicide. As his family grew, Donne made every effort to reinstate himself in the favor of the great. To win the approval of James I, he penned Pseudo-Martyr (1610), defending the king's insistence that Catholics take the Oath of Allegiance. This set an irrevocable public stamp on his renunciation of Catholicism, and Donne followed up with a witty satire on the Jesuits, Ignatius His Conclave (1611). In the same period he was producing a steady stream of occasional poems for friends and patrons such as the earl of Somerset (the king’s favorite), the Countess of Bedford, and Magdalen Herbert, and for small coteries of courtiers and ladies. Like most gentlemen of his era, Donne saw poetry as a polite accomplishment rather than as a trade or vocation, and in consequence he circulated his poems in manuscript but left most of them uncollected and unpublished. In 1611 and 1612, however, he pub-

lished the first and second Anniversaries on the death of the daughter of his patron Sir Robert Drury. For some years King James had urged an ecclesiastical career on Donne, denying him any other means of advancement. In 1615 Donne finally consented, overcoming his sense of unworthiness and the pull of other ambitions. He was ordained in the Church of England and entered upon a distinguished career as court preacher, reader in divinity at Lincoln’s

Inn, and dean of St. Paul’s. Donne’s

metaphorical

style, bold erudition, and dramatic wit established him as a great preacher in an age that appreciated learned sermons powerfully delivered. Some 160 of his sermons survive, preached to monarchs and courtiers, lawyers and London magistrates, city merchants and trading companies. As a distinguished clergyman in the Church of England, Donne had traveled an immense distance from the religion of his childhood and the adventurous life of his twenties. Yet in his sermons and late poems we find the same brilliant, idiosyncratic mind at work, refashioning his profane conceits to serve a new and higher purpose. In “Expostulation 19” he praises God as the greatest of literary stylists: “a figurative, a metaphorical God,” imagining God as a conceit-maker like himself. In poems,

meditations, and sermons,

Donne came

increasingly to be engaged in anxious contemplation of his own mortality. In “Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness,” Donne imagines himself spread out on

O22

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JOHN

DONNE

his deathbed like a map showing the route to the next world. Only a few days before his death he preached “Death’s Duel,” a terrifying analysis of all life as a decline toward death and dissolution, which contemporaries termed his own funeral sermon. In his final illness, according to his contemporary biographer Izaak Walton, Donne had a portrait made of himself in his shroud and meditated on it daily. Meditations upon skulls as emblems of mortality were common in the period, but nothing is more characteristic of Donne than to find a way to meditate on his own skull. Given the shape of Donne’s career, it is no surprise that his poems and prose works display an astonishing variety of attitudes, viewpoints, and feelings on the great subjects of love and religion. Yet this variety cannot be fully explained in biographical terms. The poet’s own attempt to distinguish between Jack Donne, the young rake, and Dr. Donne, the grave and religious dean of St. Paul’s, is (perhaps intentionally) misleading. We do not know the time and circumstances for most of Donne’s verses, but it is clear that many of his finest religious poems predate his ordination, and it is possible that he continued to add to the love poems known as his “songs and sonnets” after he entered the church. Theological language abounds in his love poetry, and daringly erotic images in his religious verse. Donne’s “songs and sonnets” have been the cornerstone of his reputation almost since their publication in 1633. The title Songs and Sonnets associates them with the popular miscellanies of love poems and sonnet sequences in the Petrarchan tradition, but they directly challenge the popular Petrarchan sonnet sequences of the 1590s. The collection contains only one formal sonnet, the “songs” are not notably lyrical, and Donne draws upon and transforms a whole range of literary traditions concerned with love. Like Petrarch, Donne can present himself as the despairing lover of an unattainable lady (“The Funeral”). Like Ovid he can be lighthearted,

witty, cynical, and frankly lustful (“The Flea,” “The Indifferent”). Like the Neoplatonists, he espouses a theory of transcendent love, but he breaks from them with his insistence in many poems on the union of physical and spiritual love. What binds these poems together and grants them enduring power is their compelling immediacy. The speaker is always in the throes of intense emotion, and that emotion is not static but constantly shifting with the turns of the poet's thought. Donne seems supremely present in these poems, standing behind their various speakers. Where Petrarchan poets exhaustively catalogue their beloved’s physical features (though in highly conventional terms), Donne’s speakers tell us little or nothing about the loved woman, or about the male friends imagined as the audience for many poems. Donne’s repeated insistence that the private world of lovers is superior to the wider public world, or that it somehow

contains all of that world, is understandable

in

light of the many disappointments of his career. Yet this was also a poet who threw himself headlong into life, love, and sexuality, and later into the very visible role of court and city preacher. Donne was long grouped with Herbert, Vaughan, Crashaw, Marvell, Traherne, and Cowley under the heading of “Metaphysical poets.” The expression was first employed by critics like Samuel Johnson and William Hazlitt, who found the intricate conceits and self-conscious learning of these poets incompatible with poetic beauty and sincerity. Early in the twentieth century, T. S. Eliot sought to restore their reputation, attributing to them a unity of thought and feeling that had since their time been lost. There was, however, no formal “school” of Metaphysical poetry, and the characteristics ascribed to it by later critics pertain chiefly to Donne. Like Ben Jonson, John Donne immensely influenced the succeeding generation, but he remains a singularity.

The Sixteenth Century

(1485-1603)

St. George and the Dragon (London version), Paolo Uccello, ca. 1455-60 A depiction by the Florentine artist Uccello of the legend that was to inspire Edmund leash by the elegant lady—as if the held ona A Spenser in Book | of The Faerie Queene.Already

struggle’s outcome were not in doubt—the dragon submits to the knight's nee (thrust through

the nose in a gesture that better recalls the domestication of cattle than the thwarting of an enemy). The desolate cave is strangely conjoined with the formal garden and the lady's elegant court dress: the story is imagined as located at once in the w ilderness and at the very center of civilization.

Thomas More, Hans

Holbein,

1527

Painted on the eve of More’s great conflict with Henry VIII over the validity of the king’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon, Holbein’s portrait emphasizes both the chancellor’s importance and his strength of character. More wears the heavy gold chain and rich dress of high office, which he had satirized a decade earlier in Utopia. In all probability, if early biographies of More can be believed, he also wears a hair shirt under the velvet and fur, a hidden, painful reminder of the vulnerable flesh that he secretly mortified.

Edward VI and the Pope: An Allegory ofthe

Reformation, English school, ca. 1568—71

The dying Henry VIII hands over the mandate for church reform to his young son and heir,

Prince Edward. This is a polemical attempt to depict the religious revolution that had a deep impact on English society and literature. The open book, proclaiming the Protestant emphasis on the Word of God in vernacular translation, crushes the pope and the taglines of Catholic corruption that surround him. The Council of Regency (appointed to guide the king, who was only nine when

he ascended

the throne) is in attendance; to the left, two

monks flee the pope’s downfall. In the upper right, a painting (or view from the window?) heralds the collapse of the Old Church and the breaking of its “idols.” Several places in the painting

are

intended

for

inscriptions,

but

for

unknow

Nn reasons

these

were

never

completed.

The Wife and Daughter of a Chief, John White, 1585 Accompanying Thomas Hariot’s Brief and True Report of the New-found Land of Virginia, John White’s watercolors chronicle Algonkian life as seen by the English voyagers. Here, a girl “of the age of 8 or 10 yeares” carries a European doll, dressed in full Elizabethan costume, that she has clearly been given as a gift by the strange visitors. The presentation of small gifts was a regular English practice, frequently alternating with murderous violence. White’s drawing manages to convey both the exoticism and the dignity that Hariot and others perceived in the American natives.

Portrait of a Melancholy Young Man, Isaac Oliver, ca. 1590-95 Equally fashionable in attitude and dress, Oliver’s young man displays the fascination of the English elite with the “melancholy humour.” In addition to the sad expression, the black clothes and crossed arms are conventional markers of melancholy. Men in love, like Sidney’s Astrophil (p. 586) and Duke Orsino in Twelfth Night (p. 741), found it particularly

glamorous to parade their pensive dispositions. The romance of this “disease” figures in the couple just walking into the labyrinth-garden on the right.

J600

ABovicvaHID,

= Had been a type for that, as that might be A type of her in this, that contrary Both elements and passions lived at peace

evi

320

In her, who caused all civil wars to cease.

She, after whom, what form soe’er we see Is discord, and rude incongruity. She, she is dead, she’s dead, when thou know’st this

325

Thou know’st how vile a monster this world is,

And learn’st thus much by our Anatomy, That here is nothing to enamor thee; And that, not only faults in inward parts, Corruptions in our brains, or in our hearts, 330 Poisoning the fountains whence our actions spring Endanger us, but that if everything Be not done fitly and in proportion To satisfy wise and good lookers on (Since most men be such as most think they be) 335 They're loathsome too, by this deformity, For good, and well,° must in our actions meet: seemly, decorous Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet. But beauty’s other second element, Color, and luster now, is as near spent

340

And had the world his just proportion, Were it a ring still, yet the stone is gone. As a compassionate turquoise which doth tell By looking pale, the wearer is not well,° As gold falls sick being stung with mercury’ All the world’s parts of such complexion be. When nature was most busy, the first week,® Swaddling the newborn earth, God seemed to like That she should sport herself sometimes, and play To mingle, and vary colors every day.

345

350

And then, as though she could not make enow®

enough

Himself his various°® rainbow did allow. Sight is the noblest sense of any one, Yet sight hath only color to feed on, And color is decayed: summer's robe grows Dusky, and like an oft-dyed garment shows. Our blushing red, which used in cheeks to spread, Is inward sunk, and only our souls are red.”

multicolored

355

Perchance the world might have recovered, 4. Atheory ascribed to Aristotle held that objects emit rays that imprint the forms of those objects upon our eyes and mind. 5. Both Ambrose and Augustine held that Noah’s Ark was built to the proportions of the human body, so “she” can be said to be a type of the Ark, and the Ark (in regard to the harmony of the ani-

mals it contained) a type of her. 6. Turquoise was believed to gain or lose luster

reflecting the wearer’s state of health.

7. An amalgam of gold and mercury is lighter in color, and of much less value, than pure gold. 8. The six days of creation described in Genesis 1, when

the earth was clothed

(“swaddled,” like a

newborn) with all forms of life. 9. Blushing red indicates innocence; souls are red with sin and guilt.

958

|

JOHN

DONNE

If she, whom we lament had not been dead. But she, in whom all white, and red, and blue

360 1

(Beauty’s ingredients) voluntary grew, As in an unvexed Paradise;? from whom Did all things verdure,° and their luster come,

unfallen Eden grow green

Whose composition was miraculous, Being all color, all diaphanous (For air and fire but thick gross bodies were, 2 And liveliest stones but drowsy and pale to her,)

365

She, she is dead, she’s dead: when thou know’st this, Thou know’st how wan a ghost this our world is,

370

And learn’st thus much by our anatomy, That it should more affright, than pleasure thee. And that, since all fair color then did sink,

Weakness in

the want of correspondence of heaven and earth.

"Tis now but wicked vanity to think To color vicious deeds with good pretence, Or with bought colors to elude® men’s sense, Nor in ought more this world’s decay appears,

375 deceive

Than that her influence the heav’n forbears, Or that the elements do not feel this. The father, or the mother, barren is. 3

The clouds conceive not rain, or do not pour In the due birth-time down their balmy* shower. Th’air doth not motherly sit on the earth, To hatch her seasons, and give all things birth, Spring-times were common cradles, but are tombs, And false conceptions? fill the general womb.

385 abortions,

Th’air shows such meteors,’ as none can see,

monsters

Not only what they mean, but what they be. Earth such new worms, as would have troubled much

Th’Egyptian mages to have made more such.° What artist® now dares boast that he can bring Heaven hither, or constellate’ anything So as the influence of those stars may be

390 alchemist or

astrologer

Imprisoned in an herb, or charm, or tree,

And do by touch all which those stars could do? The art is lost, and correspondence® too. For heaven gives little, and the earth takes less, And man least knows their trade, and purposes. If this commerce twixt heaven and earth were not Embarred,’ and all this traffic quite forgot, stopped,

395

blocked

She, for whose loss we have lamented thus,

Would work more fully and pow’rfully on us. Since herbs and roots by dying, lose not all, 1. White

symbolizes

innocence,

red, love, and

blue, truth. 2. Air and fire were thought to be the lightest and purest of the four elements. 3. Either the stars and planets (the father) withhold their influence or the earth’s elements (the

mother) are not receptive, making for barrenness. 4. Balm was thought to preserve and heal.

5. Especially comets, thought to portend disaster. 6. Egyptian magicians (“mages”) turned their rods into serpents (“worms”), Exodus 7.10—12.

7. Bring the stars together, or judge when their conjunction is favorable. 8. The close link between heaven and earth so that the powers of the various heavenly bodies are contained

(“imprisoned”)

in particular herbs or

stones, which can cure by “touch.”

AN

ANATOMY

OF

THE

WORLD

|

939

But they, yea ashes too, are medicinal,?

Death could not quench her virtue! so, but that

405

It would be (if not followed) wondered at:

And all the world would be one dying swan, To sing her funeral praise, and vanish then. But as some serpents’ poison hurteth not, Except it be from the live serpent shot,’

410

So doth her virtue need her here, to fit

That unto us; she working more than it. But she, in whom, to such maturity Virtue was grown, past growth, that it must die, She from whose influence all impressions came,

415

But, by receivers’ impotencies, lame,

Who, though she could not transubstantiate® change the substance of All states to gold, yet gilded every state, So that some princes have some temperance, Some counselors some purpose to advance 420 The common profit; and some people have Some stay,° no more than kings should give, to crave; restraint Some women have some taciturnity, Some nunneries, some grains of chastity. She, that thus much, and much more could do, But that our age was iron, and rusty too,* She, she is dead, she’s dead: when thou know’st this

425

Thou know’st how dry a cinder this world is. And learn’st thus much by our Anatomy, That ‘tis in vain to dew, or mollify® It with thy tears, or sweat, or blood: no thing

Conclusion.

Is worth our travail, grief, or perishing, But those rich joys, which did possess her heart, Of which she’s now partaker, and a part. But as in cutting up a man that’s dead, The body will not last out to have read On every part, and therefore men direct Their speech to parts that are of most effect;

soften

435

So the world’s carcass would not last, if I

Were punctual? in this Anatomy.

detailed, point by point

Nor smells it well to hearers, if one tell

Them their disease, who fain would think they’re well. Here therefore be the end: And, blessed maid,

Of whom is meant whatever hath been said, Or shall be spoken well by any tongue, 445 Whose name refines coarse lines, and makes prose song, Accept this tribute, and his first year’s rent, Who till his dark short taper’s® end be spent, candle 9. Healing power was thought to remain in certain dead herbs and roots, as well as in their ashes

after burning. 1. Power, goodness. 2. Swans were believed to sing just once, before their deaths. 3. The allusion conflates the poison with which ihe first serpent

(Satan)

infected

humankind,

with the curative power against snakebite pos-

sessed by the serpent of brass that Moses raised up to cure the Israelites (Numbers 21.6—9)— identified by Christian biblical commentators as a type of Christ. 4. The present is the last of the legendary four ages—gold, silver, bronze, and iron—through which history was said to pass, each marking a decline.

JOHN

960

DONNE

As oft as thy feast® sees this widowed earth, Will yearly celebrate thy second birth, That is, thy death. For though the soul of man Be got when man is made, ’tis born but then When man doth die. Our body’s as the womb, And as a midwife death directs it home. And you her creatures, whom she works upon And have your last, and best concoction® From her example, and her virtue, if you

saint's feastday 450

455 purification (in

alchemy)

In reverence to her, do think it due

That no one should her praises thus rehearse, As matter fit for chronicle, not verse,’ Vouchsafe to call to mind, that God did make

460

A last, and lasting’st piece, a song.° He spake To Moses, to deliver unto all

That song: because He knew they would let fall 465

The Law, the Prophets, and the History,’

But keep the song still in their memory. Such an opinion (in due measure) made

Me this great office boldly to invade. Nor could incomprehensibleness deter Me from thus trying to imprison her.

470

Which when I saw that a strict grave could do,

I saw not why verse might not do so too. Verse hath a middle nature: heaven keeps souls, The grave keeps bodies, verse the fame enrolls. 1611

From Holy Sonnets! I

Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste; I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday.

s

[dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.° Only thou art above, and when towards thee

5. “Chronicle” history is the appropriate genre for recording the great events of rulers and kingdoms; verse can treat themes of love and other private matters. Cf. Donne’s The “Canonization,”

page 928, lines 31-34. 6. The

Mosaic

song in Deuteronomy

32.1—43

celebrating God’s mercy to the Israelites, and threat of vengeance against them if they abandon him. 7. The books of the Hebrew Bible were often divided into these three categories.

incline, weigh down

1. Donne wrote a variety of religious poems (called “Divine Poems”), including a group of nineteen “holy sonnets” that reflect his interest in Jesuit and Protestant meditative procedures. He probably began writing them about 1609, a decade or so after leaving the Catholic Church. Our selections follow the traditional numbering established in Sir Herbert Grierson’s influential edition, since for most of these sonnets we cannot tell when they were written or in what order they were intended to appear.

HOLY

By thy leave I can look, I rise again; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me That not one hour myself I can sustain. Thy grace may wing® me to prevent? his art, And thou like adamant® draw mine iron heart.

SONNETS

|

961

give wings to /forestall magnetic lodestone

1635

a

vi

10

I am a little world? made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite;° But black sin hath betrayed to endless night My world’s both parts, and O, both parts must die. You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,’ Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might Drown my world with my weeping earnestly, Or wash it if it must be drowned no more.*

spirit, soul

But O, it must be burnt! Alas, the fire

Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore, And made it fouler; let their flames retire, And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal.’ 1635

At the round earth’s imagined corners,° blow Your trumpets, angels; and arise, arise

From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go: VI

All whom the flood did, and fire’ shall, o’erthrow, All whom war, dearth,’ age, agues,° tyrannies, Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes Shall behold God, and never taste death’s woe.*®

famine /fevers

But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space;

10

For, if above all these, my sins abound, "Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace When we are there. Here on this lowly ground, Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good As if thou hadst sealed my pardon with thy blood. 1633

2. The traditional idea of the human microcosm

being as

(a “little world”), containing in min-

iature all the features of the macrocosm, or great world. 3. Astronomers, especially Galileo, and explorers.

kinds of flame—those

of the Last Judgment,

those of lust and envy, and those of zeal, which

alone save.

6. Cf. Revelation 7.1: “I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth.”

(Genesis 9.11) never to

7. Noah’s flood, and the universal conflagration

5. See Psalm 69.9: “For the zeal of thine house hath eaten me up.” These lines refer to three

at the end of the world (Revelation 6.11). 8. Those who will be alive at the Second Coming (cf. Luke 9.27).

4. God promised

Noah

flood the earth again.

JOHN

962

DONNE

9

If poisonous minerals, and if that tree’ Whose fruit threw death on else-immortal us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious! Cannot be damned, alas! why should I be? Why should intent or reason, born in me,

10

Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous? And, mercy being easy and glorious To God, in his stern wrath why threatens he? But who am I that dare dispute with thee O God? Oh, of thine only worthy blood And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean? flood,

And drown in it my sin’s black memory. That thou remember them some claim as debt;

I think it mercy if thou wilt forget. 1633 10

Death, be not proud, though some have calléd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.*

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy® or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell’st® thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally

opium

puff with pride

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.°

1633 I]

Spit in my face ye Jews, and pierce my side, Buffet, and scoff,° scourge, and crucify me,

scoff at

For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he, wi)

Who could do no iniquity, hath died: But by my death cannot be satisfied®

9. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, whose

atoned for

3. Cf. Jeremiah 31.34: “I will forgive their iniq-

fruit was forbidden to Adam and Eve in Eden. 1. Traits commonly associated with these crea-

4. l.e., to find rest for their bones and freedom

tures.

(“delivery”) for their souls.

2. In classical mythology, the waters of the river Lethe in the underworld caused total forgetfulness.

uity, and I will remember their sins no more.”

5. Cf. 1 Corinthians 15.26: “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”

HOLY

10

SONNETS

My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety: They killed once an inglorious® man, but I Crucify him daily,° being now glorified. Oh let me then, his strange love still admire:° Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.”

|

963

obscure wonder at

And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire

But to supplant, and with gainful intent:§ God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh, that so

He might be weak enough to suffer woe. 1633

What if this present were the world’s last night? Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,

wi

10

The picture of Christ crucified, and tell Whether that countenance can thee affright. Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light, Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell; And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell Which prayed forgiveness for his foes’ fierce spite? No, no; but as in my idolatry I said to all my profane® mistresses, Beauty of pity, foulness only is

secular

A sign of rigor:’ so I say to thee,

To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned, This beauteous form assures a piteous mind. 1633

Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend 5

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. I, like an usurped town, to another due, Labor to admit you, but O, to no end;

Reason, your viceroy! in me, me should defend, But is captived, and proves weak or untrue. Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,°

10

gladly

But am betrothed? unto your enemy. Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;

6. Cf. Hebrews 6.6: “they [sinners] crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh.”

7. Kings may pardon crimes, but the King of Kings, Christ, bore the punishment

due to our

sins. 8. Jacob disguised himself in goatskins to gain from his blind father the blessing belonging to the firstborn son, his brother Esau (Genesis 27.1—36).

9. In Neoplatonic theory, beautiful features are the sign of a compassionate mind, while ugliness signifies the contrary. 1. The governor in your stead.

2. Humanity’s relationship with God has been described in terms of marriage and adultery

from the time of the Hebrew prophets.

964

|

JOHN

DONNE

Take me to you, imprison me, for I, Except® you enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish* me.

unless

1633

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt* To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,

s

And her soul early into heaven ravishéd, Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set. Here the admiring her my mind did whet To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;°

10

source

But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed, immoderate thirst A holy thirsty dropsy° melts me yet. But why should I beg more love, whenas thou Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine: And dost not only fear lest I allow My love to saints and angels, things divine, But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt® fear Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out. 1899

s

Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse? so bright and clear. What! is it she which on the other shore Goes richly painted? or which, robbed and tore, Laments and mourns in Germany and here?® Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year? Is she self-truth, and errs? now new, now outwore? Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?’

Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights io

First travel we to seek, dnd then make love? Betray, kind husband, thy spouse to our sights,

And let mine amorous soul court thy mild dove, Who is most true and pleasing to thee then When she is embraced and open to most men.°® 1899 3. Rape, also overwhelm with wonder. “Enthrall”: enslave, also enchant.

4. Donne’s wife died in 1617 at the age of thirtythree, having just given birth to her twelfth child. This very personal sonnet and the following two survive in a single manuscript discovered only in 1892.

5. The church is commonly called the bride of Christ. Cf. Revelation 19.7—8: “The marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. / And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white.”

6. Ie.,

the

painted

woman

(the

Church

of

Rome) or the ravished virgin (the Lutheran and Calvinist churches in Germany and England). 7. The church on one hill is probably Solomon’s temple on Mount Moriah; that on seven hills is the Church of Rome; that on no hill is the Presbyterian church of Geneva. 8. The final lines wittily rework, with startling sexual associations, Song of Solomon 5.2: “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled.” That biblical book was often interpreted as the song of love between Christ and the church.

GOOD

FRIDAY,

1613.

RIDING

WESTWARD

|

965

Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:

Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot A constant habit; that when I would not

s

I change in vows, and in devotion. As humorous? is my contrition As my profane love, and as soon forgot: As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,°

subject to whim

As praying, as mute, as infinite, as none.

10

I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today In prayers and flattering speeches I court God: Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod. So my devout fits come and go away Like a fantastic ague:' save° that here Those are my best days, when I shake with fear.

except

1899

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward Let man’s soul be a sphere, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is,!

And as the other spheres, by being grown Subject to foreign motions, lose their own,

s

And being by others hurried every day, Scarce in a year their natural form? obey; Pleasure or business, so, our souls admit

For® their first mover, and are whirled by it.

instead of

Hence is ’t, that I am carried towards the West

10

This day, when my soul’s form bends towards the East. There I should see a Sun? by rising, set,

And by that setting endless day beget: But that Christ on this cross did rise and fall,

is

20

Sin had eternally benighted all. Yet dare I almost be glad I do not see That spectacle, of too much weight for me. Who sees God’s face, that is self-life, must die;* What a death were it then to see God die? It made his own lieutenant,° Nature, shrink; ~It made his footstool crack, and the sun wink.’

§. Arising from the unbalanced humors, inexplicably changeable. 1. A fever, attended with paroxysms of hot and cold and trembling fits. “Fantastic”: capricious, extravagant.

1. As angelic intelligences guide the celestial spheres, so devotion is or should be the guiding

deputy

line 4) deflected the spheres from their correct orbits. 3. The “sun” / “Son” pun was an ancient one. Christ the Son of God “set” when he rose on the Cross, and that setting (death) gave rise to the Christian era and the promise of immortality. 4. God told Moses, “Thou canst not see my face,

principle of the soul. 2. Their true moving principle or intelligence. The orbit of the celestial spheres was thought to

for there shall no man see me, and live” (Exodus 33.20).

be governed by an unmoving outermost sphere,

panied the Crucifixion (Matthew 27.45, 51). Gt; Isaiah 66.1: “Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is

the primum

mobile, or first mover (line 8), but

sometimes outside influences (“foreign motions,”

5. An earthquake and eclipse supposedly accommy throne, and the earth is my footstool.”

966

|

2s

JOHN

DONNE

Could I behold those hands which span the poles, And tune’ all spheres at once, pierced with those holes? Could I behold that endless height which is Zenith to us, and t’our antipodes,’ Humbled below us? Or that blood which is The seat® of all our souls, if not of his, dwelling place Make dirt of dust, or that flesh which was worn

30

By God for his apparel, ragg’d and torn? If on these things I durst not look, durst I Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye, Who was God’s partner here, and furnished thus Half of that sacrifice which ransomed us? Though these things, as I ride, be from° mine eye,

away from

They are present yet unto my memory,

35

40

For that looks towards them; and thou look’st towards me, O Savior, as thou hang’st upon the tree. I turn my back to thee but to receive Corrections,® till thy mercies bid thee leave.° O think me worth thine anger; punish me; Burn off my rusts and my deformity; Restore thine image so much, by thy grace, That thou may’st know me, and Ill turn my face.

cease

1633

A Hymn to Christ, at the Author’s Last Going into Germany! In what torn ship soever I embark, That ship shall be my emblem of thy ark;°

Noah’s ark

What sea soever swallow me, that flood

Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood; Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes, Which, though they turn away sometimes, they never will despise. I sacrifice this island® unto thee,

England

And all whom I loved there, and who loved me;

10

is

When I have put our seas twixt them and me, Put thou thy sea” betwixt my sins and thee. As the tree’s sap doth seek the root below In winter, in my winter now I go Where none but thee, th’ eternal root of true love, I may know.

Nor thou nor thy religion dost control?®

censure, restrain

The amorousness of an harmonious soul, 6. Some manuscripts read “turn.” 7. God is at once the highest point for us and for our “antipodes,” those who live on the opposite side of the earth. 8. Suggests a flogging. 1. Donne went to Germany in 1619 as chaplain

to the earl of Doncaster. lomatic one, to the king King James’s son-in-law that time were mainstays on the Continent. 2. Sea of Christ’s blood.

The mission was a dipand queen of Bohemia, and daughter, who at of the Protestant cause

HYMN

20

TO

GOD

MY

GOD,

IN

MY

SICKNESS

|

967

But thou wouldst have that love thyself; as thou Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now. Thou lov’st not, till from loving more? thou free My soul; whoever gives, takes liberty; Oh, if thou car’st not whom I love, alas, thou lov’st not me.

Seal then this bill of my divorce to all On whom those fainter beams of love did fall; Marry those loves which in youth scattered be 2,

On fame, wit, hopes (false mistresses) to thee.

Churches are best for prayer that have least light: To see God only, I go out of sight, And to 'scape stormy days, I choose an everlasting night. 1633

Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness! Since I am coming to that holy room Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,

I shall be made thy music; as I come wn

I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think now before.’

10

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown That this is my southwest discovery? Per fretum febris,* by these straits to die,

15

I joy, that in these straits, I see my West; For, though their currents yield return to none, What shall my West hurt me? As West and East In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,’ So death doth touch the resurrection.

Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are The Eastern riches?° Is Jerusalem?

Cathay, China

Anyan,° and Magellan, and Gibraltar, All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,

20

Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.’

3. From loving any other thing. 1. Though Izaak Walton, Donne’s friend and biographer, assigns this poem to the last days of his life, it was probably written during another illness, in December 1623. 2. This and the previous poem are less hymns (songs of praise) than meditations preparing (tuning the instrument) for such hymns. 3. South is the region of heat, west the region of sunset and death. 4. Through the straits of fever, with a pun on straits as sufferings, rigors, and a geographical

reference to the Strait of Magellan. 5. If a flat map is pasted on a round globe, west and east meet. 6. Anian, a strait on the west coast of America,

shown on early maps as separating America from Asia.

7. The three sons of Noah by whom the world was repopulated after the Flood (Genesis 10). The descendants of Japhet were thought to inhabit Europe; those of Cham (Ham), Africa; and those

of Shem, Asia.

968

|

JOHN

DONNE

25

We think that Paradise and Calvary, Christ’s cross and Adam’s tree, stood in one place; Look, Lord and find both Adams® met in me; As the first Adam’s sweat surrounds my face, May the last Adam’s blood my soul embrace.

30

So, in his purple wrapped,’ receive me, Lord; crown of thorns By these his thorns® give me his other crown; And, as to others’ souls I preached thy word, Be this my text, my sermon to mine own: Therefore that he may raise the Lord throws down. 1635

A Hymn to God the Father! Wilt thou Which Wilt thou And do 5

10

forgive that sin where I begun, is my sin, though it were done before?? forgive that sin through which I run, run still, though still I do deplore?

When thou hast done,* thou hast not done, For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin by which I have won Others to sin? and made my sin their door? Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun A year or two, but wallowed in a score? When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;

is

Swear by thy self, that at my death thy Son Shall shine as he shines now and heretofore; And, having done that, thou hast done, I feart no more.

1633

8. Adam and Christ. Legend had it that Christ's cross was erected on the spot, or at least in the region, where the tree forbidden to Adam in Eden had stood. 9. In his blood, also in his kingly robes. 1. This hymn was used as a congregational hymn. Walton tells us that Donne wrote it during his illness of 1623, had it set to music, and

was delighted to hear it performed (as it frequently was) by the choir of St. Paul’s Cathedral. 2. l.e., he inherits the original sin of Adam and Eve.

3. In the refrains, Donne puns on his own name and may pun on his wife’s maiden name, Ann More. 4. Some manuscripts read “have.”

969

From Devotions upon Emergent Occasions! Meditation 4 Medicusque vocatur. The physician is sent for.?

It is too little to call man a little world; except God, man is a diminutive to

nothing.’ Man consists of more pieces, more parts, than the world; than the world doth, nay, than the world is. And if those pieces were extended and

stretched out in man as they are in the world, man would be the giant and the world the dwarf; the world but the map, and the man the world. If all

the veins in our bodies were extended to rivers, and all the sinews to veins of mines, and all the muscles that lie upon one another to hills, and all the

bones to quarries of stones, and all the other pieces to the proportion of those which correspond to them in the world, the air would be too little for this orb of man to move in, the firmament would be but enough for this star. For as the whole world hath nothing to which something in man doth not answer,’ so hath man many pieces of which the whole world hath no representation. Enlarge this meditation upon this great world, man, so far as to consider the immensity of the creatures this world produces. Our creatures are our thoughts, creatures that are born giants, that reach from east to west, from earth to heaven, that do not only bestride all the sea and land, but span the sun and firmament at once: my thoughts reach all, comprehend all. Inexplicable mystery! I their creator am in a close prison, in a sick bed, anywhere, and any one of my creatures, my thoughts, is with the sun, and beyond the sun, overtakes the sun, and overgoes the sun in one pace, one step, everywhere. And then as the other world produces serpents and vipers, malignant and venomous creatures, and worms and caterpillars, that endeavor to devour

that world which produces them, and monsters compiled and complicated? of divers parents and kinds, so this world, our selves, produces all these in us, in producing diseases and sicknesses of all those sorts; venomous and infectious diseases, feeding and consuming diseases, and manifold and entangled diseases made up of many several ones. And can the other world name so many venomous, so many consuming, so many monstrous creatures, as we can diseases of all these kinds? O miserable abundance, O beggarly riches! How much do we lack of having remedies for every disease, when as yet we have not names for them?

1. Donne’s Devotions were composed in the aftermath of his serious illness in the winter of 1623, though Donne characteristically writes as if the events of the illness were happening as he describes them. The Devotions recount in twentythree sections the stages (“emergent occasions”) of the illness and recovery: the term associates the exercise with a popular kind of Protestant meditation on the occasions that daily life presents to us. Each section contains a “meditation upon our human condition,” an “expostulation and debatement with God,” and a prayer to God. The book

was published almost immediately, offering its meditation on an intensely personal experience as exemplary for others. 2. Donne's Latin epigraphs are followed by his English translations, often quite free. 3. This meditation is based on the notion that each human being is a microcosm, a little world, analogous in every respect to the macrocosm, or great world. But in playing with this notion, Donne paradoxically reverses it. 4. Correspond. 5. Mixed.

yo)

|

JOHN

DONNE

But we have a Hercules against these giants, these monsters: that is the physician. He musters up all the forces of the other world to succor this, all nature to relieve man. We have the physician but we are not the physician. Here we shrink in our proportion, sink in our dignity in respect of very mean creatures who are physicians to themselves. The hart that is pursued and wounded, they say, knows an herb which, being eaten, throws off the

arrow: a strange kind of vomit.® The dog that pursues it, though he be subject to sickness, even proverbially knows his grass that recovers him. And it may be true that the drugger is as near to man as to other creatures; it may be that obvious and present simples,’ easy to be had, would cure him; but the apothecary is not so near him, nor the physician so near him, as they two are to other creatures.’ Man hath not that innate instinct to apply these natural medicines to his present danger, as those inferior creatures have. He is not his own apothecary, his own physician, as they are. Call back therefore thy meditation again, and bring it down.? What’s become of man’s great extent and proportion, when himself shrinks himself and consumes himself to a handful of dust? What’s become of his soaring thoughts, his compassing thoughts, when himself brings himself to the ignorance, to the thoughtlessness, of the grave? His diseases are his own, but the physician is not; he hath them at home, but he must send for the physician. Meditation 17 Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris.

Now this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.

Perchance he for whom this bell! tolls may be so ill as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me and see my state may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is catholic, universal, so are all her

actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that head which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body? whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns

me: all mankind

is of one

author and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated? into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention

6. Deer supposedly expelled arrows wounding them by eating the herb dittany. 7. Medicinal plants. 8. One who administers drugs might do this for man as well as for other creatures, but one who

sells drugs (“the apothecary”) and the physician

do not know how to prescribe for man as well as for other creatures. 9. J.e., apply it to the present situation. 1. The “passing bell” for the dying. 2. The church.

3. Punning on the literal sense, “carried across.”

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as far as a suit* (in which piety and dignity, religion and estimation,> were mingled) which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? But who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? But who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world? No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.° If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were. Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for

whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.’ Neither can we call this a begging of misery or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbors. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did; for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current moneys, his treasure will not defray® him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels as gold in a mine and be of no use to him; but this bell that tells me of his affliction digs out and applies that gold to me, if by this consideration of another’s danger I take mine own into contemplation and so secure myself by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security. From Expostulation 19

[THE LANGUAGE OF GoD]

My God, my God, thou art a direct God, may I not say a literal God, a God that wouldst be understood literally and according to the plain sense of all that thou sayest. But thou art also (Lord, I intend it to thy glory, and let no profane misinterpreter abuse it to thy diminution), thou art a figurative, a metaphorical God too: a God in whose words there is such a height of figures, such voyages, such peregrinations to fetch remote and precious metaphors, such extensions, such spreadings, such curtains of allegories, such third heavens of hyperboles, so harmonious elocutions, so retired and

so reserved expressions, so commanding persuasions, so persuading commandments, such sinews even in thy milk and such things in thy words, as 4. Controversy that went as far as a lawsuit. 5. Self-esteem. 6. Mainland.

7. This phrase gave Ernest Hemingway the title for his novel For Whom the Bell Tolls. 8. Meet his expenses.

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all profane? authors seem of the seed of the serpent that creeps; thou art the dove that flies. Oh, what words but thine can express the inexpressible texture and composition of thy word; in which, to one man, that argument that binds his faith to believe that to be the word of God is the reverent simplicity of the word, and to another, the majesty of the word; and in which two men,

equally pious, may meet, and one wonder that all should not understand it, and the other as much that any man should. So, Lord, thou givest us the same earth to labor on and to lie in; a house and a grave of the same earth; so, Lord, thou givest us the same word for our satisfaction and for our inquisition,' for our instruction and for our admiration too. For there are places that thy servants Jerome and Augustine would scarce believe (when they grew warm by mutual letters) of one another that they understood them, and yet both Jerome and Augustine call upon persons whom they knew to be far weaker than they thought one another (old women and young maids) to read thy Scriptures, without confining them to these or those places. Neither art thou thus a figurative, a metaphorical God, in thy word only, but in thy works too. The style of thy works, the phrase of thine actions, is metaphorical. The institution of thy whole worship in the old law was a continual allegory; types and figures? overspread all, and figures flowed into figures, and poured themselves out into further figures. Circumcision carried a figure of baptism,* and baptism carries a figure of that purity which we shall have in perfection in the New Jerusalem. Neither didst thou speak and work in this language only in the time of the prophets; but since thou spokest in thy son it is so too. How often, how much more often, doth thy son call himself a way and a light and a gate and a vine and bread than the son of God or of man? How much oftener doth he exhibit a metaphorical Christ than a real, a literal? This hath occasioned thine ancient servants,

whose delight it was to write after thy copy,’ to proceed the same way in their expositions of the Scriptures, and in their composing both of public liturgies and of private prayers to thee, to make their accesses to thee in such a kind of language as thou wast pleased to speak to them, in a figurative, in a metaphorical language; in which manner I am bold to call the comfort which I receive now in this sickness, in the indication of the concoction® and matu-

rity thereof, in certain clouds’ and residences® which the physicians observe, a discovering of land from sea after a long and tempestuous voyage. * * * 1623

9. Secular. 1. Investigation.

2. Saints Jerome and Augustine did in fact differ over the proper way of interpreting the Bible, yet they both encouraged its use by the unlearned. 3. Anticipations or prefigurations, especially persons and events in the Hebrew Bible that were read as prefiguring Christ, or some aspect of the New Testament or of Christian practice. For a

1624

beautiful poem

exemplifying this process, see

Herbert, “The Bunch of Grapes” (p. 1268).

4. Both circumcision and baptism are rites of admission to a religious community. Da lext. ; 6. Ripening. 7. Cloudy urine. 8. Residues.

From Death’s Duel! [Donne’s last sermon, on Psalm 68.20: “And unto God the Lord belong the issues” of Death”—i.e., from death.| * * * First, then, we consider this exitus mortis, to be liberatio 4 morte, that with God, the Lord are the issues of death, and therefore in all our deaths,

and the deadly calamities of this life, we may justly hope of a good issue from him; and all our periods and transitions in this life, are so many passages from death to death. Our very birth and entrance into this life is exitus a morte, an issue from death, for in our mother’s womb we are dead so, as that we do not know we live, not so much as we do in our sleep, neither

is there any grave so close, or so putrid a prison, as the womb would be unto us, if we stayed in it beyond our time, or died there before our time. In the grave the worms do not kill us, we breed and feed, and then kill the worms which we ourselves produced. In the womb the dead child kills the mother that conceived it, and is a murderer, nay a parricide, even after it is dead. And if we be not dead so in the womb, so as that being dead, we kill her that gave us our first life, our life of vegetation,* yet we are dead so, as David’s idols are dead. In the womb we have eyes and see not, ears and hear not.* There in the womb we are fitted for works of darkness, all the while deprived of light: And there in the womb we are taught cruelty, by being fed with blood, and may be damned, though we be never born. * * * But then this exitus a morte is but introitus in mortem, this issue, this deliverance from that death, the death of the womb, is an entrance, a deliv-

ering over to another death, the manifold deaths of this world. We have a winding-sheet? in our mother’s womb, which grows with us from our conception, and we come into the world wound up in that winding-sheet, for we come to seek a grave. * * * Now this which is so singularly peculiar to him [Christ], that his flesh should not see corruption, at his second coming, his coming to Judgment, shall extend to all then alive, their flesh shall not see corruption. .. . But for us that die now and sleep in the state of the dead, we must all pass this posthume death, this death after death, nay this death after burial, this dissolution after dissolution, this death of corruption and putrefaction, of vermiculation and incineration, of dissolution and dispersion in and from the grave. When those bodies that have been the children of royal parents, and the parents of royal children, must say with Job, to corruption, thou art my 1. The printed version of this sermon (1632) has the subtitle “A Consolation to the Soul, against

the dying life, and living death of the body.” Donne’s friend and executor Henry King (later

bishop of Chichester) supplied the further information that the sermon was delivered at Whitehall, before King Charles, that it was delivered

only a few days before Donne’s death, and that it was fitly styled “the author’s own funeral sermon.” Donne was a powerful and popular preacher, and this sermon was especially moving according to the testimony of many auditors, including Izaak Walton (see his account of Donne on his death-

bed, pp. 976-80). Besides the personal drama of the preacher himself visibly ill and perhaps dying,

the audience must have responded to the almost unbearably graphic analysis of the forms of death and decay—a theme that often preoccupied Donne. As in his poems, the language is personal, rich in learning and curious lore, dazzling in verbal ingenuity and metaphor. As in the Devotions, the sentences are long, sinuous, and elaborate. Typically, he uses a number of Latin phrases, but almost always translates or paraphrases them immediately. 2. Passages out. 3. L.e., of growth.

4. Paraphrases Psalm 115.5—6. 5. The placenta.

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father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister.®° Miserable riddle, when the same worm must be my mother, and my sister, and myself. Miserable incest, when I must be married to my mother and my sister, beget, and bear that worm which is all that miserable penury; when my mouth shall be filled with dust, and the worm shall feed, and feed sweetly upon me,’ when

the ambitious man shall have no satisfaction, if the poorest alive tread upon him, nor the poorest receive any contentment in being made equal to princes, for they shall be equal but in dust. One dies at his full strength, being wholly at ease and in quiet, and another dies in the bitterness of his soul, and never eats with pleasure, but they lie down alike in the dust, and the worm covers

them.® The worm covers them in Job, and in Isaiah, it covers them and is spread under them, the worm is spread under thee, and the worm covers thee.’ There’s the mats and the carpets that lie under, and there’s the state and the canopy,' that hangs over the greatest of the sons of men. Even those bodies that were the temple of the Holy Ghost, come to this dilapidation, to ruin, to rubbish, to dust: even the Israel of the Lord, and Jacob himself hath no other specification, no other denomination, but that vermis Jacob, thou worm of Jacob.” Truly the consideration of this posthume death, this death after burial, that after God (with whom are the issues of death) hath delivered me from the death of the womb, by bringing me into the world, and from the manifold deaths of the world, by laying me in the grave, I must die again in

an incineration of this flesh, and in a dispersion of that dust. * * * There we leave you in that blessed dependency,to hang upon him that hangs upon the Cross, there bathe in his tears, there suck at his wounds,

and lie down in peace in his grave, till he vouchsafe you a resurrection, and an ascension into that Kingdom, which he hath purchased for you, with the inestimable price of his incorruptible blood. Amen. 1632 6. 7. 8. 9.

Paraphrases Job 17.14. Echoes Job 24.20. Echoes Job 21.23-26. Echoes Isaiah 14.11.

1. Cloth of state, a canopy erected over a king’s throne. 2. That epithet is used in Isaiah 41.14.

IZAAK WALTON 1593-1683

», /alton’s Life of Donne, first published in 1640 as a biographical introduction to Donne's collected sermons, was the most artistic and accurate English biography to date. Walton drew on his personal knowledge of and friendship with

Donne in his later years, talked with others who knew him, and looked over his

poems, letters, and papers; but he enlivens his narrative with anecdotes that are often questionably accurate, and he quotes conversations that he could not have

heard. While Walton made an effort to research his facts, his is not a scholarly

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biography, written in accord with the canons of evidence that have evolved since Walton’s time. Rather, it is shaped by the models of life-writing admired in the seventeenth century: Plutarch’s Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans portraying subjects as examples of virtue and vice; and hagiography or saints’ lives, exemplified by Augustine’s autobiographical Confessions (ca. 400) and by Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. Walton explicitly reads Donne’s life against that of St. Augustine: rakish in youth and saintly in age. The influence of hagiography is especially evident in the passage below, on Donne’s remarkable preparations for death. It is no accident that this biography, published as religious tensions were growing acute and civil war loomed, represented Donne as a “saint” of Anglicanism. The other lives Walton wrote—of George Herbert, Richard Hooker, Henry Wotton, and Bishop Robert Sanderson—presented them as exemplary Anglican worthies to the triumphant Anglican church after the Restoration. A prosperous merchant in the clothing trade, Walton lived for several years in the parish of St. Dunstans in the west, where Donne was vicar. He was a staunch royalist, credited with smuggling one of Prince Charles’s jewels out of the country, but

‘ ‘ £

e

Donne in His Shroud. Shortly before his death in 1631, Donne posed in the shroud in which he would be buried. The resulting painting, reproduced in the 1633 edition of Donne’s collected poetry as the engraving shown here, served as a model for the stone effigy of Donne in St. Paul’s Cathedral.

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his life was otherwise unremarkable, save for his wildly popular book on fishing, The Complete Angler (1653). Written during the Cromwellian ascendancy, this series of dialogues between a fisherman and a hunter (and briefly a falconer) cre-

ates for Walton a fascinating surrogate self, Piscator, the angler. Setting the representative values of fishermen—moderation, peacefulness, generosity, thankfulness,

contemplation—over against the contrasting values assigned to hunters and falconers, Walton makes “angling” stand in for the ceremonious, peaceful, ordered life of

royalist Anglicans, now so violently disrupted. As a stylist Walton writes prose that is easy and colloquial but graceful and polished.

From The Life of Dr. John Donne! [DONNE ON HIS DEATHBED|

It is observed that a desire of glory or commendation is rooted in the very nature of man; and that those of the severest and most mortified? lives, though they may become so humble as to banish self-flattery, and such weeds as naturally grow there; yet they have not been able to kill this desire of glory, but that like our radical heat,? it will both live and die with us; and many think it should do so; and we want not sacred examples to justify the desire of having our memory to outlive our lives; which I mention, because

Dr. Donne, by the persuasion of Dr. Fox,* easily yielded at this very time to have a monument made for him; but Dr. Fox undertook not to persuade him how, or what monument it should be; that was left to Dr. Donne himself.

A monument being resolved upon, Dr. Donne sent for a carver to make for him in wood the figure of an urn, giving him directions for the compass and height of it; and to bring with it a board, of the just’ height of his body. These being got, then without delay a choice painter was got to be in readiness to draw his picture, which was taken as followeth. Several charcoal fires being first made in his large study, he brought with him into that place his winding-sheet in his hand, and having put off all his clothes, had this sheet put on him, and so tied with knots at his head and feet, and his hands so placed, as dead bodies are usually fitted to be shrouded and put into their coffin or grave. Upon this urn he thus stood with his eyes shut and with so much of the sheet turned aside as might show his lean, pale, and deathlike face, which was purposely turned toward the east, from whence he expected the second coming of his and our savior Jesus. In this posture he was drawn at his just height; and when the picture was fully finished, he caused it to be set by his bedside, where it continued and became his hourly object till his death, and was then given to his dearest friend and executor Dr. Henry King,° then chief residentiary of St. Paul’s, who caused him to be thus carved in one entire piece of white marble, as it now stands in that church;’ and by Dr. Donne’s own appointment, these words were to be affixed to it as his epitaph: 1. See Donne's sermon, “Death’s Duel” (pp. 973—

5. Exact.

74), preached on February 25, 1631; he died on

6. Poet, canon (“residentiary”) of St. Paul’s, and

March 31 and was buried in St. Paul’s on April 3. 2. Self-denying.

later bishop of Chichester. “Object”: of meditation. 7. The statue on Donne's tomb, executed by the

3. Bodily warmth.

well-known sculptor Nicholas Stone, survived the

4. His physician, Dr. Simeon Fox.

great fire and may still be seen in St. Paul’s.

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JOHANNES DONNE Sac. Theol. Profess. Post varia studia quibus ab annis tenerrimis

fideliter, nec infeliciter incubuit, instinctu et impulsu Sp. Sancti, monitu

et hortatu

REGIS JACOBI, ordines sacros amplexus, anno sui Jesu, 1614, et suae aetatis 42,

decanatu huius ecclesiae indutus 27 Novembris, 1621,

exutus morte ultimo die Martii, 1631, hic licet in occiduo cinere aspicit eum cuius nomen est Oriens.®

And now, having brought him through the many labyrinths and perplexities of a various life, even to the gates of death and the grave, my desire is he may rest till I have told my reader that I have seen many pictures of him in several habits and at several ages and in several postures; and I now mention this because I have seen one picture of him, drawn by a curious” hand, at his age of eighteen, with his sword and what other adornments might then suit with the present fashions of youth and the giddy gaieties of that age;! and his motto then was— How much shall I be changed, Before | am changed!

And if that young and his now dying picture were at this time set together, every beholder might say, “Lord! how much is Dr. Donne already changed, before he is changed!” And the view of them might give my reader occasion to ask himself with some amazement, “Lord! how much may I also, that am now in health, be changed before I am changed; before this vile, this changeable

body shall put off mortality!” and therefore to prepare for it. But this is not writ so much for my reader’s memento’ as to tell him that Dr. Donne would often in his private discourses, and often publicly in his sermons, mention the many changes both of his body and mind; especially of his mind from a vertiginous giddiness; and would as often say, “his great and most blessed change was from a temporal to a spiritual employment’; in which he was so happy, that he accounted the former part of his life to be lost; and the beginning of it to be from his first entering into sacred orders and serving his most merciful God at his altar. 8. “John Donne, Professor of Sacred Theology. After various studies, which he plied from his tenderest youth faithfully and not unsuccessfully, moved by the instinct and impulse of the Holy Spirit and the admonition and encouragement of King James, he took holy orders in the year of his Jesus 1614 and the year of his age forty-two. On the 27th of November 1621, he was invested as dean of this church, and divested by death, the

last day of March

1631. Here in the decline of

ashes he looks to One whose name is the Rising Sun.”

9. Skillful. “Habits”: garbs. 1, The picture is reproduced as the frontispiece to the second edition (1635) of Donne’s Poems.

It bears the Spanish motto Antes muerto que mudado (Rather dead than changed, i.e., constant until death), which Walton mistranslates below. 2. Memento mori, remembrance of death.

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Upon Monday after the drawing this picture, he took his last leave of his beloved study; and being sensible of his hourly decay, retired himself to his bedchamber; and that week sent at several? times for many of his most considerable friends, with whom

he took a solemn

and deliberate farewell,

commending to their considerations some sentences useful for the regulation of their lives; and then dismissed them, as good Jacob did his sons,

with a spiritual benediction. The Sunday following, he appointed his servants, that if there were any business yet undone that concerned him or themselves, it should be prepared against Saturday next; for after that day he would not mix his thoughts with anything that concerned this world; nor ever did; but, as Job, so he “waited for the appointed day of his dissolution.”* And now he was so happy as to have nothing to do but to die, to do which he stood in need of no longer time; for he had studied it long and to so happy a perfection that in a former sickness he called God to witness, “he was that

minute ready to deliver his soul into his hands, if that minute God would determine his dissolution.”* In that sickness he begged of God the constancy to be preserved in that estate forever; and his patient expectation to have his immortal soul disrobed from her garment of mortality makes me confident he now had a modest assurance that his prayers were then heard and his petition granted. He lay fifteen days earnestly expecting his hourly change; and in the last hour of his last day, as his body melted away and vapored into spirit, his soul having, I verily believe, some revelation of the beatifical vision, he said, “I were miserable if Imight not die”; and after those words,

closed many periods of his faint breath by saying often, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” His speech, which had long been his ready and faithful servant, left him not till the last minute of his life, and then forsook him, not to serve another master (for who speaks like him), but died before him; for

that it was then become useless to him that now conversed with God on earth as angels are said to do in heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being speechless, and seeing heaven by that illumination by which he saw it, he did, as St. Stephen, “look steadfastly into it, till he saw the Son of Man

standing at the right hand of God his Father”; and being satisfied with this blessed sight, as his soul ascended and his last breath departed from him, he closed his own eyes; and then disposed his hands and body into such a posture as required not the least alteration by those that came to shroud him. Thus variable, thus virtuous was the life; thus excellent, thus exemplary

was the death of this memorable man. He was buried in that place of St. Paul’s Church which he had appointed for that use some years before his death; and by which he passed daily to pay his public devotions to almighty God (who was then served twice a day by a public form of prayer and praises in that place): but he was not buried privately, though he desired it; for, beside an unnumbered number of others, many persons of nobility, and of eminency for learning, who did love and honor him in his life, did show it at his death by a voluntary and sad attendance of his body to the grave, where nothing was so remarkable as a public sorrow. To which place of his burial some mournful friends repaired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the grave of the famous Achilles,” so they strewed 3. Separate. 4. Job 14.14.

5. Walton paraphrases from Donne’s Devotions

upon Emergent Occasions, Prayer 23. 6. Acts 7.55,

7. Plutarch, “Alexander,” sec. 15.

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his with an abundance of curious and costly flowers; which course they (who were never yet known) continued morning and evening for many days, not ceasing till the stones that were taken up in that church to give his body admission into the cold earth (now his bed of rest) were again by the mason’s art so leveled and firmed as they had been formerly, and his place of burial undistinguishable to common view. The next day after his burial, some unknown friend, some one of the many lovers and admirers of his virtue and learning, wrote this epitaph with a coal on the wall over his grave: Reader! I am to let thee know,

Donne’s body only lies below; For, could the grave his soul comprise, Earth would be richer than the skies! Nor was this all the honor done to his reverend ashes; for, as there be some

persons that will not receive a reward for that for which God accounts himself a debtor, persons that dare trust God with their charity and without a witness; so there was by some grateful unknown friend that thought Dr. Donne’s memory ought to be perpetuated, an hundred marks sent to his two faithful friends and executors,* towards the making of his monument. It was not for many years known by whom; but after the death of Dr. Fox, it was known that it was he that sent it; and he lived to see as lively a representation of his dead friend as marble can express: a statue indeed so like Dr. Donne, that (as his friend Sir Henry Wotton hath expressed himself) “it seems to breathe faintly, and posterity shall look upon it as a kind of artificial miracle.” He was of stature moderately tall; of a straight and equally proportioned body, to which all his words and actions gave an unexpressible addition of comeliness. The melancholy and pleasant humor were in him so contempered that each gave advantage to the other, and made his company one of the delights of mankind. His fancy was unimitably high, equaled only by his great wit;’ both being made useful by a commanding judgment. His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent testimony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience at peace with itself. His melting eye showed that he had a soft heart, full of noble compassion; of too brave a soul to offer injuries and too much a Christian not to pardon them in others. He did much contemplate (especially after he entered into his sacred calling) the mercies of almighty God, the immortality of the soul, and the joys of heaven; and would often say, in a kind of sacred ecstasy, “Blessed be God that he is God, only and divinely like himself.” He was by nature highly passionate, but more apt to reluct at! the excesses

of it. A great lover of the offices of humanity, and of so merciful a spirit that he never beheld the miseries of mankind without pity and relief. He was earnest and unwearied in the search of knowledge, with which his

vigorous soul is now satisfied, and employed in a continual praise of that God 8. Henry King and Dr. John Monfort. 9. Mental acuity. “Fancy”: imagination.

1. Struggle against.

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that first breathed it into his active body: that body, which once was a temple of the Holy Ghost and is now become a small quantity of Christian dust: But I shall see it reanimated. Feb. 15, 1640

IW. 1640, 1675

AEMILIA LANYER 1569-1645

emilia Lanyer was the first Englishwoman to publish a substantial volume of original poems and the first to make an overt bid for patronage. She was daughter to an Italian family of court musicians who came to England in the reign of Henry VIII; they may have been Christianized Jews or, alternatively, Protestants forced to flee Catholic persecution in their native land. Some information about Lanyer’s life has come down to us from the notebooks of the astrologer and fortuneteller Simon Forman, whom Lanyer consulted in 1597. Educated in the aristocratic household of the Countess of Kent, in her late teens and early twenties Lanyer was the mistress of Queen Elizabeth’s lord chamberlain, Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon. The wealthy Hunsdon, forty-five years her senior, was a notable patron of the arts— Shakespeare’s company performed under his auspices in the 1590s—and he maintained his mistress in luxury. Yet when she became pregnant by Hunsdon at age twenty-three, she was married off to Alfonso Lanyer, one of another family of gentleman musicians attached to the courts of Elizabeth I and James I. Lanyer’s fortunes declined after her marriage. Lanyer’s poetry suggests that she resided for some time in the bookish and cultivated household of Margaret Clifford, Countess of Cumberland, and Margaret’s young daughter Anne. Lanyer reports receiving their encouragement in learning, piety, and poetry, as well as, perhaps, some support in the unusual venture of offering her poems for publication. Yet her efforts to find some niche at the Jacobean court came to nothing. Lanyer’s single volume of poems, Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum (1611) has a decided feminist thrust. A series of dedicatory poems to former and would-be patronesses praises them as a community of contemporary good women. The title poem, a meditation on Christ’s Passion that at times invites comparison with Donne and Crashaw, contrasts the good women in the Passion story with the weak, evil men portrayed there. It also incorporates a defense of Eve and all women. That defense and Lanyer’s prose epistle, “To the Virtuous Reader,” are spirited contributions to

the so-called querelle des femmes, or “debate about women,” a massive body of writings in several genres and languages: some examples include Chaucer’s Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale, Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, Joseph Swetnam’s attack on “lewd, idle, froward and unconstant women,” and Rachel Speght'’s reply. The final poem in Lanyer’s volume, “The Description of Cookham,” celebrates in elegiac mode the Crown estate occasionally occupied by the Countess of Cumberland, portraying it as an Edenic paradise of women, now lost. The poem may or may not have been written before Ben Jonson’s “To Penshurst’—commonly thought to

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have inaugurated the “country-house” genre in English literature—but Lanyer’s poem can claim priority in publication. The poems’ different conceptions of the role of women in the ideal social order make an instructive comparison.

From Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum! To the Doubtful Reader? Gentle Reader, if thou desire to be resolved, why I give this title, Salve Deus

Rex Judaeorum, know for certain, that it was delivered unto me in sleep many years before I had any intent to write in this manner, and was quite out of my memory, until I had written the Passion of Christ, when immediately it came into my remembrance, what I had dreamed long before. And thinking it a significant token? that I was appointed to perform this work, I gave the very same words I received in sleep as the fittest title | could devise for this book.

To the Queen’s Most Excellent Majesty*

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Renowned empress, and Great Britain’s queen, Most gracious mother of succeeding kings; Vouchsafe® to view that which is seldom seen, A woman’s writing of divinest things: Read it fair queen, though it defective be, Your excellence can grace both it and me. Behold, great queen, fair Eve’s apology,” Which I have writ in honor of your sex, And do refer unto your majesty To judge if it agree not with the text: And if it do, why are poor women blamed, Or by more faulty men so much defamed. #

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My weak distempered brain and feeble spirits, Which all unlearned have adventured, this To write of Christ, and of his sacred merits,

Desiring that this book her° hands may kiss: And though I be unworthy of that grace, Yet let her blessed thoughts this book embrace.

1. “Hail God, King of the Jews,” a variant of the inscription affixed to Christ’s cross. 2. Lanyer placed this explanation at the end of her volume, not the beginning, as a further authorizing gesture. Invoking the familiar genre of the dream

vision, she lays claim

to poetic,

even divine, inspiration. “Doubtful”: doubting. 3. Sign.

4. The first of eight poems addressed to court ladies whom Lanyer sought to attract as patrons; such poems commonly preface literary works by

the queen's

male courtier-poets, though usually not in such numbers. These poems are followed by a prose address to her actual patron, the Countess of Cumberland, and then by the prose epistle included here, “To the Virtuous Reader.” This first poem addresses Anne of Denmark, James I’s queen, patron of writers such as Ben Jonson and Samuel Daniel, and mother of Prince Henry, Princess Elizabeth, and the future Charles I. 5. The biblical text (Genesis 1-3).

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And pardon me, fair queen, though I presume To do that which so many better can;

Not that I learning to myself assume, Or that I would compare with any man: But as they are scholars, and by art do write, So Nature yields my soul a sad° delight.

solemn, serious

And since all arts at first from Nature came,

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That goodly creature, mother of perfection Whom Jove’s® almighty hand at first did frame, Taking both her and hers’ in his protection: Why should not she now grace my barren muse, And in a woman all defects excuse. So peerless princess humbly I desire, That your great wisdom would vouchsafe t’omit® All faults; and pardon if my spirits retire, Leaving® to aim at what they cannot hit: To write your worth, which no pen can express, Were but t’eclipse your fame, and make it less.®

overlook declining

To the Virtuous Reader

Often have I heard, that it is the property of some women, not only to emulate the virtues and perfections of the rest, but also by all their powers of ill speaking, to eclipse the brightness of their deserved fame: now contrary to their custom, which men I hope unjustly lay to their charge, I have written this small volume, or little book, for the general use of all virtuous ladies and gentlewomen of this kingdom; and in commendation of some particular persons of our own sex, such as for the most part, are so well known to myself,

and others, that I dare undertake Fame dares not to call any better. And this have I done, to make known to the world, that all

women deserve not to be

blamed though some forgetting they are women themselves, and in danger to be condemned by the words of their own mouths, fall into so great an error,

as to speak unadvisedly against the rest of their sex; which if it be true, | am persuaded they can show their own imperfection in nothing more: and therefore could wish (for their own ease, modesties, and credit) they would refer

such points of folly, to be practiced by evil-disposed men, who forgetting they were born of women,

nourished of women,

and that if it were not by the

means of women, they would be quite extinguished out of the world, and a final end of them all, do like vipers deface the wombs wherein they were bred, only to give way and utterance to their want of discretion and goodness. Such as these, were they that dishonored Christ’s apostles and prophets, putting them to shameful deaths. Therefore we are not to regard any imputations, that they undeservedly lay upon us, no otherwise than to make use of them to our own benefits, as spur to virtue, making us fly all occasions that

6. God as creator of Nature. 7. Nature and those (especially women) under Nature’s protection. 8. As her poetry of praise cannot possibly do jus-

tice to the queen, she abandons an attempt that would obscure rather than promote the queen’s fame.

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may color their unjust speeches to pass current. Especially considering that they have tempted even the patience of God himself, who gave power to wise and virtuous women, to bring down their pride and arrogancy. As was cruel Cesarus by the discreet counsel of noble Deborah, judge and prophetess of Israel: and resolution of Jael wife of Heber the Kenite:? wicked Haman, by the divine prayers and prudent proceedings of beautiful Hester:! blasphemous Holofernes, by the invincible courage, rare wisdom, and confident carriage of Judith: and the unjust Judges, by the innocency of chaste Susanna:* with infinite others, which for brevity sake I will omit. As also in respect it pleased our lord and savior Jesus Christ, without the assistance of man, being free from original and all other sins, from the time of his conception, till the

hour of his death, to be begotten of a woman, born of a woman, nourished of a woman, obedient to a woman; and that he healed women, pardoned women,

comforted women: yea, even when he was in his greatest agony and bloody sweat, going to be crucified, and also in the last hour of his death, took care to dispose of a woman: after his resurrection, appeared first to a woman, sent a woman? to declare his most glorious resurrection to the rest of his disciples. Many other examples I could allege of divers faithful and virtuous women, who have in all ages not only been confessors but also endured most

cruel martyrdom for their faith in Jesus Christ. All which is sufficient to enforce all good Christians and honorable-minded men to speak reverently of our sex, and especially of all virtuous and good women. To the modest censures of both which, I refer these my imperfect endeavors, knowing that according to their own excellent dispositions they will rather cherish, nourish, and increase the least spark of virtue where they find it, by their favorable and best interpretations, than quench it by wrong constructions. To whom I wish all increase of virtue, and desire their best opinions.

Eve's Apology in Defense of Women”

s

Now Pontius Pilate is to judge the cause® Of faultless Jesus, who before him stands, Who neither hath offended prince, nor laws, Although he now be brought in woeful bands. Onoble governor, make thou yet a pause,

9. Sisera (Canaanite leader, hence “Cesarus,”i.e.,

“Caesar’) was a Canaanite military commander (12th century B.c.£.) routed in battle by the Israelites under the leadership of the prophetess Deborah. Sisera was subsequently killed by the Kenite woman Jael, who enticed him to her tent and then drove a tent spike through his temples while he slept (Judges 4).

1. Esther (5th century B.c.E.), the Jewish wife of the Persian

King Ahasuerus

(Xerxes 1), who by

her wit and courage subverted the plot of the king’s minister, (Esther 1-7).

Haman,

to annihilate

the Jews

2. Jewish wife and example of chastity (6th century B.C.E.). She was falsely accused of adultery by two Jewish elders, in revenge for refusing their sexual advances, and condemned to death. The wise judge Daniel saved her by uncovering the elders’ perjury (Apocrypha, Book of Susanna).

case

Judith in the 5th century B.c.e£. delivered her Judean countrymen from the Assyrians by captivating their leader, Holofernes, with her charms

and then decapitating him while he was drunk (Apocrypha, Book ofJudith). 3. Christ asked his apostle John to care for his mother Mary (John 19.25-27). “Dispose of”: provide for. 4. Mary Magdalen (John 20.1-18). 5. Lanyer supplies the title for this subsection of the Salve Deus on her title page. Eve is not, however, the speaker; rather, the narrator presents Eve’s “Apology” (defense of her actions), which is also a defense of all women. She does so by means of an apostrophe (impassioned address) to Pilate, the Roman official who authorized the crucifixion of Jesus. Lanyer makes Pilate and Adam representatives of the male gender, whereas

Eve and Pilate’s wife represent womankind.

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Do not in innocent blood inbrue® thy hands; But hear the words of thy most worthy wife, Who sends to thee, to beg her Savior’s life.°

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stain

Let barb’rous cruelty far depart from thee, And in true justice take affliction’s part; Open thine eyes, that thou the truth may’st see. Do not the thing that goes against thy heart, Condemn not him that must thy Savior be; But view his holy life, his good desert. Let not us women glory in men’s fall,’ Who had power given to overrule us all. Till now your indiscretion sets us free. And makes our former fault much less appear; Our mother Eve, who tasted of the tree,

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i] Pil

Giving to Adam what she held most dear, Was simply good, and had no power to see;® The after-coming harm did not appear: The subtle serpent that our sex betrayed Before our fall so sure a plot had laid. That undiscerning ignorance perceived No guile or craft that was by him intended; For had she known of what we were bereaved,’

To his request she had not condescended.° 30

consented

But she, poor soul, by cunning was deceived; No hurt therein her harmless heart intended:

For she alleged® God’s word, which he® denies, That they should die, but even as gods be wise.

asserted / serpent

But surely Adam cannot be excused; Her fault though great, yet he was most to blame; 35

What weakness offered, strength might have refused,

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Being lord of all, the greater was his shame. Although the serpent’s craft had her abused, God’s holy word ought all his actions frame,° For he was lord and king of all the earth, Before poor Eve had either life or breath,

determine

Who being framed® by God’s eternal hand The perfectest man that ever breathed on earth; And from God’s mouth received that strait? command,

fashioned

strict

The breach whereof he knew was present death; 6. Pilate’s wife wrote her husband a letter urging Pilate to spare Jesus, about whom she had a warning dream (Matthew 27.19). 7. The fall of Adam, and the prospective fall of Pilate.

Knowledge of Good and Evil. Her action was usually ascribed to intemperance, pride, and ambition. 9. Deprived, specifically of eternal life. In Genesis 3, Eve was enticed by the serpent to eat the

8. In Eden, Eve ate the forbidden fruit first, at

the serpent’s bidding. Genesis commentary usually emphasized Eve's full knowledge that God had forbidden them on pain of death and banish-

forbidden fruit; God expelled Adam to hard and subjection

ment

fering and death.

from Eden

to eat the fruit of the Tree of

she in them labor, to her

turn enticed her husband. from Eden, condemning Eve to pain in childbirth husband, and both to suf-

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Yea, having power to rule both sea and land, Yet with one apple won to lose that breath! Which God had breathed in his beauteous face, Bringing us all in danger and disgrace. And then to lay the fault on Patience’ back,

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That we (poor women) must endure it all.

We know right well he did discretion lack, Being not persuaded thereunto at all. If Eve did err, it was for knowledge sake; The fruit being fair persuaded him to fall: No subtle serpent’s falsehood did betray him; If he would eat it, who had power to stay° him?

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Not Eve, whose fault was only too much love, Which made her give this present to her dear, That what she tasted he likewise might prove,° Whereby his knowledge might become more clear; He never sought her weakness to reprove With those sharp words which he of God did hear; Yet men will boast of knowledge, which he took

prevent

experience

From Eve’s fair hand, as from a learned book.

If any evil did in her remain, Being made of him,’ he was the ground of all. If one of many worlds? could lay a stain Upon our sex, and work so great a fall To wretched man by Satan’s subtle train,* What will so foul a fault amongst you all? Her weakness did the serpent’s words obey, But you in malice God’s dear Son betray,

YD

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Whon,, if unjustly you condemn to die, Her sin was small to what you do commit; All mortal sins® that do for vengeance cry Are not to be compared unto it. If many worlds would altogether try By all their sins the wrath of God to get, This sin of yours surmounts them all as far As doth the sun another little star.° Then let us have our liberty again, And challenge® to yourselves no sovereignty. You came not in the world without our pain, Make that a bar against your cruelty; Your fault being greater, why should you disdain Our being your equals, free from tyranny?

1. The breath of life, which would have been eternal.

2. Genesis 2.21-22 reports God’s creation of Eve from Adam’s rib. 3. May allude to the commonplace that man is a little world, applying it here to woman.

claim

4. Tradition identifies Satan with the serpent, although that identification is not made in Genesis. 5. Sins punishable by damnation. 6. In the Ptolemaic system, the sun was larger than the other planets and the fixed stars.

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If one weak woman simply did offend, This sin of yours hath no excuse nor end, To which, poor souls, we never gave consent. 90

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Witness, thy wife, O Pilate, speaks for all,

Who did but dream, and yet a message sent That thou shouldest have nothing to do at all With that just man® which, if thy heart relent, Why wilt thou be a reprobate® with Saul’ To seek the death of him that is so good, For thy soul’s health to shed his dearest blood?

Christ damned

loll

The Description of Cookham! Farewell, sweet Cookham, where I first obtained

s

Grace? from that grace where perfect grace remained; And where the muses gave their full consent, I should have power the virtuous to content; Where princely palace willed me to indite,° The sacred story of the soul’s delight.’

write

Farewell, sweet place, where virtue then did rest, And all delights did harbor in her breast;

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Never shall my sad eyes again behold Those pleasures which my thoughts did then unfold. Yet you, great lady, mistress of that place, From whose desires did spring this work of grace; Vouchsafe® to think upon those pleasures past, As fleeting worldly joys that could not last,

is

Or, as dim shadows of celestial pleasures,

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Which are desired above all earthly treasures. Oh how, methought, against°® you thither came, in Each part did seem some new delight to frame! The house received all ornaments to grace it, And would endure no foulness to deface it. And walks put on their summer liveries,* And all things else did hold like similes:° The trees with leaves, with fruits, with flowers clad, Embraced each other, seeming to be glad,

7. King of Israel who sought the death of God's annointed prophet-king, David. The parallel is with Pilate, who sought Christ’s death. 1. The poem was written in honor of Margaret Clifford, Countess of Cumberland, and celebrates a royal estate leased to her brother, at which the countess occasionally resided. The poem should be compared with Jonson's “To Penshurst” (pp. 1096-98). Lanyer’s poem is based on a familiar classical topic, the “farewell to a place,” which had its most famous development in Virgil’s Eclogue 1, Lanyer makes extensive use of the common pastoral motif of nature’s active sympathy with and response to human emotion—which

be willing

preparation for

later came to be called the “pathetic fallacy.” 2. Here, both God's grace and the favor of Her Grace, the Countess of Cumberland. Lanyer attributes both her religious conversion and her vocation as poet to a period of residence at Cookham in the countess’s household. We do not know how long or under what circumstances Lanyer resided there.

3. Apparently a reference to the countess as her patron, commissioning her Passion poem.

4. Distinctive garments worn by persons in the service of great families, to indicate whose servants they were. 5. Behaved in similar fashion.

THE

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Turning themselves to beauteous canopies, To shade the bright sun from your brighter eyes; The crystal streams with silver spangles graced, While by the glorious sun they were embraced; The little birds in chirping notes did sing, To entertain both you and that sweet spring. And Philomela® with her sundry lays, Both you and that delightful place did praise. Oh how me thought each plant, each flower, each tree

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Set forth their beauties then to welcome thee! The very hills right humbly did descend, When you to tread on them did intend. And as you set your feet, they still did rise, Glad that they could receive so rich a prize. The gentle winds did take delight to be Among those woods that were so graced by thee, And in sad murmur uttered pleasing sound, That pleasure in that place might more abound. The swelling banks delivered all their pride When such a phoenix’ once they had espied. Each arbor, bank, each seat, each stately tree,

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Thought themselves honored in supporting thee. The pretty birds would oft come to attend thee, Yet fly away for fear they should offend thee; The little creatures in the burrow by Would come abroad to sport them in your eye, Yet fearful of the bow in your fair hand,

Would run away when you did make a stand. Now let me come unto that stately tree, Wherein such goodly prospects you did see; That oak that did in height his fellows pass, As much as lofty trees, low growing grass, Much like a comely cedar straight and tall, Whose beauteous stature far exceeded all. How often did you visit this fair tree, 60

Which seeming joyful in receiving thee, Would like a palm tree spread his arms abroad, Desirous that you there should make abode; Whose fair green leaves much like a comely veil, Defended Phoebus® when he would assail;

resisted the sun

Whose pleasing boughs did yield a cool fresh air, Joying® his happiness when you were there. Where being seated, you might plainly see

enjoying

Hills, vales, and woods, as if on bended knee 70

They had appeared, your honor to salute, Or to prefer some strange unlooked-for suit;®

6. In myth, Philomela was raped by her brotherin-law Tereus, who also tore out her tongue; the gods transformed her into a nightingale. Here the bird’s song is joyous but later mournful (line 189), associating her own woes with those of Cookham at the women’s departure. 7. Mythical bird that lived alone of its kind for

five hundred years, then was consumed

in flame

and reborn from its own ashes; metaphorically, a person of rare excellence. “All their pride”: fish (cf. “To Penshurst,” p. 1097, lines 31-36). 8. To urge some monarch.

unexpected

petition, as to a

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LANYER

All interlaced with brooks and crystal springs, A prospect fit to please the eyes of kings. And thirteen shires appeared all in your sight, Europe could not afford much more delight. What was there then but gave you all content, While you the time in meditation spent Of their Creator’s power, which there you saw, In all his creatures held a perfect law; And in their beauties did you plain descry° His beauty, wisdom, grace, love, majesty. In these sweet woods how often did you walk, With Christ and his apostles there to talk; Placing his holy writ in some fair tree To meditate what you therein did see. With Moses you did mount his holy hill To know his pleasure, and perform his will.? With lowly David you did often sing His holy hymns to heaven’s eternal King.' And in sweet music did your soul delight To sound his praises, morning, noon, and night.

With blessed Joseph you did often feed Your pined brethren, when they stood in need.? And that sweet lady sprung from Clifford’s race, Of noble Bedford’s blood, fair stem of grace,’ To honorable Dorset now espoused,* In whose fair breast true virtue then was housed, Oh what delight did my weak spirits find In those pure parts° of her well framéd mind. And yet it grieves me that I cannot be 100

perceive

qualities

Near unto her, whose virtues did agree

With those fair ornaments of outward beauty, Which did enforce from all both love and duty. Unconstant Fortune, thou art most to blame, 105

Who casts us down into so low a frame Where our great friends we cannot daily see, So great a difference is there in degree.° Many are placéd in those orbs of state, Parters® in honor, so ordained by Fate,

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Nearer in show, yet farther off in love, In which, the lowest always are above.’ But whither am I carried in conceit,°

9. You sought out and followed God’s law, like Moses, who received on Mount Sinai.

the Ten Commandments

1. You often sang David's psalms. 2. Like Joseph, who fed the starving Israelites in Egypt, you fed the hungry. 3. Main line of the family tree. Anne Clifford, only surviving child of the seaman-adventurer George Clifford, third earl of Cumberland,

and

the countess, a Russell (of “Bedford’s blood”). 4. Anne Clifford was married to Richard Sackville, third earl of Dorset, on February 25, 1609;

thought, fancy

the reference helps date Lanyer’s poem. 5. These lines and lines 117-25 probably exaggerate Lanyer’s former familiarity with Anne Clifford. 6. Separators, i.e., the various honorific ranks (“orbs of state”) act to separate person from per-

son.

7. An egalitarian sentiment playing on the Chris-

tian notion that in spiritual things—love and charity—the poor and lowly surpass the great ones,

THE

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135,

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DESCRIPTION

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My wit too weak to conster® of the great. Why not? Although we are but born of earth, We may behold the heavens, despising death; And loving heaven that is so far above, May in the end vouchsafe us entire love.® Therefore sweet memory do thou retain Those pleasures past, which will not turn again: Remember beauteous Dorset’s? former sports, So far from being touched by ill reports, Wherein myself did always bear a part, While reverend love presented my true heart. Those recreations let me bear in mind, Which her sweet youth and noble thoughts did find, Whereof deprived, I evermore must grieve, Hating blind Fortune, careless to relieve. And you sweet Cookham, whom these ladies leave, I now must tell the grief you did conceive At their departure, when they went away, How everything retained a sad dismay. Nay long before, when once an inkling came, Methought each thing did unto sorrow frame: The trees that were so glorious in our view, Forsook both flowers and fruit, when once they knew Of your depart, their very leaves did wither, Changing their colors as they grew together. But when they saw this had no power to stay you, They often wept, though, speechless, could not pray you, Letting their tears in your fair bosoms fall, As if they said, Why will ye leave us all? This being vain, they cast their leaves away Hoping that pity would have made you stay: Their frozen tops, like age’s hoary hairs, Shows their disasters, languishing in fears. A swarthy riveled rind? all over spread, Their dying bodies half alive, half dead. But your occasions called you so away! That nothing there had power to make you stay. Yet did I see a noble grateful mind Requiting each according to their kind, Forgetting not to turn and take your leave Of these sad creatures, powerless to receive Your favor, when with grief you did depart, Placing their former pleasures in your heart, Giving great charge to noble memory There to preserve their love continually. But specially the love of that fair tree, That first and last you did vouchsafe to see, In which it pleased you oft to take the air

8. L.e., we (lowly) may also love God and enjoy God’s love, and hence are equal to anyone. 9. As was common, Anne Clifford is here referred to by her husband's title.

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bark

1. After her husband’s death (1605) Margaret Clifford chiefly resided in her dower properties in the north; Anne Clifford was married in 1609.

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LANYER

With noble Dorset, then a virgin fair, Where many a learned book was read and scanned, To this fair tree, taking me by the hand,

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You did repeat the pleasures which had passed, Seeming to grieve they could no longer last. And with a chaste, yet loving kiss took leave, Of which sweet kiss I did it soon bereave,° Scorning a senseless creature should possess So rare a favor, so great happiness.

soon take from it

No other kiss it could receive from me, For fear to give back what it took of thee,

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So I ungrateful creature did deceive it Of that which you in love vouchsafed to leave it. And though it oft had given me much content, Yet this great wrong I never could repent; But of the happiest made it most forlorn, To show that nothing's free from Fortune’s scorn, While all the rest with this most beauteous tree Made their sad comfort sorrow’s harmony. The flowers that on the banks and walks did grow, Crept in the ground, the grass did weep for woe. The winds and waters seemed to chide together Because you went away they knew not whither; And those sweet brooks that ran so fair and clear, With grief and trouble wrinkled did appear. Those pretty birds that wonted® were to sing, Now neither sing, nor chirp, nor use their wing, But with their tender feet on some bare spray,

accustomed

Warble forth sorrow, and their own dismay. Fair Philomela leaves her mournful ditty, 190

Drowned in deep sleep, yet can procure no pity. Each arbor, bank, each seat, each stately tree Looks bare and desolate now for want of thee, Turning green tresses into frosty gray,

While in cold grief they wither all away. The sun grew weak, his beams no comfort gave, While all green things did make the earth their grave. Each briar, each bramble, when you went away Caught fast your clothes, thinking to make you stay; Delightful Echo wonted to reply 200

205

To our last words, did now for sorrow die;

The house cast off each garment that might grace it, Putting on dust and cobwebs to deface it. All desolation then there did appear, When you were going whom they held so dear. This last farewell to Cookham here I give, When I am dead thy name in this may live, Wherein

I have performed her noble hest®

Whose virtues lodge in my unworthy breast,

commission

And ever shall, so long as life remains,

Tying my life to her by those rich chains.°

her virtues 1611

BEN JONSON 1572-1637

_n 1616 Ben Jonson published his Works, to the derision of those astounded to see ~ mere plays and poems collected under the same title the king gave to his political treatises. Many of Jonson’s contemporaries shied away from publication, either because, like Donne, they wrote for small coterie audiences or because, like Shake-

speare, they wrote for theater companies that preferred not to let go of the scripts. Jonson knew and admired both Donne and Shakespeare and more than any Jacobean belonged to both of their very different worlds, but in publishing his Works he laid claim to higher literary status. He had risen from humble beginnings to become England’s unofficial poet laureate, with a pension from the king and honorary degrees from both Oxford and Cambridge. If he was not the first professional author in England, he was the first to invest that role with dignity and respectability. His published Works, over which he labored with painstaking care, testify to an extraordinary feat of self-transformation. Jonson’s early life was tough and turbulent. The posthumous son of a London clergyman, he was educated at Westminster School under the great antiquarian scholar William Camden. There he developed his love ofclassical learning, but lacking the resources to continue his education, Jonson was forced to turn to his step-

father’s trade of bricklaying, a life he “could not endure.” He escaped by joining the English forces in Flanders, where, as he later boasted, he killed a man in single combat before the eyes of two armies. Back in London, his attempt to make a living as an actor and a playwright almost ended in early disaster. He was imprisoned in 1597 for collaborating with Thomas Nashe on the scandalous play The Isle of Dogs (now lost), and shortly after his release he killed one of his fellow actors in a duel.

Jonson escaped the gallows by pleading benefit of clergy (a medieval privilege exempting felons who could read Latin from the death penalty). His learning had saved his life, but he emerged from captivity branded on the thumb, and with another mark against him as well. Under the influence of a priest imprisoned with him, he had converted to Catholicism. Jonson was now more than ever a marginal figure, distrusted by the society that he satirized brilliantly in his early plays. Jonson’s fortunes improved with the accession of James I, though not at once. In 1603 he was called before the Privy Council to answer charges of “popery and treason” found in his play Sejanus. Little more than a year later he was in jail again for his part in the play Eastward Ho, which openly mocked the king’s Scots accent and propensity for selling knighthoods. Yet Jonson was now on the way to establishing himself at the new court. In 1605 he received the commission to organize the Twelfth Night entertainment, or masque; eventually he would produce twenty-four masques for the court, most of them in collaboration with the architect and scene designer Inigo Jones. In the same years that he was writing the masques, he produced his greatest works for the public theater. His first successful play, Every Man in His Humor (1598), had inaugurated the so-called comedy of humors, which ridicules the eccentricities of the characters, thought to be caused by physiological imbalance. He capitalized on this success with the comedies Volpone (1606), Epicene (1609), The Alchemist (1610), and Bartholomew Fair (1614). Jonson preserved

the detached, satiric perspective of an outsider, but he was rising in society and making accommodations where necessary. In 1605, when suspicion fell upon him

as a Catholic following the exposure of the Gunpowder Plot, he showed his loyalty DOK

992.

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BEN

JONSON

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| Bomamin

Ca

.

FA ir he J npr ah * ‘ LOngons py 7\

foc

eo

Jonson's 1616 Works. This title page makes a strong claim for the importance of Jonson’s literary achievement and for the significance of English drama in general. The columned portico suggests Jonson’s connection to the classical tradition, and the figures within it represent his mastery of various genres; they represent, clockwise from the top, Tragicomedy, Pastoral, Comedy, Tragedy, and Satire. Underneath Tragedy is a cart of the sort medieval traveling players would have used; underneath Comedy is an ancient Greek amphitheater. Centered just beneath Tragicomedy is a depiction of the English public theaters for which Jonson wrote many of his plays.

by agreeing to serve as a spy for the Privy Council. Five years later he would return to the Church of England. Although he rose to a position of eminent respectability, Jonson retained a quarrelsome spirit all his life. Much of his best work emerged out of fierce tensions with collaborators and contemporaries. At the turn of the century he became embroiled in the so-called War of the Theaters, in which he satirized and was satirized by his

VOLPONE

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9:93)

fellow playwrights John Marston and Thomas Dekker. Later, his long partnership with Inigo Jones was marked by ever more bitter rivalry over the relative importance of words and scenery in the masques. Jonson also poured invective on the theater audiences when they failed, in his view, to appreciate his plays. The failure of his play The New Inn elicited his “Ode to Himself” (1629), a disgusted farewell to the “loathed stage.” Yet even after a stroke in 1629 left him partially paralyzed and confined to his home, Jonson continued to write; and he was at work on a new play when he died in 1637. In spite of his antagonistic nature, Jonson had a great capacity for friendship. His friends included Shakespeare, Donne, Francis Bacon, and John Selden. In later years he gathered about himself a group of admiring younger men known as the “Sons of Ben,” among them Robert Herrick, Thomas Carew, and Sir John Suckling. He was a fascinating and inexhaustible conversationalist, as recorded by his friend William Drummond of Hawthornden, who carefully noted down Jonson’s remarks on many subjects, ranging from his fellow poets to his sexual predilections. Jonson also moved easily among the great of the land. His patrons included Lady Mary Wroth and other members of the Sidney and Herbert families. In “To Penshurst,” a celebration of Robert Sidney’s country estate, Jonson offers an ideal image of a social order in which a virtuous patriarchal governor offers ready hospitality to guests of all stations, from poets to kings. “To Penshurst,” together with Aemilia Lanyer’s “Description of Cookham,” inaugurated the small genre of the “country-house poem” in England. Jonson tried his hand, usually with success, at a wide range of poetic genres, including epitaph and epigram, love and funeral elegy, verse satire and verse letter, song and ode. More often than not he looked back to classical precedents. From the Roman poets Horace and Martial he derived not only generic models but an ideal vision of the artist and society against which he measured himself and the court he served. In many poems he adopted the persona of a witty, keenly perceptive, and scrupulously honest judge of men and women. The classical values Jonson most admired are enumerated in “Inviting a Friend to Supper,” which describes a dinner party characterized by moderation, civility, graciousness, and pleasure that delights without enslaving— all contrasting sharply with the excess and licentiousness that marked the banquets and entertainments of imperial Rome and Stuart England. Yet the poet who produced this image of moderation was a man of immense appetites, which found expression in his art as well as in his life. His best works seethe with an almost uncontrollable imaginative energy and lust for abundance. Even his profound classical learning manifests this impulse. The notes and references to learned authorities that spill across the margins of his Works can be seen as the literary equivalent of food and drink piled high on the poet's table. Years of hardship had taught Jonson to seek his feasts in his imagination, and he could make the most mundane object the basis for flights of high fancy. As he told Drummond, he once “consumed a whole night in lying looking to his great toe, about which he had seen Tartars and Turks, Romans and Carthaginians fight in his imagination.” In Drummond's view, Jonson was “oppressed with fantasy.” Perhaps it was so—but Jonson’s capacity for fantasy also produced a wide variety of plays, masques, and poems, in styles ranging from witty comedy to delicate lyricism.

This dark satire on human rapacity is set in Venice, but its true target Volpone is the city of London, or the city that, Jonson feared, London was about to become, It is a place devoted to commerce and mired in corruption, populated by greedy fools and conniving rascals. Like Shakespeare, Donne, and Thomas More before him, Jonson was deeply disturbed by the rise of a protocapitalist economic order

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that seemed to emphasize competition and the acquisition of material goods over reciprocal goodwill and mutual obligation. On the other hand, Jonson was also fascinated by the entrepreneurial potential liberated by the new economic order. His protagonists, Volpone and Mosca, may

be morally bankrupt, but they are also the most intelligent, adaptable characters in the play. Moreover, although Jonson was a strong advocate for the educational and morally improving potential of the theater—his theater in particular—the talents of his main

characters

are

essen-

Fox Handling Masks. This woodcut from Andrea

tially those of theatrical perfor-

Alciato’s Emblemata depicts the traditional association between foxes and deceptive human

mance and improvisation. In fact, as Jonson was well aware,

role-playing, a connection central to Volpone.

he was himself deeply implicated

in what he satirized. The lowborn, unscrupulous, brilliantly inventive Mosca, a flattering aristocratic hanger-on who aspires to high status himself, at times seems to be the author’s evil twin. Perhaps his very resemblances to Jonson required Jonson so energetically to repudiate his motives and punish his presumption at the end of the play. Volpone combines elements from several sources. The classical satirist Lucian provided the theme of the rich old man playing with moneygrubbing scoundrels who hope to inherit his wealth. Roman comedy provided prototypes for some characters: the wily parasite, the unscrupulous lawyer, the avaricious dotard, the volu-

ble woman. Some scenes, such as that in which Volpone disguised as a mountebank woos Celia at her window, are drawn from the Italian commedia dell’arte. Jonson draws as well upon ancient and medieval beast fables: stories about the crafty antihero Reynard the fox, as well as a fable about a fox that plays dead in order to catch greedy birds. But Volpone is much more than the sum of its borrowings. It is a work of enormous comic energy, full of black humor, which holds its loathsome characters up for appalled but gleeful inspection. Volpone was first performed by the King’s Men (Shakespeare's company) in the spring of 1606, at the Globe Theater. (See the illustration, in the appendices to this volume, of a contemporary popular theater constructed on similar lines.) The Globe seated some two thousand persons—aristocrats and prosperous citizens in the tiered galleries, lower-class “groundlings” in the pit in the front of the stage. The play was also performed to great applause before learned audiences at Oxford and Cambridge, to whom Jonson dedicated the printed edition of Volpone. It was first published in quarto form in 1607 and republished with a few changes in the 1616 Works, the basis for the present text.

99'S

Volpone The Fox THE PERSONS OF THE Pay!

VOLPONE, a magnifico® MOSCA, his parasite® NANO, a dwarf ANDROGYNO, a hermaphrodite CASTRONE, an eunuch VOLTORE, an advocate® CORBACCIO, an old gentleman BONARIO, a young gentleman [CORBACCIOS son]

Venetian nobleman

hanger-on

lawyer

CORVINO, a merchant

CELIA, the merchant's wife Servitore, a SERVANT [to CORVINO]| [Sir] potitic Would-be, a knight Fine Madame [Lavy] wouLp-BE, the knight's wife [Two] WoMEN [servants to LADY WOULD-BE]

PEREGRINE, a gentleman traveler AVOCATORI,° four magistrates

public prosecutors court recorder court deputies

Notario [NoTARY], the register° COMMENDATORI,° officers

[Other court officials, litter-bearers| Mercatori, three MERCHANTS Grege [members of a cRowp]| SCENE. Venice

The Argument! olpone, childless, rich, feigns sick, despairs,° ffers his state° to hopes of several heirs, ies languishing; his parasite receives

is despaired of estate

resents of all, assures, deludes, then weaves unfold / exposed ther cross-plots, which ope themselves,’ are told.° ew tricks for safety are sought; they thrive—when, bold, betrayed Ouro m2 ach tempts th’other again, and all are sold.°

Prologue Now, luck yet send us, and a little wit

Will serve to make our play hit The Persons of the Play 1. Many of the characters have allegorically apt names. “Volpone” is defined in John Florio's 1598 Italian-English dictionary as “an old fox...a sneaking, lurking, wily deceiver.” “Mosca” means “fly.” “Nano” means “dwarf.” “Voltore” means “vulture.” “Corbaccio” means “raven.” “Bonario” is derived from bono, meaning

“good.” “Corvino”

means “crow.” “Celia” means “heaven.” “Politic”

means “worldly-wise” or “temporizing.” “Peregrine” means “traveler” or “small hawk.” In many performances the symbolism of the animal names is reinforced by costuming. The Argument 1. Plot summary. Jonson imitates the acrostic “arguments” of the Latin playwright Plautus.

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According to the palates of the season.°

fashionable taste

Here is rhyme not empty of reason. asked to believe This we were bid to credit® from our poet, Whose true scope,° if you would know it, aim In all his poems still hath been this measure, To mix profit with your pleasure;! And not as some—whose throats their envy failing°— not fully expressing personal insult Cry hoarsely, “all he writes is railing,”° And when his plays come forth think they can flout them With saying he was a year about them.?

To these there needs no lie® but this his creature,° Which was, two months since, no feature;°

And, though he dares give them’ five lives to mend it, "Tis known five weeks fully penned it From his own hand, without a coadjutor,° Novice, journeyman,° or tutor. Yet thus much I can give you, as a token Of his play’s worth: no eggs are broken, Nor quaking custards with fierce teeth affrighted,* Wherewith your rout® are so delighted; Nor hales he in a gull,° old ends° reciting, To stop gaps in his loose writing, 25

With such a deal of monstrous and forced action

30

As might make Bethlehem a faction.* Nor made he his play for jests stol’n from each table,° But makes jests to fit his fable, And so presents quick® comedy, refined As best critics have designed.

denial / creation nonexistent

his detractors collaborator apprentice

mob

fool / saws

plagiarized jokes lively

The laws of time, place, persons he observeth;? From no needful rule he swerveth.

All gall and copperas® from his ink he draineth; Only a little salt’? remaineth 35

Wherewith he'll rub your cheeks, till, red with laughter,

They shall look fresh a week after.

Prologue 1. Rule, as laid down by Horace, that the poet ought to both please his audience and teach it something useful. 2. Thomas Dekker ridiculed the slow pace at which Jonson produced new work in Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet (1602), and John Marston did the same in The Dutch

had previously ridiculed, boasted: “let custards [cowards] quake, my rage must freely run.” Huge custards were a staple feature of city feasts. 4. As might win approval from lunatics (who inhabited Bethlehem hospital in London). 5. He observes the unities of time and place and the consistency of character.

Courtesan

used in ink. 7. A traditional metaphor for satiric wit.

(1605).

3. The satirist John Marston,

in a line Jonson

6. Ferrous sulfate, like gall a corrosive substance

V. OEP ONE

sla

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2916

Act 1

SCENE

|. VOLPONE's house.

[Enter] voLPONE [and] mosca.!

Good morning to the day, and, next, my gold! Open the shrine that I may see my saint.

VOLPONE

[Mosca reveals the treasure.|?

Hail the world’s soul,° and mine! More glad than is The teeming earth to see the longed-for sun Peep through the horns of the celestial Ram? Am I to view thy splendor darkening his,° That, lying here amongst my other hoards, Show’st like a flame by night, or like the day

animating principle

outshining the sun's

Struck out of chaos, when all darkness fled Unto the center.° O thou son of Sol*—

center of the earth

But brighter than thy father—let me kiss With adoration thee and every relic Of sacred treasure in this bless¢d room. Well did wise poets by thy glorious name Title that age which they would have the best,’ Thou being the best of things, and far transcending All style of joy in children, parents, friends, Or any other waking dream on earth. Thy looks when they to Venus did ascribe, They should have giv’n her twenty thousand Cupids,° Such are thy beauties and our loves.° Dear saint, Riches, the dumb god, that giv’st all men tongues, That canst do naught and yet mak’st men do all things, The price of souls; even hell, with thee to boot,°

20

our love of thee

in the bargain

Is made worth heaven! Thou art virtue, fame,

25

Honor, and all things else. Who° can get thee,

whoever

He shall be noble, valiant, honest, wise— And what he will, sir. Riches are in fortune MOSCA

A greater good than wisdom is in nature. VOLPONE ‘True, my beloved Mosca. Yet I glory More in the cunning purchase® of my wealth Than in the glad possession, since I gain No common

acquisition

risky commerce

way. I use no trade, no venture;°

I wound no earth with plowshares; fat no beasts To feed the shambles;° have no mills for iron, Oil, corn, or men, to grind ’em into powder;

35

Genesis.

1.1

1. Alternatively, the play may begin with Volpone rising from his onstage bed. 2. The treasure is probably hidden behind a cur-

tain in the alcove at the back of the stage. 3. Aries, spring.

slaughterhouse

the constellation

ascendant

in early

4. Alchemists believed gold to have issued from the sun (“Sol”). Volpone blasphemously applies this metaphor to God’s creation of the world in

5. The mythical Golden Age (when, ironically, gold was not yet in use) was influentially described by Ovid in The Metamorphoses. 6. In

Latin

poetry,

Venus

was

commonly

described as aurea, meaning “golden.” The throng of cupids Volpone imagines around her suggests gold’s irresistible, and for him highly sexual, appeal.

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I blow no subtle’ glass; expose no ships To threat’nings of the furrow-facéd sea; I turn? no moneys in the public bank, 40

45

50

exchange

Nor usure® private— MOSCA No, sir, nor devour

lend money at interest

Soft prodigals. You shall ha’ some will swallow A melting? heir as glibly as your Dutch financially dwindling Will pills® of butter, and ne’er purge for’t;° morsels Tear forth the fathers of poor families Out of their beds and coffin them alive In some kind, clasping® prison, where their bones manacling May be forthcoming? when the flesh is rotten. protruding; carted away But your sweet nature doth abhor these courses; You loathe the widow’s or the orphan’s tears Should wash your pavements, or their piteous cries Ring in your roofs and beat the air for vengeance. VOLPONE Right, Mosca, I do loathe it. MOSCA And besides, sir, You are not like the thresher that doth stand

vi wi)

With a huge flail, watching a heap of corn, And, hungry, dares not taste the smallest grain, But feeds on mallows? and such bitter herbs; Nor like the merchant who hath filled his vaults

unpalatable weeds

With Romagnia and rich Candian wines, 60

Yet drinks the lees of Lombard’s vinegar.? You will not lie in straw whilst moths and worms Feed on your sumptuous hangings? and soft beds. You know the use of riches, and dare give now From that bright heap to me, your poor observer,° Or to your dwarf, or your hermaphrodite, Your eunuch, or what other household’ trifle Your pleasure allows maint’nance°—

bed curtains follower menial you're pleased to support

VOLPONE [giving money| Hold thee, Mosca, Take of my hand; thou strik’st on truth in all, And they are envious term® thee parasite. Call forth my dwarf, my eunuch, and my fool, And let ‘em make me sport.

~I iy

[Exit MOSCA.]

What should I do But cocker up my genius,° and live free To all delights my fortune calls me to? I have no wife, no parent, child, ally To give my substance to, but whom I make® Must be my heir, and this makes men observe® me. This draws new clients° daily to my house, Women and men of every sex and age,

7 (Q0) Delicate; (2) artful.

(Venice

was

who term

and

is

renowned for its art glass.) 8. Never use a remedy for gastric distress. (The Dutch were notoriously fond of butter.)

indulge my appetite

he whom I designate flatter petitioners

9. Romagnia and rich Candian wines are expen-

sive wines from Greece and Crete. The lees of Lombard’s vinegar are the dregs of cheap Italian wine,

VOUPPOINIE

80

a2

|

C)ENS)

That bring me presents, send me plate,° coin, jewels, With hope that when I die—which they expect Each greedy minute—it shall then return Tenfold upon them; whilst some, covetous Above the rest, seek to engross° me whole,

swallow; monopolize

And counterwork,° the one unto the other,

compete; undermine

gold or silver plate

Contend in gifts as they would seem in love; All which I suffer, playing with their hopes, And am content to coin ’em into profit,

And look upon their kindness and take more, And look on that, still bearing them in hand,°

leading them on

Letting the cherry knock against their lips, And draw it by their mouths and back again.'—

90

How now!

SCENE 2. The scene continues.

NANO

[Enter] MOSCA, NANO, ANDROGYNO, [and] CASTRONE. Now, room for fresh gamesters,° who do will

entertainers

you to know They do bring you neither play nor university show,! And therefore do entreat you that whatsoever they rehearse May not fare a whit the worse for the false pace of the verse.? If you wonder at this, you will wonder more ere we pass, For know here [indicating ANDROGYNO] is enclosed the soul

of Pythagoras,* That juggler® divine, as hereafter shall follow; Which soul (fast and loose, sir) came first from Apollo, And was breathed into Aethalides,* Mercurius his° son,

trickster Mercury's

Where it had the gift to remember all that ever was done. From thence it fled forth and made quick transmigration To goldilocked Euphorbus,’ who was killed in good fashion At the siege of old Troy, by the cuckold of Sparta.° Hermotimus’ was next—I find it in my charta°— record To whom it did pass, where no sooner it was missing But with one Pyrrhus of Delos? it learned to go another philosopher a-fishing; And thence did it enter the Sophist of Greece.° Pythagoras From Pythagore she went into a beautiful piece® slut 1. In the game of chop-cherry, one player dangles a cherry in front of another, who tries to bite it. 1.2

1. University students performed classical plays or their imitations to hone their abilities in Latin oratory.

2. The four-stress meter of the skit Nano, Androgyno, and Castrone here perform was common in medieval drama but old-fashioned by Jonson’s time.

3. Ancient Greek philosopher, mathematician, and music theorist who believed in the transmigration of souls and in the mystical properties of geometrical relationships (especially triangles [triangles =trigon]). His followers observed strict

dietary restrictions and took five-year vows of silence. His thigh was rumored to be made of gold. Jonson adapts much of the career of Pythagoras’s soul from The Dialogue of the Cobbler and the Cock, by the Greek satirist Lucian.

4. The herald of the Greek Argonauts and son of the god Mercury, who inherited his father’s divine gift of memory. Thus, unlike other souls, which

forget their previous lives, Aethalides’ soul can recall its transmigrations. 5. Trojan youth who injured Achilles’ beloved friend, Patroclus, in the Iliad. 6. Menelaus, the Spartan king whose wife, Helen,

was stolen by the Trojan prince Paris.

7. Greek philosopher of about 500 B.c.k.

1000

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BEN JONSON

Hight® Aspasia the meretrix;® and the next toss of her Was again of a whore; she became a philosopher, Crates the Cynic,’ as itself doth relate it.

named

Since,’ kings, knights, and beggars, knaves, lords, and fools

since then

gat® it,

received

Besides ox and ass, camel, mule, goat, and brock,°

badger

In all which it hath spoke as in the cobbler’s cock.' But I come not here to discourse of that matter, Or his one, two, or three, or his great oath, “By quater,”?

His musics, his trigon, his golden thigh, Or his telling how elements? shift; but I

earth, air, fire, water

Would ask how of late thou hast suffered translation,° 30

And shifted thy coat in these days of reformation?° ANDROGYNO

metamorphosis

religious change

Like one of the reformed, a fool,’ as you see,

Counting all old doctrine heresy. NANO But not on thine own forbid meats hast thou ventured? ANDROGYNO 35

NANO 40

On fish, when first a Carthusian I entered.*

NANO Why, then thy dogmatical silence® hath left thee? vow ANDROGYNO Of that an obstreperous lawyer bereft me. NANO Oh, wonderful change! When Sir Lawyer forsook thee, For Pythagore’s sake, what body then took thee? ANDROGYNO A good dull mule.

ofsilence

And how, by that means,

Thou wert brought to allow of the eating of beans? ANDROGYNO Yes. NANO But from the mule into whom didst thou pass? ANDROGYNO Into a very strange beast, by some writers called

an ass; By others a precise, pure, illuminate brother? 45

Of those devour flesh and sometimes one another,?

prey on each other

And will drop you forth a libel® or a sanctified lie Betwixt every spoonful of a Nativity pie.° NANO

Si wa

polemic

Now quit thee, for heaven, of that profane nation,°

sect

And gently report thy next transmigration. ANDROGYNO To the same that I am.° what I am now NANO A creature of delight? And—what is more than a fool—an hermaphrodite? Now pray thee, sweet soul, in all thy variation® of all your shapes Which body wouldst thou choose to take up thy station? ANDROGYNO Troth, this I am in, even here would I tarry. NANO ‘Cause here the delight of each sex thou canst vary? 8. Whore. Aspasia was the mistress of the Athenian statesman Pericles. 9. Student of Diogenes, founder of the Cynic philosophy. 1. The speaker in Lucian’s dialogue (see p. 999,

he wrote Volpone. 4. Pythagoreans abstained from fish, but Car-

n. 3 above).

knowledge of religious truth. Puritans did not

2. A quater is an equilateral triangle the sides of which are evenly divisible by four. 3. The “reformed” are Protestants in general, but more specifically the Puritan wing of the Church of England. Jonson was a Catholic when

thusians, an order of Catholic monks, ate fish on

fast days. 5. Puritan

who

claimed

immediate,

visionary

observe the traditional fasting days (hence “devour flesh” in the following line). 6. Puritans substituted the term “Nativity” for “Christmas,” to avoid reference to the Mass.

VOL PON

ANDROGYNO

EB. 1h72

|

1001

Alas, those pleasures be stale and forsaken.

No, ’tis your fool wherewith I am so taken,

The only one creature that I can call blessed, For all other forms I have proved? most distressed. NANO Spoke true, as thou wert in Pythagoras still. This learnéd opinion we celebrate will,

60

found to be

Fellow eunuch, as behooves us, with all our wit and art,

To dignify that®° whereof ourselves are so great and special a part. _folly Now, very, very pretty! Mosca, this VOLPONE [applauding] Was thy invention? MOSCA If it please my patron, Not else. VOLPONE It doth, good Mosca.

65

Then it was, sir.

MOSCA

SONG

70

NANO and CASTRONE [sing] Fools, they are the only nation® Worth men’s envy or admiration, Free from care or sorrow-taking, Selves° and others merry making; All they speak or do is sterling. Your fool, he is your great man’s dearling, And your lady’s sport and pleasure; Tongue and bauble? are his treasure. Een his face begetteth laughter, And he speaks truth free from slaughter.° He’s the grace of every feast, And sometimes the chiefest guest,

group

themselves

fool’s staff; penis

Hath his trencher® and his stool, Oh, who would not be He, he, he?

VOLPONE

Who's that? Away!

One knocks without.

[Exeunt NANO and CASTRONE.| Look, Mosca.

MOSCA

Fool, begone! [Exit ANDROGYNO.]

'Tis Signor Voltore, the advocate; I know him by his knock. Fetch me my gown, VOLPONE My furs, and nightcaps; say my couch is changing,’ And let him entertain himself awhile [Exit Mosca.] Without i’th’gallery. Now, now, my clients Begin their visitation! Vulture, kite,

90

platter

When wit waits upon the fool.

80

85

with impunity

Raven, and gorcrow,’ all my birds of prey That think me turning carcass, now they come. 7. My bedsheets are being changed.

carrion crow

1002

|

BEN

JONSON

I am not for ’em® yet.

ready to die

[Enter Mosca.|

How now? The news?

mosca_ A piece of plate,° sir. VOLPONE Of what bigness? MOSCA Huge, Massy, and antique, with your name inscribed And arms? engraven. 95

VOLPONE

coat of arms

Good! And not a fox

Stretched on the earth, with fine delusive sleights° Mocking a gaping crow?® Ha, Mosca? mMosCA [laughing]| Sharp, sir. VOLPONE Give me my furs. Why dost thou laugh so, man? mosca_ I cannot choose, sir, when I apprehend 100

gold platter

What thoughts he has, without,° now, as he walks:

That this might be the last gift he should? give; That this would fetch you;° if you died today

deceptive tricks

outside

would have to bring you around

And gave him all, what he should be tomorrow; 105

What large return would come of all his ventures; How he should worshipped be and reverenced; Ride with his furs and footcloths,’? waited on

By herds of fools and clients; have clear way Made for his mule, as lettered° as himself, 110

educated

Be called the great and learnéd advocate; And then concludes there’s naught impossible. VOLPONE MOSCA

Yes, to be learnéd, Mosca.

Oh, no, rich

Implies So you And he VOLPONE MOSCA

it.° Hood an ass with reverend purple,! wealth implies learning can hide his two ambitious°® ears, aspiring; upraised shall pass for a cathedral doctor.° Doctor of Divinity My caps, my caps, good Mosca. Fetch him in.

Stay, sir, your ointment for your eyes.

[Mosca helps vOLPONE with his disguise.|

VOLPONE That’s true. Dispatch, dispatch! I long to have possession Of my new present. MOSCA

That, and thousands more

I hope to see you lord of. VOLPONE Thanks, kind Mosca. mosca_ And that, when I am lost in blended dust, And hundred such as I am in succession—

VOLPONE Nay, that were too much, Mosca. MOSCA —you shall live Still, to delude these harpies.? VOLPONE Loving Mosca! "Tis well. My pillow now, and let him enter. [Exit MOSCA. VOLPONE lies down. | 8. In one of Aesop’s Fables, the fox tricks the crow into dropping its cheese. 9, Ornamental cloths for the back of a horse. 1. Doctors of Divinity wore purple academic

hoods. 2. Mythological ravenous monsters with women’s heads and the bodies and claws of birds.

WOE RON

Now, my feigned cough, my phthisic,° and my gout,

125

Ee

|

1003

consumption; asthma

My apoplexy, palsy, and catarrhs,° Help with your forcéd functions this my posture,’ Wherein this three year I have milked their hopes.

mucus discharges imposture

He comes, I hear him. [Coughing] Uh, uh, uh, uh! Oh— SCENE 3. The scene continues.

[Enter] voLTorE [with a platter, ushered by] Mosca. MOSCA [to VOLTORE] You still are what you were, sir.

Only you, Of all the rest, are he commands? his love;

the one who possesses

And you do wisely to preserve it thus With early visitation and kind notes° Of your good meaning to® him, which, I know,

tokens

intentions toward

Cannot but come most grateful. [Loudly, to VOLPONE] Patron, sir! Here’s Signor Voltore is come— VOLPONE [weakly] What say you? Mosca __ Sir, Signor Voltore is come this morning To visit you. VOLPONE I thank him. MOSCA And hath brought A piece of antique plate bought of Saint Mark,! With which he here presents you. VOLPONE He is welcome. Pray him to come more often. MOSCA Yes. VOLTORE [straining to hear] What says he?

mosca_ He thanks you, and desires you see him often. VOLPONE Mosca. MOSCA My patron? VOLPONE [groping] Bring him near. Where is he? I long to feel his hand. MoSCA [guiding VOLPONE'’s hands toward the platter] The plate is here, sir. VOLTORE How fare you, sir? VOLPONE I thank you, Signor Voltore. Where is the plate? Mine eyes are bad. VOLTORE [relinquishing the platter] I’m sorry To see you still thus weak. MOSCA [aside]

VOLPONE

That he is not weaker.

You are too munificent.

VOLTORE

No, sir, would to heaven

I could as well give health to you as that plate. VOLPONE You give, sir, what you can. I thank you. Your love Hath taste in® this, and shall not be unanswered.

I pray you see me often. VOLTORE 1.3

Yes, I shall, sir.

1. Goldsmiths kept shop in the square of St. Mark’s Basilica.

is suggested by

1004

VOLPONE

|

BEN

JONSON

Be not far from me.

MoSCA [aside to VOLTORE| Do you observe that, sir? VOLPONE Hearken unto me still. It will concern you.

MOSCA [aside to VOLTORE] You are a happy man, sir. Know your good. VOLPONE [| cannot now last long— MOSCA (aside to VOLTORE) You are his heir, sir. VOLTORE (aside to MoscA) Am I? VOLPONE I feel me going, uh, uh, uh, uh! I am sailing to my port, uh, uh, uh, uh! 30

35

And I am glad I am so near my haven. [He pretends to lapse into unconsciousness. | mosca_ Alas, kind gentleman! Well, we must all go— VOLTORE But Mosca— MOSCA Age will conquer. VOLTORE Pray thee, hear me. Am I inscribed his heir for certain? MOSCA Are your I do beseech you, sir, you will vouchsafe To write me i'your family.” All my hopes Depend upon Your Worship. I am lost Except® the rising sun do shine on me. VOLTORE MOSCA

40

unless

It shall both shine and warm thee, Mosca. Sir,

I am a man that have not done your love All the worst offices:° here I wear your keys, See all your coffers and your caskets locked,

services

Keep the poor inventory of your jewels,

Your plate, and moneys, am your steward, sir, Husband your goods here. VOLTORE But am I sole heir? Mosca Without a partner, sir, confirmed this morning; The wax° is warm yet, and the ink scarce dry Upon the parchment. VOLTORE Happy, happy me! By what good chance, sweet Mosca? MOSCA

50

.

Your desert, sir;

I know no second cause. VOLTORE Thy modesty Is loath to know it.° Well, we shall requite it. Mosca

of the seal

admit your role

He ever liked your course, sir; that first took him.

I oft have heard him say how he admired Men of your large? profession, that could speak To every cause, and things mere contraries,° Till they were hoarse again, yet all be law; That with most quick agility could turn

utterly contradictory

And re-turn, make knots and undo them,

Give forked? counsel, take provoking gold 2. Employ me in your household (after Volpone’s death).

3. Expansive, liberal “unscrupulous”).

ambiguous (with

the suggestion

of

VOLPONE

1.4

|

1005

On either hand, and put it up:+ these men, 60

He knew, would thrive with their humility.°

obsequiousness

And for his part, he thought he should be blessed To have his heir of such a suffering?® spirit, So wise, so grave, of so perplexed® a tongue, And loud withal,° that would not wag nor scarce 65

70

if}

Lie still without a fee, when every word Your Worship but lets fall is a cecchine!° Another knocks. gold coin Who's that? One knocks; I would not have you seen, sir. And yet—pretend you came and went in haste; I'll fashion an excuse. And, gentle sir, When you do come to swim in golden lard, Up to the arms in honey, that your chin Is born up stiff with fatness of the flood, Think on your vassal; but? remember me. only I ha’ not been your worst of clients. VOLTORE Mosca— Mosca When will you have your inventory brought, sir? Or see a copy of the will? [More knocking.] Anon!°— Just a minute! I'll bring ’em to you, sir. Away, begone, Put business i’your face.’ VOLPONE Excellent, Mosca!

80

long-suffering bewildering besides

[Exit VOLTORE.|

Come hither, let me kiss thee. MOSCA Keep you still, sir. Here is Corbaccio. VOLPONE Set the plate away. The vulture’s gone, and the old raven’s come. SCENE 4. The scene continues.

MOSCA [to VOLPONE] Betake you to your silence and your sleep; [He puts up the plate.| Stand there and multiply.°—Now shall we see beget more booty

A wretch who is indeed more impotent Than this° can feign to be, yet hopes to hop Over his grave. [Enter] CORBACCIO.

Signor Corbaccio! You're very welcome, sir. CORBACCIO How does your patron? Mosca _ Troth, as he did, sir: no amends. CORBACCIO What? Mends he? Mosca _ No, sir, he is rather worse. CORBACCIO That’s well. Where is he?

mosca_ Upon his couch, sir, newly fall’n asleep. corBaccio Does he sleep well? MOSCA No wink, sir, all this night,

4, Take a bribe from each party to a suit and pocket it.

5. Look as if you were here on business.

Volpone

1006

|

BEN

JONSON

Nor yesterday, but slumbers.° CORBACCIO Good! He should take Some counsel of physicians. I have brought him An opiate here, from mine own doctor— mosca He will not hear of drugs. CORBACCIO Why, I myself Stood by while’t was made, saw all th’ingredients, And know it cannot but most gently work. My life for his, ’tis but to make him sleep. VOLPONE [aside] MOSCA

20

25

dozes fitfully

Ay, his last sleep, if he would take it. Sir,

He has no faith in physic.° CORBACCIO ’Say you? ’Say your Mosca He has no faith in physic. He does think Most of your doctors! are the greater danger And worse disease t’escape. I often have Heard him protest that your physician Should never be his heir. CORBACCIO Not I his heir? mosca_ Not your physician, sir. CORBACCIO

medicine

Oh, no, no, no,

I do not mean it. MOSCA

No, sir, nor their fees

He cannot brook.° He says they flay° a man Before they kill him. CORBACCIO Right, I do conceive? you. mosca_ And then, they do it by experiment,” For which the law not only doth absolve ’em, But gives them great reward; and he is loath To hire his death so. CORBACCIO It is true, they kill With as much license as a judge. MOSCA Nay, more: For he? but kills, sir, where the law condemns, And these? can kill him,’ too. CORBACCIO Ay, or me

Or any man. How does his apoplex?° Is that strong on him still? MOSCA Most violent.? His speech is broken and his eyes are set,° His face drawn longer than ’twas wont— CORBACCIO How? How? Stronger than he was wont? 40

MOSCA

tolerate /skin understand

the judge the doctors / the judge

apoplexy, stroke

fixed

No, sir: his face

Drawn longer than ‘twas wont.

1.4 1. Not Corbaccio’s doctors, but doctors generally. (Also in line 23.) 2. By testing possible remedies on their patients.

3. In the following lines, Mosca attributes to Volpone a wide variety of symptoms that were, even occurring singly, considered sure signs of impending death.

VOLPONE

CORBACCIO MOSCA

1.4

|

1007

Oh, good.

His mouth

Is ever gaping, and his eyelids hang. CORBACCIO

Good.

Mosca A freezing numbness stiffens all his joints, And makes the color of his flesh like lead.

45

CORBACCIO "Tis good. Mosca His pulse beats slow and dull. CORBACCIO Good symptoms still. Mosca’ And from his brain— CORBACCIO Ha? How? Not from his brain? MOSCA Yes, sir, and from his brain— CORBACCIO I conceive you, good. MoscA

—Flows a cold sweat with a continual rheum®

Forth the resolvéd® corners of his eyes. CORBACCIO _ Is't possible? Yet I am better, ha! How does he with the swimming of his head?

mucus discharge watery; limp

Mosca _ Oh, sir, ‘tis past the scotomy;* he now

Hath lost his feeling, and hath left to snort;° You hardly can perceive him that he breathes. 55

CORBACCIO

stopped snoring

Excellent, excellent. Sure I shall outlast him!

This makes me young again a score of years. Mosca _ I was a-coming for you, sir. CORBACCIO Has he made his will?

What has he giv’n me? MOSCA

CORBACCIO

60

65

No, sir.

Nothing? Ha?

Mosca He has not made his will, sir. CORBACCIO Oh, oh, oh. What then did Voltore, the lawyer, here? MOSCA He smelt a carcass, sir, when he but heard

My master was about his testament°— As I did urge him to it, for your good— corBAccio He came unto him, did he? I thought so. Mosca _ Yes, and presented him this piece of plate. corBaccio To be his heir? MOSCA

I do not know, sir.

CORBACCIO

True,

I know it too. MOSCA [aside] By your own scale,’ sir. corBAccio [showing a bag of gold] Well, I shall prevent? him yet. See, Mosca, look,

70

making his will

scale of values forestall

Here I have brought a bag of bright cecchines, Will quite weigh down his plate. MOSCA Yea, marry, sir! This is true physic, this your sacred medicine;

No talk of opiates to° this great elixir.’ 4. Dizziness, accompanied by partial blindness. | 5. In alchemy, a liquid thought to be capable of

prolonging life indefinitely metal into gold.

compared to

or changing

base

1008

|

BEN

JONSON

corBaccio "Tis aurum palpabile, if not potabile.° mosca | It shall be ministered to him in his bowl?

corsBaccio

Ay, do, do, do.

MOSCA Most blessed cordial!° This will recover him. CORBACCIO Yes, do, do, do. mosca [| think it were not best, sir. CORBACCIO What? MOSCA To recover him. CORBACCIO. Oh, no, no, no; by no means. MOSCA Why, sir, this

heart medicine

Will work some strange effect, if he but feel it. 80

corBAccIO

Tis true, therefore forbear, I'll take my venture.°

Give me 't again.

Mosca [keeping it out of his reach]

85

90

95

—_investment

[He snatches for the bag.] At no hand.° Pardon me, _ By no means

You shall not do yourself that wrong, sir. I Will so advise you, you shall have it all. CORBACCIO How? MOSCA All, sir, tis your right, your own; no man Can claim a part. Tis yours without a rival, Decreed by destiny. CORBACCIO How? How, good Mosca? mosca_ I'll tell you, sir. This fit he shall recover— corBaccio | do conceive you. MOSCA —and, on first advantage® Of his gained sense, will I re-importune him Unto the making of his testament, And show him this. CORBACCIO Good, good. MOSCA "Tis better yet, If you will hear, sir. CORBACCIO Yes, with all my heart. Mosca Now, would I counsel you, make home with speed; There frame a will, whereto you shall inscribe My master your sole heir. CORBACCIO And disinherit My son? Mosca — Oh, sir, the better, for that color® Shall make it much more taking.° CORBACCIO

opportunity

appearance, fiction plausible; attractive

Oh, but color>??

it’s only a ruse?

mosca_ This will, sir, you shall send it unto me. Now, when I come to enforce°—as I will do— 100

Your cares, your watchings, and your many prayers, Your more than many gifts, your this day’s present, And last produce your will, where—without thought Or least regard unto your proper issue,° A son so brave® and highly meriting—

6. It is gold that can be felt, if not drunk (Latin). Dissolved gold was used as a medicine.

urge

own offspring splendid

VOLPONE 105

|

1009

The stream of your diverted love hath thrown you Upon my master, and made him your heir, He cannot be so stupid or stone dead But out of conscience and mere gratitude— CORBACCIO He must pronounce me his? MOSCA "Tis true. CORBACCIO

110

1.4.

This plot

Did I think on before. MOSCA I do believe it. CORBACCIO Do you not believe it? MOSCA

Yes, sir.

CORBACCIO Mine own project. Mosca’ Which when he hath done, sir— CORBACCIO Published me his heir? Mosca _ And you so certain to survive him— CORBACCIO Ay.

Mosca Being so lusty a man— CORBACCIO "Tis true. MOSCA 115

Yes, sir—

corBaccio | thought on that too. See how he® should be The very organ to express my thoughts! Mosca You have not only done yourself a good— cORBACCIO But multiplied it on my son? MOSCA "Tis right, sir. corBaccio — Still my invention. MOSCA

120

Mosca

’Las, sir, heaven knows,

It hath been all my study, all my care, (I e’en grow gray withal) how to work things— CORBACCIO MOSCA

I do conceive, sweet Mosca.

You are he

For whom I labor here. CORBACCIO ll straight about it.

Ay, do, do, do. [CORBACCIO starts to leave.|

MOSCA Rook go with you,’ raven! corBaccio I know thee honest. MOSCA You do lie, sir— CORBACCIO And— Mosca Your knowledge is no better than your ears, sir. corBaccio I do not doubt to be a father to thee. mosca_ Nor I to gull my brother of his blessing.* CORBACCIO. I may ha’ my youth restored to me, why not? Mosca Your Worship is a precious ass— CORBACCIO What say’st thou? mosca_I do desire Your Worship to make haste, sir. 7. May you be swindled (“rooked”), Playing on “rook” meaning “crow,” “raven.” This speech and Mosca’s following lines, through line 130, could be considered asides since Corbaccio cannot hear them; but they need not be delivered sotto voce. 8. If Corbaccio were Mosca’s father, then

Bonario would be his brother. A reference to Genesis 25, in which Jacob tricks his elder brother, Esau, into resigning his birthright, and Genesis 27, in which Jacob tricks their dying father, Isaac, into giving him the paternal blessing and property.

1010

BEN

|

corBaccio

JONSON

Tis done, tis done, I go.

[Exit.]

Oh, I shall burst! Let out my sides,° let out my sides— Contain MOSCA Your flux of laughter, sir. You know this hope Is such a bait it covers any hook. Oh, but thy working and thy placing it! VOLPONE I cannot hold;° good rascal, let me kiss thee. VOLPONE [leaping from the bed|

135

I never knew thee in so rare a humor.° Alas, sir, | but do as I am taught: MOSCA 140

loosen my clothes

contain my delight so excellently witty

Follow your grave instructions, give ‘em words, Pour oil into their ears,° and send them hence.

flatter them

"Tis true, ‘tis true. What a rare punishment Is avarice to itself!” MOSCA Ay, with our help, sir. VOLPONE So many cares, so many maladies, So many fears attending on old age,

VOLPONE

145

Yea, death so often called on,° as no wish Can be more frequent with ’em, their limbs faint,

Their senses dull, their seeing, hearing, going, All dead before them; yea, their very teeth, Their instruments of eating, failing them— Yet this is reckoned life! Nay, here was one Is now gone home that wishes to live longer! Feels not his gout nor palsy, feigns himself Younger by scores of years, flatters his age With confident belying it,’ hopes he may

invoked

ability to walk

With charms, like Aeson,? have his youth restored,

And with these thoughts so battens,” as if fate Would be as easily cheated on as he, And all turns air!° Another knocks.

gluts himself is illusory

Who's that there, now? A third? 160

Mosca

Close,° to your couch again. I hear his voice.

It is Corvino, our spruce® merchant.

VOLPONE [lying down again] Dead.° Mosca Another bout, sir, with your eyes.

hide yourself dapper I'll play dead

[He applies ointment.|

Who's there?

SCENE 5. The scene continues. [Enter] CORVINO.

Signor Corvino! Come® most wished for! Oh, How happy were you if you knew it now! CORVINO Why? What? Wherein? MOSCA The tardy hour is come, sir. 9. Quoting the Stoic philosopher Seneca’s Moral Epistles, no. 115.

1, Deceives himself, and attempts to deceive others, about his age by vigorously refusing to

you

come

admit the truth.

2. Father of the Greek hero Jason; his youth was restored by Medea, his sorceress daughter-inlaw.

VOTE R@ N Es 135

CORVINO

He is not dead?

MOSCA He knows no man. CORVINO

Not dead, sir, but as good; How shall I do, then?

MOSCA coRVINO MOSCA

1011

Why, sir? I have brought him here a pearl.

Perhaps he has

So much remembrance left as to know you, sir;

He still calls on you; nothing but your name Is in his mouth. Is your pearl orient,! sir? CORVINO Venice was never owner of the like. VOLPONE [weakly] Signor Corvino— MOSCA Hark. VOLPONE —Signor Corvino— mosca He calls you. Step and give it him.—He’s here, sir, And he has brought you a rich pearl. CORVINO [to VOLPONE]| How do you, sir? [To Mosca] Tell him it doubles the twelfth carat.? [He gives VOLPONE the pearl.| MOSCA [to CORVINO| Sir, He cannot understand. His hearing’s gone; And yet it comforts him to see you— CORVINO Say I have a diamond for him too. MOSCA Best show’t, sir.

Put it into his hand; ’tis only there He apprehends; he has his feeling yet. [CORVINO gives VOLPONE the diamond.| 20

See how he grasps it! CORVINO ‘Las, good gentleman! How pitiful the sight is! MOSCA

Tut, forget, sir.

The weeping of an heir should still° be laughter Under a visor.° CORVINO Why, am I his heir? mosca__ Sir, I am sworn; I may not show the will Till he be dead. But here has been Corbaccio,

always mask

Here has been Voltore, here were others too,

30

I cannot number ’em they were so many, All gaping here for legacies; but I, Taking the vantage® of his naming you— “Signor Corvino! Signor Corvino!”—took Paper and pen and ink, and there I asked him Whom he would have his heir? “Corvino.” Who Should be executor? “Corvino.” And To any question he was silent to, 1.5 1. Especially brilliant. (The most beautiful pearls came from the Indian Ocean.) 2. In the seventeenth century, a carat was

opportunity

between 1/144 and 1/150 of an ounce. A twentyfour-carat pearl was therefore very large, weighing roughly 1/6 of an ounce.

1012

|

BEN

JONSON

I still interpreted the nods he made Through weakness for consent, and sent home th’others, Nothing bequeathed them but to cry and curse. corviINo

40

Oh, my dear Mosca! [They embrace.] Does he not

perceive us? moscA_ No more than a blind harper.* He knows no man, No face of friend, nor name of any servant, Who ‘twas that fed him last or gave him drink; Not those he hath begotten or brought up Can he remember. CORVINO Has he children? MOSCA Bastards,* Some dozen or more, that he begot on beggars, Gypsies and Jews and blackmoors,? when he was drunk. Knew you not that, sir? "Tis the common fable.°

_ black Africans rumor

The dwarf, the fool, the eunuch are all his; He’s the true father of his family

In all save° me, but he has given ‘em nothing. 50

Mosca

yI wi

except

coRVINO That’s well, that’s well. Art sure he does not hear us? Sure, sir? Why, look you, credit your own sense.°

believe your senses

[Shouting at VOLPONE] The pox® approach and add to your diseases If it would send you hence the sooner, sir. For your incontinence, it hath deserved it Throughly® and throughly, and the plague to boot.

syphilis

thoroughly

[To corvino] You may come near, sir. [shouting at VOLPONE again|

Would you would once close Those filthy eyes of yours, that flow with slime Like two frog-pits,° and those same hanging cheeks,

mud puddles

Covered with hide instead of skin—nay, help, sir— 60

That look like frozen dishclouts® set on end! CORVINO [shouting at VOLPONE| Or like an old smoked wall on

dishrags

which the rain Ran down in streaks! MOSCA

Excellent, sir! Speak out;

You may be louder yet; a culverin® Discharged in his ear would hardly bore it. coRVINO [shouting] running.

His nose is like a common

firearm sewer, still®

Mosca ‘Tis good! And what his mouth? CORVINO [shouting] A very draught!° Mosca Oh, stop it up— CORVINO

cesspool

By no means.

MOSCA Pray you let me. Faith, | could stifle him rarely with a pillow As well as any woman that should keep® him. coRVINO

continually

Do as you will, but I'll be gone.

3. Harp players were often blind. 4. By law, ordinarily barred from the line of inheritance.

take care of

VOIERPOINIE

70

n

80

|

1013

MOSCA Be so; It is your presence makes him last so long. CORVINO I pray you, use no violence. MOSCA

|a

SS

No, sir? Why?

Why should you be thus scrupulous? Pray you, sir. CORVINO Nay, at your discretion. MOSCA Well, good sir, begone. coRVINO | will not trouble him now to take my pearl? Mosca Pooh! Nor your diamond. What a needless care Is this afflicts you? Is not all here yours? Am not I here, whom you have made your creature? That owe my being to you? CORVINO Grateful Mosca! Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, My partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes. Mosca’ Excepting one. CORVINO What's that? MOSCA Your gallant® wife, sir.

splendid

[Exit CORVINO.|

Now is he gone. We had no other means To shoot him hence but this. VOLPONE My divine Mosca! Thou hast today outgone thyself. Another knocks. Who's there? I will be troubled with no more. Prepare Me music, dances, banquets, all delights.

90

The Turk? is not more sensual in his pleasures Than will Volpone. [Exit MOSCA. | Let me see, a pearl? A diamond? Plate? Cecchines? Good morning's purchase.”

haul

Why, this is better than rob churches, yet,

Or fat by eating, once a month, a man.”

i.e., taking monthly interest

[Enter MOSCA.|

100

Who is't? MOSCA The beauteous Lady Would-be, sir, Wife to the English knight, Sir Politic Would-be This is the style, sir, is directed me®’— Hath sent to know how you have slept tonight,” And if you would be visited. VOLPONE Not now. Some three hours hence— MOSCA I told the squire® so much. VOLPONE When I am high with mirth and wine: then, then. ‘Fore heaven, I wonder at the desperate® valor Of the bold English, that they dare let loose

last night

messenger reckless

Their wives to all encounters!” 5. Stereotyped as given to decadent luxuries. 6. This is the mode of address I’ve been told to use. 7. Married Englishwomen were reputed to enjoy

more personal freedom than their southern European counterparts; Venetian wives in particular were much restricted, though Celia’s situation is obviously extreme (see below, p. 1014, lines 118-26).

1014

|

BEN

JONSON

MOSCA Sir, this knight Had not his name for nothing. He is politic,° And knows, howe’er his wife affect strange? airs, She hath not yet the face® to be dishonest.° But had she Signor Corvino’s wife’s face— VOLPONE Has she so rare a face? MOSCA

unchaste

Oh, sir, the wonder,

The blazing star? of Italy! A wench O'the first year!° A beauty ripe as harvest! 110

canny foreign; bizarre

unflawed and in her prime

Whose skin is whiter than a swan, all over, Than silver, snow, or lilies! A soft lip,

Would? tempt you to eternity of kissing! And flesh that melteth in the touch to blood!! Bright as your gold, and lovely as your gold! VOLPONE Why had not I known this before? MOSCA

that would

Alas, sir,

Myself but yesterday discovered it. VOLPONE How might I see her? MOSCA Oh, not possible. She’s kept as warily as is your gold: Never does come abroad,° never takes air

outside

But at a window. All her looks are sweet As the first® grapes or cherries, and are watched As near? as they are. VOLPONE I must see her— MOSCA

of the season closely

Sir,

There is a guard of ten spies thick upon her— All his whole household—each of which is set Upon his fellow, and have all their charge When he goes out; when he comes in, examined.” VOLPONE | will go see her, though but at her window. Mosca In some disguise, then. VOLPONE That is true. I must Maintain mine own shape still the same.* We’ll think. [Exeunt.| Act 2

SCENE |. Saint Mark's Square. [Enter] POLITIC WOULD-BE [and] PEREGRINE. Sir, to a wise man all the world’s his soil.! It is not Italy, nor France, nor Europe

POLITIC

That must bound me if my fates call me forth. Yet I protest it is no salt° desire 8. (1) Beauty; (2) shamelessness. 9. Comet. (Rare and beautiful.) 1. (1) Blushes; (2) sexual responsiveness. (Mosca is evidently conjecturing here.) 2. Each member of the household spies on all the others; each gets his instructions when Corvino departs and is interrogated when he

inordinate

returns. 3. I must, in my own person, continue to pretend to be near death. Dil 1. Proverbial, like most of Sir Pol’s “original” advice. “Soil”: native land.

VWOEROIN Ee 2 al

wn

|

1015

Of seeing countries, shifting a religion,’ Nor any disaffection to the state Where I was bred—and unto which I owe

My dearest plots°—hath brought me out;° much less That idle, antique, stale, gray-headed project Of knowing men’s minds and manners with Ulysses;# But a peculiar humor® of my wife’s

projects / abroad

whim

Laid for this height® of Venice, to observe,

latitude

To quote,° to learn the language, and so forth.—

jot things down

I hope you travel, sir, with license?*

PEREGRINE Yes: POLITIC I dare the safelier converse. How long, sir, Since you left England? PEREGRINE Seven weeks. POLITIC So lately! You ha’ not been with my Lord Ambassador? Not yet, sir.

PEREGRINE

Pray you, what news, sir, vents our climate?’ I heard last night a most strange thing reported By some of my lord’s° followers, and I long the ambassador's

POLITIC

20

To hear how’t will be seconded.° PEREGRINE What was'’t, sir? POLITIC Marry, sir, of a raven that should build? In a ship royal of the King’s. PEREGRINE [aside] This fellow,

confirmed

reportedly built

Does he gull® me, trow?° Or is gulled?—Your name, sir?

poLtitic

PEREGRINE [aside]

Oh, that speaks? him.—

A knight, sir? A poor knight, sir.® POLITIC Your lady PEREGRINE Lies® here in Venice for intelligence® Of tires° and fashions and behavior 30

trick / do you suppose?

My name is Politic Would-be.

characterizes

stays / news apparel

Among the courtesans?’ The fine Lady Would-be? POLITIC Yes, sir, the spider and the bee ofttimes Suck from one flower. Good Sir Politic, PEREGRINE

I cry you mercy!° I have heard much of you.

beg your pardon

’Tis true, sir, of your raven. On your knowledge? POLITIC

PEREGRINE Yes, and your lion’s whelping in the Tower.* potitic Another whelp!

2. Throughout

the

J6th

and

17th

centuries,

members of religious minorities throughout Europe sought refuge in lands more hospitable to their faiths. 3. The hero of the Odyssey, an archetype of the wise traveler.

4. A passport. (English people could not travel abroad without permission.) 5. Comes from our part of the world?

6. In the first decade of the 17th century, King James I raised badly needed money by selling knighthoods to many whose birth, attainments, or wealth would not have previously merited a title. 7. Venice was famous for its elegant prostitutes. 8. A lioness kept at the Tower of London gave birth in 1604 and 1605.

1016

|

BEN

JONSON

Another, sir.

PEREGRINE

Now, heaven!

POLITIC

What prodigies® be these? The fires at Berwick! And the new star!’ These things concurring,° strange! And full of omen! Saw you those meteors? PEREGRINE

st range

occurrences

happening together

I did, sir.

Fearful! Pray you sir, confirm me: Were there three porpoises seen above the bridge,' As they give out?° Six, and a sturgeon, sir. PEREGRINE PoLitic I am astonished! Nay, sir, be not so. PEREGRINE I'll tell you a greater prodigy than these— PoLitic What should these things portend! The very day— PEREGRINE Let me be sure—that I put forth from London, POLITIC

40

people report

There was a whale discovered in the river

As high® as Woolwich,” that had waited there— Few know how many months—for the subversion

far upstream

Of the Stode Fleet.* POLITIC Is’t possible? Believe it, 50

"Twas either sent from Spain or the Archdukes.* Spinola’s’ whale, upon my life, my credit!° Will they not leave these projects? Worthy sir,

honor

Some other news. PEREGRINE Faith, Stone the fool is dead;

And they do lack a tavern-fool extremely. POLITIC va wi)

60

Is Mas’ Stone dead?®

He’s dead, sir. Why, I hope You thought him not immortal? [aside] Oh, this knight,

PEREGRINE

Were he well known, would be a precious thing To fit our English stage. He that should write But such a fellow should be thought to feign Extremely, if not maliciously. POLITIC Stone dead! PEREGRINE Dead. Lord, how deeply, sir, you apprehend it! He was no kinsman to you? POLITIC That? I know of.

not that

Well, that same fellow was an unknown fool.’ 9. The fires at Berwick were aurora borealis visible above Berwick, Northumberland, in 1605, said to resemble battling armies. The new star, a

supernova, was described by the astronomer Johannes Kepler in 1604. 1. A porpoise was found upstream of London Bridge in the Thames River the January before Volpone was first performed. 2. A town on the Thames, a bit to the east of London. 3. The English merchant adventurers’ ships, which were harboring at Stade, in the mouth of the Elbe River. 4. The Archduke Albert of Austria and his wife,

Isabella, the Infanta of Spain, ruled the Nether-

lands in the name of Spain. 5. Ambrosio de Spinola was general of the Spanish army in the Netherlands. 6. “Mas’” means “master,” a term of address for boys and fools. Stone, King James’s outspoken court jester, was a well-known urban character. He was whipped the year before Volpone’s first performance for slandering the Lord Admiral. Politic is evidently unaware of the play on words in “Stone dead.” 7. The person who said this was not commonly recognized as a spy; he used foolery as his cover.

VOLPONE

65

Living within the state, and so I held® him.

1017

considered

Indeed, sir?

POLITIC While he lived, in action,° subversive activities He has received weekly intelligence, Upon my knowledge, out of the Low Countries, For all parts of the world, in cabbages,° a Dutch import And those dispensed again to ambassadors In oranges, muskmelons, apricots, Lemons, pome-citrons,° and suchlike—sometimes grapefruitlike fruits In Colchester oysters, and your Selsey cockles.® PEREGRINE You make me wonder! POLITIC Sir, upon my knowledge. Nay, I have observed him at your public ordinary° tavern Take his advertisement? from a traveler— information A concealed statesman—in a trencher® of meat,

80

|

PEREGRINE And yet you knew him, it seems? POLITIC I did so. Sir, I knew him one of the most dangerous heads PEREGRINE

70

2.1

wooden plate

And instantly before the meal was done Convey an answer in a toothpick.’ PEREGRINE Strange! How could this be, sir?

POLITIC

Why, the meat was cut

So like his character,° and so laid as he

code letters

Must easily read the cipher. PEREGRINE He could not read, sir. 85

90

POLITIC In polity,°? by those But he could read, And to't® as sound PEREGRINE That your baboons

I have heard

So ‘twas given out, that did employ him. and had your languages,° a noddle°—

craftily knew foreign languages in addition / head

I have heard, sir,

were spies, and that they were A kind of subtle nation near to China. POLITIC Ay, ay, your Mamuluchi.' Faith, they had Their hand in a French plot or two, but they

Were so extremely given to women as They made discovery of? all. Yet I Had my advices® here, on Wednesday last, 95

revealed information

From one of their own coat;° they were returned, Made their relations,° as the fashion is,

And now stand fair® for fresh employment.

kind reports

ready

Heart,

PEREGRINE |[aside|

This Sir Pol will be° ignorant of nothing.

admit to being

[To poxitic] It seems, sir, you know all?

POLITIC 8. Expensive delicacies, unlikely tavern fare. 9. Presumably by inserting a tiny note into a toothpick hollowed out for espionage use.

Not all, sir. But

1. Mamluks, a class of warriors originally from Asia Minor, who ruled Egypt from 1250 to 1517.

1018

100

|

BEN

JONSON

I have some general notions; I do love To note and to observe. Though I live out,°

abroad

Free from the active torrent, yet I’d mark

The currents and the passages of things For mine own private use, and know the ebbs And flows of state. 105

PEREGRINE

Believe it, sir, | hold

Myself in no small tie unto my fortunes? For casting me thus luckily upon you, Whose knowledge—if your bounty equal it—

much obliged to my luck

May do me great assistance in instruction 110

For my behavior and my bearing, which Is yet so rude and raw— POLITIC Why, came you forth Empty of rules for travel? PEREGRINE

Faith, I had

Some common ones from out that vulgar grammar,’ Which he that cried® Italian to me taught me. PoLitic Why, this it is that spoils all our brave bloods,° Trusting our hopeful® gentry unto pedants,

taught orally fine young men promising

Fellows of outside and mere bark.* You seem

To be a gentleman of ingenuous race°— I not profess it,° but my fate hath been

honorable family don't declare it openly

To be where I have been consulted with

In this high kind,° touching some great men’s sons, Persons of blood® and honor— PEREGRINE

important matter noble birth

Who be these, sir? SCENE 2. The scene continues.

MoscA

[Enter] Mosca [and] NANO [disguised as a mountebank’s assistants]. Under that window, there’t must be. The same.

[Mosca and NANO set up a platform.] POLITIC Fellows to mount a bank!° Did your instructor In the dear tongues' never discourse to you Of the Italian mountebanks? PEREGRINE

vi

10

platform

Yes, sir.

POLITIC Why, Here shall you see one. PEREGRINE They are quacksalvers, Fellows that live by venting? oils and drugs. POLITIC Was that the character he gave you of them? PEREGRINE As I remember. POLITIC Pity his ignorance. They are the only knowing men of Europe! Great general scholars, excellent physicians, Most admired statesmen, professed favorites 2. Modern language textbook, which sometimes included travelers’ tips. 3. Superficial accomplishments.

selling

Pap) 1. Italian was called the “cara lingua,” a phrase

Sir Pol translates.

MOVER OINEA 2 2

|

1019

And cabinet counselors? to the greatest princes! close advisers The only languaged° men of all the world! most eloquent PEREGRINE And I have heard they are most lewd° impostors, ignorant Made all of terms° and shreds, no less beliers

jargon

Of great men’s favors than their own vile med’cines, Which they will utter® upon monstrous oaths,

advertise for sale

Selling that drug for twopence ere they part Which they have valued at twelve crowns? before. 20

25

silver or gold coins

POLITIC Sir, calumnies are answered best with silence. Yourself shall judge. [to mosca and NANO] Who is it mounts, my friends? MOSCA Scoto of Mantua,? sir. POLITIC Is’t he? [to PEREGRINE] Nay, then,

I'll proudly promise, sir, you shall behold Another man than has been fancied? to you. I wonder yet that he should mount his bank Here in this nook, that has been wont t’appear In face of° the piazza! Here he comes.

presented in imagination

facing

[Enter] VOLPONE [disguised as a mountebank, followed

by] a crowd. VOLPONE

30

35

40

[to NANO|

Mount, zany.”

ever wont to fix my bank in face of the public piazza near the shelter of the portico to the procuratia,* should now, after eight months’ absence from this illustrious city of Venice, humbly retire myself into an obscure nook of the piazza. POLITIC [to PEREGRINE] PEREGRINE

50

clown; performer

[VOLPONE and NANO climb onto the platform.| CROWD Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow! POLITIC See how the people follow him! He’s a man May write ten thousand crowns in bank here. Note, Mark but his gesture. I do use® to observe make it my practice The state® he keeps, in getting up. stateliness PEREGRINE "Tis worth it, sir. VOLPONE Most noble gentlemen and my worthy patrons, it may seem strange that I, your Scoto Mantuano, who was

Did not I now object the same?° Peace, sir.

ask the same question

VOLPONE Let me tell you: I am not, as your Lombard proverb saith, cold on my feet,° or content to part with my commodities at a cheaper rate than I accustomed; look not for it. Nor that the calumnious reports of that impudent detrac-

in desperate straits

tor and shame to our profession (Alessandro Buttone,° I mean) who gave out in public | was condemned a

a rival mountebank

sforzato® to the galleys for poisoning the Cardinal Bembo’s—cook,? hath at all attached,° much less dejected

prisoner stuck to

me. No, no, worthy gentlemen. To tell you true, | cannot 2. An Italian juggler and magician who visited England and performed before Elizabeth I in the 1570s. 3. Arcade on the north side of the Piazza di San Marco.

4. Pietro Bembo (1470-1547) was a famous humanist, featured as a speaker in Castiglione’s Courtier (1528). “Cook” is a teasing substitution for “whore.”

1020

55

a Ko]

65

70

75

|

JONSON

endure to see the rabble of these ground ciarlitani,’ that spread their cloaks on the pavement as if they meant to do feats of activity? and then come in lamely with their acrobatics moldy tales out of Boccaccio, like stale Tabarine,° the fabulist: some of them discoursing their travels and of their tedious captivity in the Turks’ galleys, when indeed, were the truth known, they were the Christians’ galleys, where very temperately they ate bread and drunk water as a wholesome penance, enjoined them by their confessors, for base pilferies. POLITIC [to PEREGRINE] Note but his bearing and contempt of these. VOLPONE ‘These turdy-facy-nasty-paty-lousy-fartical rogues, with one poor groatsworth® of unprepared antimony,’ —fourpenceworth finely wrapped up in several scartoccios,° are able very well paper envelopes to kill their twenty a week, and play;° yet these meager as if agame starved spirits, who have half stopped the organs of their minds with earthy oppilations,°? want® not their favorers obstructions /lack among your shriveled, salad-eating artisans, who are overjoyed that they may have their ha’p’orth® of physic; though — halfpennyworth it purge ‘em into another world, ’t makes no matter. PoLitic Excellent! Ha’ you heard better language, sir? VOLPONE Well, let ‘em go.° And, gentlemen, honorable say no more gentlemen, know that for this time, our bank, being thus about them removed from the clamors of the canaglia,° shall be the mob scene of pleasure and delight. For I have nothing to sell, little or nothing to sell. POLitTic I told you, sir, his end. PEREGRINE

80

BEN

You did so, sir.

VOLPONE I protest, | and my six servants are not able to make of this precious liquor so fast as it is fetched away from my lodging by gentlemen of your city, strangers of the terra firma,* worshipful merchants, ay, and senators too, who ever since my arrival have detained me to their uses by their splendidous liberalities. And worthily. For what avails your rich man to have his magazines® stuffed with moscadelli,° or of° the purest grape, when his physicians prescribe him (on pain of death) to drink nothing but water cocted® with anise seeds? Oh, health, health! The blessing

90

storehouses wine / wine of boiled

of the rich! The riches of the poor! Who can buy thee at too dear a rate, since there is no enjoying this world without thee? Be not then so sparing of your purses, honorable gentlemen, as to abridge the natural course of life— PEREGRINE You see his end? POLITIC Ay, is’t not good?

5. Charlatans too poor to afford a “bank,” or platform. 6. Boccaccio’s Decameron is a storehouse of tales. Tabarine was a member of an Italian comic troupe

that played in France and perhaps in England. 7, White metal used as an emetic and a poison. 8. Mainland territory of Venice.

WV OUEP'OINIEN

VOLPONE

For when a humid flux® or catarrh, by the muta-

bility of air, falls from your head into an arm or shoulder

95

100

105

110

115

120

or any other part, take you a ducat or your cecchine of gold and apply to the place affected; see what good effect it can work. No, no, 'tis this blessed unguento,° this rare extraction, that hath only power to disperse all malignant humors that proceed either of hot, cold, moist, or windy causes’ — PEREGRINE I would he had put in “dry,” too. POLITIC Pray you, observe. VOLPONE To fortify the most indigest and crude® stomach, ay, were it of one that, through extreme weakness, vomited blood, applying only a warm napkin to the place after the unction and fricace;° for the vertigine® in the head putting but a drop into your nostrils, likewise behind the ears, a most sovereign® and approved remedy; the mal caduco, cramps, convulsions, paralyses, epilepsies, tremor cordia, retired nerves, ill vapors of the spleen, stoppings of the liver, the stone, the strangury, hernia ventosa, iliaca passio;, stops a dysenteria immediately; easeth the torsion of the small guts; and cures melancholia hypochondriaca,! being taken and applied according to my printed receipt.° (Pointing to his bill and his glass°). For this is the physician, this the medicine; this counsels, this cures; this gives the

2 2

|

1021

runny discharge

ointment

upset

massage / dizziness potent

direction

paper and flagon

direction, this works the effect; and in sum, both together

may be termed an abstract of the theoric and practic in the Aesculapian? art. "Twill cost you eight crowns. And, Zan Fritatta,’ pray thee sing a verse extempore in honor of it. POLITIC How do you like him, sir? PEREGRINE Most strangely, I! PoLitic Is not his language rare?° PEREGRINE But? alchemy I never heard the like, or Broughton’s books.*

unrivaled

except for

SONG

NANO [sings]

125

Had old Hippocrates or Galen,’ That to their books put med’cines all in, But known this secret, they had never (Of which they will be guilty ever) Been murderers of so much paper,°

9. Renaissance medicine was based on the theory of the humors, four bodily fluids whose balance within the body determined both physical and mental health. Their qualities, in various combi-

written so much

spasmodic bowel pain; and “melancholia hypochondriaca,” depression. 2. Medical. Aesculapius was the classical god of medicine.

nations, were hot, cold, moist, and dry; hence Per-

3. Italian dialect for “Jack Omelet,” the name of

egrine’s comment in the next line.

the zany (see line 28), here referring to Nano. 4. Hugh Broughton was a Puritan rabbinical scholar who wrote impenetrable treatises on scriptural matters.

1. Volpone’s list of diseases includes “mal caduco,” epilepsy; “tremor cordia,” palpitations; “retired nerves,” withered sinews; “ill vapors of the spleen,” short temper; “stone,” kidney stones; “strangury,” painful urination; “hernia ventosa,” a hernia containing air; “iliaca passio,” intestinal cramps;

“dysenteria,” diarrhea; “torsion of the small guts,”

5. Greek physicians (ca. 460-377 B.c.e. and 129—

ca. 199 c.£., respectively) who developed the theory of humors.

1022

|

BEN

JONSON

Or wasted many a hurtless taper;° No Indian drug had e’er been famed,

candle (working at night)

Tobacco, sassafras® not named, 130

140

150

Ne? yet of guacum’ one small stick, sir, Nor Raymond Lully’s great elixir. Ne had been known the Danish Gonswart Or Paracelsus with his long sword.® PEREGRINE All this yet will not do; eight crowns is high. No more.—Gentlemen, if I had but VOLPONE [to NANO] time to discourse to you the miraculous effects of this my oil, surnamed oglio del Scoto, with the countless catalogue of those I have cured of th’aforesaid and many more diseases, the patents and privileges of all the princes and commonwealths of Christendom, or but the depositions of those that appeared on my part before the signory of the Sanita,’ and most learned College of Physicians, where I was authorized, upon notice taken of the admirable virtues of my medicaments and mine own excellency in matter of rare and unknown secrets, not only to disperse them publicly in this famous city but in all the territories that happily joy under the government of the most pious and magnificent states of Italy. But may some other gallant fellow say, “Oh, there be divers that make profession° to have as good and as experimented receipts as yours.” Indeed, very many have assayed like apes in imitation of that which is really and essentially in me, to make of° this oil; bestowed

nor

that claim

some of

great cost in furnaces, stills, alembics,' continual fires, and

preparation of the ingredients (as indeed there goes to it six hundred several simples,° besides some quantity of human fat for the conglutination,? which we buy of the anatomists); but, when these practitioners come to the last

decoction,° blow, blow, puff, puff, and all flies in fumo.° Ha, ha, ha! Poor wretches! I rather pity their folly and indiscretion® than their loss of time and money; for those may be recovered by industry, but to be a fool born is a disease incurable. For myself, I always from my youth have endeavored to get the rarest secrets and book? them, either in exchange or for money; I spared nor® cost nor labor where anything was worthy to be learned. And, gentlemen,

160

165

different ingredients / to glue it together

boiling down / up in smoke lack of discernment

record neither

honorable gentlemen, | will undertake, by virtue of chemical art, out of the honorable hat that covers your head to extract the four elements—that is to say, the fire, air, water, 170

and earth—and return you your felt® without burn or stain.

felt hat

For, whilst others have been at the balloo® I have been at

Venetian ball

game

New World plants, used medicinally. . The bark ofa tropical tree, used medicinally.

6.

8 . Raymond Lully was a medieval astrologer rumored to have discovered the elixir of life. “Dan-

ish Gonswart” has not been positively identified.

Paracelsus was an early 16th-century alchemist who developed an alternative to Galenic medicine; he carried his medicines in his sword pommel. 9. Venetian medical licensing board. 1. Vessels for purifying liquids.

V@OEROINE

9252

|

1023

my book, and am now past the craggy paths of study and come to the flow’ry plains of honor and reputation. Potitic VOLPONE

180

190

I do assure you, sir, that is his aim. But to our price.

PEREGRINE And that withal,° Sir Pol. VOLPONE You all know, honorable gentlemen, I never valued this ampulla, or vial, at less than eight crowns, but for this time I am content to be deprived of it for six; six crowns is the price, and less, in courtesy, | know you cannot offer me. Take it or leave it howsoever, both it and I am at your service. I ask you not as the value of the thing, for then I should demand? of you a thousand crowns; so the Cardinals Montalto, Fernese, the great Duke of Tuscany, my gossip,° with divers other princes, have given me. But I despise money. Only to show my affection to you, honorable gentlemen, and your illustrious state here, I have neglected the messages of these princes, mine own offices,° framed° my journey hither only to present you with the fruits of my travels. [to NANO and Mosca] Tune your voices once more to the touch of your instruments, and give the honorable assembly some delightful recreation. PEREGRINE What monstrous and most painful circumstance®

as well

ask

buddy

duties

devised

beating around the bush

Is here, to get some three or four gazets!° Some threepence, i'th’whole, for that ’twill come to.

small Venetian coins

SONG

195

200

[During the song, CELIA appears at her window, above.| NANO [sings]° You that would last long, list to my song, accompanied Make no more coil,°? but buy of this oil. by Mosca / fuss

Would you be ever fair and young? Stout of teeth and strong of tongue? Tart°® of palate? Quick of ear? Sharp of sight? Of nostril clear? Moist of hand? and light of foot? Or (I will come nearer to’t)° Would you live free from all diseases,

Do the act your mistress pleases, Yet fright all aches° from your bones? Here’s a med’cine for the nones.° VOLPONE Well, lamina humor at this time to make a present of the small quantity my coffer contains: to the rich in courtesy, and to the poor for God’s sake.° Wherefore, now

keen

get to the point

venereal disease occasion

charity

mark; I asked you six crowns, and six crowns at other times you have paid me. You shall not give me six crowns, nor five, nor four, nor three, nor two, nor one, nor half a

ducat, no, nor a moccenigo.° Six—pence it will cost you, or 2. Associated with youth and sexual vigor.

worth ninepence

1024

i) iS)=)

BEN

JONSON

six hundred pound—expect no lower price, for by the banner of my front,° I will not bate a bagatine,? that I will displayed on my “bank” have only a pledge of your loves, to carry something from scorned amongst you to show I am not contemned? by you. Therefore now, toss your handkerchiefs cheerfully, cheerfully, notified and be advertised? that the first heroic spirit that deigns to grace me with a handkerchief, I will give it a little remembrance of something beside, shall please® it better than if I which will please had presented it with a double pistolet.* gallant PEREGRINE Will you be that heroic spark,° Sir Pol? CELIA at the window throws down her handkerchief [with a coin tied inside it].

Oh, see! The window has prevented you.° VOLPONE Lady, I kiss your bounty, and, for this timely grace you have done your poor Scoto of Mantua, | will return you, over and above my oil, a secret of that high and inestimable nature shall? make you forever enamored on that minute wherein your eye first descended on so mean,’ yet not altogether to be despised, an object. Here is a powder concealed in this paper of which, if I should speak to the worth, nine thousand volumes were but as one page, that page as a line, that line as a word—so short is this pilgrimage of man, which some call life, to° the expressing of it. i) Ww wi

beaten you to it

which will

lowly

compared to

Would I reflect on the price, why, the whole world were but as an empire, that empire as a province, that province as a

bank, that bank as a private purse, to the purchase of it. I will only tell you it is the powder that made Venus a goddess, given her by Apollo,’ that kept her perpetually young, 240

ine}aS wa

cleaked her wrinkles, firmed her gums, filled® her skin, colored her hair; from her derived to Helen, and at the sack of Troy unfortunately lost; till now in this our age it was as happily® recovered by a studious antiquary out of some

fortunately

ruins of Asia, who sent a moiety® of it to the court of France (but much sophisticated)® wherewith the ladies

adulterated

filled out

part

there now color their hair. The rest, at this present, remains

with me, extracted to a quintessence,° so that wherever it but touches, in youth it perpetually preserves, in age restores the complexion; seats your teeth, did° they dance like virginal jacks,° firm as a wall; makes them white as ivory that were black as—

refined concentrate

even if

SCENE 3. The scene continues.

[Enter] corvino. He beats away the mountebank, etc. CORVINO Spite o'the devil, and my shame! Come down here, Come down! No house but mine to make your scene?® Signor Flaminio, will you down, sir? Down! 3. I won't reduce the price by even a tiny coin. 4. Spanish gold coin worth about one English pound. 5. In his capacity as the god of health.

stage set

6. The virginal is a type of harpsichord; its “jacks” are quills that pluck strings when the keys are played, but the term was also sometimes used for the keys.

VONE RON

wT

What, is my wife your Franciscina, sir?! No windows on the whole piazza here To make your properties® but mine? But mine? Heart! Ere tomorrow I shall be new christened And called the pantalone di besogniosi2 About the town.

10

E24

|

1025

stage props

— [Exeunt VOLPONE, NANO, and MOSCA,

followed by corvino and the crowd.| What should this mean, Sir Pol? PEREGRINE POLITIC Some trick of state, believe it. I will home. PEREGRINF

It may be some design on you.

POLITIC

I know not.

I'll stand upon my guard. PEREGRINE

15

It is your best,° sir.

best course of action

Potitic This three weeks, all my advices, all my letters, They have been intercepted, PEREGRINE Indeed, sir? Best have a care. POLITIC Nay, so I will. [Exit.| PEREGRINE This knight, I may not lose him,° for my mirth, till night. [Exit.]

I won't leave him

SCENE 4. VOLPONE's house.

VOLPONE

[Enter] voLPONE [and] Mosca. Qh, I am wounded!

MOSCA

Where, sir?

VOLPONE Not without;° externally Those blows were nothing; I could bear them ever, But angry Cupid, bolting® from her? eyes, shooting darts /Celia’s an

10

Hath shot himself into me like a flame, Where now he flings about his burning heat, As in a furnace an ambitious? fire Whose vent is stopped. The fight is all within me. I cannot live except thou help me, Mosca; My liver! melts, and I, without the hope Of some soft air from her refreshing breath, Am but a heap of cinders. MOSCA ‘Las, good sir! Would you had never seen her. VOLPONE Nay, would thou Hadst never told me of her. MOSCA Sir, ‘tis true; I do confess I was unfortunate, And you unhappy; but I’m bound in conscience

rising

23 1. Corvino imagines the scene in terms of a stock

commedia dell’arte, a decrepit old man suspicious of his desirable young wife. Di besogniosi is his

episode from the Italian commedia

jocular surname, meaning “descended from poor

dell’arte, in

which the young lover, conventionally named Flaminio after the famous actor Flaminio Scala, seduces Franciscina, the easygoing serving wench. 2. The pantalone is another stock figure in the

people.” 2.4 1. Supposed to be the seat of lust.

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BEN

JONSON

No less than duty to effect my best To your release of torment, and | will, sir. VOLPONE Dear Mosca, shall I hope? MOSCA

Sir, more than dear,

I will not bid you to despair of aught Within a human

compass.°

that's humanly possible

VOLPONE Oh, there spoke My better angel. Mosca, take my keys. Gold, plate, and jewels, all’s at thy devotion;°

disposal

Employ them how thou wilt; nay, coin me too,’

So° thou in this but crown my longings. Mosca? mosca_ Use but your patience. tw an

VOLPONE MOSCA

provided that

So I have.? I doubt not

To bring success to your desires. VOLPONE

Nay, then,

I not repent me of my late disguise. mosca__

30

If you can horn him,? sir, you need not.

VOLPONE Besides, | never meant him for my heir. Is not the color o’my beard and eyebrows? To make me known? MOSCA

True;

No jot.

VOLPONE I did it well. Mosca So well, would I could follow you in mine With half the happiness!° And yet I would Escape your epilogue.° VOLPONE But were they gulled® With a belief that I was Scoto? MOSCA Sit, Scoto himself could hardly have distinguished! I have not time to flatter you now. We'll part, And, as I prosper, so applaud my art. [Exeunt.|

success the beating fooled

SCENE 5. CORVINO’s house. [Enter] corviNo [and] CELIA.

corVINO Death of mine honor, with the city’s fool? A juggling, tooth-drawing,' prating®? mountebank?

chattering

And at a public window? Where, whilst he

With his strained action® and his dole of faces?

overacting

To his drug lecture draws your itching ears, A crew of old, unmarried, noted lechers

Stood leering up like satyrs;° and you smile Most graciously! And fan your favors forth 2. Use my coins as well. (But also with the implication “make coins out of me,” i.e., “turn my body into money.”) 3. Punning on the original meaning of“patience,” “enduring blows. 4. Cuckold him. (The husbands of adulterous

lustful goat-men

wives were traditionally supposed to sprout horns.) 5. Red, because he is a fox. 2.5

1. Mountebanks, like barbers, performed dental

work,

2. Small repertory of facial expressions.

VOIP ONE

20

i) wi

To give your hot spectators satisfaction! What, was your mountebank their call? Their whistle? Or were you enamored on his copper rings? His saffron jewel with the toadstone?® in’t? Or his embroidered suit with the cope-stitch,° Made of a hearse-cloth? Or his old tilt-feather?4 Or his starched beard? Well! You shall have him, yes. He shall come home and minister unto you The fricace for the mother. Or, let me see, I think you'd rather mount?® Would you not mount? Why, if you'll mount, you may; yes truly, you may— And so you may be seen down to th’foot. Get you a cittern, Lady Vanity,’ And be a dealer with the virtuous man; Make one.* I'll but protest® myself a cuckold And save your dowry.’ I am a Dutchman, I! For if you thought me an Italian, You would be damned ere you did this, you whore.! Thou’dst tremble to imagine that the murder

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agatelike stone gaudy needlework

proclaim

Of father, mother, brother, all thy race,

30

Should follow as the subject of myjustice! CELIA Good sir, have patience! CORVINO [drawing a weapon| What couldst thou propose Less to thyself° than, in this heat of wrath as And stung with my dishonor, I should strike This steel unto thee, with as many stabs As thou wert gazed upon with goatish® eyes? CELIA Alas, sir, be appeased! I could not think My being at the window should more now

your punishment

lustful

Move your impatience than at other times.

40

No? Not to seek and entertain a parley® CORVINO With a known knave? Before a multitude? You were an actor with your handkerchief! Which he most sweetly kissed in the receipt,

have a conversation

And might, no doubt, return it with a letter,

And ’point the place where you might meet—your sister's, Your mother’s, or your aunt’s might serve the turn.° occasion; 45

CELIA.

sexual act

Why, dear sir, when do I make these excuses?

Or ever stir abroad but to the church? And that, so seldom— CORVINO Well, it shall be less;

And thy restraint before was liberty 3. Used to lure trained falcons. 4. The feather from a tilting (jousting) helmet. A hearse-cloth is a heavy cloth for draping over a coffin. 5. Womb massage; with obvious sexual innuendo.

7. Allegorical character of a morality play representing pride and worldly pleasure. A cittern is a guitarlike instrument that conventionally was played by whores.

“The mother” was a term for the uterus, but also for a variety of ailments, from cramps to depression, that were supposed to originate there.

9. The husbands of proven adultresses could divorce them and keep their dowry. 1. The Dutch were proverbially phlegmatic, in contrast to Italians, who were stereotypically impetuous and vengeful.

6. (1) Climb up on the mountebank’s stage yourself; (2) take the top sexual position.

8. Join up with him. (With sexual innuendo.)

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JONSON

To what I now decree: and therefore, mark me. 50

[Pointing to the window] First, I will have this bawdy light dammed up, And, till’t be done, some two or three yards off I'll chalk a line, o’er which if thou but chance To set thy desp’rate foot, more hell, more horror,

55

60

65

More wild, remorseless rage shall seize on thee Than on a conjurer that had heedless left His circle’s safety ere his devil was laid.? Then here’s a lock which I will hang upon thee. [He shows a chastity belt.| And now I think on'’t, I will keep thee backwards;+ Thy lodging shall be backwards, thy walks backwards, Thy prospect°—all be backwards; and no pleasure That thou shalt know but backwards. Nay, since you force My honest nature, know it is your own Being too open makes me use you thus, Since you will not contain your subtle® nostrils In a sweet® room, but they must snuff the air Of rank and sweaty passengers°— — Knock within. One knocks. Away, and be not seen, pain of thy life! Not look toward the window. If thou dost—

view (see n. 3)

delicate; crafty sweet-smelling passersby

[CELIA begins to exit.] 70

Nay stay, hear this—let me not prosper, whore, But I will make thee an anatomy,* Dissect thee mine own self, and read a lecture

Upon thee to the city, and in public. Away!

[Exit CELIA.]

Who's there? [Enter] Servitore [a SERVANT].

SERVANT

"Tis Signor Mosca, sir. SCENE 6. The scene continues.

CORVINO

Let him come in.

[Exit SERVANT.| His master’s dead! There’s yet Some good to help the bad. [Enter] MOSCA.

My Mosca, welcome! I guess your news.

MOSCA coRVINO MOSCA corvINo_ MOSCA

I fear you cannot, sir. Is't not his death? Rather the contrary. Not his recovery? Yes, sir.

CORVINO 2. Conjurers protected themselves from the deyils who served them by staying inside a magical circle. 3. In the back part of the house, lacking a view out onto the piazza; but with the suggestion of

I am cursed, anal intercourse, supposedly favored by Italians. 4. Use you for anatomical research. (In the early modern period, physicians obtained the bodies of executed criminals upon which to perform dissections, often before large crowds.)

VOLPONE

2.6

I am bewitched! My crosses°® meet to vex me! How? How? How? How? MOSCA

|

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misfortunes

Why, sir, with Scoto’s oil.

Corbaccio and Voltore brought of it Whilst I was busy in an inner room— corvINO Death! That damned mountebank! But for the law, Now, I could kill the rascal. "T cannot be

His oil should have that virtue. Ha’ not I Known him a common rogue, come fiddling in To thosteria° with a tumbling whore,

And, when he has done all his forced tricks, been glad Of a poor spoonful of dead wine with flies in’t? It cannot be. All his ingredients Are a sheep’s gall, a roasted bitch’s marrow, Some few sod° earwigs, pounded caterpillars, A little capon’s grease, and fasting spittle:! I know ’em to a dram.°

MOSCA

tavern (Italian)

boiled tiny amount

I know not, sir,

But some on't there they poured into his ears, Some in his nostrils, and recovered him,

Applying but the fricace.° CORVINO MOSCA

massage Pox o’that fricace!

And since, to seem the more officious®

zealous

And flatt’ring of his health, there they have had— At extreme fees—the College of Physicians Consulting on him how they might restore him; Where one would have a cataplasm? of spices, Another a flayed ape clapped to his breast, A third would ha’ it a dog, a fourth an oil With wildcats’ skins. At last, they all resolved That to preserve him was no other means But some young woman must be straight sought out, Lusty and full of juice, to sleep by him; And to this service—most unhappily And most unwillingly—am I now employed, Which here I thought to preacquaint you with, For your advice, since it concerns you most,

Because I would not do that thing might cross Your ends,* on whom I have my whole dependence, sir. Yet if I do it not, they may delate* My slackness to my patron, work me out Of his opinion;° and there all your hopes, Ventures, or whatsoever, are all frustrate. I do but tell you, sir. Besides, they are all

D6

1. Saliva of a fasting person. afford anything to eat.)

favor

young woman prescribed for Volpone in lines 34—

(Scoto

cannot

2. Poultice. (The substances described in the following lines were believed to work by absorbing the patient’s infection, which bodes ill for the

35.) 3. Do anything that might frustrate your purposes. 4. Report. (A legal term for making an accusation.)

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BEN

Now striving who shall first present him. Therefore, I could entreat you briefly, conclude somewhat;° Prevent ‘em if you can. CORVINO Death to my hopes! This is my villainous fortune! Best to hire Some common courtesan. MOSCA

55

JONSON

decide something

Ay, I thought on that, sir.

But they And age So as—I Light on CORVINO

are all so subtle,° full of art,° again® doting and flexible, cannot tell—we may perchance a quean® may cheat us all. "Tis true.

cunning / deceit old people moreover whore (who)

Mosca _ No, no; it must be one that has no tricks, sir,

Some simple thing, a creature made unto? it; suited to; forced into Some wench you may command. Ha’ you no kinswoman? Godso°—think, think, think, think, think, think, think, sir. 60

an oath

One o'the doctors offered there his daughter. coRVINO How! MOSCA Yes, Signor Lupo,° the physician. Wolf (Italian) CORVINO His daughter? moscA_ And a virgin, sir. Why, alas, He knows the state of’s body, what it is, That naught can warm his blood, sir, but a fever,

65

Nor any incantation raise his spirit.° A long forgetfulness hath seized that part.°

vigor; semen his penis

Besides, sir, who shall know it? Some one or two—

coRVINO I pray thee give me leave.° [He walks apart.| If any man But I had had this luck—The thing in ’tself, 70

give me a minute

I know, is nothing —Wherefore should not I

As well command my blood and my affections As this dull doctor? In the point of honor The cases are all one, of wife and daughter. MOSCA

[aside]

I hear him coming.°

coming around

She shall do’t. "Tis done.

CORVINO [aside]

Slight,” if this doctor, who is not engaged,

by God's light (an oath)

Unless ’t be for his counsel (which is nothing),°

Offer his daughter, what should I, that am So deeply in? I will prevent him. Wretch! Covetous wretch!—Mosca, I have determined. MosCcA_ How, sir? 80

CORVINO

We'll make all sure. The party you wot° of

know

Shall be mine own wife, Mosca.

Sir, the thing MOSCA (But that I would not seem to counsel you) I should have motioned? to you at the first. And, make your count,° you have cut all their throats.

proposed rest assured

5. Who is not financially involved, except for whatever slight fee he could expect for his advice.

MOI

POINE

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Why, ‘tis directly taking a possession!® And in his next fit we may let him go. "Tis but to pull the pillow from his head

85

And he is throttled; ’t had been done before,

But for your scrupulous doubts. CORVINO Ay, a plague on’t! My conscience fools my wit.° Well, I'll be brief,

90

common sense

And so be thou, lest they should be before us. Go home, prepare him, tell him with what zeal And willingness I do it; swear it was On the first hearing (as thou mayst do, truly) Mine own free motion.° 95

MOSCA

initiative

Sir, | warrant you,

I'll so possess® him with it that the rest

impress

Of his starved clients shall be banished all,

100

And only you received. Until I send, for I have To ripen for your good; CORVINO But do not you MOSCA

But come not, sir, something else you must not know't. forget to send, now. Fear not. [Exit.]

SCENE 7. The scene continues.

CORVINO

Where are you, wife? My Celia? Wife? [Enter] CELIA [weeping.]

What, blubbering? Come, dry those tears. I think thou thought’st me in earnest? Ha! By this light, I talked so but to try° thee. test Methinks the lightness° of the occasion t riviality Should ha’ confirmed thee.! Come, I am not jealous. CELIA No? CORVINO

Faith, I am not, I, nor never? was;

It is a poor, unprofitable humor. Do not I know if women have a will They'll do ’gainst all the watches?® o’the world? And that the fiercest spies are tamed with gold?

despite the vigilance

Tut, I am confident in thee, thou shalt see’t;

And see, I'll give thee cause too, to believe it. Come, kiss me. Go and make thee ready straight In all thy best attire, thy choicest jewels; Put ’em all on, and, with ’em thy best looks.

We are invited to a solemn feast At old Volpone’s, where it shall appear How far I am free from jealousy or fear.

6. A legal term for the heir’s formal assumption of inherited property. 2.7

1. Convinced you that I was not serious.

[Exeunt. |

2. Double negatives are grammatical bean English.

in Jaco-

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JONSON

Act 3

SCENE 1. The piazza. [Enter] MOSCA.

wi

10

mosca I fear I shall begin to grow in love With my dear self and my most prosp’rous parts, {e) They do so spring and burgeon.° I can feel A whimsy? i’my blood. I know not how, Success hath made me wanton. I could skip Out of my skin now like a subtle snake, I am so limber. Oh, your parasite Is a most precious thing, dropped from above,° Not bred ‘mongst clods and clodpolls here on earth. I muse

talents

swell; thrive giddiness

sent from heaven

the mystery was not made a science,

It is so liberally professed!' Almost All the wise world is little else in nature But parasites or subparasites. And yet I mean not those that have your bare town-art,? 15

To know who’s fit to feed ‘em; have no house,

No family, no care, and therefore mold Tales for men’s ears,° to bait® that sense; or get

tell juicy rumors / entice

Kitchen-invention, and some stale receipts® To please the belly and the groin;° nor those,

20

With their court-dog tricks, that can fawn and fleer,° Make their revenue out of legs and faces,

recipes

as aphrodisiacs

smile insincerely

Echo my lord, and lick away a moth;? But your fine, elegant rascal, that can rise And stoop almost together, like an arrow,

25

Shoot through the air as nimbly as a star,°

meteor

Turn short as doth a swallow, and be here

30

And there and here and yonder all at once, Present to any humor, all occasion,* And change a visor® swifter than a thought! This is the creature had the art born with him ’ Toils not to learn it, but doth practice it Out of most excellent nature, and such sparks Are the true parasites, others but their zanies.°

mask; expression

clownish imitators

SCENE 2. The scene continues. [Enter] BONARIO. [Aside] Who’s this? Bonario? Old Corbaccio’s son?

The person I was bound? to seek.—Fair sir, You are happ’ly met.

on my way

b)

Sal ; 1. I wonder why the craft was not made a subject for academic study, it is so frequently practiced! (Punning on the “liberal professions.”)

2. Crude skills of ingratiation, for getting free meals in taverns.

sufficient only

3. Make a living from bows and sycophantic looks, repeat anything a nobleman says, and fawn over him, fussing over every detail of his appearance.

4. Ready to respond to any mood or opportunity.

VOIEPO

NES?2

|

LOSS

BONARIO That cannot be by thee. Why, sir? Mosca BONARIO Nay, pray thee know thy way and leave me. I would be loath to interchange discourse With such a mate? as thou art. Courteous sir, MOSCA

fellow (contemptuous)

Scorn not my poverty. Not I, by heaven, BONARIO But thou shalt give me leave to hate thy baseness. MOSCA _Baseness? BONARIO Ay. Answer me, is not thy sloth Sufficient argument? Thy flattery? Thy means of feeding? MOSCA Heaven, be good to me! These imputations are too common, sir,

And eas'ly stuck on virtue when she’s poor. You are unequal? to me, and howe’er

superior; unfair

Your sentence® may be righteous, yet you are not, That, ere you know me, thus proceed in censure. Saint Mark bear witness ’gainst you, ’tis inhuman.

20

25

verdict [He weeps.]

BONARIO [aside] What? Does he weep? The sign is soft and good. I do repent me that I was so harsh. Mosca "Tis true that, swayed by strong necessity, I am enforced to eat my careful bread With too much obsequy;? ’tis true, beside, obsequiousness That I am fain® to spin mine own poor raiment obliged Out of my mere observance,’ being not born deferential service To a free fortune. But that I have done Base offices in rending friends asunder, Dividing families, betraying counsels, Whispering false lies, or mining? men with praises, undermining Trained? their credulity with perjuries, lured on Corrupted chastity, or am in love

30

With mine own tender ease, but would not rather

Prove® the most rugged and laborious course That might redeem my present estimation,! Let me here perish in all hope of goodness. 35

40

BONARIO [aside]

This cannot be a personated passion!—

I was to blame, so to mistake thy nature; Pray thee forgive me, and speak out thy business. Mosca _ Sir, it concerns you; and though I may seem At first to make a main® offense in manners And in my gratitude unto my master, Yet for the pure love which I bear all right And hatred of the wrong, I must reveal it. This very hour your father is in purpose To disinherit you— BONARIO How! 3.2

undergo

1. That might improve your current appraisal of me.

great

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BEN

JONSON

MOSCA And thrust you forth As a mere stranger to his blood. ’Tis true, sir. The work no way engageth® me but as concerns I claim an interest in the general state Of goodness and true virtue, which I hear T’abound in you, and for which mere respect,° for which reason alone Without a second aim, sir, I have done it. BONARIO. This tale hath lost thee much of the late® trust recent Thou hadst with me. It is impossible. I know not how to lend it any thought? believe that My father should be so unnatural. Mosca _ It is a confidence that well becomes Your piety;° and formed, no doubt, it is filial loyalty From your own simple innocence, which makes Your wrong more monstrous and abhorred. But, sir,

60

65

I now will tell you more. This very minute It is or will be doing; and if you Shall be but pleased to go with me, I'll bring you, I dare not say where you shall see, but where Your ear shall be a witness of the deed: Hear yourself written bastard, and professed The common issue of the earth.? BONARIO I’m mazed! mosca__

Sir, ifIdo it not, draw your just sword

And score your vengeance on my front® and face; Mark me your villain. You have too much wrong, And I do suffer for you, sir. My heart Weeps blood in anguish— BONARIO

Lead. I follow thee.

brow

[Exeunt.]

SCENE 3. VOLPONE'’s house. [Enter] VOLPONE, NANO, ANDROGYNO,

[and] CASTRONE.

VOLPONE Mosca stays long, methinks. Bring forth your sports And help to make the wretched time more sweet. NANO

Dwarf, fool, and eunuch, well met here we be.

A question it were now, whether® of us three, Being all the known delicates® of a rich man, In pleasing him, claim the precedency can? CASTRONE I claim for myself.

ANDROGYNO

And so doth the fool.

NANO ’Tis foolish indeed; let me set you both to school. First, for your dwarf: he’s little and witty, And everything, as it is little, is pretty; Else why do men say to a creature of my shape, So soon as they see him, “It’s a pretty little ape”? And why a pretty ape? But for pleasing imitation Of greater men’s action in a ridiculous fashion. 2. A bastard was called filius terrae, “son of the earth.”

which playthings

VOLPONE

3.4

Beside, this feat° body of mine doth not crave

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1035

neat, trim

Half the meat, drink, and cloth one of your bulks will have. Admit your fool’s face be the mother of laughter, Yet for his brain, it must always come after;° be lesser And though that do feed him,’ it’s a pitiful case,! earns his keep His body is beholding® to such a bad face. One knocks. beholden

20

VOLPONE Who's there? My couch. [He lies down.] Away, look, Nano, see! Give me my caps, first—go, inquire. [Exeunt NANO, ANDROGYNO, and CASTRONE.| Now, Cupid grant / good results Send? it be Mosca, and with fair return!° [Enter NANO.| NANO It is the beauteous Madam—

VOLPONE The same NANO 25

Would-be—is it?

Now, torment on me! Squire her in, VOLPONE For she will enter or dwell here forever.

Nay, quickly, that my fit were past!

[Exit NANO.] I fear A second hell, too, that my loathing this Will quite expel my appetite to the other.° Would she were taking, now, her tedious leave.

30

Celia

Lord, how it threats me what I am to suffer! SCENE 4. The scene continues. [Enter] LADY [WOULD-BE and] NANO.

LADY WOULD-BE [to NANO] [| thank you, good sir. Pray you signify Unto your patron I am here.’ [regarding herself in a mirror] This band° Shows not my neck enough. I trouble you, sir. Let me request you, bid one of my women Come hither to me.

[Exit NANO.|

In good faith, I am dressed Most favorably today!° It is no matter; "Tis well enough.

wi

ruff

sarcastic

[Enter NANO and FIRST] WOMAN.

Look, see, these petulant things!° How they have done this!

her women; her curls

VOLPONE [aside] I do feel the fever Ent’ring in at mine ears. Oh, for a charm

To fright it hence! LADY WOULD-BE [to FIRST WOMAN]

Come nearer. Is this curl

In his® right place? Or this? Why is this higher Than all the rest? You ha’ not washed your eyes yet?

its

33

lowing scene is adapted from Libanius of Antioch’s

1. With a pun on “container.” 3.4

On Talkative Women.

1. Much of Lady Would-be’s dialogue in the fol-

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JONSON

level

Or do they not stand even? i’your head? [Exit FIRST WOMAN.| Where's your fellow? Call her. NANO [aside] Now Saint Mark

Deliver us! Anon she'll beat her women Because her nose is red. [Enter FIRST and SECOND WOMEN. |

LADY WOULD-BE I pray you, view This tire,° forsooth. Are all things apt or no? SECOND WOMAN. One hair a little here sticks out, forsooth. LADY WOULD-BE Does ’t so, forsooth? [to FIRST WOMAN] And where was your dear sight 20

When it did so, forsooth? What now? Bird-eyed?°

headdress

startled (?); asquint (?)

[to SECOND WOMAN] And you, too? Pray you both approach and mend it. [They tend to her.| Now, by that light,° I muse you're not ashamed!

i) Uw

NANO (aside)

30

35

i.e., by heaven

I, that have preached these things so oft unto you, Read you the principles, argued all the grounds, Disputed every fitness, every grace, Called you to counsel of so frequent dressings— More carefully than of your fame® or honor.

LADY WOULD-BE Made you acquainted what an ample dowry The knowledge of these things would be unto you, Able alone to get you noble husbands At your return, and you thus to neglect it? Besides, you seeing what a curious® nation Th’Italians are, what will they say of me? “The English lady cannot dress herself.” Here’s a fine imputation to our country! Well, go your ways, and stay i’'the next room.

reputation

to England fastidious

This fucus® was too coarse, too; it’s no matter.

[to NANO] Good sir, you'll give ’em entertainment?° [Exeunt NANO and WOMEN.| VOLPONE [aside] The storm comes toward me. 40

makeup

look after them

How does my Volp? LADY WOULD-BE [approaching the bed| VOLPONE ‘Troubled with noise. | cannot sleep; I dreamt That a strange Fury entered now my house, And with the dreadful tempest of her breath Did cleave my roof asunder. LADY WOULD-BE Believe me, and I Had the most fearful dream, could I remember’t—

45

VOLPONE [aside]

Out on° my fate! I ha’ giv’n her the occasion

—_—_curses on

How to torment me: she will tell me hers.

50

LADY WOULD-BE_ Methought the golden mediocrity,° Polite and delicate— VOLPONE Oh, if you do love me, No more! I sweat and suffer at the mention Of any dream. Feel how I tremble yet. LADY WOULD-BE_ Alas, good soul! The passion of the heart.° Seed pearl were good now, boiled with syrup of apples,

golden mean

heartburn

VOLPONE

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60

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1037

Tincture of gold and coral, citron pills, Your elecampane® root, myrobalans?— perennial herb VOLPONE [aside] Ay me, I have ta’en a grasshopper by the wing! LADY WOULD-BE Burnt silk and amber; you have muscadel Good i’the house— VOLPONE You will not drink and part? LADY WOULD-BE No, fear not that. I doubt we shall not get Some English saffron—half a dram would serve— Your sixteen cloves, a little musk, dried mints,

Bugloss,° and barley-meal— VOLPONE [aside]

an herb She’s in again.

Before I feigned diseases; now I have one. LADY WOULD-BE_ And these applied with a right scarlet cloth—

65

VOLPONE [aside]

Another flood of words! A very torrent!

LADY WOULD-BE

Shall I, sir, make you a poultice?

VOLPONE

No, no, no.

I’m very well; you need prescribe no more. LADY WOULD-BE_ I have a little studied physic, but now I’m all for music, save i’the forenoons 70

An hour or two for painting. I would have A lady indeed t’ have all letters and arts, Be able to discourse, to write, to paint, But principal, as Plato holds,° your music

in The Republic

(And so does wise Pythagoras, I take it) Is your true rapture, when there is concent®

harmony

In face, in voice, and clothes, and is indeed

Our sex’s chiefest ornament. VOLPONE

The poet°®

Sophocles, in Ajax

As old in time as Plato, and as knowing,

Says that your highest female grace is silence. LADY WOULD-BE_ Which o’ your poets? Petrarch? Or Tasso? Or Dante? 80

Guarini? Ariosto? Aretine? Cieco di Hadria?? I have read them all.

VOLPONE [aside]

Is everything a cause to my destruction?

LADY WOULD-BE [searching her garments| 1 think I ha’ two or three of ‘em about me. VOLPONE [aside] The sun, the sea will sooner both stand still 85

Than her eternal tongue! Nothing can scape it. LADY WOULD-BE __Here’s Pastor Fido*— VOLPONE [aside] Profess obstinate silence, That’s now my safest. LADY WOULD-BE

90

All our English writers,

I mean such as are happy in th'Italian, Will deign to steal out of this author mainly, Almost as much as from Montaignié° He has so modern and facile® a vein, 2. Dried tropical fruits. 3. Lady Would-be juxtaposes major Italian writers with the minor di Hadria and the obscene

Aretino (see p. 1038, n. 6). 4. A pastoral by Giovanni into English in 1602.

French essayist graceful

Guarini,

translated

1038

95

|

BEN

JONSON

Fitting the time, and catching the court ear. Your Petrarch is more passionate, yet he, In days of sonneting, trusted ‘em with much.’ Dante is hard, and few can understand him. But for a desperate® wit, there’s Aretine!

100

outrageous

Only his pictures are a little obscene°— You mark me not? VOLPONE Alas, my mind’s perturbed. LADY WOULD-BE_ Why, in such cases we must cure ourselves, Make use of our philosophy— VOLPONE Ay me! LADY WOULD-BE_ And, as we find our passions do rebel, Encounter ’em with reason, or divert ’em

105

110

By giving scope unto some other humor Of lesser danger—as in politic bodies° There’s nothing more doth overwhelm the judgment And clouds the understanding than too much Settling and fixing and (as ’twere) subsiding® Upon one object. For the incorporating Of these same outward things into that part Which we call mental leaves some certain feces® That stop the organs and, as Plato says, Assassinates our knowledge. VOLPONE [aside] Now, the spirit Of patience help me! LADY WOULD-BE

115

120

political councils

alchemical jargon

dregs

Come, in faith, I must

Visit you more o’days and make you well. Laugh and be lusty.° VOLPONE [aside] My good angel save me! LADY WOULD-BE_ There was but one sole man in all the world With whom I e’er could sympathize, and he Would lie you® often three, four hours together To hear me speak, and be sometime so rapt As he would answer me quite from the purpose, Like you—and you are like him, just. I’ll discourse— An't® be but only, sir, to bring you asleep— How we did spend our time and loves together

merry

lie

if it

For some six years. VOLPONE Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!

125

LADY WOULD-BE_

For we were coaetani° and brought up—

VOLPONE [aside]

Some power, some fate, some fortune rescue me!

the same age

SCENE 5. The scene continues.

[Enter] Mosca.

MOSCA

God save you, madam.

LADY WOULD-BE

Good sir.

5. When sonnet writing was popular, gave poets plenty to imitate. 6. The libertine poems

of Aretine (Pietro Aret-

ino 1492-1556) were published with graphic illustrations by Giulio Romano.

porno-

VOUPROINEV3S25

VOLPONE [aside to Mosca]

|

1039

Mosca? Welcome,

Welcome to my redemption. MOSCA [to VOLPONE] VOLPONE [aside to MOSCca|

Why, sir?

Oh,

Rid me of this my torture quickly, there, My madam with the everlasting voice! The bells in time of pestilence ne’er made Like noise, or were in that perpetual motion;! The cockpit® comes not near it. All my house But now steamed like a bath with her thick breath. A lawyer could not have been heard, nor scarce Another woman, such a hail of words

cockfighting arena

She has let fall. For hell’s sake, rid her hence.

MOSCA [aside to VOLPONE| Has she presented?° given a gift VOLPONE [aside to MOSCA| Oh, I do not care. I'll take her absence upon any price, With any loss.

MOSCA Madam— LADY WOULD-BE I ha’ brought your patron A toy,° a cap here, of mine own work— MosCa [taking it from her] "Tis well. I had forgot to tell you, I saw your knight Where you'd little think it— LADY WOULD-BE Where?

20

25

trifle; embroidered piece

MOSCA Marry, Where yet, if you make haste, you may apprehend him, Rowing upon the water in a gondole With the most cunning courtesan of Venice.

LADY WOULD-BE __Is’t true? MOSCA Pursue ’em, and believe your eyes. Leave me to make your gift. [Exit LADY WOULD-BE.| I knew ’twould take.° For lightly,° they that use themselves most license Are still° most jealous. VOLPONE Mosca, hearty thanks For thy quick fiction and delivery of me. Now, to my hopes, what say’st thou?

do the trick commonly always

[Enter LADY WOULD-BE.|

LADY WOULD-BE But do you hear, sir? VOLPONE [aside] Again! I fear a paroxysm.° LADY WOULD-BE Which way Rowed they together? MOSCA

Toward the Rialto.°

relapse

commercial district

LADY WOULD-BE I pray you, lend me your dwarf. MOSCA I pray you, take him. [Exit LADY WOULD-BE.|

3.5

*

1. Church bells marked the deaths of parishioners; in times of plague they therefore rang almost constantly.

1040

30

35

|

BEN

JONSON

Your hopes, sir, are like happy blossoms: fair, And promise timely fruit if you will stay But the maturing. Keep you at your couch. Corbaccio will arrive straight with the will; When he is gone I'll tell you more. [Exit.] VOLPONE My blood, My spirits are returned. I am alive; And like your wanton® gamester at primero,” Whose thought had whispered to him, not go° less,

reckless; lustful don't gamble

Methinks I lie, and draw—for an encounter.’

[He gets into bed and closes the bed curtains.| SCENE 6. The scene continues. [Enter] Mosca [and] BONARIO. [MOSCA shows BONARIO

to a hiding place.| mosca_ Sir, here concealed you may hear all. But pray you Have patience, sir. [One knocks.| The same’s your father knocks. I am compelled to leave you. BONARIO Do so. Yet Cannot my thought imagine this a truth. [He conceals himself.| SCENE 7. The scene continues. [Enter] corvino [and] CELIA. Mosca [crosses the stage

vi

to intercept them]. Mosca Death on me! You are come too soon. What meant you? Did not I say I would send? CORVINO Yes, but I feared You might forget it, and then they prevent us. MoSCA [aside] Prevent? Did e’er man haste so for his horns?° —cuckold’s horns A courtier would not ply it so for a place.! [to CORVINO] Well, now there’s no helping it, stay here; I'll presently return. [He crosses the stage to BONARIO.| CORVINO Where are you, Celia? You know not wherefore I have brought you hither? CELIA Not well, except you told me. CORVINO Now I will.

Hark hither. [corvino and ce xia talk apart. 10

MOSCA (to BONARIO)

Sir, your father hath sent word

It will be half an hour ere he come;

And therefore, if you please to walk the while Into that gallery, at the upper end There are some books to entertain the time;

15

And I'll take care no man shall come unto you, sir. BONARIO

Yes, I will stay there. [aside] I do doubt this fellow. [He retires.|]

2. Acard game. 3. (1) Winning play in primero; (2) sexual act.

of 1. Work so hard for a position at court.

ViOiEROINIENS

mosca There, he is far enough; he can hear nothing. And for? his father, I can keep him off.

7

|

1041

as for

[MOSCA joins VOLPONE and opens his bed curtains.| CORVINO [to CELIA] Nay, now, there is no starting back, and therefore 20

Resolve upon it; It must be done. Because I would That might deny CELIA

25

I have so decreed. Nor would I move't® afore, avoid all shifts® and tricks

suggest it evasions

me. Sir, let me beseech you,

Affect® not these strange trials. If you doubt My chastity, why, lock me up forever; Make me the heir of darkness. Let me live Where I may please® your fears, if not your trust.

undertake satisfy

CORVINO Believe it, I have no such humor, I. All that I speak, I mean; yet I am not mad, 30

Not horn-mad,° see you? Go to, show yourself

crazy with jealousy

Obedient, and a wife.

CELIA O heaven! CORVINO I say it, Do so. CELIA Was this the train?° CORVINO I have told you reasons: What the physicians have set down; how much

scheme

It may concern me; what my engagements are; 35

My means, and the necessity of those means For my recovery. Wherefore, if you be Loyal and mine, be won, respect my venture.° CELIA Before your honor? CORVINO

40

45

50

Honor? Tut, a breath.

There’s no such thing in nature; a mere term Invented to awe fools. What is my gold The worse for touching? Clothes for being looked on? Why, this’s no more. An old, decrepit wretch, That has no sense,° no sinew; takes his meat With others’ fingers; only knows to gape When you do scald his gums; a voice, a shadow. And what can this man hurt you? CELIA Lord! What spirit Is this hath entered him? CORVINO

support my endeavor

And for your fame,°

sensory perception

reputation

That’s such a jig;° as if Iwould go tell it, joke Cry? it on the piazza! Who shall know it advertise But he that cannot speak it,° and this fellow°® Volpone / Mosca Whose lips are i’my pocket, save yourself? If you'll proclaim’t, you may. I know no other Should come to know it. Are heaven and saints then nothing? CELIA Will they be blind or stupid? CORVINO

CELIA

what's this?

How?°

Good sir,

1042

wi wi)

60

|

BEN

JONSON

Be jealous still, emulate them, and think What hate they burn with toward every sin. cORVINO I grant you, if Ithought it were a sin I would not urge you. Should I offer this To some young Frenchman, or hot Tuscan blood That had read Aretine, conned? all his prints,

Knew every quirk within lust’s labyrinth, And were professed critic® in lechery, And I would look upon him and applaud him, This were a sin. But here ’tis contrary, A pious work, mere charity, for physic, And honest polity°® to assure mine own. CELIA. O heaven! Canst thou suffer such a change? VOLPONE [aside to Mosca]

learned by heart

connoisseur

prudence

Thou art mine honor, Mosca, and my pride,

My joy, my tickling, my delight! Go, bring ‘em. MOSCA [to CORVINO] 70

15)

Please you draw near, sir.

CORVINO [dragging CELIA toward VOLPONE]| Come on, what— You will not be rebellious? By that light— MOSCA [to VOLPONE] Sir, Signor Corvino here is come to see you. VOLPONE Oh! MOSCA And, hearing of the consultation had So lately for your health, is come to offer, Or rather, sir, to prostitute— CORVINO Thanks, sweet Mosca.

Mosca Freely, unasked or unentreated— CORVINO Well. Mosca

As the true, fervent instance of his love,

His own most fair and proper wife, the beauty Only of price® in Venice—

beyond comparison

85

CORVINO "Tis well urged. Mosca _ To be your comfortress and to preserve you. VOLPONE Alas, I am past already! Pray you, thank him For his good care and promptness. But for® that, ‘Tis a vain labor e’en to fight ’gainst heaven, Applying fire to a stone (uh! uh! uh! uh!), Making a dead leaf grow again. I take His wishes gently, though; and you may tell him What I have done for him. Marry, my state is hopeless! Will him to pray for me, and t’ use his fortune With reverence when he comes to't. MOSCA [to CORVINO] Do you hear, sir? Go to him with your wife.

90

CORVINO [to CELIA]

80

Heart of my father!°

as for

an oath

Wilt thou persist thus? Come, I pray thee, come. Thou see’st ‘tis nothing. [He threatens to strike her.| Celia! By this hand,

I shall grow violent. Come, do’, I say.

CELIA 95

Sir, kill me, rather. I will take down poison,

Eat burning coals, do anything— CORVINO Be damned! Heart! I will drag thee hence, home, by the hair,

VOIP

OINIE

327

|

1043

Cry thee a strumpet through the streets, rip up Thy mouth unto thine ears, and slit thy nose Like a raw rochet!°—Do 100

105

110

not tempt me. Come,

Yield! I am loath—Death!° I will buy some slave

afish, the red gurnard

God's death! (an oath)

Whom I will kill,? and bind thee to him alive, And at my window hang you forth, devising Some monstrous crime, which I in capital letters Will eat into thy flesh with aquafortis® And burning cor’sives® on this stubborn breast. Now, by the blood thou hast incensed, I'll do't. CELIA Sir, what you please, you may; I am your martyr. CORVINO Be not thus obstinate. I ha’ not deserved it. Think who it is entreats you. Pray thee, sweet! Good faith, thou shalt have jewels, gowns, attires, What? thou wilt think and ask. Do but go kiss him. Or touch him but. For my sake. At my suit. This once. No? Not? I shall remember this. Will you disgrace me thus? Do you thirst my undoing? mosca_ Nay, gentle lady, be advised.

nitric acid corrosives

whatever

CORVINO No, no. She has watched her time.* God’s precious,’ this is scurvy;

"Tis very scurvy, and you are— MOSCA Nay, good, sir. coRVINO An arrant locust,’ by heaven, a locust. Whore, Crocodile,’ that hast thy tears prepared, Expecting® 120

how thou’lt bid ‘em flow!

MOSCA She will consider.

destroyer anticipating

Nay, pray you, sir,

CELIA Would my life would serve To satisfy— CORVINO ’Sdeath, if she would but speak to him And save my reputation, ‘twere somewhat—

But spitefully to effect my utter ruin! MOSCA Ay, now you've put your fortune in her hands. Why, i’faith, it is her modesty; I must quit® her. If you were absent she would be more coming,°

absolve compliant

I know it, and dare undertake for her.

130

What woman can before her husband? Pray you, Let us depart and leave her here. CORVINO Sweet Celia, Thou mayst redeem all yet; P’Il say no more. If not, esteem yourself as lost.—Nay, stay there. [Exeunt CorRVINO and MoSCA.|

CELIA.

O God and his good angels! Whither, whither

Is shame fled human breasts, that with such ease 2. In the following lines, Corvino elaborates luridly upon the fate that the notorious rapist Tarquin promised the chaste Roman matron Lucretia if she did not capitulate; unlike Celia, Lucretia yielded to threats.

3. Waited for her chance (to ruin me). 4. God's precious blood. (An oath.) 5. Which was supposed to weep while preying upon its victims.

1044

140

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BEN

JONSON

Men dare put off your? honors and their own? Is that which ever was a cause of life® Now placed beneath the basest circumstance,° And modesty an exile made for money? He |voLpone] leaps off from his couch. VOLPONE Ay, in Corvino, and such earth-fed minds That never tasted the true heav’n of love.

God's and the angels’ sex and wedlock lowest of concerns

Assure thee, Celia, he that would sell thee

Only for hope of gain, and that uncertain, He would have sold his part of paradise For ready money, had he met a copeman.° Why art thou mazed to see me thus revived? Rather applaud thy beauty’s miracle; "Tis thy great work, that hath, not now alone® But sundry times raised me in several shapes, And but this morning like a mountebank To see thee at thy window. Ay, before | would have left my practice® for thy love, In varying figures | would have contended With the blue Proteus or the hornéd flood.°

buyer

not only just now

scheming

Now art thou welcome. CELIA Sir!

VOLPONE Nay, fly me not, Nor let thy false imagination That I was bedrid make thee think I am so. Thou shalt not find it. | am now as fresh,

As hot, as high, and in as jovial plight® As when—in 160

robust condition

that so celebrated scene,

At recitation of our comedy For entertainment of the great Valois’— I acted young Antinois,® and attracted

The eyes and ears of all the ladies present, T’admire each graceful gesture, note, and footing.°

dance step

SONG 165

170

[He sings.|

Come, my Celia, let us prove,’ While we can, the sports of love. Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain. Suns that set may rise again,

But if once we lose this light "Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? 6. Proteus is a shape-changing sea god with whom Menelaus wrestles in the Odyssey. ‘The “hornéd flood” is the river god Achelous, defeated by Hercules despite changing into an ox. 7. Henry of Valois, Duke of Anjou, and later King Henry III of France (1574-89), was sumptuously

entertained at Venice in 1574, for men was widely remarked,

8. The

beautiful

His sexual taste

homosexual

Roman emperor Hadrian. 9. Try out. (The song is an

favorite adaptation

Roman poet Catullus’s fifth ode.)

of the of the

VOUPONIE

175

180

185

Fame and rumor are but toys.° Cannot we delude the eyes Of a few poor household spies? Or his° easier ears beguile, Thus removed by our wile? "Tis no sin love’s fruits to steal, But the sweet thefts to reveal. To be taken,° to be seen, These have crimes accounted been. CELIA Some serene® blast me, or dire lightning strike This my offending face! VOLPONE Why droops my Celia? Thou hast in place of a base husband found A worthy lover. Use thy fortune well, With secrecy and pleasure. See, behold What thou art queen of, not in expectation,? As I feed others, but possessed and crowned.

327

|

1045

trifles

Corvino's

caught

poisonous mist

merely in hope

[He reveals his treasures. |

190

195 |

200

205

See here a rope of pearl, and each more orient® brilliant Than that the brave Egyptian queen caroused;! Dissolve and drink ’em. See, a carbuncle? May put out both the eyes of our Saint Mark;? A diamond would have bought Lollia Paulina* When she came in like starlight, hid with jewels That were the spoils of provinces. Take these, And wear, and lose ’em; yet remains an earring To purchase them again, and this whole state. A gem but worth a private patrimony Is nothing; we will eat such at a meal. The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales, The brains of peacocks and of ostriches Shall be our food, and, could we get the phoenix,” Though nature lost her kind,’ she were our dish. it became extinct CELIA Good sir, these things might move a mind affected With such delights; but I, whose innocence

210

Is all I can And which Cannot be If you have VOLPONE

think wealthy° or worth th’enjoying, once lost, | have naught to lose beyond it, taken with these sensual baits. conscience— "Tis the beggar’s virtue.

If thou hast wisdom, hear me, Celia. Thy baths shall be the juice ofJuly flowers,° Spirit® of roses, and of violets, The milk of unicorns, and panthers’ breath®

1. Cleopatra dissolved and drank a pearl during a banquet with her lover, Marc Antony. “Brave”: magnificent. 2. Ruby, thought to emit light. 3. Patron saint of Venice, whose statue stood in the basilica.

valuable

clove pinks extract

4. Third wife of the Roman emperor Caligula. 5. Mythical bird, of which it was supposed that only one existed at a time; it died in flames and was reborn from its own ashes. 6. Panthers were believed to use their sweetsmelling breath to lure prey.

1046

215

220

|

BEN

JONSON

Gathered in bags, and mixed with Cretan wines. Our drink shall be preparéd gold and amber, Which we will take until my roof whirl round With the vertigo; and my dwarf shall dance, My eunuch sing, my fool make up the antic,’ Whilst we, in changed shapes, act Ovid’s tales: Thou like Europa now and I like Jove,

Then I like Mars and thou like Erycine,® So of the rest, till we have quite run through And wearied all the fables of the gods. 225

Then will I have thee in more modern forms,

Attiréd like some sprightly dame of France, Brave Tuscan lady, or proud Spanish beauty; Sometimes unto the Persian Sophy’s® wife, Or the Grand Signor’s°? mistress; and for change, 230

To one of our most artful courtesans,

Or some quick°® Negro, or cold Russian. And I will meet thee in as many shapes, Where we may so transfuse® our wand’ring souls Out at our lips, and score up sums of pleasures, 235

240

iS)+ vi

Shah of Persia's Sultan of Turkey's

[He sings.|_

energetic pour into each other

That the curious shall not know

How to tell° them as they flow; And the envious, when they find What their number is, be pined.° CELIA If you have ears that will be pierced, or eyes That can be opened, a heart may be touched, Or any part that yet sounds man? about you; If you have touch of holy saints or heaven, Do me the grace to let me scape. If not, Be bountiful and kill me. You do know I am a creature hither ill betrayed By one whose shame I would forget it were. If you will deign me neither of these graces,

count

tormented

Yet feed your wrath, sir, rather than your lust— It is a vice comes nearer manliness— Ne wn i>)

255

And punish that unhappy crime of nature Which you miscall my beauty. Flay my face Or poison it with ointments for seducing Your blood to this rebellion.? Rub these hands With what may cause an eating leprosy E’en to my bones and marrow—anything That may disfavor me,° save in my honor— And I will kneel to you, pray for you, pay down A thousand hourly vows, sir, for your health, Report and think you virtuous— VOLPONE 7. Grotesque dance or pageant. 8. Ovid's Metamorphoses retells the pagan myths of transformation. Jove, king of the gods, became a bull to seduce the lovely Europa. The adulterous

sexual mutiny

make me ugly

Think me cold, couple Mars, god of war, and Erycine (Venus),

goddess of sexual love, were caught in a net by Vulcan, her husband. 9. That has a hint of manliness.

VOLPONE

3.8

|

1047

Frozen, and impotent, and so report me? That I had Nestor’s! hernia, thou wouldst think. I do degenerate, and abuse my nation? To play with opportunity thus long. I should have done the act and then have parleyed.

260

Yield, or I'll force thee. 265

CE

LIA

vo

LPONE [seizing CELIA] In vain— He [Bonari0]| leaps out from where Mosca had placed him. NARIO. Forbear, foul ravisher, libidinous swine!

BO

O just God!

Free the forced lady or thou diest, impostor. But that I am loath to snatch thy punishment Out of the hand ofjustice, thou shouldst yet Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance

270

Before this altar and this dross,° thy idol_—

the treasure

Lady, let’s quit the place. It is the den Of villainy. Fear naught; you have a guard; And he? ere long shall meet his just reward.

Volpone

[Exeunt BONARIO and CELIA.| 275

vo

LPONE

Fall on me, roof, and bury me in ruin!

Become my grave, that wert my shelter! Oh! I am unmasked, unspirited, undone,

Betrayed to beggary, to infamy— SCENE 8. The scene continues.

Mosca

[Enter] mosca [bloody].' Where shall I run, most wretched shame of men,

To beat out my unlucky brains? LPONE Here, here. What! Dost thou bleed? MOSCA Oh, that his well-driv’n sword

vo

Had been so courteous to have cleft me down Unto the navel, ere I lived to see

My life, my hopes, my spirits, my patron, all Thus desperately engaged’ by my error! VOLPONE Woe on thy fortune! MOSCA VOLPONE

And my follies, sir. Th’hast made me miserable.

MOSCA And myself, sir. Who would have thought he would have hearkened?® so? What shall we do? vo LPONE MOSCA I know not. If my heart Could expiate the mischance, I’d pluck it out. Will you be pleased to hang me, or cut my throat? 1. Nestor was the oldest of the Greek leaders in

the Trojan War. 2. I fall away from my ancestors’ virtues and abuse the Italian reputation for virility. 3.8

placed at risk

1. Bonario apparently remembered Mosca’s invi-

eavesdropped

tation, in 3.2.66—68, to punish him if he turns out to be lying: “draw your just sword / And score your vengeance on my front and face; / Mark me your villain.

1048

|

BEN

JONSON

And Ill requite you, sir. Let’s die like Romans, Since we have lived like Grecians.2 They knock without. Ww

VOLPONE

Hark, who’s there?

I hear some footing: officers, the Safft,° Come to apprehend us! I do feel the brand Hissing already at my forehead; now Mine ears are boring.’ MOSCA To your couch, sir; you Make that place good, however.* [VOLPONE gets into bed.| Guilty men Suspect® what they deserve still.° [He opens the door.| Signor Corbaccio!

arresting officers

dread / always

SCENE 9. The scene continues.

[Enter] corBaccio [and converses with] MOSCA; VOLTORE [enters unnoticed by them]. corBaccio Why, how now, Mosca! MOSCA Oh, undone, amazed, sir.

Your son—I know not by what accident— Acquainted with your purpose to my patron Touching® your will and making him your heir, I

concerning

Entered our house with violence, his sword drawn,

Sought for you, called you wretch, unnatural, Vowed he would kill you. CORBACCIO

MOSCA

Me?

Yes, and my patron.

corRBACCIO. This act shall disinherit him indeed. Here is the will. MOSCA [taking it from him] Tis well, sir.

CORBACCIO Right and well. Be you as careful now for me. MOSCA My life, sir, Is not more tendered;° I am only yours. CoRBACCIO How does he? Will he die shortly, think’st thou?

MOSCA He'll outlast May. CORBACCIO Today? MOSCA No, last out May, sir. coRBACCIO Couldst thou not gi’ him a dram?° MOSCA

corRBACCcIO

cherished

I fear

dose (of poison) Oh, by no means, sir.

Nay, I'll not bid you.

VOLTORE [aside] This is a knave, I see. [VOLTORE comes forward to speak privately with mosca.| Mosca [aside] How, Signor Voltore! Did he hear me?

VOLTORE moscaA Who's that? Oh, sir, most timely welcome— 2. Romans often committed suicide in adversity; Greeks were thought to be pleasure-loving. 3. Branding was a common criminal punishment; ear-boring is described as an Italian torture in

Parasite!

Thomas Nashe’s Unfortunate Traveler (1594). 4. (1) Defend that place, whatever happens; (2) maintain your invalid’s role at all costs, since that role suits you.

VOLPONE

VOLTORE

20

Scarce®

|

1049

only just in time

To the discovery of your tricks, I fear. You are his only? And mine also? Are you not? Mosca Who, I, sir? [They speak out of corsaccio’s hearing. VOLTORE You, sir. What device? is this ruse About a will? MOSCA A plot for you, sir. VOLTORE Come, Put not your foists° upon me. I shall scent ‘em. tricks; stenches mosca __ Did you not hear it? VOLTORE Yes, | hear Corbaccio Hath made your patron there his heir. MOSCA

25

3.9

Tis true,

By my device, drawn to it by my plot, With hope— VOLTORE Your patron should reciprocate? And you have promised? MOSCA For your good I did, sir. Nay, more, I told his son, brought, hid him here Where he might hear his father pass the deed,

30

Being persuaded to it by this thought, sir, That the unnaturalness, first, of the act,

And then, his father’s oft disclaiming in° him

disowning

(Which I did mean t’ help on) would sure enrage him

To do some violence upon his parent, 35

40

45

On which the law should take sufficient hold,

And you be stated® in a double hope. installed Truth be my comfort and my conscience, My only aim was to dig you a fortune Out of these two old rotten sepulchres— VOLTORE I cry thee mercy, Mosca. MOSCA Worth your patience And your great merit, sir. And see the change! VOLTORE Why? What success?° outcome MOSCA Most hapless!° You must help, —unfortunate sir. Whilst we expected th’old raven, in comes Corvino’s wife, sent hither by her husband— VOLTORE What, with a present? MOSCA

No, sir, on visitation—

I'll tell you how, anon—and, staying long, The youth, he grows impatient, rushes forth, Seizeth the lady, wounds me, makes her swear— Or he would murder her, that was his vow—

T’affirm my patron to have done her rape, Which how unlike? it is, you see! And hence, With that pretext, he’s gone t’accuse his father, Defame my patron, defeat you— Where’s her husband? VOLTORE Let him be sent for straight.

unlikely

1050

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BEN

MOSCA VOLTORE 55

JONSON

Sir, I'll go fetch him. Bring him to the Scrutineo.°

MOSCA

Venetian law court

Sir, I will.

VOLTORE MOSCA

This must be stopped. Oh, you do nobly, sir.

Alas, ’twas labored all, sir, for your good;

60

Nor was there want of counsel? in the plot. But fortune can at any time o’erthrow The projects of a hundred learnéd clerks,° sir. CORBACCIO [striving to hear]

lack of wisdom scholars

_What’s that?

VOLTORE [to CORBACCIO]

Will’t please you, sir, to go along? [Exeunt CORBACCIO and VOLTORE.| mosca Patron, go in and pray for our success. VOLPONE [rising] Need makes devotion. Heaven your labor bless! Act 4

SCENE

1. The piazza.

[Enter] poLiric [and| PEREGRINE.

potitic

| told you, sir, it? was a plot. You see

What observation is! You mentioned me For® some instructions; I will tell you, sir, wa

Since we are met here, in this height° of Venice, Some few particulars I have set down Only for this meridian, fit to be known Of your crude® traveler, and they are these. I will not touch, sir, at your phrase or clothes, For they are old.' PEREGRINE Sir, I have better. POLITIC

the mountebank episode as one who could give

latitude inexperienced

Pardon,

I meant as they are themes.° topics for advice PEREGRINE Oh; sir, proceed. I'll slander® you no more of wit, good sir. accuse POLITIC First, for your garb,” it must be grave and serious, Very reserved and locked;° not® tell a secret guarded / do not On any terms, not to your father; scarce

A fable? but with caution. Make sure choice Both of your company and discourse. Beware You never speak a truth— PEREGRINE POLITIC

How! Not to strangers,°

foreigners

For those be they you must converse with most; Others? I would not know, sir, but at distance, So as I still might be a saver* in ’em. 4.1 1. I will not discuss those familiar (“old”) topics: the language one ought to use or the clothes one ought to wear. In the next line, in an attempt at a joke, Peregrine deliberately misconstrues “your . . . clothes” to refer to his own apparel, but Politic does not get it.

fellow countrymen

2. As for a traveler's bearing. 3. An apparently trivial story subject to political allegorization. 4. So that I might not be imposed upon. (“Be a saver’ is a gambling term, meaning “to escape loss.”)

VOLPONE

25

30

35

You shall have tricks else passed upon you hourly. And then, for your religion, profess none, But wonder at the diversity of all, And, for your part, protest, were there no other But simply the laws o’th’land, you could content you. Nick Machiavel and Monsieur Bodin both Were of this mind.” Then must you learn the use And handling of your silver fork° at meals, The metal® of your glass—these are main matters With your Italian—and to know the hour When you must eat your melons and your figs. PEREGRINE Is that a point of state,° too? POLITIC Here it is. For your Venetian, if he see a man Preposterous in the least, he has° him straight; He has, he strips° him. I'll acquaint you, sir.

4.1

|

1051

an Italian novelty composition

statecraft sees through ridicules; defrauds

I now have lived here—’tis some fourteen months;

Within the first week of my landing here,

40

All took me for a citizen of Venice, I knew the forms so well— PEREGRINE [aside] And nothing else. PpoLitic I had read Contarine,°® took me a house,

Dealt with my Jews’ to furnish it with movables°—

household goods

Well, if Icould but find one man, one man To mine own heart, whom I durst trust, | would— PEREGRINE What? What, sir? Make him rich, make him a fortune. POLITIC 45

He should not think? again. I would command it. PEREGRINE POLITIC

have to think

As how? With certain projects°® that I

entrepreneurial schemes

have— Which I may not discover.° If Ihad PEREGRINE [aside] But one® to wager with, I would lay odds, now, He tells me instantly. 50

reveal someone

POLITIC One is—and that I care not greatly who knows—to serve the state Of Venice with red herrings for three years, And at a certain rate, from Rotterdam,*®

Where I have correspondence. [He shows PEREGRINE a paper.] There’s a letter Dutch Sent me from one o’th’States,° and to that purpose;

55

provinces

He cannot write his name, but that’s his mark.

PEREGRINE [examining the paper] 5. Political theorists Niccolé Machiavelli (1469— 1527) and Jean Bodin (1530-1596) argued that

religious zeal was often politically inexpedient or divisive; as a result both were popularly thought to be atheists. 6. An English translation of Gasparo Contarini’s important book, The Commonwealth and

He is a chandler?” Government of Venice, was published in 1599. 7. The usual Jews. (In Venice Jews served as moneylenders and pawnbrokers.) 8. Venice, on the Adriatic Sea, had little need to

import pickled fish from afar. 9. Candlemaker. (Evidently the paper is greasestained.)

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BEN

JONSON

POLITIC

No, a cheesemonger.

There are some other® too, with whom I treat®

others / deal

About the same negotiation; And I will undertake it, for ’tis thus 60

I'll do’t with ease; I’ve cast it all.° Your hoy’ Carries but three men in her and a boy, And she shall make me three returns? a year.

figured it all out round trips

So if there come but one of three, I save;° If two, I can defalk.° But this is, now,

break even pay off loans

If my main project fail. PEREGRINE Then you have others? potitic I should be loath to draw® the subtle air Of such a place without my thousand aims.

breathe

I'll not dissemble, sir: where’er I come,

I love to be considerative;° and ’tis true I have at my free hours thought upon Some certain goods° unto the state of Venice,

analytic benefits

Which I do call my cautions,° and, sir, which

I mean, in hope of pension,° to propound

precautions

financial reward

To the Great Council, then unto the Forty, “I vi

So to the Ten.* My means® are made already— PEREGRINE By whom? POLITIC

80

contacts

Sir, one that though his place b’obscure,

Yet he can sway and they will hear him. He’s A commendatore. PEREGRINE What, a common sergeant? POLITIC Sir, such as they are put it in their mouths What they should say, sometimes, as well as greater.’ I think I have my notes to show you— [He searches in his garments.| PEREGRINE

POLITIC

Good, sir.

But you shall swear unto me on your gentry°®

gentleman’s honor

Not to anticipate— PEREGRINE I, sir?

POLITIC Nor reveal A circumstance—My paper is not with me. PEREGRINE Oh, but you can remember, sir. POLITIC My first is Concerning tinderboxes.° You must know No family is here without its box.

for lighting fires

Now, sir, it being so portable a thing, 90

Put case® that you or I were ill affected° Unto the state; sir, with it in our pockets Might not I go into the Arsenale?* Or you? Come out again? And none the wiser? 1. Small vessel, not suitable for long voyages. Sir Pol.s scheme is thus obviously impractical. . The Great Council was a large legislative group made up of wealthy Venetians; the Councils of Forty were much smaller groups that oversaw judicial affairs; the Council of Ten consisted

suppose / disposed

of the elected Doge and his cabinet. 3. Common men, as well as those of higher status, may sometimes make suggestions to the government. 4. Shipyard where Venice built and repaired its naval vessels.

VOLPONE

PEREGRINE

Go to,° then. I therefore

Advertise to° the state how fit it were

impatient expression

warn

Sealed® at some office, and at such a bigness

105

1053

That none but such as were known patriots,

Sound lovers of their country, should be suffered T’enjoy them? in their houses, and even those

100

|

Except yourself, sir.

POLITIC 95

4.1

As might not lurk in pockets. PEREGRINE Admirable! PoLitic My next is, how t’inquire and be resolved® By present® demonstration whether a ship Newly arrived from Syria, or from Any suspected part of all the Levant,° Be guilty of the plague. And where they use® To lie out® forty, fifty days sometimes

tinderboxes licensed; sealed shut

satisfied immediate Middle East are accustomed at anchor

About the Lazaretto,° for their trial,

I'll save that charge and loss unto the merchant, And in an hour clear the doubt. PEREGRINE Indeed, sir?

POLITIC Or—I will lose my labor. PEREGRINE My faith, that’s much. 110

PoLitic Some

Nay, sir, conceive? me. "Twill cost me in onions°®

Which is one pound sterling. PEREGRINE potitic Beside my waterworks. For this I do, sir. First I bring in your ship® ‘twixt two brick walls— But those the state shall venture.° On the one 115

120

understand French coins

thirty livres°—

I strain? me a fair tarpaulin, and in that

I stick my onions cut in halves; the other Is full of loopholes out at which I thrust The noses of my bellows, and those bellows I keep with® waterworks in perpetual motion’— Which is the easiest matter of a hundred.° Now, sir, your onion, which doth naturally Attract th’infection, and your bellows, blowing The air upon him,? will show instantly By his changed color if there be contagion, Or else remain as fair as at the first. Now ’tis known, ‘tis nothing.°

a ship in question pay for stretch

by means of as easy as can be

it (the onion)

there’s nothing to it

You are right, sir. PEREGRINE PpoLtitic I would I had my note. [He searches again in his garments.] PEREGRINE

Faith, so would J;

But, you ha’ done well for once, sir.

POLITIC

Were

I false,°

traitorous

Or would be made so, I could show you reasons

5. Quarantine hospital on an outlying island. 6. Onions were popularly supposed to absorb plague infection. 7. Perpetual-motion machines were popular

attractions in early modern England, but Jonson regarded them contemptuously. Since Venice is in flat marshland, there are no waterfalls to harness there, as Sir Pol proposes.

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BEN

JONSON

How I could sell this state now to the Turk,®

Spite of their galleys° or their— PEREGRINE Pray you, Sir Pol. PoLitic I have ’em° not about me. PEREGRINE That I feared.

warships the notes

They are there, sir? [He indicates a book po.itic is holding.]

135

POLITIC No, this is my diary, Wherein I note my actions of the day.’ PEREGRINE Pray you, let’s see, sir. What is here? [reading] “Notandum,

140

145

be it noted

A rat had gnawn my spur leathers;° notwithstanding I put on new and did go forth, but first I threw three beans over the threshold.° Item, I went and bought two toothpicks, whereof one I burst immediately in a discourse With a Dutch merchant, ’bout ragion’ del stato.° From him I went, and paid a moccinigo® For piecing® my silk stockings; by the way I cheapened sprats,' and at Saint Mark’s I urined.” Faith, these are politic notes! POLITIC Sir, I do slip® No action of my life thus but I quote? it. PEREGRINE

laces for good luck

political expediency small coin mending

let pass without noting

Believe me, it is wise!

POLITIC

Nay, sir, read forth. SCENE 2. The scene continues. [Enter] LADY [WOULD-BE], NANO, [and the two] WOMEN.

[They do not see PoLitic and PEREGRINE atfirst.] LADY WOULD-BE Where should this loose knight be, trow?° Sure he’s housed.° NANO

Why, then he’s fast.°

fast-moving; secure

LADY WOULD-BE Ay, he plays both® with me. I pray you, stay. This heat will do more harm To my complexion than his heart is worth. vi

do you suppose? in a brothel

I do not care to hinder, but to take° him. [She rubs her cheeks.| How it° comes off!

_both fast and loose

catch the makeup

FIRST WOMAN [pointing] My master’s yonder. LADY WOULD-BE Where? FIRST WOMAN With a young gentleman. LADY WOULD-BE That same’s the party, In man’s apparel!! [to NANO] Pray you, sir, jog my knight. I will be tender to his reputation, However he demerit.° deserves blame

8. The Ottoman Turks, southeast of Venice along the Adriatic Sea, were maritime and religious rivals and a long-standing military threat. 9. Many Renaissance travel writers recommended

that travelers keep a written

record of

their journeys. 1. Bargained over some small fish. 4.2 1. Lady Would-be believes that Peregrine is the whore Mosca mentioned, in transvestite attire.

VOLPONE

POLITIC [seeing her] PEREGRINE

4.2

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1055

My lady! Where?

PoLitic "Tis she indeed, sir; you shall know her. She is, Were she not mine,’ a lady of that merit

For fashion and behavior; and for beauty I durst compare— PEREGRINE

It seems you are not jealous,

That dare commend her. POLITIC Nay, and for discourse— PEREGRINE Being your wife, she cannot miss° that. POLITIC [introducing PEREGRINE]

lack (sarcastic) Madam,

Here is a gentleman; pray you use him fairly. He seems a youth, but he is— LADY WOULD-BE None? POLITIC

Yes, one

Has° put his face as soon? into the world— 20

LADY WOULD-BE POLITIC LADY WOULD-BE

/ soyoung who has

You mean, as early? But today How’s this! Why, in this habit,° sir; you apprehend? me.

apparel / understand

Well, Master Would-be, this doth not become you;

25

I had thought the odor, sir, of your good name Had been more precious to you, that you would not Have done this dire massacre on your honor— One of your gravity and rank besides! But knights, I see, care little for the oath

They make to ladies, chiefly their own ladies. Now, by my spurs—the symbol of my knighthood— potitic 30

PEREGRINE (aside) POLITIC

Lord, how his brain is humbled? for an oath! comprehend

—I reach® you not.

LADY WOULD-BE

cunning

Right, sir, your polity®

May bear’? it through thus. [to PEREGRINE] Sir, a word with you.

I would be loath to contest publicly With any gentlewoman, or to seem Froward? or violent; as The Courtier* says, It comes too near rusticity® in a lady,

Which I would shun by all means. And however I may deserve from Master Would-be, yet T’ have one fair gentlewoman?® thus be made

40

Th’unkind instrument to wrong another, And one she knows not, ay, and to persevere, In my poor judgment is not warranted From being a solecism® in our sex, If not in manners. How is this? PEREGRINE POLITIC

bluff

bad-tempered ill breeding

i.e., Peregrine

impropriety

Sweet madam,

Come nearer to your aim.°

2. Even though I, her husband, say so. 3. Literally, “brought down” to his feet—where

spurs, the appurtenances of a knight, are worn.

speak more clearly

4. Baldassare Castiglione’s famous handbook of gentility.

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JONSON

Marry, and will, sir. WOULD-BE Since you provoke me with your impudence And laughter of your light land-siren’ here, Your Sporus,° your hermaphrodite— What's here? PEREGRINE Poetic fury and historic storms!’ LADY

poLitic The gentleman, believe it, is of worth, And of our nation. Ay, your Whitefriars° nation! LADY WOULD-BE Come, I blush for you, Master Would-be, I,

vi vi

London brothel district

And am ashamed you should ha’ no more forehead® Than thus to be the patron, or Saint George,* To a lewd harlot, a base fricatrice,° A female devil in a male outside. POLITIC [to PEREGRINE] Nay, An° you be such a one, | must bid adieu To your delights. The case appears too liquid.’

shame

whore If

[POLITIC starts to leave.}

LADY WOULD-BE 60

Ay, you may carry’t clear, with your state-

face!° But for your carnival concupiscence,°

dignified expression

lecherous strumpet

Who here is fled for liberty of conscience® From furious persecution of the marshal,! Her will I disc’ple.°

licentious conduct discipline

[Exit POLITIC, LADY POLITIC accosts PEREGRINE. |

This is fine, i’faith! And do you use this° often? Is this part Of your wit’s exercise, ‘gainst you have occasion?

PEREGRINE

Madam— LADY WOULD-BE PEREGRINE

Go to,° sir.

act this way

impatient expression

Do you hear me, lady?

Why, if your knight have set you to beg shirts,* Or to invite me home, you might have done it A nearer® way by far. LADY WOULD-BE This cannot work you Out of my snare. PEREGRINE Why, am | in it, then? Indeed, your husband told me you were fair, And so you are; only your nose inclines— That side that’s next the sun—to the queen-apple.+ LADY WOULD-BE This cannot be endured by any patience. 5. The Sirens were mythical sea creatures who lured sailors to their deaths by sitting on dangerous rocks and singing irresistibly. (Lady Wouldbe refers to Peregrine.)

6. A eunuch whom the emperor Nero dressed in drag and married. 7. Peregrine notes that even Lady Would-be’s tantrums include literary allusions. 8. Patron saint of England, often pictured rescuing a damsel from a dragon, 9, Obvious. (Sir Pol has become convinced that his wife is right in believing that Peregrine is a

more direct

transvestite whore.)

1. Official charged with punishing prostitutes. Lady Would-be thinks that Peregrine has dressed as a man to flee prosecution. 2. To keep it ready for when it is really needed? 3. Peregrine pretends to believe that Lady Would-be is tearing off his shirt in order to give it to her husband. Probably she is just trying to prevent his leaving.

4. A bright red apple. See 3.4.15—16, where we learn that Lady Would-be is sensitive about her red nose.

VOLPONE

4.4

|

iKOS)7

SCENE 3. The scene continues. [Enter] MOSCA.

Mosca

What's the matter, madam?

LADY WOULD-BE

If the Senate®

Venetian government

Right not my quest?® in this, I will protest ‘em To all the world no aristocracy. Mosca

What is the injury, lady?

LADY WOULD-BE wa

petition

Why, the callet®

prostitute

You told me of, here I have ta’en disguised. mosca Who, this? What means Your Ladyship? The creature I mentioned to you is apprehended now Before the Senate. You shall see her— LADY WOULD-BE Where? mosca_ I'll bring you to her. This young gentleman, I saw him land this morning at the port. LADY WOULD-BE ___Is’t possible! How has my judgment wandered! [Releasing PEREGRINE] Sir, I must, blushing, say to you I have erred, And plead your pardon. PEREGRINE What, more changes yet? LADY WOULD-BE_ | hope you ha’ not the malice to remember A gentlewoman’s passion. If you stay In Venice here, please you to use me, L girs mosca_ Will you go, madam? Pray you, sir, use me. In faith, LADY WOULD-BE The more you see me, the more I shall conceive

You have forgot our quarrel. [Exeunt MOSCA, LADY WOULD-BE, NANO, and WOMEN. | 20

PEREGRINE This is rare! Sir Politic Would-be? No, Sir Politic Bawd, To bring me thus acquainted with his wife! Well, wise Sir Pol, since you have practiced thus Upon my freshmanship,? I'll try your salt-head, What proof? it is against a counterplot.

[Exit.| how invulnerable

SCENE 4. The Scrutineo, or Court of Law, in the

Doge's palace. [Enter] VOLTORE, CORBACCIO, CORVINO, land| Mosca.

Well, now you know the carriage® of the business, VOLTORE Your constancy is all that is required Unto the safety of it. MOSCA Is the lie Safely conveyed® amongst us? Is that sure? Knows

every man

his burden?°

4.3 1. Make use of my services. (With a sexual innuendo continued in “The more you see me, the more I shall conceive” [line 18], where “conceive”

means both “understand” and “conceive a child.”) 2. Taken advantage of my inexperience. (Pere-

management

agreed wpon refrain, tune

erine apparently believes that Sir Pol has deliberately involved him in a humiliating setup. “Salt-head,” following, plays on both “salt” meaning “seasoned,” “old,” and “salt” meaning “lecher-

ous.”

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BEN

JONSON

CORVINO Wes: MOSCA Then shrink not. CORVINO [aside to Mosca] But knows the advocate the truth? MoSCA [aside to CORVINO| Oh, sir, By no means. | devised a formal? tale elaborate That salved your reputation. But be valiant, sir. corvINO I fear no one but him,’ that this his pleading Voltore Should make him stand for a co-heir— 10

MOSCA Co-halter!! Hang him, we will but use his tongue, his noise, As we do Croaker’s,° here. CORVINO Ay, what shall he do?

Corbaccio’s

moscA_ When we ha’ done, you mean? CORVINO Yes. MOSCA Why, we'll think— Sell him for mummia;? he’s half dust already. ({Aside] to voLToRE) Do not you smile to see this buffalo,’ How he doth sport it with his head? [to himself] I should, If all were well and past. ([aside] to conBAccio) Sir, only you

Are he that shall enjoy the crop? of all, And these not know for whom they toil. CORBACCIO Ay, peace! MOSCA ([aside] to corvINO)

But you shall eat it. [To himself]

Much!° (then to vOLTORE again) Worshipful sir, Mercury? sit upon your thund’ring tongue, Or the French Hercules, and make your language As conquering as his club,’ to beat along, As with a tempest, flat, our adversaries! [Aside to corviNo] But much more yours,’ sir. nN wi

VOLTORE

harvest

Here they come. Ha’ done.°

Mosca _I have another witness° if you need, sir,

Sure you will!

your adversaries

shut wp Lady Would-be

I can produce. VOLTORE Who is it? MOSCA Sir, I have her. SCENE 5. The scene continues. [Enter] four AVOCATORI, BONARIO, CELIA. Notario [NoroRY], COMMENDATORI? [and other court officials].

uw

law court deputies

FIRST AVOCATORE The like of this the Senate never heard of. SECOND AVOCATORE "Twill come most strange to them when we report it. FOURTH AVOCATORE ‘The gentlewoman has been ever held Of unreproved name. THIRD AVOCATORE So, the young man. FOURTH AVOCATORE ‘The more unnatural part that of his father. 4.4 1. Playing on “halter,” a hangman’s noose, to suggest that both Corbaccio and Voltore are being duped. 2. Powdered embalmed corpse, used medicinally. 3. Corvino, with his cuckold’s horns.

4. May the god of rhetoric (and thieves). 5. After his tenth labor, according to some legendary accounts, Hercules, aged by now but powerfully eloquent, fathered the Celts in Gaul, or France. He was traditionally pictured with a club.

VOLPONE

SECOND AVOCATORE

|

1O5i9

More of the husband.

FIRST AVOCATORE His act a name,

4.5

I not know to give it is so monstrous!

FOURTH AVOCATORE But the impostor,’ he is a thing created T’exceed example!° FIRST AVOCATORE And all aftertimes!° SECOND AVOCATORE | never heard a true voluptuary

Volpone precedent later eras

Described but him.

THIRD AVOCATORE — Appear yet those were cited? NoTARY All but the old magnifico, Volpone. FIRST AVOCATORE Why is not he here? MOSCA Please Your Fatherhoods, Here is his advocate. Himself’s so weak, So feeble—

FOURTH AVOCATORE

What are you?

BONARIO

His parasite,

His knave, his pander! I beseech the court He may be forced to come, that your grave eyes May bear strong witness of his strange impostures. VOLTORE Upon my faith and credit with your virtues, He is not able to endure the air.

20

SE

COND AVOCATORE

Bring him, however.

THIRD AVOCATORE FOURTH AVOCATORE

We will see him. Fetch him.

[Exit officers.| VOLTORE Your Fatherhoods’ fit pleasures be obeyed, But sure the sight will rather move your pities Than indignation. May it please the court, In the meantime he may be heard in me. I know this place most void of prejudice, And therefore crave it, since we have no reason To fear our truth should hurt our cause. Speak free. THIRD AVOCATORE VOLTORE 30

Then know, most honored fathers, | must now

Discover® The most Of solid® That ever

to your strangely abused ears prodigious and most frontless° piece impudence and treachery vicious nature yet brought forth

reveal shameless complete

To shame the state of Venice. [indicating cELIA] This lewd woman,

35

who lacks That wants? no artificial looks or tears mask (weeping) on, put To help the visor® she has now intimate secret; adulteress close® a known Hath long been To that lascivious youth there [indicating BONARIO}; not suspected, I say, but known, and taken in the act

40

With him; and by this man, the easy° husband, Pardoned; whose timeless® bounty makes him now Stand here, the most unhappy, innocent person That ever man’s own goodness made accused. 4.5 1. That ever had his own goodness turned against him.

lenient __unseasonable; endless

1060

45

|

BEN

JONSON

acknowledge For these, not knowing how to owe’ a gift other than Of that dear grace but® with their shame, being placed So above all powers of their gratitude,” Began to hate the benefit, and in place Of thanks devise t’extirp® the memory to extirpate, wipe out Of such an act. Wherein I pray Your Fatherhoods

To observe the malice, yea, the rage of creatures

Discovered in their evils, and what heart°® Such take even from their crimes. But that anon Will more appear. This gentleman, the father,

audacity

[indicating CORBACCIO|

Hearing of this foul fact,° with many others

deed

Which daily struck at his too tender ears,

And grieved in nothing more than that he could not Preserve himself a parent—his son’s ills° Growing to that strange flood—at last decreed To disinherit him. FIRST AVOCATORE ‘These be strange turns! SECOND AVOCATORE The young man’s fame? was ever fair and honest. VOLTORE

evil deeds

reputation

So much more full of danger is his vice,

That can beguile so under shade of virtue. But, as I said, my honored sires, his father

Having this settled purpose, by what means 65

To him® betrayed we know not, and this day

Appointed for the deed, that parricide— I cannot style him better°—by confederacy Preparing this his paramour to be there, Entered Volpone’s house—who was the man, Your Fatherhoods must understand, designed For the inheritance—there sought his father. But with what purpose sought he him, my lords? I tremble to pronounce it, that a son

Bonario

give him a better name

Unto a father, and to such a father,

Should have so foul, felonious intent: It was to murder him. When, being prevented By his more happy° absence, what then did he? Corbaccio’s fortunate Not check his wicked thoughts; no, now new deeds— Mischief doth ever end where it begins*— 80

An act of horror, fathers! He dragged forth

The agéd gentleman, that had there lain bedrid Three years and more, out of his innocent couch;

Naked upon the floor there left him; wounded His servant in the face, and with this strumpet, The stale® to his forged practice,° who was glad To be so active—I shall here desire Your Fatherhoods to note but my collections? 2. Since the rare value of Corvino's forgiveness was so far beyond their powers of gratitude.

3. Wickedness is always persistent.

decoy / plot deductions

VOLPONE

4.5

|

1061

As most remarkable—thought at once to stop His father’s ends,° discredit his free choice 90

95

To this man’s mercenary tongue. SECOND AVOCATORE Forbear. BONARIO His soul moves in his fee. THIRD AVOCATORE Oh, sir! BONARIO

100

This fellow,

For six sols° more, would plead against his Maker. halfpennies FIRST AVOCATORE You do forget yourself. VOLTORE Nay, nay, grave fathers, Let him have scope. Can any man imagine That he will spare ’s° accuser, that would not spare his Have spared his parent? FIRST AVOCATORE Well, produce your proofs. CELIA | would IJ could forget I were a creature!° living being VOLTORE [calling a witness]

FOURTH AVOCATORE VOLTORE SECOND AVOCATORE

105

aims

In the old gentleman,’ redeem themselves Volpone By laying infamy upon this man°® Corvino To whom with blushing they should owe their lives. FIRST AVOCATORE What proofs have you of this? BONARIO Most honored fathers, I humbly crave there be no credit given

Signor Corbaccio!

What is he? The father. Has he had an oath?

NOTARY és. CORBACCIO What must I do now? NOTARY Your testimony’s craved. CORBACCIO [mis-hearing] Speak to the knave? I'll ha’ my mouth first stopped with earth! My heart knowing him / disavow Abhors his knowledge;° I disclaim in° him.

FIRST AVOCATORE

But for what cause? The mere portent of nature.’

CORBACCIO He is an utter stranger to my loins.

BONARIO 110

Have they made you to this?

I will not hear thee, CORBACCIO Monster of men, swine, goat, wolf, parricide!

Speak not, thou viper. BONARIO

Sir, I will sit down,

And rather wish my innocence should suffer Than I resist the authority of a father. VOLTORE [calling a witness] 115

Signor Corvino!

This is strange!

SECOND AVOCATORE FIRST AVOCATORE NoTARY The husband. FOURTH AVOCATORE __ Is he sworn? NOTARY THIRD AVOCATORE

Who's this?

Hes.

Speak, then.

4. Acompletely monstrous birth. (A deformed child was often considered to be a portent, or evil omen.)

1062

|

BEN

JONSON

corVINO This woman, please Your Fatherhoods, is a whore Of most hot exercise, more than a partridge,’ Upon record°—

FIRST AVOCATORE CORVINO

NOTARY CORVINO

as is well attested

No more. Neighs like a jennet.°

mare (in heat)

Preserve the honor of the court. I shall,

And modesty of your most reverend ears. And yet I hope that I may say these eyes Have seen her glued unto that piece of cedar, That fine well-timbered gallant;° and that here [Pointing to his forehead] The letters may be read, thorough the horn,’ That make the story perfect.° complete MOSCA [aside to CORVINO| CORVINO [aside to Mosca] MOSCA [aside to CORVINO]|

CORVINO [to the court]

Excellent, sir! There is no shame in this, now, is there? None.

Or if Isaid I hoped that she were

onward°

well on her way

To her damnation, if there be a hell 130

Greater than whore and woman—a good Catholic May make the doubt°— THIRD AVOCATORE His grief hath made him frantic. FIRST AVOCATORE

Remove him hence.

SECOND AVOCATORE

may wonder

She [CELIA] swoons.

Look to the woman!

CORVINO [taunting her]

Rare!

Prettily feigned! Again! FOURTH AVOCATORE Stand from about her. FIRST AVOCATORE Give her the air. THIRD AVOCATORE [to MOSCA|

What can you say?

MOSCA My wound, May’t please Your Wisdoms, speaks for me, received In aid of my good patron when he® missed Bonario His sought-for father, when that well-taught dame Had her cue given her to cry out a rape. BONARIO Oh, most laid? impudence! Fathers— premeditated THIRD AVOCATORE 140

Sir, be silent.

You had your hearing free,° so must they theirs. SECOND AVOCATORE | do begin to doubt th’imposture here. FOURTH AVOCATORE ‘This woman has too many moods. VOLTORE

Grave fathers,

She is a creature of a most professed And prostituted lewdness. CORVINO Most impetuous! Unsatisfied,° grave fathers! VOLTORE May her feignings 5. A bird capable of numerous consecutive sex-

ual acts and so a byword for lechery. 6. Corvino sarcastically compliments Bonario as a strapping fellow to whom Celia no doubt wishes to cling. The cedars of the Middle East are tall

uninterrupted

insatiable

and stately. 7. Children learned to read the alphabet from pages protected by transparent sheets of horn. (With an allusion to the cuckold’s horn.)

VOLPONE

150

4.6

Not take° Your Wisdoms! But® this day she baited A stranger, a grave knight, with her loose eyes And more lascivious kisses. This man° saw ‘em Together on the water in a gondola. Mosca Here is the lady herself that saw ’em too, Without;° who then had in the open streets Pursued them, but for saving her knight’s honor. FIRST AVOCATORE Produce that lady. SECOND AVOCATORE Let her come.

|

1063

take in / only Mosca waiting outside

[Exit MOSCA.]

FOURTH AVOCATORE They strike with wonder! THIRD AVOCATORE I am turned a stone!

These things,

SCENE 6. The scene continues.

[Enter] Mosca [and] LADy [WOULD-BE]. Mosca Be resolute, madam. LADY WOULD-BE Ay, this same is she. [To CELIA] Out, thou chameleon® harlot! Now thine

deceitfully changeable

eyes Vie tears with the hyena.' Dar’st thou look Upon my wrongéd face? [to the avocarori] I cry° your pardons. beg I fear I have forgettingly transgressed Against the dignity of the court— SECOND AVOCATORE No, madam. LADY WOULD-BE_ And been exorbitant°— excessive SECOND AVOCATORE You have not, lady. FOURTH AVOCATORE ‘These proofs are strong. LADY WOULD-BE Surely, | bad no purpose To scandalize your honors, or my sex’s.

THIRD AVOCATORE LADY WOULD-BE

We do believe it. Surely, you may believe it.

SECOND AVOCATORE

Madam, we do.

Indeed, you may. My breeding

LADY WOULD-BE Is not so coarse— FOURTH AVOCATORE

We know it.

LADY WOULD-BE

—to offend stubborn resolution

With pertinacy°—

THIRD AVOCATORE

Lady—

LADY WOULD-BE

—such a presence;

No, surely. FIRST AVOCATORE

We well think it.

LADY WOULD-BE

You may think it.

FIRST AVOCATORE [to the other avocaTori|

Let her o’'ercome.?

[To CELIA and BoNARIO| What witnesses have you To make good your report?

BONARIO 4.6

have the last

word

Our consciences.

at 1. A symbol of treachery, the hyena was supposed to be able to change its sex and the color of its eyes

will and to imitate human voices.

1064

|

BEN

JONSON

CELIA

And heaven, that never fails the innocent.

FOURTH AVOCATORE

‘These are no testimonies.

Not in your courts,

BONARIO

Where multitude and clamor overcomes.

Nay, then, you do wax insolent. VOLPONE is brought in [on a litter], as impotent.°

FIRST AVOCATORE

20

25

30

disabled

(see 5.2.97)

[LADY WOULD-BE embraces him.]|°

Here, here

VOLTORE

The testimony comes that will convince And put to utter dumbness their bold tongues. See here, grave fathers, here’s the ravisher, The rider on men’s wives, the great impostor, The grand voluptuary! Do you not think These limbs should affect venery?* Or these eyes Covet a concubine? Pray you, mark these hands: Are they not fit to stroke a lady’s breasts? Perhaps he doth dissemble? So he does. BONARIO VOLTORE Would you ha’ him tortured? I would have him proved.? BONARIO Best try him, then, with goads or burning irons; VOLTORE Put him to the strappado.* I have heard The rack’ hath cured the gout; faith, give it him And help him of a malady; be courteous. I'll undertake, before these honored fathers,

He shall have yet as many left° diseases As she has known adulterers, or thou strumpets.

40

remaining

O my most equal? hearers, if these deeds, Acts of this bold and most exorbitant strain,

impartial

May pass with sufferance,° what one citizen

be permitted

But owes the forfeit of his life, yea, fame

To him that dares traduce him?® Which of you Are safe, my honored fathers? I would ask, With leave of Your grave Fatherhoods, if their plot Have any face or color like to truth? Or if unto the dullest nostril here It smell not rank and most abhorréd slander? I crave your care of this good gentleman, Whose life is much endangered by their fable; And as for them, I will conclude with this:

That vicious persons, when they are hot, and fleshed’ In impious acts, their constancy°® abounds. Damned deeds are done with greatest confidence. FIRST AVOCATORE ‘Take ’em to custody, and sever them. 2. Delight in sexual activity. 3. Tested for impotence, a regular court procedure in some divorce and rape cases. (Torture was another method sometimes used to extract confessions.)

4. Torture in which the victim’s arms were tied behind his back; he was then hoisted up by the

resoluteness

wrists and dropped. 5. Torture instrument that stretched the victim to the point of dislocating his joints. 6. What citizen is there whose life and reputation might not be forfeit to a slanderer? 7. Excited by the taste of blood, like hunting hounds,

VOLPONE

2)

SECOND AVOCATORE

4.6

‘Tis pity two such prodigies° should live.

|

1065

monsters

[Exeunt CELIA and BONARIO, guarded.|

FIRST AVOCATORE Let the old gentleman be returned with care. I’m sorry our credulity wronged him. [Exeunt litter-bearers with VOLPONE.|

60

FOURTH AVOCATORE THIRD AVOCATORE

These are two creatures!°

monsters I have an earthquake in me!

SECOND AVOCATORE FOURTH AVOCATORE

‘Their shame, even in their cradles, fled their faces. [to VOLTORE] You've done a worthy service to the

state, sir,

In their discovery. FIRST AVOCATORE You shall hear ere night What punishment the court decrees upon ‘em. VOLTORE We thank Your Fatherhoods. [Exeunt AVOCATORI, NOTARY, COMMENDATORI.]

65

[To Mosca] How like you it? MOSCA Rare! I'd ha’ your tongue, sir, tipped with gold for this; I'd ha’ you be the heir to the whole city; The earth I'd have want men ere you want living.° They're bound to erect your statue in Saint Mark’s.— Signor Corvino, I would have you go And show yourself,® that you have conquered. CORVINO Yes.

lack income

Mosca [aside to CoRVINO] It was much better that you should profess Yourself a cuckold thus, than that the other?

Should have been proved. CORVINO Nay, I considered that. Now it is her fault.

MOSCA

Then it had been yours.

corvino. True. I do doubt this advocate still. MOSCA I’faith, You need not; I dare ease you of that care. COoRVINO I trust thee, Mosca.

MOSCA

As your own soul, sir. [Exit CORVINO.|

CORBACCIO

Mosca!

mosca_ Now for your business, sir. CORBACCIO How? Ha’ you business? MOSCA _ Yes, yours, sir. CORBACCIO Oh, none else? MOSCA None else, not I. corpaccio Be careful, then.

80

MOSCA corBACcIO MOSCA CORBACCIO

Rest you with both your eyes,” sir. rest assured

Dispatch it. Instantly. And look that all

8. Appear in public. (To indicate that he is not ashamed of having admitted to beinga cuckold.) 9, The attempt to prostitute Celia to Volpone.

1. Le., Hurry to make Volpone’s will, since Corbaccio has already delivered on his half of the promise.

1066

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BEN

JONSON

Whatever be put in: jewels, plate, moneys, Household stuff, bedding, curtains. MOSCA Curtain rings, sir. Only the advocate’s fee must be deducted. corBaccio I'll pay him, now; you'll be too prodigal. Mosca __ Sir, I must tender? it.

CORBACCIO mosca_

present

Two cecchines is well?

No, six, sir.

CORBACCIO MOSCA

"Tis too much.

He talked a great while,

You must consider that, sir.

corBACCIO [giving money] mosca_ I'll give it him. CORBACCIO

90

Well, there’s three—

Do so, and [he tips Mosca] there’s for thee. [Exit CORBACCIO.|

mosca [aside] Bountiful bones! What horrid strange offense Did he commit ’gainst nature in his youth Worthy this age? [to votroreE] You see, sir, how I work Unto your ends; take you no notice.° VOLTORE

leave it to me

No,

I'll leave you. MOSCA

[Exit VOLTORE.| [aside] the devil and all, Good advocate! [to LADY WOULD-BE] Madam, I'll bring you home.

100

All is yours,

LADY WOULD-BE_ No, I'll go see your patron. MOSCA That you shall not. I'll tell you why. My purpose is to urge My patron to reform’? his will; and, for The zeal you've shown today, whereas before You were but third or fourth, you shall be now Put in the first, which would appear as begged If you were present. Therefore— LADY WOULD-BE You shall sway me.

revise

[Exeunt.| Act 5

SCENE

1. VOLPONE’s house.

[Enter] VOLPONE [attended].

wa

VOLPONE Well, I am here, and all this brunt? is past. I ne’er was in dislike with my disguise Till this fled? moment; here twas good, in private, But, in your public—cavé° whilst I breathe. Fore God, my left leg ’gan to have the cramp, And I apprehended straight® some power had struck me With a dead palsy.° Well, | must be merry And shake it off. A many of these fears Would put me into some villainous disease, 2. To deserve this old age.

crisis

past

watch out

thought at once paralysis

V@IEROINE

15

V5.2

|

1067

Should they come thick upon me. I'll prevent em. Give me a bowl of lusty wine to fright This humor from my heart.'.—Hum, hum, hum! He drinks. "Tis almost gone already; I shall conquer,° overcome my fears Any device, now, of rare ingenious knavery, That would possess me with a violent laughter, Would make me up? again. So, so, so, so. Drinks again. restore me This heat is life; ‘tis blood by this time. [calling] Mosca! SCENE 2. The scene continues. [Enter] MOSCA.

Mosca _ How now, sir? Does the day look clear again? Are we recovered and wrought out of error Into our way, to see our path before us? Is our trade free once more? VOLPONE Exquisite Mosca! Mosca Was it not carried learnedly? VOLPONE And stoutly.°

resolutely

Good wits are greatest in extremities.

mosca It were a folly beyond thought to trust Any grand act unto a cowardly spirit. You are not taken with it enough, methinks? VOLPONE Oh, more than if I had enjoyed the wench! The pleasure of all womankind’s not like it. mosca Why, now you speak, sir. We must here be fixed; Here we must rest. This is our masterpiece. We cannot think to go beyond this. VOLPONE True, Th’hast played thy prize,' my precious Mosca. MOSCA

Nay, sir,

To gull® the court— VOLPONE And quite divert the torrent Upon the innocent. MOSCA

20

Yes, and to make

So rare a music out of discords*— VOLPONE Right. That yet to me’s the strangest, how th’ast borne it!° That these,° being so divided ‘mongst themselves, Should not scent? somewhat, or° in me or thee,

25

hoodwink

Or doubt their own side.° True, they will not see’t. MOSCA Too much light blinds ’em, I think. Each of ’em Is so possessed and stuffed with his own hopes That anything unto the contrary,

brought it off these men suspect / either

position

Never so true or never so apparent, Soll 1. Wine was supposed to convert quickly to blood (see line 17), thus giving courage to the drinker. 5.2

1. Professional fencers “played the prize,” i.e.,

competed for purses and titles, in virtuoso displays of swordsmanship. 2. To bring harmony out of various discordant elements was thought to be the highest achieve-

ment of art.

1068

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BEN

JONSON

Never so palpable, they will resist it— VOLPONE Like a temptation of the devil. MOSCA Right, sir. Merchants may talk of trade, and your great signors Of land that yields well; but if Italy Have any glebe® more fruitful than these fellows, I am deceived. Did not your advocate rare?° VOLPONE Oh!—“My most honored fathers, my grave fathers,

soil do brilliantly

Under correction of Your Fatherhoods, 35

What face of truth is here? If these strange deeds May pass, most honored fathers”—I had much ado To forbear laughing. MOSCA VOLPONE MOSCA

"T seemed to me you sweat,’ sir. In troth, I did a little. But confess, sir,

sweated (with fear)

Were you not daunted? VOLPONE In good faith, I was 40

A little in a mist,° but not dejected;°

uncertain / overwhelmed

Never but still myself. MOSCA I think? it, sir. Now, so truth help me, I must needs say this, sir,

believe

And out of conscience for your advocate: He’s taken pains, in faith, sir, and deserved, 45

In my poor judgment—I speak it under favor,° Not to contrary° you, sir—very richly— Well—to be cozened.° VOLPONE

with your permission contradict cheated

Troth, and I think so too,

By that° I heard him? in the latter end. mosca_

what / him say

Oh, but before, sir! Had you heard him first

Draw it to certain heads, then aggravate,* Then use his vehement figures°—I looked still

figures of speech

When he would shift* a shirt; and doing this Out of pure love, no hope of gain— VOLPONE "Tis right. I cannot answer® him, Mosca, as I would, Not yet; but for thy sake, at thy entreaty I will begin ev’n now to vex ‘em all, This very instant. MOSCA

repay

Good, sir.

VOLPONE And eunuch forth.

Call the dwarf

mos¢a [calling] Castrone, Nano! [Enter] NANO [and] CASTRONE. NANO Here.

VOLPONE Shall we have a jig, now? MOSCA What you please, sir. VOLPONE [to CASTRONE and NANO| Go, 3. Arrange his material under various headings, then bring charges.

4. Change (because his efforts made him sweat).

VOLPONE

60

5. 2

|

Straight give out about the streets, you two, That I am dead. Do it with constancy,° Sadly, do you hear? Impute it to the grief

1069

conviction

Of this late slander. [Exeunt CASTRONE and NANO.| MOSCA What do you mean, sir? VOLPONE 65

70

75

Oh,

I shall have instantly my vulture, crow, Raven come flying hither on the news To peck for carrion, my she-wolf® and all, Greedy and full of expectation— mosca_ And then to have it ravished from their mouths? VOLPONE "Tis true. I will ha’ thee put on a gown? And take upon thee as° thou wert mine heir; Show ’em a will. Open that chest and reach Forth one of those that has the blanks.° I'll straight Put in thy name.

Lady Would-be

act as though

blank spaces

mosca |fetching a blank will} It will be rare, sir. VOLPONE Ay, When they e’en gape, and find themselves deluded— MOSCA Yes. VOLPONE And thou use them scurvily. Dispatch, Get on thy gown. [VOLPONE signs the will Mosca has given him. MOSCA puts on a mourning garment.| MOSCA But, what, sir, if they ask

After the body? VOLPONE Say it was corrupted. Mosca _ I'll say it stunk, sir, and was fain® t’have it 80

I was obliged

Coffined up instantly and sent away. VOLPONE Anything; what thou wilt. Hold, here’s my will. Get thee a cap, a count-book, pen and ink, Papers afore thee; sit as thou wert taking An inventory of parcels.° I'll get up

items

Behind the curtain on a stool, and hearken; 85

90

Sometime peep over, see how they do look, With what degrees their blood doth leave their faces. Oh, ’twill afford me a rare meal of laughter! gloomy mosca_ Your advocate will turn stark dull® upon it. VOLPONE It will take off his oratory’s edge. aristocrat (Corbaccio) But your clarissimo,° old round-back, he Mosca curl up on you Will crump you? like a hog-louse with the touch. VOLPONE And what Corvino? MOSCA

Oh, sir, look for him

Tomorrow morning with a rope and a dagger® To visit all the streets; he must run mad. 5. This must be the long black gown ordinarily worn by chief mourners, not the clarissimo's

6. Traditional equipment of suicidal madmen, borne by the allegorical figure of Despair in

the scene and which constitutes a different kind

Hieronimo in The Spanish Tragedy.

(aristocrat’s) garment, which Mosca dons later in

of insult to Voltore, Corbaccio, and Corvino.

Spenser's Faerie Queene 1.9 and by the revenger

1070

95

|

BEN

JONSON

My lady, too, that came into the court To bear false witness for Your Worship— VOLPONE

100

Yes,

And kissed me ’fore the fathers, when my face Flowed all with oils.° MOSCA And sweat, sir. Why, your gold Is such another® med’cine, it dries up All those offensive savors! It transforms

(see 4.6.20. 1-2) so effective a

The most deforméd, and restores ‘em lovely,

105

As ’twere the strange poetical girdle.’ Jove Could not invent t’himself a shroud more subtle To pass Acrisius’ guards.® It is the thing Makes all the world her grace, her youth, her beauty. VOLPONE | think she loves me. MOSCA Who? The lady, sir? She’s jealous of you.” VOLPONE Dost thou say so? [Knocking offstage.| MOSCA

Hark,

There’s some already. VOLPONE Look. MOSCA [peeping out the door] It is the vulture. He has the quickest scent. VOLPONE I'll to my place, Thou to thy posture.° MOSCA 110

pose

I am set.

VOLPONE

But, Mosca,

Play the artificer® now; torture ‘em rarely. [VOLPONE conceals himself.|

artist

SCENE 3. The scene continues.

[Enter] VOLTORE.

VOLTORE How now, my Mosca? MOSCA [pretending not to notice him, and reading from an inventory] “Turkey carpets,°? nine”— VOLTORE ‘Taking an inventory? That is well. Mosca “Two suits of bedding, tissue”!— VOLTORE Where’s the will? Let me read that the while.° [Enter] corsaccio [on a litter]. CORBACCIO [to the litter-beaters} So, set me down

And get you home. vi

VOLTORE mosca

while you're busy

[Exeunt litter-bearers.| Is he come now to trouble us?

“Of cloth-of-gold,* two more”—

7. The girdle of Venus, the goddess of love, made its wearer irresistible. 8. King Acrisius shut his daughter Danaé in a tower, but the god Jove came to her in a shower of gold. 9. (1) Devoted

wealth.

Oriental rugs

to you;

(2) covetous

of your

5.3

1. Sets of bedcovers and hangings, made of cloth with gold or silver threads interwoven. The fancy textiles Mosca mentions in this scene were extremely expensive to produce in the days before automation. 2. Cloth made of gold threads.

VOLPONE

5.3.

|

1071

CORBACCIO

Is it done, Mosca? Mosca. “Of several velvets,° eight”— separate velvet hangings VOLTORE [aside] I like his care. CORBACCIO [to Mosca| Dost thou not hear? [Enter] CORVINO. CORVINO Ha! Is the hour come, Mosca?

VOLPONE peeps from behind a traverse.°

curtain

VOLPONE [aside] Ay, now they muster.° assemble CORVINO What does the advocate here? Or this Corbaccio? CORBACCIO What do these here? [Enter] LaDy [WOULD-BE]. 10

LADY WOULD-BE Mosca, Is his thread spun?? MOSCA “Eight chests of linen’— VOLPONE [aside]

Oh,

My fine Dame Would-be, too! CORVINO

Mosca, the will,

That I may show it these, and rid em hence. Mosca “Six chests of diaper, four of damask”*—there. [He gives them the will.| corBaccio Is that the will? MOSCA “Down beds and bolsters’— VOLPONE [aside] Rare! Be busy still. Now they begin to flutter; They never think of me. Look, see, see, see! How their swift eyes run over the long deed Unto the name, and to the legacies, 20

What is bequeathed them there— MOSCA “Ten suits of hangings’°— _ tapestries VOLPONE

[aside]

Ay, i’ their garters,> Mosca. Now their hopes

Are at the gasp.° VOLTORE

CORBACCIO VOLPONE [aside] 25

last gasp

Mosca the heir!

What's that? My advocate is dumb. Look to my merchant;

He has heard of some strange storm, a ship is lost, He faints. My lady will swoon. Old glazen-eyes,° He hath not reached his despair yet. All these CORBACCIO Are out of hope; I’m sure the man. But, Mosca— CORVINO “Two cabinets’— MOSCA Is this in earnest? CORVINO “One MOSCA Of ebony”— 3. Is he dead? (In Greek mythology, the Fates

spin out the thread of a human being’s life and cut it at the time of death.) 4. Two kinds of costly textile with interwoven motifs. Diaper was linen with a diamond pattern; damask could be linen or silk with floral or

other designs. 5. “Go hang yourself in your own garters” was a common phrase of ridicule. 6. Corbaccio wears spectacles (see also line 63 below).

1072

30

|

BEN

JONSON

CORVINO Or do you but delude me? mosca_ “The other, mother-of-pearl”—I am very busy. Good faith, it is a fortune thrown upon me— “Item, one salt°® of agate”—not my seeking. saltcellar LADY WOULD-BE Do you hear, sir? MOSCA “A perfumed box”—pray you, forbear; You see I am troubled°—“made of an onyx”— busy LADY WOULD-BE How! Mosca Tomorrow or next day I shall be at leisure To talk with you all. CORVINO Is this my large hope’s issue?° outcome LADY WOULD-BE__

Sir, I must have a fairer answer.

MOSCA Madam! Marry, and shall: pray you, fairly° quit my house. Nay, raise no tempest with your looks, but hark you, 40

45

50

Remember what Your Ladyship offered me°® implicitly, sexual favors To put you in® an heir; go to, think on'’t, your name in as And what you said e’en your best madams did For maintenance,’ and why not you? Enough. financial support Go home and use the poor Sir Pol, your knight, well, For fear I tell some riddles.° Go, be melancholic. [Exit LADY WOULD-BE.| VOLPONE [aside] Oh, my fine devil!

60

secrets

CORVINO Mosca, pray you a word. mosca_ Lord! Will not you take your dispatch hence yet? Methinks of all you should have been th’example.® led the way Why should you stay here? With what thought? What promise? Hear you, do not you know I know you an ass? And that you would most fain have been a wittol® willing cuckold If fortune would have let you? That you are A declared cuckold, on good terms?° This pearl,

55

positively

You'll say, was yours? Right. This diamond? I'll not deny’t, but thank you. Much here else? It may be so. Why, think that these good works May help to hide your bad. I'll not betray you. Although you be but extraordinary® And have it only in title, it sufficeth.

in good standing

in name only the name of cuckold

Go home. Be melancholic too, or mad. [Exit CORVINO.] VOLPONE [aside] Rare, Mosca! How his villainy becomes him! VOLTORE [aside] Certain he doth delude all these for me.

corBACClo [finally making out the will] VOLPONE [aside]

corBACcIO_

Mosca the heir? Oh, his four eyes have found it!

I’m cozened, cheated by a parasite-slave!

Harlot,’ th’ast gulled me. 65

MOSCA Yes, sir. Stop your mouth, Or I shall draw the only tooth is left. Are not you he, that filthy covetous wretch With the three legs,’ that here, in hope of prey, 7. A word used of wicked men as well as women.

including his cane

MOIEROINIE

70

75

|

1073

Have, any time this three year, snuffed about With your most grov’ling nose, and would have hired Me to the pois’ning of my patron? Sir? Are not you he that have today in court Professed the disinheriting of your son? Perjured yourself? Go home, and die, and stink. If you but croak a syllable, all comes out. Away and call your porters. Go, go stink! [Exit CORBACCIO.] VOLPONE

80

955.3

[aside]

Excellent varlet!°

servant; rascal

VOLTORE Now, my faithful Mosca, I find thy constancy— MOSCA Sir? VOLTORE Sincere. MOSCA “A table Of porphyry’—I mar'l° you'll be thus troublesome. marvel VOLTORE Nay, leave off now, they are gone. MOSCA Why, who are you? What? Who did send for you? Oh, cry you mercy,° beg your pardon Reverend sir! Good faith, I am grieved for you, That any chance of mine should thus defeat Your—I must needs say—most deserving travails. But I protest, sir, it was cast upon me, And I could almost wish to be without it,

90

95

But that the will o’th’dead must be observed. Marry, my joy is that you need it not; You have a gift, sir—thank your education— Will never let you want, while there are men And malice to breed causes.° Would I had But half the like, for all my fortune, sir! If Ihave any suits—as I do hope, Things being so easy and direct,* I shall not— I will make bold with your obstreperous? aid, Conceive me, for your fee,’ sir. In meantime

lawsuits

vociferous

You, that have so much law, I know, ha’ the conscience

100

Not to be covetous of what is mine. (see 1.3.1-20) Good sir, | thank you for my plate;° twill help set wp my household To set up a young man.° Good faith, you look As you were costive; best go home and purge, sir. [Exit VOLTORE.] VOLPONE

[coming from behind the traverse]

Bid him eat

used as a laxative

lettuce® well. My witty mischief,

Let me embrace thee! [He hugs mosca.] Oh, that I could now for Volpone’s sexual use Transform thee to a Venus!° Mosca, go, 105

Straight take my habit of clarissimo! And walk the streets; be seen, torment ‘em more.

We must pursue as well as plot. Who would 8. The situation being so straightforward. 9. It being understood that I will pay you, of course. 1. Aristocrat. (By obeying this order, Mosca vio-

lates the sumptuary laws that restricted the wearing of distinctive high-status garments, such as the clarissimo's robe, to persons of the appropriate rank.)

1074

|

BEN

JONSON

Have lost° this feast? MOSCA 110

missed I doubt? it will lose them.°

fear / asdupes

VOLPONE Qh, my recovery shall recover all.’ That I could now but think on some disguise To meet ’em in, and ask em questions.

How I would vex ’em still at every turn! mosca | Sir, I can fit you. VOLPONE Canst thou? MOSCA Yes, I know One o’the commendatori, sir, so like you,

Him will I straight make drunk, and bring you his habit. VOLPONE A rare disguise, and answering thy brain!° Oh, I will be a sharp disease unto ’em. Mosca _ Sir, you must look for curses— VOLPONE Till they burst! The fox fares ever best when he is curst.°

[Exeunt.|

suiting your wit

proverbial wisdom

SCENE 4. The WOULD-BES’ house. [Enter] PEREGRINE [in disguise, and] three MERCATORI [MERCHANTS].

PEREGRINE

Am I enough disguised?

FIRST MERCHANT I warrant you. PEREGRINE All my ambition is to fright him only.

SECOND MERCHANT If you could ship him away, ’twere excellent. THIRD MERCHANT To Zante, or to Aleppo?! PEREGRINE va

Yes, and ha’ his

Adventures put i’th’book of voyages,” And his gulled® story registered for truth?

erroneous

Well, gentlemen, when I am in awhile,

And that you think us warm in our discourse, Know® your approaches. FIRST MERCHANT Trust it to our care.

10

make

[Exeunt MERCHANTS. | [PEREGRINE knocks. A] WOMAN [servant answers the door]. PEREGRINE Save you, fair lady. Is Sir Pol within?

woMANn I do not know, sir. PEREGRINE Pray you, say unto him Here is a merchant upon earnest business Desires to speak with him. WOMAN I will see, sir. PEREGRINE Pray you. [Exit WOMAN. |

I see the family is all female here. [Enter WOMAN. | 2. Volpone believes that by “undoing” his death, he will be able to resuscitate his scam. 5.4 1. Zante is an island off Greece under Venetian control; Aleppo, a big trading center, is in Syria.

2. An enlarged edition of Richard Hakluyt’s Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffics, and Discoveries of the English Nation was published in 1598-1600.

VOLPONE

WOMAN He says, sir, he has weighty affairs of state That now require him whole;° some other time You may possess° him. PEREGRINE

20

5.4

|

1075

demand all his attention gain audience with

Pray you say again,

If those require him whole, these will exact him?® Whereof I bring him tidings. [Exit WOMAN.| What might be His grave affair of state, now? How to make

force him out

Bolognian sausages here in Venice, sparing

One o'th ingredients? [Enter WOMAN. |

25

WOMAN Sir, he says he knows By your word “tidings” that you are no statesman,” And therefore wills you stay.° wishes you to wait PEREGRINE Sweet, pray you return® him reply to I have not read so many proclamations And studied them for words as he has done, But—here he deigns to come. [Enter] POLITIC. [Exit WOMAN. | Sir, | must crave

POLITIC

30

Your courteous pardon. There hath chanced today Unkind disaster ’twixt my lady and me, And I was penning my apology To give her satisfaction, as you came now. PEREGRINE Sir, | am grieved I bring you worse disaster. The gentleman you met at th’port today, That told you he was newly arrived— POLITIC

Ay, was

A fugitive punk?° 35

PEREGRINE

prostitute No, sir, a spy set on you,

And he has made relation to the Senate That you professed to him to have a plot To sell the state of Venice to the Turk.°

40

(see 4.1.128—30)

PoLitic Oh, me! PEREGRINE For which warrants are signed by this time To apprehend you, and to search your study For papers— POLITIC Alas, sir, I have none but notes Drawn

printed plays

out of playbooks°—

All the better, sir. PEREGRINE PoLitic And some essays. What shall I do? Sir, best

PEREGRINE

Convey yourself into a sugar-chest; 45

Or, if you could lie round, a frail were rare,*

And I could send you aboard. POLITIC

Sir, I but talked so,

3. Government agent. (Sir Pol believes that a spy would use the word “intelligence.”)

4. If you could curl up, a fruit basket would be excellent.

1076

|

BEN

JONSON

For discourse sake merely.° They knock without. PEREGRINE Hark, they are there! POLITIC I ama wretch, a wretch! PEREGRINE

just to be conversing

What will you do, sir?

Ha’ you ne'er a currant-butt® to leap into? They'll put you to the rack; you must be sudden. POLITIC

Sir, I have

an

engine°—

THIRD MERCHANT [without] SECOND MERCHANT [without]

vi vi

60

casket for currants contrivance

Sir Politic Would-be! Where is he?

POLITIC That I have thought upon beforetime. PEREGRINE What is it? POLITIC I shall ne’er endure the torture! Marry, it is, sir, of a tortoiseshell, [producing the shell] Fitted for these extremities. Pray you sir, help me. Here I have a place, sir, to put back my legs— Please you to lay it on, sir—with this cap And my black gloves. I'll lie, sir, like a tortoise Till they are gone. PEREGRINE [laying the shell on pouiric’s back] And call you this an engine? potitic Mine own device—good sir, bid my wife’s women To burn my papers. [Exit PEREGRINE. | They [the MERCHANTS] rush in. FIRST MERCHANT Where’s he hid? THIRD MERCHANT We must And will, sure, find him.

SECOND MERCHANT

Which is his study?

[Enter PEREGRINE. | FIRST MERCHANT

What

Are you, sir?

PEREGRINE

I'ma merchant, that came here

To look upon this tortoise. THIRD MERCHANT FIRST MERCHANT What beast is this?

How?

Saint Mark!

PEREGRINE It is a fish. SECOND MERCHANT [to POLITIC]

PEREGRINE

Come out here!

Nay, you may strike him, sir, and tread upon him.

He'll bear a cart. FIRST MERCHANT What, to run over him?

PEREGRINE THIRD MERCHANT SECOND MERCHANT

Nes.

Let’s jump upon him. Can he not go?°

PEREGRINE

FIRST MERCHANT [poking Pouitic| PEREGRINE will hurt him.

SECOND MERCHANT

Let’s see him creep.

walk He creeps, sir.

No, good sir, you

Heart! I'll see him creep, or prick his guts.

THIRD MERCHANT [to POLITIC]

Come out here!

|

VMONERO NIE S75

PEREGRINE _ [aside to POLITIC]

|

Pray you, sir, creep a little.

[POLITIC creeps.| FIRST MERCHANT

SECOND MERCHANT PEREGRINE

75

80

1077

Forth!

Yet further.

[aside to POLITIC]

Good sir, creep.

SECOND MERCHANT We'll see his legs. They pull off the shell and discover® him. THIRD MERCHANT Godso, he has garters! FIRST MERCHANT Ay, and gloves! SECOND MERCHANT Is this Your fearful tortoise? PEREGRINE [revealing himself] Now, Sir Pol, we are even. For your next project I shall be prepared. I am sorry for the funeral of your notes, sir. FIRST MERCHANT “"Twere a rare motion to be seen in Fleet Street!> SECOND MERCHANT Ay, i'the term. FIRST MERCHANT Or Smithfield, in the fair.® THIRD MERCHANT Methinks ’tis but a melancholic sight! PEREGRINE Farewell, most politic tortoise.

expose

[Exeunt PEREGRINE and MERCHANTS. | [Enter WOMAN.|

POLITIC Knows she of this? WOMAN

Where’s my lady? I know not, sir.

POLITIC

Inquire. [Exit WOMAN. |

Oh, I shall be the fable of all feasts,°

talk ofthe town

The freight of the gazetti, ship boys’ tale,’ And, which is worst, even talk for ordinaries.°

taverns

[Enter WOMAN. |

WOMAN My lady’s come most melancholic home, And says, sir, she will straight to sea for physic. potitic

And I, to shun this place and clime forever,

Creeping with house on back, and think it well To shrink my poor head in my politic shell. [Exeunt.| SCENE 5. VOLPONE'’s house.

[Enter] voLPone [and] mosca, the first in the habit of a commendatore, the other, ofa clarissimo.°

voLPpoNnE MOSCA

Oh, sir, you are he. No man can sever® you. VOLPONE Good. MOSCA But what am I?

VOLPONE.

(see 5.3.104—15)

Am [then like him?

Fore heav’n, a brave® clarissimo; thou becom’st it!

5. Puppet shows, called “motions,” were frequently performed on London’s Fleet Street, adjacent to the Inns of Court, where attorneys were trained and cases were argued during the three law terms.

distinguish

splendid

was the just northwest of London, 6. Smithfield, site every August of Bartholomew Fair; puppet shows were a prime entertainment there. 7. Topic of the newspapers and the gossip of boys serving on board ships.

1078

|

BEN

JONSON

Pity thou wert not born one. MOSCA If I hold Wa

My made one, 'twill be well. VOLPONE I'll go and see What news, first, at the court. MOSCA Do so.

[Exit VOLPONE.| My fox

Is out on® his hole,! and ere he shall reenter

I'll make him languish in his borrowed case,° Except he come to composition® with me. [Calling] Androgyno, Castrone, Nano!

of

disguise

unless he makes a deal

[Enter ANDROGYNO, CASTRONE, and NANO.| 10

ALL MoscA_

Here. Go recreate yourselves abroad;° go sport.

outside

[Exeunt ANDROGYNO, CASTRONE, and NANO.|

So, now I have the keys, and am possessed.°

in possession

Since he will needs be dead afore his time,

I'll bury him or gain by him. I am his heir, And so will keep me? till he share at least.

remain

To cozen him of all were but a cheat Well placed; no man would construe it a sin.

Let his sport pay for’t.° This is called the Fox Trap. [Exit.]

for itself

SCENE 6. A street in Venice.

[Enter] CORBACCIO [and] CORVINO.

cORBACCIO. They say the court is set.° in session CORVINO We must maintain Our first tale good, for both our reputations. CORBACCIO Why, mine’s no tale; my son would there have killed me. corRVINO That’s true; I had forgot. [aside] Mine is, I am sure.— But for your will, sir.

CORBACCIO Ay, I'll come upon him For that hereafter, now his patron’s dead. [Enter] VOLPONE [disguised].

VOLPONE Signor Corvino! And Corbaccio! Sir, Much joy unto you.

CORVINO Of what? VOLPONE The sudden good Dropped down upon you— CORBACCIO Where? VOLPONE And none knows how— From old Volpone, sir. 10

CORBACCIO

Out, arrant knave!

VOLPONE Let not your too much wealth, sir, make you furious.° CORBACCIO Away, thou varlet! VOLPONE Why, sir? CORBACCIO Dost thou mock me? 5.5

1. Alluding to the children’s game, fox-in-the-hole.

insane

VOIEROINIEN

VOLPONE

Sav

You mock the world, sir.' Did you not change? wills?

|

1079

exchange

CORBACCIO Out, harlot! VOLPONE [to CoRVINO] Oh, belike you are the man, 15

20

25

Signor Corvino? Faith, you carry it® well; You grow not mad withal. I love your spirit. You are not overleavened® with your fortune. You should ha’ some would swell now like a wine-vat With such an autumn.° Did he gi’ you all, sir? CORVINO Avoid,° you rascal! VOLPONE Troth, your wife has shown Herself a very° woman. But you are well; You need not care; you have a good estate To bear it out, sir, better by this chance— Except Corbaccio have a share?

carry it off too puffed up harvest go away

typical

CORBACCIO Hence, varlet! VOLPONE You will not be aknown,? sir; why, ’tis wise.

Thus do all gamesters at all games dissemble. No man will seem to win.®

admit he's winning

[Exeunt CORBACCIO and CORVINO.|

Here comes my vulture, Heaving his beak up i’the air and snuffing. SCENE 7. The scene continues. [Enter] VOLTORE.

VOLTORE [to himself | Outstripped thus by a parasite? A slave Would run on errands, and make legs° for crumbs? Well, what I'll do—

VOLPONE The court stays for? Your Worship. I e’en rejoice, sir, at Your Worship’s happiness, And that it fell into so learned hands That understand the fingering!— VOLTORE What do you mean? VOLPONE I mean to be a suitor to Your Worship For the small tenement, out of reparations*— That at the end of your long row of houses By the piscaria.° It was in Volpone’s time, Your predecessor, ere he grew diseased, A handsome, pretty, customed® bawdy house As any was in Venice—none dispraised*—

curtsies

awaits

fish market

much-patronized

But fell with him; his body and that house

Decayed together. VOLTORE

Come, sir, leave your prating.°

VOLPONE Why, if Your Worship give me but your hand, That I may ha’ the refusal,° I have done.

5.6

1. Volpone pretends to believe that Corbaccio is misleading people by refusing to admit to his good fortune. 2. You prefer not to be recognized (as heir).

5.7

chattering

right offirst refusal

1. That understand how to handle money. 2. For the rental house in bad repair. 3. Not to disparage the others.

1080

|

BEN

JONSON

'Tis a mere toy to you, sir, candle-rents,* As Your learned Worship knows— VOLTORE What do I know? VOLPONE

Marry, no end of your wealth, sir, God decrease? it.

VOLTORE VOLPONE

Mistaking knave! What, mock’st thou my misfortune? His? blessing on your heart, sir! Would ’twere more.

God's

[Exit VOLTORE.| Now, to my first® again, at the next corner.

SCENE 8. The scene continues. [Enter] corspaccio [and] corvino. [Enter] MOSCA, passant° [over the stage in clarissimo’s attire, and exit].

CORBACCIO See, in our habit! See the impudent varlet! corvINo That I could shoot mine eyes at him, like gunstones!° VOLPONE

cannonballs

But, is this true, sir, of the parasite?

CoRBACCIO.

Again t’afflict us? Monster!

VOLPONE vi

passing

In good faith, sir,

I’m heartily grieved a beard of your grave length® so wise an old man Should be so overreached. I never brooked® could stand That parasite’s hair; methought his nose should cozen.° he had a cheating nose There still? was somewhat in his look did promise. always The bane? of a clarissimo. ruin CORBACCIO Knave— VOLPONE

[to CORVINO|

Methinks

Yet you that are so traded? i’the world,

10

experienced

A witty merchant, the fine bird Corvino,

That have such moral emblems! on your name, Should not have sung your shame and dropped your cheese, To let the fox laugh at your emptiness.” corVINO Sirrah, you think the privilege of the place,’ And your red saucy cap, that seems to me Nailed to your jolt-head with those two cecchines,* Can warrant® your abuses. Come you hither. You shall perceive, sir, | dare beat you. Approach! VOLPONE

sanction

No haste, sir, | do know your valor well,

Since you durst publish° what you are, sir.

make public

[VOLPONE makes as if to leave.|

CORVINO I'd speak with you. VOLPONE

CORVINO VOLPONE

Tarry! Sir, sir, another time—

Nay, now. Oh, God, sir! I were a wise man

Would stand® the fury of a distracted cuckold. MoscCA [enters and] walks by ‘em. CORBACCIO What! Come again? 4. (1) Revenue from deteriorating property; (2) “pin money,” money for incidentals. 5. Instead of “increase”.

6. The ones I was taunting earlier, Corvino and Corbaccio. 5.8

to withstand

Mottoes accompanying symbolic engravings.

. As in Aesop’s fable; see 1.2.95—97 and note. . Violence was forbidden near the court. WN . The commendatore’s cap is decorated with

gold buttons.

VOLPONE

5.10

|

1081

VOLPONE [aside to Mosca] Upon ’em, Mosca; save me. corBAccio The air’s infected where he breathes. CORVINO Let's fly him. [Exeunt CORVINO and CORBACCIO.|

VOLPONE

Excellent basilisk!’ Turn upon the vulture. SCENE 9. The scene continues.

[Enter] VOLTORE. VOLTORE [to Mosca] Well, flesh fly, it is summer with you now; Your winter will come on.

MOSCA Good advocate, Pray thee not rail, nor threaten out of place® thus; Thou'lt make a solecism,° as madam says. Get you a biggin' more; your brain breaks loose. VOLTORE

Well, sir.

unsuitably (see 4.2.43)

[Exit MOSCA. |

VOLPONE Would you ha’ me beat the insolent slave? Throw dirt upon his first good clothes? VOLTORE

This same?

the disguised Volpone

Is doubtless some familiar!° VOLPONE

attendant devil Sir, the court,

In troth, stays for you. 1am mad?° a mule That never read Justinian’ should get up And ride an advocate. Had you no quirk° To avoid gullage,° sir, by such a creature? I hope you do but jest; he has not done't.

furious that trick deception

This’s but confederacy to blind the rest.°

Corvino and Corbaccio

You are the heir? VOLTORE A strange, officious, Troublesome knave! Thou dost torment me. VOLPONE I know— It cannot be, sir, that you should be cozened; ‘Tis not within the wit of man to do it. You are so wise, so prudent, and ’tis fit 20

That wealth and wisdom still should go together. [Exeunt.|

SCENE

10. The law court.

[Enter] four AVOCATORI, NOTARIO [NOTARY], COMMENDATORI, BONARIO [and] CELIA [under guard], corBACCIO, [and] CORVINO.

FIRST AVOCATORE Are all the parties here? NOTARY All but the advocate. SECOND AVOCATORE And here he comes. Then bring ‘em forth to sentence. FIRST AVOCATORE [Enter] vocrore, commendatore}.

[and] voLponeE [still disguised as a

5. A legendary monster whose breath and glance were deadly. 5.9 : 1. A larger skullcap (worn by lawyers).

2. The Roman law, codified under Emperor Justinian and still influential on the Continent. Lawyers traditionally rode mules to the courts; here the image is comically inverted.

1082

VOLTORE

vw

|

BEN

JONSON

O my most honored fathers, let your mercy

Once win upon? your justice, to forgive— I am distracted— VOLPONE (aside) | What will he do now? VOLTORE Oh,

prevail over

I know not which t’address myself to first, Whether Your Fatherhoods or these innocents°— Celia and Bonario coRVINO [aside] Will he betray himself? VOLTORE Whom equally I have abused, out of most covetous ends— CORVINO [aside to CORBACCIO] ‘The man is mad! CORBACCIO What’s that? CORVINO He is possessed. VOLTORE For which, now struck in conscience, here I prostrate

Myself at your offended feet for pardon. FIRST AND SECOND AVOCATORI CELIA VOLPONE [aside]

[He throws himself down.| Arise! O heav’n, how just thou art! I'm caught

I’ mine own noose— CORVINO [aside to CoRBACCIO]

Be constant, sir; naught now

Can help but impudence.

[VOLTORE rises.]

FIRST AVOCATORE [to VOLTORE] Speak forward.° COMMENDATORI [to the courtroom] Silence!

continue

VOLTORE It is not passion® in me, reverend fathers, But only conscience, conscience, my good sires, That makes me now tell truth. That parasite, That knave hath been the instrument of all. SECOND AVOCATORE Where is that knave? Fetch him.

madness

VOLPONE [as commendatore] CORVINO This man’s distracted; he confessed it now;°

Igo,

[Exit.] Grave fathers, just now

For, hoping to be old Volpone’s heir, Who now is dead— THIRD AVOCATORE How? SECOND AVOCATORE Is Volpone dead? coRVINO

Dead since,° grave fathers—

BONARIO FIRST AVOCATORE Then he was no deceiver? VOLTORE

since his appearance here

O sure vengeance! Stay. Oh, no, none.

The parasite, grave fathers. CORVINO He does speak

30

Out of mere envy, ‘cause the servant’s made The thing he gaped? for. Please Your Fatherhoods, This is the truth; though I'll not justify The other,’ but he may be somedeal? faulty. VOLTORE Ay, to your hopes as well as mine, Corvino; But I’ll use modesty.° Pleaseth Your Wisdoms

Voltore yearned Mosca / somewhat

self-control

VOUPR ONE

Sel

To view these certain notes, and but confer® them.

|

1083

compare

As I hope favor, they shall speak clear truth.

35

[He gives documents to the avocaTort.| The devil has entered him! CoRVINO BONARIO Or bides in you. FOURTH AVOCATORE We have done ill, by a public officer To send for him, if he be heir.

SECOND AVOCATORE For whom? FOURTH AVOCATORE Him that they call the parasite. THIRD AVOCATORE "Tis true; He is a man of great estate now left.° bequeathed to him 40

FOURTH AVOCATORE

[to NOTARY]

Go you and learn his name,

and say the court Entreats his presence here but to the clearing Of some few doubts. [Exit NOTARY. | SECOND AVOCATORE This same’s a labyrinth! FIRST AVOCATORE [to CORVINO] Stand you unto? your first — do you stand by report? CORVINO

My state,°

My life, my fame°—

estate reputation

BONARIO Where is’t?! CORVINO —are at the stake. FIRST AVOCATORE [to CORBACCIO] Is yours so too? a 45

CORBACCIO

The advocate’s a knave,

And has a forkéd tongue— SECOND AVOCATORE Speak to the point. CORBACCIO_ So is the parasite, too. FIRST AVOCATORE This is confusion. VOLTORE 50

I do beseech Your Fatherhoods, read but those.

corvINo’ And credit nothing the false spirit hath writ. It cannot be but he is possessed, grave fathers. [The AVOCATORI examine VOLTORE's papers.| SCENE

11. A street.!

[Enter] VOLPONE [on a separate part of the stage].

VOLPONE

‘To make a snare for mine own neck! And run

My head into it willfully! With laughter! When I had newly scaped, was free and clear! Out of mere wantonness!° Oh, the dull devil uw

caprice

Was in this brain of mine when I devised it,

And Mosca gave it second. He must now

Help to sear up® this vein, or we bleed dead. [Enter] NANO, ANDROGYNO,

cauterize

[and] CASTRONE.

How now, who let you loose? Whither go you now? What, to buy gingerbread? Or to drown kitlings?°

kittens

5.10 1. Implying that Corvino has nothing of worth

1. The courtroom characters remain visible onstage, perhaps in silent tableau, while Volpone

to lose. So

is understood to be outside.

10

1084

|

BEN

JONSON

NANO

Sir, Master Mosca called us out of doors,

And bid us all go play, and took the keys. ANDROGYNO Yes. VOLPONE Did Master Mosca take the keys? Why, so! I am farther in.° These are my fine conceits!° I must be merry, with a mischief to me!

in trouble / notions

What a vile wretch was I, that could not bear

My fortune soberly! I must ha’ my crotchets° And my conundrums! Well, go you and seek him. His meaning may be truer than my fear.? Bid him he straight come to me, to the court. 20

perverse whims

Thither will I, and, if’t be possible,

Unscrew° my advocate upon® new hopes. When I provoked him, then I lost myself.

dissuade / by means of

[Exeunt VOLPONE and his entourage.

The avocatori and parties to the courtroom proceedings remain onstage.|

SCENE

FIRST AVOCATORE

vi

12. The courtroom.

[with VOLTORE'’s notes]

These things can ne’er be

reconciled. He here Professeth that the gentleman® was wronged, And that the gentlewoman was brought thither, Forced by her husband, and there left. VOLTORE Most true. CELIA How ready is heav’n to those that pray! FIRST AVOCATORE But that Volpone would have ravished her, he holds Utterly false, knowing his impotence. CORVINO Grave fathers, he is possessed; again I say, Possessed. Nay, if there be possession

Bonario

And obsession, he has both. 10

THIRD AVOCATORE

Here comes our officer.

[Enter VOLPONE, still disguised.|

VOLPONE The parasite will straight be here, grave fathers. FOURTH AVOCATORE You might invent some other name, sir varlet. THIRD AVOCATORE Did not the notary meet him? VOLPONE Not that I know, FOURTH AVOCATORE — His coming will clear all. SECOND AVOCATORE Yet it is misty. VOLTORE May’t please Your Fatherhoods— VOLPONE (whispers [to] the advocate) Sir, the parasite Willed me to tell you that his master lives, That you are still the man, your hopes the same; And this was only a jest— VOLTORE [aside to VOLPONE]

How?

VOLPONE [aside to VOLTORE] Sir, to try If you were firm, and how you stood affected.° 2. Mosca’s intentions may be truer (more loyal) than my fear is true (accurate),

how loyal you were

VORPONE

VOLTORE

|

1085

Art sure he lives?

VOLPONE 20

5).12

Do | live,? sir?

he's as alive as | am

VOLTORE Oh, me! I was too violent. VOLPONE Sir, you may redeem it. They said you were possessed; fall down, and seem so. I'll help to make it good. VOLTORE falls. [Aloud| God bless the man!

[Aside to voLTorE] Stop your wind hard, and swell.! [Aloud] See, see, see, see! He vomits crooked pins! His eyes are set Like a dead hare’s hung in a poulter’s? shop! His mouth’s running away!° [to CoRVINO] Do you see, signor?

twitching spasmodically

Now ‘tis in his belly. CORVINO Ay, the devil! VOLPONE Now in his throat. CORVINO Ay, I perceive it plain. 30

VOLPONE

‘Twill out, ‘twill out! Stand clear. See where it flies,

In shape of a blue toad with a bat’s wings! [To corBACccIO] Do not you see it, sir? CORBACCIO What? I think I do. CORVINO "Tis too manifest. VOLPONE Look! He comes t’ himself! VOLTORE Where am I? VOLPONE Take good heart; the worst is past, sir. You are dispossessed. FIRST AVOCATORE What accident? is this? unforeseen event SECOND AVOCATORE Sudden, and full of wonder! THIRD AVOCATORE If he were Possessed, as it appears, all this° is nothing. Voltore’s written statement corvino He has been often subject to these fits.

40

FIRST AVOCATORE Show him that writing. [To voLToRE] Do you know it, sir? VOLPONE [aside to voLTORE] Deny it, sir; forswear it; know it not. VOLTORE Yes, I do know it well, it is my hand;

But all that it contains is false. BONARIO Oh, practice!® SECOND AVOCATORE What maze is this! FIRST AVOCATORE Is he not guilty, then, Whom you there name the parasite? VOLTORE 45

deception

Grave fathers,

No more than his good patron, old Volpone. FOURTH AVOCATORE Why, he is dead! VOLTORE

Oh, no, my honored fathers.

He lives— 5.12 1. The details of Voltore’s dispossession in the following lines resemble the fake exorcisms described in Samuel Harsnett’s lively exposé, A

Discovery of the Fraudulent Practices of John Darrell (1599). “Stop your wind”: hold your breath, 2. Seller of poultry and small game.

1086

|

BEN

JONSON

FIRST AVOCATORE VOLTORE

How! Lives?

Lives.

SECOND AVOCATORE

This is subtler yet!

THIRD AVOCATORE [to VOLTORE| VOLTORE THIRD AVOCATORE [to CORVINO] CORVINO

FOURTH AVOCATORE

You said he was dead? Never. You said so? I heard so.

Here comes the gentleman; make him way.

[Enter MOSCA.| 50

THIRD AVOCATORE A stool! FOURTH AVOCATORE [aside] A proper® man! And, were Volpone

handsome

dead,

A fit match for my daughter. THIRD AVOCATORE Give him way. VOLPONE [aside to Mosca] Mosca, I was almost lost; the advocate Had betrayed all; but now it is recovered.

All’s o’'the hinge® again. Say I am living. 55

Mosca [aloud] fathers,

running smoothly

What busy° knave is this? Most reverend

troublesome

I sooner had attended your grave pleasures, But that my order for the funeral Of my dear patron did require me— VOLPONE (aside)

moscA_

VOLPONE [aside] 60

Mosca!

Whom | intend to bury like a gentleman. Ay, quick,° and cozen me of all.’

SECOND AVOCATORE

alive

Still stranger!

More intricate!

FIRST AVOCATORE

And come about? again!

FOURTH AVOCATORE [aside]

Mosca [aside to VOLPONE]

reversing direction

It is a match; my daughter is bestowed.

Will you gi’ me half?

VOLPONE [aside to Mosca] MOSCA [aside to VOLPONE|

First, Pll be. hanged.

I know

Your voice is good. Cry not so loud. FIRST AVOCATORE Demand? 65

question

The advocate. [To voLTorE] Sir, did not you affirm

Volpone was alive? VOLPONE Yes, and he is; This gent’man told me so. (Aside to Mosca) Thou shalt have half. mosca_ Whose drunkard is this same? Speak, some that know him; I never saw his face. (Aside to VoLPONE) I cannot now

Afford it you so cheap. VOLPONE (aside to Mosca)

No?

FIRST AVOCATORE [to VOLTORE] VOLTORE The officer told me.

What say you?

VOLPONE I did, grave fathers, And will maintain he lives with mine own life, And that this creature® told me. (aside) I was born

Mosca

3. Volpone sees that Mosca’s pious pretense of burying the “dead” Volpone will mean an end to all of Volpone’s hopes; he'll be cheated out of everything.

VOLPONE

75

With all good stars my enemies. MOSCA Most grave fathers, If such an insolence as this must pass°

5.12

|

1087

be permitted

Upon me, I am silent. "Twas not this

For which you sent, I hope. SECOND AVOCATORE [pointing to VOLPONE] VOLPONE (aside to MOSCA)

80

Take him away.

Mosca!

THIRD AVOCATORE Let him be whipped. VOLPONE (aside to MOSCA) Wilt thou betray me? Cozen me? THIRD AVOCATORE And taught to bear himself Toward a person of his® rank. Mosca's FOURTH AVOCATORE Away! [Officers seize VOLPONE.| Mosca _ | humbly thank Your Fatherhoods. VOLPONE And lose all that I have? If I confess,

Soft, soft. [Aside] Whipped?

It cannot be much more. FOURTH AVOCATORE [to MosCcA] _ Sir, are you married? VOLPONE [aside] They'll be allied° anon; I must be resolute. linked by marriage

The fox shall here uncase.° He puts off his disguise. 85

MOSCA (aside) VOLPONE

reveal himself

Patron!

Nay, now

My ruins shall not come alone. Your match I'll hinder sure; my substance shall not glue you Nor screw you into a family. MOSCA (aside)

VOLPONE 90

Why, patron!

[| am Volpone, and [pointing to Mosca] this is my knave;

[Pointing to voLtorE] This his own knave; [pointing to CORBACCIO] this, avarice’s fool; [Pointing to CoRVINO] This, a chimera?® of wittol, monstrous combination fool, and knave; And, reverend fathers, since we all can hope Naught but a sentence, let’s not now despair it.° he disappointed (ironic) You hear me brief.°

that’s all I have to say

CORVINO May it please Your Fatherhoods— COMMENDATORE* Silence! FIRST AVOCATORE The knot is now undone by miracle! SECOND AVOCATORE Nothing can be more clear. THIRD AVOCATORE Or can more prove These innocent. FIRST AVOCATORE Give ’em their liberty. [BONARIO and CELIA are released.|

100

BONARIO Heaven could not long let such gross crimes be hid. SECOND AVOCATORE | If this be held the highway to get riches, May I be poor! THIRD AVOCATORE This’s not the gain, but torment. FIRST AVOCATORE These possess wealth as sick men possess fevers, 4. Not Volpone, of course, but one of the genuine Commendatori. They are probably the officers who strip Mosca at line 103.

1088

|

BEN

JONSON

Which trulier may be said to possess them. SECOND AVOCATORE _ Disrobe that parasite. [Mosca is stripped of his clarissimo’s robe.| CORVINO [and] MOSCA

Most honored fathers!

FIRST AVOCATORE Can you plead aught to stay the course ofjustice? If you can, speak. CORVINO [and] voLToRE 105

We beg favor—

CELIA And mercy. FIRST AVOCATORE [to CELIA] You hurt your innocence, suing® for the guilty. [To the others] Stand forth; and, first, the parasite. You appear

pleading

T’have been the chiefest minister,° if not plotter, 110

| 5

agent

In all these lewd? impostures, and now, lastly, Have with your impudence abused the court And habit® of a gentleman of Venice, Being a fellow of no birth or blood; For which our sentence is, first thou be whipped, Then live perpetual prisoner in our galleys. VOLPONE | thank you for him. MOSCA Bane to° thy wolfish nature! FIRST AVOCATORE

vile, obscene garb

curses on

Deliver him to the safft.° [Mosca is placed

under guard.] Thou, Volpone, By blood and rank a gentleman, canst not fall Under like censure;° but our judgment on thee Is that thy substance?® all be straight confiscate To the hospital of the Incurabili;? And since the most was gotten by imposture, By feigning lame, gout, palsy, and such diseases, Thou art to lie in prison, cramped with irons, Till thou be’st sick and lame indeed.—Remove him.

bailiffs

the same sentence wealth

[VOLPONE is placed under guard.|

VOLPONE This is called mortifying® of a fox. FIRST AVOCATORE ‘Thou, Voltore, to take away the scandal Thou hast giv’n all worthy men of thy profession, Art banished from their fellowship and our state.° [VOLTORE is placed under guard.| Corbaccio—bring him near.—We here possess Thy son of all thy state,° and confine thee To the monastery of San’ Spirito,° Where, since thou knew’st not how to live well here, Thou shalt be learned? to die well. CORBACCIO Ha! What said he? COMMENDATORE

You shall know anon,° sir.

[coRBACCIO is placed under guard.| FIRST AVOCATORE 135

Venice estate the Holy Spirit taught soon enough

Thou, Corvino, shalt

Be straight embarked from thine own house and rowed 5. The Hospital of the Incurables was founded in Venice in 1522 to care for people terminally ill with syphilis. 6. (1) Hanging of meat to make it tender; (2)

disciplining spiritually; (3) killing. (Volpone’s sentence is almost certain to bring about his death.)

TO

Bound about Venice, through the Grand Canal, Wearing a cap with fair® long ass’s ears Instead of horns, and so to mount, a paper Pinned on thy breast, to the berlino’—

BOOK

|

1089

handsome; clearly visible

Yes,

CORVINO 140

MY

And have mine eyes beat out with stinking fish, Bruised fruit, and rotten eggs—'Tis well. I’m glad I shall not see my shame yet. FIRST AVOCATORE And to expiate Thy wrongs done to thy wife, thou art to send her Home to her father with her dowry trebled.® And these are all your judgments— ALL Honored fathers! FIRST AVOCATORE Which may not be revoked. Now you begin, When crimes are done and past and to be punished, To think what your crimes are.—Away with them! [MOSCA, VOLPONE, VOLTORE, CORBACCIO, and CORVINO retire to the back of the stage, guarded.|° Let all that see these vices thus rewarded Take heart,° and love to study ‘em. Mischiefs feed take

them to heart

Like beasts, till they be fat, and then they bleed. [The avocarort step back.| [VOLPONE comes forward. |

The seasoning Now, though the fox be He yet doth hope there Nor any fact°® which he

VOLPONE

of a play is the applause punished by the laws, is no suff’ring due hath done ‘gainst you.

crime

If there be, censure him; here he, doubtful,° stands. [Exeunt.| If not, fare jovially, and clap your hands.

performed 1606

apprehensive

published 1616

From EpicraAms!

To My Book It will be looked for, book, when some but see

Thy title, Epigrams, and named of me, 7. Pillory. Versions of such shaming punishments were commonly imposed for sexual and marital infractions. The offender typically had to wear a placard specifying his crimes; hence the paper pinned on Corvino’s breast. 8. The judges grant Celia “separation from bed and board.” Such legal separations could be permitted to the innocent party in a case of adultery or, as here, to a victim of gross spousal abuse. Because legal separation entailed the finding of serious fault, the guilty spouse could also, as here, be forced to pay financial damages. Legal separation did not bring with it, however, the right of remarriage for either party. 9. Alternatively, the prisoners, and later the

Avocatori and the others, could exit, and Volpone could return to speak the epilogue. The advantage of the staging preferred here is that almost all the players are onstage to receive the audience's applause. 1. Epigrams are commonly thought of as brief, witty, incisive poems of personal invective, often with a surprise turn at the end. But Jonson uses the word in a more liberal sense. His “Epigrams,” a separate section in his collected Works of 1616, include not only sharp, satiric poems but many complimentary ones to friends and patrons, as well as memorial epitaphs and a verse letter, “Inviting a Friend to Supper.”

1090

|

BEN

JONSON

Thou should’st be bold, licentious, full of gall, wi

Wormwood? and sulphur, sharp and toothed? withal, Become a petulant thing, hurl ink and wit As madmen stones, not caring whom they hit.

bitter-tasting plant

Deceive their malice who could wish it so,

And by thy wiser temper let men know

10

Thou art not covetous of least self-fame Made from the hazard of another’s shame*>— Much less with lewd, profane, and beastly phrase To catch the world’s loose laughter or vain gaze. He that departs° with his own honesty For vulgar praise, doth it too dearly buy.

parts 1616

On Something, That Walks Somewhere At court I met it, in clothes brave? enough To be a courtier, and looks grave enough To seem

a statesman:

fine

as | near it came,

It made me a great face. I asked the name. Vi

“A lord,” it cried, “buried in flesh and blood,

And such from whom let no man hope least good, For I will do none; and as little ill, For I will dare none.” Good lord, walk dead still.

1616

To William Camden! Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe All that I am in arts, all that I know

Vi

(How nothing’s that!), to whom my country owes The great renown and name wherewith she goes;” Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave, More high, more holy, that she more would crave.

What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things! What sight in searching the most antique springs! What weight and what authority in thy speech! 10

Man scarce can make that doubt, but? thou canst teach.

Pardon free truth and let thy modesty, Which conquers all, be once o’ercome by thee.

2. The distinction between toothed (biting) and toothless (general) satires was a commonplace. 3. Here, as often elsewhere, Jonson echoes the

greatest Roman epigrammatist, Martial.

1. Camden, a distinguished scholar and antiquary, had been Jonson's teacher at Westminster

School. 2. Camden’s studies of his native land in Britan-

nia (1586) and Remains of aGreater Work Concerning Britain (1605) ran to several editions and

were translated abroad.

3. One hardly needs wonder whether.

ON

GILES

AND

JOAN

Many of thine® this better could than I; But for° their powers, accept my piety.

|

1091

your pupils in place of

1616

On My First Daughter! Here lies, to each her parents’ ruth,°

grief

Mary, the daughter of their youth; Yet all heaven’s gifts being heaven's due, It makes the father less to rue.° At six months’ end she parted hence

uv

regret

With safety of her innocence; Whose soul heaven's queen,°? whose name she bears, In comfort of her mother’s tears,

Mary

Hath placed amongst her virgin-train: 10

Where, while that severed doth remain,

This grave partakes the fleshly birth;° Which cover lightly, gentle earth!?

the body 1616

To John Donne Donne, the delight of Phoebus? and each Muse, _ god of poetry Who, to thy one, all other brains refuse;!

VI

Whose every work, of thy most early wit, Came forth example? and remains so yet; Longer a-knowing than most wits do live, And which no affection praise enough can give. To it? thy language, letters, arts, best life,

Which might with half mankind maintain a strife. All which I meant to praise, and yet I would, io

But leave, because I cannot as I should.

1616

On Giles and Joan

s

Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be? Th’ observing neighbors no such mood can see. Indeed, poor Giles repents he married ever, But that his Joan doth too. And Giles would never By his free will be in Joan’s company; No more would Joan he should. Giles riseth early,

1. Probably written in the late 1590s, in Jonson’s Roman Catholic period (ca. 1598-1610). 2. A common sentiment in Latin epitaphs. 1. I.e., the muses shower their favors exclusively

on you. 2. A pattern for others to imitate. 3. In addition to your wit.

1092

|

BEN

JONSON

And having got him out of doors is glad; The like is Joan. But turning home is sad,

And so is Joan. Ofttimes, when Giles doth find Harsh sights at home, Giles wisheth he were blind: All this doth Joan. Or that his long-yearned' life

10

Were quite outspun. The like wish hath his wife. The children that he keeps Giles swears are none Of his begetting; and so swears his Joan. is

In all affections® she concurreth still. If now, with man and wife, to will and nill®

desires not will

The self-same things a note of concord be, I know no couple better can agree. 1616

On My First Son

wn

Farewell, thou child of my right hand,! and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O could I lose all father now! For why Will man lament the state he should envy, To have so soon ‘scaped world’s and flesh’s rage, And, if no other misery, yet age? Rest in soft peace, and asked, say, “Here doth lie

10

Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry.” For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such As what he loves may never like too much.* 1616

On Lucy, Countess of Bedford! This morning, timely rapt with holy fire, I thought to form unto my zealous muse, What kind of creature I could most desire, wi)

To honor, serve, and love; as poets use.” I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise, Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great; I meant the day-star® should not brighter rise,

1. Spun from long skeins of yarn. 1. A literal translation of the Hebrew name “Benjamin,” which implies the meaning “dexterous” or “fortunate.” The boy was born in 1596 and died on his birthday in 1603. 2. Poet and father are both “makers,” Jonson’s favorite term for the poet. 3. The obscure grammar of the last lines allows for various readings; “like” may carry the sense

of “please.” 1. Lucy Russell,

countess

famous

of the age, to whom

patroness

of Bedford,

the sun

was

a

Jonson,

Donne, and many other poets addressed poems of compliment. 2. This elegant epigram of praise plays off against the Pygmalion story, in which the sculptor molds a statue of his ideal woman and she then comes to life.

TO

SIR

THOMAS

ROE

|

Nor lend like influence? from his lucent seat. I meant she should be courteous, facile,’ sweet,

10

1093

affable

Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride; I meant each softest virtue, there should meet,

Fit in that softer bosom to reside. Only a learnéd, and a manly soul I purposed her; that should, with even powers, 1s.

The rock, the spindle, and the shears* control

Of destiny, and spin her own free hours. Such when I meant to feign, and wished to see, My muse bad,° Bedford write, and that was she.

bade 1616

To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with Mr. Donne’s Satires! Lucy, you brightness? of our sphere, who are Life of the Muses’ day, their morning star! If works, not th’ authors, their own grace should look,°

have regard to

Whose poems would not wish to be your book? s

But these, desired by you, the maker’s ends

Crown with their own. Rare poems ask rare friends. Yet satires, since the most of mankind be

Their unavoided® subject, fewest see: For none e’er took that pleasure in sin’s sense,° 10

1s

inevitable experience

But, when they heard it taxed, took more offense.

They then that, living where the matter is bred,* Dare for these poems yet both ask and read And like them too, must needfully, though few, Be of the best: and ’mongst those, best are you; Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are The Muses’ evening, as their morning star.’ 1616

To Sir Thomas Roe! Thou hast begun well, Roe, which stand? well too,

continue

And I know nothing more thou hast to do. 3. Stars were supposed to emit an ethereal fluid, or “influence,” that affected the affairs of mortals, for good or ill.

4. Emblems of the three Fates: Clotho spun the thread of life, Lachesis decided its length, and Atropos cut the thread to end life. 1. With this poem, Jonson offered a manuscript collection of Donne’s satires (see pp. 944-47),

such as commonly passed from hand to hand in court circles.

2. Lucy’s

name

derives

from

the

Latin

lux,

meaning “light.” 3. L.e., at court.

4. The planet Venus is called Lucifer (“lightbearing”) when it appears before sunrise, Hesperus when it appears after sunset. 1. Knighted in 1605, Roe was sent as ambassador to the Great Mogul in 1614. His collection of coins and of Greek and Oriental manuscripts is in the Bodleian Library.

1094

|

BEN

JONSON

He that is round® within himself, and straight, Need seek no other strength, no other height; wi

honest

Fortune upon him breaks herself, if ill,

And what should hurt his virtue makes it still.° That thou at once, then, nobly may’st defend With thine own course the judgment of thy friend, Be always to thy gathered self the same, And study conscience, more than thou wouldst fame. Though both be good, the latter yet is worst, And ever is ill got without the first.

constant

1616

Inviting a Friend to Supper Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house and I Do equally desire your company: Not that we think us worthy such a guest, But that your worth will dignify our feast With those that come; whose grace may make that seem Something, which else could hope for no esteem. It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates

The entertainment perfect: not the cates.° Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,

food

An olive, capers, or some better salad

Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen, If we can get her, full of eggs, and then Lemons and wine for sauce; to® these, a coney®

Is not to be despaired of for our money; And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,° The sky not falling, think we may have larks. I'll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come: Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some May yet be there; and godwit if we can, 20

Knot, rail, and ruff, too.! Howsoe’er, my man®

besides / rabbit

scholars

servant

Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus, Livy, or of some better book to us, Of which we'll speak our minds amidst our meat;° _food (of any kind) And Ill profess° no verses to repeat: promise To this,° if aught appear which I not know of, on this point That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.? Digestive cheese and fruit there sure will be; But that which most doth take my muse and me Is a pure cup of rich canary wine, 30

Which is the Mermaid’s now, but shall be mine; Of which, had Horace or Anacreon? tasted,

1. All these are edible birds. 2. Paper-lined pans were used to keep pies from sticking; the writing sometimes rubbed off on the piecrust. 3. Horace and Anacreon (one in Latin, the other

in Greek) wrote many poems in praise of wine. The Mermaid tavern was a favorite haunt of the poets; sweet wine from the Canary Islands was popular in England.

EPITAPH

© iN

Si)

JR:

|

LOSS

Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.

35

40

Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring Are all but Luther’s beer to this I sing.4 Of this we will sup free but moderately, And we will have no Pooly or Parrot? by; Nor shall our cups make any guilty men, But at our parting we will be as when We innocently met. No simple word That shall be uttered at our mirthful board Shall make us sad next morning, or affright The liberty that we'll enjoy tonight. 1616

On Gut Gut eats all day, and lechers all the night, So all his meat he tasteth over twice;

And striving so to double his delight, He makes himself a thoroughfare of vice. Thus in his belly can he change a sin: Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in.

s

1616

Epitaph on S. P., a Child of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel!

s

10

Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know for whom a tear you shed, Death’s self is sorry. "Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature. Years he numbered scarce thirteen When Fates turned cruel,

Yet three filled zodiacs had he been The stage’s jewel,” And did act (what now we moan)

is

Old men so duly,° As, sooth,° the Parcae® thought him one, He played so truly.

4. Tobacco was an expensive New World novelty in Jonson’s time. Nectar is the drink of the gods. The Thespian spring, on Mount Helicon, is a legendary source of poetic inspiration. Compared with canary, these intoxicants are no better than inferior German beer. 5. Pooly and Parrot were government spies. As a

aptly in truth /Fates

Roman Catholic, Jonson had reason to be wary of undercover agents. 1. Salomon Pavy, a boy actor in the troupe known as the Children of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel, who had appeared in several of Jonson’s plays; he died in 1602. 2. He had been on the stage for three seasons.

1096

|

BEN

JONSON

So, by error, to his fate They all consented; But, viewing him since (alas, too late),

20

They have repented, And have sought (to give new birth) In baths? to steep him; But, being so much too good for earth, Heaven vows to keep him. 1616

From THE Forest! To Penshurst? Thou art not, Penshurst, built to envious show, Of touch? or marble; nor canst boast a row

Of polished pillars, or a roof of gold; s

cupola edifice

Thou hast no lantern® whereof tales are told, Orstair, or courts; but stand’st an ancient pile,°

And, these grudged at,’ art reverenced the while. Thou joy’st in better marks, of soil, of air, Of wood, of water; therein thou art fair. Thou hast thy walks for health, as well as sport;

10

Thy mount, to which the dryads? do resort, Where Pan and Bacchus their high feasts have made,

wood nymphs

Beneath the broad beech and the chestnut shade; That taller tree, which of a nut was set

At his great birth where all the Muses met.’ is

There in the writhéd bark are cut the names Of many a sylvan,° taken with his flames; And thence the ruddy satyrs oft provoke

The lighter fauns® to reach thy Lady’s Oak.’ Thy copse® too, named of Gamage® thou hast there, 20

countryman

little woods

That never fails to serve thee seasoned deer

When thou wouldst feast or exercise thy friends. The lower land, that to the river bends, Thy sheep, thy bullocks, kine,° and calves do feed;

cattle

The middle grounds thy mares and horses breed. 25

Each bank doth yield thee conies;° and the tops,°

3. Perhaps such magic baths as that of Medea, which restored Jason’s father to his first youth (Ovid, Metamorphoses 7).

1. In the 1616 Works, Jonson grouped some of his nonepigrammatic poems under the heading “The Forest,” a translation of the term Sylvae, meaning a poetic miscellany. “To Penshurst” and the two following poems are from that group. 2. Penshurst, in Kent, was the estate of Robert Sidney, Viscount

Lisle (later, earl of Leicester),

a younger brother of the poet Sir Philip Sidney. Along with Lanyer’s “The Description of Cookham”

(pp. 986—90), this poem inaugurated the small

rabbits / high ground

genre of English “country-house” poems, which includes Carew’s “To Saxham” (pp. 1323-25) and Marvell’s Upon Appleton House (pp. 1361-83).

3. Touchstone, an expensive black basalt. 4. More pretentious houses attract envy.

5. Sir Philip Sidney was born at Penshurst. 6. Satyrs and fauns were woodland spirits. Satyrs had the bodies of men and the legs (and horns) of goats. “Provoke”: challenge to a race. 7. Named after a lady of the house who went into labor under its branches. 8. Lady Barbara (Gamage) Sidney, wife of Sir Robert.

LOT

30

35

40

45

PENSIHiHUR SE,

Fertile of wood, Ashore and Sidney's copse, To crown thy open table, doth provide The purpled pheasant with the speckled side; The painted partridge lies in every field, And for thy mess? is willing to be killed. And if the high-swollen Medway? fail thy dish, Thou hast thy ponds, that pay thee tribute fish: Fat aged carps that run into thy net, And pikes, now weary their own kind to eat, As loath the second draft or cast to stay, Officiously° at first themselves betray; Bright eels that emulate them, and leap on land Before the fisher, or into his hand. Then hath thy orchard fruit, thy garden flowers,

|

1097

table

dutifully

Fresh as the air, and new as are the hours. The early cherry, with the later plum,

Fig, grape, and quince, each in his time doth come; The blushing apricot and woolly peach Hang on thy walls, that every child may reach. And though thy walls be of the country stone, They're reared with no man’s ruin, no man’s groan; There’s none that dwell about them wish them down; But all come in, the farmer and the clown,°

peasant

And no one empty-handed, to salute Thy lord and lady, though they have no suit.° request to make Some bring a capon, some a rural cake, Some nuts, some apples; some that think they make The better cheeses bring them, or else send By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend This way to husbands, and whose baskets bear An emblem of themselves in plum or pear. But what can this (more than express their love)

60

Add to thy free provisions, far above The need of such? whose liberal board doth flow With all that hospitality doth know; Where comes no guest but is allowed to eat, Without his fear, and of thy lord’s own meat;°

food

Where the same beer and bread, and selfsame wine, 65

70

That is his lordship’s shall be also mine,' And I not fain to sit (as some this day At great men’s tables), and yet dine away. Here no man tells° my cups; nor, standing by, A waiter doth my gluttony envy,° But gives me what I call, and lets me eat; He knows

below? he shall find plenty of meat.

counts resent

in the servants’ quarters

Thy tables hoard not up for the next day; Nor, when I take my lodging, need I pray For fire, or lights, or livery;° all is there, As if thou then wert mine, or I reigned here:

9. The local river.

1. Different courses might be served to different

provisions

guests, depending on their social status. The lord would have the best food.

1098

75

80

|

BEN

JONSON

There's nothing I can wish, for which I stay.° wait That found King James when, hunting late this way With his brave son, the Prince,’ they saw thy fires Shine bright on every hearth, as the desires Of thy Penates® had been set on flame Roman household gods To entertain them; or the country came With all their zeal to warm their welcome here. What (great I will not say, but) sudden cheer

ss

Didst thou then make ’em! And what praise was heaped On thy good lady then, who therein reaped ‘The just reward of her high housewifery; To have her linen, plate, and all things nigh, When she was far; and not a room but dressed

As if it had expected such a guest! 90

These, Penshurst, are thy praise, and yet not all. Thy lady’s noble, fruitful, chaste withal.

His children thy great lord may call his own, A fortune in this age but rarely known. They are, and have been, taught religion; thence

95

100

Their gentler spirits have sucked innocence. Each morn and even they are taught to pray, With the whole household, and may, every day, Read in their virtuous parents’ noble parts° The mysteries of manners,° arms, and arts. Now, Penshurst, they that will proportion® thee With other edifices, when they see Those proud, ambitious heaps, and nothing else, May say, their lords have built, but thy lord dwells.

attributes moral behavior compare

1616

Song: To Celia!

s

10

Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And Ill not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine: But might I of Jove’s nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee, As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be. But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent’st it back to me;

2. Prince Henry, the heir apparent, who died in November 1612. 1, These famous lines translate a patchwork of five separate prose passages by Philostratus, a

Greek sophist (3rd century c.£.). The music that has made it a barroom favorite is by an anonymous 18th-century composer.

A CELEBRATION

15

OF

CHARIS

|

1099

Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee. 1616

To Heaven Good and great God, can | not think of thee

But it must straight° my melancholy be? Is it interpreted in me disease uw

immediately

That, laden with my sins, I seek for ease? Oh, be thou witness, that the reins! dost know And hearts of all, if 1be sad for show,

And judge me after, if I dare pretend To aught but grace, or aim at other end. 10

As thou art all, so be thou all to me, First, midst, and last, converted® one and three, interchanging

My faith, my hope, my love; and in this state, My judge, my witness, and my advocate. Where have I been this while exiled from thee,

And whither rapt,° now thou but stoop’st to me? is

Dwell, dwell here still:° Oh, being everywhere,

carried off always

How can I doubt to find thee ever here? I know my state, both full of shame and scorn,

20

Conceived in sin and unto labor born, Standing with fear, and must with horror fall, And destined unto judgment after all. I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh to inflict another wound.

Yet dare I not complain or wish for death With holy Paul,” lest it be thought the breath

25

Of discontent; or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love of thee. 1616

From UnpERwoop!

From A Celebration of Charis in Ten Lyric Pieces? 4. Her Triumph? See the chariot at hand here of Love,

Wherein my lady rideth! 1. Literally,

kidneys,

but also the seat

of the

affections, with a glance at Psalm 7.9: “the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins.” 2. “Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” (Romans 7.24).

1. Preparing a second edition of his Works (published posthumously in 1640-41), Jonson added a third section of poems,

“Underwood,”

“out of

the analogy they hold to The Forest in my former

book.” 2. The Greek word charis, from which Jonson’s lady takes her name, means “grace” or “loveliness.” 3. Following Petrarch, many Renaissance poets used the figure of the triumphal procession to celebrate a person or concept—time, chastity, fame, etc. Metrically, this poem is highly complex.

BEN

1100

JONSON

Each that draws is a swan or a dove,*

And well the car Love guideth. As she goes, all hearts do duty Unto her beauty;

And enamored do wish, so they might But enjoy such a sight, That they still? were to run by her side, Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. Do but look on her eyes, they do light All that Love’s world compriseth! Do but look on her hair, it is bright As Love’s star® when it riseth!

always

Venus, the morning star

Do but mark,° her forehead’s smoother

observe

Than words that soothe her! And from her archéd brows, such a grace Sheds itself through the face, As alone there triumphs to the life All the gain, all the good, of the elements’ strife.’

20

Have you seen but a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have touched it?

Have you marked but the fall o’ the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool o’ the beaver, Or swan’s down ever? Or have smelt o’ the bud o’ the briar, Or the nard° i’ the fire?

Or have tasted the bag o’ the bee? O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!

30

1640-41

A Sonnet, to the Noble Lady, the Lady Mary Wroth' I that have been a lover, and could show it,

Though not in these,° in rhymes not wholly dumb,

wa

Since I exscribe® your sonnets, am become A better lover, and much better poet. Nor is my muse, or I, ashamed to owe it

in sonnets

copy out

To those true numerous graces; whereof some But charm the senses, others overcome Both brains and hearts; and mine now best do know it: niece of Sir Philip Sidney and the countess of

4. Venus’s birds. 5. The four elements—earth,

water,

air, fire—

Pembroke; she was the wife of Sir Robert Wroth,

were thought to be in perpetual conflict. 6. Spikenard, an aromatic ointment.

whose country estate Jonson also praised in “The Forest.” The poem exhibits how poems were

1. Mary Wroth,

sequence

exchanged within a coterie, though Jonson also

Pamphilia to Amphilanthus (pp. 1116-21) and the romance The Countess of Montgomery's Urania (pp. 1112-16), was the daughter of Robert Sidney and his wife, Barbara Gamage, of Penshurst, the

writes as a client to a patron. This is Jonson’s only

author of the sonnet

sonnet,

used

here

to

pay

tribute

to

sequence, and notably to its erotic power.

Wroth’s

THE

ODE

ON

CARY

AND

MORISON

|

1101

For in your verse all Cupid’s armory, 10

His flames, his shafts, his quiver, and his bow, His very eyes are yours to overthrow.

But then his mother’s® sweets you so apply,

Venus's

Her joys, her smiles, her loves, as readers take

For Venus’ ceston,* every line you make. 1640-41

My Picture Left in Scotland! I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,

5

10

15

For else it could not be That she Whom | adore so much should so slight me And cast my love behind; I’m sure my language to her was as sweet, And every close® did meet In sentence? of as subtle feet,° As hath the youngest he That sits in shadow of Apollo’s tree.’

cadence wise sayings /rhythm

O, but my conscious fears That fly my thoughts between, Tell me that she hath seen My hundreds of gray hairs, Told° seven and forty years, Read so much waist? as she cannot embrace My mountain belly and my rocky face; And all these through her eyes have stopped her ears.

1619

counted

1640-41

The Ode on Cary and Morison The ode, originally a classical form, is a lyric poem in an elevated style, celebrating a lofty theme, a noble personage, or a grand occasion. The Greek poet Pindar wrote many odes for winners of the Olympic games, known as Great Odes because of their exalted subject and style. Later, the Roman poet Horace wrote more restrained poems that came to be known as Lesser Odes. Jonson's Cary-Morison ode comes closer than any other in the language to the lofty style and manner of Pindar, while his “To Penshurst” is in the Horatian style, as is, later, Mar-

vell’s “Horatian Ode upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland.” Pindar’s odes were designed to be sung by a chorus and often followed a threepart scheme: the chorus moved in one direction while chanting the strophe, reversed direction for the antistrophe, and stood still for the epode. Jonson imitates 2. Venus’s girdle or belt, which had aphrodisiacal powers; it aroused passion in all beholders. 1. After his walking tour of Scotland in 1618— 19, Jonson

sent a manuscript

version

of this

poem to William Drummond, with whom he had stayed. The woman of the poem may or may not

be a real person. 2. Bay laurel, the tree associated with Apollo, god of poetry. 3. With a pun on “waste,” meaning “untillable

ground.”

BEN

AMO

JONSON

this pattern with his triple division of “turn,” “counterturn,” and “stand”—the terms

more or less literally translated from the original Greek. His turns and counterturns rhyme in couplets, with line lengths varying in all stanzas according to a uniform scheme; the twelve-line stands follow a more complex but equally strict design. He imitates Pindar also in his moral generalizations and lofty but impersonal praise of the two noble friends. Later in the century, under the influence of Abraham Cowley and under a misapprehension about Pindar’s style, odes became more extravagant, more vehement in tone, and more irregular in form.

To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison! The Turn Brave infant of Saguntum,? clear® Thy coming forth in that great year When the prodigious Hannibal did crown His rage, with razing your immortal town. Thou, looking then about Ere thou wert half got out, Wise child, didst hastily return And mad’st thy mother’s womb thine urn.° How summed? a circle? didst thou leave mankind Of deepest lore, could we the center find!

explain

burial vessel

complete

The Counterturn

Did wiser nature draw thee back From out the horror of that sack, Where shame, faith, honor, and regard of right

Lay trampled on?—the deeds of death and night Urged, hurried forth, and hurled Upon th’ affrighted world? Sword, fire, and famine, with fell° fury met, And all on utmost ruin set: 20

frerce

As, could they but life’s miseries foresee, No doubt all infants would return like thee. The Stand

For what is life if measured by the space, Not by the act? Or masked man, if valued by his face,

Above his fact?° Here’s one outlived his peers 1. Henry Morison died in 1629 at the age of twenty. His good friend Lucius Cary (son of Elizabeth Cary, the author of Mariam) became the second Viscount Falkland. He was known for his

learning, and he died fighting for King Charles in the first years of the civil war.

deeds

2. Pliny the Elder, a Roman writer, tells the story

of an infant born while Sagunto, in Spain, was being assaulted by Hannibal; he dived back into his mother’s womb (setting a record for brevity of life) and was buried there. 3. Emblem of perfection.

THE

ODE

ON

CARY

AND

MORISON

|

1103

And told forth fourscore years: He vexéd time, and busied the whole state,

30

Troubled both foes and friends, But ever to no ends: What did this stirrer but die late?+ How well at twenty had he fall’n or stood!

For three of his four score, he did no good. The Turn

35

He? entered well, by virtuous parts,° Got up and thrived with honest arts: He purchased friends and fame and honors then,

qualities

And had his noble name advanced with men; But, weary of that flight,

He stooped in all men’s sight To sordid flatteries, acts of strife,

40

And sunk in that dead sea of life So deep, as he did then death’s waters sup; But that the cork of title buoyed him up. The Counterturn

Alas, but Morison fell young;— He never fell, thou fall’st,° my tongue. 4s

He stood, a soldier, to the last right end,

A perfect patriot and a noble friend,

50

But most a virtuous son. All offices® were done By him, so ample, full, and round In weight, in measure, number, sound, As, though his age imperfect might appear, His life was of humanity the sphere.

duties of life

The Stand Go now, and tell out® days summed up with fears,

55

count

And make them years; Produce thy mass of miseries on the stage To swell thine age;

Repeat of things a throng, To show thou hast been long, Not lived; for life doth her great actions spell,°

60

tell over

By what was done and wrought In season, and so brought

To light: her measures are, how well Each syllab’e° answered, and was formed how fair; These make the lines of life, and that’s her air.’ 4, Punning on “dilate,” meaning “talk endlessly.” 5. I.e., another man. 6. Slip, with a latent pun on Latin fallo, “to make a mistake.”

syllable

7. Life is a poem set to music; life’s “measures” are its metrical patterns as well as the standards by which it is judged.

1104

|

BEN

JONSON

The Turn

65

It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be,

70

Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:° A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.

withered

The Counterturn

75

Call, noble Lucius, then for wine,

And let thy looks with gladness shine: Accept this garland,° plant it on thy head, And think, nay, know, thy Morison’s not dead.

so

He leaped the present age, Possessed with holy rage,° To see that bright eternal day, Of which we priests and poets say Such truths as we expect for happy men, And there he lives with memory: and Ben

inspiration

The Stand

ss

Jonson, who sung this of him ere he went Himself to rest,

90

9

Or taste a part of that full joy he meant To have expressed In this bright asterism:° constellation Where it were friendship’s schism (Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry) To separate these twiLights, the Dioscuri,’ And keep the one half from his Harry. But fate doth so alternate the design, Whilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine. The Turn

100

And shine as you exalted Two names of friendship, Of hearts the union. And Made, or indentured,’ or The profits for a time.

8. Celebratory wreath; i.e., this poem. 9. The mythical Greek twins, Castor and Pollux,

the Dioscuri, were said to have exchanged places

are, but one star, those not by chance leased out t’ advance

contracted for

regularly, after Castor’s death, between earth and the underworld. They are the principal stars of the constellation Gemini (the twins)

QUEEN

105

AND

HUNTRESS

|

1105

No pleasures vain did chime Of rhymes or riots at your feasts, Orgies of drink, or feigned protests; But simple love of greatness and of good That knits brave minds and manners, more than blood. The Counterturn

uo

us

This made you first to know the why You liked, then after to apply That liking; and approach so one the tother,° Till either grew a portion of the other; Each styléd® by his end, The copy of his friend. You lived to be the great surnames And titles by which all made claims Unto the virtue: nothing perfect done, But as a Cary or a Morison.

other called

The Stand

120

And such a force the fair example had, As they that saw The good and durst not practice it, were glad ~=That such a law Was left yet to mankind; Where they might read and find Friendship in deed was written, not in words. And with the heart, not pen,

123

Of two so early°® men,

youthful

Whose lives! her rolls were, and records, Who, ere the first down blooméd on the chin

Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in. 1629

1640-41

Queen and Huntress! Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,

s

Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted® manner keep; Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright.

accustomed

; 1. Some texts read “lines.” 1. Also from Cynthia's Revels (4.3), this song is sung by Hesperus, the evening star, to Cynthia, or Diana, goddess of chastity and the moon—with whom Queen Elizabeth was constantly compared.

1106

|

BEN

JONSON

10

1s

Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose;* Cynthia’s shining orb was made Heaven to clear, when day did close. Bless us then with wishéd sight, Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever.

Thou that mak’st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright. 1600

To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, and What He Hath Left Us!

vi

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample® to thy book and fame, While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor muse can praise too much. ‘Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.° But these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For silliest® ignorance on these may light,

copious

admission simplest

Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;

10

is

Or blind affection, which doth ne’er advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin where it seemed to raise. These are as° some infamous bawd or whore Should praise a matron. What could hurt her more? But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,

as though

Above th’ ill fortune of them, or the need.

20

tM vi

I therefore will begin. Soul of the age! The applause! Delight! The wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further to make thee a room:? Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read and praise to give. That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses, I mean with great, but disproportioned® Muses; For, if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers, And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine,

2. Eclipses were thought to portend evil. 1. This poem was prefixed to the first folio of Shakespeare's plays (1623),

not comparable

2. Chaucer, Spenser, and Francis Beaumont were buried

in Westminster

Stratford.

Abbey;

Shakespeare,

in

TO

30

35

THE

MEMORY

OF

WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE

Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.’ And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,* From thence to honor thee I would not seek° For names, but call forth thund’ring Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles to us,

45

lack

Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,>

To life again, to hear thy buskin® tread And shake a stage; or, when thy socks® were on, Leave thee alone for the comparison Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome 40

1107

symbol of tragedy symbol of comedy

Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.

Triumph, my Britain; thou hast one to show To whom all scenes° of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their prime When like Apollo® he came forth to warm Our ears, or like a Mercury® to charm. Nature herself was proud of his designs,

stages

god of poetry god of eloquence

And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,

Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, 50

As, since, she will vouchsafe® no other wit:

grant

The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus® now not please, But antiquated and deserted lie, As they were not of Nature’s family. Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,

My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet’s matter° nature be,

60

His art doth give the fashion;° and that he Who casts® to write a living line must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses’ anvil; turn the same, And himself with it, that he thinks to frame,

Or for® the laurel he may gain a scorn; For a good poet’s made as well as born, And such wert thou. Look how the father’s face Lives in his issue;° even so the race

subject matter form, style undertakes

instead of

offspring

Of Shakespeare’s mind and manners brightly shines In his well-turnéd and true-filéd lines,

In each of which he seems to shake a lance,’ As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. Sweet swan of Avon, what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James!® 3. John Lyly, Thomas Kyd, and Christopher Marlowe were Elizabethan dramatists contemporary or nearly contemporary with Shakespeare. 4. Shakespeare’s Latin was pretty good, but Jonson is judging by the standard of his own remark-

able scholarship. 5. Marcus Pacuvius, Lucius Accius (2nd century B.C.E.), and “him of Cordova,” Seneca the Younger

(1st century C.E.), were Latin tragedians. Seneca’s tragedies had a large influence on Elizabethan revenge tragedy. 6. Aristophanes, an ancient Greek satirist and writer of comedy; Terence and Plautus (2nd and 3rd centuries B.C.E.), Roman writers of comedy. 7. Pun on Shake-speare. 8. Queen Elizabeth and King James.

1108

|

75

BEN

JONSON

But stay; I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced and made a constellation there!” Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage

Or influence! chide or cheer the drooping stage, Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night, And despairs day, but for thy volume’s light.

80

1623

Ode to Himself! Come, leave the loathéd stage,

And the more loathsome age,

Si

Where pride and impudence, in faction knit, Usurp the chair of wit, Indicting and arraigning every day

Something they call a play. Let their fastidious, vain Commission of the brain

10

Run on and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn: They were not made for thee, less thou for them. Say that thou pour’st them wheat, And they will acorns eat; “Twere simple® fury still thyself to waste On such as have no taste!

is

foolish

‘To offer them a surfeit of pure bread, Whose appetites are dead! No, give them grains their fill, Luck. draff to drink, and swill:2

20

If they love lees,° and leave the lusty wine, Envy them not; their palate’s with the swine.

dregs

No doubt some moldy tale Like Pericles,? and stale

As the shrieve’s® crusts, and nasty as his fish— Scraps, out of every dish tw 7)

Thrown forth and raked into the common

sheriff's

tub,*

May keep up the play club: There, sweepings do as well As the best-ordered meal; For who the relish of these guests will fit 30

Needs set them but the alms basket of wit.

9. Heroes and demigods were typically exalted after death to a place among the stars. I. “Rage” and “influence” describe the supposed effects of the planets on earthly affairs. “Rage” also implies poetic inspiration. 1. The failure of Jonson’s play The New Inn (1629) inspired this assault on criticism and the

public taste. For Carew’s affectionate, mocking

mnie, see pp. 1321-23. 2. All three items are food for pigs. 3. Shakespeare's play, at least in part (printed

Meee

. The basket outside the jail to receive food for aaa was called the sheriff's tub.

CONE

35

WO)

TAlIMUSeLe

And much good do ’t you then: Brave plush and velvet men Can feed on orts;° and, safe in your stage clothes,” Dare quit,° upon your oaths, ‘The stagers and the stage-wrights® too, your peers, Of larding your large ears With their foul comic socks,°

|

1109

scraps acquit

symbols of comedy

Wrought upon twenty blocks;’ 40

Which, if they're torn, and turned, and patched enough, The gamesters® share your guilt,*® and you their stuff.

gamblers

Leave things so prostitute And take th’ Alcaic lute; Or thine own Horace, or Anacreon’s lyre;

4s

30

Warm thee by Pindar’s fire:? And though thy nerves® be shrunk, and blood be cold, Ere years have made thee old, Strike that disdainful heat Throughout, to their defeat, As curious fools, and envious of thy strain, May, blushing, swear no palsy’s in thy brain.!

sinews

But when they hear thee sing The glories of thy king, His zeal to God and his just awe o'er men, wi wi

They may, blood-shaken then, Feel such a flesh-quake to possess their powers

60

In sound of peace or wars, No harp e’er hit the stars In tuning forth the acts of his sweet reign, And raising Charles his chariot bove his Wain.”?

As they shall cry, “Like ours,

1629

1631, 1640—41

5. Actors often wore on the stage clothes cast off by the gentry; these parasites wear clothes cast off by actors. 6. Playwrights. “Stagers’: actors. 7. A pun: molds/blockheads.

and Pindar were among the greatest lyric poets in ancient Greece and Rome. 1. By 1629 Jonson was partially paralyzed. 2. Jonson’s poetry will elevate the chariot of Charles I (symbol of his royal power) above

9. Alcaeus

Ursa Major.

8. A pun: guilt/gilt.

(ca. 600

B.c.E£.),

Horace,

Anacreon,

Charles's Wain (Wagon)—the seven bright stars of

MARY WROTH 1587-1651?

ady Mary Wroth was the most prolific, self-conscious, and impressive female author of the Jacobean era. Her published work (1621) includes two firsts for an Englishwoman: a 558-page romance, The Countess of Montgomery's Urania, which contains more than fifty poems, and appended to it a Petrarchan lyric sequence that had circulated some years in manuscript, 103 sonnets and elegant songs titled Pamphilia to Amphilanthus. Wroth left unpublished a long but unfinished continuation of the Urania and a pastoral drama, Love's Victory, also a first for an Englishwoman. Her achievement was fostered by her strong sense of identity as a Sidney, heir to the literary talent and cultural role of her famous uncle Sir Philip Sidney, her famous aunt Mary Sidney Herbert, countess of Pembroke, who may have served as mentor to her; and her father Robert Sidney, Viscount Lisle, author of a recently discovered sonnet sequence. But she used that heritage transgressively to replace heroes with heroines in genres employed by the male Sidney authors—notably Philip Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella and The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia—transforming their gender politics and exploring the poetics and situation of women writers. As Robert Sidney’s eldest daughter, she lived and was educated at Penshurst, the Sidney country house celebrated by Ben Jonson, and was often at her aunt’s “little college” at Wilton. She was married (incompatibly) at age seventeen to Sir Robert Wroth of Durrance and Loughton Manor, whose office it was to facilitate the king’s hunting; and she was patron to several poets, including Jonson. He celebrated her in two epigrams and in a verse letter honoring her husband, dedicated his great comedy The Alchemist to her, and claimed in his only sonnet (p. 1100—01) that the artistry

and erotic power of her sonnets had made him a “better lover, and much better poet.” After her husband’s death she carried on a long-standing love affair with her married first cousin, William

Herbert, earl of Pembroke,

himself a poet, a powerful

courtier, and a patron of the theater and of literature. That relationship produced two children and occasioned some scandal. The significant names in the title of Wroth’s Petrarchan sequence, Pamphilia (“allloving”) to Amphilanthus (“lover of two”), are from characters in her romance who at

times shadow Wroth and her lover Pembroke. The Petrarchan lyric sequence had long served as the major genre for analyzing a male lover’s passions, frustrations, and fantasies (and sometimes his career anxieties). So although the sonnet sequence was

becoming passé by Wroth’s time, it was an obvious choice for a woman poet undertaking the construction of subjectivity in a female lover-speaker. Wroth does not, however, simply reverse roles. Pamphilia addresses few sonnets to Amphilanthus and seldom assumes the Petrarchan lover's position of abject servitude to a cruel beloved. Instead, she proclaims subjection to Cupid, usually identified with the force of her own desire. This radical revision identifies female desire as the source and center of the love relationship and celebrates the woman lover-poet’s movement from the bondage of chaotic passion to the freedom of self-chosen constancy. Wroth’s romance,

Urania, breaks the romance convention of a plot centered on

courtship, portraying instead inside and outside of marriage. acters are queens, kings, and such positions allow. However, Europe and Asia. The romance

married heroines and their love relationships, both It is in part an idealizing fantasy: the principal charemperors, with the power and comparative freedom the landscape is not Arcadia or Fairyland but wartorn fantasy, with Spenserian symbolic places and knights 1110

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Lady Mary Wroth, with archlute (artist unknown). The image represents Mary Wroth in a conventional pose and role, holding the archlute, which indicates that she has been educated in the graceful arts that an aristocratic woman was expected to know. But the massive archlute, emblem of song-making, also points to her Sidney heritage—as niece of the poets Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke, and as daughter of Sir Robert Sidney of Penshurst, also a poet—and to her own unconventional role as female poet.

fighting evil tyrants and monsters, only partially overlays a rigidly patriarchal Jacobean world rife with rape, incest, arranged or forced marriages, jealous husbands, tortured women, and endangered children. Those perils, affecting all women from shepherdesses to queens, are rendered in large part through the numerous stories interpolated in romance fashion within the principal plots. The male heroes are courageous fighters and attractive lovers, but all are flawed by inconstancy. For Wroth, true heroism consists of integrity in love despite social constraints and psychological pressures. A few women are heroic in this sense: Pamphilia, the good queen and pattern of constancy; Urania, the wise counselor who wins self-knowledge and makes wise choices in love; and Veralinda, who weds her true lover after great trials. Almost all Wroth’s female characters define themselves through storytelling and making poems. The women compose twice as many of the poems as the men do. Pamphilia, Wroth’s surrogate, is singled out as a poet by vocation, both by the number of her poems and by their recognized excellence. Many contemporaries assumed that the Urania was a scandalous roman 4 clef, alluding not only to Sidney-Pembroke-Wroth affairs but to notable personages of the Jacobean court. A public outcry from one of them, Lord Edward Denny, elicited a

spirited satiric response from Wroth. Although she suggested to the king’s minister Buckingham that she withdraw the work from circulation, there is no evidence that

she actually did so. The uproar, however, may have discouraged her from publishing part 2 of the romance and her pastoral drama.

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From The Countess of Montgomery’s Urania! From The First Book When the spring began to appear like the welcome messenger of summer, one sweet (and in that more sweet) morning, after Aurora* had called all careful eyes to attend the day, forth came the fair shepherdess Urania? (fair indeed; yet that far too mean a title for her, who for beauty deserved the highest style? could be given by best-knowing judgments). Into the mead® she came, where usually she drove her flocks to feed, whose leaping and wantonness showed they were proud of such a guide: but she, whose sad thoughts led her to another manner of spending her time, made her soon leave them, and

follow her late-begun custom; which was (while they delighted themselves) to sit under some shade, bewailing her misfortune; while they fed, to feed upon her own sorrow and tears, which at this time she began again to summon, sitting down under the shade of a well-spread beech; the ground (then blest) and the tree, with full and fine-leaved branches, growing proud to bear and shadow such perfections. But she regarding nothing, in comparison of her woe, thus proceeded in her grief: “Alas Urania,” said she (the true servant to misfortune), “of any misery that can befall woman, is not this the most and

greatest which thou art fallen into? Can there be any near the unhappiness of being ignorant, and that in the highest kind, not being certain of mine own estate or birth? Why was I not still continued in the belief Iwas, as I appear, a shepherdess, and daughter to a shepherd? My ambition then went no higher than this estate, now flies it to a knowledge; then was I contented, now per-

plexed. O ignorance, can thy dullness yet procure so sharp a pain? and that such a thought as makes me now aspire unto knowledge? How did I joy in this poor life, being quiet! blessed in the love of those I took for parents, but now by them I know the contrary, and by that knowledge, now to know myself. Miserable Urania, worse art thou now than these thy lambs; for they know their dams, while thou dost live unknown of any.” By this were others come into that mead with their flocks: but she, esteeming her sorrowing thoughts her best and choicest company, left that place, taking a little path which brought her to the further side of the plain, to the foot of the rocks, speaking as she went these lines, her eyes fixed upon the ground, her very soul turned into mourning. Unseen, unknown, I here alone complain

To rocks, to hills, to meadows, and to springs,

1. Wroth’s title echoes The Countess of Pembroke'’s Arcadia, the romance written by her uncle Sir Philip Sidney. The countess of Montgomery was Susan (Vere) Herbert, Wroth’s close friend and the sister-in-law of her lover, William Herbert. The opening of the Urania is meant to be compared to (and contrasted with) the opening of the Arcadia, in which two shepherds lament the absence of their beloved, the mysterious shepherdess Urania. 2. The Greek goddess of the dawn. 3. The name has multiple associations: the Muse

of astronomy, the Muse of Christian poetry, a surname for Aphrodite (Venus) designating heavenly beauty. It was also an honorific commonly bestowed on Wroth’s aunt, Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke. In Wroth’s romance, Urania is a

foundling adopted by shepherds but actually the daughter of the king of Naples: after losing one

lover and gaining another, she marries, becomes a matriarch, and is throughout (as in this episode)

a counselor of others.

4. Title. 5. Meadow.

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Which can no help return to ease my pain, But back my sorrows the sad Echo? brings. Thus still increasing are my woes to me, Doubly resounded by that moanful voice, Which seems to second me in misery, And answer gives like friend of mine own choice. Thus only she doth my companion prove, The others silently do offer ease. But those that grieve, a grieving note do love; Pleasures to dying eyes bring but disease: And such am I, who daily ending live, Wailing a state which can no comfort give.

5

10

In this passion she went on, till she came to the foot of a great rock, she thinking of nothing less than ease, sought how she might ascend it; hoping there to pass away her time more peaceably with loneliness, though not to find least respite from her sorrow, which so dearly she did value, as by no means she would impart it to any. The way was hard, though by some windings making the ascent pleasing. Having attained the top, she saw under some hollow trees the entry into the rock: she fearing nothing but the continuance of her ignorance, went in; where she found a pretty room, as if that

stony place had yet in pity, given leave for such perfections to come into the heart as chiefest, and most beloved place, because most loving. The place was not unlike the ancient (or the descriptions of ancient) hermitages, instead of hangings, covered and lined with ivy, disdaining aught else should come there, that being in such perfection. This richness in Nature’s plenty made her stay to behold it, and almost grudge the pleasant fullness of content that place might have, if sensible, while she must know to taste of torments. As she

was thus in passion mixed with pain, throwing her eyes as wildly as timorous lovers do for fear of discovery, she perceived a little light, and such a one, as a chink doth oft discover to our sights. She curious to see what this was, with her delicate hands put the natural ornament

aside, discerning a little door,

which she putting from her, passed through it into another room, like the first in all proportion; but in the midst there was a square stone, like to a

pretty table, and on it a wax candle burning; and by that a paper,’ which had suffered itself patiently to receive the discovering of so much of it, as presented this sonnet (as it seemed newly written) to her sight.

s

Here all alone in silence might I mourn: But how can silence be where sorrows flow? Sighs with complaints have poorer pains outworn; But broken hearts can only true grief show. Drops of my dearest blood shall let Love know Such tears for her I shed, yet still do burn,

As no spring can quench least part of my woe, Till this live earth, again to earth do turn. Hateful all thought of comfort is to me, 6. In classical mythology Echo was a wood nymph who pined away in unrequited love for the handsome Narcissus until only her voice remained (Ovid, Metamorphoses 3).

7. The episode alludes to an episode in Philip

Sidney's Old Arcadia in which one of the heroines, Cleophila, enters a darkened cave illuminated by a single candle and finds a poem on top of a stone table.

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WROTH

Despised day, let me still night possess; Let me all torments feel in their excess,

And but this light allow my state to see. Which still doth waste, and wasting as this light, Are my sad days unto eternal night. “Alas Urania!” sighed she. “How well do these words, this place, and all agree with thy fortune? Sure, poor soul, thou wert here appointed to spend thy days, and these rooms ordained to keep thy tortures in; none being assuredly so matchlessly unfortunate.” Turning from the table, she discerned in the room a bed of boughs, and on it a man lying, deprived of outward sense, as she thought, and of life, as she at first did fear, which struck her into a great amazement: yet having a brave spirit, though shadowed under a mean habit,® she stepped unto him, whom she found not dead, but laid upon his back, his head a little to her wards,’ his arms folded on his breast, hair long, and beard disordered, man-

ifesting all care;' but care itself had left him: curiousness thus far afforded him, as to be perfectly discerned the most exact piece of misery; apparel he had suitable to the habitation, which was a long gray* robe. This grieveful spectacle did much amaze the sweet and tender-hearted shepherdess; especially, when she perceived (as she might by the help of the candle) the tears which distilled from his eyes; who seeming the image of death, yet had this sign of worldly sorrow, the drops falling in that abundance, as if there were a kind strife among them, to rid their master first of that burdenous? carriage; or else meaning to make a flood, and so drown their woeful patient in his own sorrow, who yet lay still, but then fetching a deep groan from the profoundest part of his soul, he said:

“Miserable Perissus,* canst thou thus live, knowing she that gave thee life is gone? Gone, O me! and with her all my joy departed. Wilt thou (unblessed creature) lie here complaining for her death, and know she died for thee? Let

truth and shame make thee do something worthy of such a love, ending thy days like thyself, and one fit to be her servant. But that I must not do: then thus remain and foster storms, still to torment thy wretched soul withall, since all are little, and too too little for such a loss. O dear Limena,* loving Limena, worthy Limena, and more rare, constant Limena: perfections delicately feigned to be in women were verified in thee, was such worthiness framed only to be wondered at by the best, but given as a prey to base and unworthy jealousy? When were all worthy parts joined in one, but in thee my best Limena? Yet all these grown subject to a creature ignorant of all but ill; like unto a fool, who in a dark cave, that hath but one way to get out, having a candle, but not the understanding what good it doth him, puts it out: this

ignorant wretch not being able to comprehend thy virtues, did so by thee in thy murder, putting out the world’s light, and men’s admiration: Limena, Limena, O my Limena.” With that he fell from complaining into such a passion, as weeping and crying were never in so woeful a perfection, as now in him; which brought as deserved a compassion from the excellent shepherdess, who already had her 8. Lowly garment. 9. Toward her. . Trouble. Gray is typically associated with mourning and

despair. 3. Burdensome. 4. Perissus: “Lost one.” 5. Woman of home or threshold.

THE

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heart so tempered with grief, as that it was apt to take any impression that it would come to seal withal. Yet taking a brave courage to her, she stepped unto him, kneeling down by his side, and gently pulling him by the arm, she thus spoke. “Sir,” said she, “having heard some part of your sorrows, they have not only made me truly pity you, but wonder at you; since if you have lost so great a treasure, you should not lie thus leaving her and your love unrevenged, suffering her murderers to live, while you lie here complaining; and if such perfections be dead in her, why make you not the phoenix® of your deeds live again, as to new life raised out of the revenge you should take on them? Then were her end satisfied, and you deservedly accounted worthy of her favor, if she were so worthy as you say.” “If she were, O God,” cried out Perissus, “what devilish spirit art thou, that

thus dost come to torture me? But now I see you are a woman; and therefore not much to be marked, and less resisted: but if you know charity, I pray now practice it, and leave me who am afflicted sufficiently without your company; or if you will stay, discourse not to me.” “Neither of these will I do,” said she.

“If you be then,” said he, “some Fury’ of purpose sent to vex me, use your force to the uttermost in martyring me; for never was there a fitter subject, then the heart of poor Perissus is.” “I am no Fury,” replied the divine Urania, “nor hither come to trouble you, but by accident lighted on this place; my cruel hap being such, as only the like can give me content, while the solitariness of this like cave might give me quiet, though not ease. Seeking for such a one, I happened hither; and this is the true cause of my being here, though now I would use it to a better end if I might: Wherefore favor me with the knowledge of your grief; which heard, it may be I shall give you some counsel, and comfort in your sorrow.” “Cursed may I be,” cried he, “if ever I take comfort, having such cause of mourning: but because you are, or seem to be afflicted, I will not refuse to

satisfy your demand, but tell you the saddest story that ever was rehearsed by dying man to living woman, and such a one, as I fear will fasten too much sadness in you; yet should I deny it, I were to blame, being so well known to these senseless places; as were they sensible of sorrow, they would condole, or else amazed at such cruelty stand dumb as they do, to find that man should be so inhuman.”

SONG®

5

Love what art thou? A vain thought In our minds by fancy wrought. Idle smiles did thee beget, While fond wishes made the net Which so many fools have caught.

6. Mythical bird said to live five hundred years, then expire in flames, out of which a new phoenix arose. Only one phoenix existed at a time. 7. Goddess of vengeance.

ofagroup of eclogues that marks 8. This song, one the conclusion of Book 1 of the Urania, is sung to a shepherdess by a shepherd, “being, as it seemed, fallen out with Love.”

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Love what art thou? Light and fair, Fresh as morning, clear as th’ air. But too soon thy evening change Makes thy worth with coldness range; Still thy joy is mixed with care. Love what art thou? A sweet flower Once full blown,° dead in an hour.

va

Dust in wind as staid remains As thy pleasure or our gains, If thy humor® change, to lour.°

in full bloom

whim /frown

Love what art thou? Childish, vain,

20

Firm as bubbles made by rain, Wantonness thy greatest pride. These foul faults thy virtues hide— But babes can no staidness gain. Love what art thou? Causeless cursed, Yet alas these not the worst:

Much more of thee may be said. But thy law I once obeyed,

25

Therefore say no more at first. 1621

From Pamphilia to Amphilanthus' When night’s black mantle could most darkness prove, And sleep, death’s image, did my senses hire From knowledge of myself, then thoughts did move Swifter than those most swiftness need require. In sleep, a chariot drawn by winged desire

s

I saw, where sat bright Venus, Queen of Love, And at her feet, her son,° still adding fire

Cupid

To burning hearts, which she did hold above. But one heart flaming more than all the rest The goddess held, and put it to my breast.

10 ’

“Dear son, now shut,”* said she: “thus must we win.”

He her obeyed, and martyred my poor heart. 1. Pamphilia (“all-loving”) is the protagonist of the Urania. Her unfaithful beloved’s name means “lover of two.” These characters are first cousins,

like Mary Wroth and William Herbert; their names adumbrate the main theme of both the romance

and the appended sonnet sequence, constancy in the face of unfaithfulness. Pamphilia to Amphilanthus is broken into sev-

eral separately numbered series (the first of which

includes forty-eight sonnets, with songs inserted after every sixth sonnet except the last). In Josephine A. Roberts’s edition of Wroth’s poetry, the poems are numbered consecutively throughout the work; we have adopted this convenient renumbering. 2. Le., shut the burning heart into Pamphilia’s breast.

PAMPHILIA

TO

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I, waking, hoped as dreams it would depart: Yet since, O me, a lover I have been.

16

Am I thus conquered? Have I lost the powers That to withstand, which joys to ruin me??

vw

10

Must I be still while it my strength devours, And captive leads me prisoner, bound, unfree? Love first shall leave men’s fancies to them free,* Desire shall quench Love's flames, spring hate sweet showers, Love shall loose all his darts, have sight, and see His shame, and wishings hinder happy hours. Why should we not Love’s purblind® charms resist? completely blind Must we be servile, doing what he list?° what pleases him No, seek some host to harbor thee: I fly Thy babish tricks, and freedom do profess. But O my hurt makes my lost heart confess I love, and must: So farewell liberty. 25 Like to the Indians scorched with the sun,

vi

10

The sun which they do as their god adore, So am I used by Love, for evermore® I worship him, less favors have I won. Better are they who thus to blackness run, And so can only whiteness’ want deplore: Than I, who pale and white am with grief’s store, Nor can have hope, but to see hopes undone. Besides their sacrifice received in sight

the more

Of their chose Saint, mine hid as worthless rite,

Grant me to see where | my offerings give; Then let me wear the mark of Cupid’s might In heart, as they in skin of Phoebus? light, Not ceasing offerings to Love while I live.

the sun god

28 SONG? Sweetest love, return again,

s

Make not too long stay: Killing mirth and forcing pain, Sorrow leading way. Let us not thus parted be: Love and absence ne’er agree.

3. Le., have I lost the power to withstand love (“That”), which takes pleasure in ruining me? 4. l.e., this and the other impossibilities that fol-

low will occur before I surrender to love. 5. The poem seems to revise one of Donne's songs: “Sweetest love, I do not go,” p. 929.

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10

But since you must needs depart, And me hapless leave, In your journey take my heart, Which will not deceive. Yours it is, to you it flies,

Joying in those loved eyes.

is

20

So in part we shall not part, Though we absent be: ‘Time, nor place, nor greatest smart Shall my bands make free. Tied I am, yet think it gain: In such knots I feel no pain. But can I live, having lost Chiefest part of me? Heart is fled, and sight is crossed,

These my fortunes be. Yet dear heart go, soon return: As good there as here to burn. 39)

Vw

Take heed mine eyes, how you your looks do cast Lest they betray my heart’s most secret thought, Be true unto yourselves, for nothing’s bought More dear than doubt which brings a lover’s fast.° Catch you all watching eyes, ere they be past, Or take yours fixed where your best love hath sought The pride of your desires; let them be taught Their faults for shame, they could no truer last. Then look, and look with joy for conquest won Of those that searched your hurt in double kind,’ So you kept safe, let them themselves look blind, Watch, gaze, and mark till they to madness run,

While you, mine eyes enjoy full sight of love Contented that such happinesses move. 40

False hope which feeds but to destroy, and spill® What it first breeds; unnatural to the birth Of thine own womb; conceiving but to kill, vi

And plenty gives to make the greater dearth,’ So tyrants do who falsely ruling earth Outwardly grace them,! and with profits fill,

6. Lack of nourishment for love, due to jealousy (“doubt”).

7. Those who spy and pry with their two eyes, to

discover my secret love. 8. Kill. The image is of miscarriage or infanticide.

9. Gives abundance only to make scarcity more painful afterward. 1. I.e., those whom they mean to destroy (see next

line).

PAMPHILIA

10

TO

AMPHILANTHUS

Advance those who appointed are to death, To make their greater fall to please their will. Thus shadow? they their wicked vile intent, Coloring evil with a show of good While in fair shows their malice so is spent;? Hope kills the heart, and tyrants shed the blood. For hope deluding brings us to the pride Of our desires the farther down to slide.

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conceal

64

Love like a juggler comes to play his prize,°

perform skillfully

And all minds draw his wonders to admire,

wi

10

To see how cunningly he, wanting eyes,’ Can yet deceive the best sight of desire. The wanton child how he can feign his fire So prettily, as none sees his disguise! How finely do his tricks; while we fools hire The badge and office of his tyrannies.* For in the end such juggling he doth make, As he our hearts instead of eyes doth take; For men can only by their sleights abuse The sight with nimble and delightful skill; But if he play, his gain is our lost will. Yet child-like we cannot his sports refuse. 68

My pain, still smothered in my grieved breast, Seeks for some ease, yet cannot passage find To be discharged of this unwelcome guest: When most I strive, most fast his burdens bind, wit

Like to a ship on Goodwin’s? cast by wind, The more she strives, more deep in sand is pressed, Till she be lost; so am I, in this kind,°

10

manner

Sunk, and devoured, and swallowed by unrest, Lost, shipwrecked, spoiled, debarred of smallest hope, Nothing of pleasure left; save thoughts have scope, Which wander may. Go then, my thoughts, and cry “Hope’s perished, love tempest-beaten, joy lost: Killing despair hath all these blessings crossed.” Yet faith still cries, “love will not falsify.”

2. Expended, employed. “Shows”: appearances. 3. Cupid, the god of Love, was represented as a blind child.

4. Seek, at our own cost, the external tokens and

ceremonies of tyrannical Love. 5. Goodwin Sands, a line of shoals at the entrance to the Strait of Dover.

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74 SONG

Love a child is ever crying,

Please him, and he straight is flying; Give him, he the more is craving,

Never satisfied with having. s

His desires have no measure, Endless folly is his treasure; What he promiseth he breaketh: Trust not one word that he speaketh. He vows nothing but false matter,

10

And to cozen® you he'll flatter. Let him gain the hand,° he’ll leave you, And still glory to deceive you.

cheat the upper hand

He will triumph in your wailing,

15

And yet cause be of your failing: These his virtues are, and slighter Are his gifts, his favors lighter. Feathers are as firm in staying,

20

Wolves no fiercer in their preying. As a child then leave him crying, Nor seek him, so given to flying.

From A Crown ofSonnets Dedicated to Love® JA

In this strange labyrinth how shall I turn? Ways? are on all sides, while the way I miss:

paths

If to the right hand, there in love I burn; vi

10

Let me go forward, therein danger is; If to the left, suspicion hinders bliss, Let me® turn back, shame cries I ought return, Nor faint though crosses’ with my fortunes kiss; Stand still is harder, although sure to mourn.® Then let me take the right- or left-hand way;

ifI

Go forward, or stand still, or back retire;

6. The “crown” is a difficult poetic form (originally Italian and usually known by its Italian name, corona) in which the last line of each poem serves as the first line of the next, until a circle is

completed by the last line of the final poem, which is the same as the first line of the first one. The number of poems varies from seven to (as in Wroth’s corona) fourteen. In contrast to the errant-child Cupid of the

preceding part of the sequence, Love in this series is a mature and just monarch, whose true service ennobles lovers. The crown is in part a recantation of the harsh judgment of love earlier in the sequence. But Pamphilia relapses into melancholy afterward. 7. Troubles, adversity. “Faint”: lose heart. 8. L.e., certain to make me mourn.

JOHN

WEBSTER

I must these doubts endure without allay° Or help, but travail find for my best hire.” Yet that which most my troubled sense doth move Is to leave all, and take the thread of love.!

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103

10

My muse now happy, lay thyself to rest, Sleep in the quiet of a faithful love, Write you no more, but let these fancies move Some other hearts, wake not to new unrest. But if you study, be those thoughts addressed To truth, which shall eternal goodness prove; Enjoying of true joy, the most, and best, The endless gain which never will remove. Leave the discourse of Venus and her son To young beginners,’ and their brains inspire With stories of great love, and from that fire Get heat to write the fortunes they have won. And thus leave off, what’s past shows you can love, Now let your constancy your honor prove. 3 1621

9. L.e., I find travail (with a pun on “travel,” the spelling in the 1621 edition) is my only reward. 1. Ariadne gave Theseus a thread to follow so as to find his way out of the Labyrinth, after killing the Minotaur at its center. 2. In Neoplatonic love philosophy, “beginners” in love are attracted to physical beauty and sensory delights, while more advanced lovers love virtue

and spiritual beauty. Writing love sonnets is traditionally the business of young lovers. 3. Inasymbolic episode in the Urania, Pamphilia embodies the virtue of Constancy; she accepts the keys to the Throne of Love, “at which instant Constancy vanished as metamorphosing herself into her breast” (1.1.141).

JOHN WEBSTER 1580?-1625?

ohn Webster's fame rests on two remarkable tragedies, both set in Roman Catholic Italy and both evoking the common Jacobean stereotype of that land as a place of sophisticated corruption. Both have at their center bold heroines who choose for themselves in love and refuse to submit to male authority. The White Devil, first performed in 1608, is based on events that took place in Italy in 1581-85; in this play Vittoria Corombona defies a courtroom full of corrupt magistrates who convict her of adultery and murder. The Duchess of Malfi, first performed in 1614 and published in 1623, is based on an Italian novella. In this play, the spirited ruler of Malfi secretly marries her steward for love, defying her brothers, a duke and a cardinal, who demand that she remain a widow. Their dark motives include greed

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for her fortune, overweening pride in their noble blood, and incestuous desire. The

play weds sublime poetry and gothic horror in the devious machinations set in motion against the duchess by her brothers’ melancholy spy Bosola, in the macabre mental and physical torments to which they subject her, and in the final scenes in which the stage is littered with the slaughtered bodies of all the principal characters.

Webster was the son of a London tailor and a member of the Merchant Tailors’ Company, but we know little else about him. He wrote a tragicomedy, The Devil's Law Case (1621), and collaborated on several plays with contemporary playwrights, among them Thomas Dekker in Westward Ho (1607) and John Marston in The Malcontent (1604). Of all the Stuart dramatists, Webster is the one who comes closest to

Shakespeare in his power of tragic utterance and his flashes of poetic brilliance.

The Duchess of Malfi DRAMATIS

PERSONAE

FERDINAND, Duke of Calabria

DOCTOR

THE CARDINAL, his brother ANTONIO BOLOGNA, steward of the household to the pucHESS

Several MADMEN, PILGRIMS, EXECUTIONERS, OFFICERS, ATTENDANTS &c.

DELIO, his friend DANIEL DE BOSOLA, gentleman of the horse to the DUCHESS

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI, sister of FERDINAND and the CARDINAL

CASTRUCCIO, an old lord MARQUIS OF PESCARA COUNT MALATESTE sILvio, a lord, of Milan

CARIOLA, her woman JULIA, CASTRUCCIO's wife, and the CARDINALS mistress OLD LADY, LADIES, and

RODERIGO)

gentlemen attending

eee

on the DUCHESS

CHILDREN

SCENE. Amalfi, Rome, Loreto, and Milan Act I

SCENE |. Amalfi; a hall in the pucuess'’s palace. [Enter ANTONIO and DELIO.|

DELIO You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio; You have been long in France, and you return A very formal Frenchman in your habit.! How do you like the French court? wn

ANTONIO I admire it: In seeking to reduce both state and people To a fixed order, their judicious king Begins at home; quits® first his royal palace Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute And infamous persons—which he sweetly terms

1. An absolute Frenchman in your dress.

rids

THE

DUCHESS

TORUIMALFu s1

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His Master’s masterpiece, the work of heaven?— Considering duly that a prince’s court Is like a common fountain, whence should flow

20

Pure silver drops in general, but if ’t chance Some cursed example poison ’t near the head, Death and diseases through the whole land spread. And what is ’t makes this blessed government But a most provident council, who dare freely Inform him the corruption of the times? Though some o’ th’ court hold it presumption To instruct princes what they ought to do, It is a noble duty to inform them What they ought to foresee.—Here comes Bosola, The only court-gall;? yet I observe his railing Is not for simple love of piety. Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants; Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,

Bloody, or envious, as any man, If he had means to be so. Here’s the cardinal. [Enter the CARDINAL and BOSOLA.|

BOSOLA I do haunt you still. CARDINAL So. BOSOLA | have done you better service than to be slighted thus. Miserable age, where the only reward of doing well is the doing of it! CARDINAL You enforce your merit too much. BOSOLA I fell into the galleys* in your service; where, for two years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot on the shoulder,

after the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus? I will thrive some way. Blackbirds fatten best in hard weather; why not I in these dog days?? CARDINAL Would you could become honest! BOSOLA With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it. | have known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves as they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with them. [Exit CARDINAL.] Are you gone? Some fellows, they say, are possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess the greatest devil, and make him worse. ANTONIO. He hath denied thee some suit? BosoLA He and his brother are like plum trees that grow crooked over standing pools;° they are rich and o’erladen with fruit, but none but crows, pies,’ and caterpillars feed on them. Could I be one of their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears like a horse leech till I were full and then drop off. I pray, leave me. Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation to be advanced tomorrow? What creature ever fed worse than hoping Tantalus?® Nor ever died any 2. Alludes to Christ ridding the temple of money changers (John 2.13—22). 3. One who frets the court, but with the overtone of a disease, a blight. 4. Forced labor at the oar of a Mediterranean galley was the last penalty this side of torture and execution, and was likely to be a death sentence.

5. The hot, sultry season of midsummer. 6. Stagnant waters. 7. Magpies, birds of evil omen like blackbirds. 8. Tantalus, in classical mythology, was “tantalized” by the constant presence of delectable food and drink that, though he was desperate, he could never reach.

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man more fearfully than he that hoped for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks and dogs when they have done us service; but for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.’ DELIO Geometry? BOSOLA Aye, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing in the world upon an honorable pair of crutches, from hospital to hospital.' Fare ye well, sir: and yet do not you scorn us; for places in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where this man’s head lies at that man’s foot, and so lower and lower.

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[Exit.]

DELIO_ I knew this fellow seven years? in the galleys For a notorious murder; and ‘twas thought The cardinal suborned it. He was released By the French general, Gaston de Foix,

When he recovered Naples.’ ANTONIO "Tis great pity He should be thus neglected; I have heard He’s very valiant. This foul melancholy Will poison all his goodness; for, I’ll tell you, If too immoderate sleep be truly said To be an inward rust unto the soul,

It then doth follow want of action Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing,

Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.* SCENE 2. The scene continues. [Enter CASTRUCCIO, SILVIO, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN.|

DELIO The presence? ’gins to fill: you promised me To make me the partaker of the natures Of some of your great courtiers. ANTONIO

audience hall

The Lord Cardinal’s,

And other strangers’ that are now in court? I shall. Here comes the great Calabrian duke. [Enter FERDINAND and ATTENDANTS.|

10

FERDINAND Who took the ring oftenest?! sILvio_ Antonio Bologna, my lord. FERDINAND Our sister duchess’ great master of her household? Give him the jewel. When shall we leave this sportive action, and fall to action indeed? castruccio Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war in person. FERDINAND Now for some gravity. Why, my lord? CASTRUCCIO It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not necessary a prince descend to be a captain. 9. Support. 1. In the 17th century, a place of last resort for

the indigent dying.

2. In speaking to the cardinal himself (line 34),

Bosola had mentioned only two years. 3. Gaston de Foix, French commander, was active

in Italy during the early 1500s; hence, the time of the tragedy is about a hundred years before Webster wrote. Ferdinand and the cardinal are Span-

iards established in Italy, like the infamous house of Borgia. 4. l.e., enforced

idleness breeds discontent,

as

moths breed in unused clothing. 1.2

1. A common game around court, used in training for tournaments, involved catching a hanging ring on the tip of a lance. But some of Webster’s audience would have caught a sexual analogy.

THE

20

25

DUG

HES S 10:8

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FERDINAND No? castruccio No, my lord, he were far better do it by a deputy. FERDINAND Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy? This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas the other deprives him of honor. cAsTRUCCIO Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet where the ruler is a soldier. FERDINAND Thou told’st me thy wife could not endure fighting. CASTRUCCIO True, my lord. FERDINAND And of a jest she broke of a captain she met full of wounds. I have forgot it. castruccio She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie, like the children of Israel, all in tents.?

30

35

FERDINAND Why, there’s a wit were able to undo all the chirurgeons? o’ the city; for although gallants should quarrel and had drawn their weapons and were ready to go to it, yet her persuasions would make them put up. castruccio That she would, my lord. FERDINAND How do you like my Spanish gennet?* RODERIGO He is all fire. FERDINAND | am of Pliny’s opinion, I think he was begot by the wind; he runs as if he were ballassed® with quicksilver. siLvio_ True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.° RODERIGO and GRISOLAN Ha, ha, ha!

40

45

FERDINAND Why do you laugh? Methinks, you that are courtiers should be my touchwood, take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh but when I laugh, were the subject never so witty. casTRucCIO True, my lord, I myself have heard a very good jest, and have scorned to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it. FERDINAND But I can laugh at your fool, my lord. castruccio He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces: my lady cannot abide him. FERDINAND No? castruccio Nor endure to be in merry company, for she says too much laughing and too much company fills her too full of the wrinkle. FERDINAND _ | would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her

50

face, that she might not laugh out of compass.’ I shall shortly visit you

| 55

siLvio Your grace shall arrive most welcome. FERDINAND You are a good horseman, Antonio. You have excellent riders in France. What do you think of good horsemanship? ANTONIO Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many famous princes,® so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of growing resolution that raise the mind to noble action. FERDINAND You have bespoke it worthily.

at Milan, Lord Silvio.

2. Lint bandages were called “tents.” 3. Surgeons. 4, Sometimes “jennet”: a small Spanish horse of Arabian stock. 5. Ballasted. Pliny in his Natural History tells about some Spanish horses generated by a swift wind (8.67).

6. Veers away from the target, undesirable in a warhorse. 7. Excessively; with a pun on the draftsman’s compass. 8. The Trojan horse, in which the Greek warriors hid, to overrun Troy.

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Your brother, the Lord Cardinal, and sister duchess. [Reenter CARDINAL, with DUCHESS, CARIOLA, and JULIA.]

CARDINAL GRISOLAN

Are the galleys come about?

They are, my lord.

FERDINAND Here’s the Lord Silvio, is come to take his leave. DELIO [aside to ANTONIO] Now, sir, your promise. What’s that Cardinal?

80

I mean his temper? They say he’s a brave fellow, Will play’ his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance, Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats. ANTONIO Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman; the spring in his face is nothing but the engendering of toads; where he is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever was imposed on Hercules,! for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, intelligencers,” atheists, and a thousand such political monsters. He should have been Pope; but instead of coming to it by the primitive decency of the church, he did bestow bribes so largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without heaven’s knowledge. Some good he hath done— DELIO You have given too much of him. What’s his brother? ANTONIO ‘The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature. What appears in him mirth is merely outside; If he laugh heartily, it is to laugh All honesty out of fashion. DELIO Twins? ANTONIO In quality. He speaks with others’ tongues, and hears men’s suits With others’ ears; will seem to sleep o’ th’ bench Only to entrap offenders in their answers; Dooms men to death by information;°

90

Rewards by hearsay.° DELIO Then the law to him Is like a foul black cobweb to a spider: He makes of it his dwelling and a prison To entangle those shall feed him. ANTONIO Most true: He ne’er pays debts unless they be shrewd turns,° And those he will confess that he doth owe.

testimony of spies

random report

hurtful acts

Last, for his brother there, the Cardinal,

They that do flatter him most say oracles Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them, For the devil speaks in them. But for their sister, the right noble duchess, You never fixed your eye on three fair medals Cast in one figure, of so different temper. For her discourse, it is so full of rapture,

You only will begin then to be sorry 9. Wager. “Brave”: fine; ostentatious. 1. Hercules’ uncle, King Eurystheus, sent him on twelve suicide missions to get rid of him, but Her-

cules performed all these “labors” successfully. 2. Spies, “political” schemers.

THB

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When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder,

She held it less vainglory° to talk much, Than your penance to hear her: whilst she speaks, She throws upon a man so sweet a look, That it were able to raise one to a galliard° That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote On that sweet countenance; but in that look There speaketh so divine a continence As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope. Her days are practiced in such noble virtue That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps, Are more in heaven than other ladies’ shrifts.° Let all sweet ladies break their flattering glasses,° And dress themselves in her. DELIO

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IDMChHESS#

excessive pride

gay and lively dance

confessions

mirrors

Fie, Antonio,

You play the wire-drawer? with her commendations. ANTONIO I'll case® the picture up only thus much; All her particular worth grows to this sum: She stains° the time past, lights the time to come. CARDINAL You must attend my lady in the gallery, Some half an hour hence. ANTONIO

I shall.

frame darkens

[Exeunt ANTONIO and DELIO.|

FERDINAND _ Sister, I have a suit to you. 120

130

+135

DUCHESS

To me, sir?

FERDINAND A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, One that was in the galleys— DUCHESS

Yes, I know him.

FERDINAND A worthy fellow he is. Pray, let me entreat for The provisorship of your horse.* DUCHESS Your knowledge of him Commends him and prefers him. FERDINAND

Call him hither.

[Exit ATTENDANT. |

We are now upon’ parting. Good Lord Silvio, Do us commend to all our noble friends At the leaguer.° SILVIO

DUCHESS SILVIO DUCHESS

at the point of camp

Sir, I shall.

You are for Milan? I am. Bring the caroches. We'll bring you down to the haven.’ [Exeunt all but FERDINAND and the CARDINAL.|

CARDINAL Be sure you entertain® that Bosola For your intelligence:° I would not be seen in 't; And therefore many times I have slighted him When he did court our furtherance, as this morning. FERDINAND Antonio, the great master of her household, Had been far fitter. CARDINAL You are deceived in him: 3. Draw out her praises excessively. 4. Let me beg (for him) the position of supervi-

sor of your horse. 2 5. Harbor. “Caroches”: carriages.

hire spy

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His nature is too honest for such business. He comes: I'll leave you.

[Exit.]

[Reenter BOSOLA.|

140

BOSOLA FERDINAND Abide you. BOSOLA FERDINAND Made him BOSOLA There’s no

I was lured to you. My brother here the cardinal could never

Never since he was in my debt. Maybe some oblique character® in your face _ crooked feature suspect you. Doth he study physiognomy? more credit to be given to th’ face

Than to a sick man’s urine, which some call

The physician’s whore, because she cozens° him. He did suspect me wrongfully. FERDINAND For that You must give great men leave to take their times. Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceived: You see, the oft shaking of the cedar tree Fastens it more at root. BOSOLA

tricks

Yet, take heed;

For to suspect a friend unworthily Instructs him the next° way to suspect you, And prompts him to deceive you. FERDINAND [giving him money} There’s gold. BOSOLA So: What follows? Never rained such showers as these Without thunderbolts i’ th’ tail of them. Whose throat must I cut? FERDINAND Your inclination to shed blood rides post° Before my occasion to use you. I give you that

nearest

hurries

To live i’ th’ court here, and observe the duchess; 160

To note all the particulars of her ‘havior, What suitors do solicit her for marriage, And whom she best affects. She’s a young widow: I would not have her marry again. BOSOLA

165

No, sir?

FERDINAND Do not you ask the reason, but be satisfied I say I would not. BOSOLA It seems you would create me One of your familiars.° FERDINAND Familiar? What’s that? BOSOLA Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh, An intelligencer.° FERDINAND Such a kind of thriving thing I would wish thee, and ere long thou may’st arrive At a higher place by ’t. BOSOLA Take your devils, Which hell calls angels;° these cursed gifts would make 6. Gold coins, marked with the image of the archangel Michael.

diabolical spirits spy

THES

DWIGhHESS

TO

EMA

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You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor;

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And should I take these, they’d take me to hell. FERDINAND Sir, I'll take nothing from you that I have given: There is a place that I procured for you This morning, the provisorship o’ th’ horse; Have you heard on 't? BOSOLA No. FERDINAND "Tis yours. Is ’t not worth thanks? BOSOLA I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty, Which makes men truly noble, e’er should make me A villain. Oh, that to avoid ingratitude

For the good deed you have done me, I must do All the ill man can invent! Thus the devil

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Candies all sins o'er; and what heaven terms vile,

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195

That names he complimental.° FERDINAND Be yourself, Keep your old garb of melancholy; twill express You envy those that stand above your reach, Yet strive not to come near ‘em: this will gain Access to private lodgings, where yourself May, like a politic dormouse— BOSOLA As I have seen some Feed in a lord’s dish, half asleep, not seeming To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues Have cut his throat in a dream. What’s my place? The provisorship o’ th’ horse? Say, then, my corruption Grew out of horse dung. I am your creature. FERDINAND Away! BOSOLA Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame, Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame: Sometimes the devil doth preach.

gracious

[Exit.|

SCENE 3. The scene continues. [Enter DUCHESS, CARDINAL, and CARIOLA.|

CARDINAL We are to part from you, and your own discretion Must now be your director. FERDINAND You are a widow: You know already what man is; and therefore Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence— CARDINAL

No, nor any thing without the addition, honor,

Sway your high blood. FERDINAND Will wed twice. CARDINAL

Marry! They are most luxurious® Oh, fie!

FERDINAND Than Laban’s sheep.' 1.3

lecherous

Their livers are more spotted

1. In Genesis 30.31-33, Laban promises to Jacob any speckled lambs born while Jacob is herding Laban’s sheep; the liver as seat of the passions was thought to be diseased when spotted.

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DUCHESS

Diamonds are of most value,

They say, that have passed through most jewelers’ hands. FERDINAND Whores by that rule are precious. DUCHESS Will you hear me? Pll never marry. CARDINAL So most widows say; But commonly that motion® lasts no longer Than the turning of an hourglass; the funeral sermon And it end both together. FERDINAND Now hear me:

impulse

You live in a rank pasture, here, i’ th’ court;

ie)wn

There is a kind of honeydew? that’s deadly; "Twill poison your fame? look to ’t; be not cunning; For they whose faces do belie their hearts Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, Aye, and give the devil suck. DUCHESS This is terrible good counsel. FERDINAND Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, Subtler than Vulcan’s engine: yet, believe ’t, Your darkest actions, nay, your privatest thoughts, Will come to light. CARDINAL You may flatter yourself, And take your own choice; privately be married Under the eaves of night— FERDINAND Think ’t the best voyage That e’er you made; like the irregular crab, Which, though ’t goes backward, thinks that it goes right

reputation

Because it goes its own way; but observe, 30

Such weddings may more properly be said To be executed than celebrated. CARDINAL The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison.

FERDINAND And those joys, Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps Which do forerun man’s mischief. CARDINAL Fare you well. Wisdom begins at the end: remember it.

40

[Exit.|

pucHEss | think this speech between you both was studied, It came so roundly? off. FERDINAND You are my sister; This was my father’s poniard,° do you see? I'd be loath to see ’t look rusty, ’cause ’twas his. I would have you to give o’er these chargeable? revels: A visor? and a mask are whispering rooms That were ne'er built for goodness—fare ye well— And women like that part which, like the lamprey,” 2. A sweet, sticky substance left on plants by

aphids. 3. The

net in which

Vulcan,

Venus’s

caught her misbehaving with Mars.

glibly dagger expensive

4. A half-mask, worn by ladies at carnivals, theaters, and other dubious resorts.

husband,

5. Lamprey eels have a cartilaginous, not a bony,

skeleton.

Mie

DUCES S# Ole

MIA UE

lmlias.

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Hath never a bone in 't. DUCHESS Fie, sir! FERDINAND

Nay,

I mean the tongue; variety of courtship. What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow.

DUCHESS

[Exit.]

Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred

Lay in my way unto this marriage,

I'd make them my low footsteps; and even now, Even in this hate, as men in some great battles, By apprehending danger, have achieved Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), »5

So I through frights and threatenings will assay° This dangerous venture. Let old wives report I winked and chose a husband. Cariola, To thy known secrecy I have given up More than my life—my fame. CARIOLA Both shall be safe, For I'll conceal this secret from the world As warily as those that trade in poison Keep poison from their children. DUCHESS Thy protestation Is ingenious® and hearty:° I believe it.

attempt

ingenuous / sincere

Is Antonio come? CARIOLA He attends you. DUCHESS

Good dear soul,

Leave me, but place thyself behind the arras,° Where thou mayst overhear us. Wish me good speed, For I am going into a wilderness Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue To be my guide. [CARIOLA goes behind the arras.| [Enter ANTONIO. |

I sent for you: sit down; Take pen and ink, and write. Are you ready? ANTONIO Yes. puCHESS What did I say? ANTONIO That I should write somewhat. DUCHESS

Oh, I remember:

After these triumphs? and this large expense, It’s fit, like thrifty husbands,’ we inquire What’s laid up for tomorrow. ANTONIO So please your beauteous excellence.

tournaments

DUCHESS Beauteous? Indeed, I thank you: I look young for your sake;

You have ta’en my cares upon you. ANTONIO I'll fetch your grace 6. Tapestries were often hung in Renaissance palaces to moderate the chill of the bare walls. 7. Though used here in its original sense of one

who preserves and safeguards property, the word shows where the duchess’s thoughts are tending.

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WEBSTER

The particulars of your revenue and expense. pucHEss Oh, you are an upright treasurer: but you mistook; For when I said I meant to make inquiry What’s laid up for tomorrow, I did mean What’s laid up yonder for me. ANTONIO Where? DUCHESS In heaven. Iam making my will (as ’tis fit princes should, In perfect memory), and I pray sir, tell me, Were not one better make it smiling thus Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks, As if the gifts we parted with procured® That violent distraction? ANTONIO

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95

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brought on

Oh, much better.

pucHEss If I had a husband now, this care were quit: But I intend to make you overseer. What good deed shall we first remember? Say. ANTONIO Begin with that first good deed begun i’ th’ world After man’s creation, the sacrament of marriage: I'd have you first provide for a good husband; Give him all. DUCHESS All? ANTONIO Yes, your excellent self. DUCHESS In a winding-sheet? ANTONIO In a couple. DUCHESS Saint Winfred, that were a strange will!® ANTONIO [were stranger if there were no will in you To marry again. DUCHESS What do you think of marriage? ANTONIO I take ’t, as those that deny purgatory; It locally°® contains or heaven or hell; within itself There’s no third place in ’t. DUCHESS How do you affect it?° feel about it ANTONIO My banishment,° feeding my melancholy, solitary condition Would often reason thus— DUCHESS Pray, let’s hear it. ANTONIO Say a man never marry, nor have children, What takes that from him? Only the bare name Of being a father, or the weak delight To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter Like a taught starling. DUCHESS

Fie, fie, what’s all this?

One of your eyes is bloodshot; use my ring to ’t, They say 'tis very sovereign.’ "Iwas my wedding ring, And I did vow never to part with it 8. Saint Winifred, Welsh virgin and martyr, is an odd saint for the Duchess

of Malfi to swear on.

“In a couple”: i.e., of sheets—but with a play on

“coupling.” 9. Healing, but with an overtone implying royal

power.

:

THE

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DUCHESS

ORIWAL

FIIs3

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But to my second husband. ANTONIO You have parted with it now. DUCHESS Yes, to help your eyesight. ANTONIO You have made me stark blind. DUCHESS How? ANTONIO There is a saucy and ambitious devil Is dancing in this circle.! DUCHESS Remove him. ANTONIO

How?

pucHEss' There needs small conjuration, when your finger May do it: thus; is it fit? [She puts the ring upon his finger; he kneels.] ANTONIO What said you? DUCHESS 120

ANTONIO 125

130

Sir,

This goodly roof of yours? is too low built; I cannot stand upright in ’t nor discourse, Without I raise it higher: raise yourself; Or, if you please, my hand to help you: so. [Raises him.| Ambition, madam, is a great man’s madness,

That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms, But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt With the wild noise of prattling visitants, Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure. Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim Whereto your favors tend; but he’s a fool That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i’ th’ fire

To warm them. DUCHESS

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140

145

So, now the ground’s broke,

You may discover what a wealthy mine I make you lord of. ANTONIO O my unworthiness! DUCHESS You were ill to sell° yourself: This darkening of your worth is not like that Which tradesmen use i’ th’ city; their false lights Are to rid bad wares off:? and I must tell you, If you will know where breathes a complete man (I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, And progress through yourself. ANTONIO Were there nor heaven Nor hell, I should be honest: I have long served virtue, And ne’er ta’en wages of her. DUCHESS Now she pays it. The misery of us that are born great! We are forced to woo, because none dare woo us; And as a tyrant doubles? with his words

evaluate

speaks ambiguously

And fearfully equivocates, so we Are forced to express our violent passions 1. To conjure up a devil, the necromancer first draws a charmed circle on the ground—like the duchess’s ring.

2. His head as he kneels. 3. Tradesmen in the city display their goods in a poor light so the defects won't be seen.

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In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path Of simple virtue, which was never made To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag You have left me heartless;° mine is in your bosom: I hope ‘twill multiply love there. You do tremble: Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh,

without a heart

To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident:

160

What is ’t distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir; "Tis not the figure cut in alabaster Kneels at my husband’s tomb. Awake, awake, man! I do here put off all vain ceremony, And only do appear to you a young widow That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow,

I use but half a blush in ’t. ANTONIO Truth speak for me, I will remain the constant sanctuary

Of your good name. DUCHESS I thank you, gentle love: And ‘cause® you shall not come to me in debt, Being now my steward, here upon your lips I sign your Quietus est.* This you should have begged now;

so that

I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,

As fearful to devour them too soon. ANTONIO But for your brothers? DUCHESS Do not think of them. All discord without this circumference’ Is only to be pitied, and not feared; Yet, should they know it, time will easily

Scatter the tempest. ANTONIO

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185

These words should be mine,

And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it Would not have savored flattery. DUCHESS Kneel. [CARIOLA comes from behind the arras.| ANTONIO Ha! DUCHESS Be not amazed; this woman’s of my counsel: I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber Per verba de presenti® is absolute marriage. [She and antonio kneel. Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian,° which let violence knot Never untwine! ANTONIO And may our sweet affections, like the spheres, Be still° in motion! constantly DUCHESS Quickening,°? and make giving life The like soft music!7 ANTONIO That we may imitate the loving palms, 4, The legal formula for marking a bill “paid” or acquitted.

5. Outside this room, or their embrace. 6. “By words in the present tense” (i.e., not a betrothal or promise for the future). In canon law,

the agreement of two parties to consider themselves married is valid with or without priest, cer-

emony, or witness. 7. Like the supposed music ofthe spheres.

THE

195

DUCHESS

IORGMAL

Best emblem of a peaceful marriage, that ne'er Bore fruit, divided! DUCHESS What can the church force more? ANTONIO That fortune may not know an accident, Either ofjoy or sorrow, to divide Our fixéd wishes! DUCHESS How can the church bind faster?° We now are man and wife, and ‘tis the church That must but echo this. Maid, stand apart:§ I now am blind. ANTONIO What’s your conceit® in this? DUCHESS I would have you lead your fortune by the hand Unto your marriage bed (You speak in me this, for we now are one); We'll only lie, and talk together, and plot To appease my humorous°® kindred; and if you please,

Fi

2a

|

MSS

tighter

idea

choleric

Like the old tale in Alexander and Lodowick, 200

205

Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste.’ Oh, let me shroud my blushes in your bosom, Since ‘tis the treasury of all my secrets! [Exeunt DUCHESS and ANTONIO.| CARIOLA Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows A fearful madness: I owe her much of pity. [Exit.] Act 2

SCENE

|. The scene continues.

[Enter BOSOLA and CASTRUCCIO.]

10

BOSOLA You say you would fain be taken for an eminent courtier? castruccio Tis the very main of my ambition. BOSOLA Let me see: you have a reasonable good face for ’t already, and your nightcap expresses your ears sufficient largely. | would have you learn to twirl the strings of your band' with a good grace, and in a set speech, at th’ end of every sentence, to hum three or four times, or blow your nose till it smart again, to recover your memory. When you come to be a president? in criminal causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him, but if you frown upon him and threaten him, let him be sure to ‘scape the gallows. castruccio I would be a very merry president. Do not sup o’ nights; ‘twill beget you an admirable wit. BosoLa Rather it would make me have a good stomach’ to quarrel; castruccio for they say, your roaring boys* eat meat seldom, and that makes them

8. The phrase is addressed to Cariola as the duchess shuts her eyes and rejects all support.

9, Alexander and Lodowick were look-alike friends in an old ballad. For purely virtuous reasons, one slept with the wife of the other, but with the pre-

caution indicated.

2.1 1. The elaborate

ruff of the day had strings

attached to it. 2. Presiding magistrate. 3. Disposition. 4. London town bullies.

1136

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

so valiant. But how shall I know whether the people take me for an eminent fellow? BOSOLA _I will teach a trick to know it: give out you lie a-dying, and if you hear the common people curse you, be sure you are taken for one of the prime nightcaps.°* [Enter an OLD LADY.| 20

25

You come from painting now? OLD LADY From what? BOSOLA Why, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold thee not painted inclines somewhat near a miracle; these in thy face here were deep ruts and foul sloughs the last progress.° There was a lady in France that, having had the smallpox, flayed the skin off her face to make it more level; and whereas

30

35

40

before she looked like a nutmeg grater, after she

resembled an abortive hedgehog. OLD LADY Do you call this painting? BOSOLA No, no, but you call it careening of an old morphewed lady, to make her disembogue again: there’s rough-cast phrase to your plastic.’ OLD LADY It seems you are well acquainted with my closet.

BOSOLA One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews’ spittle, and their young children’s ordure; and all these for the face. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of the plague than kiss one of you fasting.® Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him renew his footcloth with the spring, and change his high-prized courtesan with the fall of the leaf? I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves. Observe my meditation now: What thing is in this outward form of man To be beloved? We account it ominous,

45

50

If nature do produce a colt, or lamb, A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling A man, and fly from ’t as a prodigy:° Man stands amazed to see his deformity In any other creature but himself. But in our own flesh, though we bear diseases Which have their true names only ta’en from beasts— As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle!— Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, And though continually we bear about us A rotten and dead body, we delight

evil omen

To hide it in rich tissue: all our fear,

Nay, all our terror, is lest our physician 5. Lawyers (who wore a white coif or skullcap; cf. line 4, above). 6. A progress was a formal royal journey of state. 7. Scraping (“careening”) of an old, scaly (“morphewed”) ship (“lady”) to fit her for the ocean (“making her disembogue”) again. All these metaphors are applied to the model (“plastic”) of the lady’s condition as “rough-cast,” a mixture of lime and gravel, is troweled over a base. 8. Centuries of traditional invective about women’s cosmetic practices lie behind this speech.

Freshly killed pigeons were applied to the feet of plague victims to draw off the infection; fasting was supposed to cause bad breath.

9. The physician grows rich on those who have outworn their youth; every spring he buys a new harness for his horse and every fall a new mistress for himself. 1. “Wolf”: cancer or lupus; “measle”: an infection of swine, sometimes confused with human

measles.

THE

55

DUCHESS,

OFA

MAL RIF 2%.1

|

LUZ

Should put us in the ground to be made sweet— Your wife’s gone to Rome: you two couple, and get you To the wells at Lucca to recover your aches.” [Exeunt CASTRUCCIO and OLD LADY.|

60

I have other work on foot. I observe our duchess Is sick a-days: she pukes, her stomach seethes, The fins of her eyelids look most teeming blue, She wanes i’ th’ cheek, and waxes fat i’ th’ flank,

65

70

And contrary to our Italian fashion, Wears a loose-bodied gown: there’s somewhat in 't. I have a trick may chance discover it, A pretty one; I have bought some apricots, The first our spring yields. [Enter ANTONIO and DELIO, talking apart.| DELIO And so long since married? You amaze me. ANTONIO Let me seal your lips forever: For, did I think that anything but th’ air Could carry these words from you, I should wish You had no breath at all. [turning to BosoLa| Now, sir, in your contemplation? You are studying to become a great

wise fellow? BOSOLA 75

Oh, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter’ that runs all over

a man’s body. If simplicity* direct us to have no evil, it directs us to a happy being, for the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom. Let me be simply honest. ANTONIO I do understand your inside. BOSOLA

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85

slow pace will both suit my disposition and business; for, mark me, when a man’s mind rides faster than his horse can gallop, they quickly both tire.

You would look up to heaven, but I think ANTONIO The devil, that rules i’ th’ air, stands in your light. BosoLa

90

Do you sor

ANTONIO Because you would not seem to appear to th’ world Puffed up with your preferment, you continue This out-of-fashion melancholy. Leave it, leave it. BOSOLA Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any compliment whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? I look no higher than I can reach: they are the gods that must ride on winged horses. A lawyer’s mule of a

Oh, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,’ chief man with the duchess;

a duke was your cousin-german removed.° Say you were lineally descended from King Pepin,’ or he himself, what of this? Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find them but bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes were brought forth by some more weighty cause than those of meaner persons: they are deceived, there’s the same hand to them; the like passions sway them; the same reason that makes a

2. The wells at Lucca are the mineral springs at nearby Montecatini, renowned as a place to “take the cure.” Aches are a symptom of syphilis. 3. Skin disease. 4. Foolishness.

5. In astrology, the predominating influence, controlling destiny. 6. First cousin once removed. 7. Father of Charlemagne, hence source of a great dynasty.

1138

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JOHN

WEBSTER

vicar go to law for a tithe-pig® and undo his neighbors, makes them spoil a whole province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon. [Enter DUCHESS and LADIES.|

DUCHESS Your arm, Antonio; do I not grow fat? I am exceeding short-winded. Bosola, I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter, 100

Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in. BOSOLA The duchess used one when she was great with child. pucHEss [| think she did. Come hither, mend my ruff, Here, when? Thou art such a tedious® lady, and

clumsy

Thy breath smells of lemon peels;? would thou hadst done; Shall I swoon under thy fingers? I am So troubled with the mother!! BOSOLA [aside]

110

I fear too much.

DUCHESS I have heard you say that the French courtiers Wear their hats on ’fore the king. ANTONIO I have seen it. DUCHESS In the presence? ANTONIO Yes. DUCHESS Why should not we bring up that fashion? ’Tis Ceremony more than duty that consists In the removing of a piece of felt. Be you the example to the rest 0’ th’ court; Put on your hat first. ANTONIO You must pardon me. I have seen, in colder countries than in France, Nobles stand bare to th’ prince, and the distinction

Methought showed reverently. BOSOLA I have a present for your grace. DUCHESS

BOSOLA DUCHESS 120

For me, sir?

Apricots, madam. O, sir, where are they?

I have heard of none to-year. BOSOLA [aside| Good: her color rises. DUCHESS Indeed, I thank you: they are wondrous fair ones. What an unskillful fellow is our gardener! We shall have none this month. BOSOLA Will not your grace pare them? DUCHESS No. They taste of musk, methinks; indeed they do. BOSOLA I know not: yet I wish your grace had pared ’em. DUCHESS Why? BOSOLA I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener, Only to raise his profit by them the sooner, Did ripen them in horse dung.” DUCHESS O, you jest. You shall judge: pray taste one. 8. A parson was entitled to a tenth (“tithe”) of his parishioners’ annual profit and was often paid in crops or livestock, but was thought mean if he sued for a petty sum.

9. Lemon peels, chewed to sweeten the breath. 1. Heartburn, but with a second meaning not lost on Bosola. 2. Which grows warm as it decomposes.

WlaWe

130

|

ANTONIO

(BHCKeIANESS

KONe

WV iblell

22

|

ss)

Indeed, madam,

I do not love the fruit.

135

140

145

DUCHESS Sir, you are loath To rob us of our dainties: ‘tis a delicate fruit; They say they are restorative. BOSOLA "Tis a pretty art, This grafting. DUCHESS "Tis so; a bettering of nature. BOSOLA To make a pippin grow upon a crab,° crab apple A damson on a blackthorn. [aside] How greedily she eats them! A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!? For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown, I should have discovered apparently°® certainly The young springal® cutting a caper in her belly. fellow DUCHESS I thank you, Bosola. They were right good ones, If they do not make me sick. ANTONIO How now, madam? DUCHESS This green fruit and my stomach are not friends; How they swell me! BOSOLA [aside] Nay, you are too much swelled already. puUCHESS Qh, I am in an extreme cold sweat! BOSOLA I am very sorry. DUCHESS Lights to my chamber! O good Antonio, I fear | am undone! DELIO

150

155

160

Lights there, lights! [Exeunt DUCHESS and LaApiEs. Exit, on the other side, BosoLa.|

ANTONIO. O my most trusty Delio, we are lost! I fear she’s fall’n in labor; and there’s left No time for her remove. DELIO Have you prepared Those ladies to attend her? And procured That politic® safe conveyance for the midwife Your duchess plotted? ANTONIO I have. DELIO Make use, then, of this forced occasion: Give out that Bosola hath poisoned her With these apricots; that will give some color For her keeping close. ANTONIO Fie, fie, the physicians Will then flock to her. DELIO For that you may pretend She’ll use some prepared antidote of her own, Lest the physicians should re-poison her. [am lost in amazement:° | know not what ANTONIO. [Exeunt.| to think on ’t.

3. Early hoopskirts, capable of concealing the figure.

secret

confusion

1140

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

SCENE 2. The scene continues. [Enter BOSOLA.|

BOSOLA So, so, there’s no question but her tetchiness' and most vulturous eating of the apricots are apparent signs of breeding. [Enter an OLD LADY.|

Now?

OLD LADY na

10

| am in haste, sir.

BOSOLA There was a young waiting woman had a monstrous desire to see the glasshouse?— OLD LADY Nay, pray let me go. BOSOLA And it was only to know what strange instrument it was should swell up a glass to the fashion of a woman’s belly. oLp LADy I will hear no more of the glasshouse. You are still’ abusing women! BOSOLA Who, I? No; only by the way now and then mention your frailties. The orange tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms all together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love, but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well, but drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that rained in the time ofJupiter the thunderer, you have the same Danaés still,* to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study the mathematics? OLD LADY

What’s that, sir?

BOSOLA Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one center. Go, go, give your foster daughters good counsel: tell them that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman’s girdle, like a false rusty watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes.

[Exit OLD LADy.]

[Enter ANTONIO, DELIO, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN.|

ANTONIO RODERIGO i) na

Why, sir? What’s the danger? ANTONIO Shut up the posterns presently,’ and call All the officers o’ th’ court. GRISOLAN

30

Shut up the courtgates.

I shall instantly.

ANTONIO.

Who keeps the key o’ th’ park gate?

RODERIGO ANTONIO

Let him bring ’t presently.

[Exit.|

Forobosco.

[Reenter GRISOLAN with SERVANTS. | | SERVANT O, gentlemen o’ the court, the foulest treason! BOSOLA [aside] If that these apricots should be poisoned now,

Without my knowledge! | SERVANT There was taken even now A Switzer® in the duchess’ bedchamber—

2 SERVANT | sERVANT BOSOLA

2.2 ee, 1. Irritability. 2. Where bottles were blown, near the theater in

Blackfriars. 3. Always.

Swiss guard

A Switzer? With a pistol in his great codpiece.° Ha, ha, ha!

4. Jupiter's success in wooing Danaé in a shower of gold traditionally illustrated female venality. 5. At once. “Posterns”: outer gates. 6. An outsize flap worn on the front of men’s trunk hose.

PES

35

40

DUCHESS

50

55

sMiAEr

] sERVANT The codpiece was the case for ’t. 2 SERVANT There was A cunning traitor: who would have searched his codpiece? ] seRVANT True, if he had kept out of the ladies’ chambers. And all the molds of his buttons were leaden bullets. 2 SERVANT O wicked cannibal! A firelock® in ’s codpiece! | SERVANT “Twas a French plot, Upon my life. 2 SERVANT To see what the devil can do! ANTONIO Are all the officers here? SERVANTS We are. ANTONIO

45

Or

P272

|

1141

pistol

Gentlemen,

We have lost much plate’ you know, and but this evening Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats, Are missing in the duchess’ cabinet. Are the gates shut? SERVANT Yes. ANTONIO "Tis the duchess’ pleasure Each officer be locked into his chamber Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys Of all their chests and of their outward doors Into her bedchamber. She is very sick. RODERIGO At her pleasure. ANTONIO She entreats you take ’t not ill: The innocent shall be the more approved by it. BOSOLA Gentlemen o’ th’ wood-yard, where’s your Switzer now? l servANT By this hand, ’twas credibly reported by one o’ th’ black guard.* [Exeunt all except ANTONIO and DELIO.| DELIO How fares it with the duchess? ANTONIO She’s exposed Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear.

DELIO. Speak to her all happy comfort. ANTONIO How I do play the fool with mine own danger! You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome; My life lies in your service. DELIO Do not doubt me. 60

ANTONIO.

Oh, ’tis far from me, and yet fear presents me

Somewhat that looks like danger. DELIO

65

Believe it,

’Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more; How superstitiously we mind our evils! The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, Or singing of a cricket, are of power To daunt whole man? in us. Sir, fare you well:

all courage

I wish you all the joys of a blessed father: 7. Massive gold and silver dishes, a frequent form of wealth in the days before banks.

8. Kitchen scullions. The “wood-yard” is a source of firewood for kitchen and fireplaces.

1142

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JOHN

WEBSTER

And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast, Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.

[Exit.|

[Enter CARIOLA.]

CARIOLA _ Sir, you are the happy father of a son: Your wife commends him to you. ANTONIO Blessed comfort! For heaven’s sake tend her well: I'll presently Go set a figure for ’s nativity.”

[Exeunt.|

SCENE 3. The scene continues. [Enter BOSOLA, with a dark lantern.| BOSOLA Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha! And the sound came, if I received it right,

wi

From the duchess’ lodgings. There’s some stratagem In the confining all our courtiers To their several° wards: I must have part of it; My intelligence will freeze else.' List, again! It may be ‘twas the melancholy bird,

separate

Best friend of silence and of solitariness, The owl, that screamed so. Ha! Antonio? [Enter ANTONIO with a candle, his sword drawn.|

ANTONIO I heard some noise. Who’s there? What art thou? Speak. BOSOLA Antonio? Put not your face nor body To such a forced expression of fear. I am Bosola, your friend.

ANTONIO Bosola! [aside] This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not A noise even now? BOSOLA

From whence?

ANTONIO BOSOLA

Not I. Did you?

ANTONIO BOSOLA

I did, or else I dreamed. _Let’s walk towards it.

From the duchess’ lodging.

ANTONIO

No, it may be ’twas

But the rising of the wind. BOSOLA Very likely. Methinks ’tis very cold, and yet you sweat: You look wildly. ANTONIO I have been setting a figure? For the duchess’ jewels. BOSOLA Ah, and how falls your question? Do you find it radical?° What’s that to you? ANTONIO ‘Tis rather to be questioned what design, When all men were commanded to their lodgings, Makes you a nightwalker. 9, Cast his horoscope right away. 2S 1. All my news will be cold otherwise.

significant

2. Establishing the loss involved. But Bosola takes the expression astrologically, as if Antonio were casting a horoscope.

TENE

25

DIWICHIES:S)

2OiR SMU

Tal

e299)

1143

BOSOLA In sooth, Ill tell you: Now all the court’s asleep, I thought the devil Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers; And if it do offend you I do so,

You are a fine courtier. ANTONIO [aside] 30

35

40

This fellow will undo me.

You gave the duchess apricots today: Pray heaven they were not poisoned! BOSOLA Poisoned? A Spanish fig? For the imputation! ANTONIO Traitors are ever confident Till they are discovered. There were jewels stolen, too; In my conceit,° none are to be suspected More than yourself. BOSOLA You are a false steward. ANTONIO. Saucy slave, I'll pull thee up by the roots. BOSOLA May be the ruin will crush you to pieces. ANTONIO You are an impudent snake indeed, sir: Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting? You libel well, sir. BOSOLA No, sir: copy it out, And I will set my hand to ’t.* ANTONIO [aside]

45

My nose bleeds.

One that were superstitious would count This ominous, when it merely comes by chance: Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,’ Are drowned in blood! Mere accident.—For you, sir, I'll take order I’ th’ morn you shall be safe.° [aside] Tis that must color

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60

opinion

under guard

giving birth Her lying-in.°—Sir, this door you pass not: I do not hold it fit that you come near cleared The duchess’ lodgings, till you have quit® yourself. [aside] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same, [Exit.| When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. BOSOLA Antonio hereabout did drop a paper: Some of your help, false friend: [opening his lantern] Oh, here it is. {reads} What’s here? A child’s nativity calculated? “The duchess was delivered of a son, ‘tween the hours twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504,”—that’s this year—"“decimo nono Decembris,’°—that’s this night—“taken according to the meridian of Malfi”—that’s our duchess: happy discovery! “The lord of the first house being combust’ in the ascendant, signifies short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. Caetera non scrutantur.”®

Why, now ’tis most apparent: this precise® fellow 3. An obscene gesture, which Bosola doubtless makes onstage. 4. Bosola denies the charge, not by denying malig-

nancy, but by offering to publish it.

5. Embroidered on the handkerchief. 6. December 19.

officious

7. Burned up; i.e., the ruling planet is close to the sun. 8. “The rest is not examined”—i.e., the horoscope is incomplete. Mars and the Dragon are sinister signs, even separately; fatal together.

1144

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JOHN

WEBSTER

Is the duchess’ bawd:° I have it to my wish! This is a parcel of intelligency Our courtiers were cased up for: it needs must follow That I must be committed on pretense Of poisoning her; which I'll endure, and laugh at. If one could find the father now! But that Time will discover. Old Castruccio l th’ morning posts to Rome: by him Ill send A letter that shall make her brothers’ galls O’erflow their livers. This was a thrifty° way. Though lust do mask in ne’er so strange disguise, She’s oft found witty, but is never wise. [Exit. |

procurer

shrewd

SCENE 4. The palace of the CARDINAL at Rome. [Enter CARDINAL and JULIA.| CARDINAL Sit. Thou art my best of wishes. Prithee, tell me What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome

vi

Without thy husband. JULIA Why, my lord, I told him I came to visit an old anchorite® Here for devotion. CARDINAL Thou are a witty false one—

hermit

I mean, to him.

JULIA You have prevailed with me Beyond my strongest thoughts! I would not now Find you inconstant. CARDINAL Do not put thyself To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds

20

Out of your own guilt. JULIA How, my lord? CARDINAL You fear My constancy, because you have approved® Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself. juLia Did you e’er find them? CARDINAL Sooth, generally for women; A man might strive to make glass malleable, Ere he should make them fixed. JULIA So, my lord. CARDINAL We had need go borrow that fantastic glass Invented by Galileo the Florentine! To view another spacious world i’ th’ moon, And look to find a constant woman there. JULIA This is very well, my lord. CARDINAL Why do you weep? Are tears your justification? The selfsame tears

experienced

Will fall into your husband’s bosom, lady, 2.4 1. In 1504, Galileo's telescope was more than one hundred years in the future, but the reference was

topical for Webster's audience.

THE

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40

“OFF

IMALPI >224

|

1145

With a loud protestation that you love him Above the world. Come, I'll love you wisely, That’s jealously, since I am very certain You cannot make me cuckold. JULIA 'll go home To my husband. CARDINAL

30

DUCHESS

You may thank me, lady,

I have taken you off your melancholy perch, Bore you upon my fist, and showed you game, And let you fly at it.? I pray thee, kiss me. When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watched Like a tame elephant: still you are to thank me: Thou hadst only kisses from him and high feeding; But what delight was that? "Twas just like one That hath a little fingering on the lute, Yet cannot tune it: still you are to thank me. JULIA You told me of a piteous wound i’ th’ heart And a sick liver, when you wooed me first, And spake like one in physic.* [A knock is heard.| CARDINAL Who's that? Rest firm,° for my affection to thee, Lightning moves

be assured

slow to ’t.°

by comparison

[Enter SERVANT.|

SERVANT Madan, a gentleman, That’s come post from Malfi, desires to see you. CARDINAL Let him enter. I'll withdraw. SERVANT He says Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome,

Most pitifully tired with riding post.’

[Exit.]

[Exit.]

juLiA

[Enter DELIO.] Signor Delio! [aside|—'tis one of my old suitors.

DELIO_

I was bold to come and see you. Sir, you are welcome.

JULIA

Do you lie® here? DELIO Sure, your own experience JULIA Will satisfy you no: our Roman prelates Do not keep lodging for ladies. DELIO Very well. I have brought you no commendations from your husband, For I know none by him. JULIA DELIO.

lodge

I hear he’s come to Rome. beast, of a horse and a knight, and man knew I never

So weary of each other: if he had had a good back,

55

He would have undertook to have borne his horse,

His breech was so pitifully sore. Your laughter JULIA Is my pity. 2. The cardinal speaks of himself as a falconer training a bird (Julia). 3. Like a person under a doctor’s care.

4. When riding post, one changed horses at regular intervals without stopping to rest oneself.

1146

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JOHN

DELIO

WEBSTER

Lady, I know not whether

You want money, but I have brought you some. JULIA From my husband? 60

DELIO juLia DELIO yutiA_

No, from mine own allowance. I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it. Look on 't, ’tis gold: hath it not a fine color? | have a bird more beautiful.

DELIO. JULIA

Try the sound on 't. A lute string far exceeds it:

It hath no smell, like cassia or civet;

Nor is it physical,° though some fond® doctors Persuade us seethe ’t in cullises:° I'll tell you, This is a creature bred by—

65

medicinal / foolish broth

[Reenter SERVANT. |

SERVANT

Your husband’s come,

Hath delivered a letter to the Duke of Calabria That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits. juLiA

~sIvw

80

[Exit.]

Sir, you hear:

Pray, let me know your business and your suit As briefly as can be. DELIO With good speed: I would wish you, At such time as you are nonresident With your husband, my mistress. juLia Sir, P'Il go ask my husband if I shall, And straight return your answer. [Exit.] DELIO Very fine! Is this her wit, or honesty,° that speaks thus? I heard one say the duke was highly moved With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear Antonio is betrayed: how fearfully Shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune! They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun, Who the event weigh ere the action’s done.°

chastity

[Exit.]

SCENE 5. The scene continues.

[Enter CARDINAL, and FERDINAND with a letter.]

FERDINAND CARDINAL FERDINAND CARDINAL

I have this night digged up a mandrake.! Say you? And I am grown mad with ’t. What’s the prodigy?® fearful wonder

FERDINAND Read there—a sister damned: she’s loose i’ th’ hilts:2 Grown a notorious strumpet.

vi

CARDINAL Speak lower. FERDINAND Lower? Rogues do not whisper ’t now, but seek to publish ’t (As servants do the bounty of their lords) 5. l.e., who judge of actions before seeing their final consequences.

2.5

1. A fabulous root, violently aphrodisiac but also deadly poison. Both aspects apply to Ferdinand. 2. l.e., promiscuous.

;

DME

VDUGHES'S

JOR

aNMAVEah2 5

|

1147

Aloud; and with a covetous searching eye, To mark who note them. O, confusion seize her! 10

She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn, And more secure conveyances for lust Than towns of garrison for service.°

receiving supplies

CARDINAL Is ’t possible? Can this be certain? FERDINAND Rhubarb, oh, for rhubarb To purge this choler!? Here’s the cursed day To prompt my memory, and here 't shall stick Till of her bleeding heart | make a sponge To wipe it out. CARDINAL Why do you make yourself So wild a tempest? FERDINAND

20

Would I could be one,

That I might toss her palace ‘bout her ears, Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads,° And lay her general territory as waste As she hath done her honors. CARDINAL Shall our blood, The royal blood of Aragon and Castile, Be thus attainted? FERDINAND Apply desperate physic:° We must not now use balsamum,° but fire,°

meadows

medicine balm / cautery

The smarting cupping glass* for that’s the mean To purge infected blood, such blood as hers. There is a kind of pity in mine eye, Il give it to my handkercher; and now ’tis here,

I'll bequeath this to her bastard. CARDINAL What to do? 30

40

FERDINAND

Why, to make soft lint for his mother’s wounds,

When I have hewed her to pieces. Cursed creature! CARDINAL Unequal nature, to place women’s hearts So far upon the left side!” FERDINAND Foolish men, That e’er will trust their honor in a bark Made of so slight weak bulrush as is woman, Apt every minute to sink it! Thus ignorance, when it hath purchased honor, CARDINAL It cannot wield it. Methinks I see her laughing— FERDINAND to me somewhat, quickly, Talk hyena! Excellent Or my imagination will carry me To see her in the shameful act of sin. CARDINAL With whom? Haply°? with some strong-thighed bargeman, FERDINAND 3. Rhubarb, as a laxative, was thought curative of the high pressures of hot rage. 4. By which people were bled.

perhaps

5. The left is the sinister side, associated with bad luck, deceit, and passion.

1148

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

Or one o’ th’ wood-yard that can quoit the sledge®

throw the hammer

Or toss the bar,° or else some lovely squire

That carries coal up to her privy lodgings. CARDINAL You fly beyond your reason. FERDINAND

Go to, mistress!

'Tis not your whore’s milk that shall quench my wild fire, But your whore’s blood. CARDINAL How idly shows this rage, which carries you, As men conveyed by witches through the air, On violent whirlwinds! This intemperate noise Fitly resembles deaf men’s shrill discourse,

Who talk aloud,° thinking all other men To have their imperfection. 55

60

FERDINAND My palsy?

loudly

Have not you

CARDINAL Yes, I can be angry, but Without this rupture: there is not in nature A thing that makes man so deformed, so beastly, As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself. You have divers men who never yet expressed Their strong desire of rest but by unrest, By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself In tune. FERDINAND So; I will only study to seem The thing I am not. I could kill her now,

65

In you, or in myself; for I do think It is some sin in us heaven doth revenge By her. CARDINAL Are you stark mad? FERDINAND I would have their bodies Burnt in a coal pit with the ventage® stopped,

chimney

That their cursed smoke might not ascend to heaven;

Or dip the sheets they lie in in pitch or sulphur, Wrap them in ’t, and then light them like a match; Or else to boil their bastard to a cullis,°

broth

And give 't his lecherous father to renew°®

repair

The sin of his back.’ CARDINAL I'll leave you. FERDINAND

Nay, I have done.

I am confident, had I been damned in hell,

80

And should have heard of this, it would have put me Into a cold sweat. In, in; I'll go sleep. Till I know who leaps my sister, I’Il not stir: That known, I'll find scorpions to string my whips,® And fix her in a general eclipse. [Exeunt.|

6. Gross tests of strength. 7. As Atreus did to Thyestes in Greek legend. “The sin of his back”: sexual capacity. 8. Tipping the thongs of a whip with “scorpions”

(tips of jagged steel or lead that sting and bite the flesh) is an old metaphor for aggravated punishment.

(HES

DIU GES

os Oe

MALE

ona

|

1149

Act 3

SCENE 1. Amalfi. [Enter ANTONIO and DELIO.|

ANTONIO Our noble friend, my most belovéd Delio! Oh, you have been a stranger long at court; Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand? pDELIO I did, sir. And how fares your noble duchess? ANTONIO Right fortunately well: she’s an excellent Feeder of pedigrees; since you last saw her, She hath had two children more, a son and daughter. DELIO. Methinks ‘twas yesterday: let me but wink, And not behold your face, which to mine eye Is somewhat leaner, verily | should dream It were within this half-hour. ANTONIO You have not been in law, friend Delio, Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court,

Nor begged the reversion of some great man’s place, Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make Your time so insensibly°® hasten. DELIO

imperceptibly

Pray, sir, tell me,

Hath not this news arrived yet to the ear Of the Lord Cardinal? ANTONIO I fear it hath: The Lord Ferdinand, that’s newly come to court, Doth bear himself right dangerously. 20

DELIO

Pray, why?

ANTONIO He is so quiet that he seems to sleep The tempest out, as dormice do in winter. Those houses that are haunted are most still Till the devil be up. What say the common people? DELIO ANTONIO. The common rabble do directly say She is a strumpet. DELIO And your graver heads, Which would be politic,° what censure® they? They do observe I grow to infinite purchase ANTONIO. The left-hand way,! and all suppose the duchess Would amend it, if she could; for, say they,

30

Great princes, though they grudge their officers Should have such large and unconfined means To get wealth under them, will not complain, Lest thereby they should make them odious Unto the people; for other obligation Of love or marriage between her and me They never dream of.

35

3a

1. Le., they think I am getting rich dishonestly.

statesmanlike / opine

1150

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

DELIO Is going to bed.

The Lord Ferdinand

[Enter DUCHESS, FERDINAND, and BOSOLA.|

40

wT vi

FERDINAND I'll instantly to bed, For I am weary.—I am to bespeak A husband for you. DUCHESS For me, sir? Pray, who is ’t? FERDINAND ‘The great Count Malateste. DUCHESS Fie upon him! A count? He’s a mere stick of sugar candy; You may look quite through him. When I choose A husband, I will marry for your honor. FERDINAND You shall do well in ’t.—How is ’t, worthy Antonio? DUCHESS But, sir, | am to have private conference with you About a scandalous report is spread Touching mine honor. FERDINAND Let me be ever deaf to 't: One of Pasquil’s paper bullets,* court-calumny, A pestilent air, which princes’ palaces Are seldom purged of. Yet, say that it were true, I pour it in your bosom, my fixed love Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny Faults, were they apparent in you. Go, be safe In your own innocency. DUCHESS [aside] O blesséd comfort! This deadly air is purged. [Exeunt DUCHESS, ANTONIO, and DELIO.|

FERDINAND Her guilt treads on Hot-burning coulters.* Now, Bosola, How thrives our intelligence?° BOSOLA Sir, uncertainly:

detective work

"Tis rumored she hath had three bastards, but 60

By whom, we may go read i’ th’ stars. FERDINAND Why, some Hold opinion all things are written there. BOSOLA Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them. I do suspect there hath been some sorcery Used on the duchess. FERDINAND Sorcery? To what purpose? BOSOLA To make her dote on some desertless fellow She shames to acknowledge. FERDINAND Can your faith give way To think there’s power in potions or in charms, To make us love whether we will or no? BOSOLA Most certainly. FERDINAND Away! These are mere gulleries,° horrid things, 2. Anonymous satires were traditionally pasted on the statue of Pasquillo, or Pasquino, near Piazza Navona in Rome, and attributed to his authorship.

deceits

3. Medieval chastity inquests customarily required the questioned lady to walk barefoot over red-hot plowshares (“coulters”).

TablERD

75

80

90

SM@:

EaiNivat lstallies 2

Invented by some cheating mountebanks* To abuse us. Do you think that herbs or charms Can force the will? Some trials have been made In this foolish practice, but the ingredients Were lenitive® poisons, such as are of force To make the patient mad; and straight the witch Swears by equivocation they are in love. The witchcraft lies in her rank° blood. This night I will force confession from her. You told me You had got, within these two days, a false° key Into her bedchamber. BOSOLA I have. FERDINAND As I would wish. BOSOLA What do you intend to do? FERDINAND Can you guess? BOSOLA No. FERDINAND

85

WIG HiES

|

1151

slow-working wanton unauthorized

Do not ask, then:

He that can compass® me, and know my drifts,° May say he hath put a girdle ‘bout the world, And sounded all her quicksands. BOSOLA I do not Think so. FERDINAND What do you think, then, pray? BOSOLA That you Are your own chronicle too much, and grossly Flatter yourself. FERDINAND Give me thy hand; I thank thee: I ne'er gave pension but to flatterers, Till I entertained® thee. Farewell. That friend a great man’s ruin strongly checks, Who rails into his belief all his defects.

comprehend / purposes

employed [Exeunt.|

SCENE 2. The bedchamber of the DUCHESS. [Enter DUCHESS, ANTONIO, and CARIOLA.|

pucHess Bring me the casket hither, and the glass. You get no lodging here tonight, my lord. ANTONIO Indeed, I must persuade one. DUCHESS Very good: I hope in time ’twill grow into a custom, That noblemen shall come with cap and knee To purchase a night’s lodging of their wives. I must lie here. ANTONIO Must! You are a lord of misrule.' DUCHESS Indeed, my rule is only in the night. ANTONIO To what use will you put me? DUCHESS We'll sleep together. ANTONIO find in sleep? lovers two can pleasure what Alas, pucHess' 4. A mixture

of street entertainer and patent

medicine salesman.

3.2

i

H

pes

|

1. The mock-monarch of a carnival festival.

Lilo

|

CARIOLA

JOHN

WEBSTER

My lord, I lie with her often, and I know

She'll much disquiet you. ANTONIO See, you are complained of. CARIOLA For she’s the sprawling’st bedfellow. I shall like her ANTONIO The better for that. CARIOLA Sir, shall I ask you a question? ANTONIO I pray thee, Cariola. CARIOLA Wherefore still,° when you lie with my lady, Do you rise so early? ANTONIO Laboring men

always

Count the clock oftenest, Cariola,

Are glad when their task’s ended. DUCHESS I'll stop your mouth. ANTONIO Nay, that’s but one; Venus had two soft doves 20

[Kisses him.]

To draw her chariot; I must have another— _ [She kisses him again.| When wilt thou marry, Cariola? CARIOLA

Never, my lord.

ANTONIO Oh, fie upon this single life! Forgo it. We read how Daphne, for her peevish flight, Became a fruitless bay tree; Syrinx turned to vi

30

35

40

To the pale empty reed; Anaxarete Was frozen into marble: whereas those Which married, or proved kind unto their friends, Were by a gracious influence trans-shaped Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry, Became

flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars. 2

CARIOLA This is a vain poetry, but I pray you tell me, If there were proposed me, wisdom, riches, and beauty, In three several young men, which should I choose? ANTONIO ’Tis a hard question: this was Paris’ case, And he was blind in ’t, and there was great cause; For how was ’t possible he could judge right, Having three amorous goddesses in view, And they stark naked? Twas a motion? Were able to benight the apprehension Of the severest counselor of Europe. Now I look on both your faces so well formed, It puts me in mind of a question I would ask. CARIOLA What is ’t? ANTONIO I do wonder why hard-favored ladies, For the most part, keep worse-favored waiting women To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones. 2. The olive was created by Athena; the mulberry gained its color from the blood of Pyramus and Thisbe; the pomegranate seems to have no particular mythological origin. Most of the other stories of ladies being transformed for complying, or not complying, with the solicitations of a god are from

Ovid's Metamorphoses. 3. Spectacle. Paris had to choose among Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, goddesses of regal power, wisdom, and love; his selecting the third led to the

Trojan War.

Wink=

pucCHESS§

60

[DNGKE NESS:

KOE

simlvWelelh

3)

ito

Qh, that’s soon answered.

Did you ever in your life know an ill painter Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop Of an excellent picture-maker? "Twould disgrace His face-making, and undo him. I prithee, When were we so merry? My hair tangles. ANTONIO Pray thee, Cariola, let’s steal forth the room, And let her talk to herself: I have divers times Served her the like, when she hath chafed extremely. [Exeunt ANTONIO and CARIOLA.| I love to see her angry. Softly, Cariola. pucHESS Doth not the color of my hair ‘gin to change? When I wax gray, I shall have all the court Powder their hair with arras,* to be like me. You have cause to love me; I entered you into my heart Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys. [Enter FERDINAND behind.|

65

We shall one day have my brothers take you napping; Methinks his presence, being now in court, Should make you keep your own bed; but you'll say Love mixed with fear is sweetest. I’ll assure you, You shall get no more children till my brothers Consent to be your gossips.’ Have you lost your tongue? [She turns and sees FERDINAND. | ‘Tis welcome: For know, whether I am doomed to live or die,

I can do both like a prince. FERDINAND Die, then, quickly! [Giving her a poniard.°| 70

| «80

Virtue, where art thou hid? What hideous thing

Is it that doth eclipse thee? DUCHESS Pray, sir, hear me. FERDINAND

Or is it true thou art but a bare name,

And no essential® thing? DUCHESS Sir— FERDINAND Do not speak. No, sir: I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you. pucHEess O most imperfect light of human reason, FERDINAND That mak’st us so unhappy to foresee What we can least prevent! Pursue thy wishes, And glory in them: there’s in shame no comfort But to be past all bounds and sense of shame. DUCHESS I pray, sir, hear me. I am married. FERDINAND

So!

Haply,° not to your liking: but for that, pucHEss Alas, your shears do come untimely now To clip the bird’s wings that’s already flown! Will you see my husband?

4. Orris root, used in powdered form to make hair artificially gray.

actual

5. Sponsors in baptism.

6. Aknife.

perhaps

1154

|

FERDINAND

85

JOHN

WEBSTER

Yes, if |could change

Eyes with a basilisk.’ DUCHESS Sure, you came hither By his confederacy. FERDINAND The howling of a wolf Is music to thee, screech owl: prithee, peace. Whate’er thou art that hast enjoyed my sister, For | am sure thou hear’st me, for thine own sake

90

95

Let me not know thee. I came hither prepared To work thy discovery; yet am now persuaded It would beget such violent effects As would damn us both. I would not for ten millions I had beheld thee: therefore use all means I never may have knowledge of thy name; Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life, On that condition. And for thee, vile woman,

100

105

If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old In thy embracements, | would have thee build Such a room for him as our anchorites To holier use inhabit. Let not the sun Shine on him till he’s dead; let dogs and monkeys Only converse with him, and such dumb things To whom nature denies use to sound his name; Do not keep a paraquito,° lest she learn it;

parrot

If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue,

Lest it bewray® him. DUCHESS Why might not I marry? | have not gone about in this to create Any new world or custom. FERDINAND

110

betray

Thou art undone;

And thou hast ta’en that massy sheet of lead That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it

115

120

About my heart. DUCHESS Mine bleeds for ’t. FERDINAND Thine? Thy heart? What should I name ’t unless a hollow bullet Filled with unquenchable wildfire? DUCHESS You are in this Too strict, and were you not my princely brother, I would say, too willful. My reputation

Is safe. FERDINAND Dost thou know what reputation is? I'll tell thee—to small purpose, since the instruction Comes now too late. Upon a time, Reputation, Love, and Death Would travel o’er the world; and it was concluded That they should part, and take three several ways. Death told them, they should find him in great battles 7. Monster that was fabled to kill with a glance,

,

»

THES

125

135

DWCilES

SO aw AL rile oz

Or cities plagued with plagues. Love gives them counsel To inquire for him ’mongst unambitious shepherds, Where dowries were not talked of, and sometimes ’Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left By their dead parents. “Stay,” quoth Reputation, “Do not forsake me; for it is my nature, If once I part from any man I meet, I am never found again.” And so for you: You have shook hands° with Reputation, And made him invisible. So, fare you well. I will never see you more. DUCHESS Why should only I, Of all the other princes of the world, Be cased up, like a holy relic? | have youth And a little beauty. FERDINAND So you have some virgins That are witches. I will never see thee more. [Enter ANTONIO with a pistol, and CARIOLA.|

140

DUCHESS You saw this apparition? ANTONIO Yes. We are Betrayed. How came he hither? I should turn This to thee, for that. [Pointing the pistol at CARIOLA.] CARIOLA

145

150

155

[Exit.|

Pray, sir, do; and when

That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there Mine innocence. DUCHESS That gallery gave him entrance. ANTONIO I would this terrible thing would come again, That, standing on my guard, I might relate [She shows the poniard.| My warrantable® love. Ha! What means this? DUCHESS He left this with me. And it seems did wish ANTONIO You would use it on yourself. DUCHESS His action seemed To intend so much. ANTONIO This hath a handle to ’t As well as a point: turn it towards him, and So fasten the keen edge in his rank gall. [Knocking within. How now! Who knocks? More earthquakes? I stand DUCHESS As if a mine beneath my feet were ready To be blown up. CARIOLA Tis Bosola. DUCHESS Away! O misery! Methinks unjust actions Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we.

You must instantly part hence: I have fashioned it already.

[Exit ANTONIO. |

8. Legitimate, defensible.

Vile)

parted

1156

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

[Enter BOSOLA.|

BoSOLA The duke your brother is ta’en up in a whirlwind, Hath took horse, and ’s rid post to Rome. DUCHESS So late? 160

BOSOLA

He told me, as he mounted into th’ saddle,

You were undone. DUCHESS Indeed, I am very near it. BOSOLA What's the matter? DUCHESS 165

Antonio, the master of our household,

Hath dealt so falsely with me in ’s accounts: My brother stood engaged with me for money Ta’en up of certain Neapolitan Jews, And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit.’ BOSOLA

Strange!—l[aside] This is cunning.

DUCHESS And hereupon My brother's bills at Naples are protested Against.'—Call up our officers. 170

BOSOLA

I shall.

[Exit.]

[Reenter ANTONIO.|

175

pucHEss The place that you must fly to is Ancona: Hire a house there; I'll send after you My treasure and my jewels. Our weak safety Runs upon enginous wheels: short syllables Must stand for periods.* I must now accuse you Of such a feignéd crime as Tasso calls Magnanima menzogna, a noble lie, ‘Cause it must shield our honors. Hark! They are coming. [Reenter BOSOLA and OFFICERS.|

180

ANTONIO Will your grace hear me? DUCHESS I have got well by you; you have yielded me A million of loss: I am like to inherit The people’s curses for your stewardship. You had the trick in audit time to be sick,

Till I had signed your quietus;° and that cured you Without help of a doctor.—Gentlemen, I would have this man be an example to you all; So shall you hold my favor; I pray, let him;°

receipt

release him

For he’s done that, alas, you would not think of, And, because I intend to be rid of him, 190

I mean not to publish. [to ANTONIO] Use your fortune elsewhere. ANTONIO I am strongly armed to brook my overthrow; As commonly men bear with a hard year, I will not blame the cause on ’t; but do think

The necessity of my malevolent star

9. I.e., my brother stood security for some moneyI borrowed from Neapolitan moneylenders; now Antonio has let them call on the duke for payment. 1. I.e., Duke Ferdinand’s checks have bounced. 2. On the Adriatic coast of Italy, across the peninsula from Amalfi and well to the north.

3. Full sentences. “Enginous”: delicately balanced, as in clockwork. The allusion to Tasso (next line) is literally accurate (Jerusalem Delivered 2.22) but anachronistic, since Tasso’s poem was not published until 1574.

Hite

195

200

215

220

IO

RRMA

Rli3sr2

|

US 7

Procures this, not her humor. Oh, the inconstant

And rotten ground of service! You may see, "Tis even like him that in a winter night Takes a long slumber o’er a dying fire, As loath to part from 't; yet parts thence as cold As when he first sat down. DUCHESS We do confiscate, Towards the satisfying of your accounts, All that you have. ANTONIO l am yours, and 'tis very fit All mine should be so. DUCHESS So, sir, you have your pass.° ANTONIO

210

DUCHESS

passport

You may see, gentlemen, what ’tis to serve

A prince with body and soul. [Exit.| BOSOLA Here's an example for extortion: what moisture is drawn out of the sea, when foul weather comes, pours down, and runs into the sea again. pUCHESS' I would know what are your opinions of this Antonio. SECOND OFFICER He could not abide to see a pig’s head gaping: I thought your grace would find him a Jew.* THIRD OFFICER I would you had been his officer, for your own sake. FOURTH OFFICER You would have had more money. FIRST OFFICER He stopped his ears with black wool, and to those came to him for money said he was thick of hearing. SECOND OFFICER Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for he could not abide a woman. FOURTH OFFICER How scurvy proud he would look when the treasury was full! Well, let him go! FIRST OFFICER Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him, to scour his gold chain!” pucHESS

Leave us. [Exeuwnt orFICERS.| What do you think of these?

BOSOLA That these are rogues that in’s prosperity, but to have waited on his fortune, could have wished his dirty stirrup riveted through their noses, and followed after ’s mule, like a bear in a ring; would have prostituted their

daughters to his lust; made their firstborn intelligencers;° thought none happy but such as were born under his blessed planet, and wore his livery: and do these lice drop off now? Well, never look to have the like again:’ he hath left a sort of flattering rogues behind him; their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers in their own money: flatterers dissemble their vices, and they dissemble their lies; that’s justice. Alas, poor gentleman! pucHess Poor? He hath amply filled his coffers. BOSOLA

235

Sure, he was too honest. Pluto, the god of riches, when he ’s sent

by Jupiter to any man, he goes limping, to signify that wealth that comes on God’s name comes slowly; but when he’s sent on the devil’s errand, he rides post and comes in by scuttles. Let me show you what a most unvalued® jewel you have in a wanton humor thrown away, to bless the man

4. Jews were identified by their antipathy to pork, but the assumptions here are deliberately ridiculous. 5. A gold chain was the steward’s traditional badge of office. Bread crumbs (the “chippings of

the buttery”) were used to polish gold and silver plate. 6. Spies. 7. l.e., a servant as good as he was. 8. Invaluable. “By scuttles”: in haste.

1158

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

shall? find him. He was an excellent courtier and most faithful; a soldier

240

245

255

260

265

that thought it as beastly to know his own value too little as devilish to acknowledge it too much. Both his virtue and form deserved a far better fortune: his discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself; his breast was filled with all perfection, and yet it seemed a private whisperingroom, it made so little noise of ’t. DUCHESS But he was basely descended. BosOLA Will you make yourself a mercenary herald, rather to examine men’s pedigrees than virtues? You shall want! him: for know, an honest statesman to a prince is like a cedar planted by a spring; the spring bathes the tree’s root, the grateful tree rewards it with his shadow: you have not done so. I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes? on two politicians’ rotten bladders, tied together with an intelligencer’s heartstring, than depend on so changeable a prince’s favor. Fare thee well, Antonio! Since the malice of the world would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet that any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall was accompanied with virtue. DUCHESS Qh, you render me excellent music! BOSOLA Say your DUCHESS This good one that you speak of is my husband. BOSOLA Do I not dream? Can this ambitious age Have so much goodness in ’t as to prefer A man merely for worth, without these shadows Of wealth and painted honors? Possible? DUCHESS I have had three children by him. BOSOLA Fortunate lady! For you have made your private nuptial bed The humble and fair seminary? of peace. seedbed No question but many an unbeneficed scholar? Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice That some preferment in the world can yet Arise from merit. The virgins of your land That have no dowries shall hope your example Will raise them to rich husbands. Should you want Soldiers, ‘twould make the very Turks and Moors Turn Christians, and serve you for this act.

Nu 70

Last, the neglected poets of your time, In honor of this trophy of a man, Raised by that curious°® engine, your white hand, Shall thank you, in your grave, for ’t; and make that More reverend than all the cabinets Of living princes.* For Antonio, His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, When heralds shall want coats to sell to men.

9. Who shall. 1. Miss. 2. The Bermudas, unknown at the time of the action, but very topical a hundred years later, when the play was written. 3. A scholar without an official appointment.

exquisite

4. She will be more honored in her grave than living princes in their courts. “Cabinets”: council chambers. 5. The Heralds’ College (an English royal corporation) carried on a brisk trade in coats of arms.

THE

280

DUCHESS

OR

UMWALRI HN373:

|

af)

DUCHESS As I taste comfort in this friendly speech, So would I find concealment. BOSOLA Oh, the secret of my prince, Which I will wear on th’ inside of my heart! DUCHESS You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels, And follow him; for he retires himself To Ancona. BOSOLA So. DUCHESS Whither, within few days, I mean to follow thee. BOSOLA Let me think:

290

295

I would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage To our Lady of Loreto,° scarce seven leagues From fair Ancona; so may you depart Your country with more honor, and your flight Will seem a princely progress,° retaining Your usual train about you. DUCHESS Sir, your direction Shall lead me by the hand. CARIOLA In my opinion, She were better progress to the baths at Lucca,

state journey

Or go visit the Spa in Germany; For, if you will believe me, | do not like

This jesting with religion, this feigned Pilgrimage. DUCHESS Thou art a superstitious fool. Prepare us instantly for our departure. Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them; — 300

For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them. [Exit DUCHESS, with CARIOLA.|

BOSOLA

A politician? is the devil’s quilted anvil;

crafty intriguer

He fashions all sins on him, and the blows

305

Are never heard: he may work in a lady’s chamber, As here for proof. What rests° but I reveal All to my lord? Oh, this base quality Of intelligencer! Why, every quality® i’ th’ world Prefers°® but gain or commendation: Now for this act I am certain to be raised, And men that paint weeds to the life are praised.

remains

profession offers

[Exit.]

SCENE 3. Rome.

[Enter CARDINAL, FERDINAND, MALATESTE, PESCARA, SILVIO, DELIO. |

CARDINAL

Must we turn soldier, then?

The Emperor,! MALATESTE Hearing your worth that way, ere you attained This reverend garment, joins you in commission 6. The shrine of the Virgin at Loreto was famous throughout Europe.

3.3

1. The Spanish emperor, Charles V.

1160

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JOHN

WEBSTER

With the right fortunate soldier the Marquis of Pescara, And the famous Lannoy. CARDINAL He that had the honor Of taking the French king prisoner?? MALATESTE The same. Here’s a plot drawn for a new fortification At Naples. [They talk apart.| FERDINAND This great Count Malateste, I perceive, Hath got employment? DELIO No employment, my lord; A marginal note in the muster book, that he is A voluntary lord. FERDINAND ~ He’s no soldier? DELIO. He has worn gunpowder in ’s hollow tooth for the toothache.* siege sitvio He comes to the leaguer® with a full intent To eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stay Till the scent be gone, and straight return to court. DELIO. He hath read all the late service* as the city chronicle relates it, and keeps two painters going, only to express battles in model. sttvio_ Then he’ll fight by the book. DELIO. By the almanac, I think, to choose good days and shun the critical. That’s his mistress’ scarf. sitvio_ Yes, he protests he would do much for that taffeta. DELIO

I think he would run away from a battle, to save it from taking’

prisoner.

sttvio_ DELIO

He is horribly afraid gunpowder will spoil the perfume on ’t. I saw a Dutchman break his pate once for calling him pot-gun;°

he made his head have a bore in ’t like a musket.

I would he had made a touchhole to ’t. He is indeed a guarded sumpter cloth,’ only for the remove of the court.

SILVIO

[Enter BOSOLA and speaks to FERDINAND and the CARDINAL.| 30

PESCARA Bosola arrived? What should be the business? Some falling out amongst the cardinals. These factions amongst great men, they are like Foxes; when their heads are divided,

They carry fire in their tails, and all the country About them goes to wrack for ’t.° SILVIO 35

What's that Bosola?

DELIO I knew him in Padua—a fantastical scholar, like such who study to know how many knots were in Hercules’ club, of what color Achilles’ beard was, or whether Hector were not troubled with the toothache.

He hath studied himself half blear-eyed to know the true symmetry of

2. Charles de Lannoy, Belgian by origin, did indeed capture Francis I at Pavia in 1525, about two decades after the date of the play’s supposed action. “Pescara”: also a commander at Pavia. 3. Saltpeter was sometimes used to relieve a toothache. 4. Recent military operations. 5. Being taken.

6. Popgun. 7. Decorated saddlecloth used only when the court is changing its residence; i.e., he’s only for show. “Touchhole”: where the match was applied

to set off a cannon. 8. Samson once tied some foxes together by the tail and set them afire to burn down the fields of the Philistines (Judges 15).

THE

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VOWGHESS

SOF eM ALES

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1161

Caesar’s nose by a shoeing-horn; and this he did to gain the name of a speculative’ man. PESCARA Mark Prince Ferdinand: A very salamander lives in ’s eye, To mock the eager violence of fire.! sitvio That Cardinal hath made more bad faces with his oppression than ever Michelangelo” made good ones: he lifts up ’s nose, like a foul porpoise before a storm. PESCARA The Lord Ferdinand laughs. DELIO Like a deadly cannon that lightens ere it smokes. PESCARA ‘These are your true pangs of death, The pangs of life, that struggle with great statesmen. DELIO. In such a deformed silence witches whisper Their charms. CARDINAL Doth she make religion her riding hood To keep her from the sun and tempest? FERDINAND That, That damns her. Methinks her fault and beauty,

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65

Blended together, show like leprosy, The whiter, the fouler. I make it a question Whether her beggarly brats were ever christened. CARDINAL I will instantly solicit the state of Ancona To have them banished. FERDINAND You are for Loreto? I shall not be at your ceremony; fare you well. Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephew She had by her first husband, and acquaint him With ’s mother’s honesty. BOSOLA I will. FERDINAND Antonio! A slave that only smelled of ink and counters, And never in’s life looked like a gentleman, But in the audit time. Go, go presently,° Draw me out an hundred and fifty of our horse,° [Exeunt.| And meet me at the fort-bridge.’

at once cavalry

SCENE 4. The shrine of Our Lady of Loreto. [Enter TWO PILGRIMS. |

| have not seen a goodlier shrine than this; FIRST PILGRIM Yet I have visited many. The Cardinal of Aragon SECOND PILGRIM Is this day to resign his cardinal’s hat: His sister duchess likewise is arrived To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect 9. Profound, given to abstruse thoughts. Intense and especially fantastical scholarship was thought to be a cause of melancholy—Bosola’s temperament—caused by an imbalance of black bile. 1. The salamander was supposed to be so cold

and wet of constitution that it could live in fire. 2. Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564), the great Florentine painter and sculptor. Another anachronism. 3. Drawbridge.

1162

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JOHN

WEBSTER

A noble ceremony. FIRST PILGRIM No question. They come. [Here the ceremony of the CARDINALS installment in the habit of a soldier: performed in delivering wp his cross, hat, robes, and ring at the shrine, and investing him with sword, helmet, shield, and

spurs; then ANTONIO, the pucHEss, and their children, having presented themselves at the shrine, are, by a form of banishment in dumb show expressed towards them by the CARDINAL and the state of Ancona, banished: during all which ceremony, this ditty is sung, to very solemn music, by divers churchmen.]'

Arms and honors deck thy story, To thy fame’s eternal glory! Adverse fortune ever fly thee; No disastrous fate come nigh thee! I alone will sing thy praises, Whom to honor virtue raises; And thy study, that divine is,

Bent to martial discipline is. Lay aside all those robes lie by thee; Crown thy arts with arms, they’ll beautify thee. O worthy of worthiest name, adorned in this manner, Lead bravely thy forces on under war’s warlike banner! Oh, mayst thou prove fortunate in all martial courses! Guide thou still by skill in arts and forces! Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy powers; Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour down showers! [Exeunt all except the Two PILGRIMS.| FIRST PILGRIM Here’s a strange turn of state! Who would have thought So great a lady would have matched herself Unto so mean a person? Yet the cardinal Bears himself much too cruel. SECOND PILGRIM They are banished. FIRST PILGRIM But I would ask what power hath this state Of Ancona to determine? of a free prince? SECOND PILGRIM

‘They are a free state, sir, and her brother showed

How that the pope, fore-hearing of her looseness, Hath seized into the protection of the church The dukedom which she held as dowager.’ FIRST PILGRIM But by what justice? SECOND PILGRIM Sure, I think by none, Only her brother’s instigation. FIRST PILGRIM What was it with such violence he took Off from her finger? SECOND PILGRIM "Twas her wedding ring, 3.4 1. This song is not very suitable to the scene, and Webster, in the edition of 1623, denied writing it.

2. Pass judgment on. 3. As widow to her first husband, the Duke of Malf.

EDI

CHESS

Oi

eMrAi rill cairo:

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1163

Which he vowed shortly he would sacrifice To his revenge. FIRST PILGRIM — Alas, Antonio! If that a man be thrust into a well, 40

No matter who sets hands to ’t, his own weight Will bring him sooner to th’ bottom. Come, let’s hence. Fortune makes this conclusion general, All things do help th’ unhappy man to fall. [Exeunt. | SCENE

5. Near Loreto.

[Enter DUCHESS, ANTONIO, CHILDREN, CARIOLA, and SERVANTS.| pucHEss' Banished Ancona! ANTONIO Yes, you see what power Lightens° in great men’s breath. flashes out DUCHESS Is all our train Shrunk to this poor remainder? ANTONIO These poor men, Which have got little in your service, vow To take your fortune, but your wiser buntings,' Now they are fledged, are gone. DUCHESS They have done wisely. This puts me in mind of death: physicians thus, With their hands full of money, use® to give o'er are accustomed Their patients. ANTONIO Right® the fashion of the world: exactly From decayed fortunes every flatterer shrinks; Men cease to build where the foundation sinks. last night pucHEss_ | had a very strange dream tonight.° ANTONIO What was ’t? pucHEss Methought I wore my coronet of state, And on a sudden all the diamonds Were changed to pearls. ANTONIO My interpretation Is, you'll weep shortly, for to me the pearls

20

Do signify your tears. DUCHESS The birds that live I’ th’ field on the wild benefit of nature Live happier than we; for they may choose their mates, And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring. [Enter BosoLa with a letter.|

BOSOLA You are happily o’erta’en. From my brother? DUCHESS BosoLA Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand your brother All love and safety. Thou dost blanch® mischief, DUCHESS See, see, like to calm weather white. it Wouldst make

At sea before a tempest, false hearts speak fair

29

3h) 1. Migratory birds. “Take”: accept.

whitewash

1164

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JOHN

WEBSTER

To those they intend most mischief. {reads| “Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a business.”

A politic equivocation! He doth not want your counsel, but your head; That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead.

And here’s another pitfall that’s strewed o’er With roses: mark it, ‘tis a cunning one: “I stand engaged for your husband for several debts at Naples: let not that trouble him; I had rather have his heart than his money.” And I believe so too. 35

40

BOSOLA What do you believe? DUCHESS That he so much distrusts my husband’s love, He will by no means believe his heart is with him Until he see it: the devil is not cunning Enough to circumvent us in riddles. BOSOLA Will you reject that noble and free league Of amity and love which I present you? pucHESss Their league is like that of some politic® kings, Only to make themselves of strength and power

crafty

To be our after-ruin: tell them so. 45

BOSOLA And what from you? ANTONIO Thus tell him: I will not come. BOSOLA

And what of this? [Pointing to the letter.|

ANTONIO

My brothers have dispersed

Bloodhounds abroad; which till | hear are muzzled,

No truce, though hatched with ne’er such politic skill, Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies’ will. I'll not come at° them.

BOSOLA This proclaims your breeding: Every small thing draws a base mind to fear, As the adamant? draws iron. Fare you well, sir;

wi wi)

60

lodestone

You shall shortly hear from’s. [Exit.| DUCHESS I suspect some ambush; Therefore, by all my love I do conjure you To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan. Let us not venture all this poor remainder In one unlucky bottom.? ANTONIO You counsel safely. Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part, Heaven hath a hand in ’t, but no otherwise Than as some curious artist takes in sunder A clock or watch, when it is out of frame,

To bring ’t in better order. pucHESS

| know not which is best,

To see you dead, or part with you. Farewell, boy: Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding To know thy misery; for all our wit 2. The metaphor is mercantile: let’s not load all our cargo in one ship (“bottom”).

3. Not working. “Curious artist”; clever craftsman.

LE

DUCHESS:

[OR eNaA til

tors

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1165

And reading brings us to a truer sense Of sorrow. In the eternal church,’ sir,

heavenly society

I do hope we shall not part thus. ANTONIO 70

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80

Oh, be of comfort!

Make patience a noble fortitude, And think not how unkindly we are used: Man, like to cassia, is proved best being bruised.* pucHEss Must I, like to a slave-born Russian, Account it praise to suffer tyranny? And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is in 't! I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top,” And compared myself to 't: naught made me e’er Go right but heaven’s scourge stick. ANTONIO Do not weep: Heaven fashioned us of nothing, and we strive To bring ourselves to nothing. Farewell, Cariola, And thy sweet armful. If Ido never see thee more,

85

Be a good mother to your little ones, And save them from the tiger. Fare you well. pucHEss' Let me look upon you once more, for that speech Came from a dying father. Your kiss is colder Than that I have seen an holy anchorite® Give to a dead man’s skull. ANTONIO. My heart is turned to a heavy lump of lead, With which I sound® my danger. Fare you well.

hermit

[Exeunt ANTONIO and his son.| 90

95

100

pucHess My laurel is all withered. CARIOLA Look, madam, what a troop of arméd men Make toward us. DUCHESS Oh, they are very welcome: When Fortune’s wheel’ is overcharged with princes, The weight makes it move swift: I would have my ruin Be sudden. masked [Enter BOSOLA vizarded,° with a guard.| I am your adventure,* am I not? BOSOLA You are. You must see your husband no more. pucuEess What devil art thou that counterfeits heaven’s thunder? Is that terrible? I would have you tell me whether BosoLa Is that note worse that frights the silly birds grain Out of the corn,’ or that which doth allure them much. too last the to hearkened To the nets? You have Oh, misery! Like to a rusty o’ercharged cannon, pucness Shall I never fly in pieces?p—Come, to what prison? BOSOLA ‘To none. DUCHESS

4. Cinnamon

Whither, then? bark (“cassia”)

is most

aromatic

(virtuous) when pressed. 5. Children used to make tops spin by whipping them,

6. Plumb the depths of.

7. The wheel of fortune is an ancient emblem of

mutability; people have their fixed positions on it and rise or fall as it turns. 8. The object of your journey.

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JOHN

WEBSTER

BOSOLA

To your palace.

DUCHESS 105

110

I have heard

That Charon’s boat serves to convey all o'er The dismal lake,’ but brings none back again. BOSOLA Your brothers mean you safety and pity. DUCHESS Pity! With such a pity men preserve alive Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough To be eaten. BOSOLA ‘These are your children? DUCHESS Yes. BOSOLA Can they prattle? DUCHESS No. But I intend, since they were born accursed,

Curses shall be their first language. BOSOLA Fie, madam! Forget this base, low fellow— DUCHESS

Were I a man,

I'd beat that counterfeit face® into thy other.

BOSOLA

mask

One of no birth.!

DUCHESS Say that he was born mean, Man is most happy when ’s own actions Be arguments and examples of his virtue. BosOLA A barren, beggarly virtue! DUCHESS I prithee, who is greatest? Can you tell? Sad tales befit my woe: Ill tell you one. A salmon, as she swam unto the sea,

Met with a dogfish, who encounters her With this rough language: “Why art thou so bold To mix thyself with our high state of floods, Being no eminent courtier, but one

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That for the calmest and fresh time o’ th’ year Dost live in shallow rivers, rank’st thyself With silly° smelts and shrimps? And darest thou Pass by our dog-ship without reverence?” “Oh!” quoth the salmon, “sister, be at peace: Thank Jupiter we both have passed the net! Our value never can be truly known, Till in the fisher’s basket we be shown: I’ th’ market then my price may be the higher, Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire.” So to great men the moral may be stretched: Men oft are valued high, when they’re most wretched. But come, whither you please. I am armed ’gainst misery; Bent to all sways of the oppressor’s will: There’s no deep valley but near some great hill. [Exeunt. |

9. In classical mythology, Charon transports the souls of the dead across the river Styx to Hades.

1. Of low rank by birth.

simple

THE

DUCHESSTOF

IMALFI

471

Act 4

SCENE |. Amalfi. [Enter FERDINAND and BOSOLA.|

FERDINAND How doth our sister duchess bear herself In her imprisonment? BOSOLA Nobly. I'll describe her. She’s sad as one long used to ’t, and she seems Rather to welcome the end of misery Than shun it; a behavior so noble As gives a majesty to adversity:

10

You may discern the shape of loveliness More perfect in her tears than in her smiles; She will muse four hours together; and her silence, Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake. FERDINAND Her melancholy seems to be fortified With a strange disdain. BOSOLA

115)

Tis so; and this restraint,

Like English mastiffs that grow fierce with tying, Makes her too passionately apprehend Those pleasures she’s kept from. FERDINAND Curse upon her! I will no longer study in the book Of another’s heart. Inform her what I told you. [Enter DUCHESS.|

20

BosoLa All comfort to your grace! DUCHESS I will have none. Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poisoned pills In gold and sugar? BOSOLA

nN wa

Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand,

Is come to visit you, and sends you word, ’Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow Never to see you more, he comes i’ th’ night, And prays you gently neither torch nor taper Shine in your chamber. He will kiss your hand And reconcile himself, but for his vow

He dares not see you. At his pleasure. DUCHESS Take hence the lights: he’s come. [Enter FERDINAND.|

FERDINAND 30

DUCHESS

Here, sir.

This darkness suits you well. FERDINAND | would ask your pardon. pucHEss FERDINAND

35

Where are you?

You have it;

For I account it the honorabl’st revenge, Where I may kill, to pardon. Where are your cubs? Whom? pucHEsS Call them your children; FERDINAND

[Exit.|

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JOHN

WEBSTER

For though our national law distinguish bastards From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature

40

Makes them all equal. DUCHESS Do you visit me for this? You violate a sacrament o’ th’ church Shall make you howl in hell for ’t. FERDINAND It had been well Could you have lived thus always; for, indeed, You were too much i’ th’ light'—but no more— I come to seal my peace with you. Here’s a hand [Gives her a dead man’s hand.|

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55

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To which you have vowed much love; the ring upon 't You gave. DUCHESS _ | affectionately kiss it. FERDINAND Pray, do, and bury the print of it in your heart. I will leave this ring with you for a lovetoken, And the hand as sure as the ring; and do not doubt But you shall have the heart, too. When you need a friend, Send it to him that owed? it; you shall see owned Whether he can aid you. DUCHESS You are very cold; I fear you are not well after your travel. Ha! Lights! Oh, horrible! FERDINAND Let her have lights enough. __[Exit.] pucHESs What witchcraft doth he practice, that he hath left A dead man’s hand here? [Here is discovered, behind a traverse,’ the artificial figures of Antonio and his children, appearing as if they were dead.| BOSOLA Look you, here’s the piece from which ’twas ta’en. He doth present you this sad spectacle, That, now you know directly they are dead, Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve For that which cannot be recovered. puCHESS There is not between heaven and earth one wish I stay for after this: it wastes? me more Than were ’t my picture, fashioned out of wax, Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried In some foul dunghill; and yond’s an excellent property* For a tyrant, which I would account mercy.

BOSOLA

70

pucHEss And let BOSOLA pucHESss In hell: Portia,’

What's that? If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk me freeze to death. Come, you must live. That’s the greatest torture souls feel in hell, that they must live, and cannot die. I'll new-kindle thy coals again,

4.1 1. Punning on “light,” wanton.

making wax images and tormenting them as indicated below.

2. Curtain.

4. Appropriate act.

3. Consumes, as by secret disease; witches were supposed to be able to “waste” their enemies by

5. Portia, the wife of Brutus, committed suicide by swallowing hot coals.

THE

DWEHESS

2O1F

SMAI!

And revive the rare and almost dead example Of a loving wife. BOSOLA

Oh, fie! Despair? Remember

You are a Christian.

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DUCHESS The church enjoins fasting: Ill starve myself to death. BOSOLA Leave this vain sorrow. Things being at the worst begin to mend: the bee When he hath shot his sting into your hand, may then Play with your eyelid. DUCHESS Good comfortable fellow, Persuade a wretch that’s broke upon the wheel® To have all his bones new set; entreat him live

To be executed again. Who must dispatch me? I account this world a tedious theater,

For I do play a part in ’t ’gainst my will. BOSOLA Come, be of comfort; I will save your life. DUCHESS 85

Indeed,

I have not leisure to tend so small a business. BosoLa Now, by my life, I pity you. DUCHESS

Thou art a fool, then,

To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched As cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers. Puff, let me blow these vipers from me. [Enter SERVANT.| 90

What are you? SERVANT One that wishes you long life. I would thou wert hanged for the horrible curse pucHEss Thou hast given me. I shall shortly grow one Of the miracles of pity. I'll go pray— No, I'll go curse. BOSOLA

Oh, fie!

I could curse the stars—

DUCHESS 95

BOSOLA

And those three smiling seasons of the year pucuess Into a Russian winter,’ nay, the world To its first chaos. BOSOLA

100

Oh, fearful!

Look you, the stars shine still.

puCHESS Oh, but you must Remember, my curse hath a great way to go. Plagues, that make lanes through largest families, Consume them! BOSOLA Fie, lady! DUCHESS

Let them, like tyrants,

Never be remembered but for the ill they have done;

Let all the zealous prayers of mortified Churchmen forget them! 6. Instrument of torture for stretching the body. 7. A Russian winter would last all year long.

Pant

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JOHN

WEBSTER

BOSOLA

Oh, uncharitable!

pucHEss' Let Heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs To punish them! Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed: It is some mercy when men kill with speed. [Exeunt DUCHESS and SERVANT. | [Reenter FERDINAND.|

110

FERDINAND

Excellent, as I would wish; she’s plagued

in art:°

by a cunning device

These presentations are but framed in wax By the curious master in that quality, Vincentio Lauriola,® and she takes them

For true substantial bodies. BOSOLA Why do you do this? FERDINAND _ To bring her to despair. 115.

BOSOLA

‘Faith, end here,

And go no farther in your cruelty. Send her a penitential garment to put on Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her With beads and prayer books. FERDINAND

120

Damn her! That body of hers,

While that my blood ran pure in ‘t, was more worth Than that which thou wouldst comfort, called a soul.

I will send her masques of common courtesans, Have her meat® served up by bawds and ruffians, And, ’cause she’ll needs be mad, I am resolved

125

130

food (of any kind)

To remove forth the common hospital® All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging; There let them practice together, sing and dance, And act their gambols to the full o’ th’ moon: If she can sleep the better for it, let her. Your work is almost ended. BOSOLA Must I see her again? FERDINAND Yes. BOSOLA Never. FERDINAND You must. BOSOLA Never in mine own shape; That's forfeited by my intelligence®

asylum

betrayal

And this last cruel lie. When you send me next,

135

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The business shall be comfort. FERDINAND Very likely. Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee.’ Antonio Lurks about Milan: thou shalt shortly thither To feed a fire as great as my revenge, Which ne'er will slack till it have spent his fuel. Intemperate agues' make physicians cruel.

8. The art of wax modeling was common enough, but the name of the artist seems to be imaginary.

[Exeunt. |

9. L.e., pity doesn’t suit you very well. 1. Fevers that cannot be controlled.

THe

SCENE

DUCES

SHOR

MILE lh 452

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NIZA

2

[Enter DUCHESS and CARIOLA.|

DUCHESS What hideous noise was that? CARIOLA "Tis the wild consort°® Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother Hath placed about your lodging. This tyranny, I think, was never practiced till this hour. DUCHESS Indeed, | thank him. Nothing but noise and folly Can keep me in my right wits, whereas reason

band

And silence make me stark mad. Sit down;

Discourse to me some dismal tragedy. CARIOLA Oh, ’twill increase your melancholy. DUCHESS Thou art deceived: To hear of greater grief would lessen mine. This is a prison? CARIOLA Yes, but you shall live To shake

this durance®

DUCHESS

off.

imprisonment

Thou art a fool:

The robin redbreast and the nightingale Never live long in cages. CARIOLA Pray, dry your eyes. What think you of, madam?

20

DUCHESS Of nothing: When I muse thus, I sleep. CARIOLA Like a madman, with your eyes open? pucHEss Dost thou think we shall know one another in th’ other world? CARIOLA Yes, out of question. Oh that it were possible we might DUCHESS But hold some two days’ conference with the dead! From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure,

I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle; I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow: Th’ heaven o’er my head seems made of molten brass,

The earth of flaming sulphur, yet | am not mad. I am acquainted with sad misery As the tanned galley slave is with his oar; Necessity makes me suffer constantly, And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like now? Like to your picture in the gallery, cARIOLA A deal of life in show, but none in practice;

Or rather like some reverend monument Whose ruins are even pitied. Very proper.

DUCHESS 35

And Fortune seems only to have her eyesight To behold my tragedy. How now! What noise is that? [Enter SERVANT. |

Iam come to tell you SERVANT Your brother hath intended you some sport.

HZ

40

45

50

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JOHN

WEBSTER

A great physician, when the pope was sick Of a deep melancholy, presented him With several sorts of madmen, which wild object Being full of change and sport, forced him to laugh, And so the imposthume?® broke. The selfsame cure The duke intends on you. DUCHESS Let them come in. SERVANT There’s a mad lawyer; and a secular priest;! A doctor that hath forfeited his wits By jealousy; an astrologian That in his works said such a day o’ th’ month Should be the day of doom, and, failing of ’t, Ran mad; an English tailor crazed i’ th’ brain With the study of new fashions; a gentleman-usher® Quite beside himself with care to keep in mind The number of his lady’s salutations Or “How do you's” she employed him in each morning;

abscess

doorkeeper

A farmer, too, an excellent knave in grain, VI wi)

Mad ‘cause he was hindered transportation: And let one broker that’s mad loose to these, You'd think the devil were among them. DUCHESS Sit, Cariola. Let them loose when you please, For I am chained to endure all your tyranny. [Enter MADMEN.| [Here by a MADMAN this song is sung to a dismal kind of music.]

60

Oh, let us howl some heavy note, Some deadly dogged howl, Sounding as from the threatening throat Of beasts and fatal fowl! As ravens, screech owls, bulls, and bears,

65

We'll bell° and bawl our parts, Till irksome noise have cloyed your ears And corrosived your hearts. At last, whenas our choir wants breath, Our bodies being blest,

70

We'll sing, like swans, to welcome death,

ery

And die in love and rest.

~I VI

FIRST MADMAN —Doomsday not come yet? I'll draw it nearer by a perspective, or make a glass that shall set all the world on fire upon an instant. I cannot sleep; my pillow is stuffed with a litter of porcupines. SECOND MADMAN Hell is a mere glasshouse, where the devils are continually blowing up women’s souls on hollow irons, and the fire never goes out. THIRD MADMAN I will lie with every woman in my parish the tenth night; I will tithe them over like haycocks.4 4.2 I. One serving a parish, not a member of an order.

2. Forbidden to export.

3. Telescope. 4. Asa priest takes his tenth (“tithe”) of his parishioners’ crops. “Haycocks”: haystacks.

THE

80

85

90

25

100

DUCHESS

HOR

IMALER

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1173

FOURTH MADMAN | Shall my pothecary outgo me because | am a cuckold? | have found out his roguery; he makes alum of his wife’s urine, and sells it to puritans that have sore throats with overstraining.° FIRST MADMAN I have skill in heraldry. SECOND MADMAN | Hast? FIRST MADMAN You do give for your crest a woodcock’s® head with the brains picked out on ’t; you are a very ancient gentleman. THIRD MADMAN Greek is turned Turk: we are only to be saved by the Helvetian translation.’ FIRST MADMAN Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you. SECOND MADMAN Oh, rather lay a corrosive: the law will eat to the bone. THIRD MADMAN | He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damned. FOURTH MADMAN If I had my glass® here, I would show a sight should make all the women here call me mad doctor. FIRST MADMAN What’s he? A rope maker? SECOND MADMAN No, no, no, a snuffling knave that, while he shows the tombs, will have his hand in a wench’s placket. THIRD MADMAN Woe to the caroche? that brought home my wife from the masque at three o'clock in the morning! It had a large featherbed in it. FOURTH MADMAN I have pared the devil’s nails forty times, roasted them in raven’s eggs, and cured agues with them. Get me three hundred milchbats, to make possets! to proTHIRD MADMAN cure sleep. FOURTH MADMAN | All the college may throw their caps? at me: | have made a soap boiler costive;* it was my masterpiece.

(Here the dance, consisting of eight MADMEN, with music answerable

thereunto; after which Bosota, like an old man, enters.|

pucHess SERVANT

Is he mad too?

Pray, question him. I'll leave you. [Exeunt SERVANT and MADMEN.|

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BOSOLA I am come to make thy tomb. Ha! My tomb? DUCHESS deathbed, my upon lay I if Thou speak’st as Gasping for breath. Dost thou perceive me sick? Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible.* BosoLa Thou art not mad, sure. Dost know me? pucHEss BOSOLA Yes. pucHEess Who am I? BosoLa Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a salvatory of green mummy. What's this flesh? A little crudded’ milk, fantastical puff paste. Our bodies are weaker than those paper prisons boys use to keep flies in, more contemptible, since ours is to preserve earthworms. Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage? Such is the soul in the body: this world is like her

9, Carriage. “Placket”: slit in a skirt.

3. Constipated. 4. Imperceptible. 5. Curdled. “Worm-seed” is a matter whose ultimate end is the generation of worms. “A salvatory of green mummy”: the substance of mummified bodies was considered medicinal. The living body

2. Despair of emulating.

yet ready for use.

5. In long prayers and sermons. 6. A proverbially stupid bird. 7. The Geneva Bible, a jibe at English Puritans who used that translation.

8. Looking glass.

1. Sedative drafts, here made of bat’s milk.

is a box (“salvatory”) of such medicine, only not

1174

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JOHN

WEBSTER

little turf of grass, and the heaven o’er our heads, like her looking glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison. pucHEss Am not I thy duchess? BOSOLA Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot® begins to sit on thy forehead, clad in gray hairs, twenty years sooner than on a merry milkmaid’s. Thou sleep’st worse than if a mouse should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat’s ear: a little infant that breeds its teeth,’ should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow. DUCHESS I am Duchess of Malfi still. BOSOLA That makes thy sleep so broken: Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright, But, looked to near, have neither heat nor light. DUCHESS Thou art very plain. BOSOLA My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living; |am a tomb-maker. pbuCcHESS And thou com’st to make my tomb? BOSOLA Yes. DUCHESS Let me be a little merry. Of what stuff wilt thou make it? BOSOLA

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Nay, resolve® me first, of what fashion?

inform

pucHESs Why, do we grow fantastical in our deathbed? Do we affect fashion in the grave? BOSOLA Most ambitiously. Princes’ images on their tombs do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray up to heaven, but with their hands under their cheeks, as if they died of the toothache. They are not carved with their eyes fixed upon the stars, but as their minds were wholly bent upon the world, the selfsame way they seem to turn their faces. DUCHESS Let me know fully therefore the effect Of this thy dismal preparation, This talk fit for a charnel.® BOSOLA Now I shall. [Enter EXECUTIONERS, with a coffin, cords, and a bell.]

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150

Here is a present from your princely brothers; And may it arrive welcome, for it brings Last benefit, last sorrow. DUCHESS Let me see it: I have so much obedience in my blood, I wish it in their veins to do them good. BOSOLA This is your last presence chamber.’ CARIOLA O my sweet lady! DUCHESS Peace, it affrights not me. BOSOLA

[am the common bellman,

That usually° is sent to condemned persons The night before they suffer. DUCHESS Even now thou said’st Thou wast a tomb-maker. BOSOLA "Twas to bring you By degrees to mortification. Listen. [rings the bell] 6. Debauchery. 7. A teething infant. 8. A storage place for bones reserved from old

by custom

graves in the digging of new ones. 9. Anoble person’s reception room. 1, Repentance, also death and decomposition.

THE

DUCHESS

O)F

MIAEBI TAtsz

|

INVAS

Hark, now everything is still The screech owl and the whistler? shrill Call upon our dame aloud,

And bid her quickly don her shroud! Much you had of land and rent: Your length in clay’s now competent.° A long war disturbed your mind: Here your perfect peace is signed. Of what is ’t fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a hideous storm of terror. Strew your hair with powders sweet, Don clean linen, bathe your feet,

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sufficient

And (the foul fiend more to check)

A crucifix let bless your neck: Tis now full tide ‘tween night and day; End your groan, and come away. 175

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CARIOLA Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas! What will you do with my lady? Call for help. DUCHESS To whom? To our next neighbors? They are mad-folks. BOSOLA Remove that noise. DUCHESS Farewell, Cariola. In my last will I have not much to give: A many hungry guests have fed upon me; inheritance Thine will be a poor reversion.® I will die with her. CARIOLA DUCHESS I pray thee, look thou giv’st my little boy Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep. [Cartoa is forced out by the EXECUTIONERS. | Now what you please. What death? Strangling: here are your executioners. BOSOLA pucHESs I forgive them: The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o’ th’ lungs Would do as much as they do. Doth not death fright you? BosoLA Who would be afraid on ’t, DUCHESS Knowing to meet such excellent company In th’ other world? BOSOLA

195

Yet, methinks,

The manner of your death should much afflict you: This cord should terrify you. Not a whit. DUCHESS What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? Or to be smothered With cassia?° Or to be shot to death with pearls? 2. A bird premonitory of death.

cinnamon

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JOHN

WEBSTER

I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits, and ’tis found 200

They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways.—Any way, for heaven sake, So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers That I perceive death, now I am well awake,

Best gift is they can give or I can take.

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I would fain® put off my last woman’s fault, I'd not be tedious to you. EXECUTIONER We are ready. pUCHESS Dispose my breath how please you, but my body Bestow upon my women, will you? EXECUTIONER Yes. pucHEss Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength Must pull down heaven upon me— Yet stay; heaven gates are not so high arched As princes’ palaces; they that enter there

gladly

Must go upon their knees. [kneels] Come, violent death.

N

wa

Serve for mandragora*® to make me sleep! Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, They then may feed in quiet. [They strangle her.| BOSOLA Where's the waiting woman? Fetch her. Some other strangle the children. [Exeunt EXECUTIONERS, some of whom return with CARIOLA.|

Look you, there sleeps your mistress. CARIOLA Oh, you are damned Perpetually for this! My turn is next. Is t not so ordered? BOSOLA Yes, and I am glad You are so well prepared for ’t. CARIOLA

to iy va

230

You are deceived, sir,

I am not prepared for ’t, I will not die; I will first come to my answer,’ and know judicial hearing How I have offended. BOSOLA Come, dispatch her. You kept her counsel; now you shall keep ours. CARIOLA [| will not die, | must not; I am contracted To a young gentleman. EXECUTIONER Here’s your wedding ring. [showing the noose| CARIOLA Let me but speak with the duke; I'll discover® reveal Treason to his person. BOSOLA Delays! Throttle her. EXECUTIONER She bites and scratches. CARIOLA If you kill me now, I am damned; | have not been at confession

This two years. BOSOLA [tO EXECUTIONERS|

When!

CARiOLA 3. The word is used loosely for a stupefying drug.

I am quick with child.

THE

DUCHESS

Oh

MAW

Flr

|

NYETS

Why, then,

BOSOLA

[They strangle CARIOLA.| Bear her into th’ next room; | [Exeunt the ExECUTIONERS with the body of CARIOLA.|

Your credit’s saved.* Let this lie still.

[Enter FERDINAND. |

FERDINAND BOSOLA 235

Is she dead? She is what

You'd have her. But here begin your pity.

[Shows the children strangled.|

Alas, how have these offended?

The death FERDINAND pitied. be to never is wolves Of young Fix BOSOLA Your eye here. FERDINAND Constantly. Do you not weep? BOSOLA shrieks out: murder speak; Other sins only the earth, moistens water of The element But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens. Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young. FERDINAND BosoLta

| think not so; her infelicity°

unhappiness

Seemed to have years too many.

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250

She and I were twins; FERDINAND lived had I instant, this die I And should Her time to a minute.

It seems she was born first: BOSOLA You have bloodily approved? the ancient truth, That kindred commonly do worse agree Than remote strangers. Let me see her face again. FERDINAND Why didst not thou pity her? What an excellent Honest man mightst thou have been, If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary! Or, bold in a good cause, opposed thyself, With thy advancéd sword above thy head, Between her innocence and my revenge! I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits, Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done 't. For let me but examine well the cause: What was the meanness of her match to mer

260

Only I must confess I had a hope, Had she continued widow, to have gained An infinite mass of treasure by her death:

And that was the main cause, her marriage,

265

That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart. For thee, as we observe in tragedies That a good actor many times is cursed For playing a villain’s part, I hate thee for ’t, well. And, for my sake, say thou hast done much ill 4. Your reputation will now be safe.

given proofof

1178

BOSOLA to I So

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive

You are falling into ingratitude: I challenge The reward due to my service. FERDINAND I'll tell thee What I'll give thee. BOSOLA Do. FERDINAND I'll give thee a pardon For this murder. BOSOLA Ha! FERDINAND

Yes, and ’tis

The largest bounty I can study to do thee. By what authority didst thou execute This bloody sentence? BOSOLA

280

By yours.

FERDINAND Mine! Was I her judge? Did any ceremonial form of law Doom her to not-being? Did a complete® jury Deliver her conviction up i’ th’ court? Where shalt thou find this judgment registered,

qualified

Unless in hell? See, like a bloody fool,

Nm a

wi)

Thou’st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for ’t. BOSOLA The office ofjustice is perverted quite When one thief hangs another. Who shall dare To reveal this? FERDINAND Oh, I'll tell thee; The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up, Not to devour the corpse, but to discover The horrid murder. BOSOLA You, not I, shall quake for ’t. FERDINAND

290

tN Oo I

Leave me.

BOSOLA I will first receive my pension. FERDINAND You are a villain. BOSOLA When your ingratitude Is judge, I am so. FERDINAND Oh, horror! That not the fear of Him which binds the devils Can prescribe man obedience! Never look upon me more. BOSOLA Why, fare thee well. Your brother and your self are worthy men: You have a pair of hearts are rotten graves, Rotten, and rotting others; and your vengeance, Like two chained bullets, still? goes arm in arm. You may be brothers, for treason, like the plague,

Doth take much in a blood. I stand like one That long hath ta’en a sweet and golden dream. [ am angry with myself, now that I wake.

300

vt

. Treason and plague run in certain families.

continually

THE

305

DUIGHESS

TOREMAL

Fill 422

|

We)

FERDINAND Get thee into some unknown part o’ th’ world, That I may never see thee. BOSOLA Let me know Wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir, I served your tyranny, and rather strove To satisfy yourself than all the world, And though I loathed the evil, yet I loved You that did counsel it; and rather sought

310

To appear a true servant than an honest man. I'll go hunt the badger by owl-light: FERDINAND "Tis a deed of darkness.

[Exit.]

He’s much distracted. Off, my painted honor! BOSOLA While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire. What would I do, were this to do again? I would not change my peace of conscience For all the wealth of Europe.—She stirs; here’s life. 320

Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine Out of this sensible° hell.—She’s warm, she breathes.

Upon thy pale To store them Some cordial° So pity would

lips I will melt my heart, with fresh color—Who’s there! drink!—Alas! I dare not call: destroy pity.—Her eye opes,

living

restorative

And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut,

To take me up to mercy. DUCHESS Antonio! BOSOLA

Yes, madam, he is living;

The dead bodies you saw were but feigned statues: He’s reconciled to your brothers: the pope hath wrought The atonement.?

335

DUCHESS Mercy! [She dies.| BOSOLA Oh, she’s gone again! There the cords of life broke. Oh, sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps On turtles” feathers, whilst a guilty conscience Is a black register wherein is writ All our good deeds and bad, a perspective® That shows us hell! That we cannot be suffered® To do good when we have a mind to it! This is manly sorrow: These tears, | am very certain, never grew

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In my mother’s milk. My estate is sunk Below the degree of fear. Where were These penitent fountains while she was living? Oh, they were frozen up! Here is a sight As direful to my soul as is the sword Unto a wretch hath slain his father. Come, I'll bear thee hence,

6. Turtledoves, emblems of a loving couple.

reconciliation

telescope

allowed

1180

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

And execute thy last will; that’s deliver Thy body to the reverend dispose® Of some good women: that the cruel tyrant Shall not deny me. Then I'll post to Milan, Where somewhat I will speedily enact Worth my dejection. [Exit with the body.|

disposition

Act 5

SCENE 1. A public place in Milan. [Enter ANTONIO and DELIO.|

ANTONIO. What think you of my hope of reconcilement To the Aragonian brethren? DELIO

vi

10

I misdoubt it;

For though they have sent their letters of safe conduct For your repair® to Milan, they appear But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara, Under whom you hold certain land in cheat,! Much ’gainst his noble nature hath been moved To seize those lands, and some of his dependents Are at this instant making it their suit To be invested in your revenues.” I cannot think they mean well to your life That do deprive you of your means of life, Your living. ANTONIO You are still an heretic® To any safety I can shape myself. DELIO. Here comes the marquis. I will make myself Petitioner for some part of your land, To know whither it is flying. ANTONIO

I pray do.

resort

skeptic

(Withdraws. |

[Enter PESCARA.|

DELIO Sir, I have a suit to you. PESCARA To me? 20

DELIO_ An easy one. There is the citadel of Saint Bennet, With some demesnes,’ of late in the possession Of Antonio Bologna; please you bestow them on me. PESCARA You are my friend, but this is such a suit,

Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take. DELIO nN wa

No, sir?

PESCARA I will give you ample reason for ’t Soon in private.—Here’s the cardinal’s mistress. [Enter JULIA.|

Jutta My lord, | am grown your poor petitioner, And should be an ill beggar, had I not 5.1

a

1. Escheat, i.e., subject to forfeiture under certain conditions.

2. L.e., to be given your rents.

3. Associated estates. “Saint Bennet”: St. Bene-

dict.

Ph ES Dw Ch ESS

30

Ole

IMA LET

Ss)

|

1181

A great man’s letter here, the cardinal’s, To court you in my favor. [Gives a letter.| PESCARA He entreats for you The citadel of Saint Bennet, that belonged To the banished Bologna. JULIA

Yes.

PESCARA I could not Have thought of a friend I could rather pleasure with it; "Tis yours. JULIA Sir, | thank you; and he shall know How doubly I am engaged both in your gift, And speediness of giving, which makes your grant The greater.

40

45

50

[Exit.]

ANTONIO [aside] How they fortify themselves With my ruin! DELIO Sir, | am little bound to you. PESCARA Why? DELIO Because you denied this suit to me, and gave ’t To such a creature. PESCARA Do you know what it was? It was Antonio’s land, not forfeited By course of law, but ravished from his throat By the cardinal’s entreaty. It were not fit I should bestow so main® a piece of wrong Upon my friend; 'tis a gratification Only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice. Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocents To make those followers I call my friends Look ruddier* upon me? I am glad This land, ta’en from the owner by such wrong,

egregious

Returns again unto so foul an use

wi wi

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65

As salary for his lust. Learn, good Delio, To ask noble things of me, and you shall find I'll be a noble giver. DELIO You instruct me well. ANTONIO [aside] Why, here’s a man now would fright impudence From sauciest beggars. PESCARA Prince Ferdinand’s come to Milan, Sick, as they give out, of an apoplexy,° But some say ’tis a frenzy.° | am going To visit him. [Exit.| ANTONIO "Tis a noble old fellow. DELIO What course do you mean to take, Antonio? ANTONIO. This night I mean to venture all my fortune, Which is no more than a poor lingering life, To the cardinal’s worst of malice. I have got Private access to his chamber, and intend

To visit him about the mid of night, 4. More agreeably, literally with a healthier (ruddy) complexion.

stroke insanity

1182

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

As once his brother did our noble duchess. It may be that the sudden apprehension Of danger—for Ill go in mine own shape— When he shall see it fraught with love and duty, 70

“I wn

May draw the poison out of him, and work A friendly reconcilement. If it fail, Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling, For better fall once than be ever falling. DELIO. I'll second you in all danger, and, howe’er, My life keeps rank with yours. ANTONIO

You are still my loved and best friend.

[Exeunt. |

SCENE 2. The scene continues. [Enter PESCARA and DOCTOR. |

Ww

PESCARA Now, doctor, may | visit your patient? poctor If ’t please your lordship: but he’s instantly° To take the air here in the gallery By my direction. PESCARA Pray thee, what’s his disease? poctor A very pestilent disease, my lord, They call lycanthropia.

very shortly

PESCARA What’s that? I need a dictionary to ’t.

10

DOCTOR I'll tell you. In those that are possessed with ’t there o’erflows Such melancholy humor, they imagine Themselves to be transforméd into wolves; Steal forth to churchyards in the dead of night, And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since One met the duke *bout midnight in a lane Behind Saint Mark’s Church, with the leg of a man Upon his shoulder; and he howled fearfully; Said he was a wolf, only the difference Was, a wolf’s skin was hairy on the outside, His on the inside; bade them take their swords,

is) vi

Rip up his flesh, and try. Straight® I was sent for, And, having ministered to him, found his grace Very well recovered. PESCARA I'm glad on ’t. DocTOR Yet not without some fear Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again, I'll go a nearer way to work with him Than ever Paracelsus! dreamed of: if They'll give me leave, I'll buffet his madness

immediately

Out of him. Stand aside; he comes. [Enter FERDINAND, MALATESTE, CARDINAL, and BOSOLA apart. |

FERDINAND

Leave me.

52

|. The great Swiss alchemist, famous for his cures by sympathetic magic.

THE

30

35

40

45

wilwi

60

70

OF

MALFI

5.2

|

1183

MALATESTE Why doth your lordship love this solitariness? FERDINAND Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, what’s that follows me? MALATESTE Nothing, my lord. FERDINAND _ Yes. MALATESTE "Tis your shadow. FERDINAND Stay it; let it not haunt me. MALATESTE Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. FERDINAND I will throttle it. [Throws himself on the ground.| MALATESTE O, my lord, you are angry with nothing. FERDINAND You are a fool: how is ’t possible I should catch my shadow, unless I fall upon ’t? When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe; for, look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons. PESCARA Rise, good my lord. FERDINAND | am studying the art of patience. PESCARA ‘Tis a noble virtue. FERDINAND _ To drive six snails before me from this town to Moscow; neither use goad nor whip to them, but let them take their own time—the patient’st man i’ th’ world match me for an experiment—and I'll crawl after like a sheep-biter.? CARDINAL Force him up. [They raise him.| FERDINAND

50

DUCHESS

Use me well, you were best. What I have done, I have done:

I'll confess nothing. poctor Now let me come to him. Are you mad, my lord? Are you out of your princely wits? FERDINAND What’s he? PESCARA Your doctor. FERDINAND Let me have his beard sawed off, and his eyebrows filed more civil. poctor | must do mad tricks with him, for that’s the only way on ’t.? I have brought your grace a salamander’s skin to keep you from sunburning. FERDINAND I have cruel sore eyes. poctor The white of a cockatrix’s* egg is present remedy. FERDINAND Let it be a new-laid one, you were best. Hide me from him: physicians are like kings—they brook no contradiction. poctor Now he begins to fear me: now let me alone with him. CARDINAL How now? Put off your gown? poctor Let me have some forty urinals filled with rosewater: he and I'll go pelt one another with them. Now he begins to fear me. Can you fetch a frisk, sir?? Let him go, let him go, upon my peril: I find by his eye he stands in awe of me; I'll make him as tame as a dormouse. FERDINAND Can you fetch your frisks, sir? I will stamp him into a cullis,° flay off his skin, to cover one of the anatomies’ this rogue hath set i’ th’ cold yonder in Barber-Surgeons’ Hall. Hence, hence! You are all of you

2. A sheepdog. 3. Le., to cure 4. A fabulous, supposed to be 5. Cut a caper,

him. and deadly poisonous, serpent, hatched of a cock’s egg. dance a jig.

6. Broth. ; 7. Anatomical skeletons hung up in the surgeon's college, which Ferdinand proposes to cover with the doctor’s flayed skin.

1184

JOHN

WEBSTER

like beasts for sacrifice: there’s nothing left of you but tongue and belly, flattery and lechery. [Exit.] PESCARA Doctor, he did not fear you thoroughly. DOCTOR True; I was somewhat too forward. BOSOLA [aside]

80

90

Mercy upon me,

What a fatal judgment hath fall’n upon this Ferdinand! PESCARA Knows your grace what accident hath brought Unto the prince this strange distraction? CARDINAL [aside] I must feign somewhat.—Thus they say it grew: You have heard it rumored, for these many years None of our family dies but there is seen The shape of an old woman, which is given By tradition to us to have been murdered By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure One night, as the prince sat up late at ’s book, Appeared to him; when, crying out for help, The gentlemen of ’s chamber found his grace All on a cold sweat, altered much in face And language; since which apparition, He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear He cannot live. BOSOLA Sir, | would speak with you. PESCARA We'll leave your grace, Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord, All health of mind and body. CARDINAL You are most welcome. [Exeunt PESCARA, MALATESTE, and DOcTOR.| Are you come? So. [aside] This fellow must not know

By any means [| had intelligence®

was accessory

In our duchess’ death; for, though I counseled it,

The full of all th’ engagement seemed to grow From Ferdinand.—Now, 100

105

110

sir, how fares our sister?

I do not think but sorrow makes her look Like to an oft-dyed garment: she shall now Taste comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly? Oh, the fortune of your master here the prince Dejects you, but be you of happy comfort: If you'll do one thing for me I'll entreat, Though he had a cold tombstone o’er his bones, Pll make you what you would be. BOSOLA Anything; Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to ’t: They that think long, small expedition win, For musing much o’ th’ end cannot begin. [Enter JULIA.]

Jutta

Sir, will you come in to supper?

CARDINAL

Leave me. JuLta [aside]

I am busy;

What an excellent shape hath that fellow!

[Exit. |

THE

TDUICHES'S

FO]F

Minin

5:2

|

1185

CARDINAL "Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan: Inquire him out, and kill him. While he lives, 115

Our sister cannot marry, and I have thought

Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me Thy advancement.® BOSOLA But by what means shall I find him out? CARDINAL There is a gentleman called Delio Here in the camp, that hath been long approved His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow; Follow him to Mass; maybe Antonio, Although he do account religion But a school-name,° for fashion of the world

an idle phrase

May accompany him; or else go inquire out tS vi

130

Delio’s confessor, and see if you can bribe Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways A man might find to trace him; as to know What fellows haunt the Jews for taking up Great sums of money, for sure he’s in want; Or else to go to th’ picture-makers, and learn Who bought her picture lately. Some of these Haply may take. BOSOLA Well, Pll not freeze i’ th’ business:°

delay

I would see that wretched thing, Antonio,

Above all sights i’ th’ world. CARDINAL Do, and be happy. BosOoLA

[Exit.]

This fellow doth breed basilisks in ’s eyes,

He’s nothing else but murder; yet he seems Not to have notice of the duchess’ death. "Tis his cunning: I must follow his example; There cannot be a surer way to trace Than that of an old fox. 140

145

JULIA BOSOLA JULIA

[Reenter JULIA, with a pistol.| So, sir, you are well met. How now?

Nay, the doors are fast enough.

Now, sir, | will make you confess your treachery. BOSOLA Treachery? JULIA Yes, confess to me Which of my women ’twas, you hired to put Love-powder into my drink? BOSOLA Love powder? yuttia

Yes, when I| was at Malfi.

Why should I fall in love with such a face else?° I have already suffered for thee so much pain, The only remedy to do me good Is to kill my longing. 150

BOSOLA

Sure, your pistol holds

Nothing but perfumes or kissing-comfits.’ 8. Call me your means of promotion. 9. Candies to sweeten the breath.

otherwise

1186

155

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

Excellent lady! You have a pretty way on ’t To discover® your longing. Come, come, I'll disarm you, And arm you thus:! yet this is wondrous strange. JULIA Compare thy form and my eyes together, you'll find My love no such great miracle. Now you'll say I am wanton: this nice® modesty in ladies Is but a troublesome familiar? that haunts them. BOSOLA Know you me, I am a blunt soldier. JULIA

160

fastidious

The better:

Sure, there wants® fire where there are no lively sparks Of roughness. BOSOLA And I want compliment.’ JULIA

165

reveal

lacks

Why, ignorance

In courtship cannot make you do amiss, If you have a heart to do well. BOSOLA You are very fair. juLiA_ Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, I must plead unguilty. BOSOLA Your bright eyes Carry a quiver of darts in them, sharper Than sunbeams. JULIA

You will mar me with commendation,

Put yourself to the charge of courting me, Whereas now I woo you. 170

BOSOLA |aside|

| have it, | will work upon this creature.—

Let us grow most amorously familiar. If the great cardinal now should see me thus, Would he not count me a villain? juLiA

No, he might count me a wanton,

Not lay a scruple of offense on you; For if Isee and steal a diamond,

180

The fault is not i’ th’ stone, but in me the thief That purloins it. | am sudden with you. We that are great women of pleasure, use to cut off These uncertain wishes and unquiet longings, And in an instant join the sweet delight And the pretty excuse together. Had you been i’ th’ street, Under my chamber window, even there I should have courted you. BOSOLA Oh, you are an excellent lady! jutta Bid me do somewhat for you presently? To express I love you. BOSOLA

I will, and if you love me,

Fail not to effect it. The cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy;

1. Disarm

(by taking away

embracing her).

her pistol); arm (by

2. Attendant spirit or demon.

3. I don’t have the gift of flattery.

right away

HAE

190

195

DUCHESS

TOR

yA

PINS.2

|

1187

Demand the cause, let him not put you off With feigned excuse; discover the main ground on 't. juLiA Why would you know this? BOSOLA | have depended on him, And I hear he is fallen in some disgrace With the emperor: if he be, like the mice That forsake falling houses, I would shift To other dependence. JULIA

You shall not need follow the wars:

I'll be your maintenance. BOSOLA And I your loyal servant; But I cannot leave my calling. Not leave

JULIA 200

An ungrateful general for the love of a sweet lady? You are like some cannot sleep in featherbeds, But must have blocks for their pillows. BOSOLA Will you do this? JULIA Cunningly. BOSOLA Tomorrow I'll expect th’ intelligence. JULIA

~

Tomorrow? Get you into my cabinet,°

inner chamber

You shall have it with you. Do not delay me, No more than I do you. I am like one That is condemned: I have my pardon promised, But I would see it sealed. Go, get you in; You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart Like a skein of silk. [Reenter CARDINAL.| CARDINAL Where are you? [Enter SERVANTS. | SERVANTS Here.

CARDINAL

[Exit BOSOLA.|

Let none, upon your lives,

Have conference with the Prince Ferdinand, Unless I know it. [aside] In this distraction He may reveal the murder. [Exeunt SERVANTS.|

Yond’s my lingering consumption: I am weary of her, and by any means Would be quit of. JULIA

How now, my lord?

What ails you? CARDINAL Nothing. JULIA Oh, you are much altered: Come, | must be your secretary,° and remove

This lead from off your bosom.* What’s the matter? CARDINAL | may not tell you. juLIA Are you so far in love with sorrow You cannot part with part of it? Or think you I cannot love your grace when you are sad 4, Secretaries opened letters addressed to their masters by removing the heavy lead seals.

confidante

1188

225

230

235

240

250

JOHN

WEBSTER

As well as merry? Or do you suspect I, that have been a secret to your heart These many winters, cannot be the same Unto your tongue? CARDINAL Satisfy thy longing— The only way to make thee keep my counsel Is not to tell thee. JULIA

Tell your echo this,

Or flatterers, that like echoes still report What they hear though most imperfect, and not me; For if that you be true unto yourself, I'll know. CARDINAL Will you rack° me? JULIA No, judgment shall Draw it from you: it is an equal fault, To tell one’s secrets unto all or none. CARDINAL The first argues folly. JULIA But the last, tyranny. CARDINAL Very well. Why, imagine I have committed Some secret deed which I desire the world May never hear of. JULIA Therefore may not I know it? You have concealed for me as great a sin As adultery. Sir, never was occasion For perfect trial of my constancy Till now: sir, I beseech you— CARDINAL You'll repent it. JULIA

245

|

Never.

CARDINAL _ It hurries thee to ruin: I'll not tell thee. Be well advised, and think what danger ’tis To receive a prince’s secrets: they that do, Had need have their breasts hooped with adamant? To contain them. I pray thee, yet be satisfied; Examine thine own frailty; ’tis more easy To tie knots than unloose them: ’tis a secret That, like a lingering poison, may chance lie Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence. jutia Now you dally with me. CARDINAL

nN wi wn

torture

the hardest metal

No more; thou shalt know it.

By my appointment the great Duchess of Malfi And two of her young children, four nights since, Were strangled. JULIA

O Heaven! Sir, what have you done?

CARDINAL How now? How settles this? Think you your bosom Will be a grave dark and obscure enough For such a secret? 260

JULIA

CARDINAL JULIA CARDINAL

You have undone yourself, sir.

Why? It lies not in me to conceal it. No?

THE

265

DVUGHESS

OR

mM AL

rrSia2

Come, I will swear you to 't upon this book. JULIA Most religiously. CARDINAL Kiss it. [She kisses the book.| Now you shall Never utter it; thy curiosity Hath undone thee: thou’rt poisoned with that book. Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel, I have bound thee to ’t by death. [Reenter BOSOLA.|

BOSOLA For pity sake, Hold! CARDINAL Ha! Bosola? JULIA I forgive you This equal piece ofjustice you have done; For I betrayed your counsel to that fellow: He overheard it; that was the cause I said

It lay not in me to conceal it. BOSOLA

O foolish woman,

Couldst not thou have poisoned him? JULIA

"Tis weakness,

Too much to think what should have been done. I go I know not whither.

[Dies. |

CARDINAL Wherefore com’st thou hither? BOSOLA That I might find a great man like yourself, Not out of his wits as the Lord Ferdinand,

280

To remember my service. CARDINAL I’ll have thee hewed in pieces. BOSOLA Make not yourself such a promise of that life Which is not yours to dispose of. CARDINAL Who placed thee here? BOSOLA

Her lust, as she intended.

CARDINAL Very well. Now you know me for your fellow murderer. BosOLA And wherefore should you lay fair marble colors Upon your rotten purposes to me?? 285

Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons, And when they have done, go hide themselves i’ th’ graves Of those were actors in ’t? CARDINAL

290

No more; there is

A fortune attends thee. BOSOLA Shall I go sue to Fortune any longer? "Tis the fool’s pilgrimage. CARDINAL I have honors in store for thee. BOSOLA There are a many ways that conduct to seeming Honor, and some of them very dirty ones. CARDINAL Throw to the devil Thy melancholy; the fire burns well,

What need we keep a stirring of ’t, and make 5. Plaster was often painted to look like marble.

|

1189

1190

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

A greater smother? Thou wilt kill Antonio? BOSOLA Yes.

300

305

310

CARDINAL Take up that body. BOSOLA [ think I shall Shortly grow the common bier for churchyards! CARDINAL I will allow thee some dozen of attendants To aid thee in the murder. BOSOLA Oh, by no means. Physicians that apply horse leeches to any rank swelling use to cut off their tails, that the blood may run through them the faster. Let me have no train® when I go to shed blood, lest it make me have a greater when I ride to the gallows.’ CARDINAL Come to me after midnight, to help to remove that body to her own lodging. I'll give out she died of the plague; ‘twill breed the less inquiry after her death. BOSOLA Where’s Castruccio her husband? CARDINAL He’s rode to Naples to take possession of Antonio’s citadel. BOSOLA Believe me, you have done a very happy turn. CARDINAL Fail not to come. There is the master key of our lodgings, and by that you may conceive what trust I plant in you. BOSOLA You shall find me ready. [Exit CARDINAL. | Oh poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful To thy estate as pity, yet I find Nothing so dangerous. I must look to my footing; In such slippery ice-pavements men had need To be frost-nailed well;° they may break their necks else; The precedent’s here afore me. How this man Bears up in blood! Seems fearless! Why, ’tis well:

320

Security some men call the suburbs of hell, Only a dead® wall between. Well, good Antonio,

330

ll seek thee out, and all my care shall be To put thee into safety from the reach Of these most cruel biters that have got Some of thy blood already. It may be, I'll join with thee in a most just revenge: The weakest arm is strong enough that strikes With the sword ofjustice. Still methinks the duchess Haunts me. There, there, ‘tis nothing but my melancholy. O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup, That throws men down only to raise them up! [Exit.|

SCENE 3. A fortification at Milan. DELIO

[Enter ANTONIO and DELIO. Echo from the DUCHESS’ grave.| Yond’s the cardinal’s window. This fortification

Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey; And to yond side o’ th’ river lies a wall, Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion

6. Followers. 7. Criminals, carted through the streets to be

hanged at Tyburn, were followed by crowds. 8. To wear hobnailed boots.

bare

THE

DUCHESS

OF

MALFI

5.3

|

NOT

Gives the best echo that you ever heard, So hollow and so dismal, and withal°

20

in addition

So plain in the distinction of our words, That many have supposed it is a spirit That answers. ANTONIO I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history: And, questionless, here in this open court, Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather, some men lie interred Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to 't, They thought it should have canopied their bones Till doomsday; but all things have their end: Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, Must have like death that we have. ECHO “Like death that we have.” Now the echo hath caught you. DELIO ANTONIO It groaned, methought, and gave A very deadly accent. ECHO “Deadly accent.” DELIO I told you ’twas a pretty one: you may make it A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician,

35

Or a thing of sorrow. ECHO “A thing of sorrow.” ANTONIO Aye, sure, that suits it best. ECHO “That suits it best.” ANTONIO "Tis very like my wife’s voice. ECHO “Aye, wife’s voice.” DELIO Come, let’s walk further from 't. | would not have you Go to th’ cardinal’s tonight: do not. ECHO “Do not.” DELIO Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow Than time: take time for ’t; be mindful of thy safety. ECHO “Be mindful of thy safety.” ANTONIO Necessity compels me: Make’® scrutiny throughout the passes Of your own life, you'll find it impossible To fly your fate. ECHO “Oh, fly your fate.” DELIO. Hark! The dead stones seem to have pity on you, And give you good counsel. ANTONIO.

if you make

Echo, I will not talk with thee,

For thou art a dead thing. ECHO “Thou art a ANTONIO My duchess is asleep now, And her little ones, I hope sweetly: O Shall I never see her more? ECHO “Never see ANTONIO I marked? not one repetition

dead thing.” heaven, her more.” of the echo

attended to

TAO?

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

But that, and on the sudden a clear light Presented me a face folded in sorrow. DELIO Your fancy merely. 45

55

ANTONIO Come, I'll be out of this ague,° For to live thus is not indeed to live;

It is a mockery and abuse of life. I will not henceforth save myself by halves; Lose all, or nothing. DELIO Your own virtue save you! I'll fetch your eldest son, and second you® It may be that the sight of his own blood Spread in so sweet a figure° may beget The more compassion. ANTONIO However, fare you well. Though in our miseries Fortune have a part, Yet in our noble sufferings she hath none: Contempt of pain, that we may call our own.

fever

back you up face

[Exeunt.]

SCENE 4. A room in the CARDINALS palace. [Enter CARDINAL, PESCARA, MALATESTE, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN.| CARDINAL You shall not watch tonight by the sick prince; His grace is very well recovered. MALATESTE Good my lord, suffer® us. allow CARDINAL Oh, by no means; The noise and change of object in his eye Doth more distract him. I pray, all to bed; And though you hear him in his violent fit, Do not rise, I entreat you. PESCARA

10

So, sir; we shall not.

CARDINAL Nay, I must have you promise upon your honors, For I was enjoined to ’t by himself; and he seemed To urge it sensibly.° with strong feeling PESCARA Let our honors bind This trifle. CARDINAL Nor any of your followers. MALATESTE Neither. CARDINAL It may be, to make trial of your promise, When he’s asleep, myself will rise and feign Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help, And feign myself in danger. MALATESTE If your throat were cutting, I'd not come at you, now I have protested against it. CARDINAL Why, I thank you. [Withdraws.| GRISOLAN "Twas a foul storm tonight. RODERIGO ‘The Lord Ferdinand’s chamber shook like an osier.°

MALATESTE "Twas nothing but pure kindness in the devil, To rock his own child. [Exeunt all except the CARDINAL.| CARDINAL The reason why I would not suffer°® these

a willow wand

allow

THE

25

DUCHESS

OF

MALFI

5.4

|

THES

About my brother is because at midnight I may with better privacy convey Julia’s body to her own lodging. Oh, my conscience! I would pray now, but the devil takes away my heart For having any confidence in prayer.

About this hour I appointed Bosola To fetch the body: when he hath served my turn, He dies.

[Exit.|

[Enter BOSOLA.| BOSOLA Ha! "Twas the cardinal’s voice; I heard him name

Bosola and my death. Listen! I hear One’s footing. [Enter FERDINAND. |

FERDINAND Strangling is a very quiet BOSOLA [aside] Nay, then, I see I must FERDINAND What say to that? Whisper be done i’ th’ dark: the cardinal would tor should see it.

BOSOLA 40

death. stand upon my guard. softly; do you agree to ’t? So; it must not for a thousand pounds the doc[Exit.]

My death is plotted; here’s the consequence of murder.

We value not desert nor Christian breath,

When we know black deeds must be cured with death. [Enter ANTONIO and SERVANT.|

SERVANT

Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray:

ll fetch you a dark lantern.

45

[Exit.}

Could I take him at his prayers, ANTONIO There were hope of pardon. BOSOLA Fall right, my sword! [Stabs him.] I'll not give thee so much leisure as to pray. Oh, I am gone! Thou hast ended a long suit! ANTONIO In a minute. What art thou? BOSOLA ANTONIO A most wretched thing, That only have thy benefit in death, To appear myself. [Reenter SERVANT with a lantern.|

50

SERVANT ANTONIO.

Where are you, sir? Very near my home. Bosola?

SERVANT

55

Oh, misfortune!

BOSOLA Smother thy pity; thou art dead else.? Antonio? The man I would have saved ’bove mine own life! We are merely the stars’ tennis balls, struck and bandied Which way please them.* O good Antonio, Pll whisper one thing in thy dying ear Shall make thy heart break quickly! Thy fair duchess And two sweet children— ANTONIO Their very names Kindle a little life in me.

otherwise

5.4 1. Antonio thinks it is the cardinal, to whom he

him. 2. The power of the stars over people’s lives was

came to address a plea (“suit”), who has stabbed

a Renaissance commonplace.

1194

60

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

BOSOLA Are murdered. ANTONIO Some men have wished to die At the hearing of sad tidings; I am glad That I shall do ’t in sadness: I would not now Wish my wounds balmed nor healed, for I have no use To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness, Like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, We follow after bubbles blown in th’ air. Pleasure of life, what is’t? Only the good hours Of an ague; merely a preparative to rest,

To endure vexation. I do not ask The process°® of my death; only commend me To Delio. BOSOLA

~I wit

reason, circumstances

_ Break, heart!

ANTONIO. And let my son fly the courts of princes. [Dies. | BOSOLA ‘Thou seem’st to have loved Antonio? SERVANT I brought him hither To have reconciled him to the cardinal. BOsOLA | do not ask thee that. Take him up, if thou tender thine own life,

80

And bear him where the lady Julia Was wont to lodge. Oh, my fate moves swift; I have this cardinal in the forge already; Now I'll bring him to th’ hammer. Oh direful misprision!°

misunderstanding

I will not imitate things glorious, No more than base; I'll be mine own example. On, on, and look thou represent,° for silence,

The thing thou bear’st.?

imitate

[Exeunt.|

SCENE 5. The scene continues. [Enter CARDINAL, with a book.|

wi

CARDINAL [am puzzled in a question about hell: He says, in hell there’s one material fire, And yet it shall not burn all men alike. Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience! When I look into the fish ponds in my garden, Methinks I see a thing armed with a rake, That seems to strike at me. [Enter BOSOLA, and SERVANT bearing ANTONIO’s body.| Now, art thou come?

10

Thou look’st ghastly: There sits in thy face some great determination Mixed with some fear. BOSOLA Thus it lightens° into action: Iam come to kill thee. Ha! Help! Our guard! CARDINAL BosOLA ‘Thou art deceived; they are out of thy howling. 3. The corpse.

ignites

IME

DUCHESS!

OlF

IMAL

RIlpSia5

|

1195

CARDINAL Hold; and I will faithfully divide Revenues with thee. BOSOLA Thy prayers and proffers Are both unseasonable. CARDINAL Raise the watch! We are betrayed! BOSOLA

I have confined your flight:°

cut off your escape

I'll suffer your retreat to Julia’s chamber, But no further. CARDINAL Help! We are betrayed! [Enter, above, PESCARA, MALATESTE, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN. |

Listen. MALATESTE My dukedom for rescue! CARDINAL Fie upon his counterfeiting! RODERIGO Why, 'tis not the cardinal. MALATESTE 20

25

Yes, yes, ‘tis he,

RODERIGO

But I'll see him hanged ere I’ll go down to him. CARDINAL Here’s a plot upon me. I am assaulted! I am lost, Unless some rescue. GRISOLAN He doth this pretty well, But it will not serve to laugh me out of my honor. CARDINAL The sword’s at my throat! RODERIGO You would not bawl so loud then. MALATESTE Come, come, let’s go to bed. He told us thus much aforehand. PESCARA

He wished you should not come at him; but, believe ’t,

The accent of the voice sounds not in jest: I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines.° 30

Force ope the doors. RODERIGO Let’s follow him aloof,’

battering rams [Exit above.|

at a distance

And note how the cardinal will laugh at him. [Exeunt, above, MALATESTE, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN.|

BOSOLA

There’s for you first,

[He kills the SERVANT.|

‘Cause you shall not unbarricade the door To let in rescue. CARDINAL What cause hast thou to pursue my life? BOSOLA Look there. CARDINAL Antonio? BOSOLA Slain by my hand unwittingly. Pray, and be sudden: when thou killed’st thy sister, Thou took’st from Justice her most equal balance,

40

And left her naught but her sword. CARDINAL Oh, mercy! BosoLA Now it seems thy greatness was only outward; For thou fall’st faster of thyself than calamity Can drive thee. I’ll not waste longer time: there!

CARDINAL BOSOLA CARDINAL 5.5 1. A baby hare.

[Stabs him.]

Thou hast hurt me. Again!

[Stabs him again.| Shall I die like a leveret,'

1196

45

|

JOHN

WEBSTER

Without any resistance? Help, help, help! I am slain! [Enter FERDINAND.| FERDINAND Th’ alarum? Give me a fresh horse;

50

Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost. Yield, yield! I give you the honor of arms, Shake my sword over you; will you yield? CARDINAL Help me; I am your brother! FERDINAND The devil! My brother fight upon the adverse party? [He wounds the CARDINAL and, in the scuffle, gives BOSOLA his death wound. |

vw vi

60

There flies your ransom. CARDINAL O justice! I suffer now for what hath former® been: earlier Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin. FERDINAND Now youre brave fellows. Caesar’s fortune was harder than Pompey’s; Caesar died in the arms of prosperity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace. You both died in the field. The pain’s nothing: pain many times is taken away with the apprehension of greater, as the toothache with the sight of a barber that comes to pull it out: there’s philosophy for you. BOSOLA Now my revenge is perfect. Sink, thou main cause [He kills FERDINAND.|

Of my undoing! The last part of my life Hath done me best service. FERDINAND Give me some wet hay; I am broken-winded.? I do account this world but a dog kennel: I will vault credit and affect high pleasures* beyond death. BOSOLA

He seems to come to himself, now he’s so near the bottom.

FERDINAND My sister, O my sister! There’s the cause on ’t. Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, Like diamonds we are cut with our own dust. [Dies.| 70

CARDINAL Thou hast thy payment, too. BOSOLA Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth. "Tis ready to part from me. I do glory That thou, which stood’st like a huge pyramid Begun upon a large and ample base, Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing. [Enter, below, PESCARA, MALATESTE, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN. |

80

PESCARA How now, my lord? MALATESTE O sad disaster! RODERIGO How comes this? BOSOLA Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murdered By th’ Aragonian brethren; for Antonio Slain by this hand; for lustful Julia Poisoned by this man; and lastly for myself,

2. Ferdinand thinks he’s on the field of battle and offering the “honor of arms” (liberal surrender terms) to his foes. “Vaunt-guard”; vanguard.

3. Worn-out horses are said to be broken-winded. 4. Go beyond expectation and enjoy great pleasures.

DEES

DUGHESS

TOF

SMALE

INS.5

|

OG

That was an actor in the main of all,

85

Much ’gainst mine own good nature, yet i’ th’ end Neglected. PESCARA How now, my lord? CARDINAL Look to my brother: He gave us these large wounds as we were struggling Here i’ the rushes.* And now, I pray, Let me be laid by and never thought of. [Dies.] PESCARA

How fatally, it seems, he did withstand

His own rescue! MALATESTE Thou wretched thing of blood, How came Antonio by his death? 90

100

BOSOLA

Ina

mist: I know not how;

Such a mistake as I have often seen In a play. Oh, I am gone! We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves, That, ruined, yield no echo. Fare you well. It may be pain, but no harm to me to die In so good a quarrel. Oh, this gloomy world, In what a shadow or deep pit of darkness Doth womanish and fearful mankind live! Let worthy minds ne’er stagger in distrust To suffer death or shame for what is just: Mine is another voyage.

[Dies.]

PESCARA The noble Delio, as I came to the palace, Told me of Antonio’s being here, and showed me A pretty gentleman, his son and heir. [Enter DELIO with ANTONIO’s SON.|

MALATESTE 105

O, sir, you come too late.

DELIO

I heard so, and

Was armed? for it ere | came. Let us make noble use Of this great ruin, and join all our force To establish this young hopeful°® gentleman In ’s mother’s right. These wretched eminent things 110

115

prepared

promising

Leave no more fame behind ’em, than should one Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow; As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts

Both form and matter. I have ever thought Nature doth nothing so great for great men As when she’s pleased to make them lords of truth: Integrity of life is fame’s best friend, Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end. [Exeunt.]

performed 1613

5. Leafy plants, strewn over Elizabethan floors in lieu of carpets.

published 1623

| Gender Relations: Conflict and Counsel

|

/. /hat are women good for? By the English Renaissance, men had been debat‘ ing this question for centuries. Seventeenth-century writing on the question of women’s proper social place was an important topic in two quite different prose genres. On the one hand, rhetorically flashy polemics argued, often in a spirit of witty rhetorical gamesmanship, either that females were worthless or that they were superior to men. On the other hand, sober treatises of domestic management advised readers—generally presumptively male readers—how to choose a spouse and order a household. Of the selections here, Joseph Swetnam and Rachel Speght exemplify the first kind of writing, and William Gouge the second. Joseph Swetnam (ca. 1570?—1621) published his Arraignment of Lewd, Idle, Froward and Unconstant

Women

in 1615, under the pseudonym Tom Tel-troth. Swetnam’s

rambling but lively attack on women cobbles together proverbs, rowdy jokes, and anecdotes, as well as often inexact or misattributed paraphrases of what various authorities had to say about women, evidently derived from anthologies and commonplace books. The latter were printed versions of the personal notebooks into which many readers were accustomed to copy, under various headings depending on interest and use, quotations and citations from their reading. The Arraignment touched off a pamphlet war between the years 1615 and 1620, including four reissues of Swetnam’s book and at least eight rejoinders or related works. Two of the answers bear women’s allegorical names, Esther Sowernam (a satiric play on Swe[e]tnam) and Constantia Munda (“steadfast world”); they may or may not have actually been written by women. Other works include a stage play, Swetnam the Women-Hater Arraigned by Women

(1620), and two satires on cross-dressing (the satires are included in the

NAEL Archive).

The first response to Swetnam, in 1617, and the only one of these tracts published under the author’s own name, was A Muzzle for Melastomus (Black Mouth), by the nineteen-year-old Rachel Speght (ca. 1597—?). Speght was the first Englishwoman to claim the role of polemicist and critic of gender ideology. Her tract defending women was published by, and perhaps solicited by, Swetnam’s bookseller, Thomas Archer. While A Muzzle employs the railing attacks and witty ripostes expected in such a controversy, in most of the treatise Speght undertakes a serious argument. Her strat-

egy resembles Aemelia Lanyer’s in Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum (pp. 981—86), reinterpreting controversial biblical texts to yield a more equitable concept of gender and challenging the stereotypes of female inferiority. Speght’s father, a Calvinist clergyman and author himself, evidently provided her with some classical education—very rare for seventeenth-century women of any class. In her writings Rachel Speght displays a knowledge of Latin, some training in logic and rhetoric, and some familiarity with a range of learned authorities. In 1621 she published a long meditative poem, Mortality'’s Memorandum, which was occasioned by her mother’s death. She prefaced it with an address to the reader reaffirming her authorship ofA Muzzle for Melastomus and with a three-hundred-line autobiographical poem, “A Dream,” available in the NAEL Archive, which vigorously defends the importance of education for women. William Gouge (1575-1653) was a clergyman educated at King’s College Cambridge, a prominent minister at St. Ann Blackfriars Church in London, and the father of thirteen children. His Puritan leanings occasionally led to friction with the authorities early in his career, but in the 1640s he was selected by Parliament to chair the 1198

GENDER

RELATIONS:

CONFLICT

AND

COUNSEL

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committee that developed the Westminster Confession, a set of principles designed to reform the English church along Calvinist lines. The Protestant Reformation had altered attitudes toward marriage and family life; while the Catholic Church honored celibacy and enjoined it for clergy, Protestants centered godly life on a harmonious marriage and the upbringing of devout children according to principles laid out in the Bible. This conviction spawned advice literature on the right ordering of the household, much of it written by ministers. Of Domestical Duties, perhaps the most thorough and popular Marriage. The Liturgy of Solemnizing Marriage of these manuals, was first pubfrom The Book of Common Prayer (1559) emphalished in 1622; new editions sized the purposes of marriage (with procreation appeared in 1626 and 1634. primary), the indissolubility of marriage, and the Gouge not only devotes chapters biblical texts undergirding that definition of to the proper roles of husband marriage. It also held up the ideal of mutual love and wife but also discusses the and help, which is represented in this emblem from George Wither’s A Collection of Emblems (1635). obligations of children, and the The Latin motto reads in English, “Hand Washes relations between masters and Hand.” servants. (All but the humblest seventeenth-century households employed domestic help.) Gouge exemplifies moderate Puritan opinion, emphasizing the importance of love between married partners and decrying the double sexual standard that tolerated adultery in the husband while condemning it in the wife. Yet Gouge is no feminist; he advocated a clear hierarchy in marriage, the husband firmly in charge and the wife embracing her submission willingly as her religious duty. The relation between a husband and wife, he argues, is analogous to the relationship between Christ and the church of

which he is the head. It is interesting to compare Gouge’s views to those of John Milton, another strongly Protestant writer, in Paradise Lost.

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From The Arraignment of Lewd, Idle, Froward' and

Unconstant Women: Or the Vanity of Them, Choose You Whether Neither to the best, nor yet to the worst;

but to the common sort of women. Musing with myself being idle, and having little ease to pass the time withal, and I being in a great choler* against some women, I mean more than one, and so in the rough of my fury, taking my pen in hand to beguile the time withal. Indeed, I might have employed myself to better use, than in such an idle business. x

x

*

To the Reader. Read it, if you please, and like as you list: neither to the wisest clerk,* nor yet to the starkest fool, but unto the ordinary sort of giddy-headed young men, I send this greeting. If thou mean to see the bearbaiting* of women, then trudge to this bear garden apace, and get in betimes,” and view every room where thou mayest best sit, for thy own pleasure, profit, and heart’s ease, and bear with my rudeness if I chance to offend thee. But before I do open this trunk full of torments against women, I think it were not amiss . . . to drive all the women out of my hearing, for doubt lest this little spark kindle into such a flame, and raise so many stinging hornets humming about my ears, that all the wit I have will not quench the one, nor quiet the other. For I fear me I have set down more than they will like of, and yet a great deal less than they deserve: and for better proof, I refer myself to the judgment of men which have more experience than myself. For I esteem little of the malice of women, for men will be persuaded by reason, but women must be answered with silence, for I know women will bark more at me than Cerberus the two-

headed dog did at Hercules, when he came into Hell to fetch out the fair Proserpina.°

1. Unruly, stubbornly willful. 2. Anger. Choler was one of the four humors, this one supposedly the source of anger and irascibility. 3. Scholar; originally, a clergyman (cleric). 4. Popular sport in medieval and early modern England in which a bear, chained to a post by his neck or one leg, was attacked by several dogs. The Paris Garden in Southwark was the largest

and most popular bear garden in London. 5. In good time. 6. Swetnam has confused several classical myths. Cerberus, the monster guarding the entrance to Hades, was

said to have three (not two) heads,

and Mercury (Hermes), not Hercules, was sent by Jove to release Proserpina. But the twelfth labor of Hercules was to bring Cerberus from Hades to the upper world.

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Chapter I. This first chapter shows to what use women were made. It also shows that most of them degenerate from the use they were framed unto, by leading a proud, lazy, and idle life, to the great hindrance of their poor husbands. Moses describes a woman thus: at the first beginning (says he) a woman was made to be a helper unto man,’ and so they are indeed: for she helps to spend and consume that which man painfully gets. He also says that they were made of the rib of a man,® and that their froward nature shows; for a

rib is a crooked thing, good for nothing else, and women are crooked by nature, for small occasion will cause them to be angry. Again, in a manner, she was no sooner made, but straightway her mind was set upon mischief, for by her aspiring mind and wanton will she quickly procured man’s fall, and therefore ever since they are and have been a woe unto man, and follow the line of their first leader.’

For I pray you let us consider the times past, with the time present. First, that of David and Solomon, if they had occasion so many hundred years ago to exclaim so bitterly against women, for the one of them said, that it was better to be a doorkeeper, and better dwell in a den among lions, than to be in the house with a froward and wicked woman. And the other said, that the

climbing up of a sandy hill to an aged man was nothing so wearisome as to be troubled with a froward woman... . If a woman hold an opinion, no man can draw her from it; tell her of her fault, she will not believe that she is in

any fault; give her good counsel, but she will not take it. If you do but look after another woman, then she will be jealous, the more thou lovest her, the

more she will disdain thee, and if thou threaten her, then she will be angry, flatter her, and then she will be proud, and if thou forbear her, it makes her bold, and if thou chasten her, then she will turn into a serpent. At a word, a

woman will never forget an injury, nor give thanks for a good turn. What wise man then will exchange gold for dross, pleasure for pain, a quiet life, for wrangling brawls, from the which married men are never free. 4

*

#

And what of all this? Why nothing, but to tell thee that a woman is better lost than found, better forsaken than taken. Saint Paul says, that they which marry, do well, but he also says, that they which marry not, do better,* and he no doubt was well advised what he spoke. Then, if thou be wise, keep thy head out of the halter and take heed before thou have cause to curse thy hard pennyworth,? or wish the priest speechless which knit the knot.

7. Genesis 2.18: “And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.” 8. Genesis 2.21—22. 9. L.e., Eve.

1. Swetnam evidently relies on his imperfect memory or on careless notes. The comparisons he paraphrases are not from Solomon or David

but from the biblical Apocrypha, attributed in the Book of Ecclesiasticus to Jesus Son of Sirach:

“I had

rather dwell

with

a lion and a dragon,

than to keep house with a wicked woman. . . . As the climbing up a sandy way is to the feet of the aged, so is a wife full of words to a quiet man.” 2. 1 Corinthians 7.38: “So then he that giveth her [his virgin] in marriage doeth well; but he that giveth her not in marriage doeth better.” Swetnam takes the quote out of context. 3. Something, in this case a wife, that is worth only a penny.

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The philosophers which lived in the old time, their opinions were so hard of marriage that they never delighted therein, for one of them being asked why he married not? he answered, that it was too soon. And afterwards when he was old, he was asked the same question, and he said then that it was too late. ed

If thou marriest a woman of evil report, her discredits will be a spot in thy brow; thou canst not go in the street with her without mocks, nor among thy neighbors without frumps.* And commonly the fairest women are soonest enticed to yield unto vanity. He that has a fair wife and a whetstone, everyone will be whetting thereon.’ And a castle is hard to keep when it is assaulted by many, and fair women are commonly caught at. He that marries a fair woman, everyone will wish his death to enjoy her. And if thou be never so rich, and yet but a clown? in condition, then will thy fair wife have her credit to please her fancy, for a diamond has not his grace but in gold,

no more has a fair woman her full commendations but in the ornament of her bravery,’ by which means there are divers women whose beauty has brought their husbands into great poverty and discredit by their pride and whoredom. A fair woman commonly will go like a peacock, and her husband must go like a woodcock.® 1615 4. Derisive jeers. 5. A whetstone is an abrasive stone for sharpening knives or other edged tools. The bawdy joke suggests that “everyone” will make use of both the stone and the fair wife.

RACHEL

6. A countryman, one who is uncouth or ill-bred. 7. Her rich and showy clothing and jewelry. 8. A common European migratory bird with mottled brown plumage; easily taken in a snare, it was associated with gullibility.

SPEGHT

From A Muzzle for Melastomus!

Not unto the veriest idiot that ever set pen to paper, but to the cynical? baiter of women, or metamorphosed Misogunes,* Joseph Swetnam From standing water, which soon putrifies, can no good fish be expected, for it produces no other creatures but those that are venomous or noisome, as snakes, and such like. Semblably,* no better stream can we look should

issue from your idle corrupt brain than that whereto the rough of your fury (to use your own words) has moved you to open the sluice. In which excrement of your roving cognitions you have used such irregularities touching

1. Black mouth. 2. A play on the Latin cynicus, “canine,” “doglike. 3. Hater of women (Greek, cf. Misogynist). Speght

identifies Swetnam as the author of the Arraignment, which he had signed Thomas Tel-troth. 4. Likewise.

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concordance,” and observed so disordered a method, as I doubt not to tell you, that a very accidence scholar would have quite put you down? in both. You appear herein not unlike that painter who, seriously endeavoring to portray Cupid’s bow, forgot the string.” For you, being greedy to botch up your mingle mangle invective against women, have not therein observed, in many places, so much as a grammar sense.® But the emptiest barrel makes the loudest sound, and so we will account of you. Many propositions have you framed, which, as you think, make much against women, but if one would make a logical assumption, the conclusion would be flat against your own sex. Your dealing wants so much discretion that I doubt whether to bestow so good a name as the dunce upon you: but minority” bids me keep within my bounds. And therefore I only say unto you that your corrupt heart and railing tongue have made you a fit scribe for the Devil. In that you have termed your virulent foam The Bearbaiting of Women, you have plainly displayed your own disposition to be cynical, in that there appears no other dog or bull to bait them, but yourself. Good had it been for you to have put on that muzzle which Saint James would have all Christians to wear: “Speak not evil one of another,”! and then you had not seemed so like the serpent Porphirus, as now you do; which, though full of deadly poison, yet being toothless, hurts none so much as himself.* For you having gone beyond the limits not of humanity alone but of Christianity, have done greater harm unto your own soul than unto women, as may plainly appear. First, in dishonoring of God by palpable blasphemy, wresting and perverting every place of Scripture that you have alleged, which by the testimony of Saint Peter, is to the destruction of them that do so.* Secondly, it appears by your disparaging of, and opprobrious speeches against, that excellent work of God’s hands, which in his great love he perfected for the comfort of man. Thirdly, and lastly, by this your hodgepodge of heathenish sentences, similes, and examples, you have set forth yourself in your right colors unto the view of the world, and I doubt not but the judicious will account of you according to your demerit. As for the vulgar sort, which have no more learning than you have showed in your book, it is likely they will applaud you for your pains. *

Of Woman's excellency, with the causes of her creation, and of the sympathy which ought to be in man and wife each toward other True it is, as is already confessed, that women first sinned, yet find we no mention of spiritual nakedness till man had sinned. Then it is said, “Their

5. Agreement of the parts of a sentence, according to the rules of grammar. 6. Revealed your errors and thereby disgraced you. “Accidence scholar”: a schoolboy learning his Latin grammar. 7. This may refer not to an actual image, but rather to the omission of what is crucially impor-

9. Her own youth (she is just nineteen years old). 1. James 4.11. This and later biblical texts, marked

(M) in these notes, are identified in the

margins of Speght’s original text as evidence of

scholarly accuracy.

tant.

2. This toothless but venomous serpent is discussed in the naturalist Topsell’s volume Serpents, though not the quality of hurting only himself.

8. See his first sentence for an example.

3. 2 Peter 3.16 (M).

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eyes were opened,” the eyes of their mind and conscience,

and then per-

ceived they themselves naked, that is, not only bereft of their integrity which they originally had, but felt the rebellion and disobedience of their members in the disordered motions of their now corrupt nature, which made them for shame to cover their nakedness. Then, and not before, it is said that they saw it, as if sin were imperfect, and unable to bring a deprivation of a blessing received, or death on all mankind, till man, in whom lay the active power of generation, had transgressed. The offense therefore of Adam and Eve is by Saint Augustine thus distinguished, “the man sinned against God and himself, the woman

against God, herself, and her hus-

band.” Yet in her giving of the fruit to eat she had no malicious intent toward him, but did therein show a desire to make her husband partaker of that happiness which she thought by their eating they should both have enjoyed. This her giving Adam of that sauce wherewith Satan had served her, whose sourness before he had eaten she did not perceive, was that which made her sin to exceed his. Wherefore, that she might not of him who ought to honor her be abhorred, the first promise that was made in

Paradise God made to woman, that by her seed should the serpent’s head be broken.®° Whereupon Adam calls her Hevah, life,’ that as the woman had been an occasion of sin, so should woman bring forth the Savior from sin,

which was in the fullness of time accomplished . . . so that by Eve’s blessed seed (as Saint Paul affirms) it is brought to pass, “that male and female are all one in Christ Jesus.”® *

a

The efficient cause of woman’s creation was Jehovah the Eternal, the truth of which is manifest in Moses his narration of the six days works, where he says, “God created them male and female.”? And David, exhorting all the earth to sing unto the Lord, meaning, by a metonymy,! earth, all creatures that live on the earth of which nation or sex soever, gives this reason, “For the Lord hath made us.”? That work, then, cannot choose but be good, yea very

good, which is wrought by so excellent a workman as the Lord, for he being a glorious creator, must needs effect a worthy creature. . . . Secondly, the material cause, or matter whereof woman

was made, was

of a refined mold, if Imay so speak. For man was created of the dust of the earth, but woman

was

made

of a part of man,

after that he was a living

soul. Yet was she not produced from Adam’s foot, to be his too low inferior, nor from his head to be his superior, but from his side, near his heart, to be his equal. That where he is lord she may be lady: and therefore said God concerning man and woman jointly, “Let them rule over the fish of the sea,

4. Genesis 3.7 (M). 5. This formula became a commonplace, perhaps derived (very loosely) from some phrases in St. Augustine’s sermon “De Adam et Eva et Sancta Maria,” 6. Genesis 3.15 (M). 7. Genesis

3.20 (M).

8. Galatians 3.28 (M). 9. Genesis 1.27 (M). Speght here begins her anal-

ysis of woman’s creation according to Aristotle's four causes of the making of any object: the efficient cause is the agent who made it; the material cause is the matter of which it is made; the formal cause is the plan or design by which it is formed;

the final cause is the purpose for which it is made, 1. A figure of speech in which a part or attribute of a thing is used for the whole. 2. Psalms

100.3 (M).

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and over the fowls of the heaven, and over every beast that moves upon the earth.”* By which words he makes their authority equal, and all creatures to be in subjection unto them both. . . . Thirdly, the formal cause, fashion, and proportion of a woman was excellent. For she was neither like the beasts of the earth, fowls of the air, fishes

of the sea, or any other inferior creature, but man was the only object which she did resemble. For as God gave man a lofty countenance, that he might look up toward heaven, so did he likewise give unto woman. And as the tem-

perature? of man’s body is excellent, so is woman’s. . . . And (that more is) in the image of God were they both created; yea and to be brief, all the parts of their bodies, both external and internal, were correspondent and meet each for other. Fourthly and lastly, the final cause or end, for which woman was made, was to glorify God, and to be a collateral companion for man to glorify God, in using her body and all the parts, powers, and faculties thereof, as instruments for his honor.

To the Reader®

Although (courteous reader) I am young in years and more defective in knowledge, that little smattering in learning which I have obtained being only the fruit of such vacant hours as I could spare from affairs befitting my sex, yet am I not altogether ignorant of that analogy which ought to be used in a literate responsory.° But the bearbaiting of women, unto which I have framed my apologetical’ answer, being altogether without method, irregular, without grammatical concordance, and a promiscuous mingle mangle, it would admit no such order to be observed in the answering thereof, as a

regular responsory requires. * * * 1617 3. Genesis 1.26 (M).

the baiter of women,

4. Mixture or composition of elements. 5. This preface introduces a brief satiric treatise

parts of his diabolical discipline.” 6. Answer or reply.

appended to A Muzzle, titled “Certain Quaeres to

7. Offering a defense or vindication.

WILLIAM

with confutation of some

GOUGE

From Of Domestical Duties Ofa wife's subjection in general The first point to be handled in the treatise of wives’ particular duties is the general matter of all under which all other particulars are comprised, for it hath as large an extent as that honor which is required in the first commandment being applied to wives. When first the Lord declared unto the

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woman! her duty, he set it down under this phrase: “Thy desire shall be subject to thine husband” (Genesis 3:16). Objection. That was a punishment inflicted on her for her transgression? Answer. And a law too, for trial of her obedience, which if it be not observed, her nature will be more depraved, and her fault more increased. Besides, we

cannot but think that the woman was made before the Fall, that the man might rule over her. Upon this ground the Prophets and Apostles have oft urged the same. Sarah is commended for this, that she was subject to her husband (1 Peter 3:6).? Hereby the Holy Ghost would teach wives, that sub-

jection ought to be as salt to season every duty which they perform to their husband. Their very opinion, affection, speech, action, and all that concerneth the husband, must savor of subjection. Contrary is the disposition of many wives, whom ambition hath tainted and corrupted within and without: they cannot endure to hear of subjection: they imagine that they are made slaves thereby. But I hope partly by that which hath been before delivered? concerning those common duties which man and wife do mutually owe each to other, and partly by the particulars which under this general are comprised, but most especially by the duties which the husband in particular oweth to his wife, it will evidently appear, that this subjection is no servitude. But were it more than it is, seeing God requireth subjection of a wife to her husband, the wife is bound to yield it. And good reason it is that she who first drew man into sin, should be now subject to him, lest by the like womanish weakness she fall again. Of an husband's superiority over a wife, to be acknowledged by the wife The subjection which is required of a wife to her husband implieth two things. 1. That she acknowledge her husband to be her superior. 2. That she respect him as her superior. That acknowledgment of the husband's superiority is Ewotald.

1. General of any husband. 2. Particular of her own husband.

The general is the ground of the particular:* for till a wife be informed that an husband, by virtue of his place, is his wife’s superior, she will not be persuaded that her own husband is above her, or hath any authority over her. First therefore concerning the general, I will lay down some evident and undeniable proofs, to show that an husband is his wife’s superior, and hath authority over her. The proofs are these following. 1. God of whom, the powers that be ordained, are (Romans

13:1), hath

power to place his image in whom he will, and to whom God giveth superiority and authority, the same ought to be acknowledged to be due unto them.

But God said of the man to the woman, he shall rule over thee (Genesis 3:16).

1. 2. 3. 4.

Eve, after the Fall in the Garden of Eden. Sarah was the wife of the patriarch Abraham, Earlier in Gouge’s treatise. Once the general premise (the superiority of all

husbands) is established, the particular instance (the superiority of a woman's own husband) will follow logically from it.

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2. Nature hath placed an eminency in the male over the female: so as where they are linked together in one yoke, it is given by nature that he should govern, she obey. This did the heathen by light of nature observe. 3. The titles and names, whereby an husband is set forth, do imply a superiority and authority in him, as “lord” (1 Peter 3:6), “master” (Esther), “guide” (Proverbs 2:17), “head” (1 Corinthians 2:3), “image and glory of God” (1 Corinthians 11:7).

4. The persons whom the husband by virtue of his place, and whom the wife by virtue of her place, represent, most evidently prove as much: for an husband representeth Christ, and a wife, the Church (Ephesians 5:23). 5. The circumstances noted by the Holy Ghost at the woman’s creation imply no less, as that she was created after man, for man’s good, and out of man’s side (Genesis 2:18, etc.).

6. The very taught women coverings over himself use to

attire which nature and custom of all times and places have to put on, comfirmeth the same: as long hair, veils, and other the head: this and the former argument doth the Apostle? this very purpose (1 Corinthians 11:7, etc.).

The point then being so clear, wives ought in conscience to acknowledge as much: namely that an husband hath superiority and authority over a wife. The acknowledgment hereof is a main and principal duty, and a ground of all other duties. Till a wife be fully instructed therein and truly persuaded thereof, no duty can be performed by her as it ought: for subjection hath relation to superiority and authority. The very notation of the word implieth as much. How then can subjection be yielded, if husbands be not acknowledged superiors? It may be forced, as one king conquered in battle by another, may be compelled to yield homage to the conqueror, but yet because he still thinketh with himself, that he is no whit inferior, he will hardly be brought willingly to yield a subject’s duty to him, but rather expect a time when he may free himself and take revenge of the conqueror.

Of a fond conceit® that husband and wife are equal Contrary to the forenamed subjection is the opinion of many wives, who think themselves every way as good as their husbands, and no way inferior to them. The reason whereof seemeth to be that small inequality which is betwixt the husband and the wife: for of all degrees wherein there is any difference betwixt person and person, there is the least disparity betwixt man and wife. Though the man be as the head, yet is the woman as the heart, which is the most excellent part of the body next the head, far more excellent than any other member under the head, and almost equal to the head in many respects, and as necessary as the head. As an evidence, that a wife is to man as the heart to the head, she was at her first creation (Genesis 2:21) taken out of the

side of man where his heart lieth; and though the woman was at first of the man (1 Corinthians 11:12) created out of his side, yet is the man also by

the woman. Ever since the first creation man hath been born and brought forth out of the woman’s womb: so as neither the man is without the woman,

nor the woman without the man: yea, as the wife hath not power of his own 5. The Apostle Paul.

6. Foolish idea.

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body, but he wife (1 Corinthians 7:4).’ They are also heirs together of the grace of life (1 Peter 3:7). Besides, wives are mothers of the same children,

whereof their husbands are fathers [for God said to both, multiply and increase (Genesis 1:28)] and mistresses of the same servants whereof they are masters [for Sarah is called mistress (Genesis 16:4)] and in many other respects there

is common equity betwixt husbands and wives; whence many wives gather that in all things there ought to be a mutual equality. But from some particulars to infer a general is a very weak argument.

1. Doth it follow, that because in many things there is a common equity betwixt judges of office, justices of peace, and constables of towns, that therefore there is in all things an equality betwixt them? 2. In many things there is not a common equity: for the husband may command his wife, but not she him.

3. Even in those things wherein there is a common equity, there is not an equality: for the husband hath ever even in all things a superiority: as if there be any difference even in the forenamed instances, the husband must have the stronger: as in giving the name of Rachel’s youngest child, where the wife would have one name, the husband another, that name which the

husband gave, stood (Genesis 35:18). Though there seem to be never so little disparity, yet God having so expressly appointed subjection, it ought to be acknowledged: and though husband and wife may mutually serve one another through love: yet the Apostle suffereth not a woman to rule over a man. . . Of a wife's acknowledgment of her own husband's superiority The truth and life of that general acknowledgment of husbands’ honor, consisteth in the particular application thereof unto their own proper husbands. The next duty therefore is, that wives acknowledge their own husbands, even those to whom by God’s providence they are joined in marriage, to be worthy of an husband’s honor, and to be their superior: thus much the Apostle intendeth by that particle of restraint (Ephesians 5:22,24) which he useth very often: so likewise doth St. Peter, exhorting wives to be in subjection to their own husbands (1 Peter 3:1,5): and hereunto restraining the commen-

dation of the ancient good wives, that they were in subjection to their own husbands. Objection. What if a man of mean place be married to a woman of eminent place, or a servant to be married to his mistress, or an aged woman to a youth, must such a wife acknowledge such an husband her superior?” Answer. Yea, verily: for in giving herself to be his wife, and taking him to be her husband, she advanceth him above herself, and subjecteth herself unto him. It meaneth nothing what either of them were before marriage: by virtue of that matrimonial bond the husband is made the head of his wife, though the husband were before marriage a very beggar, and of mean parentage, and the wife very wealthy and of a noble stock; or though he were her prentice, or bondslave; which also holdeth in the case betwixt an aged woman and a youth: for the Scripture hath made no exception in any of those cases. 7. The text seems corrupt at this point: Corinthians 1.7.4 reads in full: “The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife.”

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2. Objection. But what if a man of lewd and beastly conditions, as a drunkard, a glutton, a profane swaggerer, an impious swearer, and blasphemer, be married to a wife, sober, religious matron, must she account him her superior, and worthy of an husband’s honor? Answer. Surely she must. For the evil quality and disposition of his heart and life, doth not deprive a man of that civil honor which God hath given unto him. Though an husband in regard of evil qualities may carry the image of the devil, yet in regard of his place and office he beareth the image of God: so do magistrates in the commonwealth, ministers in the church, parents and

masters in the same family. Note for our present purpose, the exhortation of St. Peter to Christian wives which had infidel husbands, Be in subjection to them: let your conversation be in fear (1 Peter 3:1,2). If infidels carry not the

devil’s image, and are not, so long as they are infidels, vessels of Satan, who are? Yet wives must be subject to them, and fear them.

Of wives denying honor to their own husbands Contrary thereunto is a very perverse disposition in some wives, who think they could better subject themselves to any husband, than their own. Though in general they acknowledge that an husband is his wife’s superior, yet when the application cometh to themselves they fail, and cannot be brought to yield, that they are their husbands’ inferiors. This is a vice worse than the former. For to acknowledge no husband to be superior over his wife, but to think man and wife in all things equal, may proceed from ignorance of mind, and error of judgment. But for a wife who knoweth and acknowledgeth the general, that an husband is above his wife, to imagine that she herself is not inferior to her husband, ariseth from monstrous self-

conceit, and intolerable arrogancy, as if she herself were above her own sex, and more than a woman. Contrary also is the practice of such women... as purposely marry a man so far lower than themselves, for this very end, that they may rule over their own husbands: and of others who being aged, for that end marry youths, if not very boys. A mind and practice very unseemly, and clean thwarting God’s ordinance. But let them think of ruling what they list, the trust is, that they make themselves subjects both by God’s law and man’s: of which subjection such wives do oft feel the heaviest burden. Solomon noteth this to be one of the things for which the earth is disquieted, when a servant reigneth. Now when can a servant more domineer, than when he hath married his mistress? As for aged women who married youths, I may say, as in another case it was said, woe to thee, O wife whose husband is a

child. Unmeet it is that an aged man should be married to a young maid, but much more unmeet for an aged woman to be married to a youth. . . . Ofa wife's obedience in general Hitherto of a wife’s reverence, it followeth to speak of her obedience: The

first law that ever was given to woman since her fall, laid upon her this duty of obedience to her husband, in these words, “Thy desire shall be to thine husband, and he shall rule over thee” (Genesis 3:16). How can an husband

rule over a wife, if she obey not him? The principal part of that submission

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which in this text (Ephesians 5:22), and in many other places is required of a wife, consisteth in obedience: and therefore it is expressly commended unto wivesin the example of Sarah who obeyed Abraham(1 Peter 3:6). Thus by obedience doth the Church manifest her subjection to Christ. The place wherein God hath set an husband; namely,to be an head (Ephesians 5:23); the authority which he hath given unto him, to be a Lord (1 Peter 3:6), do all require obedience of a wife.Is not obedience to be

yielded to an head, lord, and master? Take away all authority from an husband, if ye exempt a wife from obedience. Contrary is the stoutness of such wives as must have their own will, and do what they list, or else all shall be out of quiet. Their will must be done, they must rule and over-rule all, they must command not only children and servants, but husbands also, if at least the husband will be at peace. Look into families, observe the estate and condition

of many of them, and then

tell me if these things be not so. If an husband be a man of courage, and seek to stand upon his right, and maintain his authority by requiring obedience of his wife, strange it is to behold what an hurly burly she will make in the house: but if he be a milksop, and basely yield unto his wife, and suffer her to rule, then, it may be, there shall be some outward quiet. The ground hereof is an ambitious and proud humor in women, who must needs rule, or else they think themselves slaves. But let them think as they list: assuredly herein they thwart God’s ordinance, pervert the order of nature, deface the image of Christ, overthrow the ground of all duty, hinder the good of the family, become an ill pattern to children and servants, lay themselves open to Satan, and incur many other mischiefs which cannot but follow upon the violating of this main duty of obedience, which if it be not performed, how can other duties be expected? 1622

_Inquiry and Experience _ he problem of knowledge—what we know, how we know, what areas most demand attention, what methods are useful in studying those areas—came to be of pressing concern to many seventeenth-century thinkers and writers. Throughout Europe, experimental scientists were producing treatises describing their discoveries—Galileo on astronomy, William Harvey on the circulation of the blood, William Gilbert on magnetism—challenging the received wisdom of the past. The emphasis in many of these works is on the writer’s direct personal experience, imagined as more immediate and convincing than any secondhand account. But what experiences were worth recording? For Francis Bacon, individual peculiarities, as well as some traits of the mind and senses shared by all human beings,

skew scientific objectivity and interfere with the search for truth. According to Bacon, the investigator must become conscious of these mental impediments, or “idols,” and purge his mind of them insofar as he can. In The New Atlantis, Bacon

proposes collaborative research institutes, which by pooling and orchestrating scientific inquiry, multiply the profitability of any individual’s explorations while simultaneously reducing the destructive effect of his quirks. In his essays, Bacon adopted the voice of accumulated public wisdom, writing from the perspective of a man of affairs eager to make his way in the murky world of Jacobean court culture. Bacon was not, however, himself a distinguished experimental scientist. William Harvey, a physician who discovers the circulation of the blood, is less concerned than Bacon with a theory of knowledge and more with the detailed, matter-of-fact descriptions of his actual experiments: he effectively practices what Bacon preaches. While writers like Bacon and Harvey championed “objective,” dispassionate scientific experimentation, other writers, such as Robert Burton and Sir Thomas Browne, find human idiosyncrasy a fascinating subject of inquiry in itself. Indeed, a new ideal of objectivity possibly allows human foibles to be delineated in sharper, because contrasting, relief. Burton writes about melancholy, a psychological condition he regards as simultaneously pathological and universal; Browne, examining himself, revels in his own lack of systematic rigor. In these and other writings of the period we see English prose developing remarkable stylistic range: sometimes epigrammatic, sometimes homely and vulgar, sometimes witty and boldly imagistic, sometimes learnedly allusive, sometimes ornately Latinate. While sixteenth-century prose typically employs long sentences with complex patterns of subordination and parallelism, early seventeenth-century prose favors broken rhythms, irregular phrasing, and more loosely organized sentences. Both the self-conscious embrace of whimsy and the tone of objective reportage— the latter visible not only in scientific writing but also in early journalism—are key precursors to the rise of the novel.

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SIR FRANCIS

BACON

_ sa literary figure Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1626) played a central role in the ~ development of the English essay and also inaugurated the genre of the scientific utopia in his New Atlantis (1627). But he was even more important to the intellectual and cultural history of the earlier seventeenth century for his treatises on reforming and promoting learning through experiment and induction. His life span closely overlapped that of Donne and Jonson, but unlike them he came from a noble family close to the centers of government and power. During Elizabeth’s reign he studied law and entered Parliament. But it was under James I that his political fortunes took off: he was knighted in 1603, became attorney general in 1613, lord chancellor (the highest judicial post) and Baron Verulam in 1618, and Viscount St. Albans in 1621. That same year, however, he was convicted on twentythree counts of corruption and accepting bribes and was fined, imprisoned, and forced from office. Bacon admitted the truth of the charges (though they were in part politically motivated), merely observing that everyone took bribes and that bribery never influenced his judgment. He later commented: “I was the justest judge that was in England these fifty years, but it was the justest censure in Parliament that was these 200 years.” As an essayist Bacon stands at almost the opposite pole from his great French predecessor Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592), who proposed to learn about humankind by an intensive analysis of his own sensations, emotions, attitudes, and ideas. Bacon’s essays are instead on topics “Civil and Moral.” Montaigne’s are tentative in structure; witty, expansive, and reflective in style; intimate, candid, and affable in

tone; and aphoristic objectivity himself as

he speaks constantly in the first person. By contrast, Bacon adopts an structure and a curt, often disjunctive style, as well as a tone of cool and weighty sententiousness; he seldom uses “I,” but instead presents a mouthpiece for society’s accumulated practical wisdom. The ten short

pieces of the first edition of his essays (1597) are little more

than collections of

maxims placed in sequence; the thirty-eight of the second edition (1612) are longer and looser; the fifty-eight of the final edition (1625) are still longer, are smoother in texture, use more figurative language, and are more unified. In that last edition,

more than half of the essays deal with public life, and many of the others—even on such topics as truth, marriage, and love—are written from the vantage point of a man of affairs rather than that of a profound moralist. They evoke an atmosphere of expediency and self-interest but also voice precepts of moral wisdom and public virtue, offering a penetrating insight into the thinking of the Jacobean ruling class. Early in his life Bacon declared, “I have taken all knowledge to be my province.” Whereas Donne, in the First Anniversary, saw human history as a process of inevitable degeneration and decay, Bacon saw it as progressive and believed that his new “scientific” method would lead humankind to a better future. He attempted a survey of the entire field of learning in The Advancement of Learning (1605), analyzing the principal obstacles to that advancement (rhetoric prompting the study of words rather than things, medieval scholasticism that ignores nature and promotes a barren rationalism, and pseudosciences such as astrology and alchemy); then he set forth what remains to be investigated. His Novum Organum (1620), written in Latin, urged induction—combining empirical investigation with carefully limited and tested generalizations—as the right method of investigating nature: the title challenged Aristotle's Organon, still the basis of university education, with its heavy reliance on deduction. Novum Organum includes a trenchant analysis of four kinds of “Idols”—

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psychological dispositions and intellectual habits that hold humankind back in its quest for truth. But despite his emphasis on experiment, Bacon generally ignored major scientific discoveries by Galileo, Harvey, Gilbert, and others; his true role was as a herald of the modern age. Despite his critique of rhetoric, he used the rich resources of figurative language—and of Utopian fiction in The New Atlantis—to urge a new faith in experiment and science. He segregated theology and science as “two truths,” freeing science to go its own way unhampered by the old dogmas and unrestrained by the morality they supported. He is a primary creator of the myth of science as a pathway to Utopia; late in the century the Royal Society honored him as a prophet.

From Essays!

Of Truth “What is truth?” said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for tainly there be that delight in giddiness,’ and count it a belief; affecting free will in thinking, as well as in acting. sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain

an answer.2 Cerbondage to fix a And though the certain discours-

ing wits,* which are of the same veins, though there be not so much blood in

them as was in those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labor which

men

take in finding out of truth; nor again, that when

it is

found, it imposeth upon? men’s thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians examineth the matter, and is at a stand® to think what should be in

it, that men should love lies, where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets, nor for advantage, as with the merchant, but for the lie’s sake. But I

cannot tell: this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques and mummeries and triumphs of the world half so stately and daintily as candlelights. Truth may perhaps come to the price ofa pearl, that showeth best by day, but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle,’ that showeth best in varied lights.

A mixture of a lie doth ever add

pleasure. Doth any man doubt that if there were taken out of men’s minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would,

and the like, but it would leave the minds of anumber of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves? One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum daemonum,® because it filleth the imagination, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt, such as we spake of before. But how-

soever these things are thus in men’s depraved judgments and affections, yet 1. Bacon’s

essays

appeared

in three editions,

1597 (10 essays), 1612 (38 essays), and 1625 (58

essays); we illustrate the considerable stylistic differences between the earliest and latest collections by presenting two versions of “Of Studies.” Otherwise, all selections are from the 1625 collection, in which “Of Truth” stands first. 2. See John 18.38 for Pilate’s idle query to Jesus. 3. Foolish changeability. “That”: those who.

4. Discursive minds. “Philosophers of that kind”: the Greek Skeptics, who taught the uncertainty of all things. 5. Restricts, controls.

6. l.e., is baffled. 7. Ruby.

8. “The wine of devils”; St. Augustine is probably being cited.

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truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the lovemaking or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature’ of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last was the light of reason; and his sabbath work ever since is the illumination of his Spirit. First he breathed light upon the face of the matter, or chaos; then he breathed light into the face of man;

and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of his chosen. The poet that beautified the sect that was otherwise inferior to the rest’ saith yet excellently well: “It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea; a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, and to see

a battle, and the adventures thereof below; but no pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth” (a hill not to be commanded,? and where the air is always clear and serene), “and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below”: so

always that this prospect? be with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth to have a man’s mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth. To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of civil business, it will be acknowledged even by those that practice it not, that clear and round? dealing is the honor of man’s nature, and that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth? it. For these winding and crooked courses are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so cover a man with shame as to be found false and perfidious. And therefore Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason why the word of the lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious charge, saith he, “If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth is as much to say as that he is brave towards God and a coward towards men.”® For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood and breach of faith cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God upon the generations of men, it being foretold that when Christ cometh, he shall not “find faith upon the earth.”” 1625

Of Marriage and Single Life He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men, which both in affection and means have married

9. Creation. 1. Lucretius’s On the Nature of Things expressed the Epicurean creed, which Bacon thought inferior because it emphasized pleasure. 2. Topped by anything higher.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

L.e., provided always that this observation. Upright. Debases. Essays 2.18. Luke 18.8.

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and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason that those that have children should have greatest care of future times, unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are who, though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account future times impertinences.' Nay, there are some other that account wife and children but as bills of charges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men that take a pride in having no children, because they may be thought so much the richer. For perhaps they have heard some talk, “Such an one is a great rich man,’ and another except to it, “Yea, but he hath a great charge of children”; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But the most ordinary cause of a single life is liberty, especially in certain self-pleasing and humorous* minds, which are so sensible of every restraint, as they will go near to think their girdles and garters to be bonds and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best servants, but not always best subjects, for they are light to run away, and almost all fugitives are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen, for charity will hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magistrates, for if they be facile’ and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly in their hortatives* put men in mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity; and single men, though they be many times more charitable, because their means are less exhaust, yet, on

the other side, they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom,

and therefore constant,

are commonly

loving husbands,

as

was said of Ulysses, Vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati.6 Chaste women are often proud and froward,’ as presuming upon the merit of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chastity and obedience, in the wife if she think her husband wise, which she will never do if she find him jealous. Wives are young men’s mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men’s nurses; so as a man may have a quarrel® to marry when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise men that made answer to the question when a man should marry: “A young man not yet, an elder man not at all.”? It is often seen that bad husbands have very good wives; whether it be that it raiseth the price of their husbands’ kindness when it comes, or that the wives take a pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands were of their own choosing, against their friends’ consent; for then they will be sure to make good their own folly. 1612, 1625

1. Irrelevant concerns. 2. Unbalanced, whimsical. 3. Pliable. 4. Exhortations. 5. Exhausted. 6. “He preferred his old wife to immortality.” Ulysses might have had immortality with the

nymph Calypso but preferred to go back to Penelope. 7. Il-tempered. 8. Pretext. 9. Thales (6th century B.c.£.), one of the Seven Sages of Greece.

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Of Great Place Men in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or state,

servants of fame, and servants of business. So as they have no freedom, neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in their times. It is a strange

desire, to seek power and to lose liberty, or to seek power over others and to lose power over a man’s self. The rising unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to greater pains; and it is sometimes base, and by indignities men

come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing: Cum non sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere.! Nay, retire men cannot when they would, neither will they when it were reason; but are impatient of privateness, even in age and sickness, which require the shadow; like old townsmen, that will be still sitting at their street door, though thereby they offer age to scorn. Certainly great persons had need to borrow other men’s opinions to think themselves happy; for if they judge by their own feeling, they cannot find it; but if they think with themselves what other men think of them, and that other men would fain be as they are, then they are happy, as it were by report; when perhaps they find the contrary within. For they are the first that find their own griefs, though they be the last that find their own faults. Certainly men in great fortunes are strangers to themselves, and while they are in the puzzle of business they have no time to tend their health, either of body or mind.

Illi mors gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus,

ignotus

moritur sibi.’ In place there is license to do good and evil, whereof the latter is a curse; for in evil the best condition is not to will, the second not to can.4

But power to do good (though God accept dreams, except they place, as the vantage end of man’s motion,

is the true and lawful end of aspiring; for good thoughts them) yet towards men are little better than good be put in act; and that cannot be without power and and commanding ground. Merit and good works is the and conscience? of the same is the accomplishment of

man’s rest; for if a man can be partaker of God’s theater,° he shall likewise

be partaker of God’s rest. Et conversus Deus, ut aspiceret opera quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit quod omnia essent bona nimis;’ and then the Sabbath.

In the discharge of thy place set before thee the best examples, for imitation is a globe® of precepts. And after a time set before thee thine own example; and examine thyself strictly, whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect not also the examples of those that have carried themselves ill in the same place; not to set off thyself by taxing’ their memory, but to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform,

therefore, without bravery, or scandal!

of former

times and persons; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to create good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things to the first institution,? and observe wherein and how they have degenerate; but yet ask counsel of both times; of 1. “When you aren't what you were, there's no reason to live” (Cicero, Familiar Letters 7.3). 2. “The shadow” of retirement, out of the glare of public life.

3. “Death lies heavily on him who, while too well known to everyone else, dies unknown to himself” (Seneca, Thyestes). 4. Be able.

5. Consciousness. 6. Actions in the world. 7. “And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1.31).

8. World. 9. Blaming. 1. Defaming. “Bravery”: ostentation. 2. To their original form.

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the ancient time what is best, and of the latter time what is fittest. Seek to make thy course regular, that men may know beforehand what they may expect; but be not too positive and peremptory, and express thyself well when thou digressest from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place, but stir not questions of jurisdiction; and rather assume thy right in silence and de facto,* than voice it with claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights of inferior places, and think it more honor to direct in chief than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps and advices touching the execution of thy place, and do not drive away such as bring thee information as meddlers, but accept of them in good part. The vices of authority are chiefly four: delays, corruption, roughness, and facility.+ For delays, give easy access, keep times appointed, go through with that which is in hand, and interlace not business but of necessity. For corruption, do not only bind thine own hands or

thy servants’ hands from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offering. For integrity used doth the one; but integrity professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, doth the other. And avoid not only the fault, but the suspicion. Whosoever is found variable and changeth manifestly, without manifest cause, giveth suspicion of corruption. Therefore, always when thou changest thine opinion or course, profess it plainly and declare it, together with the reasons that move thee to change; and do not think to steal it.° A servant or a favorite, if he be inward,’ and no other

apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought but a byway to close® corruption. For roughness, it is a needless cause of discontent; severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs from authority ought to be grave, and not taunting. As for facility, it is worse than bribery; for bribes come but now and then, but if importunity or idle respects’ lead a man, he shall never be without. As Solomon saith, “To respect persons is not good, for such a man will transgress for a piece of bread.”! It is most true that was anciently spoken, “A place showeth the man’; and it showeth some to the better and some to the worse. Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi imperasset,? saith Tacitus of Galba; but of Vespasian he saith,

Solus imperantium Vespasianus mutatus in melius:’ though the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of manners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy and generous spirit, whom honor amends.‘ For honor is, or should be, the place of virtue; and as in nature things move violently to their place and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is violent, in authority settled and calm. All rising to great place is by a winding stair; and if there be factions, it is good to side a man’s self? whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the memory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly; for if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them when they look not for it, than exclude them when they have reason to look to be called. Be not too sensible® 3. Without debate, as a matter of course. 4. Docility, too great obligingness. 5. L.e., do not carry on different businesses at the same time. : 6. Change your mind without its being noticed.

2. “Everyone would have thought him a good ruler, if he had not ruled.” 3. “Of all the emperors, only Vespasian changed for the better.” 4. I.e., whom promotion improves. “Sufficiency”:

7. In his master’s confidence.

abilities. “Affection”: disposition.

8. Secret.

5. For a man to take sides.

9. Irrelevant considerations. 1 . Cf. Proverbs 28.21.

6. Sensitive.

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or too remembering of thy place in conversation and private answers to suitors; but let it rather be said, “When he sits in place he is another man.” lol2,'625

Of Superstition! It were better to have no opinion of God at all than such an opinion as is unworthy of him. For the one is unbelief, the other is contumely:* and certainly superstition is the reproach of the deity. Plutarch saith well to that purpose: “Surely” (saith he) “I had rather a great deal men should say there was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they should say that there was one Plutarch that would eat his children as soon as they were born’—as the poets speak of Saturn.’ And as the contumely is greater towards God, so the danger is greater towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation, all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, though religion were not. But superstition dismounts all these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the minds of men. Therefore atheism did never perturb states, for it makes men wary of themselves as looking no further;* and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the time of

Augustus Caesar) were civil times. But superstition hath been the confusion of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mobile, that ravisheth all the spheres of government.’ The master of superstition is the people, and in all superstition wise men follow fools, and arguments are fitted to practice in a reversed order. It was gravely said by some of the prelates in the council of Trent, where the doctrine of the schoolmen bare great sway, that the school-

men were like astronomers, which did feign eccentrics and epicycles and such engines of orbs to save the phenomena, though they knew there were no such things;° and in like manner that the schoolmen had framed a number of subtle and intricate axioms and theorems to save the practice of the church. The causes of superstition are: pleasing and sensual rites and ceremonies; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness;’ overgreat reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the church; the stratagems of prelates for their own ambition and lucre; the favoring too much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits® and novelties; the taking an aim at divine matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations; and lastly barbarous times, especially joined with calamities and disasters. Supersti-

1. Irrational religious practices founded on fear or ignorance.

2. Contempt.

3. Saturn (Cronos), things), was reputed dren, as time does. Bacon’s essay come Superstition,” 4. L.e., not looking lifetimes. The

god of time (among other to have eaten all his chilMany of the sentiments in from Plutarch’s essay “On beyond their own

rule of Augustus

Caesar

personal (follow-

ing) was marked by general peace and civil quiet

(i.e., civilized). In this period of Roman history, many members of the elite no longer believed in the pagan gods, though they participated in the

forms of state religion. 5. The prime mover (primium mobile) was supposed to control the motions of the other heavenly

spheres; superstition is a second (and contrary) mover. 6. “Save the phenomena” means “explain appearances,”

as

did

the

elaborate

theories

of pre-

Copernican astronomers (epicycles, trepidation, and such concepts). So with the Scholastic philosophers (“schoolmen”). 7. The Pharisees were the strict party among the Jews of Christ's time; they taught precise observance of the letter of Mosaic law. 8. Fancies.

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tion without a veil is a deformed thing, for as it addeth deformity to an ape to be so like a man, so the similitude of superstition to religion makes it the more deformed. And as wholesome meat corrupteth to little worms, so good

forms and orders corrupt into a number of petty observances. There is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men think to do best if they go furthest from the superstition formerly received; therefore care would be had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not taken away with the bad, which commonly is done when the people is the reformer? 1612, 1625

Of Plantations! Plantations are amongst ancient, primitive, and heroical works. When the world was young it begat more children; but now it is old it begets fewer: for I may justly account new plantations to be the children of former kingdoms. I like a plantation in a pure soil; that is, where people are not displanted to the end to plant in others. For else it is rather an extirpation than a plantation. Planting of countries is like planting of woods; for you must make account to leese* almost twenty years profit, and expect your recompense in the end. For the principal thing that hath been the destruction of most plantations hath been the base and hasty drawing of profit in the first years. It is true, speedy profit is not to be neglected, as far as may stand? with the good of the plantation, but no further. It is a shameful and unblessed thing to take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with whom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth the plantation, for they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify over? to their country, to the discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith you plant ought to be gardeners,

plowmen,

laborers,

smiths,

carpenters, joiners,’ fishermen,

fowlers, with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and bakers.

In a country of plantation, first look about what kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand, as chestnuts, walnuts, pineapples, olives, dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like, and make

use of them. Then

consider what victual or esculent® things there are which grow speedily and within the year, as parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, radish, artichokes of

9. The final sentence is directed against Puritan reformers, who loathed ceremonies, traditions, liturgy, and images, which they considered “superstitions.” 1. The planting of colonies had been a standard topic of political theory since Plato, with attention focused on such matters as the choice of

site, the best mix of population, and the treatment of indigenous peoples. Sir Thomas More

considered the matter in his Utopia, and it took on increased practical importance in the narratives of English explorers such as Sir Walter Ralegh, and especially in the early 17th century, with the establishment of the first permanent English settlements in the New World. Bacon’s

essay largely avoids the most acute moral issues English colonization was posing: English participation in the brutal African slave trade, and the stocking of “plantations” in Ireland with Scottish Presbyterian settlers (to supplement genocidal policies that were starving the indigenous Roman Catholics). These policies sowed the seeds of slavery in America and civil war in Ireland. . Lose, . Be consistent. . Report.

. Workers in fine carpentry. . Edible.

BW an bw

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Jerusalem,’ maize, and the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask® too

much labor; but with peas and beans you may begin, both because they ask less labor and because they serve for meat? as well as for bread. And of rice likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat. Above all, there ought to be brought store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal, and the like in

the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and multiply fastest, as swine, goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, house doves, and the like. The victual in plantations

ought to be expended almost as in a besieged town; that is, with certain’ allowance. And let the main part of the ground employed to gardens or corn be to? a common stock, and to be laid in and stored up and then delivered out in proportion; besides some spots of ground that any particular person will manure? for his own private. Consider likewise what commodities the soil where the plantation is doth naturally yield, that they may some way help to defray the charge of the plantation (so it be not, as was said, to the untimely prejudice of the main business), as it hath fared with tobacco in Virginia. Wood commonly aboundeth but too much, and therefore timber is fit to be one. If there be iron ore and streams whereupon to set the mills, iron is a brave commodity, where wood aboundeth.* Making of bay-salt, if the climate be proper for it, would be put in experience.’ Growing silk likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity. Pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will not fail; so drugs and sweet woods, where they are, cannot but yield great profit. Soap ashes likewise, and other things that may be thought of. But moil® not too much underground, for the hope of mines is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters lazy in other things. For government, let it be in the hands of one, assisted with some counsel; and let them have commission to exercise martial laws, with some limitation. And above all, let men make that profit of being in the wilderness, as

they have God always, and his service, before their eyes. Let not the government of the plantation depend upon too many counselors and undertakers’ in the country that planteth, but upon a temperate number; and let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen than merchants, for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be freedoms from custom till the plantation be of strength; and not only freedom from custom, but freedom to carry their commodities where they may make their best of them, except there be some special cause of caution. Cram not in people by sending too fast, company after company, but rather harken how they waste,’ and send supplies proportionably, but so as the number may live well in the plantation, and not by surcharge! be in penury. It hath been a great endangering to the health of some plantations, that they have built along the sea and rivers, in marish? and unwholesome grounds. 7. Jerusalem artichokes, a species of sunflower having an edible root. “Jerusalem” is a mistranslation of the Italian word for sunflower, girasole. 8. Require. “For”: as for.

obtained by evaporating seawater. “Growing silk” (next sentence): vegetable silk. 6. Labor. “Soap ashes”: ashes used for making soap.

9. I.e., as a main dish.

7. Investors holding shares in the enterprise.

1. Fixed. 2. For. “Corn”: grain. 3. Cultivate. 4. Waterpower and wood fires were required for getting iron out of ore. “Brave”: excellent. 5. l.e., should be tried. “Bay-salt” is a coarse salt

8. Customs duties. 9. I.e., observe at what rate declines. 1. Le., by being overpopulated. 2. Marshy.

the

population

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Therefore, though you begin there, to avoid carriage and other like discom-

modities,* yet build still rather upwards from the streams than along. It concerneth likewise the health of the plantation that they have good store of salt with them, that they may use it in their victuals when it shall be necessary. If you plant where savages are, do not only entertain them with trifles and jingles, but use them justly and graciously, with sufficient guard nevertheless; and do not win their favor by helping them to invade their enemies, but for their defense it is not amiss. And send oft of them over to the

country that plants, that they may see a better condition than their own, and commend it when they return. When the plantation grows to strength, then it is time to plant with women as well as with men, that the plantation may spread into generations and not be ever pieced from without. It is the sinfullest thing in the world to forsake or destitute a plantation once in

forwardness; for besides the dishonor it is the guiltiness of blood of many

commiserable* persons.

1625

Of Negotiating It is generally better to deal by speech than by letter, and by the mediation of a third than by a man’s self. Letters are good when a man would draw an answer by letter back again, or when it may serve for a man’s justification afterwards to produce his own letter, or where it may be danger to be interrupted or heard by pieces. To deal in person is good when a man’s face breedeth regard, as commonly with inferiors, or in tender! cases, where a man’s

eye upon the countenance of him with whom he speaketh may give him a direction how far to go; and generally, where a man will reserve to himself liberty either to disavow or to expound. In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of a plainer sort, that are like to do that that is committed to them, and to report back again faithfully the success,” than those that are cunning to contrive out of other men’s business somewhat to grace themselves, and will help the matter in report for satisfaction sake. Use also such persons as affect? the business wherein they are employed, for that quickeneth much; and such as are fit for the matter, as bold men for expostulation, fair-

spoken men for persuasion, crafty men for inquiry and observation, froward and absurd men for business that doth not well bear out itself.4 Use also such as have been lucky, and prevailed before in things wherein you have employed them; for that breeds confidence, and they will strive to maintain their pre-

scription.’ It is better to sound a person with whom one deals afar off, than to fall upon the point at first, except you mean to surprise him by some short question. It is better dealing with men in appetite,° than with those that are where they would be. Ifaman deal with another upon conditions, the start or

3. Disadvantages, inconveniences.

4. Le., when your business is less than honest,

4. 1. 2. 3.

use an ill-tempered or foolish person. 5. Keep up their reputation. 6. Who are hungry, i.e., ambitious men.

Worthy of compassion. “Destitute”: abandon. Delicate. Result. Like.

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first performance is all, which a man cannot reasonably demand,’ except either the nature of the thing be such which must go before, or else a man can persuade the other party that he shall still need him in some other thing, or else that he be counted the honester man. All practice is to discover or to work.® Men

discover themselves

in trust, in passion, at unawares,

and of

necessity, when they would have somewhat done and cannot find an apt pretext. If you would work any man, you must either know his nature and fashions, and so lead him; or his ends, and so persuade him; or his weakness and

disadvantages, and so awe him; or those that have interest in him, and so govern him. In dealing with cunning persons, we must ever consider their ends, to interpret their speeches; and it is good to say little to them, and that which they least look for. In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look to sow and reap at once, but must prepare business, and so ripen it by degrees. L597 51025

Of Masques and Triumphs These things are but toys to come amongst such serious observations; but yet, since princes will have such things, it is better they should be graced with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to song is a thing of great state and pleasure. I understand it that the song be in choir, placed aloft, and accompanied with some

broken music,' and the ditty fitted to the device. Acting in

song, especially in dialogues, hath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not dancing (for that is a mean and vulgar thing);? and the voices of the dialogue would be strong and manly (a bass and tenor, no treble), and the ditty high and tragical, not nice or dainty. Several choirs, placed one over against another, and taking the voices by catches anthem-wise, give great pleasure. Turning dances into figure? is a childish curiosity; and, generally, let it be noted, that those things which I here set down are such as to naturally take the sense, and not respect petty wonderments. It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be quietly and without noise, are things of great beauty and pleasure for they feed and relieve the eye before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes abound with light, specially colored and varied; and let the masquers, or any other that are to come down from the scene,* have some motions upon the scene itself before their coming down; for it draws the eye strangely, and makes it with great pleasure to desire to see that it cannot perfectly discern. Let the songs be loud and cheerful, and not chirpings or pulings; let the music, likewise, be sharp and loud, and well placed. The colors that show best by candlelight? are

7. You cannot reasonably make special conditions favorable to you, except in the circumstances noted. 8. All sharp bargaining aims to find out what men are up to or to make use of them. “Discover” (next sentence): reveal. 1. Part-music, for different voices and different kinds of instruments. 2. Bacon’s emphasis on dialogue and song (as

opposed to dance) is in keeping with the increased emphasis on dialogue in later Jacobean and Car-

oline masques;

dance,

however,

remains

at the

center of both early and late masques. 3. Patterns with allegorical or numerological significance. 4. To unmask at the end and come onto the floor, so as to take part in the general dancing (the revels) with members of the court. 5. The Banqueting Hall at Whitehall, the site of many court masques, was lit only by candlelight; viewers complained that some masques were hard to see.

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white, carnation, and a kind of seawater green; and oes or spangs,° as they are of no great cost, so they are of most glory. As for rich embroidery, it is lost and not discerned. Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and such as become the person when the vizors are off: not after examples of known attires, Turks,

soldiers, mariners, and the like. Let antimasques’ not be long; they have been

commonly of fools, satyrs, baboons, wild men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches,

Ethiopes, pigmies, turquets,® nymphs, rustics, Cupids, statues moving, and the like. As for angels, it is not comical enough to put them in antimasques; and anything that is hideous, as devils, giants, is, on the other side, as unfit: but, chiefly, let the music of them be recreative, and with some strange changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, without any drops falling, are, in such a company as there is steam and heat, things of great pleasure and

refreshment. Double masques, one of men, another of ladies, addeth state and

variety; but all is nothing, except the room be kept clear and neat. For jousts, and tourneys, and barriers,’ the glories of them are chiefly in the chariots, wherein the challengers make their entry; especially if they be

drawn with strange beasts, as lions, bears, camels, and the like; or in the

devices of their entrance, or in the bravery of their liveries, or in the goodly furniture of their horses and armor. But enough of these toys. 1625

Of Studies [1597 version]! Studies serve for pastimes, for ornaments, and for abilities. Their chief use

for pastime is in privateness* and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in judgment.

men are fittest to judge or sloth; to use them too much wholly by their rules is the are perfected by experience.

For expert men? can execute, but learned

censure. To spend too much time in them is for ornament is affectation; to make judgment humor? of a scholar. They perfect nature, and Crafty men contemn them, simple men admire

them, wise men use them, for they teach not their own use; but that? is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to

contradict nor to believe, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested;

that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read but cursorily; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.

6. Spangles shaped like the letter “O.” 7. The antic dances (presented by professionals) that preceded the main masque dances and represented the vices, follies, or disorders that are

to be dispelled with the arrival of the main masques (royal and noble personages). 8. Turkish dwarfs. 9. One form of masque was the “joust,” “tourney” (tournament),

or “barrier,” which

chiefly

involved knights, who represented allegorical qualities, tilting lances against each other. 1. This version of the essay illustrates Bacon’s

early epigrammatic, balance,

parallelism,

aphoristic style, featuring disjunction

between

sen-

tences, and a curtness that is occasionally cryptic. The 1625 version keeps some aphoristic elements unchanged but provides more connectives and transitions, resulting in a smoother, more flowing style. 2. Private life. 3. Men of experience. 4. Disposition, implying folly.

5. Le., the knowledge

of how

“Without” (following): outside.

to use

them.

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Reading maketh a full man, conference® a ready man, and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit;’ and if he read little, he

had need have much cunning, to seem to know that® he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets, witty;? the mathematics, subtle; natural philosophy,’ deep; moral,’ grave; logic and rhetoric, able to contend.

Of Studies [1625 version]

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness! and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men? can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshaling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules is the humor? of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected by experience; for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them, for they teach not their own use; but that* is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously;> and

some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy and extracts made of them by others, but that would be only in the less important arguments and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters,° flashy things. Reading maketh a full man, conference’ a ready man, and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need

have much cunning, to seem to know that? he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets, witty;' the mathematics, subtle; natural philosophy,” deep; moral, grave; logic and rhetoric, able to contend. Abeunt studia in mores.

Nay, there is no stond or impediment in the wit but may be wrought out by fit studies, like as diseases of the body may have appropriate exercises. Bowling 6. 7. 8. 9. 1. 2. 1. 2.

Conversation. Lively intelligence. That which. Clever. Science. Moral philosophy. Private life. Men of experience.

3. Folly. 4. l.e., the knowledge of how ithout” (following): outside.

5. Attentively. 6. Used as home remedies, without real value. 7. Conversation. 8. Lively intelligence. 9. That which. 1. Clever. 2. Science. “Moral” (following): i.e., moral philosophy. to

use

them.

3. “Studies culminate in manners” (Ovid, Heroides). “Stond” (following): stoppage.

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is good for the stone and reins,* shooting for the lungs and breast, gentle

walking for the stomach, riding for the head, and the like. So if a man’s wit

be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the schoolmen, for they are cumini sectores. If he be not apt to beat over matters® and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyer's cases. So every defect of the mind may have a special receipt.’

From The Advancement of Learning [THE ABUSES OF LANGUAGE]!

Martin Luther, conducted (no doubt) by an higher providence, but in discourse of reason finding what a province he had undertaken against the bishop of Rome? and the degenerate traditions of the church, and finding his own solitude being no ways aided by the opinions of his own time, was enforced to awake all antiquity and to call former times to his succor to make a party against the present time, so that the ancient authors both in divinity and in humanity which had long time slept in libraries began generally to be read and revolved.’ This by consequence did draw on a necessity of a more exquisite travail in the languages original wherein those authors did write,’ for the better understanding of those authors and the better advan-

tage of pressing and applying their words. And thereof grew again a delight in their manner of style and phrase, and an admiration of that kind of writing, which was much furthered and precipitated by the enmity and opposition that the propounders of those (primitive but seeming new) opinions had against the schoolmen, who were generally of the contrary part, and whose writings were altogether in a differing style and form, taking liberty to coin and frame new terms of art to express their own sense and to avoid circuit of speech, without regard to the pureness, pleasantness, and (as I may call it) lawfulness of the phrase or word.’ And again, because the greatest labor then was with the people (of whom the Pharisees were wont to say, Execrabilis ista turba, quae non novit legem®) for the winning and persuading of them there grew of necessity in chief price and request’ eloquence and variety of discourse, as the fittest and forciblest access into the capacity of the 4. Gallstone and kidneys. 5. “Dividers

of cuminseed,”

i.e., hairsplitters.

“Schoolmen”: Scholastic philosophers. 6. Discuss a subject thoroughly. 7. Cure, prescription. 1. Among the “three distempers of learning” that Bacon proposes to cure in this work, the most

important

involves

“vain

imaginations,

vain altercations, and vain affectations”; to help explain these he offers a concise history of changes in the language of learned discourse since the Reformation. 2. The pope. “Province”: task. 3. Considered. Luther (1483—1546) indeed looked

back to the original languages of the Bible and to ancient authors in “divinity” (chiefly Augustine),

but he was not involved in the efforts of the humanists (including Erasmus and Sir Thomas More) to revive the classical languages and authors. 4. Classical

Greek

and

Latin,

and_

biblical

Hebrew. “Exquisite travail”: careful work. 5. The Scholastic philosophers (“schoolmen”) used the living Latin of the Middle Ages, wrenching the language yet further from classical norms in applying it to subtle philosophical matters; the humanists denounced the Scholastics’ Latin as barbarous and sought instead to imitate classical models, especially Cicero. 6. “This people who knoweth not the law are cursed” (John 7.49).

7. Worth and demand.

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vulgar sort. So that these four causes concurring (the admiration of ancient authors, the hate of the schoolmen, the exact study of languages, and the efficacy of preaching) did bring in an affectionate study of eloquence and copy® of speech, which then began to flourish. This grew speedily to an excess, for men began to hunt more after words than matter, and more after the choiceness of the phrase, and the round and clean composition of the sentence, and the sweet falling of the clauses, and the varying and illustration of their works with tropes and figures’ than after the weight of matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, or depth ofjudgment. Then grew the flowing and watery vein of Osorius, the Portugal bishop, to be in price. Then did Sturmius spend such infinite and curious pains upon Cicero the orator and Hermogenes the rhetorician, besides his own books of periods and imitation and the like.! Then did Carr of Cambridge and Ascham with their lectures and writings almost deify Cicero and Demosthenes, and allure all young men that were studious unto that delicate and polished kind of learning.* Then did Erasmus take occasion to make the scoffing echo, Decem annos consumpsi in legendo Cicerone, and the echo answered in Greek, one, Asine.* Then grew the learning of the schoolmen to be utterly despised as barbarous. In sum, the whole inclination and bent of those times was rather towards copy than weight.* Here therefore is the first distemper of learning, when men study words and not matter, whereof though I have represented an example of late times, yet it hath been and will be secundum maius et minus? in all time. And how is it possible but this should have an operation to discredit learning, even with vulgar capacities, when they see learned men’s works like the first letter of a patent or limned® book, which though it hath large flourishes, yet it is but a letter? It seems to me that Pygmalion’s frenzy’ is a good emblem or portraiture of this vanity, for words are but the images of matter, and except they have life of reason and invention, to fall in love with them

is all one as to fall in love with a picture. But yet notwithstanding, it is a thing not hastily to be condemned to clothe and adorn the obscurity even of philosophy itself with sensible and plausible elocution. For hereof we have great examples in Xenophon, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and of Plato also in some degree; and hereof likewise there is great use, for surely to the severe inquisition of truth and the deep progress into philosophy it is some hindrance, because it is too early satisfactory to the mind of man, and quencheth the desire of further search before we come to a just period; but then if a man be to have any use of such knowledge in civil occasions of conference, counsel, persuasion, discourse, or the like, then shall he find it prepared to his hands in those authors which write 8. Copiousness. “Affectionate”: affected. 9. Figurative language. 1. Jeronimo Osorio (1506-1580) wrote a history of Portuguese conquests in a flowing style that caused him to be known as the Portuguese Cicero. His

contemporary, Johann Sturm, edited texts of Cicero and

the

Greek

rhetorician

Hermogenes;

his

“book of periods” was a rhetorical handbook. 2. Nicholas Carr was professor of Greek at Cambridge; Roger Ascham was tutor to Queen Elizabeth and author of The Schoolmaster. Both

admired the rhetorical polish of the Roman orator

Cicero and the Greek orator Demosthenes. 3. “I spent ten years in reading Cicero.” Echo answers, “Ass!” The joke is in the Colloquies of Erasmus.

4. Elegant phrasing rather than profundity. 5. More or less, depending on circumstances. 6. Hluminated, i.e., illustrated, as with elaborate initial capitals. Royal grants (“patents”) were also engrossed with fancy initial letters. 7. Pygmalion’s “frenzy” (delirium) was to fall in love with a statue he had carved of a beautiful woman.

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in that manner. But the excess of this is so justly contemptible that as Hercules, when he saw the image of Adonis, Venus’ minion, in a temple, said in disdain, Nil sacri es; so there is none of Hercules’ followers in learning, that is, the more severe and laborious sort of inquirers into truth, but will despise those delicacies and affectations as indeed capable of no divineness. 1605

From Novum Organum! 19

There are and can be only two ways of searching into and discovering truth. The one flies from the senses and particulars to the most general axioms, and from these principles, the truth of which it takes for settled and immovable, proceeds to judgment and to the discovery of middle axioms.? And this way is now in fashion. The other derives from the senses and particulars, rising by a gradual and unbroken ascent, so that it arrives at the most general axioms last of all.? This is the true way, but as yet untried. ae

ae

22

Both ways set out from the senses and particulars, and rest in the highest generalities, but the difference between them is infinite. For the one just glances at experiment and particulars in passing, the other dwells duly and orderly among them. The one, again, begins at once by establishing certain abstract and useless generalities, the other rises by gradual steps to that which is prior and better known in the order of nature. **

os

38

The idols and false notions which are now in possession of the human understanding and have taken deep root therein, not only so beset men’s minds that truth can hardly find entrance, but even after entrance is obtained, they will again in the very instauration* of the sciences meet and 8. “You're nothing holy.” Adonis was the lover (“minion”) of Venus, deified after his death while

boar hunting. 9. Hercules early in life was offered a choice between a life of ignoble ease and sensory delights and one of strenuous virtue. He chose the latter, and so do his followers in learning. 1. Novum Organum, or “The New Instrument of

Learning,” was written not in English but in Latin, for an international scholarly audience. Nonetheless it requires our attention here, as it is the keystone of Bacon’s vast project to reform the structure of human learning from the

ground up. His reform called for careful observation of all aspects of nature and controlled experiment, but the first part of the book analyzes the stumbling blocks in the way—among them, famously, the various “idols,” or delusive images of truth that lead people away from the exact knowledge of science. 2. The deductive method, associated with Aristotle and the Scholastic philosophers. 3. The inductive method that Bacon here champions.

4. Renovation, renewal.

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trouble us, unless men being forewarned of the danger fortify themselves as far as may be against their assaults.

4] The Idols of the Tribe have their foundation in human nature itself, and in

the tribe or race of men. For it is a false assertion that the sense of man is the measure of things. On the contrary, all perceptions as well of the sense as of the mind are according to the measure of the individual and not according to the measure of the universe. And the human understanding is like a false mirror, which, receiving rays irregularly, distorts and discolors the nature of things by mingling its own nature with it. 42

The Idols of the Cave are the idols of the individual man. For everyone (besides the errors common

to human nature in general) has a cave or den

of his own, which refracts and discolors the light of nature, owing either to his own proper and peculiar nature, or to his education and conversation with others, or to the reading of books, and the authority of those whom he esteems and admires; or to the difference of impressions, accordingly as they take place in a mind preoccupied and predisposed or in a mind indifferent and settled, or the like. So that the spirit of man (according as it is meted out to different individuals) is in fact a thing variable and full of perturbation, and governed as it were by chance. Whence it was well observed by Heraclitus*> that men look for sciences in their own lesser worlds, and not in the greater or common world. 43

There are also idols formed by the intercourse and association of men with each other, which I call Idols of the Marketplace, on account of the com-

merce and consort of men there. For it is by discourse that men associate, and words are imposed according to the apprehension of the vulgar. And therefore the fit and unfit choice of words wonderfully obstructs the understanding. Nor do the definitions or explanations wherewith in some things learned men are wont to guard and defend themselves, by any means set the matter right. But words plainly force and overrule the understanding, and throw all into confusion, and lead men away into numberless empty controversies and idle fancies.

44 Lastly, there are idols which have immigrated into men’s minds from the various dogmas of philosophies, and also from wrong laws of demonstration. 5. Greek philosopher (ca. 513 B.c.£.) who considered knowledge to be based on perception by the senses and thought that everything was in flux.

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These I call Idols of the Theater, because in my judgment all the received systems are but so many stage plays, representing worlds of their own creation after an unreal and scenic fashion. Nor is it only of the systems now in vogue or only of the ancient sects and philosophies that I speak; for many more plays of the same kind may yet be composed and in like artificial manner set forth, seeing that errors the most widely different have nevertheless causes for the most part alike. Neither again do I mean this only of entire systems, but also of the many principles and axioms in science, which by tradition, credulity, and negligence have come to be received.

Sy)

But the Idols of the Marketplace are the most troublesome of all: idols which have crept into the understanding through the alliances of words and names. For men believe that their reason governs words; but it is also true that words react on the understanding; and this it is that has rendered philosophy and the sciences sophistical and inactive. Now words, being commonly framed and applied according to the capacity of the vulgar, follow those lines of division which are most obvious to the vulgar understanding. And whenever an understanding of greater acuteness or a more diligent observation would alter those lines to suit the true divisions of nature, words stand in the way and resist the change. Whence it comes to pass that the high and formal discussions of learned men end oftentimes in disputes about words and names; with which (according to the use® and wisdom

of the mathematicians)

it

would be more prudent to begin, and so by means of definitions reduce them to order. Yet even definitions cannot cure this evil in dealing with natural and material things; since the definitions themselves consist of words, and those

words beget others;’ so that it is necessary to recur to individual instances, and those in due series and order; as I shall say presently when I come to the method and scheme for the formation of notions and axioms. 60

The idols imposed by words on the understanding are of two kinds. They are either names of things which do not exist (for as there are things left unnamed through lack of observation, so likewise are there names which result from fantastic suppositions and to which nothing in reality corresponds), or they are names of things which exist, but yet confused and illdefined, and hastily and irregularly derived from realities. Of the former kind are Fortune, the Prime Mover, Planetary Orbits, Element of Fire, and

like fictions which owe their origin to false and idle theories.® And this class

6. Custom.

7. Bacon’s mistrust of words helped to prompt the Royal Society (founded in 1645) to cultivate a plain, stripped prose style for purposes of scientific communication. 8. The “Prime Mover” was a transparent sphere on the outside of the universe, supposed to move

all the other spheres; the “Element of Fire” was an area of pure, invisible fire, supposed to exist above the atmosphere. By “Planetary Orbits” Bacon may be referring to the old notion of crystalline spheres in which the planets were supposed to be set. Obviously, these concepts could be based on no observation.

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of idols is more easily expelled, because to get rid of them it is only necessary that all theories should be steadily rejected and dismissed as obsolete.’ But the other class, which springs out of a faulty and unskillful abstraction, is intricate and deeply rooted. Let us take for example such a word as humid; and see how far the several things which the word is used to signify agree with each other; and we shall find the word humid to be nothing else

than a mark loosely and confusedly applied to denote a variety of actions which will not bear to be reduced to any constant meaning. For it both signifies that which easily spreads itself round any other body; and that which in itself is indeterminate and cannot solidize; and that which readily yields in every direction; and that which easily divides and scatters itself; and that which easily unites and collects itself; and that which readily flows and is put in motion; and that which readily clings to another body and wets it; and that which is easily reduced to a liquid, or being solid easily melts. Accordingly when you come to apply the word—if you take it in one sense, flame is humid; if in another, air is not humid; if in another, fine dust is humid; if in

another, glass is humid. So that it is easy to see that the notion is taken by abstraction only from water and common and ordinary liquids, without any due verification. There are however in words certain degrees of distortion and error. One of the least faulty kinds is that of names of substances, especially of lowest species and well-deduced (for the notion of chalk and of mud is good, of

earth bad); a more faulty kind is that of actions, as to generate, to corrupt, to alter; the most faulty is of qualities (except such as are the immediate objects of the sense), as heavy, light, rare, dense, and the like. Yet in all these cases

some notions are of necessity a little better than others, in proportion to the greater variety of subjects that fall within the range of the human sense. 3

Bs

+

62

Idols of the Theater, or of systems, are many, and there can be and perhaps will be yet many more. For were it not that now for many ages men’s minds have been busied with religion and theology; and were it not that civil governments, especially monarchies, have been averse to such novelties, even in matters speculative, so that men labor therein to the peril and harming of their fortunes, not only unrewarded, but exposed also to contempt and envy; doubtless there would have arisen many other philosophical sects like to those which in great variety flourished once among the Greeks. For as on the phenomena of the heavens many hypotheses may be constructed, so likewise (and more also) many various dogmas may be set up and established on the phenomena of philosophy. And in the plays of this philosophical theater you may observe the same thing which is found in the theater of the poets, that stories invented for the stage are more compact and elegant, and more as one would wish them to be, than true stories out of history.

9. Bacon does not mean “theories” in the inclusive modern sense, but “abstractions loosely invoked to explain particular facts.”

BACON:

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2a)

In general, however, there is taken for the material of philosophy either a great deal out of a few things, or a very little out of many things; so that on both sides philosophy is based on too narrow a foundation of experiment and natural history, and decides on the authority of too few cases. For the rational school of philosophers snatches from experience a variety of common instances, neither duly ascertained nor diligently examined and weighed, and leaves all the rest to meditation and agitation of wit.! There is also another class of philosophers, who having bestowed much diligent and careful labor on a few experiments, have thence made bold to educe and construct systems; wresting all other facts in a strange fashion to conformity therewith. And there is yet a third class, consisting of those who out of faith and veneration mix their philosophy with theology and traditions; among whom the vanity of some has gone so far aside as to seek the origin of sciences among spirits and genii. So that this parent stock of errors—this false philosophy—is of three kinds: the sophistical, the empirical, and the superstitious. #6

xe

x

68

So much concerning the several classes of idols, and their equipage: all of which must be renounced and put away with a fixed and solemn determination, and the understanding thoroughly freed and cleansed; the entrance into the kingdom of man, founded on the sciences, being not much other than the entrance into the kingdom of heaven, whereinto none may enter except as a little child. 1620

From The New Atlantis! [SOLOMON’S HOUSE]

We came at our day and hour, and I was chosen by my fellows for the private access.” We found him in a fair chamber, richly hanged, and carpeted under foot, without any degrees to the state.? He was set upon a low throne richly adorned, and a rich cloth of state over his head, of blue satin embroidered. 1. Bacon’s enthusiasm for experiment at times led him to denigrate the value of reason, but what he chiefly opposes here is the excessive concern with logic he finds in the Scholastic philosophers. 1. Thomas More's Utopia (1516) set a fashion for

accounts of imaginary communities

with more

or less ideal forms of government. Bacon’s imaginary community has at its center an account of a research

establishment,

Solomon’s

House,

that

could exist in any society; indeed a version of it was established in England in 1662 as the Royal Society. Bacon’s title alludes to the legendary island and ideal commonwealth in the Atlantic

Ocean described by Plato in Critias; in the 17th century it was

sometimes

located

in the New

World. Bacon places his island, Bensalem, in the Pacific, roughly where the Solomon Islands had been discovered in 1568. After an imaginary journey the nameless narrator and his shipmates discover an island cut off from Hebrew and Greek civilization (though given a special revelation of Christianity) and thereby freed to focus on the development of science. 2. Audience with one of the scientific “Fathers” of Solomon’s House. 3. Without stairs leading up to the dais.

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He was alone, save that he had two pages of honor, on either hand one, finely attired in white. His undergarments were the like that we saw him wear in the chariot;* but instead of his gown, he had on him a mantle with a cape of the same fine black, fastened about him. When we came in, as we were taught, we bowed low at our first entrance, and when we were come near his

chair, he stood up, holding forth his hand ungloved and in posture of blessing; and we every one of us stooped down, and kissed the hem of his tippet.’ That done, the rest departed, and I remained. Then he warned the pages forth of the room, and caused me to sit down beside him, and spake to me thus in

the Spanish tongue: “God bless thee, my son; I will give thee the greatest jewel I have. For I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and men, a relation of the true state of Solomon’s House. Son, to make you know the true state of Solomon’s House, I will keep this order. First, I will set forth unto you the end of our foundation. Secondly, the preparations and instruments we have for our works. Thirdly, the several employments and functions whereto our fellows are assigned. And fourthly, the ordinances and rites which we observe. “The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes, and secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of human empire, to the effecting of all things possible. “The preparations and instruments are these. We have large and deep caves of several depths: the deepest are sunk six hundred fathom; and some of them are digged and made under great hills and mountains; so that if you reckon together the depth of the hill and the depth of the cave, they are, some of them, above three miles deep. For we find that the depth of a hill,

and the depth of a cave from the flat, is the same thing; both remote alike from the sun and heaven’s beams, and from the open air. These caves we call the Lower Region, and we use them for all coagulations, indurations,°

refrigerations, and conservations of bodies. We use them likewise for the imitation of natural mines, and the producing also of new artificial metals, by compositions and materials which we use, and lay there for many years. We use them also sometimes (which may seem strange) for curing of some diseases, and for prolongation of life in some hermits that choose to live there, well accommodated of’ all things necessary, and indeed live very long;

by whom also we learn many things. “We have burials in several earths, where we put divers cements,® as the Chinese do their porcelain. But we have them in greater variety, and some of them more fine. We have also great variety of composts and soils, for the making of the earth fruitful. “We have high towers, the highest about half a mile in height, and some of them likewise set upon high mountains, so that the vantage of the hill, with the tower, is in the highest of them three miles at least. And these places we call the Upper Region, accounting the air between the high places and the low as a Middle Region. We use these towers, according to their several heights and situations, for insolation, refrigeration, conserva-

4. He had made a triumphal entry into the city the previous day, wearing an undergarment of white linen and a black robe. SS carks

Hardenings. . Provided with. . Clays and pottery mixtures. Ow OND . Exposure to the sun.

BACON:

THE

tion, and for the view of divers meteors—as

NEW

ATLANTIS

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1172 38)

winds, rain, snow, hail; and

some of the fiery meteors! also. And upon them, in some places, are dwellings of hermits, whom we visit sometimes, and instruct what to observe. “We have great lakes, both salt and fresh, whereof we have use for the fish

and fowl. We use them also for burials of some natural bodies, for we find a

difference in things buried in earth, or in air below the earth, and things buried in water. We have also pools, of which some do strain fresh water out of salt, and others by art do turn fresh water into salt. We have also some rocks in the midst of the sea, and some bays upon the shore, for some works wherein is required the air and vapor of the sea. We have likewise violent streams and cataracts, which serve us for many motions; and likewise engines for multiplying and enforcing? of winds to set also on going divers motions. “We have also a number of artificial wells and fountains, made in imitation of the natural sources and baths, as tincted upon? vitriol, sulphur, steel, brass, lead, niter, and other minerals; and again, we have little wells for infusions of many things, where the waters take the virtue* quicker and better

than in vessels or basins. And amongst them we have a water which we call Water of Paradise, being by that we do to it, made very sovereign? for health and prolongation of life. “We have also great and spacious houses, where we imitate and demonstrate meteors—as snow, hail, rain, some artificial rains of bodies and not

of water, thunders, lightnings; also generations of bodies in air—as frogs, flies, and divers others. “We have also certain chambers,

which we call Chambers

of Health,

where we qualify® the air as we think good and proper for the cure of divers diseases and preservation of health. “We have also fair and large baths, of several mixtures, for the cure of diseases and the restoring of man’s body from arefaction;’ and others for the confirming of it in strength of sinews, vital parts, and the very juice and substance of the body. “We have also large and various orchards and gardens, wherein we do not so much respect beauty as variety of ground and soil, proper for divers trees and herbs, and some very spacious, where trees and berries are set, whereof

we make divers kinds of drinks, besides the vineyards. In these we practice likewise all conclusions® of grafting and inoculating, as well of wild trees as fruit trees, which produceth many effects. And we make (by art) in the

same orchards and gardens trees and flowers to come earlier or later than their seasons, and to come up and bear more speedily than by their natural course they do. We make them also by art greater much than their nature; and their fruit greater and sweeter, and of differing taste, smell, color, and figure, from their nature. And many of them we so order as they become of medicinal use. “We have also means to make divers plants rise by mixtures of earths without seeds, and likewise to make divers new plants, differing from the vulgar,’ and to make one tree or plant turn into another. 1. Anything that fell from the sky was, in Renaissance terminology, a meteor. 2. Reinforcing, strengthening.

5. Efficacious. 6. Modify. 7. Drying up.

3. Tinctured with.

8. Experiments.

4. Property (of the substances put into water).

9. Ordinary.

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“We have also parks and enclosures of all sorts of beasts and birds; which we use not only for view or rareness, but likewise for dissections and trials,! that thereby we may take light what may be wrought upon the body of man. Wherein we find many strange effects: as continuing life in them, though divers parts, which you account vital, be perished and taken forth; resuscitating of some that seem dead in appearance; and the like. We try also all poisons and other medicines upon them, as well of chirurgery” as physic. By art likewise, we make them greater or taller than their kind is, and contrariwise

dwarf them and stay their growth; we make them more fruitful and bearing than their kind is, and contrariwise barren and not generative. Also, we make

them differ in color, shape, activity, many ways. We find means to make commixtures and copulations of different kinds, which have produced many new kinds,* and them not barren, as the general opinion is. We make a number of kinds of serpents, worms, fishes, flies, of putrefaction, whereof some are advanced (in effect) to be perfect creatures, like beasts or birds, and have

sexes, and do propagate. Neither do we this by chance, but we know beforehand of what matter and commixture what kind of those creatures will arise. “We have also particular pools where we make trials upon fishes, as we have said before of beasts and birds. “We have also places for breed and generation of those kinds of worms and flies which are of special use; such as are with you your silkworms and bees.” pa

x

“For the several employments and offices of our fellows, we have twelve that sail into foreign countries under the names of other nations (for our own we conceal), who bring us the books and abstracts and patterns of experiments of all other parts. These we call Merchants of Light. “We have three that collect the experiments which are in all books. These we call Depredators. “We have three that collect the experiments of all mechanical arts, and also of liberal sciences, and also of practices which are not brought into

arts. These we call Mystery-men. “We have three that try new experiments, such as themselves think good. These we call Pioneers or Miners. “We have three that draw the experiments of the former four into titles and tables, to give the better light for the drawing of observations and axioms out of them. These we call Compilers. “We have three that bend themselves, looking into the experiments of their fellows, and cast about how to draw out of them things of use and practice for man’s life and knowledge, as well for works as for plain demonstration of causes, means of natural divinations, and the easy and clear discovery of the

virtues and parts of bodies. These we call Dowry-men or Benefactors.

1. Experiments. 2. Surgery. 3. Species. It was commonly supposed that all hybrids were sterile (see following). 4. The narrator continues to describe the various bakeries, vineyards, breweries, and kitchens

operated by Solomon’s House. He enumerates the medicines discovered there, as well as various experiments with heat. The researchers study light, sound, perfumes, mechanics, mathematics, and all ways of deceiving the senses.

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“Then after divers meetings and consults of our whole number, to con-

sider of the former labors and collections, we have three that take care out

of them to direct new experiments, of a higher light, more penetrating into nature than the former. These we call Lamps. “We have three others that do execute the experiments so directed, and report them. These we call Inoculators. “Lastly, we have three that raise the former discoveries by experiments into greater observations, axioms, and aphorisms. These we call Interpreters of Nature. “We have also, as you must think, novices and apprentices, that the succession of the former employed men do not fail; besides a great number of servants and attendants, men and women. And this we do also: we have consultations, which of the inventions and experiences which we have discovered shall be published, and which not; and take all an oath of secrecy for the concealing of those which we think fit to keep secret; though some of those we do reveal sometimes to the State, and some not.>

“For our ordinances and rites, we have two very long and fair galleries: in one of these we place patterns and samples of all manner of the more rare and excellent inventions; in the other we place the statues of all principal inventors. There we have the statue of your Columbus, that discovered the West Indies; also the inventor of ships; your monk that was the inventor of ordnance and of gunpowder;° the inventor of music; the inventor of letters;

the inventor of printing; the inventor of observations of astronomy; the inventor of works in metal; the inventor of glass; the inventor of silk of the worm;

the inventor of wine; the inventor of corn and bread; the inventor of sugars; and all these by more certain tradition than you have. Then we have divers inventors of our own, of excellent works, which since you have not seen, it were too long to make descriptions of them; and besides, in the right under-

standing of those descriptions you might easily err. For upon every invention of value we erect a statue to the inventor, and give him a liberal and honorable reward. These statues are some of brass, some of marble and touchstone,’ some of cedar and other special woods gilt and adorned; some of iron,

some of silver, some of gold. “We have certain hymns and services, which we say daily, of laud and thanks to God for his marvelous works; and forms of prayer, imploring his

aid and blessing for the illumination of our labors, and the turning of them into good and holy uses. “Lastly, we have circuits or visits of divers principal cities of the kingdom; where, as it cometh to pass, we do publish such new profitable inventions as we think good. And we do also declare natural divinations of diseases, plagues, swarms of hurtful creatures, scarcity, tempests, earthquakes, great inundations, comets, temperature of the year, and divers other things; and

we give counsel thereupon, what the people shall do for the prevention and remedy of them.” And when he had said this he stood up; and I, as | had been taught, kneeled down; and he laid his right hand upon my head, and said, “God bless thee, 5. Bacon allows his scientists considerable autonomy in relation to the state. 6. Tradition credited Roger Bacon, a 13th-century

monk, with the discovery of gunpowder. 7. Ahard basaltic-type rock.

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my son, and God bless this relation which I publish it, for the good of other nations; for land unknown.” And so he left me; having thousand ducats for a bounty to me and my gesses, where they come, upon all occasions.

have made. | give thee leave to we here are in God’s bosom, a assigned a value of about two fellows. For they give great lar-

The rest was not perfected. 1627

WILLIAM

HARVEY

illiam Harvey (1578-1657) received medical training at Cambridge University and then at the University of Padua, a leading center of anatomical research. Returning to England, he established a successful practice, serving as personal physician to King James and Charles as well as to many less exalted clients. After many years of investigation, in 1628 Harvey published a treatise arguing, against the authority of ancient writers, that blood circulated in the body, pumped by the heart. Because Harvey wished to engage a scientific readership not only in England but internationally, he published his treatise in Latin; the selection reproduced here comes from the first English translation, in 1653. Direct observation of the circulation of the blood and of the heart in motion is challenging because, of course, in live bodies the process is concealed, and in dead ones it no longer occurs. Harvey’s vivisection of animals—a skill he would have learned in Padua—allowed him to observe the movement of the heart and arteries in the time between the opening of an animal’s body and its death. Without a microscope, Harvey could not directly observe the capillaries, but he experimented with tourniquets on his own and others’ bodies, which allowed him correctly to hypothesize that tiny vessels must transfer blood from the arteries, which carried the blood away from the heart, to the veins, which returned blood to the heart. The excerpt demonstrates Harvey's lucid, methodical presentation of his observations and hypotheses. His experiments on beating hearts led him to a conclusion directly opposite of the accepted view: while previous writers had believed that the pulse was the effect of the heart dilating, Harvey argues instead that the heart is actively at work, and producing a pulse, when it compresses itself and forces blood into the arteries. While Harvey’s friend and patient Francis Bacon influentially elaborated the theory of science, Harvey actually performed the kind of innovative experiment Bacon was recommending. Harvey's objective, scientific prose constituted a stylistic model different from the rhetorically embellished, self-consciously artful prose of such sixteenth-century writers as Philip Sidney, and different as well from the style of Robert Burton or Sir Thomas Browne, which draws attention to the individual personality of the writer. Harvey’s writings, striving for objectivity and the recording of detailed empirical fact, strongly influenced the founders of the Royal Society in the later seventeenth century.

HARVEY:

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The Flow of Blood. This illustration from William Harvey's On the Circulation of the Blood (1628) depicts one of his experiments. Venal valves had already been discovered, but here Harvey shows that venal blood flows only toward the heart. He ligatured an arm to make obvious the veins and their valves, then pressed blood away from the heart

and showed that the vein would remain empty because blocked by the valve.

The Anatomical Exercises of Dr. William Harvey Professor of Physic, and Physician to the King’s Majesty, Concerning the Motion of the Heart and Blood. 1653 From Chapter 2. What manner of motion the heart has in the dissection of living creatures First then in the hearts of all creatures, being dissected whilst they are yet alive, opening the crest, and cutting up the capsule which immediately environeth the heart, you may observe that the heart moves sometimes, sometimes rests: and that there is a time when it moves, and when it moves not. This is more evident in the hearts of colder creatures, as the toads, serpents,

frogs, house-snails, shrimps, crevises,! and all manner of little fishes. For it shews itself more manifestly in the hearts of hotter bodies, as of dogs, swine,

if you observe attentively till the heart begin to die, and move faintly, and life is as it were departing from it. Then you may clearly and plainly see that the motions of it are more slow and seldom, and the restings of it of a longer continuance: and you may observe and distinguish more easily, what manner of motion it is, and which ways it is made; in the resting of it, as likewise in death, the heart is yielding, flagging weak, and lies as it were drooping. At the motion, and whilst it is moving, three things are chiefly to be observed.

1. That the heart is erected, and that it raises itself upwards into a point, insomuch that it beats the breast at that time, so as the pulsation is felt outwardly. 2. That there is a contraction of it every way, especially of the sides of it, so that it appears lesser, longer, and contracted. The heart of an eel, taken out, and laid upon a trencher,’ or upon one’s hand, doth evidence

1. Crayfish.

2. Plate.

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this; it appears likewise in the hearts of little fishes, and of those colder animals whose hearts are sharp at top, and long. 3. That the heart being grasped in one’s hand whilst it is in motion, feels harder. This hardness arises from tension, like as if one take hold of

the tendons of one’s arm by the elbow whilst they are moving the fingers, shall feel them bent and more resisting.

4. "Tis moreover to be observed in fish, and colder animals which have blood, as serpents, frogs, at that time when the heart moves it becomes

whitish, when it leaveth motion it appears full of sanguine?® color. From hence it seemed to me, that the motion of the heart was a kind

of tension in every part of it, according to the drawing and contraction of the fibers every way; because it appeared that in all its motions, it was

erected,

received

vigor, grew

lesser, and harder,

and

that the

motion of it was like that of the muscles, where the contraction is

made according to the drawing of the nervous parts, and fibers, for the muscles whilst they are in motion and in action, are invigorated and stretched, of soft become hard, they are uplifted and thickened;

so likewise the heart. From which observations with good reason we may gather that the heart at that time whilst it is in motion, suffers constriction, and is thickened in its outside, and so straitened in its ventricles, thrusting

forth the blood contained within it: which from the fourth observation is evident because that in the tension it becomes white, having thrust

out the blood contained within it, and presently after it in relaxation and rest, a purple and crimson color returns to the heart. But of this no man needs to make any further scruple, since upon the inflicting of a wound into the cavity of the ventricle, upon every motion and pulsation of the heart, in the very tension, you shall see the blood within contained to leap out. So then these things happen at one and the same time: the tension of the heart, the erection of the point, and the beating (which is felt outwardly) by reason of its hitting against the breast, the incrassation* of the sides of it, and the forcible protrusion of the blood by constriction of the ventricles. Hence the contrary of the commonly received opinion appears, which is, that the heart at that time when it beats against the breast, and the

pulsation is outwardly felt, it is believed that the ventricles of the heart are dilated, and replete with blood, though you shall understand that it is otherwise, and that when the heart is contracted it is emptied. For that motion which is commonly thought the diastole> of the heart, is really the systole,° and so the proper motion of the heart is not a diastole but a systole, for the heart receives no vigor in the diastole, but in the systole, for then it is extended, moveth, and receiveth vigor.

3. Blood-red. 4. Compression.

5. Expansion. 6. Contraction.

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ROBERT

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BURTON

obert Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy assumes, unlike Bacon, that knowledge of psychology, not science, is humankind’s greatest need. His enormous, baggy, delightful treatise analyzes in encyclopedic detail that ubiquitous Jacobean malady, melancholy, supposedly caused, according to contemporary humor theory, by an excess of black bile. It was responsible, according to Burton and others, for the wild passions and despair of lovers, the agonies and ecstasies of religious devotees, the frenzies of madmen, and the studious abstraction of scholars such as Shakespeare’s Hamlet or Milton’s Il Penseroso. But for Burton melancholy is more than a particular temperament or disease: it encompasses all the folly and madness intrinsic to the fallen human condition and so afflicts the whole world—necessarily including Burton himself. Burton (1577-1640) was a scholar and cleric who lived in Christ Church College, Oxford, all his life: he never married, never traveled, never sought success in the

world, but lived, as he says of himself in his preface, “a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life,” researching his great book in the Bodleian Library and reading omnivyorously in other topics. First published in 1621, the Anatomy went through five editions during the author's life, each one much augmented over the last. In his preface Burton creates a persona for himself, Democritus Junior, who proposes to complete the supposedly lost book on melancholy and madness by the Greek “laughing philosopher” Democritus. As Democritus Junior he promises not only to laugh but also to scoff, satirize, and lament. The title term “anatomy” invites expectations of a clear, logical, ordered treatment of a medical subject after the manner of Vesalius, expectations also evoked by Donne in his Anatomy of the World. Burton’s subtitle promises an analysis of “all the kinds, causes, symptoms, prognostics, and several cures” of melancholy, and a division into three parts—the Causes and Effects, the Cures, and the two principal kinds, Love Melancholy and Religious Melancholy—as well as various “sections, members, and subsections.” But instead of such clarity and rigidity of structure, the categories collapse into each other. Since melancholy is universal, Burton finds warrant to be all-inclusive and digressive, to take us in picaresque disorder from one subject to the next, moving readily from the inner landscape to the world outside. The work contains a utopia, a treatise on climatology, and discourses on geography and meteorology, as well as case studies of various sufferers from melancholy: a man who thought he was glass; a man who thought he was butter; maids, nuns, and widows who suffer sexual deprivation; and so on. Also, Burton cites every authority who wrote about any aspect of melancholy, from classical times,to his present, but in no special order and without privileging even citations from Scripture. Such randomness and their own contradictions undercut the authorities, collapsing them all into the idiosyncratic style of Burton/Democritus Junior. Burton's prose style of long, loose sentences, with their pell-mell momentum as of thoughts rushing beyond the author's control, suggests a disorderly world not at all amenable to Baconian logic and science. Burton concludes by offering the pragmatic advice “Be not idle” as the only remedy against melancholy. His book, were we to read it all, would keep us from idleness for a good long time.

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From The Anatomy! of Melancholy From Love Melancholy PART

3, SECTION

OVER

MEN.

2, MEMBER

LOVE,

OR

I, SUBSECTION

HEROICAL

2: HOW

MELANCHOLY,

LOVE

TYRANNIZETH

HIS DEFINITION,

PART

AFFECTED.

You have heard how this tyrant Love rageth with brute beasts and spirits; now let us consider what passions it causeth amongst men. Improbe amor quid non mortalia pectora cogis,* How it tickles the hearts of mortal men, horresco referens,* | am almost afraid to relate, amazed, and ashamed,

it

hath wrought such stupend and prodigious effects, such foul offences. Love indeed (I may not deny) first united provinces, built cities, and by a perpetual generation makes and preserves mankind, propagates the Church; but if it rage, it is no more love, but burning lust, a disease, frenzy, madness, hell. Est orcus ille, vis est immedicabilis, est rabies insana; ‘tis no virtuous habit this, but a vehement perturbation of the mind, a monster of nature, wit, and art, as Alexis in Athenaeus? sets it out, viriliter audax, muliebriter timidium, furore praeceps, labore infractum, mel felleum, blanda percussio, etc. It subverts kingdoms, overthrows cities, towns, families, mars, corrupts, and

makes a massacre of men; thunder and lightning, wars, fires, plagues, have not done that mischief to mankind, as this burning lust, this brutish pas-

sion. Let Sodom and Gomorrah, Troy (which Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis will make good)’ and I know not how many cities bear record,—et fuit ante Helenam,’ etc., all succeeding ages will subscribe: Joanna of Naples in Italy, Fredegunde and Brunhalt in France,’ all histories are full of these

basilisks.* Besides those daily monomachies,’ murders, effusion of blood,

rapes, riot, and immoderate expense, to satisfy their lusts, beggary, shame, loss, torture, punishment, disgrace, loathsome diseases that proceed from thence, worse than calentures! and pestilent fevers, those often gouts, pox, 1. A logical dissection of a topic into its several parts, on an analogy with a medical anatomy. (See also Donne, An Anatomy ofthe World, pp. 949— 60.) Burton's full title plays wittily with the term while pointing to the massive scope of his work: The Anatomy of Melancholy. What it is, with all the kinds, causes, symptoms, prognostics, & several cures of it. In three Partitions, with their several sections, members, & subsections. Philosophically, medicinally, historically opened & cut up. 2. Depraved love, to what do you not force mortal breasts? 3. Burton immediately translates the Latin into English (“I am almost afraid to relate”) as is his habit throughout The Anatomy of Melancholy. The notes here will provide translations only when Burton does not. 4. Alexis is one of the interlocutors in Athenaeus’s series of dialogues, Deipnosophistae (The Banquet of the Learned) written in the 3rd century C.E., which features dinner conversations on topics that include food, poetry, philology, and sexual mores; the English classicist Isaac Casaubon revived interest in the work by publishing his edition in 1612. 5. In Genesis 18-19, God annihilates the towns Sodom and Gomorrah with a rain of fire and

brimstone to punish their sexual wickedness; the

Greeks destroyed Troy after the Trojan prince Paris eloped with the beautiful Helen, wife of the Greek king Menelaus. Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis were the supposed authors of eyewitness accounts of the Trojan War; the texts, actually dating from late antiquity, were available in Latin and thus became the basis for the medieval knowledge of the Troy legend, in an era when Greek was not widely known in Western Europe. 6. And these were before Helen. 7. Joanna of Naples, 1327-1381, conspired to assassinate her first husband; most of the plotters were ferociously executed, but Joanna was even-

tually acquitted and married three more times. Fredegund

(died

59 c.£.) was

a servant

of the

Frankish king Chilperic, who killed his wife and made Fredegund his consort. Brunhalt or Brunhilda (543-613 c.e.), the sister of Chilperic’s wife and married to Chilperic’s brother, encouraged

her husband to go to war to avenge this murder; years of bloody conflict ensued. 8. Legendary serpent with poisonous breath and lethal gaze. 9. Single combats; duels. 1. Feverish delirium.

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arthritis, palsies, cramps, sciatica, convulsions, aches, combustions, etc., which torment the body, that feral? melancholy which crucifies the soul in this life, and everlastingly torments in the world to come. Notwithstanding they know these and many such miseries, threats, tortures, will surely come upon them, rewards, exhortations, e contra: yet either out of their own

weakness,

a depraved nature, or love’s tyranny,

which so furiously rageth, they suffer themselves to be led like an ox to the slaughter: (Facilis descensus Averni) they go down headlong to their own perdition, they will commit folly with beasts, men “leaving the natural use of women,” as Paul saith, “burned in lust one towards another, and man

with man wrought filthiness.”™

*

ak

*

I come at last to that heroical love which is proper to men and women, is a frequent cause of melancholy, and deserves much rather to be called burning lust, than by such an honorable title. There is an honest love, I confess,

which is natural, laqueus occultus captivans corda hominum, ut a mulieribus non possint separari, “a secret snare to captivate the hearts of men,” as Christopher Fonseca proves,° a strong allurement, of a most attractive, occult, adamantine property, and powerful virtue, and no man living can avoid it. Et qui vim non sensit amoris, aut lapis est, aut bellua. He is not a man but a block, a very stone, aut Numen, aut Nebuchadnezzar,’ he hath a gourd for

his head, a pepon* for his heart, that hath not felt the power of it, and a rare creature to be found, one in an age, qui nunquam visae flagravit amore puellae;? for semel insanivimus omnes, dote we either young or old, as he said,! and none are excepted but Minerva and the Muses: so Cupid in Lucian? complains to his mother Venus, that amongst all the rest his arrows could not pierce them. But this nuptial love is a common passion, an honest, for men to love in the way of marriage; ut materia appetit formam, sic mulier

virum.* You know marriage is honorable, a blessed calling, appointed by God himself in Paradise; it breeds true peace, tranquility, content, and happiness, qua nulla est aut fuit unquam

sanctior conjunctio,

as Daphnaeus

in

Plutarch? could well prove, et quae generi humano immortalitatem parat,° when they live without jarring, scolding, lovingly as they should do. Felices ter et amplius Quos irrupta tenet copula, nec ullis Divulsus querimoniis Suprema citius solvit amor die.° 2. Deadly. 3. On the other hand. 4. In Romans 1.22—27, St. Paul writes that because of the pagans’ idolatrous beliefs God “gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And likewise also the men,

leaving

the

natural

use

of the

woman,

burned in their lust one toward another.” 5. In the omitted section, Burton provides, in Latin, a list of perverse loves as described by Ovid and other classical writers. 6. Quoting from the Spanish writer Christopher Fonseca’s Amphitheater of Love. 7. “Either a god, or Nebuchadenezzar,” i.e., an

extraordinary thing, quoting from the church father Tertullian’s Against Marcion, book 4. 8. Pumpkin. 9. In whom the sight of a girl has never sparked love. 1. Chaucer. 2. Lucian, Dialogue ofthe Gods 19. 3. As matter seeks form, so a man seeks a woman. 4. Daphnaeus in Plutarch’s Dialogue on Love argues for the sanctity of marital love, against Protogenes, who argues that true love is homosexual. 5. And which provides for the perpetuation of humankind. 6. Quoting

Horace,

follows immediately.

Odes

1.13; the translation

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Thrice happy they, and more than that, Whom bond of love so firmly ties, That without brawls till death them part, "Tis undissolv’d and never dies.

As Seneca lived with his Paulina, Abraham

and Sarah, Orpheus and

Eurydice, Arria and Poetus, Artemisia and Mausolus,’ Rubenius Celer, that would needs have it engraven on his tomb, he had led his life with Ennea,

his dear wife, forty-three years eight months, and never fell out. There is no pleasure in this world comparable to it, ’tis swmmum mortalitatis bonum, hominum divumque voluptas, Alma Venus; latet enim in muliere aliquid majus potentiusque, omnibus aliis humanis voluptatibus, as one holds, there’s some-

thing in a woman beyond all human delight; a magnetic virtue, a charming quality, an occult and powerful motive. The husband rules her as head, but

she again commands his heart, he is her servant, she is only joy and content: no happiness is like unto it, no love so great as this of man and wife, no such

comfort as placens uxor, a sweet wife: omnis amor magnus, sed aperto in conjuge major.* When they love at last as fresh as they did at first, charaque charo consenescit conjugi,’ as Homer brings Paris kissing Helen, after they had been married ten years, protesting withal that he loved her as dear as he did the first hour that he was betrothed.' And in their old age, when they make much of one another, saying, as he did to his wife in the poet, Uxor vivamus quod viximus, et moriamur,

Servantes nomen sumpsimus in thalamo;

Nec ferat ulla dies ut commutemur in aevo, Quin tibi sim juvenis, tuque puella mihi.* Dear wife, let’s live in love, and die together,

As hitherto we have in all good will: Let no day change or alter our affections. But let’s be young to one another still. Such should conjugal love be, still the same, and as they are one flesh, so should they be of one mind, as in an aristocratical government, one consent, Geyron-like,* coalescere in unum, have one heart in two bodies, will

and nill the same. A good wife, according to Plutarch,’ should be as a looking-glass to represent her husband's face and passion: if he be pleasant, she should be merry: if he laugh, she should smile: if he look sad, she should

participate of his sorrow, and bear a part with him, and so should they continue in mutual love one towards another.

Et me ab amore tuo deducet nulla senectus,

Sive ego Tythonus, sive ego Nestor ero.°

No age shall part my love from thee, sweet wife, Though I live Nestor or Tithonus’ life. 7. Famously compatible couples from classical history, mythology, and the Bible. 8. Love is always great, but greatest in marriage. 9. Remaining dear to one another as they grow old together. 1. In The Iliad, book 3. 2. The opening lines of the Latin poet Ausoni-

us’s “Epigram 20.” 3. In classical mythology, a monster with one head and three bodies. 4. In his Advice to the Bride and Groom. 5. From the Latin love poet Propertius, Elegies, book 2: 25.

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And she again to him, as the bride saluted the bridegroom of old in Rome, Ubi tu Caius, ego semper Caia, be thou still Caius, I'll be Caia.°®

‘Tis a happy state this’ indeed, when the fountain is blessed (saith Solo-

mon, Proverbs v.18), “and he rejoiceth with the wife of his youth, and she is to

him as the loving hind and pleasant roe,’ and he delights in her continually.” But this love of ours is immoderate, inordinate, and not to be comprehended in any bounds. It will not contain itself within the union of marriage or apply to one object, but is a wandering, extravagant, a domineering, a boundless, an irrefragable,’ a destructive passion; sometimes this burning lust rageth after marriage, and then it is properly called jealousy; sometimes before, and

then it is called heroical melancholy; it extends sometimes to corrivals, etc., begets rapes, incests, murders: Marcus Antoninus compressit Faustinam sororem, Caracalla Juliam novercam, Nero matrem, Caligula sorores, Cinyras Myrrham filiam,' etc. But it is confined within no terms of blood, years, sex, or

whatsoever else. Some furiously rage before they come to discretion or age. Quartilla in Petronius* never remembered she was a maid; and the Wife of Bath in Chaucer cracks, Since I was twelve years old, believe, Husbands at kirk-door had I five.?

Aretine’s Lucretia sold her maidenhead a thousand times before she was twenty-four years old, plus millies vendideram virginitatem, etc., neque te celabo, non deerant qui ut integram ambirent.* Rahab, that harlot, began to be a professed quean at ten years of age, and was but fifteen when she hid the spies, as Hugh Broughton proves, to whom Serrarius the Jesuit, quaest. 6 in cap. 2 Josue, subscribes. Generally women begin pubescere as they call it, or catulire as Julius Pollux cites, lib. 2, cap. 3 Onomast. out of Aristophanes, at fourteen years old, then they do offer themselves, and some

plainly rage. Leo Afer? saith that in Africa a man shall scarce find a maid at fourteen years of age, they are so forward, and many amongst us after they come into the teens do not live without husbands, but linger.° What pranks in this kind the middle age have played is not to be recorded, si mihi sint centum linguae, sint oraque centum,’ no tongue can sufficiently declare, every story is full of men and women’s insatiable lust, Neros, Heliogabali, Bonosi,® etc. Coelius Aufilenum, et Quintius Aufilenam depereunt,? etc. They 6. The ancient Roman marriage vow included these words: “where you (the man, Caius) are, so I (the woman, Caia) will be likewise.”

7. Le., the state of matrimony.

8. The hind is a female and the roebuck (“roe”) a male deer. 9. Not to be questioned. 1. “Marc Antony slept with his sister Faustina,

Caracalla with his stepmother Julia, Nero with his mother, Caligula with his sisters, Cinyras with his daughter Myrrha.” 2. A character in the Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter (Ist century C.E.).

3. Burton cites from memory, and inaccurately. 4. “Nor will I conceal from you that there were those who sought her as though her virginity were intact.” Burton gets this story from Kaspar Barth’s Latin translation of aSpanish adaptation of

Pietro

Aretino’s

1534

logues set in a brothel.

Ragionamenti,

The “quean”

dia-

(whore)

Rahab (following) appears in Joshua 2. Hugh Broughton (below) was a biblical scholar of Burton’s day. 5. Leo Afer, or Africanus, was a 16th-century Spanish Moor who wrote one ofthe first accounts of Africa. Pubescere: mature sexually. Catulire: desire a male. Julius Pollux compiled a dictionary (Onomasticon) that Burton cites frequently. 6. L.e., they waste away if they are not married. 7. “If I had a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths.” 8. Nero and Heliogabalus were sexually depraved Roman emperors, their vices described in lurid detail by Roman historians and moralists. Bono-

sus, a 3rd-century ¢.e. Roman

usurper,

was

merely a drunk, but his close associate Proculus

boasted of having deflowered one hundred virgins in a single night. 9. “Coelius had an itch for Aufilenus, Quintius for Aufilena.” From Catullus, the Roman erotic poet.

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neigh after other men’s wives (as Jeremy, cap. v.8 complaineth) like fed horses, or range like town bulls, raptores virginum et viduarum,' as many of our great ones do. Solomon’s wisdom was extinguished in this fire of lust,

Samson’s strength enervated, piety priesthood in Eli’s sons, reverend Susanna, filial duty in Absalom to towards his sister.2 Human, divine

in Lot’s daughters quite forgot, gravity of old age in the elders that would violate his stepmother, brotherly love in Amnon laws, precepts, exhortations, fear of God

and men, fair, foul means, fame, fortunes, shame, disgrace, honor cannot

oppose, stave off, or withstand the fury of it, omnia vincit amor,’ etc. No cord nor cable can so forcibly draw, or hold so fast, as love can do with a twined thread. The scorching beams under the equinoctial or extremity of cold within the circle Arctic, where the very seas are frozen, cold or torrid

zone cannot avoid or expel this heat, fury, and rage of mortal men. Quo fugis? ah, demens! nulla est fuga, tu licet usque Ad Tanaim fugias, usque sequetur amor.*

Of women’s unnatural, unsatiable lust, what country, what village doth not complain? Mother and daughter sometimes dote on the same man; father and son, master and servant on one woman.

Sed amor, sed ineffrenata libido, Quid castum in terris intentatumque reliquit?? What breach of vows and oaths, fury, dotage, madness might I reckon up! Yet this is more tolerable in youth, and such as are still in their hot blood; but for an old fool to dote, to see an old lecher, what more odious, what can be

more absurd? And yet what so common? Who so furious? Amare ea aetate si occeperint, multo insaniunt acrius.° Some dote then more than ever they did

in their youth. How many decrepit, hoary, harsh, writhen, bursten-bellied, crooked, toothless, bald, blear-eyed, impotent, rotten old men shall you see

flickering still in every place? One gets him a young wife, another a courtesan, and when he can scarce lift his leg over a sill and hath one foot already in Charon’s boat,’ when he hath the trembling in his joints, the gout in his feet, a perpetual rheum in his head, a continuate cough, “his sight fails him, thick of hearing, his breath stinks,”* all his moisture is dried up and gone,

may not spit from him, a very child again, that cannot dress himself or cut his own meat, yet he will be dreaming of and honing after wenches; what can be more unseemly? Worse it is in women than in men; when she is aetate declivis, diu vidua, mater olim, parum decore matrimonium sequi videtur, an old

widow, a mother so long since (in Pliny’s opinion),’ she doth very unseemly

1. “Ravishers of maids and widows” (Jeremiah 5.8). 2. For these biblical stories see 1 Kings 11.3, Judges

16, Genesis

19.30—35,

1 Samuel

2.22,

Daniel 13 (Apocrypha), 2 Samuel 16.22, 13.1—19. 3. “Love conquers all.” 4. “Whither away? ah, madman! there is no escape. Flee to the remotest districts of the river Don, love will still follow.” From Propertius, the Latin elegist. 5. “But love, unbridled passion, leaves nothing on earth untempted, nothing chaste.” From Eurip-

ides, the Greek tragedian. 6. “When they start loving at that age, the madness takes them worse.” From Plautus, the Roman comic dramatist. 7. Charon ferries the souls of the dead across the river Styx.

8. Quoted from Cyprian, 3rd-century bishop of Carthage. 9. Pliny, Natural History 8. The Latin is translated by Burton.

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seek to marry; yet whilst she is so old, a crone, a beldam, she can neither see nor hear, go nor stand, a mere carcass, a witch, and scarce feel, she caterwauls and must have a stallion, a champion, she must and will marry again, and betroth herself to some young man that hates to look on her but for her goods, abhors the sight of her, to the prejudice of her good name, her own undoing, grief of friends, and ruin of her children. But to enlarge or illustrate this power and effects of love is to set a candle in the sun. It rageth with all sorts and conditions of men, yet is most evident among such as are young and lusty, in the flower of their years, nobly descended, high fed, such as live idly and at ease; and for that cause (which our divines call burning lust) this ferinus insanus amor, this mad and beastly passion, as I have said, is named by our physicians heroical love, and a more honorable title put upon it, amor nobilis as Savonarola! styles it, because noble men and women make a common practice of it and are so ordinarily affected with it. Avicenna,? lib. 3, fen. 1, tract. 4, cap. 23, calleth this passion Ilishi and defines it to be “a disease or melancholy vexation or anguish of mind, in which a man continually meditates of the beauty, gesture, manners of his mistress, and troubles himself about it”: “desiring” (as Savonarola adds)

“with all intentions and eagerness of mind to compass or enjoy her; as commonly hunters trouble themselves about their sports, the covetous about their gold and goods, so is he tormented still about his mistress.” Arnoldus Villanovanus? in his book of heroical love defines it “a continual cogitation of that which he desires, with a confidence or hope of compassing it”; which definition his commentator cavils at. For continual cogitation is not the genus but a symptom of love; we continually think of that which we hate and abhor, as well as that which we love; and many things we covet and desire without all hope of attaining. Carolus 4 Lorme in his Questions makes a doubt an amor sit morbus, whether this heroical love be a disease: Julius Pollux, Onomast. lib. 6, cap. 44, determines it. They that are in love are likewise sick; lasci-

vus, salax, lasciviens, et qui in venerem furit, vere est aegrotus.* Arnoldus will have it improperly so called, and a malady rather of the body than mind. Tully,’ in his Tusculans, defines it a furious disease of the mind; Plato, madness itself; Ficinus, his commentator, cap. 12, a species of madness, “for many have run mad for women” (I Esdras iv.26); but Rhasis,° “a melancholy

passion’; and most physicians make it a species or kind of melancholy (as will appear by the symptoms), and treat of it apart; whom I mean to imitate, and to discuss it in all his kinds, to examine his several causes, to show his

symptoms, indications, prognostics, effects, that so it may be with more facility cured. The part affected in the meantime, as Arnoldus supposeth, “is the former part of the head for want of moisture,” which his commentator rejects. Langius, Med. epist. lib. 1, cap. 24, will have this passion sited in the liver,

and to keep residence in the heart, “to proceed first from the eyes so carried 1. Not the Florentine reformer, but his grandfather Michele, a Paduan physician. 2. An encyclopedic Arabian physician of the 11th century. 3. Arnold of Villanova was a Spanish doctor, astrologer, and alchemist of the 13th and early

14th centuries. 4. “One who is lustful, lecherous, lascivious, and mad with desire is really sick.” 5. Le., Cicero. 6. Rhasis, or Rhazes, was an Arab physician of the 10th century.

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by our spirits, and kindled with imagination in the liver and heart”; cogit amare iecur,’ as the saying is. Medium ferit per hepar, as Cupid in Anacreon. For some such cause belike, Homer feigns Titius’ liver (who was enamored

of Latona) to be still gnawed by two vultures day and night in hell, “for that young men’s bowels thus enamored are so continually tormented by love.”® Gordonius, cap. 2, part. 2, “will have the testicles an immediate subject or cause, the liver an antecedent.” Fracastorius agrees in this with Gordonius,’ inde primitus imaginatio venerea, erectio, etc.; titillatissimam partem vocat, ita ut nisi extruso semine gestiens voluptas non cessat, nec assidua veneris recorda-

tio, addit Guastavinius, Comment., 4 sect., prob. 27 Arist.' But properly it is a passion of the brain, as all other melancholy, by reason of corrupt imagination, and so doth Jason Pratensis, cap. 19, De morb. cerebri (who writes copi-

ously of this erotical love), place and reckon it amongst the affections of the brain. Melanchthon, De anima, confutes those that make the liver a part affected, and Guianerius, tract. 15, cap. 13 et 17, though many put all the affections in the heart, refers it to the brain. Ficinus, cap. 7, In Convivium Platonis, “will have the blood to be the part affected.” Jo. Freitagius, cap. 14, Noct. med., supposeth all four affected, heart, liver, brain, blood; but the major part concur upon the brain, ’tis imaginatio laesa,* and both imagina-

tion and reason are misaffected; because of his corrupt judgment and continual meditation of that whichhe desires, he maytrulybe said to be melancholy. If it be violent, or his disease inveterate, as I have determined in the precedent partitions, both imagination and reason are misaffected, first one, then the other. 1621, 1651 7. “The liver compels one to love”; and in the next phrase, “Love strikes through the liver.” Anacreon was a Greek lyric poet. 8. Odyssey 11.

work on communicable diseases, the latter known mostly for his learned commentaries on the dialogues of Plato.

9. Gordonius,

tion, etc.; it so rouses the most excitable part, adds Guastavinius, that until emission takes place, the longing pleasure does not cease, nor the constant recollection of lovemaking.” 2. A wounded imagination.

Guastavinius,

Jason

Pratensis,

Guianerius, Freitagius, et al. (see following) are

Renaissance physicians from the ragbag of Burton’s encyclopedic reading. Two who stand out are Girolamo Fracastoro and Marsilio Ficino— the former a physician still remembered for his

SIR THOMAS

1. “Whence at first come erotic imaginings, erec-

BROWNE

ir Thomas Browne (1605-1682) presents his best-known work, Religio Medici (A Doctor’s Religion), as “the true Anatomy of myself.” This work is not, as we

might expect from the title, a spiritual autobiography relating, like many in the period, an angst-filled story of conversion or an account of providential experiences. Nor does Browne report the facts of his life: that he was born into the family of a

cloth merchant, attended Winchester School and Pembroke College, Oxford, studied at the best medical schools (Montpelier, Padua, Leiden), practiced medicine in Yorkshire and Norwich, married in 1641, and fathered twelve children. Instead,

this work is an exercise in delighted self-analysis, outlining Browne’s own sometimes

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eccentric views on a wide variety of topics pertaining to religious doctrine and practice.

For this purpose

Browne

constructs

an engaging

persona:

the genial,

speculative doctor who finds nothing human foreign to him and so is the very personification of charity and inclusiveness: he can readily participate in the customs

of others in food, drink, or religion (even in certain Roman Catholic practices) but

yet value his own. In this two-part treatise divided into short numbered paragraphs, Browne voices his fondness for Anglo-Catholic ritual but also his belief in Calvinist predestination; he denounces religious persecution but thinks many religious martyrs not particularly admirable; he believes in witches but is skeptical of latter-day miracles. His love of mystery and wonder (in sharp contrast to Bacon) leads him to revel in metaphor and take positive joy in accepting things contrary to reason: “I love to lose myself in a mystery, to pursue my reason to an O altitudo!” According to his preface, he wrote the work around 1636 for himself only and circulated it in manuscript to a few friends but then was forced by a pirated edition (1642) to print a correct version (1643). Yet his decision to publish just as the king and Parliament took to the battlefield in the civil war was hardly fortuitous, and the treatise has political resonance. Describing himself as one who sympathizes with and has himself held several erroneous or heretical views, Browne disparages dogmatism and holds up to gentle irony those who claim exclusive possession of the path to salvation. At the same time, he deplores schism and is ready to conform his mind to the teachings and practices of the Church of England. His self-analysis comments on the wider world of church and state, posing his example of tolerant inclusiveness against reforming Puritans eager to rid the church of its errors. Browne was a favorite prose stylist of many later writers, among them Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Charles Lamb, Thomas De Quincey, and Herman Melville: polysyllabic and Latinate, his prose mixes wit and sumptuous rhetoric, often rising to a resonant poetry.

From Religio Medici! From Part | 1. For my religion, though there be several circumstances that might persuade the world I have none at all—as the general scandal of my profession,* the natural course of my studies, the indifferency’ of my behavior and discourse in matters of religion, neither violently defending one, nor with that common ardor and contention opposing another—yet in despite hereof Idare without usurpation assume the honorable style of a Christian. Not that I merely owe this title to the font,* my education, or clime wherein I was born, as being bred up either to confirm those principles my parents instilled into my unwary understanding, or by a general consent proceed in the religion of my country; but having in my riper years and confirmed judgment seen and examined all, | find myself obliged by the principles of grace

1. The Religion of a Doctor. Browne avoids any conflict between science and religion by a forthright “fideism’—entirely separating reason from faith and thereby exempting faith from any critique by reason, or any support from it. This was also the stance of some contemporary Roman

Catholic skeptics, notably Montaigne and Pierre Charron. rare 2. Doctors were popularly reputed to be irreligious or atheistic. 3. Impartiality. 4. The baptismal font.

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and the law of mine own reason to embrace no other name but this. Neither doth herein my zeal so far make me forget the general charity I owe unto humanity, as rather to hate than pity Turks, infidels, and (what is worse) Jews;’

rather contenting myself to enjoy that happy style than maligning those who refuse so glorious a title.

2. But because the name of a Christian is become too general to express our faith—there being a geography of religions as well as lands, and every clime distinguished not only by their laws and limits, but circumscribed by their doctrines and rules of faith—to be particular, | am of that reformed newcast religion wherein I mislike nothing but the name;° of the same belief our Savior taught, the apostles disseminated, the Fathers authorized, and the

martyrs confirmed; but by the sinister ends of princes, the ambition and avarice of prelates, and the fatal corruption of times, so decayed, impaired, and fallen from its native beauty that it required the careful and charitable hands of these times to restore it to its primitive integrity. Now the accidental occasion whereon, the slender means whereby, the low and abject condition of the person by whom so good a work was set on foot,’ which in our adversaries beget contempt and scorn, fills me with wonder, and is the very same objection the insolent pagans first cast at Christ and his disciples. 3. Yet have I not so shaken hands with those desperate resolutions—who had rather venture at large their decayed bottom’ than bring her in to be new trimmed in the dock, who had rather promiscuously retain all than abridge any, and obstinately be what they are than what they have been— as to stand in diameter’ and sword’s point with them. We have reformed from them, not against them; for, omitting those improperations and terms

of scurrility betwixt us, which only difference! our affections and not our cause, there is between

us one common

name

and appellation, one faith

and necessary body of principles common to us both; and therefore I am not scrupulous to converse and live with them, to enter their churches in defect of ours, and either pray with them or for them. I could never perceive any rational consequence from those many texts which prohibit the children of Israel to pollute themselves with the temples of the heathens; we being all Christians, and not divided by such detested impieties as might profane our prayers or the place wherein we make them; or that a resolved conscience may not adore her Maker anywhere, especially in places devoted to his service; where, if their devotions offend him, mine may please him, if theirs profane it, mine may hallow it. Holy water and crucifix, dangerous to the

common people, deceive not my judgment nor abuse my devotion at all. am, I confess, naturally inclined to that which misguided zeal terms superstition. My common conversation I do acknowledge austere, my behavior full of rigor, sometimes not without morosity; yet at my devotion I love to use the civility of my knee, my hat, and hand, with all those outward and sen5. Browne thought them worse because they had been given a better chance than the others to know and< accept Christianity. 6. Protestantism, for its connotations of contentiousness. 7. Luther, who was a miner’s son, began the Ref-

8. The leaky ship of the Roman Catholic Church. “Shaken hands with”: parted from. 9. In complete opposition. 1. Differentiate. “Improperations”: reproaches. 2. He defines himself here and in the next few lines against Puritan iconocl:asts who would uproot

ormation,

all such‘‘superstitions.’

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sible motions which may express or promote my invisible devotion. I should violate my own arm rather than a church, nor willingly deface the memory of saint or martyr. At the sight of a cross or crucifix I can dispense with my hat, but scarce with the thought and memory of my Savior. | cannot laugh at, but rather pity, the fruitless journeys of pilgrims, or contemn the miserable condition of friars; for though misplaced in circumstance, there is somewhat in it of devotion. I could never hear the Ave-Maria bell without an elevation,’ or think it a sufficient warrant, because they erred in one circum-

stance, for me to err in all—that is, in silence and dumb contempt. Whilst, therefore, they directed their devotions to her, | offered mine to God, and rectified the errors of their prayers by rightly ordering mine own. At a solemn procession I have wept abundantly while my consorts,* blind with opposition and prejudice, have fallen into an excess of scorn and laughter. There are questionless, both in Greek, Roman, and African churches, solemnities

and ceremonies whereof the wiser zeals do make a Christian use; and stand condemned by us, not as evil in themselves, but as allurements and baits of superstition to those vulgar heads that look asquint on the face of truth, and those unstable judgments that cannot consist® in the narrow point and center of virtue without a reel or stagger to the circumference. 4. As there were many reformers, so likewise many reformations; every country proceeding in a particular way and method, according as their national interest together with their constitution and clime inclined them: some angrily and with extremity, others calmly and with mediocrity,® not rending but easily dividing the community, and leaving an honest possibility of a reconciliation; which, though peaceable spirits do desire, and may conceive that revolution of time and the mercies of God may effect, yet that judgment that shall consider the present antipathies between the two extremes, their contrarieties in condition, affection, and opinion, may with the same hopes expect an union in the poles of heaven.

5. But—to difference myself nearer, and draw into a lesser circle—there is no church whose every part so squares unto my conscience, whose articles, constitutions,

and customs

seem

so consonant

unto reason,

and as it were

framed to my particular devotion, as this whereof I hold my belief: the Church of England, to whose faith I am a sworn subject, and therefore in a double obligation subscribe unto her articles and endeavor to observe her constitutions. Whatsoever is beyond, as points indifferent, | observe accord-

ing to the rules of my private reason or the humor and fashion of my devotion; neither believing this because Luther affirmed it nor disapproving that because Calvin hath disavouched it. | condemn not all things in the council of Trent nor approve all in the synod of Dort.’ In brief, where the Scripture is silent, the church is my text; where that speaks, ‘tis but my comment; where there is a joint silence of both, | borrow not the rules of my religion from Rome or Geneva,* but the dictates of my own reason. It is an unjust 3. Exaltation of mind. “Ave-Maria bell”; Angelus, rung daily at 6:00 and 12:00, morning and night. 4. Companions. 5. Stand firm. “Asquint”: cross-eyed. 6. Moderation. “Extremity”: violence. 7. The Council of Trent (1545-63),

in Italy,

defined Catholic dogma after the Reformation; the Council of Dort (1618-19), in Holland, defined Calvinist doctrine. 8. Rome was the center of Catholicism; Geneva was a Calvinist city-state.

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scandal of our adversaries and a gross error in ourselves to compute the nativity of our religion from Henry the Eighth, who, though he rejected the Pope, refused not the faith of Rome, and effected no more than what his own predecessors desired and essayed in ages past, and was conceived the state of Venice would have attempted in our days.” It is as uncharitable a point in us to fall upon those popular scurrilities and opprobrious scoffs of the bishop of Rome, to whom as a temporal prince we owe the duty of good language. I confess there is cause of passion between us. By his sentence

I stand excommuni-

cated: “heretic” is the best language he affords me; yet can no ear witness I ever returned to him the name of “antichrist,” “man of sin,” or “whore of Babylon.” It is the method of charity to suffer without reaction. Those usual satires and invectives of the pulpit may perchance produce a good effect on the vulgar, whose ears are opener to rhetoric than logic; yet do they in no wise confirm the faith of wiser believers, who know that a good cause needs not to

be patroned by a passion, but can sustain itself upon a temperate dispute.

6. | could never divide myself from any man upon the difference of an opinion, or be angry with his judgment for not agreeing with me in that from which perhaps within a few days I should dissent myself. I have no genius to disputes in religion, and have often thought it wisdom to decline them, especially upon a disadvantage, or when the cause of truth might suffer in the weakness of my patronage. Where we desire to be informed, ’tis good to contest with men above ourselves; but to confirm and establish our opinions, ‘tis best to argue with judgments below our own, that the frequent spoils and victories over their reasons may settle in ourselves an esteem and confirmed opinion of our own. Every man is not a proper champion for truth, nor fit to take up the gauntlet in the cause of verity. Many, from the ignorance of these maxims and an inconsiderate zeal unto truth, have too rashly charged the troops of error, and remain as trophies unto the enemies of truth. A man may be in as just possession of truth as of a city, and yet be forced to surrender. "Tis therefore far better to enjoy her with peace than to hazard her on a battle. If therefore there rise any doubts in my way, I do forget them or at least defer them till my better settled judgment and more manly reason be able to resolve them; for I perceive every man’s own reason is his best Oedipus,” and will upon a reasonable truce find a way to loose those bonds wherewith the subtleties of error have enchained our more flexible and tender judgments. In philosophy, where truth seems double-faced, there is no man more paradoxical than myself, but in divinity I love to keep the road; and, though not in an implicit, yet an humble faith, follow the great wheel of the church, by which I move, not reserving any proper poles or motion from the epicycle of my own brain.* By this means I leave no gap for heresies, schisms, or errors, of which at present I hope I shall not injure truth to say I have no taint or tincture. | must confess my greener studies have been polluted with two or three—not any begotten in the latter centuries, but old and obsolete, such as could never have been revived but by such extravagant 9. Though he repudiated the pope, Henry VIII was

for long an ambiguous

Protestant.

Venice

was excommunicated in 1606 for challenging papal authority. 1. Stock terms of anti-Catholic abuse. 2. Solver of riddles, as Oedipus solved that of

the Sphinx. 3. In Ptolemaic

astronomy,

an

“epicycle”

is a

small circle centered on the largest circle of a planet’s orbit, hypothesized to account for inexplicable variations in the planet’s motion.

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and irregular heads as mine. For indeed heresies perish not with their authors, but like the river Arethusa, though they lose their currents in one

place, they rise up again in another.* One general council is not able to extirpate one singular heresy. It may be canceled for the present, but revolution of time and the like aspects from heaven will restore it, when it will flourish till it be condemned again; for as though there were a metempsychosis, and the soul of one man passed into another, opinions do find after certain revolutions men and minds like those that first begat them. To see ourselves again we need not look for Plato’s year.* Every man is not only himself; there have been many Diogenes and as many Timons,° though but few of that name. Men are lived over again; the world is now as it was in ages past. There was none then but there hath been someone since that parallels him, and is as it were his revived self.

9. As for those wingy mysteries in divinity and airy subtleties in religion, which have unhinged the brains of better heads, they never stretched the pia mater’ of mine. Methinks there be not impossibilities enough in religion for an active faith. The deepest mysteries ours contains have not only been illustrated but maintained by syllogism and the rule of reason. I love to lose myself in a mystery, to pursue my reason to an O altitudo!® Tis my solitary recreation to pose my apprehension with those involved enigmas and riddles of the Trinity, with Incarnation and Resurrection. I can answer all the objec-

tions of Satan and my rebellious reason with that odd resolution I learned of Tertullian, Certum est quia impossibile est.° | desire to exercise my faith in the difficultest points, for to credit ordinary and visible objects is not faith but persuasion. Some believe the better for seeing Christ his sepulcher, and when they have seen the Red Sea doubt not of the miracle. Now, contrarily, I bless

myself and am thankful that I lived not in the days of miracles, that I never saw Christ nor his disciples. I would not have been one of those Israelites that passed the Red Sea, nor one of Christ’s patients on whom he wrought his wonders: then had my faith been thrust upon me, nor should I enjoy that greater blessing pronounced to all that believe and saw not. "Tis an easy and necessary belief to credit what our eye and sense hath examined. I believe he was dead, buried, and rose again; and desire to see him in his glory rather than to contemplate him in his cenotaph or sepulcher. Nor is this much to believe. As we have reason, we owe this faith unto history; they only had the advantage of a bold and noble faith who lived before his coming, who upon obscure prophecies and mystical types! could raise a belief and expect apparent impossibilities.

4. In myth, when the nymph Arethusa, in Greece, was pursued by the river god Alpheus, she dived into the sea and came up again in Sicily as a foun-

refer to the brain itself.

noted misanthrope, both Greek.

8. From Romans 11.33: “O the depth [Latin Vulgate, altitudo] of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” The Latin term can also mean “heights.” 9. Tertullian commenting on the Resurrection: “It is certain because it is impossible.” 1. Foreshadowings of Christ in the Old Testa-

7.

ment.

tain.

5. Browne’s note certain thousand return unto their 6. Diogenes was

on this reads: “A revolution of years, when all things should former estate.” a Cynic philosopher, Timon a

Amembrane covering the brain, often used to

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15. * * * I could never content my contemplation with those general pieces of wonder, the flux and reflux of the sea, the increase of Nile, the conversion of the needle to the north; and have studied to match and parallel those in the more obvious and neglected pieces of nature, which without further travel I can do in the cosmography of we seek without us: there is all Africa bold and adventurous piece of nature a compendium what others labor at in

myself. We carry with us the wonders and her prodigies in us. We are that which he that studies wisely learns in a divided piece and endless volume.

16. Thus are there two books from whence I collect my divinity: besides that written one of God, another of his servant nature, that universal and public manuscript that lies expansed unto the eyes of all. Those that never saw him in the one have discovered him in the other. This was the scripture and theology of the heathens: the natural motion of the sun made them more admire him than its supernatural station* did the children of Israel; the ordinary effects of nature wrought more admiration in them than in the other all his miracles. Surely the heathens knew better how to join and read these mystical letters than we Christians, who cast a more careless eye on these common hieroglyphics, and disdain to suck divinity from the flowers of nature. Nor do I so forget God as to adore the name of nature; which I define not, with the schools, the principle of motion and rest, but that straight and regular line, that settled and constant course the wisdom of God hath ordained the actions of his creatures according to their several kinds. To make a revolution every day is the nature of the sun, because that necessary course which God hath ordained it, from which it cannot swerve but by a faculty* from that voice which first did give it motion. Now this course of nature God seldom alters or perverts, but like an excellent artist hath so contrived his work that with the selfsame instrument,

without a

new creation, he may effect his obscurest designs. Thus he sweetened the water with a wood;? preserved the creatures in the Ark, which the blast of his mouth might have as easily created: for God is like a skillful geometrician, who when more easily and with one stroke of his compass he might describe or divide a right line, had yet rather do this in a circle or longer way according to the constituted and forelaid principles of his art. Yet this rule of his he doth sometimes pervert, to acquaint the world with his prerogative, lest the arrogancy of our reason should question his power and

conclude he could not. And thus I call the effects of nature the works of

God, whose hand and instrument she only is; and therefore to ascribe his actions unto her is to devolve the honor of the principal agent upon the instrument: which if with reason we may do, then let our hammers rise up and boast they have built our houses, and our pens receive the honor of our writings. I hold there is a general beauty in the works of God, and therefore no deformity in any kind or species of creature whatsoever. I cannot tell by what logic we call a toad, a bear, or an elephant ugly; they being created in those outward shapes and figures which best express the actions of their inward forms, and having passed that general visitation of God, who saw 2. Marvels.

3. Standing

(Joshua

4. Authority.

still, as at the battle of Gibeon

10.13).

5. Exodus

15.25 tells how the Lord sweetened

the bitter waters of Marah with a special tree,

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that all that he had made was good®—that is, conformable to his will, which abhors deformity and is the rule of order and beauty. There is therefore no deformity but in monstrosity; wherein notwithstanding there is a kind of beauty, nature so ingeniously contriving the irregular parts as they become sometimes more remarkable than the principal fabric. To speak yet more narrowly, there was never anything ugly or misshapen but the chaos; wherein notwithstanding (to speak strictly) there was no deformity because no form, nor was it yet impregnate by the voice of God. Now, nature is not at variance with art nor art with nature, they both being the servants of his providence: art is the perfection of nature. Were the world now as it was the sixth day, there were yet a chaos: nature hath made one world and art another. In brief, all things are artificial, for nature is the art of God. 34. These’ are certainly the magisterial and masterpieces of the Creator; the flower or (as we may say) the best part of nothing; actually existing what we are but in hopes and probability. We are only that amphibious piece between a corporal and spiritual essence; that middle form that links those two together, and makes good the method of God and nature, that jumps not from extremes but unites the incompatible distances by some middle and participating natures. That we are the breath and similitude of God it is indisputable and upon record of holy Scripture; but to call ourselves a microcosm or little world | thought it only a pleasant trope of rhetoric® till my nearer judgment and second thoughts told me there was a real truth therein. For first we are a rude mass and in the rank of creatures which only are and have a dull kind of being not yet privileged with life or preferred to sense or reason. Next we live the life of plants, the life of animals, the life of men, and

at last the life of spirits; running on, in one mysterious nature, those five kinds of existences which comprehend the creatures not only of the world but of the universe. Thus is man that great and true amphibium whose nature is disposed to live not only like other creatures in divers elements but in divided and distinguished worlds. For though there be but one world to sense, there are two to reason; the one visible, the other invisible, whereof Moses seems

to have left no description, and of the other? so obscurely that some parts thereof are yet in controversy: and truly for the first chapters of Genesis I must confess a great deal of obscurity. Though divines have, to the power of human reason, endeavored to make all go in a literal meaning, yet those allegorical interpretations are also probable, and perhaps the mystical method of Moses bred up in the hieroglyphical schools of the Egyptians!

59. Again, I am confident and fully persuaded, yet dare not take my oath of my salvation. I am as it were sure, and do believe without all doubt, that there is such a city as Constantinople; yet for me to take my oath thereon were a kind of perjury, because I hold no infallible warrant from my own sense to 6. 7. 8. 9.

Genesis 1.31. The angels.

1. Some Neoplatonists thought that Moses, reared among the Egyptians, understood their

Figure of speech.

hieroglyphic symbolism and imitated it in his own

The visible world. Moses was supposed to have

writing.

been the author of Genesis.

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confirm me in the certainty thereof. And truly, though many pretend an absolute certainty of their salvation, yet when an humble soul shall contemplate her own unworthiness she shall meet with many doubts and suddenly find how little we stand in need of the precept of St. Paul, Work out your salvation with fear and trembling.* That which is the cause of my election I hold to be the cause of my salvation, which was the mercy and beneplacit* of God before I was or the foundation of the world. Before Abraham was, I am, is the saying of Christ;* yet is it true in some sense if I say it of myself, for | was not only before myself but Adam, that is, in the idea of God and the decree of that synod held from all eternity. And in this sense, I say, the world was before the creation and at an end before it had a beginning; and thus was I dead before I was alive. Though my grave be England, my dying place was Paradise, and Eve miscarried of me before she conceived of Cain. aS

4K

38

From Part 2

1. Now for that other virtue of charity,’ without which faith is mere notion, and of no existence, I have ever endeavored to nourish the merciful disposition and humane inclination | borrowed from my parents, and regulate it to the written and prescribed laws of charity; and if I hold the true anatomy of myself,° I am delineated and naturally framed to such a piece of virtue. For I am of a constitution so general that it comforts and sympathizeth with all things; I have no antipathy, or rather idiosyncrasy, in diet, humor, air, anything. | wonder not at the French for their dishes of frogs, snails, and toad-

stools, nor at the Jews for locusts and grasshoppers; but being amongst them, make them my common viands, and I find they agree with my stomach as well as theirs. | could digest a salad gathered in a churchyard as well as in a garden. I cannot start at the presence of a serpent, scorpion, lizard, or salamander, at the sight of a toad or viper I find in me no desire to take up a stone to destroy them. I feel not in myself those common antipathies that I can discover in others: those national repugnances do not touch me, nor do I behold with prejudice the French, Italian, Spaniard, or Dutch; but where I find their

actions in balance with my countrymen’s, I honor, love and embrace them in the same degree. | was born in the eighth climate,’ but seem for to be framed and constellated unto all. | am no plant that will not prosper out of a garden. All places, all airs make unto me one country; | am in England everywhere and under any meridian. | have been shipwrecked,* yet am not enemy with the sea or winds; I can study, play, or sleep in a tempest. In brief, I am averse from nothing; my conscience would give me the lie if Ishould say I absolutely detest or hate any essence but the devil, or so at least abhor anything but that we might come to composition.’ If there be any among those common objects of hatred I do contemn and laugh at, it is that great enemy of reason, virtue, 2. Philippians 2.12. “Election” (following): chosen by God for salvation.

ton, The Anatomy of Melancholy (pp. 1240—46), for the way this term is used. “Delineated” (fol-

3. Good pleasure.

lowing): designed.

4. John 8.58. 5. Like many theological manuals, Browne's first book concerns faith, the second charity. 6. If |have properly analyzed myself. See Donne, An Anatomy ofthe World (pp. 949-60), and Bur-

7. In the eighth of the twenty-four regions between the equator and the poles. — 8. Browne was shipwrecked returning to England from freland in 1630. 9. Reach an agreement.

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and religion, the multitude—that numerous piece of monstrosity which, taken asunder, seem men and the reasonable creatures of God, but confused

together make but one great beast, and a monstrosity more prodigious than Hydra.! It is no breach of charity to call these fools; it is the style all holy writers have afforded them, set down by Solomon in canonical Scripture? and a point of our faith to believe so. Neither in the name of multitude do I only include the base and minor sort of people; there is a rabble even amongst the gentry, a sort of plebeian heads whose fancy moves with the same wheel as these; men in the same level with mechanics, though their fortunes do somewhat gild their infirmities, and their purses compound for their follies. But as in casting account, three or four men together come short in account of one man placed by himself below them, so neither are a troop of these ignorant dorados* of that true esteem and value as many a forlorn person whose condition doth place him below their feet. Let us speak like politicians, there is a nobility without heraldry, a natural dignity whereby one man is ranked with another, another filed before him, according to the quality of his desert, and preeminence of his good parts. Though the corruption of these times and the bias of present practice wheel another way, thus it was in the first and primitive commonwealths, and is yet in the integrity and cradle of wellordered polities, till corruption getteth ground, ruder desires laboring after that which wiser considerations contemn, everyone having a liberty to amass and heap up riches, and they a license or faculty to do or purchase anything. 1642 (pirated) 1643 (authorized) 1. In Greek mythology, a nine-headed serpent that grew two heads for every one that was cut

off.

2. E.g., Proverbs 1.7: “fools despise wisdom and instruction,” 3. With the growing rebelliousness of the Puri-

GEORGE

tan merchants and even some of the aristocracy as his point of reference, Browne redefines the

rabble in terms of attitude and moral worth, not

class. 4, Wealthy persons.

HERBERT

1593-1633

eorge Herbert’s style in his volume of religious poetry, The Temple, is decep“tively simple and graceful, especially compared to the learned, witty style of his friend John Donne. But it is also marked by self-irony, a remarkable intellectual and emotional range, and an artistry evident in the poems’ tight construction, exact diction, perfect control of tone, and enormously varied stanzaic forms and rhythmic patterns. These poems reflect Herbert’s struggle to define his relationship to God through biblical metaphors invested with the tensions of relationships familiar in his own society: king and subject, lord and courtier, master and servant, father and child, bridegroom and bride, friends of unequal status. None of Herbert’s secular English poems survives, so his reputation rests on this single volume, published

posthumously. The Temple contains a long prefatory poem, “The Church-Porch,”

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and a long concluding poem, “Church Militant,” which together enclose a collection of 177 short lyrics entitled The Church, among which are sonnets, songs, hymns, laments, meditative poems, dialogue poems, acrostic poems, emblematic poems, and

more. Herbert’s own description of the collection is apt: “a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed between God and my soul.” Izaak Walton reports that Herbert gave the manuscript to his friend Nicholas Farrar, head of a quasi-monastic community at Little Gidding, with instructions to publish it if he thought it would “turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul” and otherwise to burn it. Fortunately, Farrar chose to publish, and The Temple became the major influence on the religious lyric poets of the Caroline age: Henry Vaughan, Richard Crashaw, Thomas Traherne, and even Edward Taylor, the American colonial poet. The fifth son of an eminent Welsh family, Herbert (and his nine siblings) had an

upbringing carefully monitored by his mother, Magdalen Herbert, patron and friend of Donne and several other scholars and poets. Herbert was educated at Westminster School and at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he subsequently held a fellowship and wrote Latin poetry: elegies on the death of Prince Henry (1612), witty epigrams, poems on Christ’s Passion and death, and poems defending the rites of the English church. In 1620 he was appointed “public orator,” the official spokesman and correspondent for the university. This was a step toward a career at court or in public service, as was his election as the member of Parliament from Montgomery in 1624. But that route was closed off by the death of influential patrons and the change of monarchs. Like Donne, Herbert hesitated for some years before being ordained, but in

1630 he took up pastoral duties in the small country parish at Bemerton in Wiltshire. Whereas Donne preached to monarchs and statesmen, Herbert ministered to a few cottagers, and none of his sermons survive. His small book on the duties of his new life, A Priest to the Temple; or, The Country Parson, testifies to the earnestness and

joy, but also to the aristocratic uneasiness, with which he embraced that role. In chronic bad health, he lived only three more years—performing pastoral duties assiduously, writing and revising his poems, playing music, and listening to the organ and choir at nearby Salisbury Cathedral. Herbert locates himself in the church through many poems that treat church liturgy, architecture, and art—e.g., “Church Monuments” and “The Windows’—but his primary emphasis is always on the soul’s inner architecture. Unlike Donne, Herbert does not voice fears

about his salvation or about his desperate

sins;

his

anxieties

center

rather on his relationship with Christ, most often represented as that of friend with friend. Many poems register the speaker's distress over the vacillations and regressions in this relationship, over his lack of “fruition” in God’s service, and over

George Herbert. This engraving by Robert

the instability of his own nature. In

White was made from a portrait, now lost, painted during Herbert’s lifetime and showing

several dialogic poems the speaker's difficulties are alleviated by the voice

the poet in clerical garb. It was published in Isaak Walton’s Life of George Herbert (1674).

of a divine friend heard within or recalled through a Scripture text (as

HEA

ARS

4)

12597,

in “The Collar”). In poem after poem he has to come to terms with the fact that his relationship with Christ is always radically unequal, that Christ must both initiate it and enable his own response. Herbert struggles constantly with the paradox that, as the works of a Christian poet, his poems ought to give fit praise to God but cannot possibly do so—an issue explored in “The Altar,” the two “Jordan” poems, “Easter,” “The Forerunners,” and many more. His recourse is to develop a biblical poetics that renounces conventional poetic styles—‘“fiction and false hair’—to depend instead on God’s “art” wrought in his own soul and displayed in the language and symbolism of the Bible. He makes scant use of Donnean learned imagery, but his scriptural allusions carry profound significanc es. A biblical metaphor provides the unifying motif for the volume: the New Testament temple in the human heart (1 Corinthians 3.16). Another recurring biblical metaphor

represents the Christian as plant or tree or flower in God’s garden, needing pruning, rain, and nurture. Herbert was profoundly influenced by the genre of the emblem, which typically associated mysterious but meaningful pictures and mottoes with explanatory text. Shaped poems like “The Altar” or “Easter Wings” present image and picture at once; others, like “The Windows,” resemble emblem commentary.

Other

poems allude to typological symbolism, which reads persons and events in the Old Testament as types or foreshadowings of Christ, the fulfillment or antitype. Often, as in “The Bunch of Grapes,” Herbert locates both type and antitype in the speaker's soul.

From THE TEMPLE!

The Altar? A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant Made of a heart, and cemented with

rears, tears:

5

Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workman’s tool hath touched the same. A HEART alone

10

As nothing but Thy power doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart

Is

such

a_

stone,

Meets in this frame,

is

To praise thy Name: That, if I chance to hold my_ peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease.‘ Oh let thy blessed sacriFice be mine, And sanctify this ALTAR to. be thine.

1. The title of Herbert's volume sets his poems in relation to David’s psalms for the Temple at Jerusalem; his are “psalms” for the New Testa-

ment temple in the heart. All of the following poems come from this volume, published in 1633.

2. A variety of emblem poem. Emblems customarily have three parts: a picture, a motto, and a poem. This kind collapses picture and poem into one, presenting the emblem image by its very shape. Shaped poems have been used by authors

from Hellenistic times to Dylan Thomas. 3. A reference to Exodus 20.25, in which the Lord enjoins Moses to build an altar of uncut stones, not touched by any tool, and also to Psalm 51.17: “a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” 4. A reference to Luke 19.40: “I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.” Herbert's poems obtain much of their resonance from their biblical echoes.

1258

|

GEORGE

HERBERT

Redemption! Having been tenant long to a rich lord, Not thriving, I resolvéd to be bold, And make a suit unto him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancel th’ old.?

s

In heaven at his manor I him sought: They told me there that he was lately gone About some land which he had dearly bought Long since on earth, to take possession. I straight® returned, and knowing his great birth, Sought him accordingly in great resorts—

10

at once

In cities, theaters, gardens, parks, and courts:

At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of thieves and murderers; there I him espied,

Who straight, “Your suit is granted,” said, and died.

Easter!

vi

10

15

Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him may'’st rise; That, as his death calcinéd® thee to dust, burned to powder His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art. The cross taught all wood to resound his name Who bore the same. His stretchéd sinews taught all strings what key Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Consort, both heart and lute, and twist? a song Pleasant and long; Or, since all music is but three parts vied? And multiplied,

Oh let thy blesséd spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art.

1. Literally, “buying back.” In this beautifully concise sonnet Herbert figures God as a landlord, himself as a discontented tenant.

2. l.e., to ask him for a new lease, with a smaller rent;

the figure points

supplanting the Old.

to the New

Testament

1. The first three stanzas work out the poetics of writing hymns; then comes the hymn itself. 2. Weave. “Consort”: harmonize.

3. Increased by repetition. Harmony is based on the triad, the chord.

EASTER WINGS

|

1259

The Song I got me flowers to straw® thy way,4 I got me boughs off many a tree; But thou wast up by break of day And brought’st thy sweets along with thee.

20

strew

The sun arising in the east, Though he give light and th’ east perfume, If they should offer to contest With thy arising, they presume.

2

Can there be any day but this, Though many suns to shine endeavor? We count three hundred, but we miss:°

30

misunderstand

There is but one, and that one ever.

Easter Wings! Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,°

abundance

Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more Till he became 5

Most poor:

With thee O let me _ rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories: Then shall the fall further the flight in me.?

0

My

15

tender age in sorrow did _ begin: And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sin, That I became Most thin.

With thee Let me

20

4. Evokes the scene of Christ's entry into Jerusalem (Matthew 21.8).

1. Another emblem poem whose shape presents the emblem

combine,

And feel this day thy victory; For, if I imp* my wing on thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

picture;

the lines, increasing

and

decreasing, imitate flight, and also the spiritual experience of falling and rising. Early editions

printed the poem with the lines running vertically, making the wing shape more apparent. 2. Refers to the “Fortunate Fall,” which brought humankind so great a redeemer. 3. In falconry, to insert feathers in a bird’s wing.

1260

|

GEORGE

HERBERT

Affliction (1)! When first thou didst entice to thee my heart,

s

I thought the service brave:° So many joys I writ down for my part, Besides what I might have Out of my stock of natural delights, Augmented with thy gracious benefits.

splendid

I lookéd on thy furniture so fine, And made it fine to me;

Thy glorious household stuff did me entwine, 10

And ’tice® me unto thee. Such stars I counted mine: both heaven and earth Paid me my wages in a world of mirth.

entice

What pleasures could I want,° whose king I served,

is

20

At first thou gav’st me milk and sweetnesses; I had my wish and way: My days were strawed® with flowers and happiness; There was no month but May. But with my years sorrow did twist and grow, And made a party unawares°

for woe.

2,

My flesh began unto® my soul in pain,

30

Sicknesses cleave® my bones; Consuming agues° dwell in every vein, And tune my breath to groans. Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believed, Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived.

35

lack

Where joys my fellows were? Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved No place for grief or fear; Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place, And made her youth and fierceness seek thy face.

strewn

unwittingly

started complaining to

penetrate fevers with convulsions

When I got health, thou took’st away my life, And more; for my friends die: My mirth and edge was lost: a blunted knife Was of more use than I. ‘Thus thin and lean without a fence or friend, I was blown through with every storm and wind.

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town, Thou didst betray me to a lingering book, 40

And wrap me in a gown.

priest's garb

1. Herbert sometimes used the same title for several poems, thereby associating them; editors distinguish them by adding numbers.

PRAYER

(1)

1261

I was entangled in the world of strife, Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise, Not simpering all mine age, Thou often didst with academic praise Melt and dissolve my rage. I took thy sweetened pill, till | came where I could not go away, nor persevere. Yet lest perchance I should too happy be In my unhappiness, Turning my purge® to food, thou throwest me laxative Into more sicknesses. Thus doth thy power cross-bias me,? not making turn me from my aim Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. v7 vw

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me

None of my books will show: I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree, For sure then I should grow To fruit or shade; at least, some bird would trust 60

Her household to me, and I should be just. Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek; In weakness must be stout.

Well, I will change the service, and go seek Some other master out.

Ah, my dear God! though I am clean forgot, Let me not love thee, if Ilove thee not.

Prayer (1)! Prayer, the church’s banquet; angels’ age, God’s breath in man returning to his birth; The soul in paraphrase,’ heart in pilgrimage; The Christian plummet,’ sounding heaven and earth; Engine against th’ Almighty, sinner’s tower, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six-days’ world transposing* in an hour; A kind of tune which all things hear and fear:

Softness and peace and joy and love and bliss; Exalted manna,’ gladness of the best; 1. This extraordinary sonnet is a series of epithets without a main verb, defining prayer by

of water.

metaphor. 2. Clarifying by expansion.

4. A musical term indicating sounds produced at another pitch from the original. 5. The food God supplied to the Israelites in the

3. A weight used to measure (“sound”) the depth

wilderness.

1262

GEORGE

|

HERBERT

Heaven in ordinary,® man well dressed,

The milky way, the bird of paradise, Church bells beyond the stars heard, the soul’s blood,

The land of spices; something understood.

Jordan (1)! Who says that fictions only and false hair Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty? Is all good structure in a winding stair? May no lines pass, except they do their duty° Not to a true, but painted chair??

pay reverence

Is it no verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbors shadow coarse-spun lines?? Must purling® streams refresh a lover's loves?

rippling

Must all be veiled,* while he that reads, divines,

Catching the sense at two removes? Shepherds? are honest people: let them sing; Riddle who list,° for me, and pull for prime:° I envy no man’s nightingale or spring;

wishes

Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, Who plainly say, My God, My King.’

Church Monuments! While that my soul repairs to her devotion, Here | entomb my flesh, that it betimes® May take acquaintance of this heap of dust wi

while time remains

To which the blast of death’s incessant motion, Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,

Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust My body to this school, that it may learn To spell his elements and find his birth Written in dusty heraldry and lines®

6. L.e., everyday heaven. 1. The river Jordan, which the Israelites crossed

to enter the Promised Land, was also taken as a symbol for baptism. 2. It was the custom for men to bow before a throne, whether it was occupied or not (see Donne, “Satire 3,” lines 47—48, p. 946), but to require bowing before a throne in a painting would be ridiculous. 3. “Sudden,” i.e., that appear unexpectedly (an

engraving, genealogy

artificial effect much sought after in landscape gardening). “Shadow”: shade. 4. As in allegory. 5. Conventional pastoral poets.

6. To draw a lucky card in the game of primero. “For me”: as far as | am concerned. 7. Echoes Psalm 145.1: “my God, O king.”

1. The earlier, manuscript version of the poem does not divide it into stanzas.

DENIAL

10

|

1263

Which dissolution sure doth best discern, Comparing dust with dust and earth with earth.2 These laugh at jet and marble,’ put for signs To sever the good fellowship of dust And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them4 When they shall bow and kneel and fall down flat To kiss those heaps which now they have in trust? Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem

15

And true descent, that, when thou shalt grow fat

And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayest know That flesh is but the glass? which holds the dust

20

hourglass

That measures all our time, which also shall Be crumbled into dust. Mark here below How tame these ashes are, how free from lust,

That thou mayest fit thyself against thy fall.

The Windows! Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word? He is a brittle, crazy° glass,

wv

flawed, distorting

Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window through thy grace. But when thou dost anneal in glass? thy story, Making thy life to shine within The holy preachers, then the light and glory

10

More reverend grows, and more doth win, Which else shows wat’rish, bleak, and thin. Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one

When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe; but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing, 15

And in the ear, not conscience, ring.

Denial When my devotions could not pierce Thy silent ears, 2. Alludes to Genesis 3.19: “for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” 3. Jet (black basalt) and marble are used for tomb monuments. “These”: i.e., dust and earth. 4. The inhabitants of the tombs. 1. From his little parish at Bemerton, Herbert

used to walk twice a week across Salisbury Plain to the great cathedral, where he delighted not only in the music but in the stained-glass windows. This poem explores how the preacher himself may become such a window. 2. To burn colors into glass.

1264

|

GEORGE

HERBERT

Then was my heart broken, as was my verse; My breast was full of fears And disorder;!

va

10

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow, Did fly asunder: Each took his way; some would to pleasures go, Some to the wars and thunder Of alarms.

15

As good go anywhere, they say, As to benumb Both knees and heart in crying night and day, Come, come, my God, O come! But no hearing.

20

O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue To cry to thee, And then not hear it crying! All day long My heart was in my knee, But no hearing.

Therefore my soul lay out of sight, Untuned, unstrung;

25

My feeble spirit, unable to look right, Like a nipped® blossom, hung Discontented.

30

O cheer and tune my heartless breast; Defer no time, That so thy favors granting my request, They and my mind may chime,° And mend my rhyme.

frostbitten

ring together, agree

Virtue Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,

The bridal of the earth and sky: The dew shall weep thy fall tonight, For thou must die. 5

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,! Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye: Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.

1, Unrhymed, as are the concluding lines of each stanza except the last.

1. Splendid. “Angry”: having the hue of anger, red.

MAN

10

15

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets® compacted lie; My music shows ye have your closes,” And all must die.

PACS)

perfumes

Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.

Man My God, I heard this day

That none doth build a stately habitation, But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is man? to! whose creation

All things are in decay. For man is every thing And more; he is a tree, yet bears more? fruit;

A beast, yet is or should be more; Reason and speech we only bring.’ Parrots may thank us, if they are not mute: They go upon the score.*

Man is all symmetry, Full of proportions, one limb to another, And all to all the world besides;>

Each part may call the farthest, brother; For head with foot hath private amity, And both with moons and tides.

Nothing hath got so far But man hath caught and kept it as his prey. His eyes dismount? the highest star: He is in little all the sphere.° Herbs gladly cure our flesh; because that they Find their acquaintance there.

bring down to earth the universe

For us the winds do blow, The earth doth rest, heav’n move, and fountains flow;

Nothing we see but means our good,

2. Concluding cadences

in music. This poem

tual nature; he is the only creature that speaks

has often been set to music.

and reasons.

3. Will be reduced to a cinder at the Last Judg1. Compared to.

4. Parrots are indebted to us for speech. 5. The notion of man as microcosm, whose parts all correspond to features of the great world.

2. A textual variant is “no.”

Cf. Donne, Holy Sonnet

3. Man has a vegetable, an animal, and a spiri-

Religio Medici, p. 1247.

ment.

5, p. 961, and Browne,

1266

|

GEORGE

HERBERT

As our delight, or as our treasure. The whole is either our cupboard of food, Or cabinet of pleasure.

30

The stars have us to bed; Night draws the curtain which the sun withdraws, Music and light attend our head. All things unto our flesh are kind® In their descent and being; to our mind In their ascent and cause.

akin

Each thing is full of duty. Waters united are our navigation, Distinguished,° our habitation; Below, our drink; above, our meat;°

40

separated

Both are our cleanliness. Hath one such beauty? Then how are all things neat! More servants wait on man Than he'll take notice of; in every path, He treads down that’ which doth befriend him,

45

When sickness makes him pale and wan. O mighty love! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him. Since then, my God, thou hast

So brave® a palace built, O, dwell in it, That it may dwell with thee at last!

splendid

Till then, afford us so much wit, That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee,

And both thy servants be.

Jordan (2)!

wi

When first my lines of heavenly joys made mention, Such was their luster, they did so excel, That I sought out quaint words and trim invention; My thoughts began to burnish,° sprout, and swell, Curling with metaphors a plain intention, Decking the sense, as if it were to sell.°

Thousands of notions in my brain did run, Offering their service, if I were not sped:°

burgeon for sale

supplied, satisfied

I often blotted what I had begun; 10

This was not quick® enough, and that was dead.

6. Oceans are valuable for navigation; the earth was created by dividing waters from waters (Genesis 1.6—7); on earth water is drink; from above it

provides rain to grow our food (“meat”).

lively

7. The herb that will cure him when he’s sick. 1. Cf. “Jordan (1)” (p. 1262), and Sidney, Astrophil and Siella | (p. 586).

Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sun, Much less those joys which trample on his head. As flames do work and wind when they ascend, So did I weave myself into the sense; But while I bustled, I might hear a friend

Whisper, “How wide? is all this long pretense! There is in love a sweetness ready penned: Copy out only that, and save expense.”

Time

Meeting with Time, “Slack thing,” said I,! “Thy scythe is dull; whet it for shame.” “No marvel, sir,” he did reply,

“If it at length deserve some blame; But where one man would have me grind it,

Twenty for one too sharp do find it.”

“Perhaps some such of old did pass, Who above all things loved this life; To whom thy scythe a hatchet was, Which now is but a pruning knife. Christ’s coming hath made man thy debtor, Since by thy cutting he grows better. “And in his blessing thou art blessed, For where thou only wert before An executioner at best, Thou art a gardener now, and more, An usher to convey our souls Beyond the utmost stars and poles. “And this is that makes life so long, While it detains us from our God. Ev’n pleasures here increase the wrong, And length of days lengthens the rod.° Who wants? the place where God doth dwell Partakes already half of hell. is)nn

used for blows lacks

“Of what strange length must that needs be,

Which ev’n eternity excludes!”— Thus far Time heard me patiently, Then chafing said, “This man deludes: What do I here before his door? 30

2. are 3. 1.

He doth not crave less time, but more.”

The “joys which trample on” the sun’s head heavenly joys (line 1).

Time. 2. A hatchet kills; a pruning knife improves grow-

Irrelevant, wide of the mark. Herbert’s speaker reports his dialogue with

ing things.

1268

|

GEORGE

HERBERT

The Bunch of Grapes! Joy, I did lock thee up;° but some bad man

hold you fast

Hath let thee out again, And now methinks I am where I began va

Sev’n years ago: one vogue? and vein, One air of thoughts usurps my brain.

tendency

I did towards Canaan draw, but now I am

Brought back to the Red Sea, the sea of shame.’ For as the Jews of old by God’s command Traveled, and saw no town,

10

So now each Christian hath his journeys spanned; Their story pens and sets us down. 3 A single deed is small renown. God’s works are wide, and let in future times; His ancient justice overflows our crimes.

is.

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds; Our Scripture-dew® drops fast; We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrouds;°

20

ine)an

manna

temporary shelters

Alas! our murmurings come not last. But where’s the cluster? where’s the taste Of mine inheritance? Lord, if Imust borrow, Let me as well take up their joy as sorrow.

But can he want? the grape who hath the wine? I have their fruit and more. Blessed be God, who prospered Noah's vinet* And made it bring forth grapes good store. But much more him I must adore Who of the Law’s sour juice’ sweet wine did make, Even God himself being presséd for my sake.

lack

The Pilgrimage I traveled on, seeing the hill where lay My expectation. A long it was and weary way. The gloomy cave of desperation 1. When the children of Israel almost lost hope in the wilderness, God inspired Moses to send

forth scouts, who returned to report that Canaan was a land of milk and honey. They brought back a bunch of grapes so big they had to carry it between them on a pole (Numbers 13.23). 2. The Red Sea’s color suggests blushing for shame. Because the Israelites complained about their long ordeal in the wilderness after leaving Egypt, God drove them back toward the Red Sea.

3. The wandering of the Israelites in the wilderness toward the land of Canaan was taken to be a type (prefiguration) of the Christian’s trials on the path of salvation. “Spanned”: measured out. 4. Noah's vine (Genesis 9) was taken as a type of the earth replenished by God after the Flood. 5. The severe rules of the Old Testament as contrasted with the sweeter and more liberal covenant of the New Testament, which Christ’s crucifixion established.

THE

vi

HOLDFAST

|

1269

I left on th’ one, and on the other side

The rock of pride.! And so I came to fancy’s meadow, strowed® With many a flower; 10

strewn

Fain® would I here have made abode,

gladly

But I was quickened by my hour.2 So to care’s copse® I came, and there got through _ thicket oftrees With much ado.

15

20

te wa

That led me to the wild of passion, which Some call the wold°—

A wasted place but Here I was robbed Save one good angel,’ which Close to my

treeless plain, moor

sometimes rich. of all my gold a friend had tied side.

At length I got unto the gladsome hill Where lay my hope, Where lay my heart; and, climbing still, When I had gained the brow and top, A lake of brackish waters on the ground Was all I found.

With that abashed, and struck with many a sting Of swarming fears, I fell, and cried, “Alas, my king!

30

Can both the way and end be tears?” Yet taking heart I rose, and then perceived I was deceived:

My hill was further; so I flung away, Yet heard a cry, 35

Just as I went: None goes that way And lives: “If that be all,” said I, “After so foul a journey, death is fair,

And but a chair.”

The Holdfast! I threatened to observe Of my dear God with But I was told by one, Yet I might trust in God 1. The rock and cave allude to Scylla and Charybdis, perils faced by Odysseus and often allegorized. The spiritual pilgrimage through allegorical perils was a frequent literary motif: cf. Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress and Vaughan’s “Regeneration” (pp. 1278-80). 2. Short span of life. 3. A golden coin as well as (punningly) a guardian angel.

the strict decree all my power and might. it could not be; to be my light. 4. “Chair” implies rest and relaxation but also a conveyance (a sedan chair).

1. Alludes to Psalm 73.27 in the Book of Common Prayer: “It is good for me to hold me fast by God.” The poem dramatizes the entire reliance on grace—and the abnegation of any human capacity to cooperate with it or claim any merit—that was a cornerstone of Calvinist theology.

1270

|

GEORGE

5

HERBERT

Then will I trust, said I, in him alone. Nay, ev’n to trust in him, was also his;

We must confess, that nothing is our own. Then I confess that he my succor is. But to have naught is ours, not to confess

10

That we have naught. I stood amazed at this, Much troubled, till I heard a friend express,

That all things were more ours by being his. What Adam had, and forfeited for all, Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall.

The Collar! I struck the board? and cried, “No more;

5

I will abroad! What? Shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free, free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store. Shall I be still in suit?? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore

10

1s

What I have lost with cordial® fruit? restorative Sure there was wine Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn® Before my tears did drown it. Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bays? to crown it, No flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted? All wasted?

to the heart

grain

Not so, my heart; but there is fruit,

20

And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not. Forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands, Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable,’ to enforce and draw,

25

And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away! Take heed; I will abroad.

1. The emblematic title suggests a clerical collar that has become a slave's collar; also, punningly,

the speaker’s choler (anger) and, perhaps, the caller that he at last hears. 2. Table, with an allusion to the Communion table. 3. Always in attendance, waiting on someone for

a favor. 4. The poet’s laurel wreath, a symbol of recognized accomplishment. 5. Christian restrictions on behavior, which the

“petty thoughts” of the docile believer have made into strong bonds.

THE

30

35

FLOWER

|

476)

Call in thy death’s-head° there; tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load.” But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild At every word, Methoughts I heard one calling, Child!’

And I replied, My Lord.

The Pulley! When God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by, “Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can: vi

Let the world’s riches, which disperséd lie, Contract into a span.”

So strength first made a way;

10

Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure. When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure, Rest® in the bottom lay.

repose

“For if Ishould,” said He, “Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;

15

So both should losers be.

“Yet let him keep the rest,? But keep them with repining restlessness: Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

20

May toss him to my breast.”

The Flower How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean

Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring, To which, besides their own demesne,°

domain, demeanor

The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.

6. Skull, emblem of human mortality, and often

1. The poem inverts the legend of Pandora’s box,

used as an object for meditation. 7. The call “Child!” reminds the speaker

which released all manner of evils when opened but left Hope trapped inside.

Paul’s words (Romans

8.14—17)

of

that Christians

are not in “bondage again to fear” but are children of God, “and if children, then heirs.”

2. “Rest” has two senses here: “remainder” and

“repose.”

1272

|

GEORGE

VI

10

HERBERT

Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing.

Who would have thought my shriveled heart Could have recovered greenness? It was gone Quite underground; as flowers depart To see their mother-root, when they have blown,°

bloomed

Where they together All the hard weather,

Dead to the world, keep house unknown. 15

These are thy wonders, Lord of power, Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell And up to heaven in an hour, Making a chiming of a passing-bell.! We say amiss

20

2

30

This or that is: Thy word is all, if we could spell.°

read

O that I once past changing were, Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither! Many a spring | shoot up fair, Offering® at heaven, growing and groaning thither; aiming Nor doth my flower Want a spring shower,° tears of contrition My sins and Ijoining together. But while I grow in a straight line, Still upwards bent,° as if heaven were mine own, Thy anger comes, and I decline: What frost to that? What pole is not the zone Where all things burn,

directed

When thou dost turn,

35

40

And the least frown of thine is shown?? And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell] the dew and rain, And relish versing. O my only light, It cannot be That I am he On whom thy tempests fell all night. These are thy wonders, Lord of love,

45

To make us see we are but flowers that glide;? Which when we once can find and prove,°

1, The “passing-bell,” intended to mark the death of a parishioner, is tolled in a monotone; a “chiming” bell offers pleasant variety.

slip silently away experience

2. I.e., compared with God’s wrath, what polar chill would not seem like the heat of the equator?

THE

FORERUNNERS

|

W273

Thou hast a garden for us where to bide; Who would be more, Swelling through store, Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

The Forerunners

ui

The harbingers are come: see, see their mark; White is their color,' and behold my head. But must they have my brain? Must they dispark° Those sparkling notions which therein were bred? Must dullness turn me to a clod? Yet have they left me “Thou art still my God.”

turn out

Good men ye be to leave me my best room, Even all my heart and what is lodgéd there: I pass not,° I, what of the rest become,

care not

So “Thou art still my God” be out of fear. He will be pleaséd with that ditty; And if I please Him, I write fine and witty.

Farewell, sweet phrases, lovely metaphors: But will ye leave me thus? When ye before Of stews® and brothels only knew the doors,

whorehouses

Then did I wash you with my tears, and more, Brought you to church well-dressed and clad: My God must have my best, even all I had.

Lovely enchanting language, sugarcane, Honey of roses, whither wilt thou fly? Hath some fond lover ’ticed® thee to thy bane?° And wilt thou leave the church and love a sty? Fie! thou wilt soil thy ’broidered coat, And hurt thyself and him that sings the note.

enticed / poison

Let foolish lovers, if they will love dung, With canvas, not with arras,° clothe their shame: Let Folly speak in her own native tongue.

fine cloth

True Beauty dwells on high; ours is a flame

But borrowed thence to light us thither: Beauty and beauteous words should go together. Yet, if you go, I pass not;° take your way. For “Thou art still my God” is all that ye

I don’t care

Perhaps with more embellishment can say. 1. Harbingers rode ahead of a royal traveling party to requisition lodgings, marking the doors with chalk.

2. Echoes Psalm 31.14: “But I trusted in thee, O Lord: I said, Thou art my God.”

1274

|

GEORGE

35

HERBERT

Go, birds of spring; let winter have his fee;° Let a bleak paleness chalk the door, So all within be livelier than before.

due

Discipline Throw away thy rod, Throw away thy wrath: O my God,

Take the gentle path. vw

For my heart’s desire Unto thine is bent: I aspire To a full consent.

Not a word or look 10

~Laffect® to own,

wish, pretend

But by book,!

And thy book alone.

Though I fail, I weep: Though I halt° in pace, 15

limp

Yet I creep

To the throne of grace. Then let wrath remove; Love will do the deed: For with love

20

Stony hearts will bleed. Love is swift of foot; Love’s a man of war,’ And can shoot, And can hit from far.

23

30

Who can ’scape his bow? That which wrought on thee, Brought thee low, Needs must work on me.

Throw away thy rod; Though man frailties hath, Thou art God: Throw away thy wrath.

1. Le., like an actor who follows his playbook. 2. The jubilant song sung by Moses in Exodus

15 calls the Lord “a man of war,” but Herbert also alludes to Cupid, another divine archer.

POW iE aG32)

|

W275

Death Death, thou wast once an uncouth, hideous thing, Nothing but bones,

The sad effect of sadder groans: Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. wi

For we considered thee as at some six

Or ten years hence, After the loss of life and sense, Flesh being turned to dust and bones to sticks.

10

15

20

We looked on this side of thee, shooting short, Where we did find The shells of fledge-souls left behind— Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.! But since our Savior’s death did put some blood Into thy face, Thou art grown fair and full of grace, Much in request, much sought for as a good. For we do now behold thee gay and glad As at doomsday, When souls shall wear their new array, And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad.

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Half that we have Unto an honest faithful grave, Making our pillows either down or dust.

Love (3) Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack° From my first entrance in, 5

hesitant

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning

If Ilacked anything! “A guest,” I answered, “worthy to be here”: Love said, “You shall be he.” “I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,

1. Souls that have left the body and gone to heaven are like fledgling chicks that have left the shell behind; that corpse (“dry dust”) sheds no

vivors. 1. The first question of tavern waiters to an entering customer would be “What d’ye lack?”

tears but may draw (“extort”) tears from the sur-

(i.e., want).

| PIAS)

|

10

HENRY

VAUGHAN

I cannot look on thee.” Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, “Who made the eyes but I?”

“Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.” is

“And know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”

“My dear, then I will serve.” “You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”

So I did sit and eat.? 2. In addition to the sacrament of Communion, the reference is especially to the banquet in heaven, when the Lord “shall gird himself, and

make them to sit down to meat, and will come forth and serve them” (Luke 12.37).

HENRY VAUGHAN 1621-1695

orn to a family with deep roots in Wales, Henry Vaughan was educated at Oxford and the Inns of Court but returned to his native county of Breconshire at the outbreak of the civil war and spent the rest of his life there. He served as secretary to the Welsh circuit courts until 1645; briefly fought for King Charles at Chester, just over the border with England; and in his later years took up the practice of medicine without much formal study. In a volume of verse published in 1651, Olor Iscanus (The Swan of Usk), he drew attention to his heritage by terming himself “the Silurist”: the Silures were an ancient tribe from southeast Wales. Some features of Vaughan’s poetry derive from the rich Welsh-language poetic tradition: the frequency of assonance, consonance,

and alliteration; the multiplication of comparisons

and similes

(dyfalu); and the sensitivity to nature, especially the countryside around the Usk River. Some of Vaughan’s poetry is secular—Poems with the Tenth Satire of Juvenal, Englished (1646), Olor Iscanus (1651), and a late-published collection of earlier

verse, Thalia Rediviva (1678). Vaughan’s modern reputation, though, rests almost entirely on his religious poetry. In 1650 Vaughan published his major collection of religious verse, Silex Scintillans (The Flashing Flint); it was republished in 1655

with a second book added. A conversion experience may have prompted Vaughan’s turn to religious themes: the title of the book is explicated by the emblem of a flintlike heart struck by a bolt of lightning from the hand of God. In the preface to Silex Scintillans Vaughan places himself among the many “pious converts” gained by George Herbert's holy life and verse. While his secular poetry recalls Ben Jonson’s, the religious poetry overtly models itself on Herbert’s. Some twenty-six poems appropriate their titles from The Temple, several owe their metrical form to Herbert, and many begin by quoting one of Herbert’s lines (compare Vaughan’s “Unprofitableness” with Herbert's “The Flower”). Yet no one with an ear for poetry will mistake Vaughan’s long, loose poetic lines for Herbert's artful precision. Vaughan’s religious sensibility too differs markedly from Herbert’s. Unable to locate himself in a national Church of England, now dismantled by war, he wanders unaccompanied through a landscape at once biblical, emblematic, and contemporary,

A

SONG

TO

AMORET

|

eT

mourning lost innocence. One unifying motif of the poems in Silex Scintillans is pilgrimage, though the arrival at the destination is typically deferred. Vaughan seems unable to experience Christ as a friend or supporter in present trials, as Herbert so often does; instead, he longs for a full relationship with the divine yet to come, at the Last Day. Despite his restless solitude, however, Vaughan finds vestiges of the divine everywhere. “I saw eternity the other night,” he begins his most famous poem, “The World,” situating the “ring of pure and endless light” in a specific, quotidian moment of illumination. Eternity hovers tantalizingly over the human world of strife, pain, and exploitation, apparently entirely detached from that world but in fact accessible to God’s elect, who soar from earthly shadows into the light. Vaughan’s twin brother, Thomas, introduced him to Hermetic philosophy, an esoteric brand of Neoplatonism that found occult correspondences between the visible world of matter and the invisible world of spirits. The influence of this philosophical system, so congenial to Vaughan’s sensibility, is most apparent in the poem “Cock Crowing.”

From PoEMS

A Song to Amoret! If I were dead, and in my place,

Some fresher youth designed, To warm thee with new fires, and grace Those arms I left behind; wn

Were he as faithful as the sun, That’s wedded to the sphere;?

His blood as chaste, and temperate run, As April's mildest tear;

10

Or were he rich, and with his heaps, And spacious share of Earth, Could make divine affection cheap, And court? his golden birth:

pay court to

For all these arts I’Id not believe,

is

(No though he should be thine) The mighty amorist° could give So rich a heart as mine.

lover

Fortune and beauty thou mightst find,

And greater men than I: But my true resolved mind,

20

They never shall come nigh.

1. This poem comes from Vaughan’s first collection, all on worldly themes and many on

Queene 3, and the variation on it in his sonnet

love. Amoret has sometimes been identified with

2. In the Ptolemaic scheme, each of the planets (including the sun, which was regarded as a planet) occupied one of the spheres revolving around the earth.

Vaughan’s first wife, but on no secure ground. Amoret (formed from amor, love) is a traditional

name for a poet’s beloved from classical literature; note

Spenser's

use of the name

in Faerie

sequence Amoretti.

1278

|

HENRY

VAUGHAN

For I not for an hour did love,

Or for a day desire, But with my soul had from above, This endless holy fire. 1646

FROM SILEX SCINTILLANS

Regeneration! A ward, and still in bonds,” one day I stole abroad;

It was high spring, and all the way Primrosed? and hung with shade; wn

Yet was it frost within,

And surly winds Blasted my infant buds, and sin Like clouds eclipsed my mind. Stormed thus, I straight perceived my spring 10

Mere stage and show, My walk a monstrous, mountained thing,

Roughcast with rocks and snow; And as a pilgrim’s eye, Far from relief,

1s

20

Measures the melancholy sky, Then drops and rains for grief, So sighed I upwards still; at last "Twixt steps and falls I reached the pinnacle, where placed I found a pair of scales; I took them up and laid In th’ one, late pains;

The other smoke and pleasures weighed, But proved the heavier grains.* 25

With that, some cried, “Away!” Straight? I Obeyed, and led

immediately

Full east, a fair, fresh field could spy;

Some called it Jacob’s bed,’ 1. The poem allegorizes in rather precise Calvinist terms the experience of God’s grace calling the elect and distinguishing between the regenerate and the unregenerate. 2. He begins as one in the Pauline “spirit of bondage” to fear because of sin and as one still

in his minority (“wardship”) under the Old Testament law. This contrasts with the “spirit of adoption” whereby we are children of God: “And if children then heirs; heirs of God and jointheirs with Christ” (Romans 8.14—17).

3. Alluding to the adage that the “primrose path” leads to perdition. 4. He climbs Mount Sinai (tries to live by the Old Testament law) but finds his sins and follies

far outweigh that effort. 5. Jacob slept in an open field, where he had a vision of a ladder leading to heaven (Genesis 28.11—19); that place, Bethel, was taken as a type

or figure for the church. Vaughan’s poem “Jacobs Pillow, and Pillar” works out this allegory.

REGENERATION

30

|

L279

A virgin soil which no Rude feet ere trod, Where, since he stepped there, only go Prophets and friends of God.

Here | reposed; but scarce well set, A grove descried°® Of stately height, whose branches met And mixed on every side;

perceived

I entered, and once in, Amazed to see ’t, 40

Found all was changed, and a new spring® Did all my senses greet. The unthrift sun shot vital gold, A thousand pieces, And heaven its azure did unfold, Checkered with snowy fleeces;

The air was all in spice, And every bush A garland wore; thus fed my eyes,

But all the ear lay hush.°

quiet

Only a little fountain’ lent Some use for ears,

And on the dumb shades language spent

55

The music of her tears; I drew her near, and found The cistern full Of divers stones, some bright and round,

Others ill-shaped and dull.® The first, pray mark, as quick as light Danced through the flood; But the last, more heavy than the night, 60

Nailed to the center stood. I wondered much, but tired

At last with thought, My restless eye that still desired As strange an object brought: It was a bank of flowers, where I descried,

Though ’twas midday, Some fast asleep, others broad-eyed And taking in the ray; Here musing long, I heard 6. Imagery in the following lines—spring, perfumes, flowers—alludes to the Song of Solomon in which the bride is traditionally allegorized as the church or the beloved soul. 7. In the Song of Solomon 4.15 the “fountain of waters, a well of living waters” was traditionally

allegorized as Christ. 8. Alludes

to 1 Peter 2.5, which

refers to the

faithful as “lively stones.” The different sorts of stones and flowers here suggest the elect and the reprobate.

1280

|

HENRY

VAUGHAN

A rushing wind Which still increased, but whence it stirred Nowhere I could not find.

70

I turned me round, and to each shade Dispatched an eye To see if any leaf had made Least motion or reply; But while I listening sought My mind to ease By knowing where ‘twas, or where not, It whispered, “Where I please.”

80

“Lord,” then said I, “on me one breath,

And let me die before my death!” “Arise O North, and come thou South wind,

and blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.”!

85

1650

The Retreat Happy those early days! when I Shined in my angel infancy. Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race,! Or taught my soul to fancy aught° But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walked above A mile or two from my first love,

anything

And looking back, at that short space, 10

Could see a glimpse of His bright face; When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity; Before | taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense A several® sin to every sense, But felt through all this fleshly dress Bright shoots of everlastingness.

9. John 3.8: “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou

hearest the sound

thereof, but canst

not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth, so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” 1. Vaughan identifies this verse as Canticles (Song of Solomon) 5.17; it is properly 4.16.

different

1. The poem alludes throughout to the Platonic doctrine of preexistence, in conjunction with Christ’s words (Mark 10.15): “Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.” Comparisons are often made to Wordsworth’s Immortality ode.

SILENCE,

tN vi

30

AND

STEALTH

OF

DAYS!

O, how I long to travel back, And tread again that ancient track! That I might once more reach that plain Where first I left my glorious train, From whence th’ enlightened spirit sees That shady city of palm trees.” But, ah! my soul with too much stay? Is drunk, and staggers in the way. Some men a forward motion love; But I by backward steps would move, And when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return.

1281

delay

1650

Silence, and Stealth of Days!

vi

10

20

to wt

Silence, and stealth of days! ’tis now Since thou art gone! Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow? But clouds hang on. As he that in some cave’s thick damp, Locked from the light, Fixeth a solitary lamp To brave the night, And walking from his sun, when past That glimmering ray, Cuts through the heavy mists in haste Back to his day,? So o'er fled minutes I retreat Unto that hour Which showed thee last, but did defeat Thy light and power; I search and rack my soul to see Those beams again, But nothing but the snuff? to me Appeareth plain, That dark and dead sleeps in its known And common urn; But those? fled to their maker’s throne, There shine and burn. O could I track them! but souls must Track one the other, And now the spirit, not the dust,

2. The New Jerusalem, the Heavenly City (for its identification with Jericho, the “city of Palm Trees,” Deuteronomy 34.3). 1. As indicated in lines 27-28, the poem is on the loss of Vaughan’s brother—not his twin brother, Thomas, the Hermetic philosopher, who did not die until 1666, but his younger brother, William,

who died in July 1648. 2. Mountain ridge, or forehead. 3. The miner fixes his lamp halfway down the dark shaft, ventures a little beyond it, but then beats a hasty retreat. 4. The burned wick of the lamp or candle. 5. The reference is back to “beams.”

1282

|

HENRY

30

VAUGHAN

Must be thy brother. Yet I have one pearl,° by whose light All things I see, And in the heart of earth and night,

Find heaven and thee.

1648

1650

Corruption Sure it was so. Man in those early days Was not all stone and earth;

He shined a little, and by those weak rays Had some glimpse of his birth. 5s

10

wi)

He saw heaven o’er his head, and knew from whence He came, condemned, hither; And, as first love draws strongest, so from hence

His mind sure progressed thither. Things here were strange unto him: sweat and till, All was a thorn or weed:! Nor did those last, but (like himself) died still As soon as they did seed. They seemed to quarrel with him, for that act That felled him foiled them all: He drew the curse upon the world, and cracked The whole frame with his fall.” This made him long for home, as loath to stay With murmurers and foes; He sighed for Eden, and would often say,

20

i] wi)

“Ah! what bright days were those!” Nor was heaven cold unto him; for each day The valley or the mountain Afforded visits, and still Paradise lay In some green shade or fountain. Angels lay lieger* here; each bush and cell, Each oak and highway knew them; Walk but the fields, or sit down at some well,

And he was sure to view them. Almighty Love! where art thou now? Mad man 30

Sits down and freezeth on;

He raves, and swears to stir nor fire, nor fan,

But bids the thread® be spun. I see, thy curtains are close-drawn; thy bow4

thread of Fate

Looks dim, too, in the cloud; 6. Probably the Bible. The reference is to Matthew 13.45—46, to the merchant who sold all he had to buy a pearl ofgreat price, there likened to the Kingdom of Heaven. 1. God’s curse on Adam for eating the forbid-

(Genesis 3.18). 2. Cf. Donne, An Anatomy of the World, lines 199-200 (p. 954). 3. As resident ambassadors (from heaven). 4. The rainbow, God’s covenant with Noah after

den fruit included a curse on the earth: “Thorns

the Flood (Genesis 9.13).

also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee”

THE

WORLD

35

Sin triumphs still, and man is sunk below

40

All’s in deep sleep and night: thick darkness lies And hatcheth o'er thy people— But hark! what trumpet’s that? what angel cries, “Arise! thrust in thy sickle”?>

|

1283

The center, and his shroud.

1650

Unprofitableness How rich, O Lord! how fresh thy visits are!! "Twas but just now my bleak leaves hopeless hung, Sullied with dust and mud; Each snarling blast shot through me, and did share® Their youth and beauty; cold showers nipped and wrung Their spiciness and blood. But since thou didst in one sweet glance survey Their sad decays, I flourish, and once more Breathe all perfumes and spice; I smell a dew like myrrh, and all the day Wear in my bosom a full sun; such store Hath one beam from thy eyes. But, ah, my God! what fruit hast thou of this? What one poor leaf did ever I let? fall To wait upon thy wreath? Thus thou all day a thankless weed dost dress, And when th’ hast done, a stench or fog is all The odor I bequeath.

vw

10

15

shear off

1650

The World I saw eternity the other night, Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright; And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years,

5

Driven by the spheres,! Like a vast shadow moved, in which the world And all her train were hurled. The doting lover in his quaintest® strain Did there complain;

most ingenious

5. Alludes to Revelation 14.15: “And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, ‘Thrust in thy sickle, and reap, for the harvest of the earth is

1. Cf. Herbert's “The Flower” (pp. 1271-73). 2. The original printed text reads “yet,” emended here. j 1. The concentric spheres of Ptolemaic astron-

now.”

omy.

1284

|

HENRY

VAUGHAN

Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights,°

caprices

Wit’s sour delights,

With gloves and knots,° the silly snares of pleasure,

love knots

Yet his dear treasure,

All scattered lay, while he his eyes did pour Upon a flower. The darksome statesman hung with weights and woe Like a thick midnight fog moved there so slow He did nor stay nor go; Condemning thoughts, like sad eclipses, scowl Upon his soul, And clouds of crying witnesses? without Pursued him with one shout. Yet digged the mole,’ and, lest his ways be found, Worked underground,

Where he did clutch his prey. But one did see That policy:° Churches and altars fed him; perjuries

strategy

Were gnats and flies; It rained about him blood and tears; but he 30

Drank them as free.*

The fearful miser on a heap of rust Sat pining all his life there, did scarce trust His own hands with the dust;

Yet would not place® one piece above, but lives In fear of thieves.

invest

Thousands there were as frantic as himself,

40

And hugged each one his pelf: The downright epicure placed heaven in sense,° And scorned pretense; While others, slipped into a wide excess,

45

The weaker sort slight, trivial wares enslave, Who think them brave® And poor, despiséd Truth sat counting by° Their victory.

the senses

Said little less;

50

Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing, And sing and weep, soared up into the ring; But most would use no wing. “O fools!” said I, “thus to prefer dark night Before true light! To live in grots and caves, and hate the day Because it shows the way, The way which from this dead and dark abode Leads up to God,

2. In Hebrews 12, the “clouds of witnesses” testified to God's truth in past times.

champions

fine, showy recording

of faith accuse

one

Here, these

whose

actions

deny God. 3. Le., the “darksome statesman” (line 16).

4. Le., as freely as they rained.

THEY

ss

ARE

ALL

GONE

INTO

THE

WORLD

OF

LIGHT!

|

1285

A way where you might tread the sun and be More bright than he!” But as I did their madness so discuss,

60

One whispered thus: “This ring the bridegroom did for none provide, But for his bride.”® John Chap. 2. ver. 16, 17 All that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the

lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.

And the world passeth away, and the lusts thereof, but he that doth the will of God abideth forever. 1650

They Are All Gone into the World of Light! They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit ling’ring here; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear. vi

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is dressed After the sun’s remove.

10

I see them walking Whose light doth My days, which are Mere glimmering

in an air of glory, trample on my days; at best but dull and hoary,° and decays.

gray with age

O holy hope, and high humility, High as the heavens above! 1s

These are your walks, and you have showed them me

To kindle my cold love. Dear, beauteous death! the jewel of the just, Shining nowhere but in the dark;

20

What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark!°

boundary

He that hath found some fledged bird’s nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown;

5. Alludes to Revelation 19.7—9, the marriage of the Lamb and his Bride, allegorized as Christ and the church or Christ and the regenerate soul:

“Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb.”

1286

|

HENRY

VAUGHAN

But what fair well° or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. 25

spring

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted® themes, And into glory peep.

accustomed

If a star were confined into a tomb, 30

Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that locked her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphere. O Father of eternal life, and all

35

40

Created glories under thee! Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall° Into true liberty!

slavery

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My pérspective! still as they pass, Or else remove me hence unto that hill Where IJ shall need no glass. 1655

Cock-Crowing!

uw

10

Father of lights! what sunny seed,* What glance of day hast thou confined Into this bird? To all the breed This busy ray thou hast assigned; Their magnetism works all night, And dreams of Paradise and light. Their eyes watch for the morning hue, Their little grain expelling night So shines and sings, as if it knew The path unto the house of light. It seems their candle, howe’r done, Was tinned?® and lighted at the sun.

1. Literally, telescope, but more freely, distant vision.

1. The poem calls upon the Hermetic notion of sympathetic attraction between earthly and heavenly bodies, e.g., the cock whose crowing announces the sun’s rising because it bears within itself a “seed” of the sun. Vaughan finds here an analogy for the attraction the soul has for its

Maker. 2. The opening lines recall a passage from Hen-

kindled

ry’s brother, the Hermetic

philosopher Thomas

Vaughan: “For she [the Anima or Soul] is guided

in her operations by a spiritual metaphysical grain, a seed or glance of light... descending from the Father of lights.” That term for God is from James 1.17. “Seed,” “glance,” “ray,” and “grain” in line 8 are almost synonymous

Hermetic terms for the bit

of the sun implanted in the cock. “Magnetism” (line 5) refers to the attraction between the cock’s “seed” and its source, the sun.

COCK-CROWING

1287

If such a tincture,’ such a touch,

So firm a longing can impower, Shall thy own image? think it much To watch for thy appearing hour? If a mere blast so fill the sail,

Shall not the breath of God? prevail?

20

O thou immortal light and heat! Whose hand so shines through all this frame,° That by the beauty of the seat, We plainly see, who made the same. Seeing thy seed abides in me,

universe

Dwell thou in it, and I in thee. To sleep without thee, is to die;

30

Yea, ‘tis a death partakes of hell: For where thou dost not close the eye It never opens, I can tell. In such a dark, Egyptian border, The shades of death dwell and disorder.°

If joys, and hopes, and earnest throes, And hearts, whose pulse beats still for light Are given to birds; who, but thee, knows 35

40

A love-sick soul’s exalted flight? Can souls be tracked by any eye But his, who gave them wings to fly? Only this veil’ which thou hast broke, And must be broken yet in me, This veil, I say, is all the cloak And cloud which shadows thee from me. This veil thy full-eyed love denies, And only gleams and fractions spies. O take it off! Make no delay, But brush me with thy light, that I May shine unto a perfect day, And warm me at thy glorious eye! O take it off! or till it flee,

Though with no lily,® stay with me! 1655

3. Alchemical term for a spiritual principle whose quality may be infused into material things. 4. Alludes to Genesis 1.27: “So God created man in his own image.” 5. Alludes to Genesis 2.7: “And the Lord God

formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”

6. Alludes to Exodus 10.21, Moses bringing down the plague of “darkness over the land of Egypt,

even darkness which may be felt.” 7. Echoes Hebrews 10.20: “By a new and living way, which he [Christ] hath consecrated for us,

through the veil, that is to say, his flesh.” 8. Echoes Song of Solomon 2.16: “My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.”

1288

|

HENRY

VAUGHAN

The Night John 3.2!

Through that pure virgin-shrine, That sacred veil drawn o’er thy glorious noon, That men might look and live as glowworms shine And face the moon,

5

Wise Nicodemus saw such light As made him know his God by night. Most blest believer he!

Who in that land of darkness and blind eyes Thy long-expected healing wings? could see, 10

When thou didst rise, And what can never more be done,

Did at midnight speak with the Sun! O who will tell me where He found thee at that dead and silent hour?

What hallowed solitary ground did bear So rare a flower, Within whose sacred leaves did lie

The fullness of the Deity? 20

tw vi

30

No mercy seat of gold, No dead and dusty cherub nor carved stone,* But his own living works did my Lord hold And lodge alone; Where trees and herbs did watch and peep And wonder while the Jews did sleep. Dear night! this world’s defeat,* The stop to busy fools; care’s check and curb; The day of spirits; my soul’s calm retreat Which none disturb! Christ’s progress and his prayer time; The hours to which high heaven doth chime; God’s silent, searching flight,

When my Lord’s head is filled with dew, and all His locks are wet with the clear drops of night; His still, soft call;>

1. John 3.1-2 describes how a Pharisee named Nicodemus came to Jesus by night and said, “Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God.” 2. Echoes Malachi 4.2: “The Sun of righteousness [shall] arise with healing in his wings.” 3. God commanded the Israelites to cover the Ark of the Covenant with “a mercy seat of pure gold...and...twocherubims of gold, of beaten work . . . in the two ends of the mercy seat” (Exo-

dus 25.1718).

4. The style of this stanza and the next imitates Herbert’s “Prayer (1)” (pp. 1261—62).

5. Echoes Song of Solomon 5.2: “I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” For the allegory see “The World,” n. 5 (p. 1285).

THE

35

WATERFALL

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1289

His knocking time; the soul’s dumb watch,

When spirits their fair kindred catch.

40

Were all my loud, evil days Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark tent, Whose peace but by some angel’s wing or voice Is seldom rent, Then I in heaven all the long year Would keep, and never wander here.

But living where the sun Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tire Themselves and others, I consent and run To every mire, And by this world’s ill-guiding light Err more than I can do by night.

45

so

There is in God (some say) A deep but dazzling darkness,° as men here Say it is late and dusky, because they See not all clear. Oh for that night, where I in him Might live invisible and dim! 1655

The Waterfall! With what deep murmurs through time’s silent stealth Doth thy transparent, cool, and watery wealth Here flowing fall, And chide, and call,

s

10

As if his liquid, loose retinue stayed Ling’ring, and were of this steep place afraid, The common pass Where, clear as glass, All must descend, Not to an end,

But quickened by this steep and rocky grave, Rise to a longer course more bright and brave.°

is.

Dear stream! dear bank! where often I Have sat and pleased my pensive eye— Why, since each drop of thy quick® store

resplendent

living

6. Dionysius the Areopagite (ca. 5th century) deals with concepts of divine darkness, which the 14th-century philosopher Nicholas of Cusa

all the light that is in existing things.” 1. The water, with its startling descent in a waterfall but ultimate circularity to its source, is for

later developed, referring to the “Darkness where truly dwells .. . the one who is beyond all” and “the superessential Darkness which is hidden by

Vaughan an emblem of death and restoration of the soul to its source.

P2910

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20

tN 71

RICHARD

CRASHAW

Runs thither whence it flowed before, Should poor souls fear a shade or night, Who came, sure, from a sea of light? Or since those drops are all sent back So sure to thee that none doth lack, Why should frail flesh doubt any more That what God takes he’ll not restore? O useful element and clear! My sacred wash and cleanser here, My first consigner® unto those

30

Fountains of life where the Lamb goes!* What sublime truths and wholesome themes Lodge in thy mystical deep streams! Such as dull man can never find Unless that Spirit lead his mind Which first upon thy face did move And hatched all with his quickening love.* As this loud brook’s incessant fall In streaming rings restagnates® all

33

Which reach by course the bank, and then

in baptism

makes still again

Are no more seen, just so pass men.

Oh my invisible estate, My glorious liberty,’ still late! Thou art the channel my soul seeks,

40

Not this with cataracts and creeks. 1655

2. Echoes Revelation 7.17: “For the Lamb... shall lead them unto living fountains of waters.” 3. Alludes to Genesis 1.2: “And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” The Latin Vulgate version, incubabant, is closer to Vaughan’s

“hatched” than to “moved.” 4. Alludes to Romans 8.21, promising deliverance “from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.”

RICHARD CRASHAW ca. 1613-1649

teps to the Temple (1646, 1648), the name of Richard Crashaw’s collection of sacred poetry, clearly acknowledges George Herbert’s primacy among devotional poets. Yet Crashaw is hardly Herbert's slavish disciple. A Roman Catholic convert, Crashaw was profoundly influenced by the Counter-Reformation, which reacted against Protestant austerity by linking heightened spirituality to vivid bodily experiences. He is the only major English poet in the tradition of the Continental baroque, a movement in literature and visual art that developed out of the Counter-Reformation. Baroque style is exuberant, sensuous, and elaborately ornamented, and it deliberately strains decorum, challenging formal restraints and generic limitations. Crashaw’s favorite subjects are typical of baroque art: the infant Jesus surrounded by angels and

MUSIC’S

DUEL

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1291

cherubs; the crucified Savior, streaming blood; the sorrowful Virgin; the tearfully penitent Mary Magdalen; saintly martyrs wracked with ecstasy and pain. Although some have pronounced his images grotesque, Crashaw is alone among English poets in rendering the experience of rapture and religious ecstasy. The son of a Puritan divine noted for hatred of popery, Crashaw was educated at Pembroke College, Cambridge, where he became an adherent of Laudian Anglicanism. In 1636 he was elected a fellow of Peterhouse, another Cambridge college. By 1639 he had become a priest of the Church of England, curate of Little St. Mary’s, and a college lecturer. A contemporary wrote that his sermons “ravished more like poems,” but apparently none survive. Crashaw called Peterhouse his “little contentful kingdom”: his friends included the poet Abraham Cowley and George Herbert’s literary executor Nicholas Ferrar, the founder of the Anglican monastic community Little Gidding. In 1643 the Puritans occupied Cambridge, violently disrupting Crashaw’s life there. He fled to Paris and to the English court in exile, becoming a Roman Catholic in 1645. He was saved from destitution by obtaining various minor posts through the queen’s influence, the last one at Loreto—thought to be Jesus's house at Nazareth, miraculously transported to Italy. Crashaw’s Latin epigrams, published as Epigrammatum Sacrorum Liber (1634), were much influenced by Jesuit epigram style and are among the best by an Englishman. In their Latin and later English versions, they are characterized by puns, paradoxes, and sometimes bizarre metaphors, as in the epigram on Luke 11. In 1646 Crashaw published, with the first version of Steps to the Temple, a book of secular poems, The Delights of the Muses, some of them in the restrained style of Ben Jonson. But the masterpiece of this book is “Music’s Duel,” a much-elaborated version of a

poem by the Jesuit Famianus Strada about a contest between a nightingale and a lutenist, between melody and harmony. Crashaw imitates music by means of liquid vowels, gliding syntax, onomatopoeia, and the complex blending of sounds. Beyond that, he renders the ecstasy of the listening experience by collapsing one sense into another (synesthesia), creating an effect of continual metamorphosis. Crashaw constantly revised his religious poems, usually making them longer. His posthumous volume, Carmen Deo Nostro (1652), includes emblems he may have executed himself, among them the padlocked heart prefixed to a poem urging the Countess of Denbigh to convert to Catholicism. Especially notable are the final versions of several hymns, ranging from the witty praise of St. Theresa in “The Flaming Heart” to the meltingly sweet “In the Holy Nativity.”

From THe DELIGHTS OF THE MUSES

Music’s Duel! Now westward Sol? had spent the richest beams Of noon’s high glory, when hard by° the streams

the sun close to

Of Tiber, on the scene of a green plat,

s

Under protection of an oak, there sat A sweet lute’s-master: in whose gentle airs

1. Based on a much shorter Latin poem by the

harmony

Jesuit Famianus Strada (1617), which also relates

remarkable for synesthesia, the blending of sen-

(polyphony). The poem

is especially

a contest between a nightingale and a lutenist, as a version of the contest between nature and art. Crashaw’s poem also represents the contest of two kinds of music, melody (monody) and

sory images into one another, and sometimes the representation of one sense in the imagery of another.

12:92

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RICHARD

CRASHAW

He lost the day’s heat, and his own hot cares. Close in the covert of the leaves there stood A nightingale, come from the neighboring wood: (The sweet inhabitant of each glad tree, Their Muse, their Siren,* harmless Siren she) There stood she listening, and did entertain The music’s soft report: and mold the same In her own murmurs, that whatever mood

His curious? fingers lent, her voice made good: The man perceived his rival, and her art, Disposed to give the light-foot lady sport Awakes his lute, and ‘gainst the fight to come Informs it, in a sweet praeludium® Of closer strains, and ere the war begin,

skillful

prelude, introduction

He lightly skirmishes on every string Charged with a flying touch: and straightway she Carves out her dainty voice as readily, Into a thousand sweet distinguished tones, And reckons up in soft divisions,° 25

30

rapid melodic passages

Quick volumes of wild notes; to let him know By that shrill taste, she could do something too. His nimble hands instinct then taught each string A cap’ring cheerfulness; and made them sing To their own dance; now negligently rash He throws his arm, and with a long drawn dash Blends all together; then distinctly trips From this to that; then quick returning skips And snatches this again, and pauses there. She measures every measure, everywhere Meets art with art; sometimes as if in doubt

40

Not perfect yet, and fearing to be out® Trails her plain ditty? in one long-spun note Through the sleek passage of her open throat: A clear unwrinkled song, then doth she point it With tender accents, and severely joint it By short diminutives, that being reared In controverting warbles evenly shared, With her sweet self she wrangles; he amazed That from so small a channel should be raised

at a loss

The torrent of a voice, whose melody

Could melt into such sweet variety, Strains higher yet; that tickled with rare art The tattling® strings (each breathing in his part) Most kindly do fall out;° the grumbling bass 50

In surly groans disdains the treble’s grace. The high-perched treble chirps at this, and chides, Until his finger (moderator) hides And closes the sweet quarrel, rousing all Hoarse, shrill, at once; as when the trumpets call

2. The irresistible singing ofsirens lures men to

their death.

prattling naturally quarrel

3. Simple melody, without divisions.

MUSIC'S

ss

DUEL

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12:93

Hot Mars to th’harvest of death’s field, and woo

Men's hearts into their hands; this lesson too

60

She gives him back; her supple breast thrills out Sharp airs, and staggers in a warbling doubt Of dallying sweetness, hovers o'er her skill, And folds in waved notes with a trembling bill, The pliant series of her slippery song. Then starts she suddenly into a throng

65

And roll themselves over her lubric® throat In panting murmurs, stilled° out of her breast, That ever-bubbling spring; the sugared nest

Of short thick sobs, whose thundering volleys float,

smooth distilled

Of her delicious soul, that there does lie

70

vw

Bathing in streams of liquid melody; Music's best seed-plot, whence in ripened airs A golden-headed harvest fairly rears His honey-dropping tops, plowed by her breath Which there reciprocally laboreth In that sweet soil. It seems a holy choir Founded to th’name of great Apollo's? lyre. Whose silver roof rings with the sprightly notes Of sweet-lipped angel-imps, that swill their throats In cream of morning Helicon,’ and then Prefer° soft anthems to the ears of men,

so

ss

To woo them from their beds, still murmuring That men can sleep while they their matins sing: (Most divine service) whose so early lay° Prevents® the eyelids of the blushing day. There might you hear her kindle her soft voice, In the close murmur of a sparkling noise, And lay the groundwork of her hopeful song, Still keeping in the forward stream, so long Till a sweet whirlwind (striving to get out)

offer

song comes before

Heaves her soft bosom, wanders round about,

90

95

100

And makes a pretty earthquake in her breast, Till the fledged notes at length forsake their nest; Fluttering in wanton shoals, and to the sky Winged with their own wild echoes prattling fly. She opes the floodgate, and lets loose a tide Of streaming sweetness, which in state doth ride On the waved back of every swelling strain, Rising and falling in a pompous train. And while she thus discharges a shrill peal Of flashing airs, she qualifies® their zeal With the cool epode?® of a graver note,

moderates lyric

~=Thus high, thus low, as if her silver throat Would reach the brazen voice of war’s hoarse bird;°

the raven

Her little soul is ravished: and so poured Into loose ecstasies, that she is placed 4. God of music and poetry, father of the Muses. 5. Mountain in Greece, home of the Muses; sometimes, the fountains there.

1294

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RICHARD

CRASHAW

Above herself, music’s enthusiast.° 105

Shame now and anger mixed a double stain In the musician’s face; yet once again, Mistress, I come; now reach a strain, my lute, Above her mock, or be forever mute.

110

115

Or tune a song of victory to me, Or to thyself sing thine own obsequy;° So said, his hands sprightly as fire he flings, And with a quavering coyness tastes the strings. The sweet-lipped sisters°® musically frighted, Singing their fears are fearfully delighted. Trembling as when Apollo’s golden hairs

funeral song the Muses

Are fanned and frizzled, in the wanton airs Of his own breath; which married to his lyre

Doth tune the spheres, and make heaven’s self look higher. From this to that, from that to this he flies, 120

Feels music’s pulse in all her arteries, Caught in a net which there Apollo spreads, His fingers struggle with the vocal threads, Following those little rills,’ he sinks into A Sea of Helicon;® his hand does go Those parts of sweetness, which with nectar drop, Softer than that which pants in Hebe’s’ cup. The humorous? strings expound his learned touch By various glosses; now they seem to grutch®

130

And murmur in a buzzing din, then jingle In shrill tongued accents: striving to be single. Every smooth turn, every delicious stroke Gives life to some new grace; thus doth h’invoke Sweetness by all her names; thus, bravely° thus (Fraught with a fury so harmonious) The lute’s light genius now does proudly rise, Heaved on the surges of swollen rhapsodies.

capricious grumble

splendidly

Whose flourish, meteor-like, doth curl the air

140

With flash of high-borne fancies; here and there Dancing in lofty measures, and anon Creeps on the soft touch of a tender tone: Whose trembling murmurs melting in wild airs Runs to and fro, complaining his sweet cares Because those precious mysteries that dwell, In music’s ravished soul he dare not tell,

But whisper to the world: thus do they vary Each string his note, as if they meant to carry Their master’s blest soul (snatched out at his ears

150

By a strong ecstasy) through all the spheres Of music’s heaven; and seat it there on high In th’ empyreum’® of pure harmony. At length (after so long, so loud a strife

6. Literally, one inspired by a god. 7. Small streams; also, passages of liquid notes. 8. Resort of Apollo and the Muses.

highest heaven

9. Greek goddess of youth and cupbearer to the gods.

|! AM

THE

DOOR

|

W295

Of all the strings, still breathing the best life Of blest variety attending on His finger’s fairest revolution is5

In many a sweet rise, many as sweet a fall) A full-mouthed diapason! swallows all. This done, he lists what she would say to this, And she although her breath’s late exercise Had dealt too roughly with her tender throat, Yet summons all her sweet powers for a note

160

Alas! in vain! for while, sweet soul, she tries

To measure all those wild diversities Of chatt’ring strings, by the small size of one Poor simple voice, raised in a natural tone,

165

She fails, and failing grieves, and grieving dies. She dies; and leaves her life the victor’s prize, Falling upon his lute; o fit to have (That lived so sweetly) dead, so sweet a grave!

1646

FRom STEPS TO THE TEMPLE

To the Infant Martyrs!

s

Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages° break: In heaven you'll learn to sing, ere here to speak.? Nor let the milky fonts that bathe your thirst Be your delay; The place that calls you hence is, at the worst, Milk all the way.?

their bodies

1646

I Am the Door' And now th’ art set wide ope, the spear’s sad art,

Lo! hath unlocked thee at the very heart; He to himself (I fear the worst)

And his own hope 5

Hath shut these doors of heaven, that durst

Thus set them ope. 1646 1. A grand burst of harmony. 1. This epigram and the three following were originally written in Latin in a volume of “Sacred Epigrams” and then rendered in English versions. Epigrams are brief, pithy, witty poems with, as was often said, “a sting in the tail.” This poem addresses

the Holy Innocents,

the infants mur-

dered by Herod in an effort to destroy the new-

born Jesus, who was honored as King of the Jews by the Magi (Matthew 2.16—18). 2. Infant comes from the Latin infans, meaning “unable to speak.” 3. The Milky Way will replace their mothers’ milk, 1. “I am the door; by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved” (1 John 10.9).

1296

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RICHARD

CRASHAW

On the Wounds of Our Crucified Lord O these wakeful wounds of thine! Are they mouths? or are they eyes? Be they mouths, or be they eyne,! Each bleeding part some one supplies.”

Lo! a mouth, whose At too dear a rate Lo! a bloodshot eye! And many a cruel

full-bloomed lips are roses. that weeps tear discloses.

O thou that on this foot hast laid Many a kiss and many a tear, Now thou shalt have all repaid, Whatsoe’er thy charges were. This foot hath got a mouth and lips To pay the sweet sum of thy kisses; To pay thy tears, an eye that weeps Instead of tears such gems as this is. The difference only this appears (Nor can the change offend),

The debt is paid in ruby-tears Which thou in pearls didst lend. 1646

Luke 11.[27]!

Blessed be the paps which Thou hast sucked Suppose he had been tabled at thy teats, Thy hunger feels not what he eats: He'll have his teat e’re long (a bloody one)? The Mother then must suck the Son.

1646

1. Eyes, an old plural form. 2. I.e., each wound of Christ is either an eye ora mouth.

1. The verse identifies the addressee: “And it came to pass, as he [Jesus] spake these things, a

certain woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said unto him, ‘Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.’” 2. The wound in Christ's side, making his breast (the fountain of all graces) bloody.

1297

FROM CARMEN

Deo Nostro

In the Holy Nativity of Our Lord God: the Shepherds! CHoRUS

A Hymn Sung as by

Come we shepherds whose blest sight Hath met love’s noon in nature’s night; Come lift we up our loftier song, And wake the sun that lies too long. To all our world of well-stol’n joy He® slept, and dreamt of no such thing, While we found out heaven’s fairer eye, And kissed the cradle of our King.

wi)

the sun

Tell him he rises now too late To show us aught worth looking at.

10

Tell him we now can show him more Than he e’er showed to mortal sight; Than he himself e’er saw before,

Which to be seen needs not his light. Tell him, Tityrus, where th’ hast been;

15

Tell him, Thyrsis,* what th’ hast seen. Gloomy night embraced the place Where the noble infant lay. The babe looked up and showed his face: In spite of darkness, it was day. It was thy day, sweet!° and did rise, Not from the east, but from thine eyes.

TITYRUS

20

CHORUS

sweet one

It was thy day, sweet, etc.

Winter chid aloud, and sent

THYRSIS

25

The angry north to wage his wars; The north forgot his fierce intent, And left perfumes instead of scars. By those sweet eyes’ persuasive powers, Where he meant frost, he scattered flowers. CHORUS By those sweet eyes, etc.

30

We saw thee in thy balmy°® nest, Young dawn of our eternal day! We saw thine eyes break from their east And chase the trembling shades away. We saw thee; and we blessed the sight. We saw thee by thine own sweet light.

BOTH

35

eastern, perfumed

1. See Luke 2.8—20. The poem’s form, the inter-

the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” (pp. 1451-59).

weaving

The last version ofthis poem (1652), printed here,

of chorus

structurally ian musical known from form invites

and

alternating

soloists,

is

comparable to an oratorio, an Italform that Crashaw may well have his sojourns on the Continent.

Its

comparison with Dryden’s “Alexan-

der’s Feast,” and its subject with

Milton’s

“On

differs considerably from the first version (1646).

2. Tityrus and Thyrsis are typical names for shepherds in classical pastoral poetry; Crashaw here identifies such pastoral figures with the biblical shepherds from the hillsides around Bethlehem.

1298

|

RICHARD

TITYRUS

40

CRASHAW

Poor world (said I), what wilt thou do To entertain this starry stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow, A cold, and not too cleanly, manger?

Contend, ye powers of heaven and earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth. cHorus

THyRSIS

45

Contend, ye powers, etc.

Proud world (said I), cease your contést,

And let the Mighty Babe alone. The phoenix builds the phoenix’ nest;? Love’s architecture is his own.

The Babe whose birth embraves® this morn Made his own bed ere he was born. 50

cHorus'

TiTyRus

The Babe whose, ete.

I saw the curl’d drops, soft and slow, Come hovering o’er the place’s head, Offering their whitest sheets of snow To furnish the fair Infant’s bed: Forbear (said I), be not too bold; Your fleece is white, but ’tis too cold. cHorus' Forbear (said J), etc.

Wn wi

THyRSIS 60

| saw the obsequious seraphims* Their rosy fleece of fire bestow, For well they now can spare their wings Since heaven itself lies here below. Well done (said I), but are you sure Your down so warm will pass for pure? cHoRUS'

65

makes splendid

TiTyRUS

Well done (said I), etc.

No, no; your King’s not yet to seek Where to repose his royal head; See, see; how soon his new-bloomed cheek

Twixt mother’s breasts is gone to bed. Sweet choice (said we), no way but so

70

Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow. CHORUS

BOTH

vw

Sweet choice (said we), etc.

We saw thee in thy balmy nest, Bright dawn of our eternal day! We saw thine eyes break from their east And chase the trembling shades away. We saw thee; and we blessed the sight. We saw thee, by thine own sweet light. cHorus’ We saw thee, etc.

3. The phoenix is the legendary bird of ancient Egypt, often taken as a symbol for Christ. Only one phoenix existed at any one time; after it had lived five hundred years, it was consumed in flame and a new phoenix rose from the ashes. Christ as

Son of God took part in the making of the world long before his incarnation. 4. The highest order of angels, associated with fire because of their ardent love of God.

IN

THE

HOLY

NATIVITY

OF

OUR

LORD

GOD

|P20)8)

FULL CHORUS 80

Welcome, all wonders in one sight! Eternity shut in a span. Summer in winter. Day in night. Heaven in earth, and God in man. Great little one! whose all-embracing birth Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heaven to earth.

Welcome! though not to gold nor silk, To more than Caesar's birthright is; Two sister seas of virgin milk,

90

With many a rarely tempered kiss That breathes at once both maid® and mother, Warms in the one, cools in the other.

virgin

Welcome! though not to those gay flies® Gilded i’ th’ beams of earthly kings— Slippery souls in smiling eyes; But to poor shepherds, homespun things, 95

Whose wealth’s their flock, whose wit to be

Well read in their simplicity.

Yet when young April’s husband showers Shall bless the fruitful Maia’s bed,° 100

We'll bring the firstborn of her flowers To kiss thy feet and crown thy head. To thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep The shepherds more than they the sheep. To Thee, meek Majesty! soft King

105

Of simple graces and sweet loves, Each of us his lamb will bring, Each his pair of silver doves, Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes, Ourselves become our own best sacrifice. 1646, 1652

5. Courtiers, stigmatized in three compressed lines as ephemeral, worldly, and hypocritical.

6. The showers of April make fruitful the bed of

May (from Maia, identified with an ancient Italian goddess of the spring).

on.

Vat ojala ay

NON

V1!

Tis not the work of force but skill To find the way into man’s will. ‘Tis love alone can hearts unlock. Who knows the Worp, he needs not knock.

‘POPs

rE

Noblest & best of Ladies, the

Countess of Denbigh. Persuading her to Resolution in Religion, & to render herself without further delay into the Communion of the Catholic Church.

ins)

What heaven-entreated heart is this,

Stands trembling at the gate of bliss, Holds fast the door, yet dares not venture Fairly to open it, and enter? wa)

Whose definition is a doubt "Twixt life and death, ’twixt in and out.

i0

is

Say, lingering fair! why comes the birth Of your brave soul so slowly forth? Plead your pretenses (O you strong In weakness!) why you choose so long In labor of your self to lie, Not daring quite to live nor die. Ah, linger not, loved soul! A slow And late consent was? a long no; Who grants at last, long time tried And did his best to have denied. What magic bolts, what mystic bars, Maintain the will in these strange wars!

would be

1. Not by force. Emblems were popular in Europe in the late Renaissance. Their elements were

2. Susan, countess of Denbigh, was widowed

generally three; an image, an adage, and a poem explaining the relation of the other two. The image

1643, when her husband died fighting for the king. She went to Paris into exile with Queen

was often an enigma, with the poem often moral-

Henrietta Maria in 1644 and, with some other ladies attached to the court of that Roman Cath-

izing its various elements. Crashaw's poem to the

countess of Denbigh takes its departure from an enigmatic image but, like the best emblem poems, goes far beyond it. The heart has a hinge on the right, to show that it can be opened, but is sealed on the left with a scroll or phylactery inscribed with letters standing for the Word, which alone enables one to open the heart. Crashaw is said to

have engraved this image himself.

in

olic queen, was herself attracted to that religion, Crashaw himself was a new convert; here he

engages in a poetic version of the pressure often

exerted by Catholic priests and Anglican clergy on influential court ladies. As usual, he calls upon the imagery of erotic persuasion to urge her conversion.

TO

THE

COUNTESS

OF

DENBIGH

What fatal® yet fantastic bands

20

30

Keep the free heart from its own hands! So when the year takes cold, we see Poor waters their own prisoners be; Fettered and locked up fast they lie In a sad self-captivity. Th’ astonished nymphs their flood’s strange fate deplore, To see themselves their own severer shore. Thou that alone canst thaw this cold, And fetch the heart from its stronghold, Almighty Love! end this long war, And of a meteor make a star.? O fix this fair indefinite; And ‘mongst thy shafts of sovereign? light Choose out that sure decisive dart

|

1301

fateful

supreme, effectual

Which has the key of this close heart, Knows all the corners of ’t, and can control

The self-shut cabinet of an unsearched soul. Olet it be at last love’s hour! Raise this tall trophy of thy power; 40

Come once the conquering way, not to confute, But kill this rebel-word, irresolute,

That so, in spite of all this peevish strength Of weakness, she may write, resolved at length. Unfold at length, unfold, fair flower,

And use the season of love’s shower. Meet his well-meaning wounds, wise heart, And haste to drink the wholesome dart,

That healing shaft which heaven till now Hath inlove’s quiver hid for you. O dart of love! arrow of light! O happy you, if it hit right; It must not fall in vain, it must

55

60

65

Not mark the dry, regardless dust. Fair one, it is your fate, and brings Eternal worlds upon its wings. Meet it with wide-spread arms, and see Its seat your soul’s just center be. Disband dull fears; give faith the day. To save your life, kill your delay. It is love’s siege, and sure to be Your triumph, though his victory. "Tis cowardice that keeps this field, And want of courage not to yield. Yield, then, O yield, that love may win The fort at last, and let life in. Yield quickly, lest perhaps you prove Death’s prey before the prize of love. This fort of your fair self, if ’t be not won, He is repulsed indeed; but you are undone. 1652

3. Meteors were sublunary and therefore irregular and transient; stars, above the moon, were regular,

fixed, and permanent.

1302

|

RICHARD

CRASHAW

The Flaming Heart — St. Teresa of Avila, a sixteenth-century Spanish mystic and founder of an ascetic order of barefoot Carmelite nuns, was one of the great figures of the Catholic Reformation. Her autobiography, popular throughout Europe and translated into English in 1642 as The Flaming Heart, describes not only her practical problems in establishing her order but also a series of ecstatic trances and visitations that represent union with the divine in sensual, indeed erotic, imagery. The Italian sculptor and architect Gianlorenzo Bernini portrayed a mystical experience described in the autobiography in a stunning baroque statue still in the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria, in Rome. It shows the saint in an attitude of ecstatic,

swooning abandonment while a juvenile seraph stands over her, about to plunge a golden arrow into her heart. Crashaw may or may not have seen this statue while Bernini was at work on it (it was

installed after Crashaw’s

death), but his poem

addresses a painter who produced a picture of this episode conceived much as Bernini presented it.

1303

THE

FLAMING

HEART

UrPiO. Noite: 4B @h@aKer /AUNbD Picture of the seraphical saint

Toke BSA (ApS

erostteh lesa eset[ey pressed witha SERAPHIM

exe

beside her.)!

vi

Well-meaning readers! you that come as friends, And catch the precious name this piece pretends,° Make not too much haste to admire That fair-cheeked fallacy of fire. That is a seraphim, they say, And this the great Teresia. Readers, be ruled by me, and make Here a well-placed and wise mistake: You must transpose the picture quite And spell® it wrong to read’ it right;

_ puts forward

read / understand

Read him for her and her for him,

And call the saint the seraphim. Painter, what didst thou understand,

To put her dart into his hand! See, even the years and size of him

Shows this the mother seraphim. This is the mistress-flame; and duteous he,

25

Her happy fireworks here comes down to see. O most poor-spirited of men! Had thy cold pencil kissed her pen? Thou couldst not so unkindly err To show us this faint shade for her. Why, man, this speaks pure mortal frame, And mocks with female frost love’s manly flame. One would suspect thou meant’st to paint

30

But had thy pale-faced purple took Fire from the burning cheeks of that bright book, Thou wouldst on her have heaped up all That could be found seraphical:

Some weak, inferior, woman saint.

1. “Seraphim” is in fact the plural form of “seraph.” This highest order of angels was thought to burn continuously in the fire of divine love.

2. L.e., if you had only been properly inspired by her book.

RICHARD

1304

CRASHAW

Whate’er this youth of fire wears fair, Rosy fingers, radiant hair,

35

40

Glowing cheek and glistering wings, All those fair and flagrant° things, But before all, that fiery dart Had filled the hand of this great heart. Do then as equal right requires, Since his the blushes be, and hers the fires, Resume and rectify thy rude design, Undress thy seraphim into mine. Redeem this injury of thy art, Give him the veil, give her the dart. Give him the veil, that he may cover The red cheeks® of a rivaled lover,

45

burning

blushes

Ashamed that our world now can show Nests of new seraphims here below.? Give her the dart, for it is she (Fair youth) shoots both thy shaft and thee.

wa wn

60

65

Say, all ye wise and well-pierced hearts That live and die amidst her darts,° What is ’t your tasteful spirits do prove® In that rare life of her and love? Say and bear witness. Sends she not A seraphim at every shot? What magazines of immortal arms there shine! Heaven’s great artillery in each love-spun line. Give then the dart to her who gives the flame, Give him the veil who kindly takes the shame. But if it be the frequent fate

i.e., her writings experience

Of worst faults to be fortunate;

If all’s prescription,’ and proud wrong Hearkens not to an humble song, For all the gallantry of him, Give me the suffering seraphim.’ His be the bravery® of all those bright things, The glowing cheeks, the glistering wings,

splendor

The rosy hand, the radiant dart;

Leave her alone the Flaming Heart. Leave her that, and thou shalt leave her Not one loose shaft, but love’s whole quiver. For in love's field was never found A nobler weapon than a wound. Love's passives are his activ’st part, The wounded is the wounding heart. O heart! the equal poise of love’s both parts, Big alike with wounds and darts,

3. Teresa burns on earth in love, as seraphim do in heaven.

4. l.e., settled beforehand, by the decision of the

artist. 5. If Teresa can’t be transformed into the angel, Crashaw prefers her as the “suffering” lover.

THE

80

Live And Live And

FLAMING

HEART

|

PS}CONS)

in these conquering leaves,® live all the same: walk through all tongues one triumphant flame. here, great heart; and love and die and kill, bleed and wound; and yield and conquer still.

Let this immortal life, where’er it comes,

85

90

100

105

Walk in a crowd of loves and martyrdoms. Let mystic deaths wait on 't, and wise souls be The love-slain witnesses of this life of thee. O sweet incendiary! show here thy art, Upon this carcass of a hard, cold heart;° Let all thy scattered shafts of light, that play Among the leaves of thy large books of day,’ Combined against this breast, at once break in And take away from me myself and sin! This gracious robbery shall thy bounty be, And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me.* O thou undaunted daughter of desires! By all thy dower of lights and fires; By all the eaglein thee, all the dove,? By all thy lives and deaths of love; By thy large drafts of intellectual day, And by thy thirsts of love more large than they; By all thy brim-filled bowls of fierce desire, By thy last morning's draft of liquid fire; By the full kingdom of that final kiss That seized thy parting soul, and sealed thee His; By all the heavens thou hast in Him, Fair sister of the seraphim, By all of Him we have in thee, Leave nothing of myself in me! Let me so read thy life that I Unto all life of mine may die!

Crashaw’s heart

1652

6. l.e., the leaves of St. Teresa’s book.

7. Books filled with intellectual and spiritual light. 8. Le., my best fortune will be to be despoiled in this way.

9. The eagle suggests wisdom and power, for its lofty flight and ability to look into the sun’s eye; the dove suggests mercy and gentleness. Cf. Donne's “The Canonization,” line 22 (pp. 927-28).

ROBERT HERRICK 1591-1674

%G

obert Herrick was the most devoted of the Sons of Ben, though his epigrams and lyrics (like Jonson’s) also show the direct influence of classical poets: Hor-

ace, Anacreon, Catullus, Tibullus, Ovid, and Martial. Born in London the son of a goldsmith and apprenticed for some years in that craft, Herrick took B.A. and M.A. degrees at Cambridge and consorted in the early 1620s with Jonson and his “tribe,” who met regularly at the Apollo Room. After his ordination in 1623, he apparently served as chaplain to various noblemen and in that role joined Buckingham’s failed military expedition to rescue French Protestants at Rhé in 1627. In 1630 he was

installed as the vicar of Dean Prior in Devonshire. Expelled as a royalist in 1647, he apparently lived in London until the Restoration, when he was reinstated at Dean Prior and remained there until his death. Herrick’s single volume of poems, Hesperides (1648), with its appended book of religious poems, Noble Numbers, contains over four hundred short poems. Many are love poems on the carpe diem theme—seize the day, time is fleeting, make love now; a famous example is the elegant song “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time.” But Herrick’s range is much wider than is sometimes recognized. He moves from the pastoral to the cynical, from an almost rococo elegance to coarse, even vulgar, epigrams, and from the didactic to the dramatic. Also, he derives mythic energy and power from certain recurring motifs. One is metamorphosis,

“times trans-

shifting,” the transience of all natural things. Another is celebration—festivals and feasts—evoking the social, ritualistic, and even anthropological signficances and energies contained in rural harvest festivals (“The Hock Cart”) or the May Day rituals described in what is perhaps his finest poem, “Corinna’s Going A-Maying.” Yet another is the classical but also perennial ideal of the “good life,” defined in his terms as “cleanly wantonness.” For Herrick this involves love devoid of high passion (the several mistresses he addresses seem interchangeable and not very real);

the pleasures of food, drink, and song; delight in the beauty of surfaces (as in “Upon Julia’s Clothes”); and, finally, the creation of poetry as bulwark against the ravages of time. Published just months

before

the execution

of Charles

I, these poems

seem

merely playful and charming, almost oblivious to the catastrophes of the war. But they are not. Poems celebrating rural feasts and festivals, ceremonial social occasions, and the rituals of good fellowship reinforce the conservative values of social stability, tradition, and order threatened by the Puritans. Several poems that draw upon the Celtic mythology of fairy folk make their feasts, temples, worship, and ceremonies stand in for the forbidden ceremonies of the Laudian church and a life governed by ritual. Still other poems, like “The Hock Cart” and “Corinna’s Going A-Maying,” celebrate the kind of rural festivals that were at the center of the culture wars between royalists and Puritans. Both James I and Charles I urged such activities in their Book of Sports as a means of reinforcing traditional institutions in the countryside and deflecting discontent, while Puritans vigorously opposed them as occasions for drunkenness and licentiousness.

1306

UPON

THE

LOSS

OF

HIS

MISTRESSES

|

1307

FRom HEspeERIDEs!

The Argument? of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,

Of April, May, of June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, hock carts, wassails, wakes, wa

10

Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access

By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece, Of balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris. I sing of times trans-shifting,° and I write How roses first came red and lilies white. I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing The court of Mab and of the fairy king.° I write of hell; I sing (and ever shall) Of heaven, and hope to have it after all.

changing

Upon the Loss of His Mistresses! I have lost, and lately, these

Many dainty mistresses: Stately Julia, prime of all;

Sappho next, a principal; wi)

Smooth Anthea, for a skin White and heaven-like crystalline; Sweet Electra, and the choice

Myrrha, for the lute and voice; 10

Next Corinna for her wit And the graceful use of it, With Perilla; all are gone,

Only Herrick’s left alone, For to number sorrows by Their departures hence, and die.

1. In myth, the Hesperides, or Western Maidens, guarded an orchard and a garden, also called

Hesperides, in which grew a tree bearing golden apples. Herrick’s title suggests that his poems are golden apples from his residence in western Devonshire; the following poems are all from that volume published in 1648. 2. Subject matter, theme.

were adorned and celebrated. “Wassails” were Twelfth Night celebrations. 4, A secretion of the sperm whale that is used in making perfume—hence it suggests something rare and delectable. 5. Mab was queen ofthe fairies and wife oftheir king, Oberon. 1. The ladies are imaginary, and their names are

3. Festive, not funerary, occasions, to celebrate

traditional in classical love poetry and pastoral

the dedication of anew church. “Hock carts” carried home the last load of the harvest, so they

poetry.

1308

ROBERT

HERRICK

The Vine I dreamed this mortal part of mine Was metamorphosed to a vine,

Which, crawling one and every way, Enthralled my dainty Lucia.! Methought, her long small legs and thighs I with my tendrils did surprise; Her belly, buttocks, and her waist By my soft nervelets were embraced. About her head I writhing hung, And with rich clusters (hid among

vw

The leaves) her temples I behung,

So that my Lucia seemed to me Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.° My curls about her neck did crawl, And arms and hands they did enthrall, So that she could not freely stir (All parts there made one prisoner). But when I crept with leaves to hide Those parts which maids keep unespied, Such fleeting pleasures there I took That with the fancy I awoke,

the grapevine

And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine

More like a stock® than like a vine.

hard stalk

Dreams

Here we are all, by day; by night, we’re hurled By dreams, each one into a several® world.

separate

Delight in Disorder! A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness. A lawn® about the shoulders thrown

fine linen scarf

Into a fine distractidn; 7)

An erring? lace, which here and there Enthralls the crimson stomacher;?

wandering

A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbons to flow confusedly; A winning wave, deserving note, 1. For the sake of both rhyme and meter, the name of this lady is given three syllables here; in line 12 it has only two. 1. One of several poems in this period in which

women’s dress is a means by which to explore the relation of nature and art. 2. An ornamental covering of the chest, worn under the laces of the bodice.

HIS

10

~=Inthe tempestuous

FAREWELL

TO

SACK

|

ISiOl9

petticoat;

A careless shoestring, in whose tie I see a wild civility: Do more bewitch me than when art Is too precise? in every part.

His Farewell to Sack! Farewell, thou thing, time-past so known, so dear To me as blood to life and spirit; near, Nay, thou more near than kindred, friend, man, wife,

5

10

15

20

Male to the female, soul to body, life To quick action, or the warm soft side Of the resigning® yet resisting bride. The kiss of virgins; first fruits of the bed; Soft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead; These and a thousand sweets could never be

yielding

So near or dear as thou wast once to me.

O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine That scatterest spirit and lust;° whose purest shine

pleasure

More radiant than the summer’s sunbeams shows, Each way illustrious, brave;° and like to those

splendid

Comets we see by night, whose shagg’d? portents Foretell the coming of some dire events, Or° some full flame which with a pride aspires, Throwing about his wild and active fires.

or like to

"Tis thou, above nectar, O divinest soul! (Eternal in thyself) that canst control

That which subverts whole nature: grief and care, Vexation of the mind, and damned despair.

25

"Tis thou alone who with thy mystic fan? Work’st more than wisdom, art, or nature can To rouse the sacred madness,* and awake The frost-bound blood and spirits, and to make

30

Them frantic with thy raptures, flashing through The soul like lightning, and as active too. "Tis not Apollo can, or those thrice three Castalian sisters sing,’ if wanting? thee. Horace, Anacreon both had lost their fame Had’st thou not filled them with thy fire and flame.° Phoebean splendor! and thou Thespian spring!”

3. “Precise” and “precision” were terms used satirically about Puritans. Herrick, in praising feminine disarray, is at one level praising the “sprezzatura,’ or careless grace, of Cavalier art. 1. Sherry wine, imported from Spain. 2. Hairy, referring to a comet's tail. 3. Instrument for winnowing grain; associated with Bacchus, god of wine.

4. Poetic inspiration or frenzy, often likened to intoxication.

lacking

5. Apollo, god of poetry, and the Nine Muses; the Castalian spring on Mount Parnassus was sacred to them. 6. Both Horace and Anacreon wrote about the pleasures of wine. 7. In addition to being an epithet of Apollo, Phoebus in Greek means bright, pure. The inhabitants of Thespiae, in Boeotia, worshipped the Muses and held an annual festival in their honor at the spring of Hippocrene, nearby.

|

1310

ROBERT

HERRICK

Of which sweet swans must drink before they sing Their true-paced numbers and their holy lays® Which makes them worthy cedar and the bays.* But why? why longer do I gaze upon Thee with the eye of admiration? Since I must leave thee, and enforced must say 40

songs

To all thy witching beauties, Go, away.

But if thy whimpering looks do ask me why, Then know that nature bids thee go, not I. "Tis her erroneous self has made a brain Uncapable of such a sovereign As is thy powerful self. Prithee not smile, Or smile more inly, lest thy looks beguile My vows denounced? in zeal, which thus much show thee,

proclaimed

That I have sworn but by thy looks to know thee. Let others drink thee freely, and desire Thee and their lips espoused, while | admire And love thee but not taste thee. Let my muse Fail of thy former helps, and only use Her inadulterate strength. What's done by me Hereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.’

Corinna’s Going A-Maying Get up! Get up for shame! The blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.! See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colors through the air:? vw

Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see

The dew bespangling herb and tree. Each flower has wept and bowed toward the east Above an hour since, yet you not dressed; Nay, not so much as out of bed?

10

15

When all the birds have matins? said, And sung their thankful hymns, ’tis sin, Nay, profanation® to keep in, Whenas a thousand virgins on this day Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.?

morning prayer impiety

Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the springtime, fresh and green, And sweet as Flora.* Take no care For jewels for your gown or hair;

8. Cedar oil was used to preserve papyrus; the poet's crown is woven of bay (i.e., laurel) leaves.

2. Aurora is goddess of the dawn. 3. On May Day morning,

it was the custom

to

9. To “smell of the lamp” is a proverbial expression for a laborious and uninspired literary pro-

gather whitethorn blossoms and trim the house with them.

duction.

4. Flora, Italian goddess of flowers, had her fes-

1. Apollo, the sun god; sunbeams are seen as his flowing locks.

tival in the spring.

CORINNA'S

GOING

A-MAYING

|

1311

Fear not; the leaves will strew Gems in abundance upon you; Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Against® you come, some orient pearls” unwept;

Come and receive them while the light Hangs on the dew-locks of the night, And Titan® on the eastern hill Retires himself, or else stands still Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying: Few beads® are best when once we go a-Maying.

until

the sun

Come, my Corinna, come; and, coming, mark

30

40

How each field turns® a street, each street a park Made green and trimmed with trees; see how Devotion gives each house a bough Or branch: each porch, each door ere this, An ark, a tabernacle is,’ Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove, As if here were those cooler shades of love. Can such delights be in the street And open fields, and we not see ’t? Come, we'll abroad; and let’s obey The proclamation’ made for May, And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; But, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.

turns into

There’s not a budding boy or girl this day But is got up and gone to bring in May; A deal of youth, ere this, is come Back, and with whitethorn laden, home.

Some have dispatched their cakes and cream Before that we have left to dream; 50

Va wi

60

And some have wept, and wooed, and plighted troth,’ And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth. Many a green gown! has been given, Many a kiss, both odd and even;? Many a glance, too, has been sent From out the eye, love’s firmament;° Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks picked; yet we're not a-Maying.

sky

Come, let us go while we are in our prime, And take the harmless folly of the time. We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty.

5. Pearls from the Orient were especially lus-

“Ye shall take you on the first day the boughs of

trous, like drops of dew.

goodly trees .. .”).

6. Rosary beads of the “old” Catholic religion, but more generally, a casual term for prayers. 7. The doorways, ornamented with whitethorn, are like the Hebrew Ark of the Covenant or the sanctuary that housed it (Leviticus 23.40—42:

8. Probably a reference to Charles I’s “Declaration to his subjects concerning lawful sports.” 9. Engaged themselves to marry. 1. Got by rolling in the grass. 2. Kisses are odd and even in kissing games.

1312

|

ROBERT

HERRICK

Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the sun; And, as a vapor or a drop of rain, Once lost, can ne’er be found again,

65

So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade, All love, all liking, all delight

70

Lies drowned with us in endless night.? Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still? a-flying;! And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying. s

always

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first, 10

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.

vi

Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry.

The Hock Cart,! or Harvest Home to the Right Honorable Mildmay, Earl of Westmoreland Come, sons of summer, by whose toil We are the lords of wine and oil;?

By whose tough labors and rough hands We rip up first, then reap our lands. 3. Some echoes of the apocryphal book Wisdom of Solomon 2.1—8: “For the ungodly said... the breath of our nostrils is as smoke, and a little spark... and our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud. . . Come on therefore . . . Let us crown ourselves with rose buds before they be withered.” This carpe diem sentiment is a frequent theme in classical love poetry. 1. Translates the Latin tempus fugit.

1. The last cart carrying home the harvest; hence the occasion for a rural festival, traditional throughout Europe. Mildmay Fane, earl of Westmoreland

(1628—1660), was one of

Herrick’s

patrons.

2. Wine and oil are the yields of Mediterranean farming, connecting the English harvest festival to classical pastoral.

THE

vi

HOCK

CART,

OR

HARVEST

Crowned with the ears of corn,? now come

And, to the pipe, sing harvest home. Come forth, my lord, and see the cart Dressed up with all the country art. 10

See here a maukin,° there a sheet, As spotless pure as it is sweet,

HOME

|

133

grain

scarecrow

The horses, mares, and frisking fillies Clad all in linen, white as lilies, The harvest swains°® and wenches bound For joy to see the hock-cart crowned. About the cart, hear how the rout

young men

Of rural younglings raise the shout, Pressing before, some coming after,

Those with a shout and these with laughter. Some bless the cart, some kiss the sheaves,

te JI

Some prank® them up with oaken leaves; Some cross the fill-horse,* some with great Devotion stroke the home-borne wheat; While other rustics, less attent To prayers than to merriment, Run after with their breeches rent. Well, on, brave boys, to your lord’s hearth,

adorn

Glittering with fire; where, for your mirth,

30

Ye shall see first the large and chief Foundation of your feast, fat beef; With upper stories, mutton, veal, And bacon,? which makes full the meal, With several dishes standing by,

pork

As here a custard, there a pie,

And here all-tempting frumenty.° pudding And for to make the merry cheer, sparkli / lacking If smirking® wine be wanting? here, ng There’s that which drowns all care, stout beer: Which freely drink to your lord’s health, Then to the plow (the common-wealth), 40

Next to your flails, your fans,* your vats, Then to the maids with wheaten hats, To the rough sickle and crook’d scythe, Drink, frolic boys, till all be blithe.

Feed, and grow fat; and, as ye eat, Be mindful that the lab’ring neat,° As you, may have their fill of meat.’ And know, besides, ye must revoke®

The And And And

cattle call back

patient ox unto his yoke, all go back unto the plow harrow, though they’re hanged up now. you must know, your lord’s word’s true,

3. The fill-horse is harnessed between the shafts of the cart. Crossing the horse and kissing the sheaves suggest the persistence of preReformation rituals in the countryside. 4. “Flails” are threshing instruments; “fans” are used to winnow grain from chaff. The plow is the

common source of everybody's wealth. In line with the anti-Puritan sentiments of the whole poem, the word “commonwealth,” in this communal and earthy sense, invites a contrast with Puritan republican theories. 5. Food (grain or hay).

13104

|

ROBERT

HERRICK

Feed him ye must whose food fills you, And that this pleasure is like rain,

Not sent ye for to drown your pain But for to make it spring again.°

vi wi

How Roses Came Red! Roses at first were white, Till they could not agree, Whether my Sappho’s breast, Or they more white should be. vw

But being vanquished quite, A blush their cheeks bespread; Since which (believe the rest) The roses first came red.

Upon the Nipples of Julia’s Breast Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced)

5

Within a lily center-placed? Or ever marked? the pretty beam A strawberry shows half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient® too? So like to this, nay all the rest,

10

observed

iridescent

Is each neat niplet of her breast.

Upon Jack and Jill. Epigram?

VI

When Jill complains to Jack for want of meat, Jack kisses Jill, and bids her freely eat. Jill says, Of what? Says Jack, On that sweet kiss, Which full of nectar and ambrosia is, The food of poets. So I thought, says Jill; That makes them look so lank, so ghost-like still.

Let poets feed on air or what they will; Let me feed full till that I fart, says Jill.

6. Spring is heralded by rain, but the lines also point to the continual renewal of the agricultural worker's pain and labor. 1. This poem

and several others in the collec-

tion present minitransformations in witty allusion to Ovid's epiclike Metamorphoses. 2. Cf. Jonson, “On Giles and Joan,” pp. 1091-92.

THE

BAD

SEASON

MAKES

THE

POET

SAD

|

Fesyt WS)

To Marigolds? Give way, an° ye be ravished by the sun, And hang the head whenas the act is done.

if

Spread as he spreads; wax less as he does wane,

And as he shuts, close up to maids? again.

virgins

His Prayer to Ben Jonson When I a verse shall make,

Know I have prayed thee, For old religion’s sake,’ Saint Ben to aid me. ui

10

Make the way smooth for me When I, thy Herrick, Honoring thee, on my knee, Offer my lyric. Candles I'll give to thee And a new altar; And thou Saint Ben shalt be

Writ in my psalter.

The Bad Season Makes the Poet Sad® Dull to myself and almost dead to these My many fresh and fragrant mistresses, Lost to all music now, since every thing Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing. Ww

Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure

More dangerous faintings by her desperate cure. But if that golden age would come again, And Charles here rule as he before did reign, If smooth and unperplexed the seasons were, 10

As when the sweet Maria lived here,

I should delight to have my curls half drowned In Tyrian dews,° and head with roses crowned, And once more yet (ere I am laid out dead)

Knock at a star with my exalted head.’ 3. The English pot marigold closes its flowers at dusk. 4. Herrick plays on the fact that Jonson was for a while a Catholic (of the “old religion”), as well as a saint in the mock religion of poetry. 5. The bad season is evidently political, not meteorological. Line 10 refers to Charles's queen, Henrietta

Maria,

so the poem

must

have been

written after 1644, when she was forced to retire

to France. 6. Perfume from Tyre was one of many Middle Eastern luxuries proverbial in Roman times. 7. The last line translates literally the last line of Horace’s first ode, to his patron, Maecenas. Herrick hopes once more to have enlightened readers and an enlightened patron, so that he can feel something of Horace’s exaltation.

1316

|

ROBERT

HERRICK

The Night-Piece, to Julia Her eyes the glowworm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee;

And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

Ww

No Will-o’th’-Wisp mislight thee,® Nor snake or slowworm’ bite thee;

adder

10

But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.

is

What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light Like tapers clear without number.

20

Then, Thus, And Thy My soul

Let not the dark thee cumber;

Julia, let me thus to come when I shall silv’ry feet, I'll pour into

woo thee, unto me: meet

thee.

Upon His Verses What offspring other men have got, The how, where, when I question not. These are the children I have left;

Adopted some, none got by theft. Pil

But all are touched (like lawful plate)? And no verse illegitimate.

His Return to London

s

From the dull confines of the drooping west,! To see the day spring from the pregnant east, Ravished in spirit, |come, nay more, I fly To thee, blest place of my nativity! Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground

8. Will-o’-the-wisp traditionally draws travelers astray with false lights.

color of the smear revealed its purity.

left

9. A special variety of quartz,

1. Devonshire,

his parish,

known

as basa-

nite, was used to test gold and silver objects; the

was located.

where

on

the

touchstone Dean

Prior,

TO

HIS

BOOK'S

END

|

137

With thousand blessings by thy fortune crowned. O fruitful Genius!? that bestowest here An everlasting plenty, year by year. O place! O people! Manners! framed to please All nations, customs, kindreds, languages! I am a free-born Roman;? suffer then

That I amongst you live a citizen. London my home is, though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment; Yet since called back, henceforward let me be,

O native country, repossessed by thee! For, rather than I'll to the west return,

I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn. Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall; 20

Give thou my sacred relics burial.

1647?

Upon Julia’s Clothes Whenas in silks my Julia goes,°

walks

Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows

That liquefaction of her clothes.

wi

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave® vibration each way free, Oh, how that glittering taketh me!

splendid

Upon Prue, His Maid* In this little urn is laid Prudence Baldwin, once my maid, From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

To His Book’s End? To his book’s end this last line he’d have placed: Jocund?® his muse was, but his life was chaste. merry, sprightly

2. In classical Rome, the genius of a place was its guardian deity. 3. Anancient Roman born in the city was said to be “free of it,” i.e ., entitled to its special rights

and privileges, including residence there. 4. This is an odd epitaph, since Prudence Baldwin died four years after Herrick. 5. The last poem of Hesperides.

Heats

|

THOMAS

CAREW

FrRom NoBLe NUMBERS

To His Conscience! Can I not sin, but thou wilt be My private protonotary?*

ui

10

is

Can I not woo thee to pass by A short and sweet iniquity? I'll cast a mist and cloud upon My delicate transgression So utter dark as that no eye Shall see the hugged® impiety. Gifts blind the wise,’ and bribes do please And wind? all other witnesses: And wilt not thou with gold be tied To lay thy pen and ink aside? That in the mirk® and tongueless night Wanton I may, and thou not write?

cherished pervert

black, murky

It will not be; and therefore now For times to come Ill make this vow,

From aberrations to live free, So I'll not fear the Judge, or thee.

Another Grace for a Child Here a little child I stand,

Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks® though they be, Here | lift them up to thee,

5

Fora benison’® to fall

frogs .

blessing

On our meat and on us all. Amen. 1. This and the following poem are from Noble Numbers, the collection of Herrick’s religious poems that was bound together with Hesperides.

2. Chief recording clerk of a court. 3. Echoes Deuteronomy 16.19: “a gift doth blind the eyes of the wise.”

THOMAS CAREW 1595-1640

homas Carew (pronounced Carey) is perhaps the Cavalier poet with the greatest range and complexity. He gained his B.A. at Merton College, Oxford, studied law (his father’s profession), held several minor positions in the diplomatic and court bureaucracy, fought for his king in the ill-fated expedition against the Scots

AN

ELEGY

UPON

THE

DEATH

OF

DONNE

|

bs ilk)

(the First Bishops’ War, 1639), and died of syphilis. A brilliant, dissolute young man, he was a favorite with Charles I and Henrietta Maria. His Poems (1640), published posthumously, are witty and often outrageous, but their emphasis on natural sensuality and the need for union between king and subjects encodes a serious critique of the Neoplatonic artifice of the Caroline court. Carew’s spectacular court masque, Coelum Britannicum, performed at the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall on February 18, 1633, was based on a philosophical dialogue by Giordano Bruno. It combines a dramatization of serious social and political problems in the antimasque with wildly hyperbolic praise of the monarchs in the main masque. As a love poet Carew sometimes plays off Donnean situations

and poems; elsewhere, as in “Ask me no more where Jove bestows,” he imitates Jon-

son’s most purely lyric vein. But his characteristic note is one of frank sexuality and emotional realism. “The Rapture,” probably the most erotic poem of the era, describes the sexual act under the sustained metaphor of a voyage. He also wrote country-house poems that, unlike Jonson’s “To Penshurst,” describe Saxham and Wrest as places of refuge from the mounting dangers outside their gates. Carew’s poems

of literary criticism provide astute commentary on contemporary authors.

“To Ben Jonson” evaluates Jonson with Jonsonian precision and judiciousness in weighing out praise and blame. His famous “Elegy” on Donne praises Donne’s innovation, avoidance of classical tags, “giant fancy,” and especially his tough masculinity of style, a feature Carew imitates in this poem’s energetic runover couplets, quick changes of rhythms and images, and vigorous “strong lines.”

An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of Paul’s, Dr. John Donne!

s

10

Can we not force from widowed poetry, Now thou art dead, great Donne, one elegy To crown thy hearse? Why yet dare we not trust, Though with unkneaded dough-baked? prose, thy dust, Such as the unscissored* churchman from the flower Of fading rhetoric, short-lived as his hour, Dry as the sand that measures it,* should lay Upon thy ashes on the funeral day? Have we no voice, no tune? Didst thou dispense® lay out, use up Through all our language both the words and sense? "Tis a sad truth. The pulpit may her plain And sober Christian precepts still retain; Doctrines it may, and wholesome uses,° frame, Grave homilies and lectures; but the flame

is

customs

Of thy brave soul, that shot such heat and light As burnt our earth and made our darkness bright, Committed holy rapes upon our will, Did through the eye the melting heart distill, And the deep knowledge of dark truths so teach

1. First appearing with a number of other elegies in the 1633 edition of Donne’s poems, then reprinted in 1640 with some changes, Carew’s tribute is notable among 17th-century poems on poetry for its technical precision.

2. Le., tedious and flat. 3. With uncut hair. 4, The hourglass was used by preachers to keep track of time.

1320

|

20

THOMAS

CAREW

As sense might judge what fancy could not reach,” Must be desired® forever. So the fire

25

30

missed

That fills with spirit and heat the Delphic choir,® Which, kindled first by thy Promethean’ breath, Glowed here a while, lies quenched now in thy death. ‘The Muses’ garden, with pedantic weeds O’erspread, was purged by thee; the lazy seeds Of servile imitation thrown away, And fresh invention planted; thou didst pay The debts of our penurious bankrupt age— Licentious thefts, that make poetic rage A mimic fury, when our souls must be

Possessed or with Anacreon’s ecstasy, Or Pindar’s,® not their own. The subtle cheat

35

Of sly exchanges, and the juggling feat Of two-edged words,’ or whatsoever wrong By ours was done the Greek or Latin tongue, Thou hast redeemed, and opened us a mine

40

4s

so

55

Of rich and pregnant fancy, drawn a line Of masculine expression, which had good Old Orpheus! seen, or all the ancient brood Our superstitious fools admire, and hold Their lead more precious than thy burnished gold, Thou hadst been their exchequer,°? and no more They in each other’s dust had raked for ore. Thou shalt yield no precedence but of time And the blind fate of language, whose tuned chime® More charms the outward sense; yet thou mayest claim From so great disadvantage greater fame, Since to the awe of thy imperious wit Our stubborn language bends, made only fit With her tough thick-ribbed hoops to gird about Thy giant fancy, which had proved too stout For their soft melting phrases. As in time They had the start, so did they cull the prime Buds of invention many a hundred year,

treasury

rhyme

And left the rifled fields, besides the fear

To touch their harvest; yet from those bare lands Of what is purely thine, thy only hands (And that thy smallest work) have gleanéd more

60

Than all those times and tongues could reap before. But thou art gone, and thy strict laws will be Too hard for libertines in poetry. They will repeal® the goodly exiled train recall from Of gods and goddesses, which in thy just reign

5. Le., so that things too abstract to be imagined might be made plain to sense. 6. The choir of poets, inspired by Apollo, whose oracle was at Delphi. 7. Prometheus stole fire from heaven to aid humankind. 8. Anacreon

(6th and Sth centuries

B.c.£.) and

Pindar (first half of the 5th century B.c.E.) were

banishment

famous Greek lyric poets. 9. “Sly exchanges”: Carew seems to refer to the habit of using English words in their Latin senses. “Two-edged words” might be puns, but these were a favorite device of Donne's. 1. Ancient Greek poet and prophet, often used as the type ofall poets.

TO

65

70

BEN

Were banished nobler poems; now with these The silenced tales 0’ th’ Metamorphoses? Shall stuff their lines and swell the windy page Till verse, refined by thee in this last age, Turn ballad-rhyme, or those old idols be Adored again with new apostasy. O pardon me, that break with untuned verse The reverend silence that attends thy hearse,

JONSON

1321

)

Whose awful? solemn murmurs were to thee,

~I vi

|

More than these faint lines, a loud elegy, That did proclaim in a dumb eloquence

awesome

The death of all of the arts, whose influence,

so

ss

90

95

Grown feeble, in these panting numbers? lies Gasping short-winded accents, and so dies: So doth the swiftly turning wheel not stand In th’ instant we withdraw the moving hand, But some small time maintain a faint weak course By virtue of the first impulsive force; And so whilst I cast on thy funeral pile Thy crown of bays,° oh, let it crack awhile And spit disdain, till the devouring flashes Suck all the moisture up; then turn to ashes. I will not draw the envy to engross All thy perfections, or weep all our loss; Those are too numerous for an elegy, And this too great to be expressed by me. Though every pen should take a distinct part, Yet art thou theme enough to tire? all art.? Let others carve the rest; it shall suffice I on thy tomb this epitaph incise:

verses

poet's laurel crown

exhaust

Here lies a king, that ruled as he thought fit The universal monarchy of wit; Here lie two flamens,* and both those the best: Apollo's first, at last the true God's priest. 1633, 1640

To Ben Jonson Upon occasion of his Ode of Defiance annexed to his play of The New Inn! "Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand Hath fixed upon the sotted age a brand To their swoll’n pride and empty scribbling due. 2. Ovid’s tales in the Metamorphoses were a favorite stockpile of poetic properties for Renaissance poets, but Donne did not use them.

3. This line and the preceding one were omitted in the 1640 edition. 4. Priests of ancient Rome: Donne was first a priest of Apollo, the pagan god of poetry, and

later a Christian priest. 1. Jonson's late play The New Inn was hissed from the stage in 1629 and published in 1631 with an angry “Ode to Himself” (pp. 1108—09) prefixed. Carew’s remonstration must have been written shortly thereafter.

ls) 7272

s

|

THOMAS

CAREW

It can nor judge nor write; and yet ’tis true Thy comic Muse from the exalted line Touched by thy Alchemist? doth since decline From that her zenith, and foretells a red

10

And blushing evening when she goes to bed— Yet such as shall outshine the glimmering light With which all stars shall gild the following night. Nor think it much (since all thy eaglets may Endure the sunny trial)? if we say, This hath the stronger wing, or that doth shine Tricked up in fairer plumes, since all are thine.

is

20

NR ei

30

35

Who hath his flock of cackling geese compared With thy tuned choir of swans? Or who hath dared To call thy births deformed? But if thou bind By city-custom, or by gavelkind,* In equal shares thy love to all thy race, We may distinguish of their sex and place: Though one hand shape them and though one brain strike Souls into all, they are not all alike. Why should the follies then of this dull age Draw from thy pen such an immodest rage As seems to blast thy else-immortal bays,° poet's laurel crown When thine own tongue proclaims thy itch of praise? Such thirst will argue drought. No, let be hurled Upon thy works by the detracting world What malice can suggest; let the rout® say rabble The running sands that, ere thou make a play, Count the slow minutes might a Goodwin frame? To swallow when th’ hast done thy shipwrecked name. Let them the dear® expense of oil upbraid,° extravagant / scold Sucked by thy watchful lamp that hath betrayed To theft the blood of martyred authors, spilt Into thy ink, while thou growest pale with guilt.° Repine® not at the taper’s thrifty waste, fret That sleeks thy terser poems; nor is haste Praise, but excuse; and if thou overcome

40

45

A knotty writer, bring the booty home; Nor think it theft if the rich spoils so torn From conquered authors be as trophies worn. Let others glut on the extorted praise Of vulgar breath: trust thou to after days. Thy labored works shall live when Time devours Th’ abortive offspring of their hasty hours. Thou art not of their rank, the quarrel lies

2. Jonson’s play (1610) about three confidence tricksters, 3. To make sure the young birds in his nest are genuine eaglets, the eagle is reputed to fly with them up toward the sun; true eagles will not be blinded by the rays. 4, “City-custom” (i.e., London City custom) and “gavelkind” (a system of land tenure once common in Kent) were two legal ways of dividing an estate equally among all the heirs—as opposed

to the normal English rule of primogeniture (everything to the eldest son). 5. Goodwin Sands were shoals in the Strait of Dover, shifty and treacherous, on which many ships were lost. Jonson’s slowness in composition was proverbial. 6. The other great charge against Jonson was that he copied or translated too liberally from other authors.

TO

30

SAXHAM

1323

Within thine own verge’—then let this suffice, The wiser world doth greater thee confess Than all men else, than thy self only less.

Carlos!

1640

A Song! Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose;

For in your beauties orient® deep,

lustrous

These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.’

Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask The For She

me no more whither doth haste nightingale when May is past; in your sweet dividing’ throat winters, and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars light, That downwards fall in dead of night; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixéd become, as in their sphere.

Ask The For And

20

me no more if east or west phoenix builds her spicy nest;+ unto you at last she flies, in your fragrant bosom dies. 1640

To Saxham! Though frost and snow locked from mine eyes That beauty which without door lies, Thy gardens, orchards, walks, that so

7. I.e., within your own

territory, against your-

self. Duels cannot properly take place between two men of different rank, and as Jonson is out of everyone else’s class, he can fight only himself. 1. Widely popular and several times set to music, this poem exists in different forms. Like Donne’s “Go and catch a falling star” (pp. 924-25), it is built around a series of impossibilities. 2. Aristotelian philosophy suggested that objects often lay latent in their causes. The lady is a

summation of last summer and cause of the next

one. 3. Warbling (from “division,” or rapid melodic passage). 4. The phoenix, a legendary bird, builds her nest

from spicy shrubs. She dies every five hundred years and a new bird springs from her ashes. 1. Little Saxham,

near Bury Saint Edmunds

in

Suffolk, was the country residence of Sir John Crofts, a friend of Carew’s. Compare Jonson's “To Penshurst” (pp. 1096—98).

1324

|

THOMAS

CAREW

I might not all thy pleasures know, Yet, Saxham, thou within thy gate Art of thyself so delicate, So full of native sweets, that bless

Thy roof with inward happiness, As neither from nor to thy store Winter takes aught, or spring adds more. The cold and frozen air had starved°® Much poor, if not by thee preserved, Whose prayers have made thy table blest With plenty, far above the rest. The season hardly did afford Coarse cates® unto thy neighbors’ board,

killed

food

Yet thou hadst dainties, as the sky

Had been thy only volary;° Or else the birds, fearing the snow Might to another Deluge? grow, The pheasant, partridge, and the lark Flew to thy house, as to the Ark. The willing ox of himself came

aviary

Home to the slaughter, with the lamb, iS)wy

And every beast did thither bring Himself, to be an offering. The scaly herd more pleasure took Bathed in thy dish, than in the brook; Water, earth, air did all conspire

30

40

45

To pay their tributes to thy fire; Whose cherishing flames themselves divide Through every room, where they deride The night and cold abroad; whilst they, Like suns within, keep endless day. Those cheerful beams send forth their light To all that wander in the night, And seem to beckon from aloof The weary pilgrim to thy roof, Where, if refreshed, he will away, He’s fairly welcome; or if stay,

Far more; which he shall hearty find Both from the master and the hind.° The stranger’s welcome each man there Stamped on his cheerful brow doth wear, Nor doth this welcome or his cheer Grow less ‘cause he stays longer here; There’s none observes, much less repines,

50

How often this man sups or dines. Thou hast no porter at the door T’examine or keep back the poor, Nor locks nor bolts: thy gates have been Made only to let strangers in; Untaught to shut, they do not fear

2. Noah’s Flood (Genesis 7).

servant

A

RAPTURE

|

1325

To stand wide open all the year, vt vi

Careless who enters, for they know Thou never didst deserve a foe;

And as for thieves, thy bounty’s such, They cannot steal, thou giv’st so much.

A Rapture

wi

I will enjoy thee now, my Celia, come And fly with me to love’s Elysium.! The giant, Honor, that keeps cowards out, Is but a masquer,° and the servile rout® Of baser subjects only bend in vain To the vast idol, whilst the nobler train®

Of valiant lovers daily sail between The huge Colossus’ legs,” and pass unseen

actor / rabble procession

Unto the blissful shore. Be bold and wise,

And we shall enter; the grim Swiss? denies Only tame fools a passage, that not know He is but form and only frights in show The duller eyes that look from far; draw near,

20

And thou shalt scorn what we were wont? to fear. We shall see how the stalking pageant? goes With borrowed legs, a heavy load to those That made and bear him—not as we once thought The seed of gods, but a weak model wrought By greedy men, that seek to enclose the common, And within private arms empale free woman.’

used

Come then, and mounted on the wings of love,

We'll cut the flitting air and soar above The monster’s head, and in the noblest seats

Of those blessed shades, quench and renew our heats. tw uw

30

There shall the queens of love and innocence,

Beauty and nature banish all offense From our close ivy twines, there I'll behold Thy baréd snow and thy unbraided gold. There my enfranchised hand on every side Shall o’er thy naked polished ivory slide. No curtain there, though of transparent lawn,° Shall be before thy virgin treasure drawn, But the rich mine to the inquiring eye Exposed, shall ready still° for mintage lie,

1. In classical mythology, the abode of the blessed spirits.

2. Tradition had it that the ancient Colossus of Rhodes bestrode the entrance to that harbor, so

that ships entering or leaving passed between its legs. 3. The pope’s Swiss Guard were renowned for their height.

fine linen

always

4. Figure in a pageant, make-believe giant. 5. To “empale” is to surround with a fence, but the

word has phallic overtones as well. The “enclosing” for landowners’ private use of pastureland traditionally open to the whole community (“the commons”) was a political issue in 17th-century England.

1326

35

40

45

50

|

THOMAS

CAREW

And we will coin young Cupids.®° There a bed Of roses and fresh myrtles shall be spread Under the cooler shade of cypress groves; Our pillows, of the down of Venus’ doves,’ Whereon our panting limbs we'll gently lay In the faint respites of our active play, That so our slumbers may in dreams have leisure To tell the nimble fancy our past pleasure, And so our souls that cannot be embraced Shall the embraces of our bodies taste. Meanwhile the bubbling stream shall court the shore, Th’ enamored chirping wood-choir shall adore In varied tunes the deity of love; The gentle blasts of western winds shall move The trembling leaves, and through their close boughs breathe Still® music, while we rest ourselves beneath

soft

Their dancing shade; till a soft murmur, sent From souls entranced in amorous languishment Rouse us, and shoot into our veins fresh fire an wi

60

65

70

vi

so

Till we in their sweet ecstasy expire. Then, as the empty bee, that lately bore Into the common treasure all her store, Flies ‘bout the painted field with nimble wing, Deflowering the fresh virgins of the spring, So will I rifle all the sweets that dwell In my delicious paradise, and swell My bag with honey, drawn forth by the power Of fervent kisses from each spicy flower. I'll seize the rosebuds in their perfumed bed, The violet knots, like curious mazes spread Over all the garden, taste the ripened cherry, The warm, firm apple, tipped with coral berry. Then will I visit with a wandering kiss The vale of lilies and the bower of bliss, And where the beauteous region both divide Into two milky ways, my lips shall slide Down those smooth alleys, wearing as I go A track°® for lovers on the printed snow. Thence climbing o’er the swelling Apennine, Retire into thy grove of eglantine,° Where I will all those ravished sweets distill Through love’s alembic,* and with chemic skill From the mixed mass one sovereign balm? derive, Then bring that great elixir to thy hive. Now in more subtle wreaths I will entwine My sinewy thighs, my legs and arms with thine; Thou like a sea of milk shalt lie displayed,

6. Behind this metaphor of mine, mint, and coin

lies the ancient belief that in the creation of chil-

dren woman

contributes matter, and man, form

(materia and forma). 7. Venus rides in a chariot drawn by a yoke of doves.

path sweetbriar

8. L.e., retort—a vessel used for distilling.

9. According to alchemical doctrine, skilled distillation could extract from common

metals not

only the philosopher's stone but an ointment (“sovereign balm”), good to prevent as well as to cure all diseases whatever.

A

90

RAPTURE

Whilst I the smooth, calm océan invade With such a tempest as when Jove of old Fell down on Danaé in a storm of gold.! Yet my tall pine shall in the Cyprian? strait Ride safe at anchor and unlade her freight; My rudder with thy bold hand like a tried And skillful pilot thou shalt steer, and guide My bark° into love's channel, where it shall Dance as the bounding waves do rise or fall. Then shall thy circling arms embrace and clip® My naked body, and thy balmy lip Bathe me in juice of kisses, whose perfume Like a religious incense shall consume And send up holy vapors to those powers That bless our loves and crown our sportful hours, That with such halcyon? calmness fix our souls In steadfast peace, as no affright controls.

Noir

vessel

clasp

overpowers

There no rude sounds shake us with sudden starts, 100

|

No jealous ears, when we unrip our hearts, Suck our discourse in, no observing spies This blush, that glance traduce;° no envious eyes Watch our close meetings, nor are we betrayed To rivals by the bribed chambermaid. No wedlock bonds unwreathe our twisted loves, We seek no midnight arbor, no dark groves To hide our kisses; there the hated name

slander

Of husband, wife, lust, modest, chaste, or shame 110

Are vain and empty words, whose very sound Was never heard in the Elysian ground. All things are lawful there that may delight Nature or unrestrainéd appetite.

Like and enjoy, to will and act is one; We only sin when love's rites are not done. The Roman Lucrece there reads the divine Lectures of love’s great master, Aretine,

120

And knows as well as Lais how to move Her pliant body in the act of love.* To quench the burning ravisher, she hurls Her limbs into a thousand winding curls, And studies artful postures, such as be Carved on the bark of every neighboring tree By learnéd hands, that so adorned the rind

Of those fair plants, which, as they lay entwined Have fanned their glowing fires. The Grecian dame That in her endless web toiled for a name As fruitless as her work doth there display 1. Zeus

(or Jove) wooed

Danaé

in a shower

of

gold, begetting Perseus. 2. Cyprus was reputed the birthplace of the goddess of love, Venus, sometimes called simply “the Cyprian.” “Pine”: mast, and by metonymy, ship. 3. While the halcyon (a legendary sea _bird) nests on the waves, the ocean remains calm.

4. In

Elysium,

Lucrece

(chastest

of

Roman

matrons, who committed suicide to atone for the disgrace of her rape by Tarquin) reads Aretino (bawdiest of Italian pornographers) to provoke her attacker to new efforts. Lais was a famous prostitute of Corinth.

1328

|

THOMAS

CAREW

Herself before the youth of Ithaca,

130

And th’ amorous sport of gamesome nights prefer Before dull dreams of the lost traveler.’ Daphne hath broke her bark, and that swift foot Which th’ angry gods had fastened with a root To the fixed earth, doth now unfettered run

135

To meet th’ embraces of the youthful sun.° She hangs upon him like his Delphic lyre,’ Her kisses blow the old and breathe new fire;

Full of her god, she sings inspired lays, Sweet odes of love, such as deserve the bays 140

Which she herself was.® Next her, Laura lies In Petrarch’s learned arms, drying those eyes

That did in such sweet smooth-paced numbers? flow,

verses

As made the world enamored of his woe.? These and ten thousand beauties more, that died Slave to the tyrant, now enlarged,' deride

145

130

iss

His canceled laws, and for their time misspent Pay into love’s exchequer® double rent. Come then, my Celia, we'll no more forbear To taste our joys, struck with a panic fear, But will depose from his imperious sway This proud usurper and walk free as they, With necks unyoked; nor is it just that he Should fetter your soft sex with chastity, Which Nature made unapt for abstinence; When yet this false impostor can dispense With human justice and with sacred right, And maugre® both their laws, command me fight

treasury

in spite of

With rivals or with emulous loves, that dare

160

165

Equal with thine their mistress’ eyes or hair. If thou complain of wrong, and call my sword To carve out thy revenge, upon that word He? bids me fight and kill, or else he brands With marks of infamy my coward hands. And yet religion bids from bloodshed fly, And damns me for that act. Then tell me why ‘This goblin Honor which the world adores Should make men atheists and not women whores.

i.e., Honor

1640

5. Penelope was the faithful wife of Odysseus (“the lost traveler”); during the twenty years he was away (at Troy and on the way back), she fended off her importunate suitors by weaving an endless web—she unwove by night what she wove by day—which she said she had to finish before she could marry again. But in Elysium, she welcomes “the youth of Ithaca” (the suitors) and enjoys “gamesome nights” with them. 6. Closely pursued by Apollo, god of poetry and the sun, Daphne cried out to her father, the river god Peneus, who turned her into a laurel bush or

bay tree so that she could get away from Apollo.

7. The shrine of Apollo was at Delphi; he carries a lyre as an emblem of poetic harmony. 8. The songs she sings deserve the laurel crown

of poetry—the laurel she had become. 9. Petrarch sonnet

(1304-1374)

sequence

wrote

to Laura,

isfied desire in the first in the second. 1. The inhabitants of (“enlarged”) from the Honor, in which woman must fight duels.

his celebrated

mourning

his unsat-

part, and Laura’s death Elysium are liberated prison of “the tyrant” must be chaste and men

RICHARD LOVELACE 1618-1657

he quintessential Cavalier, Richard Lovelace was described by a contemporary as “the most amiable and beautiful person that ever eye beheld.” Born into a

wealthy Kentish family, he was educated at Oxford and fought for Charles I in Scotland (in both expeditions, 1639 and 1640). He shared with his king a serious interest

in art, especially the paintings of Rubens, Van Dyck, and Lely. He was imprisoned for a few months in 1642 for supporting the “Kentish Petition” that urged restoration of the king to his ancient rights; in “To Althea, from Prison,” he finds freedom from external bondage in the Cavalier ideals of women, wine, and royalism. During 1643-46 he fought in Holland and France and in the king’s armies in England and was wounded abroad. In a general roundup of known royalists in 1648 he was imprisoned for ten months, and while in prison prepared his poems for publication under the title Lucasta (1649). Besides witty and charming love songs, the volume includes the plaintive ballad about the conflict between love and honor, “To Lucasta, Going to the Wars,” and also “The Grasshopper,” a poem that presents the Cavalier ideal at its most attractive. Like that emblematic summer creature, the once-carefree Cavalier suffers in the Puritan “winter,” but Lovelace finds in the fellowship of Cavalier friends a nobler version of the good life. After 1649 he endured years of poverty, largely dependent on the generosity of his friend and fellow royalist, Charles Cotton. His remaining poems appeared in 1659 as Lucasta: Postume Poems.

FrRom LUCASTA

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. Ww

True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield.

10

Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more. 1649

1329

1330

|

RIGHARDSELONVEBAE E

The Grasshopper' To My Noble Friend, Mr. Charles Cotton O thou that swing’st upon the waving hair head ofgrain

Of some well-filléd oaten beard,°

Drunk every night with a delicious tear Dropped thee from heav’n, where now th’ art reared, ut

10

The joys of earth and air are thine entire, That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly; And when thy poppy° works thou dost retire To thy carved acorn bed to lie.

opiate

Up with the day, the sun thou welcom’st then, Sport’st in the gilt-plats° of his beams, And all these merry days mak’st merry men, Thyself, and melancholy streams.?

golden fields

But ah, the sickle! golden ears are cropped,

is

20

Ceres and Bacchus? bid goodnight; Sharp frosty fingers all your flow’rs have topped, And what scythes spared, winds shave off quite. Poor verdant fool! and now green ice! thy joys, Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass, Bid us lay in ’gainst winter rain, and poise® Their floods with an o’erflowing glass.

counterbalance

Thou best of men and friends! we will create

A genuine summer in each other’s breast; And spite of this cold time and frozen fate Thaw

iS)wi

30

us a warm

seat to our rest.

Our sacred hearths shall burn eternally As vestal flames;* the North Wind, he Shall strike his frost-stretched wings, dissolve, and fly This Etna in epitome.?

Dropping December shall come weeping in, Bewail th’ usurping of his reign; But when in showers of old Greek we begin,

Shall cry, he hath his crown again!® 1. In Aesop's Fables the grasshopper lives in carefree idleness, in contrast with the industrious ant who lays up stores for the winter. The circumstances of the poem are those of the Interregnum, when a winter of Puritanism seemed, to royalists, to be settling over England and obliterating their mode of life. The grasshopper may also allude to the recently executed king, Charles I. 2. The three objects of “mak’st merry” are “men,” “thyself,” and “melancholy streams.”

3. Goddess of grain and god of wine. 4. The Vestal Virgins, in Rome, were responsible for tending an eternal flame in the Temple of Vesta. 5. Boreas, the north wind, folding up (“striking”) his wings, flees the heat of the voleano within

Mount Etna, a figure for the fires of friendship. 6. Greek wine was favored in the classical world. “Crown” here has multiple associations: the crown worn by “King Christmas” at the festivities banned by Puritans; and the crown Cavaliers hoped would soon be restored to Charles II.

TO

35

40

ALTHEA,

FROM

Night as clear Hesper® shall our tapers whip From the light casements where we play, And the dark hag’ from her black mantle strip, And stick there everlasting day.

Thus richer than untempted kings’are we, That asking nothing, nothing need: Though lord of all that seas embrace, yet he That wants° himself is poor indeed.

PRISON

|

1331

the evening star

lacks 1649

To Althea, from Prison

Pil

10

When Love with unconfinéd wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The gods! that wanton’ in the air Know no such liberty.

play

When flowing cups run swiftly round, With no allaying Thames,’ Our careless heads with roses bound,

is

Our hearts with loyal flames; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and drafts go free, Fishes that tipple in the deep Know no such liberty. When, like committed linnets,° [

caged finches

With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty,

20

And glories of my king; When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, Enlargéd winds, that curl the flood,

Know no such liberty. tw Wa

Stone walls do not a prison make,

30

Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage. If Ihave freedom in my love, And in my soul am free,

7. Hecate, a daughter of Night.

2. No mixture of water (as from the river Thames)

1. Some versions read “birds” instead of “gods.”

in the wine.

[33:2

|

RICHARD

LOVELACE

Angels alone, that soar above,

Enjoy such liberty. 1649

Love Made in the First Age.' To Chloris In the nativity of time, Chloris, it was not thought a crime In direct Hebrew for to woo.” Now we make love as all on fire, vi

Ring retrograde? our loud desire, And court in English backward too. Thrice happy was that golden age, When compliment was construed rage,*

i0

And fine words in the center hid; When curséd No stained no maid’s bliss, And all discourse was summed in Yes,

And naught forbade, but to forbid.

15

Love then unstinted, love did sip, And cherries plucked fresh from the lip, On cheeks and roses free he fed; Lasses like autumn plums did drop, And lads indifferently° did crop

without preference

A flower and a maidenhead.

20

Then unconfinéd each did tipple Wine from the bunch, milk from the nipple; . Paps tractable as udders were; Then equally the wholesome jellies Were squeezed from olive trees and bellies, Nor suits of trespass did they fear.

i) wi)

A fragrant bank of strawberries, Diapered® with violet’s eyes,

decorated, dappled

Was table, tablecloth, and fare; No palace to the clouds did swell,

30

Each humble princess then did dwell In the piazza® of her hair. Both broken faith and th’ cause of it, All-damning gold, was damned to th’ pit;

1. The Golden Age, described in Ovid's Metamorphoses. 2.> Hebrew, supposed to be the original human language, is read from right to left; we have reversed this. a Backwards,

in reverse.

The

term

also

has

musical connotations, perhaps referring here to a pattern of bell ringing. 4. Passion. Compliments in the Golden Age were understood as ardent propositions. 5. Arcade, hence an artful structure.

KATHERINE

35

PHILIPS

|

13:33

Their troth, sealed with a clasp and kiss, Lasted until that extreme day In which they smiled their souls away, And, in each other, breathed new bliss.

Because no fault, there was no tear;

40

45

No groan did grate the granting ear, No false foul breath their del’cate smell: No serpent kiss poisoned the taste, Each touch was naturally chaste, And their mere sense a miracle.

Naked as their own innocence, And unembroidered from offense® They went, above poor riches, gay; On softer than the cygnet’s® down, In beds they tumbled of their own; For each within the other lay.

young swan

Thus did they live; thus did they love,

50

vi ut

Repeating only joys above; And angels were, but with clothes on, Which they would put off cheerfully, To bathe them in the galaxy,° Then gird them with the heavenly zone.’ Now, Chloris, miserably crave®

the Milky Way

heg

The offered bliss you would not have, Which evermore I must deny, Whilst ravished with these noble dreams And crownéd with mine own soft beams,

60

Enjoying of my selfI lie. 1659

6. l.e., not ornamented to hide an offense.

7. The zodiac ofstars.

KATHERINE PHILIPS 1632-1664

he best-known woman poet of her own and the next generation, Katherine Philips was honored as “the Matchless Orinda,” the classical name she chose for herself in her poetic addresses to a coterie of chiefly female friends, especially Mary Aubrey (M. A.) and Anne Owen (Lucasia). Sometimes reminiscent of Donne’s love lyrics and sometimes of the ancient Greek Sappho’s erotic lyrics to women,

1334

|

KATHERINE

PHILIPS

these poems develop an exalted ideal of female friendship as a Platonic union of souls. Born to a well-to-do Presbyterian family and educated at Mrs. Salmon’s Presbyterian School, Philips was taken to Wales when her mother remarried. In 1648, at age seventeen, she was married to James Philips, a prominent member of Parliament. They lived together twelve years, chiefly in the small Welsh town of Cardigan, and had two children: Hector, whose death a few days after birth prompted one of her most moving poems, and Katherine, who lived to adulthood. A royalist despite her Puritan family connections, Philips forged connections with other displaced royalists. Her poems circulated in manuscript and elicited high praise from Vaughan in Olor Iscanus. They include elegies, epitaphs, poems at parting, and friendship poems to women and men, but also poetry on political themes: a denunciation of the regicide, “Upon the Double Murder of King Charles,” and panegyrics on the restored Stuarts. After the Restoration, James Philips barely escaped execution as a regicide, had his estates confiscated, and lost his seat in Parliament, but Katherine became a favorite at court, promoted by her friend Sir Charles Cotterell (“Poliarchus”), who

was master of ceremonies. In Ireland attempting (unsuccessfully) to redeem an investment, she translated Corneille’s Pompey and her friend the Earl of Orrery produced and printed it in Dublin in 1663. The first edition of her poems, apparently pirated, appeared in 1664, the same year she died of smallpox. Her friend Cotterell brought out an authorized edition in 1667.

A Married State! A married state affords but little ease The best of husbands are so hard to please. This in wives’ careful° faces you may spell°® _full of cares / read Though they dissemble their misfortunes well. 5

10

15

A virgin state is crowned with much content;

It’s always happy as it’s innocent. No blustering husbands to create your fears; No pangs of childbirth to extort your tears; No children’s cries for to offend your ears; Few worldly crosses to distract your prayers: Thus are you freed from all the cares that do Attend on matrimony and a husband too. Therefore Madam, be advised by me Turn, turn apostate to love's levity, Suppress wild nature if she dare rebel. There’s no such thing as leading apes in hell.3

ca. 1646

1. Ina manuscript (Orielton MSS Box 24 at the National Library of Wales) this poem appears with another by Philips, addressed to Anne Barlow (whom she probably met in 1646); this one is probably also for Barlow. Both are signed by her

Ms; 1988

maiden name, C. Fowler, so were evidently written before her marriage in 1648, 2. Praise of the single life is a common topic in women’s poetry. 3. Proverbially, the fate of spinsters.

135

Upon the Double Murder of King Charles In Answer to a Libelous Rhyme made by V. P.' I think not on the state, nor am concerned

ua

Which way soever that great helm? is turned, But as that son whose father’s danger nigh Did force his native dumbness, and untie His fettered organs: so here is a cause That will excuse the breach of nature’s laws. Silence were now a sin: nay passion now

10

Wise men themselves for merit would allow.4 What noble eye could see (and careless pass) The dying lion kicked by every ass? Hath Charles so broke God’s laws, he must not have A quiet crown, nor yet a quiet grave? Tombs have been sanctuaries; thieves lie here

15

Secure from all their penalty and fear. Great Charles his double misery was this,

20

Had any heathen been this prince’s foe, He would have wept to see him injured so. His title was his crime, they'd reason good To quarrel at the right they had withstood.

i) ut

And what shall then become of thee and I? Slander must follow treason; but yet stay, Take not our reason with our king away. Though you have seized upon all our defense,

Unfaithful friends, ignoble enemies;

He broke God’s laws, and therefore he must die,

Yet do not sequester® our common

sense.

But I admire® not at this new supply: No bounds will hold those who at scepters fly.

confiscate wonder

Christ will be King, but I ne’er understood,

30

His subjects built his kingdom up with blood (Except their own) or that he would dispense

With his commands, though for his own defense. Oh! to what height of horror are they come Who dare pull down a crown, tear up a tomb!> 1649?

1. The itinerant Welsh preacher Vavasour Powell was a Fifth Monarchist and an ardent republican who justified the regicide on the ground that Christ’s second coming was imminent, when he would rule with his saints, putting down all earthly kings. His poem and Philips’s answer were likely written shortly after Charles I’s execution (January 30, 1649), Powell’s poem has been published by Elizabeth H. Hageman in English Manuscript Studies.

1664

2. Steering wheel for the “ships” of state. 3. Breaking the supposed law of nature that excludes women from speaking about public affairs. 4, Wise men, especially Stoic philosophers, normally counsel the firm control or elimination of passions.

5. Their slanders tear up Charles's tomb after his death.

1336

|

KATHERINE

PHILIPS

Friendship’s Mystery, To My Dearest Lucasia! i Come, my Lucasia, since we see

That miracles men’s faith do move,

5

By wonder and by prodigy To the dull angry world let’s prove There’s a religion in our love. 2

10

For though we were designed t’ agree, That fate no liberty destroys, But our election is as free As angels, who with greedy choice Are yet determined to their joys.” 3 Our hearts are doubled by the loss, Here mixture is addition grown; We both diffuse,° and both engross:°

spread out / collect

And we whose minds are so much one,

15

Never, yet ever are alone. 4 We court our own captivity Than thrones more great and innocent: "Twere banishment to be set free,

20

Since we wear fetters whose intent Not bondage is, but ornament. 5

Divided joys are tedious found, And griefs united easier grow: We are selves but by rebound, And all our titles shuffled so,

25

Both princes, and both subjects too.* 6

Our hearts are mutual victims laid, While they (such power in friendship lies) 1. This poem was first printed, with a musical setting by the royalist musician and composer Henry Lawes, as “Mutual Affection betweene Orinda and Lucasia” in Lawes’s The Second Book of Ayres (1655); our text is from Poems by the Most Deservedly Admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the Matchless Orinda (1667). Lucasia is

Philips’s name for her friend Anne Owen. 2. Angels, though created with free will, were thought to have become fixed in goodness when they turned toward God in the first moments after their creation. 3. Compare Donne, “The Sun Rising”, line 21; “She is all states, and all princes, I” (p. 926)

TO

MRS.

M.

A.

AT

PARTING

|

Ll See ir

Are altars, priests, and off’rings made: And each heart which

30

thus kindly® dies,

Grows deathless by the sacrifice.

benevolently, naturally

1655, 1664

To Mrs. M. A.! at Parting

5

I have examined and do find, Of all that favor me There’s none I grieve to leave behind But only only thee. To part with thee I needs must die, Could parting separate thee and I. But neither chance nor compliment Did element our love:

"Twas sacred sympathy was lent 10

Us from the choir above.

(That friendship fortune did create, Still fears a wound from time or fate.)

Our changed and mingled souls are grown To such acquaintance now, is.

That if each would resume their own,

Alas! we know not how. We have each other so engrossed°® That each is in the union lost.?

absorbed

And thus we can no absence know,

20

25

30

Nor shall we be confined; Our active souls will daily go To learn each other’s mind. Nay, should we never meet to sense,° Our souls would hold intelligence.°

physically would still commune

Inspiréd with a flame divine, I scorn to court a stay;? For from that noble soul of thine I ne'er can be away. But I shall weep when thou dost grieve; Nor can I die whilst thou dost live.

By my own temper I shall guess At thy felicity, 1. M. A. was Mary Aubrey, the first and, until she married, the dearest member of Philips’s “Society of Friendship.” Orinda’s valedictory poem to her—which Keats admired enough to copy it out in full in an early letter—recalls some of Donne’s lyrics, especially “A Valediction: For-

bidding Mourning” (pp. 935-36). 2. These lines play upon the Neoplatonic idea of friendship and spiritual love—two souls become one. 3. Postponement (of their parting).

KATHERINE

35

PHILIPS

And only like my happiness Because it pleaseth thee. Our hearts at any time will tell If thou or I be sick or well. All honor, sure, | must pretend,°

40

4s

All that is good or great: She that would be Rosania’s* friend Must be at least complete. If I have any bravery,° "Tis cause I have so much of thee. Thy leiger® soul in me shall lie, And all thy thoughts reveal; Then back again with mine shall fly,

aspire to

splendor

ambassadorial

And thence to me shall steal. Thus still to one another tend: Such is the sacred name of friend.

Thus our twin souls in one shall grow, 50

And teach the world new love,

Redeem the age and sex, and show A flame fate dares not move: And courting death to be our friend, Our lives, together too, shall end. vi I

A dew shall dwell upon our tomb

Of such a quality That fighting armies, thither come, Shall reconciléd be.

We'll ask no epitaph, but say: 60

ORINDA and ROSANIA. 1664

On the Death of My First and Dearest Child, Hector Philips! Twice forty months in wedlock? I did stay, Then had my vows crowned with a lovely boy. And yet in forty days* he dropped away; O swift vicissitude of human joy!

s

I did but see him, and he disappeared, I did but touch the rosebud, and it fell;

4. The poetic name Philips gave to Mary Aubrey. 1. In Philips’s manuscript the subtitle reads, “born the 23d of April, and died the 2d of May 1655. Set by Mr. Lawes.” The musical setting has been published by Joan Applegate in English

Manuscript Studies. 2. Philips was married in August 1648. 3. The subtitle indicates that he lived barely ten days; the change here is clearly for the parallel-

ism.

ANDREW

MARVELL

A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared, So ill can mortals their afflictions spell.°

10

|

8}8))

discern

And now, sweet babe, what can my trembling heart Suggest to right my doleful fate or thee? Tears are my muse, and sorrow all my art, So piercing groans must be thy elegy. Thus whilst no eye is witness of my moan, I grieve thy loss (ah, boy too dear to live!),

15

20

And let the unconcernéd world alone, Who neither will, nor can, refreshment give.

An off’ring too for thy sad tomb I have, Too just a tribute to thy early hearse. Receive these gasping numbers to thy grave, The last of thy unhappy mother’s verse.4

1655

1667

4. This was not in fact Philips’s last poem, but the sentiment is both true to human feeling and common in elegy. She had one other child, a year later—a daughter, Katherine, who survived her.

ANDREW

MARVELL

1621-1678

ndrew Marvell’s finest poems are second to none in this or any other period. He wrote less than Donne, Jonson, and Herbert did, but his range was in some

ways greater, as he claimed both the private worlds of love and religion and the public worlds of political and satiric poetry and prose. His overriding concern with art, his elegant, well-crafted, limpid style, and the cool balance and reserve of some

poems align him with Jonson. Yet his paradoxes and complexities of tone, his use of dramatic monologue, and his witty, dialectical arguments associate him with Donne. Above all, he is a supremely original poet, so complex and elusive that it is often hard to know what he really thought about the subjects he treated. Many of his poems were published posthumously in 1681, some thirty years after they were written, by a woman who claimed to be his widow but was probably his housekeeper. So their date and order of composition is often in doubt, as is his authorship of some anonymous works. The son of aChurch of England clergyman, Marvell grew up in Yorkshire, attended Trinity College, Cambridge (perhaps deriving the persistent strain of Neoplatonism in his poetry from the academics known as the Cambridge Platonists), ran off to London, and converted to Roman Catholicism until his father put an end to both ventures. He returned to Cambridge, took his degree in 1639, and stayed on as a scholar until his father’s death in 1641. During the years of the civil wars (1642-48), he traveled in France, Italy, Holland, and Spain; much later he said of the Puritan “Good

1340

|

ANDREW

MARVELL

Old Cause” that it was “too good to have been fought for.” While his earliest poems associate him with royalists, those after 1649 celebrate the Commonwealth and Oliver Cromwell; although he is sometimes ambivalent, Marvell recognizes divine providence in the political changes. From 1650 to 1652 he lived at Nunappleton as tutor to the twelve-year-old daughter of Thomas Fairfax, who had given over his command of the parliamentary army to Cromwell because he was unwilling to invade Scotland. In these years of retirement and ease, Marvell probably wrote most of his love lyrics and pastorals as well as Upon Appleton House. Subsequently he was tutor to Cromwell’s ward, William Dutton, and traveled with him on the Continent; in 1657 he joined the blind Milton, at Milton’s request, in the post of

Latin secretary to Cromwell’s Council of State. Marvell accepted the Restoration but maintained his own independent vision and his abiding belief in religious toleration, a mixed state, and constitutional government. He helped his friend Milton avoid execution for his revolutionary polemics and helped negotiate Milton’s release from a brief imprisonment. Elected a member of Parliament in 1659 from his hometown, Hull, in Yorkshire, he held that post until 1678, focusing his attention on the needs of his district; on two occasions he went on diplomatic missions—to Holland

and Russia. His (necessarily anonymous) antiroyalist polemics of these years include several verse satires on Charles II and his ministers, as well as his best-known prose work, The Rehearsal Transprosed (1672-73), which defends Puritan dissenters and

denounces censorship with verve and wit. He also wrote a brilliant poem of criticism and interpretation on Milton’s Paradise Lost that was prefixed to the second edition (1674).

Many of Marvell’s poems explore the human condition in terms of fundamental dichotomies that resist resolution. In religious or philosophical poems like “The Coronet” or “The Dialogue Between the Soul and Body,” the conflict is between nature and grace, or body and soul, or poetic creation and sacrifice. In love poems such as “The Definition of Love” or “To His Coy Mistress,” it is often between flesh and spirit, or physical sex and platonic love, or idealizing courtship and the ravages of time. In pastorals like the Mower poems and “The Garden,” the opposition is between nature and art, or the fallen and the Edenic state, or violent passion and

contentment. Marvell’s most subtle and complex political poem, “An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell’s

Return

from Ireland,” sets stable traditional order and ancient

right against providential revolutionary change, and the goods and costs of retirement and peace against those of action and war. Upon Appleton House also opposes the attractions of various kinds of retirement to the duties of action and reformation. Marvell experimented with style and genre to striking effect. Many of his dramatic monologues are voiced by named, naive personas—the Mower, the Nymph— who stand at some remove from the author. “To His Coy Mistress,” perhaps the best known of the century’s carpe diem poems, is voiced by a witty and urbane speaker in balanced and artful couplets. But its rapid shifts from the world of fantasy to the charnel house of reality raise questions as to whether this is a clever seduction poem or a probing of existential angst, and whether Marvell intends to endorse or critique this speaker’s view of passion and sex. In Upon Appleton House Marvell transforms the static, mythic features of Jonson’s country-house poem “To Penshurst” to create a poem that incorporates history and the conflicts of contemporary society. It assimilates to the course of providential history the topographical features of the Fairfax estate, the Fairfax family myth of origin, the experiences of the poet-tutor on his progress around the estate, and the activities and projected future of the daughter of the house. In the poem’s rich symbolism, biblical events—Eden, the first temptation, the Fall, the wilderness experience of the Israelites—find echoes

in the experiences of the Fairfax family, the speaker, the history of the English Reformation, and the wanton destruction of the recent civil wars.

BERMUDAS

|

1341

FRom Poems!

The Coronet?

vi

10

15

When for the thorns with which I long, too long, With many a piercing wound, My Savior’s head have crowned, I seek with garlands to redress that wrong, Through every garden, every mead, I gather flowers (my fruits are only flowers), Dismantling all the fragrant towers°® That once adorned my shepherdess’s head: And now, when I have summed up all my store, Thinking (so I myself deceive) So rich a chaplet® thence to weave As never yet the King of Glory wore, Alas! I find the serpent old,* That, twining? in his speckled breast, About the flowers disguised does fold With wreaths of fame and interest.4

high headdress

wreath

entwining

Ah, foolish man, that wouldst debase with them,

20

And mortal glory, heaven's diadem! But thou who only couldst the serpent tame, Either his slippery knots at once untie, And disentangle all his winding snare, Or shatter too with him my curious frame,°

elaborate construction

And let these wither, so that he may die,

25

Though set with skill and chosen out with care; That they, while thou on both their spoils dost tread,° May crown thy feet, that could not crown thy head.

1650—52

1681

Bermudas! Where the In th’ ocean’s From a small The listening

5

remote Bermudas ride bosom unespied, boat that rowed along, winds received this song:

“What should we do but sing His praise That led us through the wat’ry maze

1. Marvell’s lyrics were published posthumously in 1681.

2. A floral wreath, also a garland of poems of praise.

3. Alludes to the serpent that tempted Eve (Genesis 3), traditionally understood to be an instru-

that the seed of Eve will bruise his head. 1. Otherwise known as the Summer Isles, the Bermudas were described in travel books like John Smith’s The General History of Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles (1624) as an

ment for Satan. 4. Self-glorification, self-advancement.

Edenic paradise. The poem was probably written after 1653, when Marvell took up residence in the house of John Oxenbridge, who had twice

5. See the curse on the serpent (Genesis 3.15),

visited the Bermudas.

1342

|

ANDREW

MARVELL

Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? Where He the huge sea monsters wracks,” That lift the deep upon their backs; He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storms, and prelate’s rage.’ He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels everything, And sends the fowls to us in care,

On daily visits through the air; He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus* shows; He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet; But apples® plants of such a price,

pineapples

No tree could ever bear them twice;

With cedars, chosen by his hand

i) vi

From Lebanon, he stores the land;

And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris’ on shore; He cast (of which we rather® boast)

more properly

The gospel’s pearl upon our coast, And in these rocks for us did frame A temple, where to sound his name. O let our voice his praise exalt

30

Till it arrive at heaven’s vault,

Which, thence (perhaps) rebounding, may Echo beyond the Mexique Bay.”°

35

Gulf of Mexico

Thus sung they in the English boat An holy and a cheerful note; And all the way, to guide their chime,

With falling oars they kept the time.

40

Cas l6D 052

1681

A Dialogue Between the Soul and Body! souL

QO, who shall from this dungeon raise A soul enslaved so many ways? With bolts of bones, that fettered stands

2. Probably an allusion to the event described in Edmund Waller's mock epic, a battle between the Bermudans and two stranded whales. 3. The Puritan settlers in Bermuda have escaped both the dangers of the sea voyage and religious

persecution at home. 4. Hormuz, a pearl- and jewel-trading center in the Persian Gulf,

5. A substance found in sperm whales that was

used in the manufacture of expensive perfume. 1. The poem

derives from the medieval debat

(debate) on this theme but alters the usual end-

ing, which gives a clear victory to the soul. 2. The soul echoes Romans 7.24: “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” ;

A

DIALOGUE

BETWEEN

THE

SOUL

AND

BODY

|

1343

In feet, and manacled in hands. Here blinded with an eye, and there Deaf with the drumming of an ear; A soul hung up, as 'twere, in chains

wi

Of nerves, and arteries, and veins;

Tortured, besides each other part, In a vain head and double heart.

10

BoDY

O, who shall me deliver whole From bonds of this tyrannic soul? Which, stretched upright, impales me so That mine own precipice’ I go; And warms and moves this needless°® frame without needs (A fever could but do the same), And, wanting where’ its spite to try, lacking an object

15

Has made me live to let me die. A body that could never rest Since this ill spirit it possessed.

20 souL

What magic could me thus confine Within another's grief to pine? Where, whatsoever it complain,’

suffer, complain of

I feel, that cannot feel,* the pain;

25

And all my care itself employs, That to preserve which me destroys; Constrained not only to endure Diseases, but, what's worse, the cure;

And, ready oft the port to gain, Am shipwrecked into health again.

30 BoDy

35

But physic® yet could never reach The maladies thou me dost teach: Whom first the cramp of hope does tear, And then the palsy shakes of fear; The pestilence of love does heat, Or hatred’s hidden ulcer eat; Joy’s cheerful madness does perplex,

medicine

Or sorrow’s other madness vex;

40

Which knowledge forces me to know, And memory will not forego. What but a soul could have the wit To build me up for sin so fit? So architects do square and hew Green trees that in the forest grew.

ca. 1650=52

3. Having a soul allows humans and so face the danger of falling.

1681

to walk erect

4. The soul can sympathize (“feel”) though has no power of physical sensation.

it

1344

|

ANDREW

MARVELL

The Nymph Complaining for the Death of Her Fawn!

s

The wanton troopers? riding by Have shot my fawn, and it will die. Ungentle men! They cannot thrive To kill thee. Thou ne’er didst alive Them any harm; alas, nor could Thy death yet do them any good. I’m sure I never wished them ill, Nor do I for all this, nor will: But if my simple prayers may yet

10

Prevail with heaven to forget Thy murder, I will join my tears Rather than fail. But, O my fears! It cannot die so. Heaven’s king Keeps register of everything,

is

And nothing may we use in vain.

Even beasts must be with justice slain, Else men are made their deodands.? Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm lifeblood, which doth part 20

From thine, and wound me to the heart,

Yet could they not be clean; their stain Is dyed in such a purple grain. There is not such another in The world to offer for their sin. 25

Unconstant Sylvio, when yet

I had not found him counterfeit,° One morning (I remember well), Tied in this silver chain and bell, Gave it to me; nay, and I know

30

35

false, deceitful

What he said then, I’m sure I do. Said he, Look how your huntsman here Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear. But Sylvio soon had me beguiled; This waxéd tame, while he grew wild, And quite regardless of my smart, Left me his fawn, but took his heart.4

Thenceforth I set myself to play My solitary time away With this; and very well content

40

Could so mine idle life have spent.

1. The lament for the death of a pet is an ancient topic dating back to Catullus and Ovid; the closest analogue may be Virgil's story of Sylvia’s deer killed wantonly by the Trojans (Aeneid 7.475ff). John Skelton has a mock-heroic poem on “Philip Sparrow.” There are also echoes of the Song of Songs, which have prompted critical debate as to whether Marvell uses them with serious allegorical import or the nymph uses them quite inappropriately.

2. Soldiers of the invading Scots army were called “troopers” (ca. 1640), as were, sometimes, soldiers of Cromwell's New Model Army. 3. In English law, animals or objects forfeited to the Crown (literally, to God) because they were the immediate cause of a human being’s death.

The nymph applies the term to persons who cause the death of animals. 4. A pun: heart/hart (a deer); line 32 also puns on dear/deer.

THE

NYMPH

COMPLAINING

FOR

THE

DEATH

OF

HER

For it was full of sport, and light Of foot and heart, and did invite

45

50

Me to its game. It seemed to bless Itselfinme; how could I less Than love it? O I cannot be Unkind t’ a beast that loveth me. Had it lived long, I do not know Whether it too might have done so As Sylvio did; his gifts might be Perhaps as false or more than he. But I am sure, for aught that I

55

60

65

Could in so short a time espy, Thy love was far more better than The love of false and cruel men. With sweetest milk and sugar first I it at mine own fingers nursed. And as it grew, so every day It waxed more sweet and white than they. It had so sweet a breath! and oft I blushed to see its foot more soft And white—shall I say than my hand?— Nay, any lady’s of the land. It is a wondrous thing how fleet "Twas on those little silver feet, With what a pretty skipping grace It oft would challenge me the race; And when it had left me far away,

"Twould stay, and run again, and stay. For it was nimbler much than hinds,’ 70

And trod, as on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own But so with roses overgrown

And lilies that you would it guess To be a little wilderness. And all the springtime of the year It only loved to be there. Among the beds of lilies, I Have sought it oft where it should lie, Yet could not, till itself would rise, 80

85

Find it, although before mine eyes. For in the flaxen lilies’ shade It like a bank of lilies laid. Upon the roses it would feed, Until its lips ev’n seemed to bleed; And then to me ’twould boldly trip And print those roses on my lip. But all its chief delight was still On roses thus itself to fill,

90

5. L.e., full-grown deer.

And its pure virgin limbs to fold In whitest sheets of lilies cold.

FAWN

1345

1346

|

ANDREW

100

MARVELL

Had it lived long, it would have been Lilies without, roses within. O help! O help! I see it faint, And die as calmly as a saint. See how it weeps.° The tears do come Sad, slowly dropping like a gum. So weeps the wounded balsam, so The holy frankincense doth flow.’ The brotherless Heliades Melt in such amber tears as these.® I in a golden vial will Keep these two crystal tears, and fill It till it do o’erflow with mine,

105

Then place it in Diana’s shrine.’ Now my sweet fawn is vanished to Whither the swans and turtles® go,

turtledoves

In fair Elysium! to endure With milk-white lambs and ermines pure. O do not run too fast, for I 110

120

ca.

Will but bespeak° thy grave, and die. First my unhappy statue shall Be cut in marble, and withal, Let it be weeping too; but there Th’ engraver sure his art may spare, For I so truly thee bemoan That I shall weep, though I be stone:? Until my tears, still dropping, wear My breast, themselves engraving there. There at my feet shalt thou be laid, Of purest alabaster made; For I would have thine image be White as I can, though not as thee.

give orders for

1681

1650—52

To His Coy Mistress

I

Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide

6. Deer were supposed to weep as they died. 7. Both balsam

and frankincense

are fragrant

resins obtained a drop at a time from trees with holes bored in them. 8. The three daughters of the sun (Helios), grieving the death of their rash brother Phaéthon, were transformed to black poplar trees dropping “tears”

of amber. 9, Diana was the goddess of chastity and woodland creatures; nymphs were her attendants. 1. The Elysian fields, a pagan version of heaven. 2. Niobe, lamenting the death of her many children,

in whom

turned to stone.

she took inordinate

pride, was

TOT

i0

20

25

30

|

1347

Of Humber would complain.! I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews.2 My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires,

15

HUSMECOVEMISMRES'S

and more

slow;

An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast,

But thirty thousand to the rest: An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state,° Nor would I love at lower rate. But at my back I always hear Time's wingéd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long-preserved virginity, And your quaint? honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust: The grave’s a fine and private place,

dignity

But none, I think, do there embrace.

35

Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew,?* And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires,” Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey,

40

4s

Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapped® power. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough? the iron gates of life:” Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.®

ca. 1650—52

1. The exotic river Ganges in India is on one side of the world, the Humber flows past Marvell’s city, Hull, on the opposite side. Complaints are poems of plaintive, unavailing love. 2. Popular belief had it that the Jews were to be

converted just before the Last Judgment. The exaggerated offers in this stanza play off against conventional hyperbolic declarations of love in Petrarchan poetry. 3. “Quaint” puns on “out of date” and queynte, a term for the female genitals.

through

1681

4. The text reads “glew,” which could be correct, but “dew” is a common emendation. 5. Urgent, sudden enthusiasm. “Transpires”: breathes forth. 6. Slowly devouring jaws. 7. One manuscript reads “grates,” a somewhat different figure for the sexual act proposed. 8. The sun stood still for Joshua (Joshua 10.12) in his war against Gibeon; see the very different resolution in Donne's “The Sun Rising” (p. 926).

1348

|

ANDREW

MARVELL

The Definition of Love My Love is of a birth as rare As ’tis, for object, strange and high; It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility. Magnanimous Despair alone

Could show me so divine a thing, Where feeble Hope could ne’er have flown But vainly flapped its tinsel wing. And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul is fixed;! But Fate does iron wedges drive,

And always crowds itself betwixt. For Fate with jealous eye does see

Two perfect loves, nor lets them close;°

unite

Their union would her ruin be,

And her tyrannic power depose.” And therefore her decrees of steel Us as the distant poles have placed (Though Love’s whole world on us doth wheel),*

Not by themselves to be embraced, Unless the giddy heaven fall, And earth some new convulsion tear, And, us to join, the world should all

Be cramped into a planisphere.* As lines, so loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet;> But ours, so truly parallel,

Though infinite, can never meet. Therefore the Love which us doth bind, 30

But Fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the mind, And opposition of the stars.°

ca. 1650—52

1. The soul has extended itself from the speaker’s body and fixed itself to his lover. 2. Two perfections, united, would not be subject to change and thereby to Fate. 3. Rotates as on its axis. 4. A two-dimensional map of the world; Marvell

images a round globe collapsed into a flat pancake shape, top to bottom, which would bring the two

1681

poles together. 5. Oblique lines can touch in angles, as might “oblique” lovers that (in one meaning of the term) “deviate from right conduct or thought.” 6. “Conjunction” is the coming together of two heavenly bodies in the same

sign of the zodiac;

“opposition” places them at diametrical opposites.

1349

The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers! See with what simplicity This nymph begins her golden days! In the green grass she loves to lie, And there with her fair aspect tames The wilder flowers and gives them names, But only with the roses plays, And them does tell What color best becomes them and what smell.

Who can foretell for what high cause This darling of the gods was born? Yet this is she whose chaster laws The wanton Love shall one day fear, And under her command severe See his bow broke and ensigns? torn. Happy who can Appease this virtuous enemy of man! O then let me in time compound? And parley with those conquering eyes Ere they have tried their force to wound, Ere with their glancing wheels they drive In triumph over hearts that strive And them that yield but more despise: Let me be laid Where I may see thy glories from some shade.

flags, pennants

come

to terms

Meantime, whilst every verdant thing Itself does at thy beauty charm, Reform the errors of the spring; Make that the tulips may have share Of sweetness, seeing they are fair; 30

And roses of their thorns disarm: But most procure That violets may a longer age endure.

But O, young beauty of the woods, Whom

Nature courts with fruit and flowers,

Gather the flowers but spare the buds, Lest Flora,’ angry at thy crime To kill her infants in their prime, Do quickly make th’ example yours; And ere we see, 40

Nip in the blossom all our hopes and thee. 1681

ca. 1650—52

1. The little girl, T. C., has not been identified with any certainty. “Prospect”: landscape.

2. Roman goddess of flowers.

1350

|

ANDREW

MARVELL

The Mower Against Gardens! Luxurious® man, to bring his vice in use,”

voluptuous

Did after him the world seduce, And from the fields the flowers and plants allure, Where Nature was most plain and pure. wa

He first enclosed within the garden’s square A dead and standing pool of air, And a more luscious earth for them did knead,

10

Which stupefied them while it fed. The pink grew then as double as his mind;? The nutriment did change the kind. With strange perfumes he did the roses taint; And flowers themselves were taught to paint. The tulip white did for complexion seek, And learned to interline its cheek;

is

Its onion root they then so high did hold, That one was for a meadow sold;* Another world was searched through oceans new, To find the marvel of Peru;?

20

And yet these rarities might be allowed To man, that sovereign thing and proud, Had he not dealt between the bark and tree,° Forbidden mixtures there to see. No plant now knew the stock from which it came;

25

30

35

He grafts upon the wild the tame, That the uncertain and adult’rate fruit Might put the palate in dispute. His green seraglio’ has its eunuchs too, Lest any tyrant him outdo; And in the cherry he does Nature vex, To procreate without a sex.® ‘Tis all enforced, the fountain and the grot,° While the sweet fields do lie forgot, Where willing Nature does to all dispense A wild and fragrant innocence; And fauns and fairies do the meadows till More by their presence than their skill. Their statues polished by some ancient hand May to adorn the gardens stand;

1. The four “Mower” poems are linked by their treatment of a distinctly unusual pastoral figure, a mower

rather

than

a shepherd

or goatherd,

who provides a singular perspective on those familiar pastoral topics, nature versus art and nature's sympathy for man (the pathetic fallacy). As mower wielding a scythe, he evokes other fig-

ures (Time, Death). 2. Into common practice. 3. The double pink, or carnation, is a product of sophisticated (“double”) minds.

grotto

4. A highly lucrative trade in Dutch tulip bulbs flourished during the 17th century, 5. Mirabilis jalapa, the four-o'clock, was an exotic,

multicolored flower found originally in tropical America.

6. An adage for interfering between husband and wife, in reference, apparently, to grafting. 7. Enclosure, a harem in a sultan’s palace. 8. Cherries were commonly propagated by graft-

ing.

DAMON

THE

MOWER

13'S

But, howsoe’er the figures do excel, The gods themselves with us do dwell.

40

Canl650=52

1681

Damon the Mower Hark how the mower Damon sung, With love of Juliana stung! While everything did seem to paint The scene more fit for his complaint. Like her fair eyes the day was fair, But scorching like his amorous care; Sharp, like his scythe, his sorrow was, And withered, like his hopes, the grass.

“Oh what unusual heats are here,

Which thus our sunburned meadows sear! The grasshopper its pipe gives o'er, And hamstringed® frogs can dance no more: But in the brook the green frog wades, And grasshoppers seek out the shades. Only the snake, that kept within, Now glitters in its second skin.

disabled

“This heat the sun could never raise,

Nor Dog Star so inflame the days;? It from an higher beauty grow’th, 20

25

Which burns the fields and mower both; Which mads the dog, and makes the sun Hotter than his own Phaéton.* Not July causeth these extremes, But Juliana’s scorching beams.

“Tell me where I may pass the fires Of the hot day or hot desires, To what cool cave shall I descend,

Or to what gelid® fountain bend?

icy

Alas! I look for ease in vain, 30

When remedies themselves complain: No moisture but my tears do rest,

No cold but in her icy breast.

1. Damon is a familiar classical name in pastoral; Juliana gets her name from July (lines 23— 24). 2. The plaintive love song of an unrequited lover. 3. The Dog Star (Sirius in the constellation Canis Major) rises with the sun in late summer, producing the heats of “dog days.”

4. Phaéthon, son of Helios, the sun god of Greek

mythology; he tried to drive his father’s chariot but let the horses run away and scorched the world, 5. I.e., fountain and cave themselves complain of unusual heat.

P3S2

|

ANDREW

35

40

MARVELL

“How long wilt thou, fair shepherdess, Esteem me and my presents less? To thee the harmless snake I bring, Disarméd of its teeth and sting: To thee chameleons, changing hue, And oak leaves tipped with honeydew; Yet thou, ungrateful, hast not sought Nor what they are, nor who them brought. “IT am the mower Damon, known Through all the meadows I have mown. On me the morn her dew distills Before her darling daffodils,

45

And if at noon my toil me heat,

The sun himself licks off my sweat; While, going home, the evening sweet In cowslip-water bathes my feet. 30

ss

“What though the piping shepherd stock The plains with an unnumbered flock? This scythe of mine discovers® wide More ground than all his sheep do hide. With this the golden fleece I shear Of all these closes every year,° And though in wool more poor than they, Yet | am richer far in hay.

uncovers

“Nor am I so deformed to sight If in my scythe I lookéd right; In which I see my picture done

60

As in a crescent moon the sun. The deathless fairies take me oft To lead them in their dances soft, And when I tune myself to sing, About me they contract their ring.’

65

“How happy might I still have mowed, Had not Love here his thistles sowed! But now I all the day complain, Joining my labor to my pain; And with my scythe cut down the grass, Yet still my grief is where it was; But when the iron blunter grows, Sighing, | whet my scythe and woes.”

70

While thus he threw his elbow round, ~I wi

Depopulating all the ground, And with his whistling scythe does cut Each stroke between the earth and root,

6. Hay is the “wool” of the fields (“closes”). 7. le., the “fairy ring,” a discolored circle of

grass popularly dancing there.

supposed to result from fairies

THE

MOWER'S

SONG

|

ees)

The edgéd steel, by careless chance, Did into his own ankle glance, And there among the grass fell down® By his own scythe the mower mown.

so

“Alas!” said he, “these hurts are slight To those that die by Love’s despite. With shepherd’s purse and clown’s? all-heal? The blood I stanch and wound I seal. Only for him no cure is found Whom Juliana’s eyes do wound. ‘Tis Death alone that this must do; For, Death, thou art a mower too.”

ss

rustic’s

Camlon0=52

1681

The Mower to the Glowworms Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late, And studying all the summer night Her matchless songs does meditate, 5

10

Ye country comets, that portend No war nor prince’s funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the grass’s fall; Ye glowworms, whose officious® flame ‘To wand’ring mowers shows the way, That in the night have lost their aim, And after foolish fires® do stray;

helpful

will-o'-the-wisps

Your courteous fires in vain you waste,

is

Since Juliana here is come, For she my mind hath so displaced That I shall never find my home.

ca. 1650—52

1681

The Mower’s Song My mind was once the true survey Of all these meadows fresh and gay, And in the greenness of the grass

8. Evokes the biblical phrase “All flesh is grass” (Isaiah 40.6).

9. Folk names for popular remedies wounds, found in fields and hedges.

to heal

ANDREW

1354

MARVELL

Did see its hopes! as in a glass;°

mirror

When Juliana came, and she,

wn

What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.* But these, while I with sorrow pine, Grew more luxuriant still and fine,

That not one blade of grass you spied But had a flower on either side;

When Juliana came, and she, What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me. Unthankful meadows, could you so A fellowship so true forego, And in your gaudy May-games 3 meet, While I lay trodden under feet? When Juliana came, and she,

What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me. But what you in compassion ought

Shall now by my revenge be wrought, And flowers, and grass, and I, and all, Will in one common ruin fall;

For Juliana comes, and she, What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.

30

And thus ye meadows, which have been Companions of my thoughts more green, Shall now the heraldry become With which I shall adorn my tomb; For Juliana comes, and she, What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.

ca. 1650—52

1681

The Garden How vainly men themselves amaze°®

bewilder

To win the palm, the oak, or bays,!

wn

And their uncessant labors see Crowned from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow-vergéd® shade Does prudently their toils upbraid;° While all flowers and all trees do close® To weave the garlands of repose!

1. Green is the color of hope. 2. The alexandrine (twelve-syllable line) used here is the only example of a refrain in Marvell. 3. Festivals and merrymaking marked the first

edged reprove unite, agree

of May, May Day. 1. Honors, respectively, for military, civic, and poetic achievement.

THE

GARDEN

|

IS)519

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear?

Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men. Your sacred plants, if here below,° Only among the plants will grow;

on earth

Society is all but rude,

To® this delicious solitude.

compared to

No white nor red? was ever seen

So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress’ name:

Little, alas, they know or heed How far these beauties hers exceed!

Fair trees, wheresoe’er your barks I wound, No name shall but your own be found.? 25

30

When we have run our passion’s heat, Love hither makes his best retreat. The gods, that mortal beauty chase, Still° in a tree did end their race: Apollo hunted Daphne so, Only that she might laurel grow; And Pan did after Syrinx speed, Not as a nymph, but for a reed.*

What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious? peach Into my hands themselves do reach;

always

exquisite

Stumbling on melons? as I pass, 40

Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind

Does straight° its own resemblance find;° Yet it creates, transcending these,

immediately

Far other worlds and other seas,

2. Colors traditionally associated with female beauty. 3. Marvell proposes to carve in the bark of trees not “Sylvia” or “Laura,” but “Beech” and “Oak.”

4. Apollo, the god of poetry, chased Daphne until she turned into a laurel (the emblematic reward of

poets); Pan pursued Syrinx until she became a reed, out of which he made panpipes. The gods’

motives were, of course, sexual, not horticultural.

5. “Melons,” with etymological roots in the Greek word for “apple,” may recall the apple over which all humankind stumbled. 6. As the ocean supposedly contained a counterpart of every creature on land, so the ocean of the mind holds the innate ideas of all things (in

Neoplatonic philosophy).

1315107

7 4]

ANDREW

MARVELL

Annihilating all that’s made To a green thought in a green shade.

50

Here at the fountain’s sliding foot, Or at some fruit tree’s mossy root, Casting the body’s vest° aside, My soul into the boughs does glide:

garment

There like a bird it sits and sings,

Then whets° and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.’

60

preens

Such was that happy garden-state, While man there walked without a mate: After a place so pure and sweet, What other help could yet be meet!® But ’twas beyond a mortal’s share To wander solitary there: Two paradises ’twere in one To live in paradise alone. How well the skillful gardener drew Of flowers and herbs this dial new,’ Where from above the milder sun

Does through a fragrant zodiac run; And as it works, th’ industrious bee 70

Computes its time! as well as we! How could such sweet and wholesome hours Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?

Cawl650=52

1681

An Horatian Ode

Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland! The forward? youth that would appear

eager, ambitious

Must now forsake his Muses dear,

Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing:

7. The multicolored light of this world, contrasted with the white radiance of eternity. 8. Genesis 2.18 recounts the Lord’s decision to make a “help meet” for Adam, Eve. 9. The garden itself is laid out as a sundial. 1. With a pun on “thyme.” 1. Oliver Cromwell, the general primarily responsible for Parliament's victory in the civil war, returned from conquering Ireland in May 1650, about

eighteen

months

after the execution

of

Charles I. The two events were persistently connected; Cromwell’s success in Ireland was taken as a sign of God’s favor to the new republican regime and to Cromwell

as his chosen

instru-

ment. Pindaric odes (like Jonson’s Cary-Morison ode, pp. 1101—05) are heroic and ecstatic; Horatian odes are poems of cool and balanced judgment, as this one is in its representations of Cromwell, Charles I, and the issues of power and providence.

AN

HORATIAN

ODE

|

PSi5)/f

The Execution of Charles I. A German print illustrates the beheading of Charles I before an enormous crowd, on a scaffold erected in front of the Banqueting House. At the top of the picture small portraits of General Fairfax and Cromwell, leaders of the Parliamentary forces, flank a portrait of King Charles, to whom an angel in the clouds is extending a heavenly crown. In the lower right corner, a woman faints.

5s

Tis time to leave the books in dust And oil th’ unuséd armor’s rust,

Removing from the wall The corselet® of the hall.?

10

upper

body armor

So restless Cromwell could not cease In the inglorious arts of peace, But through adventurous war Urged his active star;?

And, like the three-forked lightning, first Breaking the clouds where it was nursed,

15

Did through his own side His fiery way divide:*

2. Here as elsewhere there are allusions to Lucan’s Pharsalia, a poem ofcivil war whose sympathies are with Pompey, Cato, and the Roman Republic against Caesar and the empire. The poem’s allusions to Caesar are most often to Charles I, but sometimes to Cromwell. 3. Normally the stars are thought to control men’s

fates, but Cromwell presses his own star forward. 4. The “three-forked lightning” identifies him with Zeus, suggesting the elemental force by which he surpassed all those in his own party (“side”) of radical Independents; the imagery of giving birth to himself also suggests going Caesar (born by cesarean section) one better.

1358

|

ANDREW

MARVELL

For ’tis all one to courage high, The emulous, or enemy;

20

And with such, to enclose Is more than to oppose.

Then burning through the air he went, And palaces and temples rent; And Caesar's head at last Did through his laurels blast.’ 2s

’Tis madness to resist or blame

The force of angry heaven’s flame; And if we would speak true, Much to the man is due,

30

35

Who from his private gardens, where He lived reserved and austere (As if his highest plot To plant the bergamot),° Could by industrious valor climb To ruin the great work of time, And cast the kingdom old Into another mold; Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain:

40

But those do hold or break, As men are strong or weak. Nature that hateth emptiness,

Allows of penetration less,’ And therefore must make room Where greater spirits come.

4s

What field of all the civil wars Where his were not the deepest scars? And Hampton shows what part He had of wiser art;®

50

Where, twining subtle fears with hope, He wove a net of such a scope

That Charles himself might chase To Caresbrooke’s narrow case, 5. Royal crowns were made of laurel because they were supposed to protect from lightning. 6. A pear-shaped orange (from the Turkish, “prince’s pear’). 7. Nature abhors a vacuum, but even more, the penetration of one body’s space by another body. 8. Charles was confined at Hampton Court after his defeat, as Parliament attempted to negotiate

terms for his restoration. Cromwell was rumored to have connived at his escape to Carisbrooke Castle, on the Isle of Wight, in order to convince Parliament that he could not be trusted and must be executed. Cromwell has shown himself master

of the two “arts” of rule defined by Machiavelli, namely, force and craft.

AN

HORATIAN

ODE

|

SSI)

That thence the royal actor? borne, The tragic scaffold might adorn; While round the arméd bands

7) wi)

Did clap their bloody hands.

60

He nothing common did or mean Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The ax’s edge! did try; Nor called the gods with vulgar spite To vindicate his helpless right; But bowed his comely head Down, as upon a bed.

6s

This was that memorable hour,

Which first assured the forcéd power; So when they did design The Capitol’s first line, 70

A bleeding head where they begun Did fright the architects to run; And yet in that the state Foresaw its happy fate. And now the Irish are ashamed To see themselves in one year tamed; So much one man can do, That does both act and know.

~I wa)

They can affirm his praises best, And have, though overcome, confessed

How good he is, how just, And fit for highest trust.’

80

Nor yet grown stiffer with command, But still in the republic’s hand— How fit he is to sway, That can so well obey.*

9. The theater metaphors used for Charles are even more powerful because the “tragic scaffold” was

erected

outside

Whitehall,

where

so

many royal masques were produced. See a depiction of the king’s execution on p. 1357. 1. A play on the Latin acies, which means the edge of a sword or ax, a keen glance, and the van-

guard of a battle. Cf. the newsbook account of the king’s execution, pp. 1388—91. 2. Livy and Pliny record that the workmen digging the foundations for a temple of Jupiter at Rome uncovered a bloody head which they were persuaded to take as an omen that Rome would

be head (caput) of agreat empire; the temple and the hill took the name Capitoline from that event. 3. Cromwell conducted a particularly brutal campaign in Ireland, and the Irish had no such testimonials for him; the lines are deeply equivocal. 4. The maxim about obedience fitting one to rule is acommonplace. The implications of “yet” and “still,” along with the next stanza, suggest a Caesar figure who has not—but might—cross the Rubicon and defy the Republic, as Julius Caesar did.

1360

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ANDREW

ss

MARVELL

He to the Commons feet presents A kingdom for his first year’s rents; And, what he may, forbears His fame to make it theirs;’ And has his sword and spoils ungirt,

90

To lay them at the public’s skirt: So, when the falcon high Falls heavy from the sky, She, having killed, no more does search, But on the next green bough to perch,

95

Where, when he first does lure,

The falconer has her sure.

100

What may not then our isle presume, While victory his crest does plume! What may not others fear, If thus he crown each year! A Caesar he ere long to Gaul, To Italy an Hannibal, And to all states not free, Shall climactéric be.°

10s

~The Pict no shelter now shall find Within his parti-colored mind,

But from this valor sad,° Shrink underneath the plaid;’

10

severe, solemn

Happy if in the tufted brake The English hunter him mistake, Nor lay his hounds in near The Caledonian® deer.

115

Scottish

But thou, the war’s and Fortune’s son, March indefatigably on; And for the last effect, Still keep thy sword erect;

Besides the force it has to fright The spirits of the shady night,®

5. Thus far, Cromwell gives the Republic credit for his victories. 6. It was thought that Cromwell’s military acumen might subdue France and Italy (which threatened to attack the new republic to restore Charles

7. Early Scots were called Picts (from the Latin pictus,

painted),

because

the warriors

painted

themselves many colors; contemporary Scots are “parti-colored” (divided into many factions) like

a scotch plaid. Cromwell was about to go to sub-

II), just as did Caesar and Hannibal of old. “Cli-

due Scotland, which had declared for Charles I.

macteric”: here, the successful monarchs

8. Asword carried with the blade upright evokes the classical tradition that underworld spirits (here, the slain king and his followers) are frightened off by raised weapons.

a period of crucial, epochal change— expectation that the example of a English republic would topple absolute abroad.

UPON

120

APPLETON

HOUSE

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1361

The same arts that did gain A power must it maintain.’

1650

168]

Upon Appleton House! To My Lord Fairfax

5

Within this sober frame expect Work of no foreign architect, That unto caves the quarries drew, And forests did to pastures hew; Who of his great design in pain Did for a model vault his brain,”

Whose columns should so high be raised To arch the brows that on them gazed.

10

is

Why should of all things man unruled Such unproportioned dwellings build? The beasts are by their dens expressed, And birds contrive an equal nest;? The low-roofed tortoises do dwell In cases fit of tortoiseshell: No creature loves an empty space;

Their bodies measure out their place.

20

But he, superfluously spread, Demands more room alive than dead; And in his hollow palace goes Where winds as he themselves may lose. What need of all this marble crust

9. The maxim alludes to Machiavelli’s advice that a kingdom won by force must for some time be maintained by force. 1. From 1651 to 1653, Marvell served as tutor to Mary Fairfax, daughter of Ann Vere and Thomas Fairfax, commander in chief of the parliamen-

tary army throughout the civil wars. Fairfax opposed the regicide and in 1650 resigned his command rather than lead a preemptive strike against Scotland (which had declared for Charles II). Cromwell

took over as Fairfax retired to his

country estates in Yorkshire, especially Nunappleton, a comparatively simple brick structure on the site of a former Cistercian priory dissolved by Henry VIII along with all monasteries in 1542. The poem makes the house and its history figure

the progress of the Reformation and the recent

civil wars, played off against the Fall, the conflicts of the Israelites in the wilderness, and other

biblical moments. The poem is structured as a journey around the estate, intersected by a long passage of family history. It was apparently written in the summer of 1651, when Mary Fairfax was twelve. 2. Did design in his brain the absurdly high vaulted ceilings of grand, magnificent houses built for showy display. This poem invites comparison and contrast with other country-house poems and the houses, estates, and society they describe: Jonson’s “To Penshurst” (pp. 1096-98), Lanyer’s “Description of Cookham” (pp. 986—90), and Carew’s “To Saxham” (pp. 1323-25). 3. I.e., a nest proportioned to their size.

1362

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ANDREW

MARVELL

T’ impark the wanton mote of dust, That thinks by breadth the world t’ unite Though the first builders* failed in height? 4

2

30

But all things are composed here Like nature, orderly and near: In which we the dimensions find Of what more sober age and mind, When larger sized men did stoop ‘To enter at a narrow loop; As practicing, in doors so strait, To strain themselves through heaven's gate. 5

35

40

And surely when the after age Shall hither come in pilgrimage, These sacred places to adore, By Vere and Fairfax trod before, Men will dispute how their extent Within such dwarfish confines went; And some will smile at this as well As Romulus his bee-like cell. 6

4s

Humility alone designs Those short but admirable lines, By which, ungirt and unconstrained, Things greater are in less contained. Let other vainly strive t’immure The circle in the quadrature!® These holy mathematics can In ev'ry figure equal man.’ ¥ Yet thus the laden house does sweat,

so

wiwit

And scarce endures the master great: But where he comes the swelling hall Stirs, and the square grows spherical;® More by his magnitude distressed, Than he is by its straitness pressed; And too officiously® it slights That in itself which him delights.

4. The proud builders of the Tower of Babel, who thought to make it reach to heaven (Genesis 11). 5. The thatched hut of the legendary founder of Rome.

overeagerly

6. To square the circle. 7. The circle symbolized perfection, the square variously virtue, justice, and prudence. 8. The square hall rises up into a domed cupola.

UPON

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1363

8

60

So honor better lowness bears, Than that unwonted® greatness wears. Height with a certain grace does bend, But low things clownishly° ascend. And yet what needs there here excuse, Where ev'ry thing does answer use? Where neatness nothing can condemn, Nor pride invent® what to contemn?

unaccustomed

in rustic fashion

find out

9

A stately frontispiece of poor? Adorns without the open door; Nor less the rooms within commends Daily new furniture of friends. The house was built upon the place Only as for a mark of grace; And for an inn to entertain Its lord a while, but not remain. !

LO

~I wi

Him Bishops-Hill, or Denton may, Or Bilbrough, better hold than they; But Nature here hath been so free As if she said, Leave this to me. Art would more neatly® have defaced

elegantly

What she had laid so sweetly waste; 80

In fragrant gardens, shady woods, Deep meadows, and transparent floods. 1]

85

While with slow eyes we these survey, And on each pleasant footstep stay, We opportunely may relate The progress of this house’s fate. A nunnery first gave it birth For virgin buildings oft brought forth. And all that neighbor-ruin shows The quarries whence this dwelling rose. 12

90

Near to this gloomy cloister’s gates There dwelt the blooming virgin Thwaites?

9. Poor people awaiting Fairfax’s alms. 1. The house is described as an inn, with an allu-

sion to Hebrews 11.13—16 and the faithful who proclaim themselves “strangers and pilgrims on the earth” as they “desire a better country, that is, an heavenly.”

2. In 1518 the heiress Isabel Thwaites was to marry Thomas Fairfax’s ancestor, William, but was confined by her guardian, the prioress of Nunappleton; William obtained an order for her release and then seized her by force and married her.

1364

ANDREW

MARVELL

Fair beyond measure, and an heir Which might deformity make fair. And oft she spent the summer suns Discoursing with the subtle nuns. Whence in these words one to her weaved (As 'twere by chance) thoughts long conceived. 13

“Within this holy leisure we Live innocently as you see. These walls restrain the world without, 100

But hedge® our liberty about. These bars inclose that wider den

defend

Of those wild creatures, calléd men;

The cloister outward shuts its gates, And, from us, locks on them the grates. 14 105

“Here we, in shining armor white,?

Like And Lest Our 110

virgin amazons do fight: our chaste lamps we hourly trim, the great bridegroom find them dim.* orient® breaths perfumed are

nun’s habit

fresh

With incense of incessant pray’r.

And holy water of our tears Most strangely our complexion clears: 15S

115

120

“Not tears of grief; but such as those With which calm pleasure overflows; Or pity, when we look on you That live without this happy vow. How should we grieve that must be seen Each one a spouse, and each a queen; And can in heaven hence behold Our brighter robes and crowns of gold? 16

vi

“When we have prayed all our beads, Some one the holy legend? reads; While all the rest with needles paint The face and graces of the saint. But what the linen can’t receive They in their lives do interweave. This work the saints best represents; That serves for altar’s ornaments.

a saint's life

3. Matthew 25.1—13 contrasts the wise virgins who kept their lamps lit for the bridegroom (Christ) and

the foolish ones who did not and so were excluded from the marriage feast (heaven)

UPON

APPLETON

HOUSE

1365

Ly. 130

“But much it to our work would add If here your hand, your face we had. By it we would our Lady touch;# Yet thus she you resembles much. Some of your features, as we sewed,

135

Through every shrine should be bestowed: And in one beauty we would take Enough a thousand saints to make. 18

140

“And (for I dare not quench the fire That me does for your good inspire) “Twere sacrilege a man t’ admit To holy things, for heaven fit. I see the angels in a crown On you the lilies show’ring down; And round about you glory breaks, That something more than human speaks. hes]

“All beauty, when at such a height, Is so already consecrate. Fairfax I know; and long ere this Have marked the youth, and what he is. But can he such a rival seem For whom you heav’n should disesteem? Ah, no! and ’twould more honor prove He your devoto® were, than love. 20 “Here live beloved, and obeyed,

Each one your sister, each your maid. And, if our rule seem strictly penned, The rule itself to you shall bend. Our abbess too, now far in age,

160

Doth your succession near presage. How soft the yoke on us would lie, Might such fair hands as yours it tie! 21 “Your voice, the sweetest of the choir,

Shall draw heav’n nearer, raise us higher: And your example, if our head, Will soon us to perfection lead. 165

Those virtues to us all so dear,

4. We could come close to representing the Virgin Mary in our designs with you as model.

devotee

1366

ANDREW

MARVELL

Will straight? grow sanctity when here: And that, once sprung, increase so fast Till miracles it work at last.

immediately

22 “Nor is our order yet so nice,°

precise

Delight to banish as a vice. Here pleasure piety doth meet, One perfecting the other sweet. So through the mortal fruit we boil The sugar’s uncorrupting oil; And that which perished while we pull, Is thus preserved clear and full. 23 “Bor such indeed are all our arts;

Still handling nature’s finest parts. 180

Flow’rs dress the altars; for the clothes, The sea-born amber? we compose;

Balms for the grieved® we draw; and pastes

injured

We mold, as baits for curious tastes. What need is here of man? unless These as sweet sins we should confess.

24

“Each night among us to your side Appoint a fresh and virgin bride; Whom if our Lord at midnight find, Yet neither should be left behind. Where you may lie as chaste in bed, 190

As pearls together billeted,

All night embracing arm in arm, Like crystal pure with cotton warm. 25

195

“But what is this to all the store Ofjoys you see, and may make more! Try but a while, if you be wise: The trial neither costs, nor ties.”

200

Now Fairfax seek her promised faith:° Religion that dispensed hath; Which she henceforward does begin:® The nun’s smooth tongue has sucked her in.

promise to wed

5. Ambergris from the sperm whale supplies the

6. She now begins her “religious” life in the con-

rich perfume for our altar cloths.

vent.

UPON

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HOUSE

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1367

26

tN oO wv

Oft, though he knew it was in vain, Yet would he valiantly complain: “Is this that sanctity so great, An art by which you finelier cheat? Hypocrite witches, hence avaunt, Who though in prison yet enchant! Death only can such thieves make fast,

As rob though in the dungeon cast. 2h,

“Were there but, when this house was made, One stone that a just hand had laid, It must have fall’n upon her head Who first thee from thy faith misled. And yet, how well soever meant, tm

vw

With them ’twould soon grow fraudulent: For like themselves they alter all, And vice infects the very wall.

28

to to j=)

“But sure those buildings last not long, Founded by folly, kept by wrong. I know what fruit their gardens yield, When they it think by night concealed. Fly from their vices. "Tis thy state,° Not thee, that they would consecrate. Fly from their ruin. How I fear Though guiltless lest thou perish there!”

estate

29 225

What should he do? He would respect Religion, but not right neglect; For first religion taught him right, And dazzled not but cleared his sight. Sometimes resolved his sword he draws,

But reverenceth then the laws: For justice still that courage led; First from a judge, then soldier bred.’ 30

Small honor would be in the storm.° The court him grants the lawful form; Which licensed either peace or force, To hinder the unjust divorce.

storming the priory

7. His father was judge of the Common Pleas; his maternal grandfather was a heroic soldier.

1368

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ANDREW

240

MARVELL

Yet still the nuns his right debarred, Standing upon their holy guard. Ill-counseled women, do you know Whom you resist, or what you do? 3]

Is not this he whose offspring fierce Shall fight through all the universe; And with successive valor try France, Poland, either Germany; i} +

uw

Till one, as long since prophesied,

His horse through conquered Britain ride? Yet, against fate, his spouse they kept, And the great race would intercept.® 32

Some to the breach against their foes 20

Their wooden saints in vain oppose.

Another bolder stands at push With their old holy-water brush. While the disjointed° abbess threads The jingling chain-shot? of her beads. wm vi wa

distracted

But their loud’st cannon were their lungs;

And sharpest weapons were their tongues. 33 But, waving these aside like flies,

200

Young Fairfax through the wall does rise. Then th’ unfrequented vault appeared, And superstitions vainly feared. The relics false were set to view;

Only the jewels there were true— But truly bright and holy Thwaites That weeping at the altar waits. 34 nN on wil

But the glad youth away her bears And to the nuns bequeaths her tears: Who guiltily their prize bemoan, Like gypsies that a child had stol’n. Thenceforth (as when th’ enchantment ends

270

The castle vanishes or rends) The wasting cloister with the rest Was in one instant dispossesed.!

8. Thomas Fairfax, son of William and Isabel Thwaites, fought in Italy and Germany; his descendants were also honored soldiers; the present Fairfax fulfilled the prophecy by his victories in the Civil War.

9. Cannonballs linked in a chain and fired together. 1. An allusion to Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries,

UPON

APPLETON

HOUSE

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1369

39

tN—! vi

280

At the demolishing, this seat To Fairfax fell as by escheat.? And what both nuns and founders willed "Tis likely better thus fulfilled: For if the virgin proved not theirs, The cloister yet remained hers; Though many a nun there made her vow, "Twas no religious house till now. 36

From that blest bed the hero came, Whom France and Poland yet does fame; Who, when retired here to peace, His warlike studies could not cease;

But laid these gardens out in sport In the just figure of a fort; And with five bastions it did fence,

As aiming one for ev'ry sense.? ey

When in the east the morning ray Hangs out the colors of the day, The bee through these known alleys hums, Beating the dian® with its drums. Then flow’rs their drowsy eyelids raise, Their silken ensigns each displays, And dries its pan* yet dank with dew, And fills its flask° with odors new.

reveille

powder flask

38

300

These, as their governor goes by, In fragrant volleys they let fly; And to salute their governess Again as great a charge they press: None for the virgin nymph;? for she Seems with the flow’rs a flow’r to be. And think so still! though not compare

6

With breath so sweet, or cheek so fair.

39 305

Well shot ye firemen!° Oh how sweet, And round your equal fires do meet;

2. Legally, in the absence of an heir, the property reverted to him as lord of the manor, Henry gave monastery lands to his nobles. 3. The garden’s five (seeming) bulwarks or fortifications aim at the five senses.

shooters

4. In a musket, the hollow part of the lock that receives the priming. 5. Mary Fairfax (Maria)—Marvell’s pupil at Nunappleton. 6. The imperatives are addressed to the flowers.

1370

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ANDREW

310

MARVELL

Whose shrill report no ear can tell, But echoes to the eye and smell. See how the flow’rs, as at parade, Under their colors stand displayed: Each regiment in order grows, That of the tulip, pink, and rose. 40

But when the vigilant patrol 315

Of stars walks round about the pole, Their leaves, that to the stalks are curled,

Seem to their staves the ensigns furled. Then in some flow’r's beloved hut Each bee as sentinel is shut;

320

And sleeps so too: but, if once stirred, She runs you through, nor asks the word.°

password

4]

Oh thou,° that The garden of Thou paradise Which heaven 325

dear and happy isle the world ere while, of four’ seas, planted us to please,

England

But, to exclude the world, did guard

With wat’ry if not flaming sword;® What luckless apple did we taste, To make us mortal, and thee waste?

42

30

335

Unhappy! shall we never more That sweet militia restore, When gardens only had their tow’rs, And all the garrisons were flow’rs; When roses only arms might bear, And men did rosy garlands wear? Tulips, in several colors barred, Were then the Switzers? of our guard. 43

340

The gardener had the soldier’s place, And his more gentle forts did trace. The nursery of all things green Was then the only magazine. The winter quarters were the stoves° Where he the tender plants removes. But war all this doth overgrow;

hothouses

We ordnance plant, and powder sow. 7. Pronounced with two syllables. 8. After the Fall, the garden in Eden was guarded by angels with flaming swords.

9. The papal Swiss guards wore multicolored uniforms.

UPON

APPLETON

HOUSE

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1371

44 345

And yet there walks one on the sod Who, had it pleased him and God,

Might once have made our gardens spring Fresh as his own and flourishing. But he preferred to the Cinque Ports! These five imaginary forts; And, in those half-dry trenches, spanned? Pow’r which the ocean might command.

restrained

45

For he did, with his utmost skill, Ambition weed, but conscience till. Conscience, that heaven-nurséd plant, Which most our earthly gardens want.°

lack, need

A prickling leaf it bears, and such

As that which shrinks at every touch; But flow’rs eternal, and divine, 360

That in the crowns of saints do shine.

46

The sight does from these bastions ply Th’ invisible artillery; And at proud Cawood Castle? seems To point the batt’ry of its beams, As if it quarreled in° the seat Th’ ambition of its prelate great; But oer the meads below it plays, Or innocently seems to gaze.

found fault with

47 370

375

And now to the abyss J pass Of that unfathomable grass, Where men like grasshoppers appear, But grasshoppers are giants? there: They, in their squeaking laugh, contemn Us as we walk more low than them: And, from the precipices tall Of the green spires, to us do call. 48

To see men through this meadow dive, We wonder how they rise alive;

1. The

five ports

on

the southeast

coast

of

Appleton House.

England, of which Fairfax was warden fora time;

3. Cf. Numbers

the “imaginary forts” (next line) are the “five bas-

giants . . . and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.”

tions” of line 287.

2. Seat of the archbishop of York, two miles from

13.33:

“And

there we

saw

the

1372

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ANDREW

MARVELL

As, underwater, none does know 380

Whether he fall through it or go;° But as the mariners that sound And show upon their lead the ground,* They bring up flow’rs so to be seen, And prove they've at the bottom been.

move forward

49

No scene® that turns with engines strange Does oft’ner than these meadows change:

stage set

For when the sun the grass hath vexed, The tawny mowers 390

enter next;

Who seem like Israelites to be Walking on foot through a green sea. To them the grassy deeps divide And crowd a lane to either side.’ 50 With whistling scythe and elbow strong,

These massacre the grass along: 395

While one, unknowing, carves the rail,°

Whose yet unfeathered quills her fail. The edge all bloody from its breast He draws, and does his stroke detest; 400

Fearing the flesh untimely mowed To him a fate as black forebode. 51

But bloody Thestylis’ that waits To bring the mowing camp their cates,° Greedy as kites° has trussed it up,

food birds of prey

And forthwith means on it to sup; 405

When on another quick she lights, And cries, he® called us Israelites; But now, to make his saying true,

Rails rain for quails, for manna dew.” 52 410

Unhappy birds! what does it boot® To build below the grasses’ root, When lowness is unsafe as height,

avail

4. Plumb the depths and show the nature of the ground below. 5. The mowers produce a lane in the grassy

compared themselves and their revolution to the Israelites battling enemies and wandering in the wilderness en route to Canaan, the Promised

meadow, like that formed when the Red Sea parted

Land. 9. Exodus 13-15 describes the quails and manna (left after the dew evaporated) with which the Israelites were miraculously fed after crossing the

to allow the Israelites passage. 6. The corncrake (land rail), a field bird.

7. The cook for the harvest workers, comically given the name of a classical shepherdess. 8. The author, at line 389. The Puritans constantly

Red Sea.

UPON

415

And chance o’ertakes And now your orphan Sounds your untimely Death-trumpets creak And ’tis the sourdine!

APPLETON

HOUSE

|

L373

what scapeth spite? parents’ call funeral. in such a note, in their throat. 33

Or° sooner hatch or higher build: The mower now commands the field;

420

In whose new traverse® seemeth wrought A camp of battle newly fought: Where, as the meads with hay, the plain Lies quilted o'er with bodies slain; The women that with forks it fling, Do represent the pillaging.

either track

54

425

430

And now the careless victors play, Dancing the triumphs of the hay;2 Where every mower’s wholesome heat Smells like an Alexander’s sweat,? Their females fragrant as the mead Which they in fairy circles tread: When at their dance’s end they kiss, Their new-made hay not sweeter is. 25

435

When after this ‘tis piled in cocks,° Like a calm sea it shows the rocks: We wond’ing in the river near How boats among them safely steer.

haystacks

Or, like the desert Memphis? sand,

440

Short pyramids of hay do stand. And such the Roman camps do rise? In hills for soldiers’ obsequies. 56

445

This scene® again withdrawing brings A new and empty face of things; A leveled space, as smooth and plain, As cloths for Lely® stretched to stain. The world when first created sure Was such a table rase’ and pure;

stage set

1. A small pipe put into the mouth of a trumpet to produce a low sound.

5. Hillocks that served as burial mounds; they were actually British in origin, not Roman,

2. A country dance (with a pun). 3. Plutarch wrote that Alexander the Great's sweat smelled sweet. 4. An ancient Egyptian city near the pyramids.

6. Canvases for the Dutch portrait painter Sir Peter Lely, who came to England in 1643. 7. Tabula rasa (Latin): a clean or blank slate.

1374

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ANDREW

MARVELL

Or rather such is the toril Ere the bulls enter at Madril.®

a/

450

For to this naked equal flat, Which Levellers’ take pattern at, The

4s5

villagers in common?

chase

common

pasture

Their cattle, which it closer rase;°

crops

And what below the scythe increased® Is pinched yet nearer by the beast. Such, in the painted world, appeared, Davenant with th’ universal herd.!

grew

58

460

They seem within the polished grass A landscape drawn in looking glass; And shrunk in the huge pasture show As spots, so shaped, on faces do.? Such fleas, ere they approach the eye, In multiplying® glasses lie.

magnifying

They feed so wide, so slowly move, As constellations do above. 59 465

Then, to conclude these pleasant acts,

Denton sets ope’ its cataracts;? And makes the meadow truly be (What it but seemed before) a sea.

470

For, jealous of its lord’s long stay, It tries t’ invite him thus away. The river in itself is drowned And isles th’ astonished cattle round.

60

Let others tell the paradox, How eels now bellow in the ox;*

475

How horses at their tails do kick, Turned as they hang to leeches quick;* How boats can over bridges sail, And fishes do the stables scale;

8. Madrid. “Toril”; bull ring. 9. A radical faction, the Diggers or True Levellers, who sought social and economic equality. A group of Diggers began to put their tenets into practice by taking over and cultivating the land on St. George Hill, part of Fairfax’s domain. See Gerrard Winstanley (pp. 1399-1405), 1. William Davenant, in his heroic poem Gondibert (2.6), describes a painting of creation, where on the sixth day “an universal herd” of animals

appeared. 2. A landscape (or painted landscape) reflected in a mirror would be reduced in size. 3. Small waterfalls or dams. Denton, also a Fairfax estate (see line 73), was located on the Wharfe River, thirty miles from Nunappleton. 4. Because the ox swallowed them. 5. In popular superstition horse hairs in water became live leeches or eels.

UPON

480

APPLETON

How salmons trespassing are found, And pikes are taken in the pound.?

HOUSE

|

[SYS

cattle pen

61

But I, retiring from the flood, Take sanctuary in the wood; And, while it lasts, myself embark In this yet green, yet growing ark; Where the first carpenter® might best Fit timber for his keel have pressed:° And where all creatures might have shares, Although in armies, not in pairs.

obtained

62 490

The double wood of ancient stocks Linked in so thick an union locks,

It like two pedigrees’ appears,

On one hand Fairfax, th’ other Vere’s: Of whom though many fell in war,

Yet more to heaven shooting are: And, as they nature’s cradle decked,

Will in green age her hearse expect. 63

When first the eye this forest sees It seems indeed as wood not trees;

As if their neighborhood? so old To one great trunk them all did mold. There the huge bulk takes place, as meant To thrust up a fifth element;® And stretches still so closely wedged As if the night within were hedged.

nearness

64 Dark all without it knits; within

510

It opens passable and thin; And in as loose an order grows As the Corinthian porticoes.’ The arching boughs unite between The columns of the temple green; And underneath the winged choirs Echo about their tuned fires.

6. Noah, who built an ark to escape a flood that would cover the earth (Genesis 6). 7. Genealogical trees, of the Fairfax and Vere families.

8. The so-called quintessence, beyond and superior to fire, air, water, and earth. 9. The most elaborate order of Greek columns.

1376

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ANDREW

MARVELL

65

The nightingale does here make choice To sing the trials of her voice. VI wn

Low shrubs she sits in, and adorns

With music high the squatted thorns. But highest oaks stoop down to hear,

520

And list’ning elders prick the ear. The thorn, lest it should hurt her, draws Within the skin its shrunken claws.

66

wi)tN vi

But I have for my music found A sadder, yet more pleasing sound: The stock doves,° whose fair necks are graced With nuptial rings, their ensigns chaste; Yet always, for some cause unknown, Sad pair, unto the elms they moan. O why should such a couple mourn, That in so equal flames do burn!

turtledoves

67

Then as I careless on the bed 330

335

Of gelid strawberries do tread,

And through the hazels thick espy The hatching throstle’s shining eye, The heron from the ash’s top The eldest of its young lets drop, As if it stork-like' did pretend That tribute to its lord to send.

68

540

But most the hewel’s® wonders are, Who here has the holtfelster’s® care. He walks still upright from the root, Meas’ring the timber with his foot; And all the way, to keep it clean, Doth from the bark the wood-moths glean.

green woodpecker's woodcutter's

He, with his beak, examines well Which fit to stand and which to fell.

69 Nn aS vi

The good he numbers up, and hacks; As if he marked them with the ax.

But where he, tinkling with his beak,

|. The stork upon leaving a nest was believed to leave behind one of its young as a tribute to the householder.

UPON

550

APPLETON

HOUSE

1377

Does find the hollow oak? to speak, That for his building he designs, And through the tainted side he mines. Who could have thought the tallest oak Should fall by such a feeble stroke! 70

Nor would it, had the tree not fed A traitor-worm, within it bred. wv wi JI

(As first our flesh corrupt within

Tempts impotent and bashful sin) And yet that worm triumphs not long, But serves to feed the hewel’s young; While the oak seems to fall content, Viewing the treason’s punishment. 71

Thus I, easy philosopher, Among the birds and trees confer; And little now to make me, wants° vi a uw

Or® of the fowls, or of the plants. Give me but wings as they, and I Straight floating on the air shall fly: Or turn me but, and you shall see

lacks either

I was but an inverted tree.?

72 vw I o

wi vi

Already I begin to call In their most learned original: And where I language want, my signs The bird upon the bough divines; And more attentive there doth sit Than if she were with lime* twigs knit. No leaf does tremble in the wind Which I returning cannot find. 23

580

Out of these scattered Sibyl’s leaves Strange prophecies my fancy weaves: And in one history consumes, Like Mexique paintings, all the plumes.°

feathers

What Rome, Greece, Palestine, ere said

I in this light Mosaic® read. 2. The “royal” oak was traditionally an emblem of monarchy. 3. Originally classical, this is a widely used metaphor in the Renaissance. 4. Birdlime, a sticky substance smeared on twigs to trap birds.

5. The Cumaean Sibyl, in Virgil, committed her prophecies to leaves that Aeneas feared might be scattered (Aeneid 6.77). 6. The pattern formed by the trembling leaves; also the books of Moses, who was thought to have written the first five books of the Bible.

1378

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ANDREW

MARVELL

Thrice happy he who, not mistook, Hath read in nature’s mystic book.’ 74 And see how chance’s better wit Could with a mask® my studies hit! The oak-leaves me embroider all, Between which caterpillars crawl;

And ivy, with familiar trails, Me licks, and clasps, and curls, and hales. Under this antic cope’ I move

Like some great prelate of the grove. iD

SS

600

Then, languishing with ease, I toss On pallets swol’n of velvet moss; While the wind, cooling through the boughs, Flatters with air my panting brows. Thanks for my rest, ye mossy banks, And unto you, cool zephyrs,° thanks, gentle west winds Who, as my hair, my thoughts too shed,? part And winnow from the chaff my head. 76 How safe, methinks, and strong, behind

These trees have | encamped my mind; Where beauty, aiming at the heart, 605

Bends in some tree its useless® dart; And where the world no certain shot Can make, or me it toucheth not.

harmless

But I on it securely play, And gall its horsemen all the day. I 610

Bind me ye woodbines in your twines, Curl me about ye gadding vines, And O so close your circles lace, That I may never leave this place: But, lest your fetters prove too weak,

Ere I your silken bondage break, 615

Do you, O brambles, chain me too,

And courteous briars, nail me through.!

7. The book of the creatures, or the book of God’s

8. Masque

9. Comic ecclesiastical vestment.

1. The imagery evokes imprisonment and cruci-

works.

costume

the speaker’s studies.

or disguise appropriate

to

fixion.

UPON

APPLETON

HOUSE

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1379

78

Here in the morning tie my chain, Where the two woods have made a lane: While, like a guard on either side, The trees before their lord divide: This, like a long and equal thread, Betwixt two labyrinths does lead. But, where the floods did lately drown, There at the evening stake me down. £9 For now the waves are fall’n and dried,

And now the meadows fresher dyed; Whose grass, with moister color dashed, Seems as green silks but newly washed. No serpent new nor crocodile 630

Remains behind our little Nile;?

Unless itself you will mistake, Among these meads? the only snake.

meadows

80

See in what wanton harmless folds It ev'rywhere the meadow holds; And its yet muddy back doth lick, Till as a crystal mirror slick;° Where all things gaze themselves, and doubt If they be in it or without.

smooth

And for his shade® which therein shines, 640

shadow

Narcissus-like, the sun too pines.? 81

Oh what a pleasure ‘tis to hedge My temples here with heavy sedge; Abandoning my lazy side, 645

Stretched as a bank unto the tide; Or to suspend my sliding foot On th’ osier’s undermined root,

And in its branches tough to hang, While at my lines the fishes twang! 82 650

But now away my hooks, my quills,° And angles, idle utensils. The young Maria walks tonight:

2. Our river; serpents and crocodiles were thought to be bred by spontaneous generation from the mud of the Nile.

3. Narcissus lay beside water, reflection, pining for himself.

floats

staring

at his

1380

|

ANDREW

655

MARVELL

Hide trifling youth thy pleasures slight. "Twere shame that such judicious eyes Should with such toys a man surprise; She that already is the law Of all her sex, her age’s awe. 83

See how loose nature, in respect To her, itself doth recollect; 660

And everything so whisht® and fine, Starts forthwith to its bonne mine.®

hushed good appearance

The sun himself, of her aware,

Seems to descend with greater care; And lest she see him go to bed,

In blushing clouds conceals his head. 84 665

670

So when the shadows laid asleep From underneath these banks do creep, And on the river as it flows With ebon shuts® begin to close; The modest halcyon? comes in sight, Flying betwixt the day and night;

black shutters

And such an horror calm and dumb,

Admiring nature does benumb. 85

The viscous? air, wheresoe’r she fly, Follows and sucks her azure dye; The jellying stream compacts? below, If it might fix her shadow so; The stupid? fishes hang, as plain

thick solidifies stupefied

As flies in crystal overta’en; And men the silent scene assist,°

attend

Charmed with the sapphire-wingéd mist.° 86 Maria such, and so° doth hush

in like fashion

The world, and through the ev’ning rush. No newborn comet such a train 685

4. The kingfisher, was

believed

Draws through the sky, nor star new-slain.° For straight those giddy rockets’ fail, Which from the putrid earth exhale, But by her flames, in heaven tried, Nature is wholly vitrified.°

who by nesting on the waves

to bring absolute

5. The bird in its flight.

calm

to the sea.

turned to glass

6. Meteor, or shooting star.

7. Vapors exhaled from the earth.

UPON

APPLETON

HOUSE

1381

87 690

‘Tis she that to these gardens gave That wondrous beauty which they have; She straightness on the woods bestows;

To her the meadow sweetness owes;

Nothing could make the river be So crystal-pure but only she;

She yet more pure, sweet, straight, and fair, Than gardens, woods, meads, rivers are.

88

Therefore what first she on them spent, They gratefully again present: The meadow, carpets where to tread;

700

The garden, flow’rs to crown her head;

And for a glass, the limpid brook, Where she may all her beauties look;

But, since she would not have them seen,

The wood about her draws a screen. 89 For she, to higher beauties raised,

Disdains to be for lesser praised. She counts her beauty to converse In all the languages as hers;

Nor yet in those herself employs But for the wisdom, not the noise;

Nor yet that wisdom would affect, But as ’tis heaven’s dialect. 90

Blest nymph! that couldst so soon prevent Those trains° by youth against thee meant: Tears (wat’ry shot that pierce the mind) And sighs (love’s cannon charged with wind) True praise (that breaks through all defense) And feigned complying innocence; But knowing where this ambush lay, She scaped the safe, but roughest way. AI

This ’tis to have been from the first In a domestic heaven nursed,

Under the discipline severe Of Fairfax, and the starry Vere; Where not one object can come nigh But pure, and spotless as the eye;

artillery

ANDREW

13:82

MARVELL

And goodness doth itself entail On females, if there want a male.® 92

730

~I Ww wi

Go now fond? sex that on your face Do all your useless study place, Nor once at vice your brows dare knit Lest the smooth forehead wrinkled sit; Yet your own face shall at you grin, Thorough’® the black-bag® of your skin; When knowledge only could have filled And virtue all those furrows tilled.

foolish

through / mask

i)

Hence she with graces more divine Supplies beyond her sex the line; And, like a sprig of mistletoe, 740

On the Fairfacian oak doth grow; Whence, for some universal good, The priest shall cut the sacred bud;?

While her glad parents most rejoice, And make their destiny their choice. 94 Meantime ye fields, springs, bushes, flow’rs,

Where yet she leads her studious hours (Till fate her worthily translates, And find a Fairfax for our Thwaites), Employ the means you have by her,

And in your kind yourselves prefer;! That, as all virgins she precedes, So you all woods, streams, gardens, meads. 95

For you Thessalian Tempe’s? seat ~I

Shall now be scorned as obsolete; Aranjuez, as less, disdained;

The Bel-Retiro*® as constrained; But name not the Idalian grove,* For ’twas the seat of wanton Love; 760

Much less the dead’s Elysian Fields,’ Yet nor to them your beauty yields.

8. Maria was the only child and heir of the Fairfaxes.

9. Maria is, of course, intended for marriage. 1. Make yourselves the best you can. 2. The Vale of Tempe, in Greece, was a kind of paradise,

3. Spanish palaces. 4. A favorite haunt of Aphrodite (Venus), goddess of love, on Cyprus. 5. The pleasant habitation of the good in the classical underworld.

UPON

APPLETON

HOUSE

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1383

96

"Tis not, what once it was, the world,

But a rude heap together hurled; All negligently overthrown, Gulfs, deserts, precipices, stone. Your lesser world® contains the same, But in more decent order tame;

You heaven’s center, nature’s lap, And paradise’s only map. 2% 770

But now the salmon-fishers moist Their leathern boats begin to hoist: And, like antipodes in shoes,

Have shod their heads in their canoes.”

How tortoise-like, but not so slow,

NI “I wi)

These rational amphibii® go! Let’s in; for the dark hemisphere Does now like one of them appear.

1651

6. Appleton House. 7. The men who dwell at the “antipodes,” on the other side of the world are sometimes said to wear their shoes on their heads; these English

1681

fishermen transport their leather boats on their heads. 8. As men, the fishermen are “rational”, they live in two elements, land and water.

and

ANNE

Crisis of Authority ost of the poets and prose writers who published in the “civil war decades,” 1640 to 1660, registered in some way their responses to the conflicts swirling about them. The war and the issues over which it was fought shadow the poetry of Vaughan, Herrick, Lovelace, Suckling, and Marvell and the prose of Thomas

Browne and Izaak Walton. Yet often such writers addressed the conflict only obliquely. When Marvell or Herrick celebrates peaceful gardens or fruitful countryside, when Vaughan envisions eternity as a “great ring of pure and endless light” suspended above all mortal turmoil, when Walton rhapsodizes about fishing, they create refuges of the imagination that might partially compensate for the trauma of war. Other writers confronted the issues of the age more straightforwardly. The readings included in this section sample this more explicitly political writing. They exemplify some of the genres encouraged by the new conditions in which literary materials could be written and circulated. With the restoration of Charles II in 1660, many of the radical voices of the 1640s and 1650s were muted. Yet the war decades left a lasting imprint upon English literature. They established a tradition of overtly political, often ambitiously literary writing without which it is hard to imagine the works of such authors as Dryden, Swift, and Pope. They established prose as a dominant literary medium, especially for the description and analysis of everyday life. They initiated a tradition of apparently ordinary people bearing witness in writing to extraordinary events: a vital precedent for the rise of the novel. This section presents examples of several kinds of writing that flourished during the Civil War and its immediate aftermath: the journalistic reporting of current events; political theory; and careful descriptions of contemporary history, personal experience, and individual character. These excerpts demonstrate a variety of ways in which writers might respond to the disturbing and exciting developments around them: by reporting the details of dramatic, unprecedented occurences; by analyzing the political and social problems posed by the conflict; by ruminating upon the character of great men; by seizing new opportunities for autobiographical reflection.

REPORTING THE NEws The following accounts of the king’s trial and execution are excerpted from newsbooks, one of the most important new literary forms of the war years. In England the reportage of current events originated in the 1620s, when anxiety over the nation’s entanglement in what would ecame the Thirty Years War on the Continent generated a demand for international news. In addition, in the 1620s and 1630s a ee enterprising individuals provided “corantos,’ Menderes reports of court goings-on, to wealthy individuals in the provinces; these were technically considered private letters, although they sometimes circulated to several hundred paid subscribers. Yet even these modest ventures were always on legally shaky ground. The printing of domestic news, or commentary thereon, was strictly prohibited by Charles I, as it had been by his forebears. 1384

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13385

In the early 1640s, censorship collapsed just when many people urgently wanted information about the momentous events transpiring in England, Scotland, and Ireland. The result was the explosive development of printed news. While in 1640 there were no newsbooks, by 1645 there were 755. Their format varied, but typically they were eight-page cheaply printed pamphlets, issued weekly. Most writers and compilers remained anonymous, though in some cases the identity of the authors was an open secret. Unlike the earlier corantos, the inexpensive newsboo ks of the 1640s gave a broad spectrum of readers access to information about current events. Often, simultaneously, they propagandized on behalf of various parties to the developing conflict. The newsbooks thus encouraged an unprecedentedly wide and deep sense of civic involvement, and arguably also had the effect of hardeni ng factional differences. The newsbooks provided eyewitness, or what purported to be eyewitnes s, accounts of the king’s trial and execution very shortly after they occurred. Both events were highly charged, with important and complex stakes on both sides. In the autumn of 1648, many in Parliament who had initially wanted to restrict the king’s powers hesitated to remove him from the throne: they favored a negotiated end to hostilities. Yet the powerful leaders of the New Model Army, including Oliver Cromwell , were convinced that Charles was a threat to a reorganized commonwealth. Even if the king dealt with his opponents in good faith, which they doubted, he would be a con-

stant rallying point for opposition to their policies. Conceivably, the war would never be over. When Charles seemed to be planning to escape from his relatively light confinement on the Isle of Wight, the army council ordered him seized and brought to London, which the army occupied. Yet what were they to do with their captive? Simply to assassinate him would deprive his killers of any semblance of legitimacy. A formal trial, therefore, seemed necessary; but it was not easy to achieve. First, Parliament had to be purged of more than half its members, who disapproved of putting the king on trial. Once reconstituted so as to exclude opposition, Parliament then

had to pass a law redefining treason as a crime against the state, not a crime against

the king, of which the king himself could not logically have been guilty.

As in the case of most treason trials in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a guilty verdict was a foregone conclusion. Yet the trial’s value as propaganda was unpredictable. The judges and executioners pointedly assumed the regalia and symbolism of state power, and conducted both the trial and the execution with great punctiliousness, in order to bolster the impression of due process in the eyes of onlookers and newsbook readers. Charles's calmly defiant behavior, meanwhile, was not meant to secure his acquittal, which everyone knew would have been unforthcoming anyhow. Rather, he hoped to garner sympathy for his plight, to demonstrate publicly his unwavering adherence to his own principles, and to provoke prosecutors and judges into behaving like rabid zealots. Likewise, his conduct on the scaffold impressed even those who deplored his political position. While his judges and executioners strove to describe him as an overweening tyrant, Charles struggled to appear the heir to a Christian tradition of suffering innocence, a “martyr of the people.” In 1660, as soon as the monarchy was restored, Charles I was canonized by the Church of England.

1386

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CRISIS

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AUTHORITY

From The Moderate, No. 28 16—23 January 1649 [THE TRIAL OF KING CHARLES I, THE FIRST DAY]

At the high court ofjustice sitting in the Great Hall of Westminster, Sergeant Bradshaw President,' about 70 Members present. Oyez* made thrice, silence commanded. The president had the sword and mace carried before him, attended with Colonel Fox, and twenty other officers and gentlemen with partisans.*? The act of the Commons in Parliament for trial of the king, read. After the court was called, and each member rising up as he was called. The king came into the court, his hat on, and the Commissioners with theirs on also; no congratulation or motion of hats at all.* The Ser-

geant ushered him in with the mace, Colonel Hacker? and about thirty officers and gentlemen more came as his guard; the president then spake in these words, viz.

“Charles Stuart, King of England, the Commons of England assembled in Parliament being sensible of the great calamities that have been brought upon this nation, of the innocent blood that hath been shed in this nation, which is referred® to you, as the author of it; and according to that duty which they owe to God, to the nation, and themselves, and according to that

fundamental power and trust that is reposed in them by the people, have constituted this high court of justice before which you are now brought; and you are to hear the charge upon which the court will proceed.” Mr. Cook Solicitor General.’ “My lord, in behalf of the Commons of England, and of all the people thereof,

| do accuse Charles Stuart, here

present, of high treason and high misdemeanors, and | do in the name of the Commons of England desire that the charge may be read unto him.” King. “Hold a little’—tapping the solicitor general twice on the shoulder with his cane, which drawing towards him again, the head thereon fell off,

he stooping for it, put it presently® into his pocket. This is conceived will be very ominous. Lord President. “Sir, the court commands

the charge to be read; if you

have any thing to say after, you may be heard.” The charge was read. The king smiled often during the time, especially at those words therein, viz that Charles Stuart was a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy of the commonwealth. 1. John Bradshaw (1609-1659), chief justice of Cheshire and Wales, accepted the office of president after others declined. He lost this office after 1653, when he opposed Cromwell’s consolidation of personal power. Bradshaw was posthumously convicted of treason at the Restoration in 1660; his body was exhumed and hanged in chains.

4. For either the king or the judges to doff their hats would be to acknowledge the others’ superiority. “Congratulation”: salutation.

2. Hear ye (French). 3. John Fox (1610-1650) was commander of the Lord President’s bodyguard, the members of

7. John Cook (1608-1660), a radical republican

which carried spears with a lobed base “partisan.” The “sword and mace” symbolizes state power.

5. Francis Hacker (1618—1660) commanded

the

soldiers who guarded the king, signed the king’s death warrant, and supervised the guard on the

scaffold. He was executed after the Restoration. 6. Attributed. lawyer, served as chief prosecutor. He was executed after the Restoration. 8. Immediately.

REPORTING

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1387

Lord President. “Sir, you have now heard your charge read, containi ng such matter as appears in it: you find that in the close of it, it is prayed to

the court in the behalf of all the Commons of England, that you answer to

your charge. The court expects your answer.” King. “I would know by what power I am called hither. I was not long ago in the Isle of Wight; how I came hither is a larger story then I think is fit at this time for me to speak of: But there I entered into a treaty with the two Houses of Parliament, with as much public faith as is possibly to be had of any people in the world. I treated there with a number of honorable lords and gentlemen, and treated honestly and uprightly. | cannot say but they did deal very nobly with me. We were upon conclusion of a treaty. Now I would know by what authority—I mean lawful; there are many unlawful authorities in the world, thieves and robbers by the highways—but I would know by what authority I was brought from thence, and carried from place to place; and when I know by what lawful authority, I shall answer. “Remember, I am your king, your lawful king; and what sin you bring upon your heads, and the judgments of God upon this land, think well upon it; I say think well upon it before you go further, from one sin to a greater.’ Therefore let me know by what lawful authority I am seated here, and I shall not be unwilling to answer. In the meantime, I shall not betray my trust. I have a trust committed to me by God, by old and lawful descent. I will not betray it, to answer to a new and unlawful authority. Therefore resolve me that, and you shall hear more of me.” Lord President. “If you had been pleased to have observed what was hinted to you by the court at our first coming hither, you would have known by what authority; which authority requires you in the name of the people of England, of which you are elected king, to answer them.” King. “No sir, I deny that.” Lord President. “If you acknowledge not the authority of the court, they must proceed.” King. “I do tell you so, England was never an elective kingdom, but an hereditary kingdom, for near a thousand years; therefore let me know by what authority I am called hither. | do stand more for the liberty of my people than any here that come to be my pretended judges; and therefore let me know by what lawful authority I am seated here, and I will answer it; otherwise I will not answer it.”

Lord President told him he did interrogate the court, which beseemed not one in his condition, and it was known how he had managed his trust. bs

King. “I desire that you would give me, and all the world, satisfaction in this. For let me tell you, it is not a slight thing you are about. I am sworn to keep the peace by the duty I owe to God and my country; and I will do it to the last breath of my body: And therefore you shall do well to satisfy first God and then the country by what authority you do it; if by a reserved! authority, you cannot answer it. There is a God in heaven that will call you, and all that give you power, to an account. Satisfy me in that, and I will 9. From rebellion to regicide.

1. Unexplained.

1388

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GRISISTOR

AUT

HORT

¥

answer; otherwise, I betray my trust and the liberties of the people. And therefore think of that, and then I shall be willing. For I do vow, that it is as great a sin to withstand lawful authority, as it is to submit to a tyrannical or any otherways unlawful authority, And therefore satisfy me that, and you shall receive my answer.” Lord President. “The court expects a final answer. They are to adjourn till Monday. If you satisfy not yourself, though we tell you our authority, we are satisfied with our authority, and it is upon God’s authority and the kingdom’s; and that peace you speak of will be kept in the doing ofjustice; and that is our present work.” The court adjourned till Monday ten of clock to the Painted Chamber, and thence hither. As the king went away, facing the court, the king said, “I fear not that,” looking upon and meaning the sword. Going down from the court, the people cried, “Justice, justice, justice!” Jan. 21. The commissioners kept a fast this day in Whitehall. There preached before them Mr. Sprig, whose text was, “He that sheds blood, by man shall his blood be shed.” Mr. Foxley’s was “Judge not, lest you be judged.” And Mr. Peters’ was. “I will bind their kings in chains, and their nobles in fetters of iron.”* The last sermon made amends for the two former. 1649

From A Perfect Diurnal of Some Passages in Parliament, No. 288 Tuesday, January 30 [THE EXECUTION OF CHARLES 1|

This day the king was beheaded over against the Banqueting House by Whitehall.’ The manner of execution and what passed before his death take thus.” He was brought from Saint James? about ten in the morning, walking on foot through the park with a regiment of foot for his guard, with colors flying, drums beating, his private guard of partisans,* with some of his gentlemen before, and some behind bareheaded, Dr. Juxon late Bishop of London’ next behind him, and Colonel Tomlinson®

(who had the charge of

him) to the gallery in Whitehall, and so into the Cabinet Chamber where he used to lie, where he continued at his devotion, refusing to dine (having 2. The biblical texts are Genesis 9.6, Matthew 7.1, and Psalms 149.8. Hugh Peters (1598-1660),

Independent preacher to Cromwell's New Model Army, passionately supported the king’s execution. He was himself executed after the Restoration. 1. Whitehall Palace was the English monarch’s principal residence from 1530 to 1698, when most of it was destroyed by fire. The Banqueting House, designed by Inigo Jones with ceilings painted by Peter Paul Rubens, was built for King James I in 1619—22 and was used to stage court masques. “Over against”: just outside.

2. Accept the following account.

3. St. James Palace, near Whitehall.

4. Guards armed with partisans, lobed points or halberds.

spears

with

5. William Juxon (1582-1663), Charles I’s personal chaplain, was bishop of London until 1649,

when he was deprived of office. In the late 1630s he had also served as one of the king's financial advisers. After the Restoration he became archbishop of Canterbury. 6. Matthew Tomlinson commanded the guards assigned to Charles. He was tried after the Restoration but was spared because he had been courteous to the king.

REPORTING

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1389

before taken the sacrament) only about 12 at noon he drank a glass of claret wine, and eat a piece of bread. From thence he was accompanied by Dr.

Juxon, Colonel Tomlinson,

Colonel Hacker,’ and the guards before men-

tioned through the Banqueting House adjoining to which the scaffold was erected between Whitehall Gate and the gate leading into the gallery from Saint James. The scaffold was hung round with black, and the floor covered with black, and the ax and block laid in the middle of the scaffold. There were divers companies of foot and horse on every side the scaffold, and the multitudes of people that came to be spectators very great. The king making a pass upon® the scaffold, looked very earnestly on the block, and asked Colonel Hacker if there were no higher; and then spake thus, directing his speech to the gentlemen upon the scaffold. King. “I shall be very little heard of anybody here; I shall therefore speak a word unto you here. Indeed I could hold my peace® very well, if I did not think that holding my peace would make some men think that I did submit to the guilt as well as to the punishment. But I think it is my duty to God first, and to my country, for to clear myself both as an honest man, and a good king, and a good Christian. I shall begin first with my innocency. In troth I think it not very needful for me to insist long upon this, for all the world knows that I never did begin a war with the two Houses of Parliament, and I call God to witness, to whom I must shortly make an account, that I never did intend for to encroach upon their privileges; they began upon me. It is the militia they began upon;! they confessed that the militia was mine but they thought it fit to have it from me; and to be short, if anybody will look to the dates of commissions, theirs and mine, and likewise to the declarations,’ will see clearly that they began these unhappy troubles, not I. So that as the guilt of these enormous crimes that are laid against me, I hope in God that God will clear me of it. I will not; | am in charity;3 God forbid that I should lay it upon the two Houses of Parliament, there is no necessity of either.* I hope they are free of this guilt; for I do believe that ill instruments’ between them and me has been the chief cause of all this bloodshed. So that by way of speaking, as | find myself clear of this, I hope and pray God that they may too. Yet for all this, God forbid that I should be so ill a Christian, as not to say that God’s judgments are just upon me. Many times he does pay justice by an unjust sentence; that is ordinary. I only say this, that an unjust sentence (meaning Strafford)* that I suffered for to take effect, is punished now by an unjust sentence upon me. That is, so far I have said, to show you that I am an innocent man.

. On Colonel Hacker, see p. 1386, note 5. . Traversing. CO \O XI. Remain silent. It was customary for condemned prisoners to address onlookers before their public executions. “You here”: the small group standing on the scaffold, as distinguished from the large

crowd watching the execution. 1. In 1642 Parliament's Militia Ordinance transferred local militias from the king's control to Parliament’s. Despite its failure to secure Charles’s assent to the measure, Parliament declared it legally binding.

2. “Commissions” and “declarations”: warrants for enlisting troops and proclamations of war. 3. Practicing the charity that befits a Christian, | refuse to lay the blame for the war on my enemies. 4. Of blaming either side for the war. 5. Corrupt go-betweens. 6. In an attempt to appease his opponents in Par-

liament, Charles reluctantly consented to the execution of his adviser Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, for treason in 1641, despite lack of evidence that Strafford had committed any crime.

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“Now for to show you that I am a good Christian, I hope there is” (pointing to Dr. Juxon) “a good man that will bear me witness that I have forgiven all the world, and those in particular that have been the chief causers of my death. Who they are, God knows; I do not desire to know. I pray God forgive them. But this is not all; my charity must go farther. I wish that they may repent, for indeed they have committed a great sin in that particular. I pray God with Saint Stephen that this be not laid to their charge;’ nay, not only so, but that they may take the right way to the peace of the kingdom, for charity commands me not only to forgive particular men, but to endeavor to the last gasp the peace of the kingdom. Sirs, I do wish with all my soul, and I do hope there is some here will carry it further, that they may endeavor the peace of the kingdom. “Now, sirs, I must show you both how you are out of the way, and will put you in a way.® First, you are out of the way, for certainly all the way’ you ever have had yet as I could find by anything, is in the way of conquest. Certainly this is an ill way, for conquest, sir, in my opinion is never just, except there be a good just cause, either for matter of wrong or just title, and then if you go beyond it,! the first quarrel that you have to it, that makes it unjust at the end that was just at first. But if it be only matter of conquest, then it is a great robbery; as a pirate said to Alexander that he was a great robber, he was but a petty robber. And so, sir, I do think the way that you are in, is much out of the way. Now, sir, for to put you in the way, believe it you never do right, nor God will never prosper you,’ until you give Him his due, the king his due (that is, my successors) and the people their

due. | am as much for them? as any of you. You must give God his due by regulating rightly his Church, according to Scripture, which is now out of order. For to set you in a way particularly* now I cannot, but only this, a national synod freely called, freely debating among themselves, must settle this; when that every opinion is freely and clearly heard. For the king, indeed I will not—(Then turning to a gentleman that touched the ax, said, hurt not the ax that may hurt me.)—For the king, the laws of the land will clearly instruct you for that; therefore, because it concerns my own particular I only give you a touch of it.” For the people, and truly I desire their liberty and freedom, as much as anybody whomsoever; but I must tell you, that their liberty and their freedom consists in having of government, those laws by which their life and their goods may be most their own. It is not for having share in government, sir, that is nothing pertaining to them.® A subject and a sovereign are clean’ different things; and therefore, until they do that, I mean, that you do put the people in that liberty as I say, certainly they will never enjoy themselves.® Sirs, it was for this? that now I am come here. If I would have given way to an arbitrary way, for to have all laws changed according to the power of the sword, I needed not to have come here; and 7. St. Stephen, the first Christian that God not hold his persecutors their actions; recounted in Acts (previous line): regard. 8. Both show you how you are

martyr, prayed responsible for 7. “Particular”

wrong and put

you on a correct course.

9. All the rationale. 1. Beyond what is necessary wrong.

2. Allow you to flourish, 3. On the people’s side. 4. In detail. 5. Because it concerns my own situation, I mention it only briefly. 6. Of their concern or responsibility.

to correct

the

7. Completely. 8. Be happy. 9. Because I upheld the liberty of the people.

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therefore I tell you, and I pray God it be not laid to your charge, that | am the martyr of the people. In troth sirs, I shall not hold you much longer; for I will only say this to you, that in truth I could have desired some little time longer because that I would have put this that I have said in a little more order and a little better digested! than I have done: and therefore I hope you will excuse me. I have delivered? my conscience. | pray God that you do take those courses that are best for the good of the kingdom and your own salvations.” Dr. Juxon. “Will Your Majesty—though it may be very well known Your Majesty’s affections to religion—yet it may be expected that you should say somewhat? for the world’s satisfaction.” King. “I thank you very heartily, my lord, for that I had almost forgotten it. In troth, sirs, my conscience in religion I think is very well known to the world, and therefore I declare before you all that I die a Christian according to the profession of the Church of England as I found it left me by my father; and this honest man, I think, will witness it.” Then turning to the officers said, “sirs, excuse me for this same.* I have a good cause, and I have a gracious God; I will say no more.” Then turning to Colonel Hacker, he said, “Take care that they do not put me to pain; and, sir, this, an it please you.”> But then a gentleman coming near the ax, the king said, “Take heed of the ax, pray take heed of the ax.” Then the king speaking to the executioner said, “I shall say but very short prayers, and then thrust out my hands.” Then the king called to Dr. Juxon for his nightcap, and having put it on he said to the executioner, “Does my hair trouble you?” Who desired him to put it all under his cap, which the king did accordingly, by the help of the executioner and the bishop. Then the king turning to Dr. Juxon said, “I have a good cause, and a gracious God on my side. Dr. Juxon, “There is but one stage more. This stage is turbulent and troublesome; it is a short one: But you may consider it will soon carry you a very great way; it will carry you from earth to heaven, and there you shall find a great deal of cordial joy and comfort.” King. “I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be.” Dr. Juxon. “You are exchanged from a temporal to an eternal crown, a good exchange.” Then the king took off his cloak and his George,° giving his George to Dr. Juxon, saying “Remember” (it is thought for the prince) and some other small ceremonies past. After which the king stooping down laid his neck upon the block, and after a very little pause stretching forth his hands, the executioner at one blow severed his head from his body. Then his body was put in a coffin covered with black velvet, and removed to his lodging chamber in Whitehall.

1. More methodically arranged. 2. Spoken 3. Something. 4. This religious profession. Charles did not accept the radical Protestantism espoused by many of his opponents. 5. As was customary, Charles tips Hacker, the

person supervising the execution, in hopes of ensuring a quick death. “An’’ if. 6. A jeweled pendant representing St. George killing a dragon, worn by Knights of the Garter. The prince (following) is the king’s eldest son, later King Charles II, who had escaped to exile in France,

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POLITICAL WRITING Not surprisingly, the tumult of civil war stimulated a good deal of thinking about the nature and ends of government. The four excerpts that follow give some idea of the arguments proposed by English political writers between 1630 and 1655. Robert Filmer and Thomas Hobbes both favor an absolutist government that would concentrate power in the sovereign and deprive the people of any way to get rid of him. However, the two writers work from quite different premises. In Patriarcha, or The Natural Power of Kings Defended Against the Unnatural Liberty of the People, Filmer outlines a historical theory based on the authority of biblical patriarchs— Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, for instance—over their families. God ratified kingly

authority, Filmer argues, when he commanded the honoring of parents. Although many royalists retained a larger role for popular consent than Filmer did, Filmer’s account of the king’s fatherly care of his people, and the people’s childlike incompetence to manage political affairs, was close to the Stuart kings’ own view. Unlike Filmer, Thomas Hobbes, a gifted mathematician, believed in working from

clearly defined first principles to conclusions, grounding his political vision not on biblical history but upon a comprehensive philosophy of nature and of knowledge. He believed that human beings seek self-preservation as a primary goal, and power as a means to secure that goal; his politics spring directly from these premises. Since the best way to assure self-preservation, he argued, is to assent permanently to the creation of a strong authority, the founding political covenant cannot be revoked and rebellion against the sovereign is absurd. Hobbes’s materialism and secularism— his virtual exclusion of God from politics—scandalized both the Puritans who opposed him, and many royalists as well. The claims of royalists came under vigorous attack from the poet John Milton, who during the war years became one of the most effective polemicists for the parliamentary radicals. Milton wrote The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates in 1648, the days leading up to Charles's trial and execution, when many of those who had originally supported limiting the king’s power shrank from actually beheading him. Milton decries this hesitation, seeing it as the effect of a misdirected awe for the privileges of monarchs, All political authorities, Milton argues, hold their power in trust from the people, and the people can revoke that trust whenever they choose. Like Filmer, Milton bases his argument upon biblical history, but he cites very different passages. Filmer emphasizes the importance of fatherly authority in Genesis, which narrates the lives of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph.

Milton acknowledges that the fall of Adam and Eve corrupted human nature so that individuals were henceforth unable to govern themselves properly without external discipline. Yet, he insists, since those charged with implementing that discipline are themselves sinners, they must be kept in check by laws and by strict limitations upon their authority. In Milton’s account, problems with the exercise of authority became evident only gradually. Unlike Filmer, who assumes that the social arrangements described in Genesis are a pattern for modern political communities, Milton chooses his examples from later eras in Jewish history: for instance, the Book of Samuel, in which God disapproves of the Israelites’ desire for a king. For Filmer, Hobbes, and Milton, the central issue of the conflict between the king and Parliament is, who has ultimate authority, the king or the people? Gerrard Winstanley construes the problem differently, in primarily economic rather than political terms. Winstanley was a well-educated London linen draper who worked as a laborer in the countryside after suffering financial reverses during the war years. In his political writing, he concerns himself less with the way power is allocated than with the equitable distribution of wealth. The ownership of land is especially important to him, since it was the critical asset in a largely agrarian society. Members of

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the House of Commons, though they considered themselves the represent atives of “the people,” were actually fairly substantial property owners; indeed, those without land or income were not entitled to vote. In consequence, more than half the male population (and, of course, the entire female population) was denied the franchise. In A New Year's Gift Sent to the Parliament and Army (1650), Winstanley accuses Parliament of having merely transferred oppressive power from the king to itself, leaving most of England’s population as impoverished and downtrodden as before. Winstanley suggests a practical means to remedy his society’s inequities: “the commons,” undeveloped lands used for grazing, should be made available to poor people to farm communally. Since the commons, though traditionally used by all the residents on an estate, were legally the manorial landlord’s private property, Winstanley’s ideas were highly unpopular among landowners. Moreover, his proposal was not merely a theoretical recommendation. The year before he wrote A New Year's Gift, Winstanley and some of his followers, called Diggers, had settled on St. George’s Hill in Surrey. They planted twelve acres of grain and built a number of makeshift houses before they were violently evicted. Like Filmer and Milton, Winstanley turns to the Bible to justify his politics. And like them, he chooses passages that suit his argument. He reads contemporary history through the heady allegories of the Book of Revelation, as a confrontation between the powers of darkness and the powers of light. Jesus’s concern for the poor and scorn for the rich loom large to him, and his social vision owes much to biblical accounts of early Christian communities, which held property in common and minimized class differences.

ROBERT

FILMER

he eldest of eighteen children, Robert Filmer (1588—1653) attended Trinity Col-

lege, Cambridge, and inherited his father’s estate in Kent in 1629. When war broke out he was too old to participate as a soldier, but he was briefly imprisoned by Parliament as a known supporter of the king, and his property was seized and plundered. After his release, he published a number of treatises arguing for absolute monarchy, among them The Anarchy ofaLimited and Mixed Monarchy (1648); The Freeholder’s Grand Inquest (1648), which argued that Parliament could only meet at

the will of the king; and a translation of excerpts from the works of the French absolutist Jean Bodin. However, Filmer’s most important treatise, Patriarcha, was not among these publications. Scholars disagree about when it was written, but Filmer probably composed it in the early 1630s in the wake of Charles's conflicts with Parliament early in his reign. The treatise remained in manuscript until 1680. Printed during a heated debate between Tories (royalists) and Whigs (Parliamentarians) over the right of King Charles II's brother James to inherit the throne, Patriarcha was comprehensively savaged by John Locke in his First Treatise of Government (1690).

While Filmer’s motive in writing Patriarcha was undoubtedly close-to-home disputes between the English king and his subjects, his explicit polemical target is not Charles’s parliamentary opponents. Rather, Filmer argues against Continental political theorists such as the Jesuit Robert Cardinal Bellarmine, who had written a devastating critique of James I’s treatises on monarchy earlier in the century. Bellarmine’s aim had been to secure freedom of conscience and worship for Roman

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Catholic subjects of a Protestant monarch, by arguing that the power of monarchs was constrained by their people. Charles’s Puritan opponents would find many aspects of Bellarmine’s line of reasoning irresistible. Since in the English-speaking tradition republican concepts eventually came to be strongly associated with Puritan dissent, it is worth remembering that for much of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, it had been Protestants who advocated consolidating secular and spiritual power in the figure of a powerful king, and Catholics who had resisted that consolidation.

From Patriarcha, or The Natural Power of Kings Defended Against the Unnatural Liberty of the People From Chapter 1: That the First Kings Were Fathers of Families Since the time that school divinity’ began to flourish there hath been a common opinion maintained, as well by divines as by divers other learned men, which affirms: “Mankind is naturally endowed and born with freedom from all subjection, and at liberty to choose what form of government it please, and that the power which any one man hath over others was at first bestowed according to the discretion of the multitude.” This tenet was first hatched in the schools, and hath been fostered by all succeeding Papists for good divinity. The divines, also, of the reformed churches have entertained it, and the common people everywhere tenderly embrace it as being most plausible? to flesh and blood, for that it prodigally distributes a portion of liberty to the meanest of the multitude, who magnify liberty as if the height of human felicity were only to be found in it, never remembering that the desire of liberty was the first cause of the fall of Adam. But howsoever this vulgar’ opinion hath of late obtained a great reputation, yet it is not to be found in the ancient fathers and doctors of the primitive church. It contradicts the doctrine and history of the holy scriptures, the constant practice of all ancient monarchies, and the very principles of the law of nature. It is hard to say whether it be more erroneous in divinity or dangerous in policy.‘ *

That the patriarchs’... were endowed with kingly power, their deeds do testify; for as Adam was lord of his children, so his children under him had a command and power over their own children, but still with subordination

to the first parent, who is lord-paramount over his children’s children to all generations, as being the grandfather of his people. I see not then how the children of Adam, or of any man else, can be free from subjection to their parents. And this subjection of children being the fountain of all regal authority, by the ordination of God himself, it follows that civil power not only in general is by divine institution, but even the assignment of it specifically to the eldest parents, which quite takes away 1, Systematic theology, as undertaken by medieval philosophers in the universities (“schools”). 2. Agreeable. 3. Commonly held.

4. The conduct of public affairs. 5. Forefathers of the Jews, including Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Jacob’s twelve sons.

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that new and common distinction which refers only power universal and absolute to God, but power respective® in regard of the special form of government to the choice of the people. This lordship which Adam by command had over the whole world, and by right descending from him the patriarchs did enjoy, was as large and ample as the absolutest dominion of any monarch which hath been since the Creation. For dominion of life and death we find that Judah, the father, pronounced sentence of death against Thamar, his daughter-in-law, for playing the harlot. “Bring her forth,” saith he, “that she may be burnt.”” Touching war, we see that Abraham commanded an army of three hundred and eighteen soldiers of his own family. And Esau met his brother Jacob with four hundred men at arms. For matter of peace, Abraham made a league with Abimelech, and ratified the articles with an oath. These acts of judging in capital crimes, of making war, and concluding peace, are the chiefest marks of sovereignty that are found in any monarch. It may seem absurd to maintain that kings now are the fathers of their people, since experience shows the contrary. It is true, all kings be not the natural parents of their subjects, yet they all either are, or are to be reputed, the next heirs to those first progenitors who were at first the natural parents of the whole people, and in their right succeed to the exercise of supreme

jurisdiction; and such heirs are not only lords of their own

children, but

also of their brethren, and all others that were subject to their fathers. And

therefore we find that God told Cain of his brother Abel, “His desires shall

be subject unto thee, and thou shalt rule over him.” Accordingly, when Jacob bought his brother’s birthright, Isaac blessed him thus: “Be lord over thy brethren, and let the sons of thy mother bow before thee.”® As long as the first fathers of families lived, the name of patriarchs did aptly belong unto them; but after a few descents, when the true fatherhood itself was extinct, and only the right of the father descends to the true heir, then the title of prince or king was more significant to express the power of him who succeeds only to the right of that fatherhood which his ancestors did naturally enjoy. By this means it comes to pass that many a child, by succeeding a king, hath the right of a father over many a gray-headed mul-

titude, and hath the title of pater patriae.? To confirm this natural right of regal power, we find in the Decalogue! that the law which enjoins obedience to kings is delivered in the terms of “Honor thy father,” as if all power were originally in the father. If obedience to parents be immediately due by a natural law, and subjection to princes but by the mediation of a human ordinance, what reason is there that the laws of nature

should give place to the laws of men, as we see the power of the father over his child gives place and is subordinate to the power of the magistrate? If we compare the natural rights of a father with those of a king, we find them all one, without any difference at all but only in the latitude or extent 6. Partial, limited. 7. Genesis 38.24. The examples following also come from Genesis, 14.14, 32.6, and 21.22—27. 8. The first reference is to Genesis 4.7, which Filmer reads tendentiously as establishing the

elder brother Cain’s authority over the younger Abel, and the second is to Genesis 27.29. 9. Father of his country. 1. Ten Commandments.

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of them: as the father over one family, so the king, as father over many families, extends his care to preserve, feed, clothe, instruct, and defend the whole commonwealth. His war, his peace, his courts of justice, and all his

acts of sovereignty, tend only to preserve and distribute to every subordinate and inferior father, and to their children, their rights and privileges, so that all the duties of a king are summed up in an universal fatherly care of his people. 1620s—40s

1680

JOHN

MILTON!

From The Tenure? of Kings and Magistrates If men within themselves would be governed by reason, and not generally give up their understanding to a double tyranny, of custom from without, and blind affections* within, they would discern better what it is to favor and uphold the tyrant of a nation. But being slaves within doors,* no wonder that they strive so much to have the public state conformably governed to the inward vicious rule by which they govern themselves. For indeed none can love freedom heartily but good men; the rest love not freedom but license; which never hath more scope or more indulgence than under tyrants. Hence it is that tyrants are not oft offended nor stand much in doubt of bad men, as being all naturally servile; but in whom? virtue and true worth most is eminent, them they fear in earnest as by right their masters; against them lies all their hatred and suspicion. Consequently neither do bad men hate tyrants, but have been always readiest with the falsified names of loyalty, and obedience, to color over their base compliances.° And although sometimes for shame, and when it comes to their own grievances,

of purse especially, they would seem good patriots and side with the better cause, yet when others for the deliverance of their country, endued with

fortitude and heroic virtue to fear nothing by the curse written against those “that do the work of the lord negligently,’? would go on to remove not only the calamities and thralldoms of a people but the roots and causes whence they spring, straight these men and sure helpers at need, as if they hated only the miseries but not the mischiefs,* after they have juggled and paltered’? with the world, bandied and borne arms against their king, divested him, disanointed him, nay cursed him all over in their pulpits and their pamphlets, to the engaging of sincere and real men beyond what is possible or honest

to retreat

from,

not only turn

revolters

from

those

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

See headnote to Milton, pp. 1447-51. Terms of holding office. Impulses, passions. l.e., within their own selves. Those in whom.

7. Milton apparently refers to Jeremiah 48.10: “Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord deceitfully, and cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood.” 8. The suffering but not its causes.

a».

Make their slavishness look good.

9. Played fast and loose.

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principles which only could at first move them, but lay the stain of disloyalt y and worse on those proceedings which are the necessary consequences of their own former actions; nor disliked by themselves, were they managed to the entire advantages of their own faction; not considering the while that he toward whom they boasted their new fidelity counted them accessory;' and by those statutes and laws which they so impotently brandish against others would have doomed them to a traitor’s death for what they have done already. ’Tis true, that most men are apt enough to civil wars and commotions as a novelty, and for a flash hot and active; but through sloth or inconstancy, and weakness of spirit either fainting ere their own pretences,” though never sojust, be half attained, or through an inbred falsehood and wickedness, betray ofttimes to destruction with themselves men of noblest temper’ joined with them for causes whereof they in their rash undertakings* were not capable. a

*

No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free, being the image and resemblance of God Himself, and were by privilege above all the creatures born to command and not to obey, and that they lived so. Till from the root of Adam’s transgression,> falling among themselves to do wrong and violence, and foreseeing that such courses must needs tend to the destruction of them all, they agreed by common league to bind each other from mutual injury, and jointly to defend themselves against any that gave disturbance or opposition to such agreement. Hence came cities, towns, and commonwealths. And because no faith in all

was found sufficiently binding,® they saw it needful to ordain some authority that might restrain by force and punishment what was violated against peace and common right. This authority and power of self-defense and preservation being originally and naturally in every one of them, and unitedly in them all, for ease, for order, and lest each man should be his own partial’ judge, they communicated and derived® either to one, whom for the eminence of his wisdom and integrity they chose above the rest, or to more than one whom they thought of equal deserving: the first was called a king, the other magistrates. Not to be their lords and masters (though afterward those names in some places were given voluntarily to such as had been authors? of inestimable good to the people) but to be their deputies and commissioners, to execute, by virtue of their entrusted power, that justice which else every man by the bond of nature and of convenant must have executed for himself and for one another. And to him that shall consider well why among free persons, one man by civil right! should bear authority and jurisdiction over another, no other end or reason can be imaginable. These? for a while governed well, and with much equity decided all things at their own arbitrament:? till the temptation of such a power left absolute in their hands,

1. Guilty of being accessories to a crime. 2. Purposes. 3. Character. 4. Attempts, enterprises. 5. Adam's fall introduced sin and violence into human life. 6. Because merely trusting people to behave them-

selves did not suffice to control them. 7. Biased. 8. Delegated. 9. 1. 2. 3.

Doers.

Law. Kings and magistrates. Judgment.

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perverted them at length to injustice and partiality. Then did they who now by trial* had found the danger and inconveniences of committing arbitrary power to any, invent laws either framed or consented to by all, that should confine and limit the authority of whom they chose to govern them: that so man,” of whose failing they had proof, might no more rule over them, but law and reason abstracted as much as might be from personal errors and frailties. While® as the magistrate was set above the people, so the law was set above

the magistrate.

When

this would

not serve,

but that the law

was either not executed or misapplied, they were constrained from that time, the only remedy left them, to put conditions’ and take oaths from all kings and magistrates at their first installment to do impartial justice by law: who upon those terms and no other received allegiance from the people, that is to say, bond or covenant to obey them in execution of those laws which they the people had themselves made or assented to. And this ofttimes with express warning, that if the king or magistrate proved unfaithful to his trust, the people would be disengaged.* They added also counselors and parliaments, nor to be only at his beck,’ but with him or without him,

at set times, or at all times when any danger threatened to have care of the public safety. a

Bs

x

It being thus manifest that the power of kings and magistrates is nothing else but what is only derivative, transferred and committed to them in trust from the people, to the common good of them all, in whom the power yet remains fundamentally, and cannot be taken from them without a violation of their natural birthright; and seeing that from hence Aristotle! and the best of political writers have defined a king, him who governs to the good and profit of his people and not for his own ends, it follows from necessary causes that the titles of sovereign lord, natural lord, and the like, are either

arrogancies or flatteries, not admitted? by emperors and kings of best note, and disliked by the church both of Jews, Isaiah 26.13, and ancient Chris-

tians, as appears by Tertullian and others.* Although generally the people of Asia, and with them the Jews also, especially since the time they chose a king against the advice and counsel of God,* are noted by wise authors much inclinable to slavery. Secondly, that to say, as is usual, the king hath as good right to his crown and dignity as any man to his inheritance, is to make the subject no better than the king's slave, his chattel or his possession that may be bought and sold. And doubtless if hereditary title were sufficiently inquired, the best foundation of it would be found either but in courtesy or convenience. But suppose it to be of right hereditary, what can be more just and legal, if a

4. Experience. “They”: the people who had delegated power to the kings and magistrates. 5. An individual man. 6. Thus.

7. Specify restrictions on. 8. Freed from having to obey. 9. The king’s command. Charles had claimed that Parliament could not assemble unless called into session by the king. 1. In Nicomachean Ethics 8.11.1.

2. Permitted. 3. Isaiah 26.13: “O Lord our God, other lords beside thee have had dominion over us; but by thee only will we make mention of thy name.” The

Church Father Tertullian wrote against earthly monarchs in On the Crown. 4. The Israelites, traditionally governed by judges, demanded a king despite God’s warning against monarchy, as conveyed by the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 8).

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subject for certain crimes be to forfeit by law from himself, and posterity, all his inheritance to the king,> than that a king for crimes proportional should forfeit all his title and inheritance to the people: unless the people must be thought created all for him, he not for them, and they all in one body inferior to him single, which were a kind of treason against the dignity of mankind to affirm. Thirdly it follows that to say kings are accountable to none but God is the overturning of all law and government. For if they may refuse to give

account,

then all covenants

made with them at coronation, all oaths are

in vain and mere mockeries, all laws which they swear to keep made to no purpose; for if the king fear not God—as how many of them do not?—we hold then our lives and estates by the tenure of his mere grace and mercy, as from a God, not a mortal magistrate, a position that none but court parasites or men besotted would maintain.

It follows lastly, that since the king or magistrate holds his authority of the people, both originally and naturally for their good in the first place, and not his own, then may the people as oft as they shall judge it for the best, either choose him or reject him, retain him or depose him though no tyrant, merely by the liberty and right of freeborn men to be governed as seems to them best. 1649 5. Convicted felons forfeited their property to the king.

GERRARD

WINSTANLEY

he demand for democratic elections by a political faction called the Levelers raised the fear in Cromwell and his conservative associates that, with unpropertied voters outnumbering the propertied by five to one, they might divide or even abolish private property. That was in fact the program of a small group calling themselves True Levelers or, later, Diggers, who were a group of Christian communists. Their leader was Gerrard Winstanley (1609—16762), a failed businessman and

subsequently a hired laborer, who began to publish tracts in 1648, became notorious in 1649 with the attempted enactment of the Diggers’ program, and lapsed back into obscurity after his last published work in 1652. In the spring of 1649, the Diggers began to put their ideals into practice, digging up the wasteland of St. George’s Hill in Surrey and preparing it for crops. Though this land was not enclosed, all over England landowners claimed property rights in such common land, and the Diggers’ gesture of cultivation here and in a few other Digger communities made a threatening counterclaim on behalf of the poor and propertyless. Their aim was at one level practical: at least one-third of England, they claimed, was barren waste, and if properly cultivated could vastly increase the food supply, to the great benefit of the poor. At another level their aim was ideological, a fundamental challenge to the concept of private ownership of land, as the tract excerpted here argues—at least in regard to the common land. The army and

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the civil authorities were not very hard on the Diggers, but the local landholders were, beating them up, expelling them, and destroying their several settlements. But their often-eloquent tracts survived to inspire later communes.

From A New Year’s Gift! Sent to the Parliament and Army Gentlemen of the Parliament and army: you and the common people have assisted each other to cast out the head of oppression which was kingly power seated in one man’s hand, and that work is now done; and till that

work was done you called upon the people to assist you to deliver this distressed, bleeding, dying nation out of bondage; and the people came and failed you not, counting neither purse nor blood too dear to part with to effect this work. The Parliament after this have made an act to cast out kingly power, and

to make England a free commonwealth. These acts the people are much rejoiced with, as being words forerunning their freedom, and they wait for their accomplishment that their joy may be full; for as words without action are a cheat and kills the comfort of a righteous spirit, so words performed in action does comfort and nourish the life thereof. Now, sirs, wheresoever we spy out kingly power, no man I hope shall be troubled to declare it, nor afraid to cast it out, having both act of Parliament,

the soldiers’ oath, and the common people’s consent on his side; for kingly power is like a great spread tree, if you lop the head or top bough, and let the other branches and root stand, it will grow again and recover fresher strength. If any ask me what kingly power is, I answer, there is a twofold kingly power. The one is the kingly power of righteousness, and this is the power of almighty God, ruling the whole creation in peace and keeping it together. And this is the power of universal love, leading people into all truth, teaching everyone to do as he would be done unto: now once more striving with flesh and blood, shaking down everything that cannot stand, and bringing everyone into the unity of himself, the one spirit of love and righteousness, and so will work a thorough restoration. But this kingly power is above all and will tread all covetousness, pride, envy, and self-love, and all other ene-

mies whatsoever, under his feet, and take the kingdom and government of the creation out of the hand of self-seeking and self-honoring flesh,? and rule the alone king of righteousness in the earth; and this indeed is Christ himself, who will cast out the curse.* But this is not that kingly power intended by that act of Parliament to be cast out, but pretended to be set up, though this kingly power be much fought against both by Parliament, army, clergy, and people; but when they are made to see him, then they shall mourn because they have persecuted him.4 1. In 17th-century England, gifts were customarily exchanged on New Year's Day, not at Christmas. 2. “Flesh” is imagined as everything mortal and fallible, that which rebels against divine righteousness. 3. The curse upon mankind that was the pun-

ishment of Adam’s fall. 4. I.e., Parliament and the army do not expressly intend to cast out God's kingly power, but rather they act as if they are conforming to God’s teachings. and yet often they resist God until they are brought to recognize him.

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But the other kingly power is the power of unrighteousness, which indeed is the devil. And O, that there were such a heart in Parliament and army as to perform your own act.> Then people would never complain of you for breach of covenant, for your covetousness, pride, and too much self-seeking that is in you. And you on the other side would never have cause to complain of the people’s murmurings against you. Truly this jarring that is between you and the people is the kingly power; yea that very kingly power which you have made an act to cast out. Therefore see it be fulfilled on your part; for the kingly power of righteousness expects it, or else he will cast you out for hypocrites and unsavory salt;° for he looks upon all your actions, and truly there is abundance of rust about your actings, which makes them that they do not shine bright. This kingly power is covetousness in his branches,’ or the power of selflove ruling in one or in many men over others and enslaving those who in the creation are their equals; nay, who are in the strictness of equity rather their masters. And this kingly power is usually set in the chair of government under the name of prerogative’ when he rules in one over other: and under the name of state privilege of Parliament when he rules in many over others: and this kingly power is always raised up and established by the sword, and therefore he is called the murderer, or the great red dragon which fights against Michael,’ for he enslaves the weakness of the people under him, denying an equal freedom in the earth to everyone, which the

law of righteousness gave every man in his creation. This I say is kingly power

under darkness; and as he rules in men, so he makes men jar one against

another, and is the cause of all wars and complainings. He is known by his outward actions, and his action at this very day fills all places; for this power of darkness rules, and would rule, and is that only enemy that fights against creation and national freedom. And this kingly power is he which you have made an act of Parliament to cast out. And now, you rulers of England, play the men and be valiant for the truth, which is Christ: for assure yourselves God will not be mocked, nor the devil will not be mocked. For first you say and profess you own! the scriptures of prophets and apostles, and God looks that you should perform that word in action. Secondly you have declared against the devil, and if you do not now go through with your work but slack your hand by hypocritical self-love, and so suffer this dark kingly power to rise higher and rule, you shall find he will maul both you and yours to purpose.” ps

a

In the time of the kings, who came in as conquerors and ruled by the power of the sword, not only the common land but the enclosures* also were 5. Enforce the act already passed by Parliament. 6. Matthew 5.13: “Ye are the salt of the earth: but

if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.” 7. Le., covetousness is one manifestation of unrigh-

teous kingly power. 8. The monarch’s special powers. 9. Revelation 12.3—9: “And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having

seven

heads

and

ten

horns,

and

seven

crowns upon his heads. .. heaven: Michael and his the dragon; and the dragon and prevailed not; neither

‘ . And there was war in angels fought against fought and his angels, / was their place found

any more in heaven. / And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world.” 1. Acknowledge. 2. Thoroughly. 3. Privately held land.

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captivated under the will of those kings, till now of late that our later kings granted more freedom to the gentry than they had presently after the Conquest:+ yet under bondage still. For what are prisons, whips, and gallows in the times of peace but the laws and power of the sword, forcing and compelling obedience, and so enslaving as if the sword raged in the open field? England was in such a slavery under the kingly power that both gentry and commonalty’ groaned under bondage; and to ease themselves, they endeavored to call a parliament, that by their counsels and decrees they might find some freedom. But Charles the then king perceiving that the freedom they strove for would derogate from his prerogative tyranny,° thereupon he goes into the north to raise a war against the Parliament; and took William the Conqueror’s sword into his hand again, thereby to keep under the former conquered English, and to uphold his kingly power of self-will and prerogative, which was the power got by former conquests; that is, to rule over the lives and estates of all men at his will, and so to make us pure slaves and vassals. Well, this Parliament, that did consist of the chief lords, lords of manors,

and gentry, and they seeing that the king, by raising an army, did thereby declare his intent to enslave all sorts to him by the sword; and being in distress and in a low ebb, they call upon the common people to bring in their plate, monies, taxes, free-quarter, excise,’ and to adventure their lives with them, and they would endeavor to recover England from that Norman yoke and make us a free people. And the common people assent hereunto, and call this the Parliament's cause, and own it and adventure person and purse to preserve it; and by the joint assistance of Parliament and people the king was beaten in the field, his head taken off, and his kingly power voted down. And we the commons thereby virtually have recovered ourselves from the Norman conquest; we want nothing but possession of the spoil,® which is a free use of the land for our livelihood. And from hence we the common people, or younger brothers,’ plead our property in the common land as truly our own by virtue ofthis victory over the king, as our elder brothers can plead property in their enclosures; and that for three reasons in England’s law. First, by a lawful purchase or contract between the Parliament and us;

for they were our landlords and lords of manors, that held the freedom of the commons from us! while the king was in his power; for they held title thereunto from him,” he being the head and they branches of the kingly power that enslaved the people by that ancient conqueror’s sword, that was the ruling power. For they said, “Come and help us against the king that enslaves us, that we may be delivered from his tyranny, and we will make you a free people.”

4. The conquest of England by the Norman William the Conqueror in 1066. Winstanley argued that the oppression of the poor and the landless was a consequence of nearly six centuries of occupation of England by a foreign power. 5. Common people. 6. Absolute rule. 7. A tax on domestically manufactured goods, first imposed by Parliament in 1643 to finance the

quarter”: free room and board for soldiers, or its

war against the king. “Plate”: silver plate. “Free-

their allegiance.

monetary equivalent imposed as a tax.

8. Reward of victory. 9. Estates commonly passed to the eldest brother, leaving the younger brothers landless. 1. Kept the right to use the common lands from us, the common people. 2. Under the feudal system, the great lords held their lands on grant from the king, in return for

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Now they cannot make us free unless they deliver us from the bondage? which they themselves held us under; and that is, they held the freedom of the earth from us: for we in part with them have delivered ourselves from the king. Now we claim freedom from that bondage you have and yet do

hold us under, by the bargain and contract between Parliament and us, who, I say, did consist of lords of manors and landlords, whereof Mr. Drake,* who

hath arrested me for digging upon the common, was one at that time. Therefore by the law of bargain and sale we claim of them our freedom, to live comfortably with them in this land of our nativity; and this we cannot do so long as we lie under poverty, and must not be suffered to plant the commons and wasteland for our livelihood. For take away the land from any people, and those people are in a way of continual dearth and misery; and better not to have had a body, than not to have food and raiment for it. But, I say, they have sold us our freedom in the common, and have been largely paid for it; for by means of our bloods and money they sit in peace: for if the king had prevailed, they had lost all, and been in slavery to the meanest cavalier, if the king would.’ Therefore we the commons say, give us our bargain: if you deny us our bargain, you deny God, Christ, and scriptures; and all your profession® then is and hath been hypocrisy. Secondly, the commons and crown land is our property by equal conquest over the kingly power: for the Parliament did never stir up the people by promises and covenant to assist them to cast out the king and to establish them in the king’s place and prerogative power. No, but all their declarations were for the safety and peace of the whole nation. Therefore the common people being part of the nation, and especially they that bore the greatest heat of the day in casting out the oppressor; and the nation cannot be in peace so long as the poor oppressed are in wants and the land is entangled and held from them by bondage. But the victory being obtained over the king, the spoil, which is properly the land, ought in equity to be divided now between the two parties, that is Parliament and common people. The Parliament, consisting of lords of manors and gentry, ought to have their enclosure lands free to them without molestation. ...And the common people, consisting of soldiers and such as paid taxes and free-quarter, ought to have the freedom of all waste and common land and crown land equally among them. The soldiery ought not in equity to have all, nor the other people that paid them to have all; but the spoil ought to be divided between them that stayed at home and them that went to war; for the victory is for the whole nation. And as the Parliament declared they did all for the nation, and not for

themselves only; so we but for the freedom of them likewise by taxes dom with them in this

plead with the army, they did not fight for themselves, the nation: and I say, we have bought our freedom of and free-quarter. Therefore we claim an equal freeconquest over the king.

3. Technically bondage refers to the services and goods legally required by feudal landowners of their tenants.

mune. At first sympathetic to the Diggers, Drake eventually took legal action to have them evicted. 5. To the lowest soldier of the king, if the king so

4. Sir Francis

commanded.

Drake,

a member

of Parliament

who owned St. George’s Hill, on which Winstanley and his followers had established a com-

]

6. Statement of principles.

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Thirdly, we claim an equal portion in the victory over the king by virtue of the two acts of Parliament: the one to make England a free commonwealth, the other to take away kingly power. Now the kingly power, you have heard, is a power that rules by the sword in covetousness and self, giving the earth to some and denying it to others: and this kingly power was not in the hand of the king alone, but lords, and lords of manors, and corrupt judges and lawyers especially held it up likewise. For he was the head and they, with the tithing priests,’ are the branches of that tyrannical kingly power; and all the several limbs and members must be cast out before kingly power can be pulled up root and branch. Mistake me not, I do not say, cast out the persons’ of men. No, I do not desire their fingers to ache;* but I say, cast out their power whereby they hold the people in bondage, as the king held them in bondage. And I say, it is our own freedom we claim, both by bargain and by equality in the conquest; as well as by the law of righteous creation which gives the earth to all equally. And the power of lords of manors lies in this: they deny the common people the use and free benefit of the earth, unless they give them leave and pay them for it, either in rent, in fines, in homages or heriots.? Surely the earth was never made by God that the younger brother should not live in the earth unless he would work for and pay his elder brother rent for the earth. No, this slavery came in by conquest, and it is part of the kingly power; and England cannot be a free commonwealth till this bondage be taken away. You have taken away the king; you have taken away the House of Lords. Now step two steps further, and take away the power of lords of manors and of tithing priests, and the intolerable oppressions of judges by whom laws are corrupted; and your work will be honorable. Fourthly, if this freedom be denied the common people, to enjoy the common land; then Parliament, army, and judges will deny equity and reason, whereupon the laws of a well-governed commonwealth ought to be built. And if this equity be denied, then there can be no law but club law! among the people: and if the sword must reign, then every party will be striving to bear the sword; and then farewell peace; nay, farewell religion and gospel, unless it be made use of to entrap one another, as we plainly see

some priests and others make it a cloak for their knavery. If |adventure my life and fruit of my labor equal with you, and obtain what we strive for; it is both equity and reason that I should equally divide the spoil with you, and not you to have all and | none. And if you deny us this, you take away our property from us, our monies and blood, and give us nothing for it. Therefore, I say, the common land is my own land, equal with my fellowcommoners, and our true property, by the law of creation. It is everyone’s, but not one single one’s. . . . True religion and undefiled is this, to make restitution of the earth, which hath been taken and held from the common people by the power of conquests formerly, and so set the oppressed free. Do not

7. Priests of the Church of England were legally entitled to a tenth, or “tithe,” of the goods of every parishioner; those people who wished to separate from the established church fiercely resented the involuntary nature of the tithe.

8. Wish 9. Fees addition 1. That

the least physical harm to them. or goods paid by tenants to landlords in to rent. is, might makes right.

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all strive to enjoy the land? The gentry strive for land, the clergy strive for land, the common people strive for land; and buying and selling is an art whereby people endeavor to cheat one another of the land. Now if any can prove from the law of righteousness that the land was made peculiar to him and his successively,” shutting others out, he shall enjoy it freely for my part. But | affirm it was made for all; and true religion is to let everyone enjoy it. Therefore, you rulers of England, make restitution of the lands which the kingly power holds from us: set the oppressed free, and come in and honor Christ, who is the restoring power, and you shall find rest. 1650 2. By inheritance.

THOMAS

HOBBES

he English civil war and its aftermath raised fundamental questions about the nature and legitimacy of state power. In 1651 Thomas Hobbes (1588—1679) attempted to answer those questions in his ambitious masterwork of political philosophy, Leviathan. He grounded his political vision upon a comprehensive philosophy of nature and knowledge. Hobbes held that everything in the universe is composed only of matter; spirit does not exist. All knowledge is gained through sensory impressions, which are nothing but matter in motion. What we call the self is, for Hobbes, simply a tissue of sensory impressions—clear and immediate in the presence of the objects that evoke them, vague and less vivid in their absence. As a

result, an iron determinism of cause and effect governs everything in the universe, including human action. Because, Hobbes argues, all humans are roughly equal mentally and physically, they possess equal hopes of attaining goods, as well as equal fears of danger from others. In the state of nature, prior to the foundation of some sovereign power to keep them in awe, everyone is continually at war with everyone else, and life, in Hobbes’s memorable phrase, is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” To escape this ghastly strife, humans covenant with one another to establish a sovereign government over all of them. That sovereign power—which need not be a king but is always indivisible— incorporates the wills and individuality of them all, so that the people no longer have rights or liberties apart from the sovereign’s will. The sovereign’s dominion over his subjects extends to the right to pronounce on all matters of religion. While other versions of covenant theory, for instance Milton’s Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, insisted that the power transferred by the people to the sovereign could be limited or revoked, in Hobbes’s system, the founding political covenant must be a permanent one, since no tyranny can be so evil as the state of war that the sovereign power prevents. Yet if the sovereign power should be overthrown, the individual ruler has no further claim, and the people, for their safety, must accept the new sovereign unconditionally. Hobbes was generally associated with the royalist cause, as a tutor to the Cavendish family and as an exile in Paris from 1640 to

1651, where he tutored the future Charles II. Yet his argument made no distinction between a legitimate monarch and a successful usurper, like Oliver Cromwell. Moreover, Hobbes’s philosophical materialism led many to suspect him of atheism;

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after the Restoration, the publication of many of his books, including a history of the civil war entitled Behemoth, was prohibited for a number of years. Undeterred, Hobbes continued to write on a variety of psychological, political, and mathematical topics, completing a translation of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey at the age of eighty-six. Hobbes’s political theory did not fit easily into the established patterns of English thought partly because his perspective was unusually cosmopolitan. Educated at Oxford as a classicist, Hobbes traveled widely in Europe between 1610 and 1660 as a companion and tutor of noblemen, often remaining abroad for years at a time. During these lengthy sojourns he became acquainted with many of the leading intellectuals and scientists on the Continent, including Galileo, Descartes, and the prominent French mathematician Pierre Gassendi, who argued that the universe was governed entirely by mechanical principles. The most important political philosophers for Hobbes were also Continental figures: the Italian Niccol6 Machiavelli, who saw human beings as naturally competitive and power hungry, and Jean Bodin, a French theorist of indivisible, absolute monarchy. One English writer who did influence

Hobbes

profoundly was

Francis

Bacon, whose amanuensis

Hobbes

had been in Bacon’s last years. Ironically, Hobbes was not invited to join the Royal Society, established after the Restoration on Baconian principles, because his religious views were suspect and because he had quarreled with several of the society’s founders. Yet Hobbes is truly Bacon’s heir, sharing Bacon’s utter lack of sentimentality and a memorably astringent prose style.

From Leviathan! From The Introduction

[THE ARTIFICIAL MAN|

Nature (the art whereby God hath made and governs the world) is by the art of man, as in many other things, so in this also imitated, that it can make an artificial* animal. For seeing life is but a motion of limbs, the beginning whereof is in some principal part within, why may we not say that all automata (engines that move themselves by springs and wheels as doth a watch) have an artificial life?? For what is the heart but a spring; and the nerves but so many strings; and the joints but so many wheels, giving motion to the whole body such as was intended by the artificer? Art goes yet further, imitating that rational and most excellent work of nature, man. For by art is created that great Leviathan called a Commonwealth or State (in Latin, Civitas), which is but an artificial man, though of greater stature and strength than the natural, for whose protection and defense it was intended; and in which the sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life and motion to the whole body; the magistrates and other officers of judicature and execution, artificial joints; reward and punishment (by which, fastened to the seat of the sovereignty, every joint and member is moved to perform his duty) are the nerves, that do the same in the body natural; the wealth and riches 1. The title refers to the primordial sea creature Leviathan, described in Job 41 as the prime evidence of and analogue to God's power, beyond all human measure and comprehension. Hobbes takes him as figure for the sovereign power in the state. Leviathan was also sometimes taken

as a figure for Satan, on the basis of Job 41.34: “he is a king over all the children of pride.” 2. Made by art. 3. Hobbes’s definition of life as motion collapses the distinction between the life of humans and the life of machines or institutions.

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of all the particular members are the strength; salus populi (the people’s safety) its business; counselors, by whom all things needful for it to know are suggested unto it, are the memory; equity and laws an artificial reason

and will; concord, health; sedition, sickness; and civil war, death. Lastly,

the pacts and covenants by which the parts of this body politic were at first made, set together, and united, resemble that Fiat or the “let us make man,”

pronounced by God in the creation.*

From Part 1. Of Man CHAPTER

|. OF SENSE

Concerning the thoughts of man, I will consider them first singly and afterwards in train or dependence upon one another. Singly, they are every one a representation or appearance of some quality or other accident of a body without us, which is commonly called an object. Which object worketh on the eyes, ears, and other parts of man’s body, and by diversity of working produceth diversity of appearances. The original of them all is that which we call sense. (For there is no conception in a man’s mind which hath not at first, totally or by parts, been begotten upon the organs of sense.)° The rest are derived from that original. To know the natural cause of sense is not very necessary to the business now in hand, and I have elsewhere written of the same at large. Nevertheless, to fill each part of my present method, | will briefly deliver the same in this place. The cause of sense is the external body or object which presseth the organ proper to each sense, either immediately as in the taste and touch, or mediately, as in seeing, hearing, and smelling; which pressure, by the mediation of nerves and other strings and membranes of the body continued inwards to the brain and heart, causeth there a resistance or counterpressure or endeavor of the heart to deliver itself;° which endeavor, because outward,

seemeth to be some matter without. And this seeming or fancy is that which men call sense; and consisteth, as to the eye, in a light or color figured; to the ear, in a sound; to the nostril in an odor; to the tongue and palate in a savor; and to the rest of the body in heat, cold, hardness, softness, and such

other qualities as we discern by feeling. All which qualities called “sensible”” are, in the object that causeth them, but so many several motions of the

matter by which it presseth our organs diversely. Neither, in us that are pressed, are they anything else but diverse motions; for motion produceth nothing but motion. But their appearance to us is fancy, the same waking, that dreaming. And as pressing, rubbing, or striking the eye makes us fancy a light; and pressing the ear produceth a din; so do the bodies also we see or hear produce the same by their strong though unobserved actions. For if those colors and sounds were in the bodies or objects that cause them, they 4. Genesis 1.26. 5. This view of the mind as a blank sheet written on by physical experience will influence the philosophy of John Locke and David Hume.

6. Hobbes’s physiology of sense is, in keeping with his premises, strictly mechanical. 7. l.e., accessible through the senses.

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Non esl polestas Sup:

*) Power of A Comon Way TH EoorestAstl CAL and CIVIL.

By THomas Hoppers

of

>.

MALMESBVRY

Lordon

Cudled for Andover! Crooke

Leviathan. Abraham Bosse’s frontispiece for Leviathan was based on a sketch by Hobbes. The “Leviathan” or commonwealth is shown as a gigantic human figure holding a scepter and a sword; the figure is made up of many tiny individual humans who have joined together in the social contract. Hobbes’s royalist sympathies are betrayed in the figure’s face, which is that of King Charles. The small pictures in the lower part of the engraving display the various attributes of civil power on the left, and ecclesiastical power on the right.

could not be severed from them, as by glasses* and in echoes by reflection we see they are; where we know the thing we see is in one place, the appearance in another. And though at some certain distance the real and very object seem invested with the fancy it begets in us, yet still the object is one thing, the image or fancy is another. So that sense in all cases is nothing 8. Mirrors.

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else but original fancy, caused (as I have said) by the pressure, that is by the motion, of external things upon our eyes, ears, and other organs thereunto

ordained. But the philosophy schools? through all the universities of Christendom,

grounded upon certain texts of Aristotle, teach another doctrine, and say for the cause of vision, that the thing seen sendeth forth on every side a visible species—in English, a visible show, apparition, or aspect, or a being seen— the receiving whereof into the eye is seeing. And for the cause of hearing, that the thing heard sendeth forth an audible species, that is an audible aspect or audible being seen, which entering at the ear maketh hearing. Nay for the cause of understanding also they say the thing understood sendeth forth intelligible species, that is an intelligible being seen, which coming into the understanding makes us understand. I say not this as disapproving the use of universities, but because | am to speak hereafter of their office in a commonwealth, I must let you see on all occasions by the way what things would be amended in them; amongst which the frequency of insignificant speech! is one.

CHAPTER

13. OF THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND AS CONCERNING THEIR FELICITY AND MISERY

Nature hath made men so equal in the faculties of body and mind as that, though there be found one man sometimes manifestly stronger in body or of quicker mind than another, yet when all is reckoned together, the difference between man and man is not so considerable as that one man can thereupon claim to himself any benefit, to which another may not pretend as well as he. For as to the strength of body, the weakest has strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret machination, or by confederacy* with others that are in the same danger with himself. And as to the faculties of the mind—setting aside the arts grounded upon words, and especially that skill of proceeding upon general and infallible rules, called science; which very few have, and but in few things; as

being not a native faculty, born with us; nor attained, as prudence, while we look after somewhat else—I find yet a greater equality amongst men than that of strength. For prudence is but experience, which equal time equally bestows on all men, in those things they equally apply themselves unto. That which may perhaps make such equality incredible is but a vain conceit of one’s own wisdom, which almost all men think they have in a greater degree than the vulgar—that is, than all men but themselves and a few others, whom by fame, or for concurring with themselves, they approve. For such is the nature of men, that howsoever they may acknowledge many others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more learned, yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise as themselves; for they see their own wit at hand, and other men’s at a distance. But this proveth rather that men

are in that point equal, than unequal. For there is not ordinarily a greater 9. Led by the Scholastic philosophers (school-

the idols of the marketplace and the theater in

men).

Novum

1. Unmeaningful speech. Cf. Bacon’s critique of

2. Alliance.

Organum

43—44

and 59—62.

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sign of the equal distribution of anything than that every man is contented with his share. From this equality of ability ariseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. And therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to their end (which is principally their own conservation, and sometimes their delectation® only) endeavor to destroy or subdue one another. And from hence it comes to pass, that where an invader hath no more to fear than another man’s single power, if one plant, sow, build, or possess a convenient seat, others may probably be expected to come prepared with forces united, to dispossess and deprive him, not only of the fruit of his labor, but also of his life or liberty. And the invader again is in the like danger of another. And from this diffidence* of one another, there is no way for any man to secure himself so reasonable as anticipation; that is, by force or wiles to master the persons of all men he can, so long, till he see no other power great enough to endanger him; and this is no more than his own conservation requireth, and is generally allowed. Also because there be some, that taking pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of conquest, which they pursue farther than their security requires; if others that otherwise would be glad to be at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion increase their power, they would not be able long time, by standing only on their defense, to subsist. And by consequence, such augmentation of dominion over men being necessary to a man’s conservation, it ought to be allowed him. Again, men have no pleasure, but on the contrary a great deal of grief, in keeping company, where there is no power able to overawe them all. For every man looketh that his companion should value him at the same rate he sets upon himself; and upon all signs of contempt, or undervaluing, naturally endeavors, as far as he dares (which amongst them that have no common power to keep them in quiet, is far enough to make them destroy each other), to extort a greater value from his contemners? by damage, and from

others by the example. So that in the nature of man, we find three principal causes of quarrel. First, competition; secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory. The first maketh men invade for gain; the second, for safety; and the third, for reputation. The first use violence to make themselves masters of other men’s persons, wives, children, and cattle; the second, to defend them; the third, for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of undervalue, either direct in their persons, or by reflection in their kindred, their friends, their nation, their profession, or their name.

Hereby it is manifest that during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war as is of every man against every man. For war consisteth not in battle only, or the act of fighting, but in a tract of time wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficiently known; and therefore the notion of time is to be considered in the nature of war, as it is in the nature of weather. For as the nature of foul weather lieth not in a shower or two of rain, but in an

3. Pleasure. 4. Lack of faith, mistrust.

5. Scorners.

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inclination thereto of many days together; so the nature of war consisteth

not in actual fighting, but in the known disposition thereto, during all the time there is no assurance to the contrary. All other time is peace. Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of war, where every man

is enemy to every man, the same is consequent to the time wherein men

live without other security than what their own strength and their own invention shall furnish them withal. In such condition there is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving, and removing, such things as require much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and, which is

worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man,

solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. It may seem strange to some man that has not well weighed these things, that nature should thus dissociate and render men apt to invade and destroy one another; and he may therefore, not trusting to this inference, made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the same confirmed by experience. Let him therefore consider with himself, when taking a journey, he arms himself

and seeks to go well accompanied; when going to sleep, he locks his doors; when even in his house he locks his chests; and this when he knows there be laws, and public officers, armed, to revenge all injuries shall be done him; what opinion he has of his fellow subjects, when he rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his doors; and of his children and servants, when

he locks his chests. Does he not there as much accuse mankind by his actions, as I do by my words? But neither of us accuse man’s nature in it.

The desires and other passions of man are in themselves no sin. No more are the actions that proceed from those passions, till they know a law that forbids them, which, till laws be made, they cannot know; nor can any law be made, till they have agreed upon the person that shall make it. It may peradventure be thought there was never such a time nor condition of war as this; and I believe it was never generally so, over all the world; but there are many places where they live so now. For the savage people in many places of America, except the government of small families, the concord whereof dependeth on natural lust, have no government at all and live at this day in that brutish manner as I said before. Howsoever, it may be perceived what manner of life there would be, where there were no common power to fear, by the manner of life which men that have formerly lived under a peaceful government use to degenerate into in a civil war.® But though there had never been any time wherein particular men were in a condition of war one against another, yet in all times, kings and persons of sovereign authority, because of their independency, are in continual jealousies, and in the state and posture of gladiators; having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another; that is, their forts, garrisons,

and guns upon the frontiers of their kingdoms, and continual spies upon their neighbors, which is a posture of war. But because they uphold thereby

6. Hobbes is thinking of the recent civil wars in England, and perhaps also of the Greek civil wars described by Thucydides (whom he translated).

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the industry of their subjects, there does not follow from it that misery which accompanies the liberty of particular men. To this war of every man against every man, this also is consequent: that nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, have there no place. Where there is no common power, there is no law; where no law, no injustice. Force and fraud are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice and injustice are none of the faculties neither of the body nor mind. If they were, they might be in a man that were alone in the world, as well as his senses and passions. They are qualities that relate to men in society, not in solitude. It is consequent also to the same condition that there be no propriety,’ no dominion, no mine and thine distinct; but only that to be every man’s, that he can get; and for so long as he can keep it. And thus much for the ill condition which man by mere nature is actually placed in; though with a possibility to come out of it, consisting partly in the passions, partly in his reason. The passions that incline men to peace are fear of death, desire of such things as are necessary to commodious living, and a hope by their industry to obtain them. And reason suggesteth convenient articles of peace, upon which men may be drawn to agreement. These articles are they which otherwise are called the Laws of Nature, whereof I shall speak more particularly in the two following chapters. FROM CHAPTER

14. OF THE

FIRST AND

SECOND

NATURAL

LAWS

The Right of Nature, which writers commonly call ius naturale, is the liberty each man hath to use his own power as he will himself for the preservation of his own nature, that is to say, of his own life; and consequently of doing anything which in his own judgment and reason he shall conceive to be the aptest means thereunto. By Liberty is understood, according to the proper signification of the word, the absence of external impediments, which impediments may oft take away part of a man’s power to do what he would, but cannot hinder him from using the power left him according as his judgment and reason shall dictate to him. A Law of Nature (lex naturalis) is a precept or general rule found out by reason, by which a man is forbidden to do that which is destructive of his life or taketh away the means of preserving the same; and to omit that by which he thinketh it may be best preserved. For though they that speak of this subject use to confound* Ius and Lex, Right and Law, yet they ought to be distinguished, because Right consisteth in liberty to do or to forbear, whereas Law determineth and bindeth to one of them: so that Law and Right differ as much as obligation and liberty, which in one and the same matter are inconsistent.

And because the condition of man (as hath been declared in the precedent chapter) is a condition of war of every one against every one, in which case every one is governed by his own reason, and there is nothing he can make use of that may not be a help unto him in preserving his life against his enemies: it followeth that in such a condition every man has a right to 7. Property.

8. Confuse.

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every thing, even to one another's body. And therefore as long as this natural right of every man to every thing endureth, there can be no security to any man (how strong or wise soever he be) of living out the time which nature ordinarily alloweth men to live. And consequently it is a precept or general rule of reason, That every man ought to endeavor peace, as far as he has hope of obtaining it; and when he cannot obtain it, that he may seek and use all helps and advantages of war. The first branch of which rule containeth the first and fundamental law of nature, which is to seek peace and follow it. The second, the sum of the right of nature, which is, by all means we can to defend ourselves. From this fundamental law of nature, by which men are commanded to endeavor peace, is derived this second law: That a man be willing, when oth-

ers are so too, as far-forth as? for peace and defense of himself he shall think it necessary, to lay down this right to all things, and be contented with so much liberty against other men as he would allow other men against himself. For as long as any man holdeth this right of doing anything he liketh, so long are all men in the condition of war. But if other men will not lay down their right, as well as he, then there is no reason for anyone to divest himself of his. For that were to expose himself to prey (which no man is bound to) rather than to dispose himself to peace. This is that law of the Gospel: Whatsoever you require that others should do to you, that do ye to them: ae

FROM

CHAPTER

15. OF OTHER

LAWS

OF NATURE

From that law of nature by which we are obliged to transfer to another such rights as, being retained, hinder the peace of mankind,

there followeth a

third, which is this: That men perform their covenants made:? without which, covenants are in vain, and but empty words; and, the right of all men to all things remaining, we are still in the condition of war. And in this law of nature consisteth the fountain and original ofJustice. For where no covenant hath preceded, there hath no right been transferred, and every man has right to every thing; and consequently no action can be unjust. But when a covenant is made, then to break it is unjust; and the definition of injustice is no other than the not performance of covenant. And whatsoever is not unjust is just. * * * For the question is not of promises mutual where there is no security of performance on either side, as when there is no civil power erected over

the parties promising; for such promises are no covenants. But either where one of the parties has performed already, or where there is a power to make him perform: there is the question whether it be against reason, that is against the benefit of the other, to perform or not. And I say it is not against reason.’ For the manifestation whereof, we are to consider: first, that when

a man doth a thing which (notwithstanding anything can be foreseen and

9. Insofar as. 1. The Golden Rule: Matthew 7.12, Luke 6.31. 2. Though the terms are general, Hobbes refers in this chapter especially to the covenants men make with each other when they transfer power

to the sovereign. Milton makes very different use of covenant theory to justify the rebellion and regicide in The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. 3. l.e., to perform the promise.

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reckoned on) tendeth to his own

destruction, howsoever*

some

accident,

which he could not expect, arriving may turn it to his benefit; yet such events do not make it reasonably or wisely done. Secondly, that in a condition of war, wherein every man to every man, for want of a common power to keep them all in awe, is an enemy, there is no man can hope by his own strength or wit to defend himself from destruction without the help of confederates; where everyone

expects the same

defense by the confederation

that anyone else does. And therefore he which declares he thinks it reason to deceive those that help him can in reason expect no other means of safety than what can be had from his own single power. He therefore that breaketh his covenant, and consequently declareth that he thinks he may with reason do so, cannot be received into any society that unite themselves for peace and defense, but by the error of them that receive him; nor when he is received be retained in it without seeing the danger of their error; which errors a man cannot reasonably reckon upon as the means of his security. And therefore if he be left or cast out of society, he perisheth; and if he live in society, it is by the errors of other men, which he could not foresee nor reckon upon; and

consequently against the reason of his preservation; and so as all men that contribute not to his destruction forbear him only out of ignorance of what is good for themselves. As for the instance of gaining the secure and perpetual felicity of heaven by any way, it is frivolous: there being but one way imaginable, and that is not breaking, but keeping of covenant. And for the other instance of attaining sovereignty by rebellion, it is manifest that though the event follow, yet because it cannot reasonably be expected, but rather the contrary; and because by gaining it so others are taught to gain the same in like manner, the attempt thereof is against reason. Justice therefore, that is to say, keeping of covenant, is a rule of reason, by which we are forbidden to do anything destructive to our life, and consequently a law of nature.

From Part 2: Of Commonwealth CHAPTER

17. OF THE

CAUSES,

GENERATION,

AND

DEFINITION

OF A

COMMONWEALTH

The final cause, end, or design of men, who naturally love liberty and dominion over others, in the introduction of that restraint upon themselves in which we see them live in commonwealths, is the foresight of their own preservation and of a more contented life thereby—that is to say, of getting themselves out from their miserable condition of war which is necessarily consequent, as has been shown (Chapter 13), to the natural passions of men

when there is no visible power to keep them in awe and tie them by fear of punishment to the performance of their convenants and observation of those laws of nature set down in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters.

4. Even though.

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For the laws of nature—as justice, equity, modesty, mercy, and, in sum, doing to others as we would be done to—of themselves, without the terror of some power to cause them to be observed, are contrary to our natural passions, that carry us to partiality,’ pride, revenge, and the like. And covenants without the sword are but words, and of no strength to secure a man at all. Therefore, notwithstanding the laws of nature (which everyone has then kept when he had the will to keep them, when he can do it safely), if there be no power erected, or not great enough for our security, every man will—and may lawfully—rely on his own strength and art for caution® against all other men. And in all places where men have lived by small families, to rob and spoil one another has been a trade, and so far from being reputed against the law of nature that the greater spoils they gained, the greater was their honor; and men observed no other laws therein but the laws of honor— that is to abstain from cruelty, leaving to men their lives and instruments of

husbandry. And as small families did then, so now do cities and kingdoms, which are but greater families, for their own security enlarge their dominions upon all pretenses of danger and fear of invasion or assistance that may be given to invaders, and endeavor as much as they can to subdue or weaken their neighbors by open force and secret arts, for want of other caution, justly; and are remembered for it in after ages with honor.

Nor is it the joining together of a small number of men that gives them this security, because in small numbers small additions on the one side or the other make the advantage of strength so great as is sufficient to carry the victory, and therefore gives encouragement to an invasion. The multitude sufficient to confide in for our security is not determined by any certain number but by comparison with the enemy we fear, and is then sufficient when the odds of the enemy is not of so visible and conspicuous moment to determine the event’ of war as to move him to attempt. And be there never so great a multitude, yet if their actions be directed according to their particular judgments and particular appetites, they can expect thereby no defense nor protection, neither against a common enemy nor against the injuries of one another. For being distracted in opinion® concerning the best use and application of their strength, they do not help but hinder one another, and reduce their strength by mutual opposition to nothing; whereby they are easily not only subdued by a very few that agree together, but also, when there is no common

enemy, they make war upon

each other for their particular interest. For if we could suppose a great multitude of men to consent in the observation of justice and other laws of nature without a common power to keep them all in awe, we might as well suppose all mankind to do the same, then there neither would be, nor need to be, any civil government

or commonwealth

at all, because there would

be peace without subjection. Nor is it enough for the security which men desire should last all the time of their life that they be governed and directed by one judgment for a limited time, as in one battle or one war. For though they obtain a victory by their unanimous

endeavor against a foreign enemy, yet afterwards, when either

5. Favoritism, to oneselfor another. 6. Precaution, defense.

7. Outcome. 8. I.e., by opinions.

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they have no common enemy or he that by one part is held for an enemy is by another part held for a friend, they must needs, by the difference of their interests, dissolve and fall again into a war among themselves. It is true that certain living creatures, as bees and ants, live sociably one with another—which are therefore by Aristotle numbered among political creatures—and have no other direction than their particular judgments and appetites, nor speech whereby one of them can signify to another what he thinks expedient for the common benefit; and therefore some man may perhaps desire to know why mankind cannot do the same. To which I answer: First, that men are continually in competition for honor and dignity, which these creatures are not; and consequently among men there arises on that ground envy and hatred and finally war, but among these not so. Secondly, that among these creatures the common good differs not from the private; and being by nature inclined to their private, they procure thereby the common benefit. But man, whose joy consists in comparing himself with other men, can relish nothing but what is eminent.

Thirdly, that these creatures—having not, as man, the use of reason—do not see nor think they see any fault in the administration of their common business; whereas among men there are very many that think themselves wiser and abler to govern the public better than the rest, and these strive to reform and innovate, one this way, another that way, and thereby bring it into distraction and civil war. Fourthly, that these creatures, though they have some use of voice in making known to one another their desires and other affections, yet they want that art of words by which some men can represent to others that which is good in the likeness of evil, and evil in the likeness of good, and augment or diminish this apparent greatness of good and evil, discontenting men and troubling their peace at their pleasure. Fifthly, irrational creatures cannot distinguish between injury and damage, and therefore, as long as they be at ease, they are not offended with their fellows; whereas man is then most troublesome when he is most at ease, for then it is that he loves to show his wisdom and control the actions

of them that govern the commonwealth. Lastly, the agreement of these creatures is natural, that of men is by covenant only, which is artificial, and therefore it is no wonder if there be somewhat else required besides covenant to make their agreement constant and lasting, which is a common power to keep them in awe and to direct their actions to the common benefit. The only way to erect such a common power as may be able to defend them from the invasion of foreigners and the injuries of one another, and thereby to secure them in such sort as that by their own industry and by the fruits of the earth they may nourish themselves and live contentedly, is to confer all their power and strength upon one man, or upon one assembly of men that may reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, into one will, which is as much as to say, to appoint one man or assembly of men to bear their person, and everyone to own and acknowledge himself to be the author of whatsoever

he that so bears their person shall act or cause to be acted in those things which concern the common peace and safety, and therein to submit their wills everyone to his will, and their judgments to his judgment. This is more

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than consent or concord; it is a real unity of them all in one and the same person, made by covenant of every man with every man, in such manner as if every man should say to every man, “I authorize and give up my right of governing myself to this man, or to this assembly of men, on the condition that you give up your right to him and authorize all his actions in like manner.” This done, the multitude so united in one person is called a commonwealth, in Latin civitas. This is the generation of that great Leviathan (or rather, to speak more reverently, of that mortal god) to whom we owe, under the immortal God, our peace and defense. For by this authority, given him by every particular man in the commonwealth, he has the use of so much power and strength conferred on him that, by terror thereof, he is enabled to form the wills of them all to peace at home and mutual aid against their

enemies abroad. And in him consists the essence of the commonwealth,

which, to define it, is one person, of whose acts a great multitude, by mutual covenants one with another, have made themselves everyone the author, to the end he may use the strength and means of them all as he shall think expedient for their peace and common defense. And he that carries this person is called sovereign and said to have sovereign power; and everyone besides, his subject. 1651

WRITING THE SELF The seventeenth century saw an explosion of interest in the intimate texture of day-to-day experience, in the sometimes surprising twists and turns of individual lives, in the relationship between character and destiny. Of course, such concerns were not entirely new: Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales had dwelt lovingly upon the quirky diversity of its pilgrims. Some seventeenth-century writers looked back as well to classical or foreign precedents: the Lives of the late-classical biographer Plutarch, with their marvelously revelatory anecdotes and shrewd assessments of human moral complexity, the essays of the French Michel de Montaigne, who described his own opinions and experiences in frank detail. Both Plutarch and Montaigne profoundly influenced William Shakespeare, whose unparalleled gift for delineating character has led one recent critic to credit him with having “invented the human.” Other writers, particularly religious ones, owed much to the medieval tradition of hagiography, or the narrating of the lives of saints and martyrs as models for the faithful to admire and imitate. Izaak Walton, in biographies of John Donne, George Herbert, and other worthies that draw upon his personal experience with them as well as upon his research, was one practitioner in a Protestant hagiographic tra-

dition (pp. 976—80).

the importance

Other Protestants directed their gaze inward, convinced of

of spiritual self-scrutiny ummediated

by ritual or clergyman.

Many Puritans kept spiritual accountings in writing—part diaries, part prayers—

that effectively substituted for the Catholic practice of oral confession to a priest. During the civil war and its aftermath, interest in “writing the self” only intensified. For the autobiographically inclined, the physical and ideological turmoil of the midcentury could intensify a sense of the individual’s isolation and uniqueness, forcing (or permitting) him to experience a range of events for which his upbringing

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could not have prepared him. Those who reflected upon the history of the period, as Lucy Hutchinson and Edward Hyde did, were often enthralled by the clash of strong personalities as well as the struggle between political principles, social trends, or cultural movements.

Both Hutchinson

and Hyde, from their different

ends of the political spectrum, saw Cromwell and Charles I as locked in a fateful rivalry, each leader a complex mixture of personal strengths and failings. The prominence of women writers in this section is no accident. Even though women were excluded from formal political participation, the war contributed to the development of their political interests and consciousness, and sometimes allowed them to play important informal or improvised roles in momentous events. The resourceful, adventurous Anne Halkett obviously relished her daring contribution to the rescue of the Duke of York. Some women writers explicitly eschewed a feminist agenda: Lucy Hutchinson’s trenchant historical analysis coexists with thoroughly traditional beliefs about the proper submission of wife to husband and about the danger of women with political ambition, notably Charles I’s queen. She excuses her own writing, to others and perhaps also to herself, by casting her work as a tribute to her beloved husband. In other cases, a challenge to political authority is inextricable from an assault on male privilege. Dorothy Waugh, a Quaker, refused like others of her faith to defer to political or religious authorities and insisted on the spiritual equality between women and men. Waugh suffered as much on account of her sex as on account of her religion, for she describes how the mayor of Carlisle is outraged not only by her unauthorized preaching but by the fact that the preacher is female. She is punished by being forced to wear a “scold’s bridle,” a traditional humiliation meted out to outspoken, argumentative women who refused to obey their husbands.

LUCY ucy Hutchinson,

HUTCHINSON

née Apsley (1620—1681),

whose

life centered

in the North

Country city of Nottingham, was a staunch republican, memoirist, poet, translator of Lucretius, and biographer and historian of the revolutionary period. In a fragmentary autobiography, she relates that she could read English perfectly by the age of four, and that “having a great memory, I was carried to sermons, and while I was very young could remember and repeat them . . . exactly.” Her parents allowed her to receive at home as good an education as her brothers got at school She reports that her future husband learned of her existence by noticing some of her Latin books. She was married at eighteen to John Hutchinson, a man of unyielding conviction and courage: he fought in the Puritan armies, served as governor of Nottingham Castle, sat in the Long Parliament, voted for the execution of Charles I, supported the republican commonwealth (1649-53), but withdrew support from Cromwell when he overrode and dismissed parliaments. Hutchinson was arrested after the Restoration and died in prison in 1664. After his death his wife of twentysix years wrote Memoirs of the Life of Colonel John Hutchinson, purportedly to preserve his memory for her children. But within that eyewitness account of the remarkable period they had lived through, she enfolded a broad history of and commentary upon the Puritan movement and the revolution. Almost certainly she hoped for a broader audience of nonconformists and republicans who might someday revive the “Good Old Cause,” though because of its politics this work was not published until 1806. Also unpublished in her lifetime were several elegiac and

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satiric poems, as well as most of a long but unfinished epic poem, Order and Disorder, which treats biblical history from the Creation to the story of Jacob in twenty cantos, the first five of which were published in 1679. Much of the poem is indebted to Paradise Lost.

From Memoirs of the Life of Colonel John Hutchinson [CHARLES I AND HENRIETTA MARIA|

The face of the court was much changed in the change of the king; for King Charles was temperate, chaste, and serious, so that the fools and bawds,

mimics and catamites! of the former court grew out of fashion; and the nobility and courtiers, who did not quite abandon their debaucheries, yet so reverenced the king as to retire into corners to practice them. Men of learning and ingenuity in all arts were in esteem, and received encouragement from the king, who was a most excellent judge and great lover of paintings, carvings, gravings,* and many other ingenuities, less offensive than the bawdry and profane abusive? wit which was the only exercise of the other court. But, as in the primitive times,‘ it is observed that the best emperors were some of them stirred up by Satan to be the bitterest persecutors of the church, so this king was a worse encroacher upon the civil and spiritual liberties of his people by far than his father. He married a papist,° a French lady of a haughty spirit, and a great wit and beauty, to whom he became a most uxorious husband. By this means the court was replenished with papists, and many who hoped to advance themselves by the change, turned to that religion. All the papists in the kingdom were favored, and, by the king’s example, matched into the best families. The puritans were more than ever discountenanced® and persecuted, insomuch that many of them chose to abandon their native country and leave their dearest relations, to retire into any foreign soil or plantation’ where they might amidst all outward inconveniences enjoy the free exercise of God’s worship. Such as could not flee were tormented in the bishops’ court,® fined, whipped, pilloried, imprisoned, and suffered to enjoy no rest, so that death was better than life to them; and notwithstanding their patient sufferance of all these things, yet was not the king satisfied till the whole land was reduced to perfect slavery. The example of the French king’ was propounded to him, and he thought himself no monarch so long as his will was confined to the bounds of any law; but knowing that the people of England were not pliable to an arbitrary rule, he plotted to subdue them to his yoke by a foreign force;' and till he could effect it made no conscience of granting anything

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Clowns and homosexuals. Engravings. Satiric. Early Christian period. Roman Catholic. Thwarted, out of favor. Colony, such as the Massachusetts Bay Col-

ony, founded in 1630. “Inconveniences”

ing): misfortunes.

(follow-

8. Courts administered by the Church of England tried and punished those who refused to attend church services, frequented alternative religious gatherings, or disputed church doctrines or policies. 9. The French king reigned without a parliament. 1. Puritans suspected that Charles planned to invite Catholic forces to invade his realm in order

to consolidate his own power.

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to the people, which he resolved should not oblige him longer than it served his turn; for he was a prince that had nothing of faith or truth, justice or generosity in him. He was the most obstinate person in his self-will that ever was, and so bent upon being an absolute, uncontrollable sovereign that he was resolved either to be such a king or none. His firm adherence to prelacy” was not for conscience of one religion more than another, for it was his principle that an honest man might be saved in any profession; but he had a mistaken principle that kingly government in the state could not stand without episcopal government in the church; and therefore, as the bishops flattered him with preaching up his prerogative,’ and inveighing against the puritans as factious and disloyal, so he protected them in their pomp and pride and insolent practices against all the godly and sober people of the land. x

He

But above all these the king had another instigator of his own violent purpose, more powerful than all the rest; and that was the queen, who, grown out of her childhood, began to turn her mind from those vain extravagancies she lived in at first to that which did less become her, and was more

fatal to the kingdom; which is never in any place happy where the hands which were made only for distaffs affect* the management of scepters. If any one object the fresh example of Queen Elizabeth, let them remember that the felicity of her reign was the effect of her submission to her masculine and wise counselors; but wherever male princes are so effeminate as to suffer women of foreign birth and different religions to intermeddle with the affairs of state, it is always found to produce sad desolations; and

it hath been observed that a French queen never brought any happiness to England. Some kind of fatality’ too the English imagined to be in her name of Marie, which, it is said, the king rather chose to have her called by than her other, Henrietta, because the land should find a blessing in that name which had been more unfortunate;° but it was not in his power, though a

great prince, to control destiny. This lady being by her priests affected with the meritoriousness of advancing her own religion, whose principle it is to subvert all other, applied that way her great wit and parts,’ and the power her haughty spirit kept over her husband, who was enslaved in his affection only to her, though she had no more passion for him than what served to promote her design. Those brought her into a very good correspondence with the archbishop® and his prelatical crew, both joining in the cruel design of rooting the godly out of the land. ... But how much soever their designs were framed in the dark, God revealed them to his servants,

and most miraculously ordered providences for their preservation. 1806 2. Rule of the church by bishops. 3. Kingly powers. 4. Aspire to. “Distaff”: spinning staff, emblem of female household management. 5. Fatefulness. 6. “Bloody Mary” Tudor, queen of England from 1553 to 1558, reintroduced Roman Catholicism to England and burned many Protestants for heresy; the Scottish Mary, Queen of Scots, also

Catholic, was executed in 1587 for plotting to assassinate Elizabeth I. 7. Abilities. 8. William Laud, archbishop

of Canterbury,

favored a highly ritualized form of worship that Puritans

considered

tantamount

to

Roman

Catholicism. He was executed by the Parliamentarians in 1645,

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EARL OF CLARENDON

dward Hyde (1609-1674) was educated at Oxford and during the 1630s practiced law. From about 1641 onward, he was among the chief supporters and advisers of Charles I; he went into exile with the boy who was to become Charles II and was privy to the various plots and plans of the royalists to restore him to power. After the Restoration he became lord chancellor and prime minister to Charles I], and he was instrumental in enacting the so-called Clarendon Code, a series of harsh laws against all nonconformists to the reestablished Church of England. He was impeached in 1667, owing partly to England’s ill success in the Dutch War, and spent the last seven years of his life in France. Clarendon wrote part of his great History of the Rebellion amid the events it describes. For the Muse of History such a short view can be a mixed blessing. But Clarendon’s learning—legal, classical, and historical—and the formality of his method save him from many of the failings of partisanship. He wrote with dignity and for posterity. His History, which first appeared in print thirty years after his death, was remarkable not only for the largeness of its canvas but also for the force and coherence of the conservative social philosophy informing it. As a historian and rhetorician, Clarendon invites comparison with his classical models, Thucydides and Tacitus. As an evaluator of character, he invites comparison with Plutarch, whose judiciousness he shares.

From The History of the Rebellion [THE CHARACTER OF OLIVER CROMWELL|!

About the middle of August he was seized on by a common tertian ague,? from which he believed a little ease and divertissement at Hampton Court? would have freed him; but the fits grew stronger and his spirits much abated, so that he returned again to Whitehall,* when his physicians began to think him in danger, though the preachers who prayed always about him and told God Almighty what great things he had done for Him, and how much more need He had still of his service, declared as from God that he should recover, and he himself did not think he should die, till even the time

that his spirits failed him, and then declared to them that he did appoint his son to succeed him, his eldest son Richard. And so expired upon the third day of September (a day he thought always very propitious to him, and on which he had triumphed for several victories),’ 1658, a day very memorable 1. After the manner of ancient historians, Clar-

endon

describes

the last days, sickness,

and

death of Cromwell, then summarizes his charac-

3. Hampton Court, built by Cardinal Wolsey and ceded by him to Henry VIII, is a splendid old palace up the Thames from London. “Divertisse-

ter. The Protector, who had been depressed for some time by the death of a favorite daughter, first grew ill in the summer of 1658.

4. Whitehall,

2. An acute fever, with paroxysms recurring every

5. Dunbar and Worcester were important

third day.

tles that Cromwell had won on September 3.

ment”: diversion. in

London,

was

the

traditional

residence of the head of state.

bat-

1422

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GRESIS*

© ReA Uti EOiiny.

for the greatest storm of wind that had been ever known for some hours before and after his death, which overthrew trees, houses, and made great wrecks at sea, and was so universal that there were terrible effects of it both

in France and Flanders, where all people trembled at it, besides the wrecks all along the coast, many boats having been cast away in the very rivers; and within few days after, that circumstance of his death that accompanied that storm was known. He was one of those men quos vituperare ne inimici quidem possunt, nisi ut simul laudent,®° for he could never have done half that mischief without great parts of courage and industry and judgment, and he must have had a wonderful understanding in the natures and humors of men, and as great

a dexterity in the applying them, who from a private and obscure birth (though of a good family), without interest of estate, alliance, or friendships,

could raise himself to such a height, and compound and knead such opposite and contradictory tempers, humors, and interests into a consistence that contributed to his designs and to their own destruction, whilst himself grew insensibly powerful enough to cut off those by whom he had climbed, in the instant that they projected to demolish their own building.’ What Velleius Paterculus said of Cinna may very justly be said of him, Ausuwm eum quae nemo auderet bonus, perfecisse quae a nullo nisi fortissimo perfici possunt.® Without doubt no man with more wickedness ever attempted anything, or brought to pass what he desired more wickedly, more in the face and contempt of religion and moral honesty; yet wickedness as great as his could never have accomplished those trophies without the assistance of a great spirit, an admirable circumspection and sagacity, and a most magnanimous resolution. When he appeared first in the Parliament he seemed to have a person in no degree gracious, no ornament of discourse, none of those talents which use to reconcile the affections of the standers-by; yet as he grew into place and authority, his parts? seemed to be renewed, as if he had concealed faculties till he had occasion to use them, and when he was to act

the part of a great man, he did it without any indecency! through the want of custom. After he was confirmed and invested Protector by the Humble Petition and Advice,* he consulted with very few upon any action of importance, nor communicated any enterprise he resolved upon with more than those who were to have principal parts in the execution of it, nor to them sooner than was absolutely necessary. What he once resolved, in which he was not rash, he would not be dissuaded from, nor endure any contradiction of his power and authority, but extorted obedience from them who were not willing to yield it.

6. “Whom not even his enemies could curse without praising him.” The source of the phrase is unknown. 7. Clarendon’s judgment can be compared with that of Marvell in “An Horatian Ode” (pp. 1356— 61). “Insensibly”: imperceptibly. 8. “He dared undertake what no good man would have tried and triumphed where only the strongest of men could have succeeded.” Velleius Paterculus (died 30 c.£.) wrote a concise History of Rome;

the quotation is from 2.24. 9. Personal qualities. 1. Indecorum. 2. In December 1653, Cromwell was invested as Protector under a written constitution called the Instrument of Government. In 1657 another constitution, the Humble Petition and Advice,

invested him with quasi-monarchical powers and restored the House of Lords.

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When he had laid some very extraordinary tax upon the city, one Cony, an eminent fanatic,’ and one who had heretofore served him very notably, positively refused to pay his part and loudly dissuaded others from submitting to it, as an imposition notoriously against the law and the property of the subject, which all honest men were bound to defend. Cromwell sent for him and cajoled him with the memory of the old kindness and friendship that had been between them, and that of all men he did not expect this opposition from him in a matter that was so necessary for the good of the commonwealth. But it was always his fortune to meet with the most rude and obstinate behavior from those who had formerly been absolutely governed by him, and they commonly put him in mind of some expressions and sayings of his own in cases of the like nature. So this man remembered? him how great an enemy he had expressed himself to such grievances, and declared that all who submitted to them and paid illegal taxes were more to blame, and greater enemies to their country, than they who imposed them; and that the tyranny of princes could never be grievous but by the tameness and stupidity of the people. When Cromwell saw that he could not convert him, he told him that he

had a will as stubborn as his, and he would try which of them two should be master, and thereupon with some terms of reproach and contempt he committed the man to prison—whose courage was nothing abated by it, but as

soon as the term came, he brought his habeas corpus’ in the King’s Bench,

which they then called the Upper Bench. Maynard, who was of counsel with the prisoner, demanded his liberty with great confidence, both upon the illegality of the commitment and the illegality of the imposition,° as being laid without any lawful authority. The judges could not maintain or defend either, but enough declared what their sentence would be, and therefore the

Protector’s attorney required a further day to answer what had been urged. Before that day, Maynard was committed to the Tower for presuming to question or make doubt of his authority, and the judges were sent for and severely reprehended for suffering that license; and when they with all humility mentioned the law, and Magna Carta, Cromwell

told them their Magna Carta

should not control his actions, which he knew were for the safety of the commonwealth. He asked them who made them judges; whether they had any authority to sit there but what he gave them, and that if his authority were at an end, they knew well enough what would become of themselves. And therefore advised them to be more tender of that which could only preserve them, and so dismissed them with caution that they should not suffer the lawyers to prate what it would not become them to hear. Thus he subdued a spirit that had been often troublesome to the most sovereign power, and made Westminster Hall’ as obedient and subservient to his commands as any of the rest of his quarters. In all other matters which did not concern the life of his jurisdiction, he seemed to have great

3. In Clarendon’s vocabulary, a radical Puritan. “The city”: the City of London. 4. Reminded. 5. Writ to release a prisoner.

7. The center of the law courts and legal profession. Clarendon never tells us what happened to poor George Cony; the lawyer and judges made their submission and got off, but the fate of the

6. I.e., the original tax.

plaintiff remains obscure.

1424

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CRASESMOR

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yi

reverence for the law, and rarely interposed between party and party; and as he proceeded with this kind of indignation and haughtiness with those who were refractory and dared to contend with his greatness, so towards those who complied with his good pleasure and courted his protection he used a wonderful civility, generosity, and bounty. To reduce three nations which perfectly hated him to an entire obedience to all his dictates, to awe and govern those nations by an army that was indevoted to him and wished his ruin, was an instance of a very prodigious address;* but his greatness at home was but a shadow of the glory he had abroad. It was hard to discover which feared him most, France, Spain,

or the Low Countries, where his friendship was current at the value he put upon it; and as they did all sacrifice their honor and their interest to his pleasure, so there is nothing he could have demanded that either of them would have denied him.

He was not a man of blood, and totally declined Machiavel’s method, which prescribes upon any alteration of a government, as a thing absolutely necessary, to cut off all the heads of those, and extirpate their families, who are

friends to the old;? and it was confidently reported in the Council of Officers, it was more than once proposed that there might be a general massacre of all the royal party as the only expedient to secure the government, but Cromwell would never consent to it, it may be out of too much contempt of his enemies. In a word, as he had all the wickednesses against which damnation is denounced and for which hellfire is prepared, so he had some virtues which have caused the memory of some men in all ages to be celebrated, and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave, bad man. 1702-4 8. Skill. “Indevoted”: Clarendon’s word, carefully coined to express the far from unanimous

LADY ANNE

feelings of the army. 9. See The Prince, chapters 3 and 7.

HALKETT

ady Anne Halkett, née Anne Murray (1622—1699), was born into a family of the

royal household; her father was a tutor to Prince Charles, later Charles I. Her

allegiance to the royalist cause was an attachment by comparison with which her several love affairs were mere incidents. Halkett was a tough and active partisan who, more directly than most women of her day, engaged in the intrigues of the civil

wars. With one of her particular admirers, Colonel Bamfield, she assisted the young

Duke of York (future King James II of England) in making his escape from parliamentary custody. Her account of this adventure appeared in her memoirs, published many years later. We pick up the story in April 1648 with the question of Colonel Bamfield’s intentions.

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From The Memoirs [SPRINGING THE DUKE]

This gentleman came to see me sometimes in the company of ladies who had been my mother’s neighbors in St. Martin’s Lane, and sometimes alone, but

whenever

he came

his discourse

was

serious, handsome,

and tending to

impress the advantages of piety, loyalty, and virtue; and these subjects were so agreeable to my own inclination that I could not but give them a good reception, especially from one that seemed to be so much an owner of them himself. After I had been used to freedom of discourse with him, I told him I approved much of his advice to others, but I thought his own practice contradicted much of his profession, for one of his acquaintance had told me he had not seen his wife in a twelvemonth, and it was impossible in my opinion for a good man to be an ill husband; and therefore he must defend himself from one before I could believe the other of him. He said it was not necessary to give everyone that might condemn him the reason of his being so long from her, yet to satisfy me he would tell me the truth, which was that, he being engaged in the king's service,' he was obliged to be at London where it was not convenient for her to be with him, his stay in any place being uncertain; besides, she lived amongst her friends who, though they were kind to her, yet were not so to him, for most of that country had declared for the Parliament and were enemies to all that had or did serve the king, and therefore his wife, he was sure, would not condemn him for what he did by her own consent. This seeming reasonable, I did insist no more upon that subject. At this time he had frequent letters from the king, who employed him in several affairs, but that of the greatest concern which he was employed in was to contrive the Duke of York’s escape out of St. James? (where His Highness and the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess Elizabeth lived under the care of the Earl of Northumberland and his lady). The difficulties of it was represented by Colonel Bamfield; but His Majesty still pressed it, and I remember this expression was in one of the letters: “I believe it will be difficult, and if he miscarry in the attempt, it will be the greatest affliction that can arrive to me; but I look upon James’s escape as Charles’s preservation,’ and nothing can content me more; therefore be careful what you do.” This letter, amongst others, he showed me, and where the king approved of his choice of me to entrust with it, for to get the duke’s clothes made and to dress him in his disguise. So now all Colonel Bamfield’s business and care was how to manage this business of so important concern, which could not be performed without several persons’ concurrence in it, for he being generally known as one whose stay at London was in order to serve the king, few of those who were entrusted by the Parliament in public concerns durst own converse or hardly civility to him, lest they should have been suspect 1. The service of Charles I, then a close prisoner of the parliamentary army under Cromwell. In less than a year he would be executed. 2. St. James's Palace, the royal residence. The two named below were other children of Charles I. 3. Charles I must have feared the capture or

assassination of the heir apparent, Prince Charles, then in France with his mother, Queen Henrietta Maria. If the younger son, James, were alive and at liberty, there would be no point in such an attempt to cut off the succession.

1426

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EGRIUSTSROFIAUT HO RIT ¥

by their party, which made it difficult for him to get access to the duke. But, to be short, having communicated the design to a gentleman attending His Highness who was full of honor and fidelity, by his means he had private access to the duke, to whom he presented the king’s letter and order to His Highness for consenting to act what Colonel Bamfield should contrive for his escape, which was so cheerfully entertained and so readily obeyed, that being once designed there was nothing more to do than to prepare all things for the execution. I had desired him to take a ribbon with him and bring me the bigness of the duke’s waist and his length, to have clothes made fit for him. In the meantime, Colonel Bamfield was to provide money for all necessary expense, which was furnished by an honest citizen. When I gave the measure to my tailor to inquire how much mohair would serve to make a petticoat and waistcoat to a young gentlewoman of that bigness and stature, he considered it a long time, and said he had made many gowns and suits, but he had never made any to such a person in his life. I thought he was in the right; but his meaning was he had never seen any woman of so low a stature have so big a waist. However, he made it as exactly fit as if he had taken the measure himself. It was a mixed mohair of a light hair color and black, and the under-petticoat was scarlet. All things being now ready, upon the 20th of April 1648 in the evening was the time resolved for the duke’s escape. And in order to that, it was designed for a week before every night as soon as the duke had supped he and those servants that attended His Highness (till the Earl of Northumberland and the rest of the house had supped) went to a play called hide and seek,* and sometimes he would hide himself so well that in half an hour's time they could not find him. His Highness had so used them to this that when he went really away they thought he was but at the usual sport. A little before the duke went to supper that night, he called for the gardener, who only had a treble key besides that which the duke had, and bid him give him that key till his own was mended, which he did. And after His Highness had supped, he immediately called to go to the play, and went down the privy stairs into the garden, and opened the gate that goes into the park, treble locking all the doors behind him. And at the garden gate Colonel Bamfield waited for His Highness, and putting on a cloak and periwig, hurried him away to the park gate, where a coach waited that carried them to the waterside, and,

taking the boat that was appointed for that service, they rowed to the stairs next the bridge, where | and Miriam? waited in a private house hard by that Colonel Bamfield had prepared for dressing His Highness, where all things were in a readiness. But I had many fears, for Colonel Bamfield had desired me, if they came not there precisely by ten o'clock, to shift for myself, for then I might conclude they were discovered, and so my stay there could do no good but prejudice myself. Yet this did not make me leave the house though ten oclock did strike, and he that was entrusted often went to the landing place and saw no boat coming was much discouraged, and asked me what I would do. I told him I came there with a resolution to serve His Highness, and I was fully determined not to leave that place till | was out of hopes of doing what I came there for, and would take my hazard. He left me to go 4. As a boy of fourteen, James could play such a game without arousing suspicion and could be dis-

guised without much difficulty in women’s clothes. 5. Anne Murray’s personal maidservant.

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again to the waterside, and while I was fortifying myself against what might arrive to me, I heard a great noise of many as | thought coming upstairs, which I expected to be soldiers to take me, but it was a pleasing disappointment, for the first that came in was the duke, who with much joy I took in my arms and gave God thanks for his safe arrival. His Highness called “Quickly, quickly, dress me!”; and, putting off his clothes, I dressed him in the women’s habit that was prepared, which fitted His Highness very well, and was very pretty in it.

After he had eaten something I made ready while I was idle, lest His Highness should be hungry, and having sent for a Wood Street cake (which I knew he loved) to take in the barge, with as much haste as could be His Highness went cross the bridge to the stairs where the barge lay, Colonel Bamfield leading him; and immediately the boatmen plied the oar so well that they were soon out of sight, having both wind and tide with them. But I afterwards heard the wind changed, and was so contrary that Colonel Bamfield told me he was terribly afraid they should have been blown back again. And the duke said, “Do anything with me rather than let me go back again,” which put Colonel Bamfield to seek help where it was only to be had, and, after he had most fervently supplicated assistance from God, presently the wind blew fair, and they came safely to their intended landing place. But I heard there was some difficulty before they got to the ship at Gravesend, which had like to have discovered them had not Colonel Washington’s lady® assisted them. After the duke’s barge was out of sight of the bridge, I and Miriam went where I appointed the coach to stay for me, and made drive as fast as the coachman could to my brother's house, where I stayed. I met none in the way that gave me any apprehension that the design was discovered, nor was it noised abroad till the next day, for (as I related before) the duke having used to play at hide and seek, and to conceal himself along time, when they missed him at the same play, thought he would have discovered himself as formerly when they had given over seeking him. But a much longer time being passed than usually was spent in that divertissement, some began to apprehend that His Highness was gone in earnest past their finding, which made the Earl of Northumberland (to whose care he was committed), after strict search made

in the house of St. James and all thereabouts to no purpose, to send and acquaint the Speaker of the House of Commons that the duke was gone, but how or by what means he knew not, but desired that there might be orders sent to the Cinque Ports’ for stopping all ships going out till the passengers were examined and search made in all suspected places where His Highness might be concealed. Though this was gone about with all the vigilancy imaginable, yet it pleased God to disappoint them of their intention by so infatuating those several persons who were employed for writing orders that none of them were able to write one right, but ten or twelve of them were cast by before one was according to their mind. This account I had from Mr. N. who was mace-bearer to the Speaker all that time and a witness of it. This disorder of the clerks

6. Most likely, the wife of Colonel Henry Washington, a royalist soldier (and distant relative of George Washington). 7. A group of channel ports, originally five in num-

ber (cinque is French for “five”); most English shipping to or from the Continent passed through them.

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contributed much to the duke’s safety, for he was at sea before any of the orders came to the ports, and so was free from what was designed if they had taken His Highness. Though several were suspected for being accessory to the escape, yet they could not charge any with it but the person who went away, and he being out of their reach, they took no notice as either to examine or imprison others.* 1778 8. Despite this romantic beginning to their friendship, Colonel Bamfield and Murray never did get together, because Bamfield’s estranged wife was still living. In 1656 Murray married Sir James Halkett.

DOROTHY

WAUGH

round 1647, a group of disciples began forming around the charismatic itinerant preacher George Fox. Like many religious radicals of the period, Fox taught the importance of relying upon the Inner Light—one’s own conscience as guided by the Holy Spirit—in preference to human law or holy writ. Fox believed that the days of prophecy and revelation had not ended in biblical times but were ongoing, so that the teachings of Scripture were open to revision. Moreover, sacred illumination was available to all sincere believers regardless of sex, education, or social rank. Fox’s followers were derisively called “Quakers” because, in the grip of a visitation by the Holy Spirit, they would suffer paroxysms similar to epileptic convulsions. Because Quakers believed all human beings to be spiritually equal, they refused to perform the acts of deference that permeated social life in seventeenth-century England—bowing before and doffing the hat to superiors or addressing them with the honorific “you” rather than the familiar “thou.” They felt called upon to testify to their beliefs wherever, and whenever, the Inner Light prompted, answering back

to ministers in the pulpit, inveighing against what they considered social injustices, and sermonizing without a license in public places. Often, their outspokenness enraged secular and ecclesiastical authorities. Dorothy Waugh (ca. 1636—?) worked as a maidservant in Preston Patrick, in northwest England, a hotbed of Quaker activity. She probably became one of Fox’s followers in the early 1650s, when she was still a teenager. Like Fox and a number of other missionary spirits, sometimes called “the Valiant Sixty,” she traveled through England on foot, spreading the Quaker message to all who would listen. In 1656, aged about twenty, she was one of the Friends who arrived in Boston, Massachusetts, aboard the Speedwell: the party was imprisoned for ten days by the staunch Puritan governor John Endicott, and then forced to return to England. Undaunted, Waugh embarked for the colonies again, with another small group of missionary Quakers, the following year, this time landing in New Amsterdam

(modern

New York). They

were no more welcome here than they had been in Boston. After a brief imprisonment, they were shipped in shackles to the colony of Rhode Island, where complete religious toleration was the rule. In the late 1650s, probably between voyages to the New World, Waugh married William Lotherington of Yorkshire, but nothing is known about her later life or the circumstances of her death. Other Quakers traveled even farther than Waugh on missionary expeditions; one woman made it as far as the Ottoman Empire and gave a sermon before the Grand Turk; when she failed to convert him, she walked back home to England.

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Waugh’s account of her treatment in Carlisle was published in The Lamb’s Defence Against Lies, a collection in which various Quakers testified to their maltreatment by secular and religious authorities. Although the Friends were pacifists who refused to retaliate physically or verbally against their persecutors, they were fully aware of the propaganda value of unmerited suffering—indeed, their enemies believed that they deliberately courted abuse as a publicity stunt. More probably, their bad reception only reinforced their conviction that they constituted a tiny remnant of holiness, bravely resisting the overwhelming powers of worldliness and evil. The Quakers’ published accounts of their victimization, typically reported in understated, factual, but gruesome detail, owed much to the sixteenth-century writer John Foxe’s influential tales of Protestant martyrdom under the Catholic queen “Bloody Mary” Tudor. In the years between 1650 and 1700, numerous male and female Friends published memoirs of their arduous lives, producing some of the first printed autobiographical writing in English by women and by people of humble status.

A Relation Concerning Dorothy Waugh’s Cruel Usage by the Mayor of Carlisle Upon a seventh day about the time called Michaelmas in the year of the world’s account 1655! I was moved of the Lord to go into the market of Carlisle, to speak against all deceit and ungodly practices, and the mayor's officer came and violently haled me off the cross? and put me in prison, not having anything to lay to my charge. And presently the mayor came up where I was, and asked me from whence I came; and I said, “Out of Egypt,*

where thou lodgest.” But after these words, he was so violent and full of passion he scarce asked me any more questions, but called to one of his followers to bring the bridle? as he called it to put upon me, and was to be on three hours. And that which they called so was like a steel cap and my hat being violently plucked off which was pinned to my head whereby they tore my clothes to put on their bridle as they called it, which was a stone weight of iron by the relation of their own generation,’ and three bars of iron to come over my face, and a piece of it was put in my mouth, which was so unreasonable big a thing for that place as cannot be well related, which was locked to my head. And so I stood their time with my hands bound behind me, with the stone weight of iron upon my head and the bit in my mouth to keep me from speaking. And the mayor said he would make me an example to all that should ever come in that name.° And the people to see me so violently abused were broken into tears, but he cried out on them and said, “For foolish pity, one may spoil a whole city.” And the man that kept the prison door demanded two pence of everyone that came to see me while

1. Quakers saw themselves as separated from “the world” and its conventional means of marking dates, particularly objecting to terms left over from medieval Catholicism, like “Michaelmas,” or the Mass of the Archangel Michael, celebrated on September 29. “Seventh day”: Sabbath, 2. A large stone cross marked the main intersec-

tion of most English towns; public speakers could mount the steps in order to be heard better.

3. In the Bible, the place where God's chosen people were enslaved and where most of the pop-

ulation worshipped false gods. 4. An

instrument

of torture

and

typically used to punish women

humiliation, who

“scolded”

their husbands or neighbors in public. 5. By their own report. A stone is fourteen pounds. 6. As professed Friends, or Quakers.

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their bridle remained upon me. Afterwards it was taken off and they kept me in prison for a little season, and after a while the mayor came again and caused it to be put on again, and sent me out of the city with it on, and gave me very vile and unsavory words, which were not fit to proceed out of any man’s mouth, and charged the officer to whip me out of the town, from constable to constable to send me till I came to my own home, whenas’ they had not anything to lay to my charge. 1656 7. Inasmuch as.

THOMAS TRAHERNE 1637-1674

homas Traherne’s most remarkable works—his stanzaic poems, free verse Thanksgivings, and the brilliant prose meditative sequence Centuries of Meditations—were lost for over two centuries. With them was lost a unique religious and aesthetic sensibility that conceives of heavenly felicity as a state that can be enjoyed in this world by recovering the perspective of lost childhood innocence. In 1673 Traherne published a polemic against Roman Catholics (Roman Forgeries), and some works of moral philosophy, meditation, and devotion received posthumous publication over the next several years. But his poems and the Centuries were discovered in manuscript only in 1896—97, and at first his poems were attributed to Henry Vaughan. Little is known of Traherne’s life. The son of a Herefordshire shoemaker, he received a degree from Brasenose College, Oxford; took orders and became rector of Credenhill in Herefordshire in 1661; became chaplain about 1660 to Sir Orlando

Bridgeman, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal; and spent his last years in and near London. The Centuries consists of four books of one hundred items each and a fifth unfinished. They contain prose meditations (which are often ecstatic prose poems) and some interpolated poems; the work was addressed to Traherne’s good friend Mrs. Susanna Hopton, to help her attain “felicity.” The poems render moments of spiritual experience: the speaker’s enjoyment of a wondrous heavenly felicity in childhood, his painful loss of it in maturity, and his successful efforts to recover that heavenly perspective.

From Centuries of Meditation

From The Third Century 3

The corn was orient and immortal wheat, which never should be reaped, nor

was ever sown. | thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold: the gates were at first

WONDER

|

1431

the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them first through one of the gates transported and ravished me; their sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad with ecstasy, they were such strange and wonderful things. The men! O what venerable and reverend creatures did the aged seem! Immortal cherubims! And young men glittering and sparkling angels, and maids strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty! Boys and girls tumbling in the street, and playing, were moving jewels. I knew not that they were born or should die; but all things abided eternally as they were in their proper places. Eternity was manifest in the light of the day, and something infinite behind everything appeared, which talked with my expectation and moved my desire. The city seemed to stand in Eden, or to be built in Heaven. The streets were mine, the temple was mine, the people were mine, their clothes and gold and silver were mine, as much as their sparkling eyes, fair skins, and ruddy faces. The skies were mine, and so were the sun and moon and stars, and all the world was mine; and I the only spectator and enjoyer of it. |knew no churlish proprieties,! nor bounds, nor divisions: but all proprieties and divisions were mine: all treasures and the possessors of them. So that with much ado I was corrupted, and made to learn the dirty devices of this world, which now I unlearn, and become, as

it were, a little child again that I may enter into the Kingdom of God.

1908

Wonder

s

10

How like an angel came I down! How bright are all things here! When first among his works I did appear, O how their glory me did crown! The world resembled his eternity, In which my soul did walk, And everything that I did see Did with me talk. The skies in their magnificence, The lively, lovely air; O how divine, how soft, how sweet, how fair!

15

The stars did entertain my sense,! And all the works of God so bright and pure, So rich and great did seem, As if they ever must endure, In my esteem.

iS)So

A native health and innocence Within my bones did grow, And while my God did all his glories show, I felt a vigor in my sense

1. Private property rights.

1. Sight.

1432

|

THOMAS

TRAHERNE

That was all Spirit. | within did flow With seas of life like wine;

I nothing in the world did know But ’twas divine. Harsh ragged objects were concealed, Oppression’s tears and cries,

30

35

40

Sins, griefs, complaints, dissensions, weeping eyes, Were hid; and only things revealed Which heavenly spirits and the angels prize. The state of innocence And bliss, not trades and poverties, Did fill my sense. The streets were paved with golden stones, The boys and girls were mine, O how did all their lovely faces shine! The sons of men were holy ones. Joy, beauty, welfare did appear to me And everything which here I found While like an angel I did see, Adorned the ground. Rich diamond and pearl and gold In every place was seen; Rare splendors, yellow, blue, red, white, and green, Mine eyes did everywhere behold. Great wonders clothed with glory did appear, Amazement was my bliss. That and my wealth was everywhere: No joy to this!

compared to this

Cursed and devised proprieties,* 50

55)

With envy, avarice, And fraud, those fiends that spoil even paradise, Fled from the splendor of mine eyes. And so did hedges, ditches, limits, bounds: I dreamed not aught of those, But wandered over all men’s grounds, And found repose. Proprieties themselves were mine,

And hedges ornaments; Walls, boxes, coffers, and their rich contents 60

Did not divide myjoys, but shine. Clothes, ribbons, jewels, laces, I esteemed

My joys by others worn; For me they all to wear them seemed When I was born. 1903 2.>

Private property rights.

1433

On Leaping over the Moon I saw new worlds beneath the water lie,

I

10

New people, and another sky And sun, which seen by day Might things more clear display. Just such another! Of late my brother? Did in his travel see, and saw by night, A much more strange and wondrous sight; Nor could the world exhibit such another So great a sight, but in a brother. Adventure strange! no such in story we

New or old, true or feignéd see.

15

On earth he seemed to move, Yet heaven went above: 3 Up in the skies

His body flies, In open, visible, yet magic sort: As he along the way did sport, Like Icarus? over the flood he soars

20

Without the help of wings or oars. As he went tripping o’er the king's highway, A little pearly river lay O’er which, without a wing Or oar, he dared to swim,

nN v7)

Swim through the air On body fair; He would not use nor trust Icarian wings’ Lest they should prove deceitful things; For had he fallen, it had been wondrous high,

30

Not from, but from above, the sky. He might have dropped thr ough that thin element Into a fathomless descent

Unto the nether sky That did beneath him lie

35

And there might tell What wonders dwell On earth above. Yet bold he briskly runs, And soon the danger overcomes,

40

Who, as he leapt, with joy related soon How happy he o’erleaped the moon.

. Another world.

. Traherne’s brother Philip. 3 . Le., yet went above the heavens.

4. Icarus soared on waxen wings. 5. Icarus’s wings melted in the sun, and he fell into the sea.

1434

MARGARET

|

CAVENDISH

What wondrous things upon the earth are done Beneath and yet above the sun! Deeds all appear again In higher spheres; remain In clouds as yet: But there they get Another light, and in another way Themselves to us above display. The skies themselves this earthly globe surround; We're even here within them found. On heavenly ground within the skies we walk, And in this middle center talk: Did we but wisely move On earth in heaven above, 55

60

65

70

We then should be Exalted high Above the sky: from whence whoever falls, Through a long dismal precipice,° Sinks to the deep abyss where Satan crawls, Where horrid death and déspair lies.

headlong fall

As much as others thought themselves to lie Beneath the moon, so much more high Himself he thought to fly Above the starry sky, As that he spied Below the tide. Thus did he yield me in the shady night A wondrous and instructive light, Which taught me that under our feet there is, As o'er our heads, a place of bliss. 1910

MARGARET

CAVENDISH

162351673

argaret (Lucas) Cavendish, duchess of Newcastle, wrote and published numerous works during the Interregnum and Restoration era, in a great variety of

genres: poetry (Poems and Fancies, 1653), essays (Philosophical Fancies, 1653; The World's Olio, 1655), short fiction (Nature's Pictures, 1656), autobiography (A True

Relation of My Birth, Breeding, and Life, 1656), Utopian romance (The Blazing World, 1666), scientific essays chiefly critical of the new science, letters, a biography of her husband (The Life of... William Cavendish, 1667), and some eighteen plays, of

THE

POETESS'S

HASTY

RESOLUTION

|

1435

which one, The Forced Marriage, was produced in 1670. Most were published in lavish editions at the Newcastles’ own expense. At the time they elicited more derision than praise: for a woman, especially an aristocratic woman, to publish works dealing so intimately with her desires, opinions, personal circumstances, and aspirations to fame and authorship seemed to many disgraceful. Samuel Pepys concluded , after reading her life of her husband the duke, that she was “a mad, conceited , ridiculous

woman, and he an ass to suffer [her] to write what she writes to him and of him.” Her fantastic dress and sometimes idiosyncratic behavior abetted that character ization: she took pride in “singularity” and even paid a visit to the all-male Royal Soci-

ety. But the philosopher Thomas Hobbes thought well of her, and her rediscoverers in recent decades have praised her works and her self-construction as a female author. Cavendish’s autobiography analyzes her responses to the circumstances of her life. Born into a wealthy royalist family that encouraged her disposition to read and

write, she became maid of honor to Queen Henrietta Maria, whom she followed into exile in Paris. There she married, in 1645, the widowed William Cavendish, thirty years her senior, who was one of Charles I’s generals and later Duke of Newcastle. Exiled for fifteen years on the Continent, where (his estates having been sequestered) they ran up exorbitant debts, they were restored to status and fortune after the Restoration. The duke, who was himself a poet, playwright, and philosopher, supported and promoted Margaret's literary endeavors, for which she was profoundly grateful. In polemical prefaces to her several works, she develops a fragmentary poetics, trenchantly defends her right to publish and to participate in contemporary intellectual exchange, defends women’s rational powers, and decries their educational disadvantages and exclusion from the public domain.

FROm PoEMS AND FANCIES

The Poetess’s Hasty Resolution

wn

10

is

Reading my verses, I liked them so well, Self-love did make my judgment to rebel. Thinking them so good, I thought more to write; Considering not how others would them like. I writ so fast, I thought, if Ilived long, A pyramid of fame! to build thereon. Reason observing which way I was bent, Did stay my hand, and asked me what I meant; Will you, said she, thus waste your time in vain, On that which in the world small praise shall gain? For shame, leave off, said she, the printer spare, He'll lose by your ill poetry, I fear. Besides the world hath already such a weight Of useless books, as it is overfraught.? Then pity take, do the world a good turn, And all you write cast in the fire, and burn. Angry I was, and Reason struck away, When I did hear, what she to me did say.

1. A poetic monument. ay 2. Like a ship with too heavy a cargo, in danger of sinking.

1436

|

MARGARET

CAVENDISH

Then all in haste I to the press it sent, Fearing persuasion might my book prevent. But now ’tis done, with grief repent do I, Hang down my head with shame, blush, sigh, and cry. Take pity, and my drooping spirits raise, Wipe off my tears with handkerchiefs of praise. 1653

The Hunting of the Hare Betwixt two ridges of plowed land lay Wat,' Pressing his body close to earth lay squat. His nose upon his two forefeet close lies,

Glazing obliquely with his great gray eyes. His head he always sets against the wind, If turn his tail, his hairs blow up behind: Which he too cold will grow, but he is wise,

And keeps his coat still? down, so warm he lies.

constantly

Then resting all the day, till, sun doth set,

Then riseth up, his relief for to get. Walking about until the sun doth rise,

Then back returns, down in his form? he lies.

nest

At last, poor Wat was found, as he there lay,

By huntsmen, with their dogs which came that way. Seeing, gets up, and fast begins to run, Hoping some ways the cruel dogs to shun. But they by nature have so quick a scent, That by their nose they trace what way he went. And with their deep, wide mouths set forth a cry, Which answered was by echoes in the sky. Then Wat was struck with terror, and with fear,

Thinks every shadow still the dogs they were. And running out some distance from the noise, 25

30

35

To hide himself, his thoughts he new employs. Under a clod of earth in sand pit wide, Poor Wat sat close, hoping himself to hide. There long he had not sat, but straight° his ears immediately The winding? horns and crying dogs he hears: blowing Staring with fear, up leaps, then doth he run, And with such speed, the ground scarce treads upon. Into a great thick wood he straightway gets. Where underneath a broken bough he sits. At every leaf that with the wind did shake, Did bring such terror, made his heart to ache. That place he left, to champaign® plains he went, open Winding about, for to deceive their scent. And while they snuffling were, to find his track,

1. Conventional name for a hare.

THE

HUNTING

OF

THE

HARE

|

1437

Poor Wat, being weary, his swift pace did slack. On his two hinder legs for ease did sit, 40

His forefeet rubbed his face from dust, and sweat.

Licking his feet, he wiped his ears so clean, That none could tell that Wat had hunted been. But casting round about his fair great eyes, The hounds in full career he near him spies: To Wat it was so terrible a sight, Fear gave him wings, and made his body light. Though weary was before, by running long, Yet now his breath he never felt more strong. Like those that dying are, think health returns, When

‘tis but a faint blast, which life out burns.

For spirits seek to guard the heart about, Striving with death, but death doth quench them out. Thus they so fast came on, with such loud cries,

wi wi)

60

That he no hopes hath left, nor help espies. With that the winds did pity poor Wat’s case, And with their breath the scent blew from the place. Then every nose is busily employed, And every nostril is set open wide, And every head doth seek a several? way, To find what grass, or track, the scent on lay. Thus quick industry® that is not slack, Is like to witchery,° brings lost things back. For though the wind had tied the scent up close, A busy dog thrust in his snuffling nose

different clever work witchcraft

And drew it out, with it did foremost run, Then horns blew loud, for th’rest to follow on. The great slow hounds, their throats did set a bass,

70

The fleet swift hounds, as tenors next in place, The little beagles they a treble sing, And through the air their voices round did ring. Which made a consort, as they ran along; If they but words could speak, might sing a song. The horns kept time, the hunters shout for joy, And valiant seem, poor Wat for to destroy: Spurring their horses to a full career,

Swim rivers deep, leap ditches without fear; Endanger life and limbs so fast will ride,

Only to see how patiently Wat died. At last,* the dogs so near his heels did get, 80

That they their sharp teeth in his breech did set; Then tumbling down, did fall with weeping eyes, Gives up his ghost, and thus poor Wat he dies. Men whooping loud, such acclamations make,

As if the Devil they did prisoner take. When they do but a shiftless° creature kill; To hunt, there needs no valiant soldier’s skill. But man doth think that exercise and toil, 2. From the 1664 edition; 1653 has “For why.”

helpless

1438

|

oo

MARGARET

CAVENDISH

To keep their health, is best, which makes most spoil. Thinking that food and nourishment so good, And appetite, that feeds on flesh and blood. When they do lions, wolves, bears, tigers see,

To kill poor sheep, straight say, they cruel be, But for themselves all creatures think too few For luxury, wish God would make them new.

9s

As if that God made creatures for man’s meat, To give them life and sense, for man to eat; Or else for sport, or recreation’s sake, Destroy those lives that God saw good to make: Making their stomachs, graves, which full they fill 100 +=With murdered bodies that in sport they kill. Yet man doth think himself so gentle, mild,

When he of creatures is most cruel wild. And is so proud, thinks only he shall live,

i065

That God a godlike nature did him give. And that all creatures for his sake alone Was made for him, to tyrannize upon.

1653, 1664

From A True Relation of My Birth, Breeding, and Life! As for my breeding, it was according to my birth and the nature of my sex, for my birth was not lost in my breeding; for as my sisters had been bred, so was | in plenty, or rather with superfluity. ...Tis true my mother might have increased her daughters’ portions by a thrifty sparing, yet she chose to bestow it on our breeding, honest pleasures, and harmless delight, out of an opinion that if she bred us with needy necessity it might chance to create in us sharking’ qualities, mean thoughts, and base actions, which she knew my father as well as herself did abhor. Likewise we were bred tenderly, for my mother naturally did strive to please and delight her children, not to cross or torment them, terrifying them with threats or lashing them with slavish whips. But instead of threats, reason was used to persuade us, and instead of lashes, the deformities of vices was discovered,* and the graces and virtues were presented unto us. x

*

After the Queen went from Oxford, and so out of England, I was parted from them.* For when the Queen was in Oxford I had a great desire to be one of her maids of honor. .. . And though I might have learned more wit,

1. Cavendish’s autobiography is a concise account, factual and at times self-reflective, of her early life. It comprises the final section of Nature's Pictures (1656), a collection of her fiction written during the Newcastles’ exile in Antwerp during the Cromwell regime. “Breeding”: upbringing. 2. Greedy. 3. Shown.

4. Her mother and family; her father had died when she was two years old. In 1643 Charles I moved his family and court to Oxford, where Margaret became maid of honor to Queen Henrietta Maria; in 1644 the queen fled with some

supporters,

Margaret

among

native Paris, to urge support cause,

them, to her

for the royalist

A

TRUE

RELATION

OF

MY

BIRTH,

BREEDING,

AND

LIFE

|

1439

and advanced my understanding by living in a court, yet being dull, fearful,

and bashful, I neither heeded what was said or practiced, but just what

belonged to my loyal duty and my own honest reputation. And indeed I was so afraid to dishonor my friends and family by my indiscreet actions that I rather chose to be accounted a fool than to be thought rude or wanton. In truth my bashfulness and fears made me repent my going from home to see the world abroad. . . . So I continued almost two years, until such time as | was married from thence. For my Lord the Marquis of Newcastle did approve of those bashful

fears which many condemned,

and would choose such a wife as he might

bring to his own humors,> and not such an one as was wedded to self. conceit, or one that had been tempered to the humors of another, for which

he wooed me for his wife. And though I did dread marriage, and shunned men’s companies as much as I could, yet I could not nor had not the power to refuse him, by reason my affections were fixed on him, and he was the only person I ever was in love with. Neither was I ashamed to own it, but gloried therein, for it was not amorous love. I never was infected therewith—it is a disease, or a passion, or both, I know by relation, not by experience. Neither could title, wealth, power, or person entice me to love. But my love was honest and honorable, being placed upon merit; which affection joyed at the fame of his worth, pleased with delight in his wit, proud of the respects he used to me, and triumphing in the affections he professed for me. . . . And though my lord hath lost his estate, and banished out of his country for his loyalty to his king and country, yet neither despised poverty nor pinching necessity could make him break the bonds of friendship, or weaken his

loyal duty to his king or country.

oo

When I am writing any sad feigned stories or serious humors or melancholy passions, I am forced many times to express them with the tongue before | can write them with the pen, by reason those thoughts that are sad, serious, and melancholy are apt to contract and to draw back too much, which oppression doth as it were overpower or smother the conception in the brain. But when some of those thoughts are sent out in words, they give the rest more liberty to place themselves in a more methodical order, marching more regularly with my pen on the ground of white paper. But my letters seem rather as a ragged rout, than a well-armed body, for the brain being quicker in creating than the hand in writing, or the memory in retaining, many fancies are lost by reason they ofttimes outrun the pen. Where I, to keep speed in the race, write so fast as I stay not so long as to write my letters plain, insomuch as some have taken my handwriting for some strange character.° . . . My only trouble is lest my brain should grow barren, or that the root of my fancies should become insipid, withering into a dull stupidity, for want of maturing subjects to write on.

5. Disposition. William Cavendish (1593-1676), a general in the king’s army, fled to the Continent in 1644. Margaret was his second wife,

whom he married in 1645 in Paris. 6. Alphabet.

1440

|

MARGARET

CAVENDISH

Since I have writ in general thus far of my life, I think it fit, I should speak something of my humor, particular practice, and disposition. As for my humor, I was from my childhood given to contemplation, being more taken or delighted with thoughts than in conversation with a society, in so much as I would walk two or three hours, and never rest, in a musing, considering, contemplating manner, reasoning with myself of everything my senses did present. ... Likewise I had a natural stupidity towards the learning of any other language than my native tongue, for I could sooner and with more facility understand

the sense

than remember

the words, and for want of

such memory makes me so unlearned in foreign languages as | am: as for my

practice,’ I was never very active, by reason I was given so much to contemplation. . .. As for my study of books it was little, yet | chose rather to read, than to employ my time in any other work, or practice, and when I read what I understood not, I would ask my brother, the lord Lucas, he being learned, the sense of meaning thereof; but my serious study could not be much, by reason I took great delight in attiring, fine dressing, and fashions, especially such fashions as I did invent myself, not taking that pleasure in such fashions as was invented by others: also I did dislike any should follow my fashions, for I always took delight in a singularity, even in the accoutrements of habits, but whatsoever I was addicted to, either in fashion of clothes, contemplations of thoughts, actions of life, they were lawful, honorable, and

modest, of which I can avouch to the world with a great confidence, because it is a pure truth. Era

*

x

I am a great emulator; for though I wish none worse than they are, yet it is lawful for me to wish myself the best, and to do my honest endeavor thereunto; for I think it no crime to wish myself the exactest® of Nature’s works,

my thread of life the longest, my chain of destiny the strongest, my mind the peaceablest, my life the pleasantest, my death the easiest, and the greatest saint in heaven. Also to do my endeavor, so far as honor and honesty doth

allow of, to be the highest on fortune’s wheel, and to hold the wheel from turning ifIcan; and if it be commendable to wish another's good, it were a sin not to wish my own; for as envy is a vice, so emulation is a virtue, but emulation is in the way to ambition, or indeed it is a noble ambition. But I fear my ambition inclines to vainglory, for | am very ambitious; yet ’tis neither for beauty, wit, titles, wealth, or power, but as they are steps to raise me to fame’s tower, which is to live by remembrance on after-ages. ... But | hope my readers will not think me vain for writing my life, since there have been many that have done the like, as Caesar, Ovid,’ and many more, both men and women, and I know no reason I may not do it as well as they: but I verily believe some censuring readers will scornfully say, Why hath this lady writ her own life? since none cares to know whose daughter she was, or whose wife she is, or how she was bred, or what fortunes she had, or how she lived, or what humor or disposition she was of? I answer that it is true, that

7. Refers,

probably,

to

practicing

a

musical

instrument, music being an accomplishment cul-

tivated by highborn young ladies. 8. Most perfect.

9, Julius Caesar wrote an account of his military campaigns

(Commentaries);

the

Roman

poet

Ovid wrote poems ostensibly about his own life and loves.

THE

BLAZING

WORLD

|

1441

‘tis to no purpose to the readers, but it is to the authoress, because I write it for my own sake, not theirs; neither did I intend this piece for to delight, but to divulge; not to please the fancy but to tell the truth, lest after-ag es should mistake, in not knowing I was daughter to one Master Lucas! of St. Johns, near Colchester, in Essex, second wife to the Lord Marquis of Newcastl e; for my lord having had two wives, I might easily have been mistaken , especially if |should die and my lord marry again. 1656

The

Blazing World

Part romance, part utopia, and part science fiction, The

Blazing World is also an idealized version of Cavendish’s own fantasies in that it portrays the effortless rise of awoman to absolute power. It begins in the vein of romance: a young woman is abducted and miraculously saved as a tempest carries the abductors’ boat to the North Pole and on to another universe, the Blazing World, whose

emperor promptly marries her and turns over the entire government of the realm to her. It takes on a utopian character, as the new empress learns from the fantastically diverse inhabitants about their numerous scientific experiments and about the royalist politics and religious uniformity of the place. The empress then brings Margaret Cavendish to be her scribe and returns with Margaret (in the state of disembodied spirits and Platonic friends) to visit and learn about Margaret's world; she also puts down a rebellion at home and subjects other nations to her beneficent rule. Cavendish’s preface makes a bold claim for authorial self-sufficiency, equating her creation of and rule over her textual world with the conquering and ruling of empires by Caesar and Alexander. She emphasizes the satisfactions of authorship, but in doing so she also underscores the social and political restrictions on women that have confined her sphere of action to an imagined world.

The Description of a New World, Called The Blazing World! To the Reader **“ “This is the reason, why I added this piece of fancy to my philosophical observations, and joined them as two worlds at the ends of their poles; both

for my own sake, to divert my studious thoughts, which I employed in the contemplation thereof, and to delight the reader with variety, which is always pleasing. But lest my fancy should stray too much, I chose such a fiction as would be agreeable to the subject treated of in the former parts; it is a description of a new world, not such as Lucian’s or the French-man’s world in the moon;? but a world of my own creating, which I call the Blazing World: the first part whereof is romancical, the second philosophical,

and the third is merely fancy, or (as I may call it) fantastical, which if it add 1. Thomas Lucas (ca. 1573-1625), a gentleman of large fortune and estates. Margaret describes him as “not a peer of the realm, yet there were few peers who had much greater estates, or lived more noble therewith.” 1. The Blazing World was published in 1666 and 1668, together with Newcastle’s Observations upon Experimental Philosophy, a critique of the

new science emphasizing the limitations of experiment founded on human perception and such instruments as the microscope and the telescope.

2. Cyrano de Bergerac (1619-1655), author of Histoire comique des états et empires de la lune (1656). The Greek satirist

Lucian

of Samosata

(125-200? c.£.) wrote dialogues about an imagi-

nary voyage, translated in 1634.

1442

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MARGARET

CAVENDISH

any satisfaction to you, I shall account myself a happy creatoress; if not, I must be content to live a melancholy life in my own world; I cannot call it a poor world, if poverty be only want of gold, silver, and jewels; for there is more gold in it than all the chemists ever did, and (as I verily believe) will ever be able to make. As for the rocks of diamonds, I wish with all my soul they might be shared amongst my noble female friends, and upon that condition, I would willingly quit my part; and of the gold I should only desire so much as might suffice to repair my noble lord and husband’s losses: for | am not

covetous,

but

as

ambitious

as

ever

any

of my

sex

was,

is, or can

be;

which makes, that though I cannot be Henry the Fifth, or Charles the Second, yet I endeavor to be Margaret the First; and although I have neither power, time nor occasion to conquer the world as Alexander and Caesar did; yet rather than not to be mistress of one, since fortune and the fates would give me none, | have made a world of my own: for which nobody, I hope, will blame me, since it is in everyone’s power to do the like.

* * “No sooner was the lady brought before the emperor, but he conceived her to be some goddess, and offered to worship her; which she refused, tell-

ing him, (for by that time she had pretty well learned their language) that although she came out of another world, yet was she but a mortal; at which the emperor rejoicing, made her his wife, and gave her an absolute power to rule and govern all that world as she pleased. But her subjects, who could hardly be persuaded to believe her mortal, tendered her all the veneration

and worship due to a deity... . Their priests and governors were princes of the imperial blood, and made eunuchs for that purpose; and as for the ordinary sort of men in that part of the world where the emperor resided, they were of several complexions; not

white, black, tawny, olive or ash-colored; but some appeared of an azure, some of a deep purple, some of a grass-green, some of a scarlet, some of an orange color, etc. Which colors and complexions, whether they were made by the bare reflection of light, without the assistance of small particles, or by the help of well-ranged and ordered atoms; or by a continual agitation of little globules; or by some pressing and reacting motion, I am not able to determine. The rest of the inhabitants of that world, were men of several different sorts, shapes, figures, dispositions, and humors, as | have already made mention heretofore; some were bear-men, some worm-men, some fish-

or mear-men,* otherwise called sirens; some bird-men, some fly-men, some ant-men, some geese-men, some spider-men, some lice-men, some fox-men,

some ape-men, some jackdaw-men, some magpie-men, some parrot-men, some satyrs, some giants, and many more, which | cannot all remember; and

of these several sorts of men, each followed such a profession as was most

proper for the nature of their species, which the empress encouraged them in, especially those that had applied themselves to the study of several arts and sciences; for they were as ingenious and witty in the invention of profitable

3. Cavendish’s husband, William, was formally banished from England and his estates confiscated in 1649; they were all restored after the Restoration. During his banishment Margaret

estimated that he suffered financial losses of around £940,000. 4. Mermen, the male counterparts of mermaids.

THE

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and useful arts, as we are in our world, nay, more; and to that end she

erected schools, and founded several societies, The bear-me n were to be her

experimental philosophers, the bird-men her astronomers, the fly-, worm-, and fish-men her natural philosophers, the ape-men her chemists, the satyrs her Galenic physicians, the fox-men her politicians, the spider- and lice-men her mathematicians, the jackdaw-, magpie-, and parrot-men her orators and logicians, the giants her architects, etc. But before all things, she having got a sovereign power from the emperor over all the world, desired to be informe d both of the manner of their religion and government, and to that end she called the priests and statesmen, to give her an account of either. Of the statesmen she inquired, first, why they had so few laws? To which they answered, that many laws made many divisions, which most common ly did breed factions, and at last break out into open wars. Next, she asked, why they preferred the monarchical form of government before any other? They answered, that as it was natural for one body to have but one head, so it was also natural for a politic body to have but one governor; and that a commonwealth, which had many governors, was like a monster with many heads: besides, said they, a monarchy is a divine form of government, and agrees most with our religion; for as there is but one God, whom we all unanimously worship and adore with one faith, so we are resolved to have but one emperor, to whom we all submit with one obedience. Then the empress seeing that the several sorts of her subjects had each their churches apart, asked the priests whether they were of several religions? They answered Her Majesty, that there was no more but one religion in all that world, nor no diversity of opinions in that same religion; for though there were several sorts of men, yet had they all but one opinion concerning the worship and adoration of God. The empress asked them, whether they were Jews, Turks, or Christians? We do not know, said they, what religions those are; but we do all unanimously acknowledge, worship, and adore the only, omnipotent, and eternal God, with all reverence, submission, and duty.

Again, the empress inquired, whether they had several forms of worship? They answered, no: for our devotion and worship consists only in prayers, which we frame according to our several necessities, in petitions, humiliations, thanksgiving, etc. Truly, replied the empress, I thought you had been either Jews, or Turks, because I never perceived any women in your congregations; but what is the reason, you bar them from your religious assemblies? It is not fit, said they, that men and women should be promiscuously together in time of religious worship; for their company hinders devotion, and makes many, instead of praying to God, direct their devotion to their mistresses. But, asked the empress, have they no congregation of their own, to perform the duties of divine worship, as well as men? No, answered they: but they stay at home, and say their prayers by themselves in their closets.> Then the empress desired to know the reason why the priests and governors of their world were made eunuchs? They answered, to keep them from marriage: for women and children most commonly make disturbance both in church and state. But, said she, women and children have no employment in church or state. "Tis true, answered they; but although they are not admitted to public

5. Private chambers.

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employments, yet are they so prevalent® with their husbands and parents, that many times by their importunate persuasions, they cause as much, nay, more mischief secretly, than if they had the management of public affairs.

[THE EMPRESS BRINGS THE DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE TO THE BLAZING WORLD]

After some time, when the spirits had refreshed themselves in their own vehicles, they sent one of their nimblest spirits, to ask the empress, whether she would have a scribe.* * * Then the spirit asked her, whether she would

have the soul of a living or a dead man? Why, said the empress, can the soul quit a living body, and wander or travel abroad? Yes, answered he, for according to Plato’s doctrine, there is a conversation of souls, and the souls of lovers live in the bodies of their beloved. Then I will have, answered she, the soul of some ancient famous writer, either of Aristotle, Pythagoras, Plato,

Epicurus,’ or the like. The spirit said, that those famous men were very learned, subtle, and ingenious writers, but they were so wedded to their own opinions, that they would never have the patience to be scribes. Then, said she, I'll have the soul of one of the most famous modern writers, as either of Galileo, Gassendus, Descartes, Helmont, Hobbes, H. More,® etc. The spirit answered, that they were fine ingenious writers, but yet so self-conceited, that they would scorn to be scribes to a woman. But, said he, there’s a lady, the Duchess of Newcastle, which although she is not one of the most learned, eloquent, witty, and ingenious, yet is she a plain and rational writer, for the principle of her writings, is sense and reason, and she will without question, be ready to do you all the service she can. This lady then, said the empress, will I choose for my scribe, neither will the emperor have reason to be jealous, she being one of my own sex. In truth, said the spirit, husbands have reason to be jealous of platonic lovers, for they are very dangerous, as being not only very intimate and close, but subtle and insinuating. You say well, replied the empress; wherefore I pray send me the Duchess of Newcastle’s soul; which the spirit did; and after she came to wait on the empress, at her first arrival the empress embraced and saluted her with a spiritual kiss.

[THE DUCHESS WANTS A WORLD TO RULE|

Well, said the duchess, setting aside this dispute, my ambition is, that I would fain be as you are, that is, an empress of a world, and I shall never be

at quiet until I be one. I love you so well, replied the empress, that I wish

6. l.e., they prevail so much.

7. Classical philosophers and founders, respectively, of schools of philosophy: the Peripatetics, the Pythagoreans, the Academics, the Epicureans. 8. Galileo Galilei (1564-1642), Italian astronomer

and defender of the Copernican

system; Pierre

Gassendi (1592-1655), proponent of a mechanistic

theory of matter;

René

Descartes

(1596-1650),

French mathematician and philosopher who had a major influence on the new science; Jan Baptista van

Helmont

(1579-1644),

Flemish

chemist:

Thomas Hobbes, English mechanistic philosopher and political scientist, author of Leviathan; Henry More

(1614-1687),

Cambridge Platonists.

one

of the

antimaterialist

THE

BLAZING

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with all my soul, you had the fruition of your ambitious desire, and I shall not fail to give you my best advice how to accomplish it; the best informers are the immaterial spirits, and they’ll soon tell you, whether it be possible to obtain your wish. But, said the duchess, I have little acquain tance with them, for I never knew any before the time you sent for me. They know you, replied the empress; for they told me of you, and were the means and instrument of your coming hither: wherefore I’ll confer with them, and inquire whether there be not another world, whereof you may be empress as well as I am of this. No sooner had the empress said this, but some immaterial spirits came

to visit her, of whom

she inquired, whether there were but three

worlds in all, to wit, the Blazing World where she was in, the world which she came from, and the world where the duchess lived? The spirits answered, that there were more numerous worlds than the stars which appeared in these three mentioned worlds. Then the empress asked, whether it was not possible, that her dearest friend the Duchess of Newcastle, might be empress

of one of them.’ Although there be numerous, nay, infinite worlds, answere d

the spirits, yet none is without government. But is none of these worlds so weak, said she, that it may be surprised or conquered? The spirits answered, that Lucian’s world of lights, had been for some time in a snuff,! but of late years one Helmont had got it, who since he was emperor of it, had so strengthened the immortal parts thereof with mortal outworks, as it was for the present impregnable. Said the empress, if there be such an infinite number of

worlds, I am sure, not only my friend, the duchess, but any other might obtain

one. Yes, answered the spirits, if those worlds were uninhabited; but they are as populous as this, your majesty governs. Why, said the empress, it is not

impossible to conquer a world. No, answered the spirits, but, for the most

part, conquerors seldom enjoy their conquest, for they being more feared than loved, most commonly come to an untimely end. If you will but direct

me, said the duchess to the spirits, which world is easiest to be conquered, her Majesty will assist me with means, and I will trust to fate and fortune; for I had rather die in the adventure of noble achievements, than live in obscure

and sluggish security; since by the one, | may live in a glorious fame, and by the other I am buried in oblivion. The spirits answered, that the lives of fame

were like other lives; for some lasted long, and some died soon. Tis true, said

the duchess; but yet the shortest-lived fame lasts longer than the longest life of man. But, replied the spirits, if occasion does not serve you, you must content yourself to live without such achievements that may gain you a fame: but we wonder, proceeded the spirits, that you desire to be empress of a terrestrial world, whenas you can create yourself a celestial world if you please. What, said the empress, can any mortal be a creator? Yes, answered the spirits; for every human creature can create an immaterial world fully inhabited by immaterial creatures, and populous of immaterial subjects, such as we are, and all this within the compass of the head or skull; nay, not

only so, but he may create a world of what fashion and government he will, and give the creatures thereof such motions, figures, forms, colors, perceptions, etc. as he pleases, and make whirlpools, lights, pressures, and reactions, etc. 9. Speculation

about multiple inhabited worlds

was an occasional topic in texts on the new astronomy. Milton’s Raphael introduces the idea

to Adam (Paradise Lost 8.140-58).

1. On the point of extinction.

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as he thinks best; nay, he may make a world full of veins, muscles, and nerves,

and all these to move by one jolt or stroke: also he may alter that world as often as he pleases, or change it from a natural world, to an artificial; he may make a world of ideas, a world of atoms, a world of lights, or whatsoever his fancy leads him to. And since it is in your power to create such a world, what need you to venture life, reputation and tranquility, to conquer a gross material world? .. . You have converted me, said the duchess to the spirits, from

my ambitious desire; wherefore I'll take your advice, reject and despise all the worlds without me, and create a world of my own. *

+

The Epilogue to the Reader By this poetical description, you may perceive, that my ambition is not only to be empress, but authoress of a whole world; and that the worlds I have made, both the Blazing and the other Philosophical World, mentioned in the first part of this description, are framed and composed of the most pure, that is, the rational parts of matter, which are the parts of my mind; which creation was more easily and suddenly effected, than the conquests of the two famous monarchs of the world, Alexander and Caesar:* neither have I

made such disturbances, and caused so many dissolutions of particulars, otherwise named deaths, as they did; for I have destroyed but some few men in a little boat, which died through the extremity of cold, and that by the hand of justice, which was necessitated to punish their crime of stealing away a young and beauteous lady.? And in the formation of those worlds, I take more delight and glory, than ever Alexander or Caesar did in conquering this terrestrial world; and though I have made my Blazing World, a peaceable world, allowing it but one religion, one language, and one government; yet could I make another world, as full of factions, divisions, and wars, as this is

of peace and tranquility; and the rational figures of my mind might express as much courage to fight, as Hector and Achilles had; and be as wise as Nestor, as eloquent as Ulysses, and as beautiful as Helen.* But I esteeming peace before war, wit before policy,’ honesty before beauty; instead of the figures of Alexander, Caesar, Hector, Achilles, Nestor, Ulysses, Helen, etc. chose rather

the figure of honest Margaret Newcastle, which now I would not change for all this terrestrial world; and if any should like the world I have made, and be willing to be my subjects, they may imagine themselves such, and they are such, I mean, in their minds, fancies, or imaginations; but if they cannot endure to be subjects, they may create worlds of their own, and govern themselves as they please: but yet let them have a care, not to prove unjust usurpers, and to rob me of mine; for concerning the Philosophical World, | am empress of it myself; and 2. Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar were both famed as conquerors of much of the world known to them. 3. A reference to the romancelike incident with which The Blazing World begins, the abduction of a young woman by a party of adventurers whose boat is blown in a tempest to the North Pole, where they perish (except for the woman, who enters into the Blazing World).

4. Hector the Trojan and Achilles the Greek are

the principal heroes of Homer’s Iliad; Nestor, wise

adviser

to the Greeks;

Ulysses,

hero

of

Homer's Odyssey, Helen, the one whose beauty caused the Trojan War, as it prompted the Trojan Paris to steal her away from her Greek husband, Menelaus. 5. Intelligence before cunning.

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as for the Blazing World, it having an empress already, who rules it with great wisdom and conduct, which empressis my dear platon friend;ic I shall never prove so unjust, treacherous, and unworthy to her, as to disturb her government, much less to depose her from her imperial throne, for the sake of any other; but rather choose to create another world for another friend. 1666, 1668

JOHN MILTON 1608-1674

s a young man, John Milton proclaimed himself the future author of a great English epic. He promised a poem devoted to the glory of the nation, centering on the deeds of King Arthur or some other ancient hero. When Milton finally published his epic thirty years later, readers found instead a poem about the Fall of Satan and humankind, set in Heaven, Hell, and the Garden of Eden, in which tra-

ditional heroism is denigrated and England not once mentioned. What lay between the youthful promise and the eventual fulfillment was a career marked by private tragedy and public controversy. In his poems and prose tracts Milton often alludes to crises in his own life: his choice of a vocation, the early death of friends, painful disappointment in marriage, and the catastrophe of blindness. At the same time, no other major English poet has been so deeply involved in the great questions and political crises of his times. His works reflect upon and help develop some basic Western concepts that were taking modern form in his lifetime: companionate marriage, the new science,

freedom of the press, religious liberty and

toleration,

republicanism,

and more. It is scarcely possible to treat Milton’s career separately from the history of England-in his lifetime, not only because he was an active participant in affairs of church and state, but also because when he

signed himself, as he often did, “John Milton, Englishman,” he was presenting himself as England’s prophetic bard. He considered himself the spokesman for the nation as a whole even when he found himself in a minority of one. No English poet before Milton fashioned himself quite so selfconsciously as an author. The young Milton deliberately set out to follow the steps of the ideal poetic

Milton.

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career—beginning with pastoral (the mode of several of his early poems) and ending with epic. His models for this progression were Virgil and Spenser: he called the latter “a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas.” In his systematic approach to his vocation he stood at the opposite end of the spectrum from such Cavalier contemporaries as Richard Lovelace, who turned to verse with an air of studied carelessness.

Milton resembles Spenser especially in his constant use of myth and archetype and also in his readiness to juxtapose biblical and classical stories. He is everywhere concerned with the conventions of genre, yet he infused every genre he used with new energy, transforming it for later practitioners. The Western literary and intellectual heritage impinged on his writing as immediately and directly as the circumstances of his own life, but he continually reconceived the ideas, literary forms, and values of

this heritage to make them relevant to himself and to his age. Milton’s family was bourgeois, cultured, and staunchly Protestant. His father was a scrivener—a combination solicitor, investment adviser, and moneylender—as well

as an amateur composer with some reputation in musical circles. Milton had a younger brother, Christopher, who practiced law, and an elder sister, Anne. At age

seventeen he wrote a funeral elegy for the death of Anne’s infant daughter and later educated her two sons, Edward and John (Edward wrote his biography). Milton had private tutors at home and also attended one of the finest schools in the land, St. Paul’s. At school he began a close friendship with Charles Diodati, with whom he exchanged Latin poems and letters over several years, and for whose death in 1638 he wrote a moving Latin elegy. Milton’s excellent early education gave him special facility in languages (Latin, Greek, Hebrew and its dialects, Italian, and French; later he learned Spanish and Dutch). In 1625 Milton entered Christ’s College, Cambridge. He was briefly suspended during his freshman year over some dispute with his tutor, but he graduated in 1629 and was made Master of Arts three years later. As his surviving student orations indicate, he was profoundly disappointed in his university education, reviling the scholastic logic and Latin rhetorical exercises that still formed its core as “futile and barren controversies and wordy disputes” that “stupefy and benumb the mind.” He went to university with the serious intention of taking orders in the Church of England—the obvious vocation for a young man of his scholarly and religious bent— but became increasingly disenchanted with the lack of reformation in the church under Archbishop William Laud, and in the hindsight of 1642 he proclaimed himself “church-outed by the prelates.” No doubt his change of direction was also linked to the fastidious contempt he expressed for the ignorant and clownish clergymen-in-themaking who were his fellow students at Cambridge: “They thought themselves gallant men, and I thought them fools.” Those students retaliated by dubbing Milton “the Lady of Christ’s College.” Above all, Milton came to believe more and more strongly that he was destined to serve his language, his country, and his God as a poet. He began by writing occasional poetry in Latin, the usual language for collegiate poets and for poets who sought a European audience. Milton wrote some of the century’s best Latin poems, but as early as 1628 he announced to a university audience his determination to glorify England and the English language in poetry. In his first major English poem (at age twenty-one), the hymn “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity,” Milton already portrayed himself as a prophetic bard. This poem is very different from Richard Crashaw’s Nativity hymn, with its Spenserian echoes, its allusion to Roman Catholic and Laudian “idolatry” in the long passage on the expulsion of the pagan gods, and its stunning moves from the Creation to Doomsday, from the manger at Bethlehem to the cosmos, and from the shepherd’s chatter to the music of the spheres. Two or three years later, probably, Milton wrote the companion poems “LAllegro” and “Il Penseroso,” achieving a stylistic tour de force by creating from the same meter (octosyllabic couplets) entirely different sound qualities, rhythmic effects, and moods. These

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poems celebrate, respectively, Mirth and Melancholy, definin g them by their ances-

try, lifestyles, associates, landscapes, activities, music, and literature. In 1634, at the invitation of his musician friend Henry Lawes, he wrote the masque called Comus, in which the villain is portrayed as a refined, seductive, and dissolute Cavalier, Comus challenges the absolutist politics of previous court masques by locating true virtue and good pleasure in the households of the country aristocr acy rather than at court.

After university, as part of his preparation for a poetic career, Milton undertook a six-year program of self-directed reading in ancient and modern theology, philosophy, history, science, politics, and literature. He was profoundly grateful to his father for sparing him the grubby business of making money and for financin g these years of private study, followed by a fifteen-month “grand tour” of France, Italy, and Switzerland. In 1638 Milton contributed the pastoral elegy “Lycidas” to a Cambrid ge volume lamenting the untimely death of a college contemporary. This greatest of English funeral elegies explores Milton's deep anxieties about poetry as a vocation , confronts the terrors of mortality in language of astonishing resonance and power, and incorporates a furious apocalyptic diatribe on the corrupt Church of England clergy. Nonetheless, while he was in Italy he exchanged verses and learned complim ents with

various Catholic inteilectuals and men of letters, some of whom became his friends.

Milton could always maintain friendships and family relationships across ideologi cal divides. In 1645 his English and Latin poems were published together in a two-part

volume, Poems of Mr. John Milton.

Upon his return to England, Milton opened a school and was soon involved in Presbyterian efforts to depose the bishops and reform church liturgy, writing five “antiprelatical tracts” denouncing and satirizing bishops. These were the first in a series of political interventions Milton produced over the next twenty years, characterized by remarkable courage and independence of thought. He wrote successively on church government, divorce, education, freedom of the press, regicide, and republicanism. From the outbreak of the Civil War in 1642 until his death, Milton allied himself with the Puritan cause, but his religious opinions developed throughout his life, from relative orthodoxy in his youth to ever more heretical positions in his later years. And while his family belonged to the class that benefited most directly from Europe's first bourgeois revolution, his brother, Christopher, fought on the royalist side. The Milton brothers, like most of their contemporaries, did not see these wars as a confrontation of class interests, but as a conflict between radi-

cally differing theories of government and, above all, religion. Some of Milton's treatises were prompted by personal concerns. He interrupted his polemical tract, The Reason of Church Government Urged Against Prelaty (1642), to devote several pages to a discussion of his poetic vocation and the great works he hoped to produce in thé future. His tracts about divorce, which can hardly have seemed the most pressing of issues in the strife-torn years 1643—45, were motivated by his own disastrous marriage. Aged thirty-three, inexperienced with women, and idealistic about marriage as in essence a union of minds and spirits, he married a young woman of seventeen, Mary Powell, who returned to her royalist family just a few months after the wedding. In response, Milton wrote several tracts vigorously advocating divorce on the grounds of incompatibility and with the right to remarry—a position almost unheard of at the time and one that required a boldly antiliteral reading of the Gospels. The fact that these tracts could not be licensed and were roundly denounced in Parliament, from pulpits, and in print prompted him to write Areopagitica (1644), an impassioned defense of a free press and the free commerce in ideas against a Parliament determined to restore effective censorship. He saw these personal issues—reformed poetry, domestic liberty achieved through needful divorce, and a free press—as vital to the creation of a reformed English culture.

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In 1649, just after Charles I was executed, Milton published The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates (see pp. 1396-99). This treatise defends the revolution and the regicide and develops a “contract theory” of government based on the inalienable sovereignty of the people—a version of contract very different from that of Thomas Hobbes. Milton was appointed Latin Secretary to the Commonwealth government (1649-53) and to Oliver Cromwell’s Protectorate (1654-58), which meant that he

wrote the official letters—mostly in Latin—to foreign governments and heads of state. He also wrote polemical defenses of the new government: Eikonoklastes (1649), to counter the powerful emotional effect of Eikon Basilike, supposedly written by the king just before his death, and two Latin Defenses upholding the regicide and the new republic to European audiences. During these years Milton suffered a series of agonizing tragedies. Mary Powell returned to him in 1645 but died in childbirth in 1652, leaving four children; the

only son, John, died a few months later. That same year Milton became totally blind; he thought his boyhood habit of reading until midnight had weakened his eyesight and that writing his first Defense to answer the famous French scholar Claudius Salmasius had destroyed it. Milton married again in 1656, apparently happily, but his new wife, Katherine Woodcock,

was dead two years later, along with their infant

daughter. Katherine is probably the subject of his sonnet “Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint,” a moving dream vision poignant with the sense of loss—both of sight and of love. Milton had little time for poetry in these years, but his few sonnets revolutionized the genre. He used the small sonnet form, hitherto confined mainly to matters of love, for new and grand subjects: praises of Cromwell and other statesmen mixed with admonition and political advice; a prophetic denunciation calling down God’s vengeance for Protestants massacred in Piedmont; and an emotion-filled account of his continuing struggle to come to terms with his blindness as part of God’s providence. Cromwell’s death in 1658 led to mounting political chaos, and soon the restoration of the Stuart monarchy seemed inevitable. Milton held out against that tide. His several tracts of 1659-60 developed radical arguments for broad toleration, church disestablishment, and republican government. And just as he was among the first to attack the power of the bishops, so he was virtually the last defender of the “Good Old Cause” of the Revolution; the second edition of his Ready and Easy Way to Establish a Free Commonwealth appeared in late April 1660, scarcely two weeks before the monarchy was restored. For several months after that event, Milton was in hiding, his life in danger. Friends, especially the poet Andrew Marvell, managed to secure his pardon and later his release from a brief imprisonment. He lived out his last years in reduced circumstances, plagued by ever more serious attacks of gout but grateful for the domestic comforts provided by his third wife, Elizabeth Minshull, whom he married in 1663 and who survived him. In such conditions, dismayed by the defeat of his political and religious cause, totally blind and often ill, threatened by the horrific plague of 1665 and the great fire of 1666, and entirely dependent on amanuenses

and friends to transcribe his

dictation, he completed his great epic poem. Paradise Lost (1667/74) radically reconceives the epic genre and epic heroism, choosing as protagonists a domestic couple rather than martial heroes and degrading the military glory celebrated in epic tradition in favor of “the better fortitude / Of patience and heroic martyrdom.” It offers a sweeping imaginative vision of Hell, Chaos, and Heaven; prelapsarian life in Eden; the power of the devil’s political rhetoric; the psychology of Satan, Adam, and Eve; and the high drama of the Fall and its aftermath. In his final years, Milton published works on grammar and logic chiefly written during his days as a schoolmaster, a history of Britain (1670) from the earliest times to the Norman Conquest, and a treatise urging toleration for Puritan

dissenters (1673). He also continued work on his Christian Doctrine, a Latin treatise

ON

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that reveals how far he had moved from the orthodoxies of his day. The work denies

the Trinity (making the Son and the Holy Spirit much inferior to God the Father),

insists upon free will against Calvinist predestination, and privilege s the inspiration of the Spirit even above the Scriptures and the Ten Commandments. Such heterodox positions could not be made public in Milton’s lifetime, and Christian Doctrine was lost to view for over 150 years.

In 1671 Milton published two poems that reflected the harsh repressio n all Puritan dissenters faced after the Restoration. Paradise Regained, a brief epic in four books, treats Jesus’s Temptation in the Wilderness as an intellectual struggle through which the hero comes to understand both himself and his mission. He defeats Satan by renouncing the whole panoply of faulty versions of the good life and of God’s kingdom. Samson Agonistes, a classical tragedy, is the more harrowing for the resemblances between its tragic hero and its author. The deeply flawed, pain-wracked, blind, and defeated Samson struggles, in dialogues with his visitors, to gain self-know ledge, discovering at last a desperate way to triumph over his captors and offer his people a chance to regain their freedom. In these last poems Milton sought to educate his readers in moral and political wisdom and virtue. Only through such inner transformation, Milton now firmly believed, would men and women come to value—

and so perhaps reclaim—the intellectual, religious, and political freedom he so vigorously promoted in his prose and poetry.

FRom Poems

On the Morning of Christ's Nativity! ]

wn

This is the month, and this the happy morn Wherein the son of Heaven's eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit? should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. Z

10

That glorious form, that light unsufferable,° unable to be endured And that far-beaming blaze of majesty Wherewith he wont? at Heaven's high council-table was accustomed To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,*

1. This ode was written on Christmas 1629, a few weeks after Milton's twenty-first birthday. He placed it first in the 1645 edition of his poems, claiming in it his vocation as inspired poet. The

poem often looks back to Spenser: the first four stanzas are an adaptation of the Spenserian stanza; there are several Spenserian archaisms (y- prefixes) and some Spenser-like onamatopoeia (lines

156,

172). Comparison

with

Crashaw’s

Nativity poem (pp. 1297—99) will highlight some important differences between Roman Catholic and Puritan aesthetics in this period. 2. The sentence of death consequent on the Fall. “Holy sages”: for example, the prophet Isaiah (chaps. 9 and 40) and Job (chap. 19) were thought to have foretold Christ as Messiah. 3. The Trinity: Father, Son (incarnate in Christ), and Holy Ghost.

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He laid aside; and here with us to be,

Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. =)

Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, 20

Now while the heaven by the sun’s team untrod* Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host° keep watch in squadrons bright?

angels

4

See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards* haste with odors sweet: O run, prevent? them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blesséd feet; Have thou the honor first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the angel choir, From out His secret altar touched with hallowed fire.®

anticipate

The Hymn 1

30

35

It was the winter wild While the Heaven-born child All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies; Nature in awe to him Had doffed her gaudy trim’ With her great Master so to sympathize; It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. 2

40

Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front® with innocent snow, And on her naked shame,

brow

Pollute with sinful blame,

The saintly veil of maiden white to throw,®

4. In classical myth, the sun (Phoebus Apollo) drove across heaven in a chariot drawn by horses.

5. The Magi who followed the star of Bethlehem to find and adore the infant Christ. 6. Isaiah’s lips were touched by a burning coal

from the altar, purifying him and confirming him as a prophet (Isaiah 6.7). 7. Put off her garments of leaves and flowers. 8. Nature fell also with the Fall, so she is a harlot (line 36), not a pure maiden, despite her white garment of snow.

ON

THE

MORNING

OF

CHRIST'S

NATIVITY

|

1453

Confounded that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities. 3

45

50

But he her fears to cease Sent down the meek-eyed Peace; She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere,° His ready harbinger,° With turtle! wing the amorous clouds dividing, And waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.

forerunner

4

No war or battle’s sound Was heard the world around;2

55

The idle spear and shield were high up-hung; The hooked chariot? stood Unstained with hostile blood,

60

The trumpet spake not to the arméd throng, And kings sat still with awful? eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by.

filled with awe

5

But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began: 65

The winds, with wonder whist,° Smoothly the waters kissed,

hushed

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm* sit brooding on the charméd wave. 6

70

The stars with deep amaze Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence, And will not take their flight For all the morning light, Or Lucifer’ that often warned them thence;

75

But in their glimmering orbs did glow Until their Lord himself bespake,° and bid them go.

9, The Ptolemaic spheres, revolving around the earth. 1. Like a turtledove, which, like the myrtle (next line), is an emblem of Venus (Love), as the olive

crown is of peace. 2. Around the time of Christ’s birth, the “Peace of Augustus” held, during which no major wars

spoke out

disturbed the Roman Empire; that peace was sometimes attributed to Christ. 3. War chariots were built with scythelike hooks on the axles, to wound and kill.

4. Kingfishers (halcyons) were thought to calm the seas during the time they nested on its waves. 5. Not Satan but the morning star, Venus.

1454

80

|

JOHN

MILTON

And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame As? his inferior flame

as if

The new-enlightened world no more should need;

He saw a greater Sun® appear Than his bright throne or burning axletree® could bear.

chariot axle

8 ss

90

The shepherds on the lawn Or ere the point of° dawn Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they than? That the mighty Pan’ Was kindly® come to live with them below; Perhaps their loves or else their sheep Was all that did their silly° thoughts so busy keep.

just before then

simple, humble

9

95

When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet As never was by mortal finger struck, Divinely warbled voice Answering the stringéd noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took; The air, such pleasure loath to lose,

100 +=With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.°

cadence

10

105

Nature that heard such sound Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia’s seat,’ the airy region thrilling,° Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union.

piercing, delighting

a

At last surrounds their sight

10

A globe of circular light

6. The familiar Son/sun pun. 7. Pan, patron of shepherds,

is a merry, goat-

footed god, but he was often conceived

exalted terms and identified with because his name in Greek means “all.” 8. By nature; also, benevolently.

in more

Christ,

9. Cynthia is the moon. Nature rules below the moon (the region of the four elements and subject to decay). The

unchanging,

perfect region

above the moon is normally the only place one could hear either angels’ hymnody or the music of the spheres.

ON

1s

THE

MORNING

OF

CHRIST'S

NATIVITY

That with long beams the shamefaced night arrayed;° The helméd cherubim And sworded seraphim! Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Harping in loud and solemn choir With unexpressive® notes to Heaven's newborn heir.

|

1455

adorned with rays

inexpressible

12 Such music (as ’tis said)

120

Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges® hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the welt’ring waves their oozy channel keep.

the two poles

13

125

130

Ring out, ye crystal spheres, Once bless our human ears (If ye have power to touch our senses so), And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the bass of Heaven’s deep organ blow; And with your ninefold harmony? Make up full consort to th’ angelic symphony. 14

135

For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold;* And speckled vanity Will sicken soon and die,

140

And leprous sin will melt from earthly mold, And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 15

Yea, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men,

Th’ enameled arras° of the rainbow wearing,

1. Seraphim and cherubim are the highest ofthe traditional nine orders of angels; they are often portrayed in martial attire. 2. Job 38.4—7: “Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? .../ When the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?” 3. In Pythagorean theory, each of the nine moving spheres sounds a distinctive note (the

brightly colored fabric

tenth, the primum mobile, does not move). It was supposed

that, after the Fall, this harmo-

nious music of the spheres could not be heard on earth. Earth would be the “bass” of the cosmic organ, sounding under that planetary harmony. 4. The first age, of human innocence, classical mythology’s equivalent to the Garden of Eden.

1456

|

JOHN

MILTON

And Mercy set between,’ Throned in celestial sheen,

With radiant feet the tissued® clouds down steering; And Heaven, as at some festival,

Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. 16 150

But wisest Fate says no, This must not yet be so; The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy’ That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss,

155

So both himself and us to glorify; Yet first to those ychained® in sleep The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep, 17

With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang While the red fire and smoldering clouds outbrake; 160

The agéd earth, aghast With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the center shake, When at the world’s last session,

The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne.’ 18 165

And then at last our bliss

Full and perfect is, But now begins; for from this happy day Th’ old dragon under ground,! In straiter limits bound,

170

Not half so far casts his usurpéd sway, And wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swinges® the scaly horror of his folded tail.

lashes

The oracles are dumb;? No voice or hideous hum

175

Runs through the archéd roof in words deceiving.

5. This allegorical scene, suggesting a masque descent, alludes to Psalm 85.10, part of the liturgy for Christmas: “Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” Peace, in the poem, has already descended (lines 45-52). The lines also evoke the flight of Astraea,

the classical goddess ofjustice, at the end of the Golden Age, and her return with its restoration, celebrated by Virgil in his fourth eclogue, applied by him to the birth of Pollio but by Christians to Christ. 6. Cloth woven with silver and gold.

7. The Latin word, infans, means, literally, “non-

speaking.” 8. One of Spenser’s archaic y- prefixes. 9. Moses received the Ten Commandments amid thunder and lightning atop Mount Sinai (Exodus 19); the Last Judgment will take place amid similar uproar. “Session”: court proceeding. 1. The devil (Revelation 20.2).

2. An

ancient

tradition

held

that

pagan

ora-

cles ceased with the coming of Christ; another identified the pagan gods with the fallen angels.

ON

THE

MORNING

OF

CHRIST’S

NATIVITY

|

1457

Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine,

180

185

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.? No nightly trance or breathéd spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

The lonely mountains o’er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale Edged with the poplar pale, The parting genius‘ is with sighing sent;

With flower-in-woven tresses torn

The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.

In consecrated earth

190

And on the holy hearth, The lars and lemures* moan with midnight plaint; In urns and altars round

195

A drear and dying sound Affrights the flamens’ at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.

Peor and Baalim’ Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-battered god of Palestine,® 200

And moonéd Ashtaroth,?

Heaven’s queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers’ holy shine; The Libyc Hammon! shrinks? his horn; In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.?

205

draws in

And sullen Moloch,’ fled, Hath left in shadows dread

His burning idol all of blackest hue; 3. Apollo’s main shrine was at Delphi, on the slopes of Mount Parnassus. 4. A local deity guarding a particular place. 5. Spirits of the dead. “Lars”: household gods. 6. Roman priests. 7. Other

manifestations

of Baal,

a Canaanite

sun god. 8. Dagon, the Philistine god whose image at Ashdod was twice thrown down when the Ark of the Covenant was placed beside it (1 Samuel 5.2—4). 9. Ashtaroth, also known as Astarte, was a Phoe-

nician fertility goddess identified with the moon. 1. Hammon, also Ammon, an Egyptian and Libyan god, depicted as a ram. 2. Thammuz, lover of Ashtaroth, was killed by a boar and lamented by the Phoenician women; he

was taken into the Greek pantheon as Adonis. 3. Moloch was a Phoenician fire god, a brazen idol with a human body and a calf’s, head; the statue (“his burning idol,” line 207) was heated

flaming hot and children were thrown into its embrace, with cymbals drowning out their cries

(2 Kings 22.10).

1458

|

JOHN

MILTON

In vain with cymbals’ ring They call the grisly king 210

In dismal dance about the furnace blue;

The brutish gods of Nile as fast,* Isis and Orus and the dog Anubis haste. 24

Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green,

215

Trampling the unshowered?® grass with lowings loud, Nor can he be at rest

rainless

Within his sacred chest;

220

Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud. In vain with timbrelled anthems dark The sable-stoléd sorcerers bear his worshipped ark.?

25 He feels from Judah’s land The dreaded Infant’s hand,

225

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyne;° Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge, ending in snaky twine;

eyes

Our Babe, to show his godhead true,

Can in his swaddling bands control the damnéd crew.°

26 So when the sun in bed,

230

~Curtained with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient® wave,

235

eastern, bright

The flocking shadows pale Troop to th’ infernal jail; Each fettered ghost slips to his several® grave; And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.”

separate

page

But see! the Virgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending. 240

Heaven's youngest-teeméd?® star

latest born

Hath fixed her polished car,°

4. Egyptian gods had some features of animals:

gleaming chariot

6. Typhon was a hundred-headed

monster who

Isis (next line) was represented with cow’s horns,

was

Orus, or Horus, with a hawk’s head; Osiris (lines

devil. The infant Christ controlling him calls up (as a foreshadowing) the story of the infant Her-

213-15) sometimes had the shape of a bull. 5. Osiris’s image was carried from temple to temple in a wooden chest, and his priests accompanied it with tambourines (“timbrels”).

a serpent

below the waist, a figure for the

cules strangling two giant serpents in his cradle. 7. Fairy rings. “Night-steeds”: horses drawing Night’s chariot.

L'ALLEGRO

Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed? angels sit in order serviceable.

|

1459

bright-armored

1629

1645

On Shakespeare!

v7)

What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones The labor of an age in piléd stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing? pyramid? Dear son of memory,’ great heir of fame, What* need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?

Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thyself a livelong? monument.

10

is

For whilst to th’ shame of slow-endeavoring art

Thy easy numbers? flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued® book Those Delphic? lines with deep impression took, Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;5 And so sepilchered in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

1630

why enduring verses

invaluable

1632

LAllegro'! Hence loathed Melancholy,” Of Cerberus? and blackest midnight born, In Stygian? cave forlorn s

1. This

’Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth? cell,

tribute,

Milton's

first published

poem,

appeared in the Second Folio of Shakespeare's plays (1632). 2. A Spenserian archaism. 3. As “son of memory” Shakespeare is a brother of the Muses, who are the daughters of Mnemosyne (Memory). 4. Apollo, god of poetry, had his oracle at Del-

hi.

5.Shakespeare’s mesmerized readers are themselves his (“marble”) monument.

1. The companion poems “LAllegro” and “II Penseroso” are both written in tetrameter cou-

plets, except for the first ten lines, but Milton’s virtuosity produces entirely different tempos and sound qualities in the two poems. The Italian titles name, respectively, the cheerful, mirthful man and the melancholy, contemplative man.

desolate

The poems are carefully balanced and their different values celebrated, though “I] Penseroso’s” greater length and final coda may intimate that life’s superiority. Mirth, the presiding deity of “LAllegro,” is described in terms that evoke Botticelli’s presentation of the Grace Euphrosyne (youthful mirth) and her sisters in his Primavera. 2. The black melancholy recognized and here exorcized by Mirth’s man is a disease leading to madness. “I] Penseroso” celebrates “white” melancholy as the temperament of the scholarly, contemplative man, represented in Diirer’s famous engraving Melancholy. Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy (excerpt on pp. 1240—46) treats the entire range of possibilities. 3. The three-headed hellhound of classical mythology. 4. Near the river Styx, in the underworld.

1460

JOHN

MILTON

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night raven sings; There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian? desert ever dwell. But come thou goddess fair and free,

In heaven yclept Euphrosyne,° And by men, heart-easing Mirth, Whom lovely Venus at a birth With two sister Graces more To ivy-crownéd Bacchus bore; Or whether (as some sager sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying, There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown® roses washed in dew, Filled her with thee a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair.

Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips° and Cranks,° and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks,° and wreathéd Smiles, 30

40

Such as hang on Hebe’s’ cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it® as ye go On the light fantastic toe, And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honor due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved? pleasures free;

newly opened lively

witty sayings / jokes beckonings

dance

irreproachable

To hear the lark begin his flight, And, singing, startle the dull night, From his watch tower in the skies,

Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come in spite of° sorrow,

in defiance of

And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweetbriar or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine. While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin,

5. Homer’s Cimmereans (Odyssey 11.13—19) live on the outer edge of the world, in perpetual darkness. 6. The three Graces—Euphrosyne (four syllables) figuring Youthful Mirth; Aglaia, Brilliance; and Thalia, Bloom—were commonly taken to be offspring of Venus (Love and Beauty) and Bac-

chus (god of wine). Milton proceeds, however, to devise another, more innocent parentage for Euphrosyne (ascribing it to “some sager,” lines 17-24): Zephyr, the West Wind, and Aurora, goddess of the Dawn. 7. Goddess of youth and cupbearer to the gods,

L’'ALLEGRO

55

And to the stack or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before: Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, From the side of some hoar® hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill. Sometime walking not unseen By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate,

60

Where the great sun begins his state,*

Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight;° While the plowman near at hand

|

1461

ancient

dressed

Whistles o'er the furrowed land,

And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight® mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows® gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied,°

immediately plowed land

multicolored

Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.

80

85

90

ey

Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure? of neighboring eyes. Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes From betwixt two agéd oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met Are at their savory dinner set Of herbs and other country messes, Which the neat-handed? Phyllis dresses; And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis' to bind the sheaves; Or if the earlier season lead To the tanned® haycock in the mead. Sometimes with secure® delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round And the jocund rebecks? sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the checkered shade; And young and old come forth to play

8. Stately procession, as by a monarch. 9. Literally, the bright polestar, or North Star, by which mariners steer; here, a splendid object, much gazed at. 1. Milton uses traditional names

from classical

dexterous

sun-dried

careless

pastoral—Corydon, Thyrsis, Phyllis, Thestylis— for his rustic English shepherds. 2. A small three-stringed fiddle. “Jocund”: merry, sprightly.

1462

JOHN

100

105

110

120

MILTON

On a sunshine holiday, Till the livelong daylight fail; Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets? eat; She was pinched and pulled, she said, And he, by friar’s lantern led, Tells how the drudging goblin* sweat To earn his cream bowl duly set, When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day laborers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend,’

And stretched out all the chimney’s® length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full® out of doors he flings Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of peace high triumphs® hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence,’ and judge the prize

frreplace’s satiated

Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend.

130

There let Hymen® oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp and feast and revelry, With masque and antique® pageantry; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson’s learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, fancy’s child, Warble his native woodnotes wild.’ And ever against eating cares;! Lap me in soft Lydian airs,? Married to immortal verse Such as the meeting soul may pierce

3. Sweetmeats, especially with cream. Queen Mab is the fairy queen, consort of Oberon. “She” and “he” in the next two lines are country folk telling of their experiences with fairies. 4. Robin Goodfellow, alias Puck, Pook, or Hob-

goblin. “Friar’s lantern”: will-o'-the-wisp.

5. Puck, here identified with the folktale goblin, Lob-lie-by-the-fire. Robin traditionally did all manner of drudging work for people, to be rewarded with a bowl of cream. 6. Pageants. “Weeds of peace”: courtly raiment. 7. The ladies’ eyes are stars and so have astrological influence over the men. 8. Roman god of marriage. An orange-yellow

ancient, also antic

(“saffron”) robe and a torch are his attributes. 9. It was conventional to contrast Jonson as a

“learned” poet and Shakespeare as a “natural” one, but L’Allegro’s views and choices of literature also suits with his nature. “Sock”: the comedian’s

low-heeled

slipper,

contrasted

with

the

tragedian’s buskin, a high-heeled boot. 1. “Eating cares” (Horace, Odes 2.11.18) is one

of many classical echoes in the poem. 2. Plato considered “Lydian airs” to be enervating, soft, and sensual; he preferred the solemn Doric mode. Some others thought Lydian airs relaxing and delightful.

IL

In notes with many a winding bout° Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie

140

145.

130

ca.

PENSEROSO

1463

circuit

The hidden soul of harmony;

That Orpheus’ self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free His half-regained Eurydice.? These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live.4

1631

1645

Il Penseroso!

5

10

is

Hence vain deluding joys,’ The brood of Folly without father bred, How little you bestead,° Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys° Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond® with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus” train. But hail thou Goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit° the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view

avail trifles

foolish

suit

O’erlaid with black, staid wisdom’s hue;4 Black, but such as in esteem,

Prince Memnon’s sister* might beseem, Or that starred Ethiope queen® that strove 3. Orpheus’s music so moved Pluto that he agreed to release Orpheus’s dead wife Eurydice (four syllables, accent on the second) from the underworld (Elysium), but he violated the condi-

tion set—that he not look back at her—and so lost her again. Milton often uses Orpheus as a figure for the poet. 4. The final lines echo Marlowe's “The Passion-

ate Shepherd to His Love” (p. 678): “If these delights thy mind may move, / Then live with me and be my love.” 1. I] Penseroso whose name is Italian for “the thoughtful one,” celebrates a melancholy that does not produce madness but the scholarly temperament, ruled by Saturn. For “LAllegro” see 2nd n. 2 on p. 1459.

2. In “II Penseroso,” Mirth is not the innocent joys of “LAllegro,” but “vain deluding joys.” 3. Morpheus is the god of sleep. “Pensioners”: followers. 4. The melancholy humor, caused by black bile, was thought to make the face dark or saturnine— from the ancient god Saturn, allegorized in Neoplatonic philosophy as “the collective angelic mind.” 5. Memnon, in Odyssey 11, was a handsome Ethiopian prince; his sister Himera’s beauty was mentioned by later commentators. Cf. Song of Solomon 1.5, “Iam black but comely.” 6. Cassiopeia was turned into a constellation (“starred”) for bragging that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs.

1464

|

JOHN

20

25

MILTON

To set her beauty’s praise above The sea nymphs, and their powers offended. Yet thou art higher far descended, Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore To solitary Saturn bore;’ His daughter she (in Saturn’s reign Such mixture was not held a stain).

Oft in glimmering bowers and glades He met her, and in secret shades

30

Of woody Ida’s inmost grove, While yet there was no fear of Jove. Come pensive nun, devout and pure,

Sober, steadfast, and demure,

35

40

All in a robe of darkest grain,° Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole® of cypress lawn Over thy decent® shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted?® state,° With even step and musing gait, And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: There held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble,’ till

color

comely, modestly covered

With a sad° leaden downward cast°®

4s

usual / dignity

grave, dignified / glance

Thou fix them on the earth as fast. And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,

And hears the Muses in a ring Aye® round about Jove’s altar sing.

continually

And add to these retired Leisure,

50

55

60

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; But first, and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeléd throne, The cherub Contemplation;! And the mute Silence hist° along, ‘Less Philomel? will deign a song, In her sweetest, saddest plight,° Smoothing the rugged brow of night, While Cynthia? checks her dragon yoke Gently o'er th’ accustomed oak; Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,

7. Vesta, daughter of Saturn, was goddess of the household and a virgin, as were her priestesses. Milton invented the story of her sexual congress with Saturn on Mount Ida, resulting in Melancholy’s birth. Saturn ruled the gods and the world during the Golden Age, which ended when he was murdered by his son Jove. 8. A delicate black cloth, 9. Still as a statue. 1. The special function of cherubim is contemplation of God;

Milton alludes also (line 53) to

SUMMON

mood

their identification with the wheels of the mystical chariot/throne of God described by Ezekiel (Ezekiel

10).

2. The nightingale (the bird into which Philomela was transformed after her rape by her brother-inlaw Tereus) traditionally sings a mournful song. “Less”: unless. 3. Goddess of the moon, also associated with Hecate, goddess of the underworld, who drives a pair

of sleepless dragons.

LE

PENSE

ROIS ©

|

1465

Most musical, most melancholy! Thee chantress oft the woods among I woo to hear thy evensong;* 65

And missing thee, I walk unseen

On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon,

70

75

Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way; And oft as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft on a plat® of rising ground,

plot, open freld

I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore,

Swinging slow with sullen® roar; Or if the air will not permit,

deep, mournful

Some still removed place will fit,

so

Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth,

ss

90

Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman’s® drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm; Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft outwatch the Bear,° With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere The spirit of Plato’ to unfold What words or what vast regions hold The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook;

And of those demons® that are found In fire, air, flood, or underground,

95

Whose power hath a true consent°® With planet, or with element. Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptered pall? come sweeping by,

agreement

Presenting Thebes, or Pelops’ line,

100 +=Or the tale of Troy divine,! Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskined? stage.

4. The evening liturgy traditionally sung by cloistered monks and nuns (“chantress” evokes such a singer); “LAllegro’s” cock, by contrast, calls hearers to the morning liturgy, “matins” (line 114). 5. Night watchman who rang a bell to mark the hours. 6. The Great Bear constellation never sets in northern skies. 7. Various esoteric books (actually written in the 3rd and 4th centuries) were attributed to an ancient Egyptian, Hermes Trismegistus (“thrice great”). Neoplatonists made him the father of all

knowledge; later he became a patron of magi-

cians and alchemists. To “unsphere” Plato is to bring him magically back to earth from whatever sphere he now inhabits—in practical terms, by reading his books. 8. Demons

(daemons),

halfway

between

gods

and men, preside over the four elements. 9. Royal robe, worn by tragic actors. 1. Tragedies about Thebes include Sophocles’ Oedipus cycle, those about the line of Pelops, Aeschylus’s Oresteia, and those about Troy, Euripedes’ Trojan Women. 2. The buskin (high boot) of tragedy, contrasted with the “sock” of comedy (“L’Allegro,” line 132).

1466

|

JOHN

MILTON

But, O sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus? from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus? sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto’s cheek,

110

And made Hell grant what love did seek. Or call up him? that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball and of Algarsife,

And who had Canacee to wife, That owned the virtuous? ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass,

having magical powers

On which the Tartar king did ride;

120

And if aught® else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of tourneys and of trophies hung, Of forests and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.°

anything

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career,

Till civil-suited Morn appear, Not tricked and frounced as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt,’ But kerchiefed in a comely cloud,

130

While rocking winds are piping loud, Or ushered with a shower still,° When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To archéd walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan® loves

135

Of pine or monumental oak,

140

Where the rude ax with heaved stroke Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. There in close covert? by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day’s garish eye, While the bee with honeyed thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring

145

With such consort® as they keep,

gentle

hidden place

musical harmony

Entice the dewy-feathered sleep; And let some strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in airy stream 3. Mythical poet-priest of the pre-Homeric age, supposedly a son or pupil of Orpheus. 4. For the story of Orpheus, see “L’Allegro,” line 145, and n. 3 (on line 150), 5. Chaucer, whose Squire's Tale is unfinished, 6. A capsule definition of allegory.

7. The now soberly dressed Aurora, goddess of the dawn, once fell in love with Cephalus (“the Attic boy”) and hunted with him. “Tricked and frounced”: adorned and with frizzled hair. 8. Roman god of woodlands.

EY GIDAS

150

|

1467

Of lively portraiture displayed Softly on my eyelids laid. And as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath,

iss

Sent by some spirit to mortals good, Or th’ unseen genius?® of the wood. But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister’s pale,° And love the high embowéd roof,

guardian deity enclosure

With antic pillars massy proof,’ And storied windows richly dight,!

160 =~Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow To the full-voiced choir below,

In service high and anthems clear, 16s

170

175.

As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies,

And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell® Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain. These pleasures, Melancholy, give,’ And I with thee will choose to live.

study

1645

ca. 1631

Milton wrote this pastoral elegy for a volume of Latin, Greek, and Lycidas by English poems, Justa Edouardo King Naufrago (1638), commemorating the death himself. than younger years three King, shipwreck of his college classmate Edward fears are King was not a close friend, but Milton’s deepest emotions, anxieties, and

of engaged here because, as poet and minister, King could serve Milton as a kind prohis for e, twenty-nin of age the at himself, preparing in alter ego. Still engaged human jected poetic career, Milton was forced to recognize the uncertainty of all form: agonizing most its in mortality of problem the endeavors. King’s death posed to life, meaning all deny to seems good the , unfulfilled the young, the of death the and noble ideto demonstrate the uselessness of exceptional talent, lofty ambition,

als of service to God. While the poem expresses Milton’s of his grand ambitions. Like Edmund mode as the first step in a great poetic In the tradition that Milton received

anxieties, it also serves as an announcement Spenser, Milton saw mastery of the pastoral career. In “Lycidas” that mastery is complete. from classical and Renaissance predecessors,

9. Massive and strong. “Antic”: covered with quaint or grotesque carvings, also antique. 1. Dressed.

“Storied

windows”:

windows depicting biblical stories.

stained-glass

2. Compare “LAllegro,” lines 151-52 (p. 1463), and the final lines of Marlowe's “Passionate Shepherd” (p. 678).

1468

|

JOHN

MILTON

including Theocritus, Virgil, Petrarch, and Spenser, the pastoral landscape was invested with profound significances that had little indeed to do with the hard life of agricultural labor. In lines 25-36, Milton evokes the conventional pastoral topic of carefree shepherds who engage in singing contests, watch contentedly over their grazing sheep, fall in love, and write poetry, offering an image of human life in harmony with nature and the seasonal processes of fruition and mellowing before the winter of death. That classical image of the shepherd as poet is mingled with the Christian understanding of the shepherd as pastor (Christ is the Good Shepherd), and sometimes as the prophet called to his mission from the fields, like David or Isaiah. Milton calls on all these associations, along with other motifs specific to

pastoral funeral elegy: the recollection of past friendship, a questioning of destiny for cutting short this life, a procession of mourners (often mythological figures), and a “flower passage” in which nature pays tribute to the dead shepherd. “Lycidas” uses but continually tests and challenges the assumptions and conventions of pastoral elegy, making for profound tensions and clashes of tone. The pastoral “oaten flute” is interrupted by divine pronouncements and bitter invective; nature seems rife with examples of meaningless waste and early death; the “blind Fury” often cuts off the poet’s “thin-spun life” before he can win fame; good pastors die young while corrupt “Blind mouths” remain; and Nature cannot even pay her tribute of flowers to Lycidas’s funeral bier since he welters in the deep, his bones hurled to the “bottom of the monstrous world.” In response to these fierce challenges come pronouncements by Apollo and St. Peter, and images of protection and resurrection in nature and myth, culminating in a new vision of pastoral: in heaven Lycidas enjoys a perfected pastoral existence, and in the coda the consoled shepherd arises and carries his song to “pastures new.” Milton’s questioning leads to a final reassertion of confidence in his calling as national poet. Moreover, in the headnote added in the 1645 volume of his Poems, he lays claim to prophetic authority, for the Church of England clergy he denounced as corrupt in 1638 had mostly been expelled from their livings by Puritan reformers in 1645.

Lycidas In this monody! the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637. And by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height.

5

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,’ I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,° And with forced fingers rude,° Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,°

Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,’ Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 1, A dirge sung by a single voice, though this one incorporates several other voices. Milton added this headnote in the edition of 1645; it identifies

Milton as a prophet in the passage denouncing the clergy in this 1638 poem (lines 112-31) and invites the reader to remember Milton’s 1641—42 polemics against the English bishops and church

unripe unskilled heartfelt, also dire

government (now dismantled). 2. “Laurels,” associated with Apollo and poetry; “myrtle,” associated with Venus and love; “ivy,”

associated with Bacchus and frenzy (also learning). All three are evergreens (“never sere”) linked to poetic inspiration. 3. King was twenty-five.

LYCIDAS

10

15

Who would not sing for Lycidas? He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.* He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter® to the parching wind, Without the meed® of some melodious tear.° Begin then, sisters of the sacred well’ That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse;

|

1469

be tossed about

reward / elegy

So may some gentle muse®

20

wu wi)

With lucky words favor my destined urn, And as he passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. For we were nursed upon the selfsame hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high lawns° appeared Under the opening eyelids of the morn,

upland pastures

We drove afield, and both together heard

What time the grayfly winds her sultry horn,’ feeding fat

Battening® our flocks with the fresh dews of night,

30

Oft till the star that rose at evening bright® Toward heaven’s descent had sloped his westering wheel. Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,

Tempered to th’ oaten flute,’ Rough satyrs danced, and fauns with cloven heel 35

From the glad sound would not be absent long,

And old Damoetas! loved to hear our song. But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,

40

With wild thyme and the gadding® vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes mourn. The willows and the hazel copses® green

wandering

thickets of trees

Shall now no more be seen,

45

Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker’ to the rose, Or taint-worm? to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers that their gay wardrobe wear

cankerworm

When first the white-thorn blows;? Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.

50

Where were ye, nymphs,’ when the remorseless deep Closed o’er the head of your loved Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep

4. King had written several poems of compliment in the patronage mode, chiefly on members of the royal family.

5. The nine (sister) Muses called (probably) from

the fountain Aganippe, near Mount Helicon. 6. Here, some kindly poet. 7. L.e., heard the grayfly when she buzzes. 8. Hesperus, the evening star.

9. Panpipes, played traditionally by shepherds in pastoral.

1. A type name from pastoral poetry, possibly referring to some particular tutor at Cambridge. “Satyrs”: goat-legged woodland creatures, Pan’s boisterous attendants. 2. Internal parasite fatal to newly weaned lambs. 3. Hawthorn blooms. 4, Nature deities.

1470

|

JOHN

MILTON

Where your old bards, the famous Druids,’ lie, vw vi

60

Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, ’ Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream:° Ay me! I fondly dream— Had ye been there—for what could that have done? What could the Muse’ herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting® son Whom universal Nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?” profits

Alas! What boots° it with incessant care

6s

70

To tend the homely slighted shepherd’s trade, And strictly meditate the thankless muse?! Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neaera’s hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind)

To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon® when we hope to find,

reward

And think to burst out into sudden blaze,

75

Comes the blind Fury® with th’ abhorréd shears, And slits the thin-spun life. “But not the praise,” Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears;* “Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil?

so

Set off to th’ world, nor in broad rumor lies,

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.”° 85

reward

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood,

Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood.°® But now my oat°® proceeds, 5. Priestly poet-kings of Celtic Britain, who worshipped the forces of nature. They are buried on the mountain (“steep”) Kerig-y-Druidion in Wales. 6. Mona is the island of Anglesey. Deva, the river

pastoral flute

1. L.e., study to write poetry (a Virgilian phrase). 2. “Amaryllis” and “Neaera” (Nee-eye-ra), conventional names for pretty shepherdesses wooed in song by pastoral shepherds.

Dee in Cheshire, was magic (“wizard”) because

3. Atropos, one of the three Fates, whose scis-

its shifting stream foretold prosperity or dearth for the land. All these places are in the West Country, near where King drowned. 7. Calliope, Muse ofepic poetry, was the mother of Orpheus. 8. Implies both song and magic; the root word

sors cuts the thread of human life after her sis-

survives in “incantation.”

9. Orpheus’s song was drowned out by the screams of a mob (“rout”) of Thracian women, the Bacchantes, who then were able to tear him to pieces and throw his gory head into the river Hebrus, which carried it—still singing—to the island of Lesbos, bringing that island the gift of poetry.

ters spin and measure

it. Milton makes her a

savage, and blind, Fury. 4. Phoebus Apollo, god of poetic inspiration. In Eclogue 6.3—4 he plucked Virgil’s ears, warning him against impatient ambition. 5. Flashy, glittering metal foil, set under a gem to enhance its brilliance. 6. Arethusa was a fountain in Sicily associated with Greek pastoral poetry (Theocritus), Mincius a river in Lombardy associated with Latin pastoral (Virgil); Milton invokes them as a return to the pastoral after the “higher mood” of Apollo’s speech.

LYCIDAS

|

1471

And listens to the herald of the sea’ That came in Neptune’s plea.

90

He asked the waves, and asked the felon® winds, “What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?”® And questioned every gust of rugged® wings That blows from off each beakéd promontory; They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades® their answer brings,

9s

savage

shepherd stormy

That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed; The air was calm, and on the level brine,

Sleek Panope? with all her sisters played. 100 ~—«sIt was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th’ eclipse,! and rigged with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus,” reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,°

105

formed of reeds

~Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.’ “Ah! who hath reft,” quoth he, “my dearest pledge?” Last came and last did go The pilot of the Galilean lake;* Two massy keys he bore of metals twain

10

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ©

forever

He shook his mitered locks, and stern bespake: in place of “How well could I have spared for® thee, young swain, enough (plural) Enow? of such as for their bellies’ sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold? Of other care they little reckoning make,

1s

Than how to scramble at the shearers’ feast,°

And shove away the worthy bidden guest.

Blind mouths!” that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least That to the faithful herdsman’s art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;* choose / meager And when they list,° their lean’ and flashy songs harsh, thin straw. wretched of pipes Grate on their scrannel®

120

7. Triton, who comes gathering evidence about the accident for Neptune’s court.

8. Aeolus, god of winds. 9. The chief Nereid, or sea nymph. 1. Eclipses were taken as evil omens. 2. God

of the

river

Cam,

representing

Cam-

bridge University. 3. Like the AI AI cry of grief supposedly found on the hyacinth, a “sanguine flower” sprung from the blood of the youth Hyacinthus, beloved of Apollo and accidentally killed by him. 4. St. Peter, originally a fisherman on the sea of

Galilee, was Christ’s chief apostle; his keys open and shut the gates of heaven. He wears a bishop's miter

(line

112):

Milton

in his “antiprelatical

tracts” allows for a special role for apostles but denies any distinction in office between bishops

and ministers in the later church.

5. Cf. John

10.1: “He that entereth not by the

door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber.” 6. Festive suppers for the sheepshearers (hence, the material rewards of their ministry). “Worthy bidden guest” (next line): cf. Matthew 22.8, the

parable of the marriage feast, “they which were bidden were not worthy.” 7. Collapsing blindness with greed, this audacious metaphor accuses churchmen of shirking oversight

(episcopus,

bishop,

means

“super-

vision”) and of glutting themselves, although pastors ought to feed their flocks. “Sheep-hook” (next line); the bishop’s staff is in the form of a

shepherd’s crook. 8. Provided for. “What recks it them?”: what do they care?

1472

|

JOHN

125

MILTON

130

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swol’n with wind, and the rank mist they draw,° Rot inwardly,’ and foul contagion spread, Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw' Daily devours apace, and nothing said. ~But that two-handed engine at the door?

135

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.” Return, Alpheus,’ the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.*

Ye valleys low where the mild whispers use,° Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star? sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enameled eyes,° i40-That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe® primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,’ The white pink, and the pansy freaked? with jet, 145

inhale

frequent

early flecked

The glowing violet, The musk rose, and the well-attired woodbine,

With cowslips wan® that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears:

pale

Bid amaranthus* all his beauty shed,

iso

And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse°® where Lycid lies. For so to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.’ Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas

iss.

laurel-decked hier

Wash far away, where’er thy bones are hurled,

Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, ! Where thou perhaps under the whelming? tide

engulfing

Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world; Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,

160

Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old, Where the great vision of the guarded mount

9. Sheep rot is used as an allegory of church corruption by both Petrarch and Dante. 1. I.e., Roman Catholicism, whole agents operated in secret (“privy”). Conversions in the court

of the Roman

Catholic queen Henrietta Maria

were notorious.

2. A celebrated crux, variously explained as the two houses

of Parliament,

St. Peter’s keys, the

two-edged sword of the Book of Revelation, a sword wielded by two hands, and by other guesses; what is clear is the denunciation of impending, apocalyptic vengeance. In Matthew 24.33 the Last Judgment is said to be “even at the doors.” 3. A river in Arcadia, fabled to pass unmixed through the sea before mixing its waters with the “fountain Arethuse” in Sicily, again reviving the pastoral mode after the fierce denunciation of Peter (see lines 85—87).

4. A catalogue of flowers was a common pastoral topic. “Bells”: bell-shaped flowers. 5. The Dog Star, Sirius, associated with the heats of late summer. 6. Flowers curiously patterned and adorned with many colors. 7. White jasmine. “Tufted crow-toe”: hyacinth or buttercup, growing in clusters. “Woodbine” (line 146): honeysuckle.

8. In Greek, “unfading,” a legendary flower of immortality, one that never fades. 9. False, because Lycidas’s body is not here to receive floral and poetic tributes. 1. Islands off the coast of Scotland, the northern terminus of the Irish Sea. 2. A fabulous giant invented by Milton as the origin of the Latin name for Land’s End in Cornwall, Bellerium. “Monstrous world” (line 158): filled with monsters, also, immense.

LYCIDAS

|

1473

Looks toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold;* Look homeward angel now, and melt with ruth:°

165

i7o0

pity

And, O ye dolphins,* waft the hapless youth. Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor; the sun So sinks the daystar® in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, adorns, trims And tricks® his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walked the waves,” Where, other groves and other streams along,°

17s

With nectar pure his oozy°® locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,’ In the blest kingdoms meek ofjoy and love.

moist

There entertain him all the saints above,

In solemn troops and sweet societies iso. +=That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears forever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the Genius® of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good iss To all that wander in that perilous flood. Thus sang the uncouth swain’ to th’ oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals gray; He touched the tender stops of various quills,' With eager thought warbling his Doric? lay: 1909

And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,

And now was dropped into the western bay;

At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:

Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

November

1638

1637

3. “The guarded mount” is St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, where the archangel was said to have appeared to fishermen in 495, and from which he is envisioned as looking over the Atlantic toward a region and fortress (“Bayona’s hold”) in northern Spain, thereby guarding Protestant England against the continuing Roman Catholic threat. 4. Dolphins brought the Greek poet Arion safely ashore, for love of his verse, and also performed other sea rescues. 5. Christ, who rescued Peter when he tried and failed to walk on the Sea of Galilee (Matthew 14.25-31).

6. See Revelation 22.1—2, on the “pure river of water of life,” and the “tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits.” 7. Inexpressible hymn of joy sung at “the marriage supper of the Lamb” (Revelation 19).

8. Local guardian spirit. 9. Another voice now seems to take over from the previously heard voice of the “uncouth swain” (unknown, unskilled shepherd).

1. The oaten stalks of panpipes. 2. Rustic, the dialect of Theocritus and other famous Greek pastoral poets. 3. The color of hope. “Twitched”: pulled up around his shoulders.

1474

|

JOHN

MILTON

From The Reason of Church Government Urged Against Prelaty! [PLANS AND PROJECTS]

** Concerning therefore this wayward subject against prelaty,” the touching whereof is so distasteful and disquietous* to a number of men, as by what hath been said I may deserve of charitable readers to be credited that neither envy nor gall hath entered me upon this controversy, but the enforcement of conscience only and a preventive fear lest the omitting of this duty should be against me when I would store up to myself the good provision of peaceful hours; so lest it should be still imputed to me, as I have found it hath been, that some self-pleasing humor of vainglory hath incited me to contest with men of high estimation, now while green years are upon my head;* from this needless surmisal I shall hope to dissuade the intelligent and equal auditor, if I can but say successfully that which in this exigent’ behooves me; although I would be heard only, if it might be, by the elegant and learned reader, to whom principally for a while I shall beg leave I may address myself. To him it will be no new thing though I tell him that if I hunted after praise by the ostentation of wit and learning, I should not write thus out of mine own season when I have neither yet completed to my mind the full circle of my private studies,° although I complain not of any insufficiency to the matter in hand; or, were | ready to my wishes, it were a folly to commit anything elaborately composed to the careless and interrupted listening of these tumultuous times. Next, if |were wise only to mine own ends, I would certainly take such a subject as of itself might catch applause, whereas this hath all the disadvantages on the contrary, and such a subject as the publishing whereof might be delayed at pleasure, and time enough to pencil it over with all the curious touches of art, even to the perfection of a faultless picture; whenas in this argument the not deferring is of great moment to the good speeding,’ that if solidity have leisure to do her office, art cannot have much. Lastly, I should not choose this manner of writing, wherein knowing myself inferior to myself, led by the genial power of nature® to another task, I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand. And though I shall be foolish in saying more to this purpose, yet, since it will be such a folly as wisest men going about to commit have only confessed and so

1. This was the fourth of five tracts Milton published attacking the bishops, liturgy, and church government of the Church of England, in support of Presbyterian reform, though these tracts also show signs of the more radical positions he will soon adopt. This 1642 treatise is the first one to carry his name, so the autobiographical passage is in part to introduce himself to the reader and explain why, though a layman and a young man, he feels himself called, and well prepared, to write on theology and ecclesiastical order. Beyond that rhetorical purpose, this is also the fullest account Milton ever set forth of

his poetics: his sense of the poet’s calling, of the nature and multiple uses of poetry, and of the several genres he already has employed or hopes to attempt. It also registers his inner conflict between duty (to serve God and his church with

his learning) and desire (to write poetry). 2. Government by prelates (bishops). ward”: untoward, unpromising.

“Way-

3. Distressing.

4. Milton’s

opponents,

Bishops

Joseph

Hall,

James Ussher, and Lancelot Andrewes, were famous, and he was still almost unknown, at age

thirty-four. 5. Urgent occasion. “Equal”: impartial. 6. After taking his B.A. and M.A. degrees from Cambridge, Milton spent nearly six more years in private study at home; he was still continuing

es program of reading. Prompt publication is essential in polemic, so fate rather than art must be the priority. “Office”: duty. 8. Intellectual gifts or natural disposition.

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committed, I may trust with more reason, because with more folly, to have courteous pardon. For although a poet, soaring in the high region of his fancies with his garland and singing robes about him, might without apology speak more of himself than I mean to do, yet for me sitting here below in the cool element of prose, a mortal thing among many readers of no empyreal conceit,’ to venture and divulge unusual things of myself, | shall petition to the gentler sort, it may not be envy' to me. I must say, therefore, that after I had from my first years by the ceaseless diligence and care of my father (whom God recompense) been exercised to the tongues and some sciences, as my age would suffer,” by sundry masters and teachers both at home and at the schools, it was found that whether aught was imposed me by them that had the overlooking, or betaken to of mine own choice in English or other tongue, prosing or versing (but chiefly this latter), the style, by certain vital signs it had, was likely to live. But much latelier in the private academies of Italy,? whither I was favored to resort—perceiving that some trifles which I had in memory, composed at under twenty or thereabout (for the manner is that everyone must give some proof of his wit? and reading there) met with acceptance above what was looked for, and other things which I had shifted in scarcity of books and conveniences to patch up amongst them, were received with written encomiums,> which the Italian is not forward to bestow on men of this side the Alps—I began thus far to assent both to them and divers of my friends here at home, and not less to an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life) joined with the strong propensity of nature, | might perhaps leave something so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die. These thoughts at once possessed me, and these other: that if I were certain to write as men buy leases, for three lives and downward,° there ought no regard be sooner had than to God’s glory by the honor and instruction of my country. For which cause, and not only for that I knew it would be hard to arrive at the second rank among the Latins, I applied myself to that resolution which Ariosto followed against the persuasions of Bembo,’ to fix all the industry and art I could unite to the adorning of my native tongue; not to make verbal curiosities the end—that were a toilsome vanity—but to be an interpreter and relater of the best and sagest things among mine own citizens throughout this island in the mother dialect. That what the greatest and choicest wits of Athens, Rome, or modern Italy, and those Hebrews of old did for their country, I, in my proportion, with this over and above of being a Christian,® might do for mine; not caring to be once named abroad, though perhaps I could attain to that, but content with these British islands as my world; whose fortune hath hitherto been that if the Athenians, as

9. Without sublime and elevated conceits. 1. Cause for odium or disrespect. 2. Admit. “Tongues”: foreign languages. In Ad Patrem Milton says that as a boy he learned Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and Hebrew. 3. When on the grand tour of the Continent (1638-39) Milton enjoyed attending academies in Rome and especially Florence, which were centers for literary, scientific, and social exchange. 4. Ingenuity, creative powers; Milton read some of his Latin poems to the academies.

5. Praises. Milton published five of these encomiums, four in Latin, one in Italian, as prefatory material to the Latin part of his 1645 Poems. 6. Leases were often drawn for a tenancy to run through the longest-lived of three named per-

sons. 7. Rejecting Cardinal Bembo’s advice, Ariosto said he would rather be first among the Italian

poets than second among those writing Latin. 8. The advantage would be in having “true” subjects to write about.

1476

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some say, made their small deeds great and renowned by their eloquent writers, England hath had her noble achievements made small by the unskillful handling of monks and mechanics. Time serves not now, and perhaps I might seem too profuse to give any certain account of what the mind at home in the spacious circuits of her musing hath liberty to propose to herself, though of highest hope and hardest attempting: whether that epic form whereof the two poems of Homer and those other two of Virgil and Tasso are a diffuse, and the book ofJob a brief, model;? or whether the rules of Aristotle herein are strictly to be kept, or nature to be followed,' which in them that know art and use judgment is no transgression but an enriching of art; and lastly, what king or knight before the conquest? might be chosen in whom to lay the pattern of a Christian hero. And as Tasso gave to a prince of Italy his choice whether he would command him to write of Godfrey’s expedition against the infidels, or Belisarius against the Goths, or Charlemagne against the Lombards;? if to the instinct of nature and the emboldening of art aught may be trusted, and that there be nothing adverse in our climate? or the fate of this age, it haply would be no rashness from an equal diligence and inclination to present the like offer in our own ancient stories; or whether those dramatic

constitutions’ wherein Sophocles and Euripides reign shall be found more doctrinal and exemplary to a nation. The Scripture also affords us a divine pastoral drama in the Song of Solomon, consisting of two persons and a double chorus, as Origen rightly judges. And the Apocalypse of St. John is the majestic image of a high and stately tragedy, shutting up and intermingling her solemn scenes and acts with a sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies; and this my opinion the grave authority of Paraeus, commenting that book, is sufficient to confirm.® Or if occasion shall lead to imitate those magnific odes and hymns wherein Pindarus and Callimachus’ are in most things worthy, some others in their frame judicious, in their matter most an end® faulty. But those frequent songs throughout the law and prophets beyond all these, not in their divine argument alone, but in the very critical art of composition, may be easily made appear over all the kinds of lyric poesy to be incomparable.? These abilities, wheresoever they be found, are the inspired gift of God rarely bestowed, but yet to some

9. The great models for the “diffuse” or long, epic were Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, Virgil's Aeneid, and Torquato Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata; there was also a long tradition of reading the Book of Job as a “brief” epic, a moral conflict between Job and Satan. Milton's brief epic, Paradise Regained (1671), makes some use of that model. For all the genres

he discusses,

Milton cites both classical

and biblical models. 1. One contemporary debate concerned whether the Aristotelian rule of beginning in medias res was to be followed, or Ariosto’s “natural” method

of beginning at the beginning of the story. 2. At first Milton considered as potential epic subjects King Arthur, who fought against invading Saxons,

and King Alfred, who warred

invading Danes; he excluded Norman Conquest.

those

3. Tasso

to

offered

this

choice

his

with

after the

patron,

Alfonso I] d’Este, Duke of Ferrara.

4, Milton often speculated that the cold climate

of England might not be conducive to poetry, as the warmer climate of Italy and Greece had been. 5. Plays. 6. Sophocles and Euripides are supreme examples of Greek tragedy; the Scripture models for drama are the Song of Solomon as a “divine pastoral drama” (Milton cites Origen, an Alexandrine Father of the 3rd century), and the Book of Revelation as a “high and stately tragedy” (he cites David Paraeus, a German theologian of the 16th and 17th centuries). 7. Pindar, a Sth century B.c.E. Greek poet, wrote numerous odes especially on winners of the Olympic games; Callimachus, a 3rd century B.c.E. Alexandrine Greek, wrote elegant elegiac verse on the origin of various myths and rituals. 8. Almost entirely. 9. He thinks especially of the Psalms, often compared to classical lyric.

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(though most abuse) in every nation; and are of power beside the office of a

pulpit to inbreed and cherish in a great people the seeds of virtue and public civility, to allay the perturbations of the mind and set the affections in right tune, to celebrate in glorious and lofty hymns the throne and equipage of God’s almightiness, and what he works and what he suffers to be wrought with high providence in his church, to sing the victorious agonies of martyrs and saints, the deeds and triumphs of just and pious nations doing valiantly through faith against the enemies of Christ, to deplore the general relapses of kingdoms and states from justice and God’s true worship. Lastly, whatsoever in religion is holy and sublime, in virtue amiable or grave, whatsoever hath passion or admiration in all the changes of that which is called fortune from without or the wily subtleties and refluxes of man’s thoughts from within, all these things with a solid and treatable smoothness to paint out and describe.' Teaching over the whole book of sanctity and virtue through all the instances of example, with such delight to those especially of soft and delicious temper,” who will not so much as look upon truth herself unless they see her elegantly dressed, that whereas the paths of honesty and good life appear now rugged and difficult, though they be indeed easy and pleasant, they would then appear to all men both easy and pleasant, though they were rugged and difficult indeed. And what a benefit this would be to our youth and gentry may be soon guessed by what we know of the corruption and bane which they suck in daily from the writings and interludes of libidinous and ignorant poetasters,*’ who, having scarce ever heard of that which is the main consistence of a true poem, the choice of such persons as they ought to introduce, and what is moral and decent to each one, do for the most part lap up* vicious principles in sweet pills to be swallowed

down,

and make

the taste of virtuous

documents

harsh and sour. But because the spirit of man cannot demean’ itself lively in this body without some recreating intermission of labor and serious things, it were happy for the commonwealth if our magistrates, as in those famous governments of old, would take into their care, not only the deciding of our contentious law cases and brawls, but the managing of our public sports and festival pastimes, that they might be, not such as were authorized a while since,° the provocations of drunkenness and lust, but such as may inure and harden our bodies by martial exercises to all warlike skill and performance, and may civilize, adorn, and make discreet our minds by the learned and affable meeting of frequent academies, and the procurement of wise and artful recitations sweetened with eloquent and graceful enticements to justice, temperance, and fortitude, instructing and the love and practice of all opportunities, that the call of wisdom and virtue at nation the bettering may be heard everywhere, as Solomon saith: “She crieth without, she uttereth her voice in the streets, in the top of high places, in the chief concourse, and

1. See the wide range of kinds and subjects and functions suggested for the serious national poet. 2, Temperament. Milton here paraphrases Horace’s formula echoed by Sidney and Jonson, that poetry both teaches and delights, and that it

encourages virtuous endeavor. 3. Some

of the pseudo-poets

of the Cavalier

court who wrote on lascivious topics. 4. Roll up. 5. Comport. 6. Charles I’s republication (1633) of James I's Book of Sports, encouraging sports, dancing, and rural festivals on Sundays—anathema to Puritans.

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in the openings of the gates.”? Whether this may not be, not only in pulpits, but after another persuasive method,* at set and solemn panegyries, in theaters, porches,’ or what other place or way may win most upon the people to receive at once both recreation and instruction, let them in authority consult. The thing which I had to say, and those intentions which have lived within me ever since I could conceive myself anything worth to my country, I return to crave excuse that urgent reason hath plucked from me by an abortive and foredated discovery.' And the accomplishment of them lies not but in a power above man’s to promise; but that none hath by more studious ways endeavored, and with more unwearied spirit that none shall, that | dare almost aver of myself as far as life and free leisure will extend; and that the land had once enfranchised herself from this impertinent? yoke of prelaty, under whose inquisitorious and tyrannical duncery no free and splendid wit can flourish. Neither do I think it shame to covenant with any knowing reader that for some few years yet I may go on trust with him toward the payment of what I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth or the vapors of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amorist or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite, nor to be obtained by the invocation of Dame Memory and her siren daughters,* but by devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases.* To this must be added industrious and select reading, steady observation, insight into all seemly and generous arts and affairs; till which in some measure be compassed, at mine own peril and cost I refuse not to sustain this expectation.” “ “ But were it the meanest under-service, if God by his secretary conscience enjoin it, it were sad for me if Ishould draw back; for me espe-

cially, now when all men offer their aid to help ease and lighten the difficult labors of the church, to whose service by the intentions of my parents and friends I was destined of a child, and in mine own resolutions: till coming to some maturity of years and perceiving what tyranny had invaded the church, that he who would take orders must subscribe slave and take an oath withal,’ which, unless he took with a conscience that would retch, he

must either straight perjure or split his faith; I thought it better to prefer a blameless silence before the sacred office of speaking, bought and begun with servitude and forswearing. Howsoever, thus church-outed by the prelates,

7. The phrases are from Proverbs 1.20—21 and 8.2—3. Milton would not ban recreation or festival pastimes but reform them: his models are the lofty encomiastic poems and recitations Plato would admit into his Republic, the literary and social exchanges of the Italian academies, and

full plate, or even Memory (and her daughters the Muses): tradition alone does not make a poet. 4. The coal from the altar that purifies the prophet’s lips (Isaiah 6.6—7): the passage makes poetry first and foremost the product of inspira-

martial

well-nigh universal knowledge and experience. 5. Milton was not willing to subscribe the oath affirming that the Book of Common Prayer and the present government of the church by bishops were according to the word of God; still less was he willing to subscribe the notorious “etcetera” oath required in 1640, that the minister would never seek to alter the government of the church “by archbishops, bishops, deacons, and archdea-

exercises

(to prepare

the citizenry

for

war, now imminent). 8. Le., poetry.

9. Porticos. “Panegyries”: solemn

public meet-

ings. 1. Le., I have been forced to write for my country’s sake and to reveal my poetic plans before I was ready to do either. 2. Unsuitable, absurd. 3. True poetry comes, not from youth, wine, a

tion, but Milton also insists on his need to attain

cons, ete.

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hence may appear the right I have to meddle in these matters, as before the necessity and constraint appeared. 1642

Areopagitica

This passionate,

trenchant

defense

of intellectual

liberty has

had a powerful influence on the evolving liberal conception of freedom of speech, press, and thought. Milton’s specific target is the Press Ordinance of June 14, 1643, Parliament's attempt to crack down on the flood of pamphlets (including Milton’s own controversial treatises on divorce) that poured forth both from legal and from

underground presses as the Civil War raged. Like Tudor and Stuart censorship laws, Parliament's ordinance demanded that works be registered with the stationers and licensed by the censors before publication, and that both author and publisher be identified, on pain of fines and imprisonment for both. Milton vigorously protests the prepublication licensing of books, arguing that such measures have only been used by, and are only fit for, degenerate cultures. In the regenerate English nation, now “rousing herself like a strong man after sleep,” men and women must be allowed to develop in virtue by participating in the clash and conflict of ideas. Truth will always overcome falsehood in reasoned debate. Thus, in opposition to the Presbyterians then in power, Milton defends widespread religious toleration, though with restrictions on Roman Catholicism, which, like most of his Protestant contemporaries, he viewed as a political threat and a tyranny binding individual conscience to the pope. The title associates the tract with the speech of the Greek orator Isocrates to the Areopagus, the Council of the Wise in Athens. Learned readers would have recognized the irony of this. While Isocrates instructed the council to reform Athens by careful supervision of the private lives of citizens, Milton argues that only liberty and removal of censorship can advance reformation. This association explains the oratorical tone of the tract, which was, in fact, subtitled “A Speech.” In this most literary

of his tracts, Milton’s style is elevated, eloquent, dense with poetic figures, and ranges in tone from satire and ridicule to urgent pleading and florid praise. His arguments and principles are often couched in striking images and phrases. One example is his passionate testimony to the potency and inestimable value of books: “As good almost kill a man as kill a good book . . .” Most memorable is his ringing credo that echoes down the centuries to protest every new tyranny: “Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.”

From Areopagitica I deny not, but that it is of greatest concernment in the church and commonwealth, to have a vigilant eye how books demean! themselves as well as

men; and thereafter to confine, imprison, and do sharpest justice on them

as malefactors:2 For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as vigorously 1. Behave. 2. Milton allows that books may be called to account after publication, if they are proved to

contain libels or other manifest crimes (he leaves this quite vague).

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productive, as those fabulous dragon’s teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.? And yet on the other hand unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book; who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God’s image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. ‘Tis true, no age can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare the worse. We should be wary therefore what persecution we raise against the living labors of public men, how we spill that seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books; since we see a kind of massacre, whereof the execution ends not in the slaying of an elemental life, but strikes at that ethereal and fifth essence,* the breath of reason itself,

slays an immortality rather than a life. But lest I should be condemned of introducing licence, while I oppose licensing, I refuse not the pains to be so much historical, as will serve to show what hath been done by ancient and famous commonwealths, against this disorder, till the very time that this project of licensing crept out of the Inquisition,> was catched up by our prelates, and hath caught some of our presbyters.® * * *“ “Good and evil we know in the field of this world grow up together almost inseparably; and the knowledge of good is so involved and interwoven with the knowledge of evil, and in so many cunning resemblances hardly to be discerned, that those confused seeds which were imposed on Psyche as an incessant labor to cull out and sort asunder were not more intermixed.’ It was from out the rind of one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and evil, as two twins cleaving together, leaped forth into the world. And perhaps this is that doom which Adam fell into of knowing good and evil, that is to say of knowing good by evil. As therefore the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to choose,

what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring® Christian. I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed,’ that never sallies out and sees her

adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into

the world, we bring impurity much rather; that which purifies us is trial, 3. After Cadmus killed a dragon on his way to founding Thebes, on a god’s advice he sowed the dragon’s teeth, which sprang up as an army, the belligerent forefathers of Sparta.

church with another. 7. Angry at her son Cupid’s love for Psyche, Venus set the girl many trials, among them to

4. Quintessence, a pure, mystical substance above the four elements (fire, air, water, earth).

ants took pity on her and did the work. 8. The printed text reads “wayfaring,” calling up the image of the Christian pilgrim; several presentation copies correct it (by hand) to “warfaring,” calling up the image of the Christian warrior. Both suit the passage. 9. Not forced by exertion to breathe hard. “Immortal garland” (next line): the prize for the winner of a race, as figure for the “crown of life” promised to those who endure temptation (James

5. The Roman Catholic institution for suppressing heresy, especially strong in Spain.

6. The Presbyterians, powerful in the Parliament, were striving to establish theirs as the national church and suppress others. Milton, who began by supporting them in The Reason of Church Government and his other antiprelatical tracts (1641—42), now rejects them, in large part because they seek to supplant one repressive

sort out a vast mound

1.12).

of mixed

seeds, but the

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and trial is by what is contrary. That virtue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice prom-

ises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental! whiteness; which was the reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser (whom I dare be known to think a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas), describing true temperance under the person of Guyon, brings him in with his Palmer through the Cave of Mammon and the Bower of Earthly Bliss,” that he might see and know, and yet abstain. Since therefore the knowledge and survey of vice is in this world so necessary to the constituting of human virtue, and the scanning of error to the confirmation of truth, how can we more safely, and with less danger, scout

into the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner of tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And this is the benefit which may be had of books promiscuously read. But of the harm that may result hence, three kinds are usually reckoned. First is feared the infection that may spread; but then all human learning and controversy in religious points must remove out of the world, yea, the Bible itself; for that ofttimes relates blasphemy not nicely,* it describes the carnal sense of wicked men not unelegantly, it brings in holiest men passionately murmuring against providence through all the arguments of Epicurus;? in other great disputes it answers dubiously and darkly to the common reader.” we

*

He

To sequester out of the world into Atlantic and Utopian politics,° which never can be drawn into use, will not mend our condition, but to ordain wisely as in this world of evil, in the midst whereof God hath placed us unavoidably. . . . Impunity and remissness, for certain, are the bane of a commonwealth, but

here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to bid restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work. If every action which is good or evil in man at ripe years were to be under pittance’ and prescription and compulsion, what were virtue but a name, what praise could be then due to well-doing, what gramercy’ to be sober, just, or continent? Many there be that complain of divine providence for suffering Adam to

transgress; foolish tongues! When God gave him reason, he gave him freedom to choose, for reason is but choosing; he had been else a mere artificial Adam, such an Adam as he is in the motions.? We ourselves esteem not of

that obedience, or love, or gift, which is of force: God therefore left him

ness

1. Exterior only. 2. John

Duns

Scotus

and

Thomas

Aquinas,

major Scholastic theologians. Guyon (following), the hero of Book 2 of the Faerie Queene, passes through the Cave of Mammon (symbolic of all worldly goods and honors) without his Palmer-guide, but that figure does accompany him through the Bower of Bliss. 3. Daintily. 4. Greek philosopher (342-270 B.c.E.) who taught that happiness is the greatest good, and that virtue should be practiced because it brings happiness; some of his followers equated happi-

with

sensual

enjoyment.

Milton

may

be

thinking of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes. 5. Milton goes on to argue that a fool can find material for folly in the best books, and a wise person

material for wisdom

in the worst. Also,

one cannot remove evil by censoring books without also censoring ballads, fiddlers, clothing, conversation, and all social life. 6. Milton alludes to More’s Utopia and Bacon's New Atlantis. 7. Rationing. 8. Reward, thanks.

9. Puppet shows.

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free, set before him a provoking object, ever almost in his eyes; herein consisted his merit, herein the right of his reward, the praise of his abstinence.! Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures round about us, but

that these rightly tempered are the very ingredients of virtue? They are not skillful considerers of human things, who imagine to remove sin by removing the matter of sin; for, besides that it is a huge heap increasing under the very act of diminishing, though some part of it may for a time be withdrawn from some persons, it cannot from all, in such a universal thing as books are; and when this is done, yet the sin remains entire. Though ye take from a covetous man all his treasure, he has yet one jewel left: ye cannot bereave him of his covetousness. Banish all objects of lust, shut up all youth into the severest discipline that can be exercised in any hermitage, ye cannot make them chaste that came not thither so: such great care and wisdom is required to the right managing of this point. Suppose we could expel sin by this means; look how much we thus expel of sin, so much we expel of virtue: for the matter of them both is the same; remove that, and ye remove them both alike. This justifies the high providence of God, who, though he commands us temperance, justice, continence, yet pours out before us, even to a profuseness, all desirable things, and gives us minds that can wander beyond all limit and satiety. Why should we then affect a rigor contrary to the manner of God and of nature, by abridging or scanting those means, which books freely permitted are, both to the trial of virtue and the exercise of truth? It would be better done to learn that the law must needs be frivolous which goes to restrain things uncertainly and yet equally working to good and to evil. And were I the chooser, a dram of well-doing should be preferred before many times as much the forcible hindrance of evil-doing. For God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person more than the restraint of ten vicious. xe

What advantage is it to be a man over it is to be a boy at school, if we have only scaped the ferula to come under the fescue of an imprimatur; if seri-

ous and elaborate writings, as if they were no more than the theme of a grammarlad under his pedagogue, must not be uttered without the cursory eyes of a temporizing and extemporizing licenser?? He who is not trusted with his own actions, his drift not being known to be evil, and standing to the hazard of law and penalty, has no great argument to think himself reputed, in the commonwealth wherein he was born, for other than a fool

or a foreigner. When a man writes to the world, he summons up all his reason and delib-

eration to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and likely con-

sults and confers with his judicious friends, after all which done he takes himself to be informed in what he writes, as well as any that writ before him. If in this the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state 1. Compare Milton’s representation of Adam and Eve in Eden in Paradise Lost. 2. “Ferula’: a schoolmaster’s rod; “fescue”: a pointer, “imprimatur”: “it may be printed” (Latin), appears on the title page of books approved by the

Roman Catholic censors. Milton’s keen sense of the affront to scholars and scholarship, and to himself, is evident in this passage. 3. He temporizes in following the times, and acts by whim (extemporizes).

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of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected (unless he carry all

his considerate diligence, all his midnight watchings, and expense of Palladian* oil, to the hasty view of an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps far his inferior in judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labor of book-writing), and if he be not repulsed, or slighted, must appear in print like a puny with his guardian, and his censor’s hand on the back of his title to be his bail and surety that he is no idiot, or seducer; it cannot be but a dishonor and derogation to the author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning.* * * And how can a man teach with authority, which is the life of teaching, how can he be a doctor® in his book as he ought to be, or else had better be silent, whenas all he teaches, all he delivers, is but under the tuition, under

the correction of his patriarchal’ licenser to blot or alter what precisely accords not with the hide-bound humor which he calls his judgment? When every acute reader upon the first sight of a pedantic license, will be ready with these like words to ding the book a quoit’s* distance from him: “I hate a pupil teacher, I endure not an instructor that comes to me under the wardship of an overseeing fist. | know nothing of the licenser, but that I have his own hand here for his arrogance; who shall warrant me his judgment?” “The state, sir,” replies the stationer,’? but has a quick return: “The state

shall be my governors, but not my critics; they may be mistaken in the choice of a licenser, as easily as this licenser may be mistaken in an author.” *

x

*

Well knows he who uses to consider, that our faith and knowledge thrives by exercise, as well as our limbs and complexion.' Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain;? if her waters flow not in a perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition. A man may be a heretic in the truth; and if he believe things only because his pastor says so, or the Assembly? so determines, without knowing other reason, though his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds becomes his heresy. 3c

*

*

Truth indeed came once into the world with her Divine Master, and was a perfect shape most glorious to look on: but when he ascended, and his apostles after him were laid asleep, then straight arose a wicked race of deceivers, who, as that story goes of the Egyptian Typhon with his conspirators, how they dealt with the good Osiris,* took the virgin Truth, hewed her lovely form into a thousand pieces, and scattered them to the four winds. From that time ever since, the sad friends of Truth, such as durst appear, imitating the careful search that Isis made for the mangled body of Osiris, went

4. Pertaining to Pallas Athena, goddess of wisdom. 5. A minor, hence, young, unseasoned. 6. Teacher.

7. Taking on the role of a father; also, standing in for ecclesiastical patriarchs or prelates (like Archbishop Laud). 8. A flat disc of stone or metal, thrown as an exer-

cise of strength or skill. 9. Printer,

who

was

responsible

for submitting

books before publication to the “licenser” (censor). 1. Constitution, the proper mingling of qualities in the body. 2. In Psalm 85.11. 3. The Westminster Assembly, convened by Parliament in 1643 to reorganize the English church along Presbyterian lines. 4. Plutarch tells, in “Isis and Osiris,” of Typhon’s scattering the fragments of his brother Osiris and of Isis’s efforts to recover them.

1484

|

JOHN

MILTON

up and down gathering up limb by limb, still as they could find them. We have not yet found them all, Lords and Commons, nor ever shall do, till her Master's second coming; he shall bring together every joint and member, and shall mold them into an immortal feature of loveliness and perfection. Suffer not these licensing prohibitions to stand at every place of opportunity, forbidding and disturbing them that continue seeking, that continue to do our obsequies’ to the torn body of our martyred saint. We boast our light; but if we look not wisely on the sun itself, it smites us

into darkness. Who can discern those planets that are oft combust,° and those stars of brightest magnitude that rise and set with the sun, until the opposite motion of their orbs bring them to such a place in the firmament where they may be seen evening or morning? The light which we have gained was given us, not to be ever staring on, but by it to discover onward things more remote from our knowledge. It is not the unfrocking of a priest, the unmitering of a bishop, and the removing him from off the Presbyterian shoulders, that will make us a happy nation. No, if other things as great in the church, and in the rule of life both economical and political, be not

looked into and reformed, we have looked so long upon the blaze that Zwinglius and Calvin’ hath beaconed up to us, that we are stark blind. There be who perpetually complain of schisms and sects, and make it such a calamity that any man dissents from their maxims. "Tis their own pride and ignorance which causes the disturbing, who neither will hear with meekness, nor can convince; yet all must be suppressed which is not found

in their syntagma.* They are the troublers, they are the dividers of unity, who neglect and permit not others to unite those dissevered pieces which are yet wanting to the body of Truth. To be still searching what we know not by what we know, still closing up truth to truth as we find it (for all her body is homogeneal and proportional), this is the golden rule in theology as well as in arithmetic, and makes up the best harmony in a church; not the forced and outward union of cold and neutral and inwardly divided minds. Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors: a nation not slow and dull, but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest that human capacity can soar to. Therefore the studies of learning in her deepest sciences have been so ancient and so eminent among us, that writers of good antiquity and ablest judgment have been persuaded that even the school of Pythagoras and the Persian wisdom took beginning from the old philoso-

phy of this island.’ And that wise and civil Roman, Julius Agricola,! who governed once here for Caesar, preferred the natural wits of Britain before the labored studies of the French. Nor is it for nothing that the grave and

5. Funeral or commemorative rites. 6. Burned up; in astrology, so close to the sun as not to be visible. 7. Zwingli and Calvin, famous Protestant

reformers, were mainstays of the Presbyterian cause. “Economical”: domestic. 8. Compilations of beliefs, creeds. 9. Some speculation existed as to whether the Pythagorean notion of the transmigration of souls might trace back to the Druids, but the

notion was mostly denied. 1. The “civil” (cultured, civilized) Agricola’s opinion of the British intellect is found in Tacitus’s Life of Agricola. Transylvania (following; now Romania) was an independent Protestant country

whose

citizens

sometimes

came

to

England to study. “Hercynian wilderness”: Roman name for a forested and mountainous region of Germany.

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1485

frugal Transylvanian? sends out yearly from as far as the mountainous borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their youth, but their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic arts. Yet that which is above all this, the favor and the love of heaven we have

great argument to think in a peculiar manner propitious and propending* towards us. Why else was this nation chosen before any other, that out of her, as out of Zion,* should be proclaimed and sounded forth the first tid-

ings and trumpet of Reformation to all Europe? And had it not been the obstinate perverseness of our prelates against the divine and admirable spirit of Wycliffe to suppress him as a schismatic and innovator, perhaps neither the Bohemian

Huss and Jerome,’ no, nor the name of Luther or of

Calvin, had been ever known: the glory of reforming all our neighbors had been completely ours. But now, as our obdurate clergy have with violence demeaned the matter, we are become hitherto the latest and the backward-

est scholars of whom® God offered to have made us the teachers. Now once again by all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy and devout men, as they daily and solemnly express their thoughts, God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in his church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself; what does he then but reveal himself to his servants, and as his manner is, first to his Englishmen? I say, as his manner is, first to us, though we mark not the method of his counsels, and

are unworthy. Behold now this vast city: a city of refuge,’ the mansion house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with his protection; the shop of war hath not there more anvils and hammers waking, to fashion out the plates® and instruments of armed justice in defense of beleaguered truth, than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching Reformation: others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to the force of reason and convincement.

What could a man require more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge? What wants there to such a towardly and pregnant” soil, but wise and faithful laborers, to make a knowing people, a nation of prophets,! of sages, and of worthies? We reckon more than five months yet to harvest; there need not be five weeks; had we but eyes to lift up, the fields are white already.? Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making. Under these fantastic terrors of sect and schism we wrong the earnest and zealous thirst after knowledge and understanding which God hath stirred up in this city. 2. The Protestant princes of Transylvania encouraged their theologians and humanist scholars to study at English universities. 3. Inclining, favorable. “Argument”: reason. 4. Mount

Zion,

in Jerusalem,

the site of the

Temple. 5. John Wycliffe was a 14th-century English reformer and translator of the Bible, whose books were forbidden by Pope Alexander V in 1409. John Huss spread Wycliffe’s doctrines on the Continent; he was burned at the stake in 1415, as

was (the next year) his follower Jerome of Prague. 6. Of those whom. “Demeaned”: conducted,

degraded. 7. Numbers 35 instructs the Jews to establish “cities of refuge” where those accused of crimes will be protected from “revengers of blood.” 8. Plate mail, for armor. 9. Favorable and fertile. 1. In Numbers 11.29 Moses reproaches Joshua, who complained of the presence of other prophets: “Enviest thou for my sake? Would God that all the Lord’s people were prophets.” 2. Milton is paraphrasing Christ’s words to his disciples (John 4.35): “Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields: for they are white already to harvest.”

1486

|

JOHN

MILTON

What some lament of, we rather should rejoice at, should rather praise

this pious forwardness among men, to reassume the ill-deputed care of their religion into their own hands again. A little generous prudence, a little forbearance of one another, and some grain of charity might win all these diligences to join, and unite into one general and brotherly search after truth; could we but forgo this prelatical tradition of crowding free consciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men. I doubt not, if some great and worthy stranger should come among us, wise to discern the mold and temper of a people, and how to govern it, observing the high hopes and aims, the diligent alacrity of our extended thoughts and reasonings in the pursuance of truth and freedom, but that he would cry out as Pyrrhus did, admiring the Roman docility and courage: “If such were my Epirots, I would not despair the greatest design that could be attempted, to make a church or kingdom happy.” Yet these are the men cried out against for schismatics and sectaries;* as if, while the temple of the Lord was building, some cut-

ting, some squaring the marble, others hewing the cedars, there should be a sort of irrational men, who could not consider there must be many schisms and many dissections* made in the quarry and in the timber, ere the house of God can be built. And when every stone is laid artfully together, it cannot be united into a continuity, it can but be contiguous in this world; neither

can every piece of the building be of one form; nay rather the perfection consists in this, that out of many moderate varieties and brotherly dissimilitudes that are not vastly disproportional, arises the goodly and the graceful symmetry that commends the whole pile and structure. Let us therefore be more considerate builders, more wise in spiritual architecture, when great reformation is expected. For now the time seems come, wherein Moses the great prophet may sit in heaven rejoicing to see that memorable and glorious wish of his fulfilled, when not only our seventy elders, but all the Lord’s people, are become prophets.°® ae

*

*

Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks:? methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam;* purging and unsealing her long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in their envious gabble would prognosticate? a year of sects and schisms. What should ye do then, should ye suppress all this flowery crop of knowledge and new light sprung up and yet springing daily in this city? Should ye

3. Though

the

trine and church order (the Westminster Assem-

Roman armies at Heraclea in 280 B.c.£., he was

King Pyrrhus

of Epirus

beat

bly) with the Jewish Sanhedrin of seventy elders.

much impressed by their discipline. 4. “Schismatics”: those who cut up or divide the church; “sectaries”: members of Protestant communions outside the national church. 5. Milton is playing on the literal meaning of “schism,” cutting up or dividing. 6. Again alluding to Numbers 11.29, Milton equates the English assembly of clergy to set doc-

7. The allusion is to Samson, whose uncut hair made him invincible, when he frustrated the

first three attempts of Delilah and the Philistines to subdue him in sleep (Judges 16.6—14). 8. Eagles were thought to be able to look directly at the sun. “Mewing”: molting, when the eagle sheds it feathers and thereby renews its coat. 9. Predict.

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1487

set an oligarchy of twenty engrossers! over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing do as good as bid ye suppress yourselves; and I will soon show how.? *

*

And now the time in special is by privilege to write and speak what may help to the further discussing of matters in agitation. The temple of Janus with his two controversial faces might now not unsignificantly be set open.’ And though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter? Her* confuting is the best and surest suppressing. He who hears what praying there is for light and clearer knowledge to be sent down among us would think of other matters to be constituted beyond the discipline of Geneva framed and fabriced already to our hands.’ Yet when the new light which we beg for shines in upon us, there be who envy and oppose if it come not first in at their casements. What a collusion is this, whenas we are exhorted by the wise man to use diligence, to seek for wisdom as for hidden treasures early and late,® that another order shall

enjoin us to know nothing but by statute. When a man hath been laboring the hardest labor in the deep mines of knowledge, hath furnished out his findings in all their equipage, drawn forth his reasons as it were a battle’ ranged, scattered and defeated all objections in his way, calls out his adversary into the plain, offers him the advantage of wind and sun if he please, only that he may try the matter by dint of argument; for his opponents then to skulk, to lay ambushments, to keep a narrow bridge of licensing where the challenger should pass, though it be valor enough in soldiership, is but weakness and cowardice in the wars of Truth. For who knows not that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty? She needs no policies nor stratagems nor licensings to make her victorious—those are the shifts and the defenses that error uses against her power. Give her but room, and do not bind her when she sleeps, for then she speaks not true, as the old Proteus® did, who spake oracles only when he was caught and bound, but then rather she turns herself into all shapes except her own, and perhaps tunes her voice according to the time, as Micaiah did before Ahab,’ until she

be adjured into her own likeness.

1. Engrossers, much hated in the English countryside, bought up great quantities of grain and held it for times of famine, selling it at high prices; Milton equates them with the twenty authorized printers, the stationers. 2. Milton goes on to argue that Parliament, by its own liberalizing reforms to date, has created the vigorous and inquiring minds it now seeks to

suppress. 3. Janus, as god of beginnings and endings, had two faces looking in opposite directions; a door dedicated to him in Rome was kept open in time of war, closed in time of peace. 4. IL.e., Falsehood’s.

5. Milton was already disenchanted with Genevan “Discipline” (Presbyterian church government) and within a year or so would be writing

“New presbyter is but old priest, writ large.” “Fabriced”: fabricated. 6. Solomon's advice in Proverbs 8.11. 7. Line of battle. Wind and sun (below) were significant advantages in a fight with swords. 8. The sea god who could change shape at will, to avoid capture (Odyssey 4). 9. Micaiah, a prophet of God, tried for a time to

disguise an unpleasant prophecy from King Ahab but then spoke truth when adjured to do so (1 Kings 22.10—28).

1488

|

JOHN

MILTON

Yet it is not impossible that she may have more shapes than one. What else is all that rank of things indifferent, wherein Truth may be on this side or on the other without being unlike herself? What but a vain shadow else is the abolition of those ordinances, that handwriting nailed to the cross?! What great purchase is this Christian liberty which Paul so often boasts of? His doctrine is that he who eats or eats not, regards a day or regards it not, may do either to the Lord.* How many other things might be tolerated in peace and left to conscience, had we but charity, and were it not the chief stronghold of our hypocrisy to be ever judging one another? | fear yet this iron yoke of outward conformity hath left a slavish print upon our necks; the ghost of a linen decency? yet haunts us. We stumble and are impatient at the least dividing of one visible congregation from another, though it be not in fundamentals; and through our forwardness to suppress and our backwardness to recover any enthralled piece of truth out of the grip of custom, we care not* to keep truth separated from truth, which is the fiercest rent and disunion of all. We do not see that while we still affect by all means a rigid and external formality, we may as soon fall again into a gross conforming stupidity, a stark and dead congealment of “wood and hay and stubble,” forced and frozen together, which is more to the sudden degenerating of a church than many subdichotomies of petty schisms. Not that I can think well of every light separation, or that all in a church is to be expected “gold and silver and precious stones.” It is not possible for man to sever the wheat from the tares, the good fish from the other fry; that must be the angels’ ministry at the end of mortal things.°® Yet if all cannot be of one mind—as who looks they should be?—this doubtless is more wholesome, more prudent, and more Christian, that many be tolerated rather

than all compelled. | mean not tolerated popery and open superstition, which, as it extirpates all religions and civil supremacies, so itself should be extirpate, provided first that all charitable and compassionate means be used to win and regain the weak and the misled; that also which is impious or evil absolutely, either against faith or manners,’ no law can possibly permit that intends not to unlaw itself; but those neighboring differences or rather indifferences are what I speak of, whether in some point of doctrine or of disci-

pline, which though they may be many yet need not interrupt “the unity of spirit,” if we could but find among us the “bond of peace.”® In the meanwhile, if anyone would write and bring his helpful hand to the slow-moving reformation which we labor under, if truth have spoken to him before others, or but seemed at least to speak, who hath so bejesuited?

us that we should trouble that man with asking license to do so worthy a deed? And not consider this, that if it come to prohibiting, there is not aught more likely to be prohibited than truth itself; whose first appearance to our 1. The locution, from Colossians 2.14, implies that the Crucifixion canceled all the rules and

penalties of the Mosaic law. Paul’s doctrine of Christian liberty (below) is expressed in Galatians 5 and elsewhere. 2. In the Lord’s service. 3. White bands around the necks of clergymen are made emblems of formal piety. 4. Scruple not.

5. The contrast between “wood and hay and stubble” and “gold and silver and precious stones” (next paragraph) is from 1 Corinthians 3.12. 6. In Matthew 13.24-30, 36-43, Christ in a

parable tells his disciples to let the wheat and tares (weeds) grow up together till harvest time. 7. Morals. 8. The quoted phrases are from Ephesians 4.3. 9. Imposed on us Jesuit ideas (of censorship)

HOW

SOON

HATH

TIME

|

1489

eyes bleared and dimmed with prejudice and custom is more unsightly and unplausible than many errors, even as the person is of many a great man slight and contemptible to see to. And what do they tell us vainly of new opinions, when this very opinion of theirs, that none must be heard but whom they like, is the worst and newest opinion of all others, and is the chief cause why sects and schisms do so much abound, and true knowledge is kept at distance from us; besides yet a greater danger which is in it. For when God shakes a kingdom! with strong and healthful commotions to a general reforming, it is not untrue that many sectaries and false teachers are then busiest in seducing; but yet more true it is that God then raises to his own work men of rare abilities and more than common industry, not only to look back and revise what hath been taught heretofore, but to gain further and go on some new enlightened steps in the discovery of truth. 1644

Sonnets Milton wrote twenty-four sonnets between 1630 and 1658. Five in Italian constitute a mini-Petrarchan sequence on a perhaps imaginary Italian lady. The rest, in English, are individual poems on a wide variety of topics and occasions, though not on the usual sonnet topics (love, as in the sequences of Sidney, Spenser, and Shakespeare, or religious devotion, as in that of Donne). Milton writes sometimes about personal crises (his blindness, the death of his wife), sometimes about political issues or personages (Cromwell, the persecuting Parliament), sometimes

about friends and friendship (Cyriack Skinner, Lady Margaret Ley), sometimes about historical events (a threatened royalist attack on London, the massacre of Protestants

in Piedmont). His tone ranges from Jonsonian urbanity to prophetic denunciation. The form of the sonnets is Petrarchan (see “Poetic Forms and Literary Terminology,” in the appendices to this volume), but in the later sonnets especially (e.g., the Blindness and Piedmont sonnets) the sense runs on from line to line, overriding the expected end-stopped lines and the octave/sestet shift. There is some precedent for this in the Italian sonneteer Giovanni della Casa, but not for the powerful tension Milton creates as meaning and emotion strive within and against the formal metrics of the Petrarchan sonnet. Milton’s new ways with the sonnet had a profound and acknowledged influence on the Romantic poets, especially Wordsworth and Shelley.

How Soon Hath Time

;

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stol’n on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive! the truth,

1. Milton alludes to Haggai 2.7: “I will shake all nations, and the desire of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with glory, saith the

ii Lord of hosts.” 1. Misrepresent. “Semblance”: appearance.

1490

|

JOHN

MILTON

That I to manhood am arrived so near,

And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th.°

endows

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest measure even?

S

To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;

All is, if Ihave grace to use it so, As ever in my great Taskmaster’s eye. 1645

1632?

On the New Forcers of Conscience under the

Long Parliament! Because you have thrown off your prelate lord,* And with stiff vows renounced his liturgy,

To seize the widowed whore Plurality* From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred, Wn

Dare ye for this adjure® the civil sword?*

invoke

To force our consciences that Christ set free,

And ride us with a classic hierarchy’ Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rutherford?® Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent S

15

Would have been held in high esteem with Paul Must now be named and printed heretics By shallow Edwards and Scotch what-d’ye-call:’ But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing? worse than those of Trent,®

fraudulent

That so the Parliament?

dealings

2. Equal, adequate. “It”: Milton’s inner growth. “Even / To that same lot”: conformed to my appointed destiny. 3. The final lines allow for various readings. “Taskmaster” identifies God with the parable (Matthew 20.1—16) in which a vineyard keeper takes on workers throughout the day, paying the same wages to those hired at the first and at the eleventh hour. 1. The sonnet targets the Presbyterians, whom

4. State authority. 5. The Presbyterian church order comprised of synods and classes as governing boards and disciplinary courts.

Milton in The Reason of Church Government (pp. 1474-79) and other antiprelatical tracts of

Gangraena (1645, 1646). It even identifies Milton as the founder of a sect of Divorcers, promoting “divorce at pleasure.” “Scotch what-d’ye-call” may

1641-42 had supported against the bishops. Now that they have overthrown the bishops and dominate the Long Parliament, they seek to become the national church, repressing all others. This sonetto cauduto, or “tailed sonnet” (an

Italian form) has the usual fourteen lines followed by two “tails” of three lines each. 2. Bishops and the ecclesiastical church structure. 3. The practice of holding several benefices at once; she is a “widowed whore” because her earlier lovers, the Anglican clergy, can no longer possess her.

6. Adam Stuart and Samuel Rutherford, Scottish Presbyterian pamphleteers who urged the establishment of an English national Presbyterian church on the Scottish model. 7. Thomas Edwards analyzed hundreds of socalled

heresies

in a book

refer to another

picturesquely

Scots cleric, Robert

titled

Baillie, or

may simply be a sneer at the unpronounceability of Scottish names. 8. The Council of Trent, held by the Roman Church to deal with the Protestant Reformation, was notorious as a scene of political jockeying. 9. In the previous few months Independents and more secular-minded republicans had gained some strength in the Parliament, so Milton could hope they might weigh in against Presbyterian repression.

TO

LORD

GENERAL

CROMWELL

|

149]

May with their wholesome and preventive shears Clip your phylacteries,' though balk your ears,” And succor our just fears When they shall read this clearly in your charge: New presbyter is but old priest writ large.’

20 ca.

THE

1673

1646

To the Lord General Cromwell, May 1652! Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions? rude,

wi)

Guided by faith and matchless fortitude To peace and truth? thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crownéd Fortune proud Hast reared God’s trophies,* and his work pursued, While Darwen stream with blood of Scots imbrued° And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester’s laureate wreath;® yet much remains

10

To conquer still; peace hath her victories No less renowned than war; new foes arise,

Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains:’ Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves* whose gospel is their maw.°

belly 1694

1652

1. Little scrolls containing texts from the Pentateuch, worn on the forehead and arm by observant Jews; Milton takes them as a symbol of self-righteous ostentation. 2. “Balk”: spare. Mutilation by cutting off the ears was a punishment formerly suffered by several Presbyterian leaders, as Milton hereby reminds them. Milton changed the rather cruel manuscript version of this line—“Crop ye as close as marginal P ’s ears”—alluding to the ultraprolific pamphleteer William Prynne, who stuffed his margins with citations, and who had his ears cropped twice. 3. “Priest” is, etymologically, a contracted form of “Presbyter.” 1. The sonnet appeals to Cromwell, a longtime supporter of religious toleration but also of some kind of loosely defined national church, to oppose recent proposals by Independents to set up a national church with a paid clergy and some limits to toleration. This is the only Milton sonnet to end with an epigrammatic couplet. It could not be published in the 1673 Poems of Mil-

ton because the subject would have offended the restored Stuart monarchy. 2. Cromwell was a target of slander and vituperation from royalists and from extreme radicals. 3. The words “Truth and Peace” were on a coin issued by Parliament to honor Cromwell’s victories over the Scots

at Preston

(1648),

Dunbar

(1650), and Worcester (1651).

4. Alluding to the ancient Greek custom of erecting trophies of victory on the battlefield. 5. Stained with blood. The river Darwen runs through Preston, site of amajor victory by Cromwell over the Scots. 6. Cromwell described his victory at Worcester as his “crowning mercy.” 7. Alluding to the new proposals that Parliament, the secular power, repress heresies and blasphemy. 8. Milton fiercely opposed a paid clergy, believing they should support themselves or be supported by their congregations.

1492

|

JOHN

MILTON

When I Consider How My Light Is Spent! When I consider how my light is spent,°

s

extinguished

Ere half my days,” in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide® Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide;

10

“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?” foolishly I fondly? ask; but Patience to prevent? That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state® Is kingly.» Thousands at his bidding speed And post o’er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.”

/forestall

splendor

1673

1652?

On the Late Massacre in Piedmont!

an

Avenge,* O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones,’ Forget not: in thy book’ record their groans Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that rolled

1. Apparently written soon after Milton lost his sight entirely in 1652. 2. Milton was forty-three in 1652; he is obviously not thinking of the biblical lifespan of seventy, but perhaps of that of his father, who died at eighty-four. 3. In the parable of the talents (Matthew 25.14— 30), a crucial text for Puritans, the servants who put their master’s money (“talents”) to earn interest for him were praised, while the servant who buried the single talent he was given was deprived of it and cast into outer darkness. Milton puns on “literary talent.” “Useless” (line 4) carries a pun on “usury,” the return expected by the Master. 4. Milton alludes here to the parable of the vineyard keeper (see “How Soon Hath Time,” note 3), and also to John 9.4, spoken byJesus before curing a blind man: “I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.” 5. The changed metaphor for God—from master who needs to profit from his workers to king— allows the inference that those who “stand and wait” may be placed nearest the throne. 1. The Waldensians (or Vaudois) were a protoProtestant sect dating to the 12th century who lived in the valleys of northern Italy (the Pied-

mont) and southern France; Protestants consid-

ered them a remnant retaining apostolic purity, free of Catholic superstitions and graven images (“stocks and stones,” line 4). The treaty that had allowed them freedom of worship was bypassed in 1655 when the armies of the Catholic duke of Savoy conducted a massacre, razing villages,

committing unspeakable atrocities, and hurling women and children from the mountaintops. Protestant Europe was outraged, and in his capacity as Cromwell’s Latin secretary Milton translated and wrote several letters about the

episode. The sonnet incorporates details from such letters and the contemporary newsbooks. Here Milton transforms the sonnet into a prophetic denunciation. 2. Cf. Revelation 6.9-10: “the souls of them that were slain for the word of God... cried with a loud voice, saying, ‘How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood... ?’” 3. Pagan gods of wood and stone, but with allusion to Roman Catholic “idols.” 4. Cf. Revelation 20.12: “the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” “Sheep” (next

line) echoes Romans 8.36: “we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.”

PARADISE

LOST

|

1493

Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they

10

To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow O’er all th’ Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple tyrant: that from these may grow A hundredfold, who having learnt thy way Early may fly the Babylonian woe.°® 1673

1655

Methought I Saw My Late Espouseéd Saint!

wi

Methought I saw my late espouséd saint Brought to me like Alcestis? from the grave, Whom Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from death by force though pale and faint. Mine, as whom? washed from spot of childbed taint, Purification in the old law did save,

10

And Full Came Her

4

such, as yet once more I trust to have sight of her in heaven without restraint, vested all in white, pure as her mind. face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight”

Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined

So clear, as in no face with more delight. But O, as to embrace me she inclined,

I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night. 1673

1658

Paradise Lost The setting of Milton’s great epic encompasses Heaven, Hell, primordial Chaos, and the planet earth. It features battles among immortal spirits, voyages through space, and lakes of fire. Yet its protagonists are a married couple living in a garden, and its climax consists in the eating of a piece of fruit. Paradise Lost is ultimately about the human

condition, the Fall that caused “all our woe,”

and the promise and means of restoration. It is also about knowing and choosing, about free will. In the opening passages of Books 1, 3, 7, and 9, Milton highlights

5. The pope, wearing his tiara with three crowns. The passage alludes to Tertullian’s maxim that “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church”; also to the parable of the sower (Matthew 13.3), some of whose seed brought forth fruit “an

hundredfold” (see next line); and also to Cadmus, who sowed dragon’s teeth that sprang forth armed men. 6. Protestants often identified the Roman Church with the whore of Babylon (Revelation 17-18). 1. There is some debate as to whether this poem refers to Milton's first wife, Mary Powell, who died in May 1652, three days after giving birth to her third daughter, or his second wife, Katherine

Woodcock, who died in February 1658, after giving birth (in October 1657) to a daughter. The

text can support either, but the latter seems more likely. The sonnet is couched as a dream vision. 2. In Euripides’ Alcestis, Alcestis, wife of Admetus, is rescued from the underworld by Hercules (“Jove’s great son,” next line) and restored, veiled, to Admetus; he is overjoyed when he lifts the veil, but she must remain silent until she is ritually cleansed. 3. As one whom. 4. The Mosaic Law (Leviticus 12.2—8) prescribed periods for the purification of women after childbirth (eighty days for a daughter). 5. She is veiled like Alcestis, and Milton's sight of her is only “fancied”, he never saw the face of his second wife, Katherine, because of his blindness,

1494

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MILTON

the choices and difficulties he faced in creating his poem. His central characters— Satan, Beelzebub, Abdiel, Adam, and Eve—are confronted with hard choices under

the pressure of powerful desires and sometimes devious temptations. Milton’s readers, too, are continually challenged to choose and to reconsider their most basic assumptions about freedom, heroism, work, pleasure, language, nature, and love. The great themes of Paradise Lost are intimately linked to the political questions at stake in the English Revolution and the Restoration, but the connection is by no means straightforward. This is a poem in which Satan leads a revolution against an absolute monarch and in which questions of tyranny, servitude, and liberty are debated in a parliament in Hell. Milton’s readers are hereby challenged to rethink these topics and, like Abdiel debating with Satan in Books 5 and 6, to make crucial distinctions between God as monarch and earthly kings. In Milton’s time, the conventions of epic poetry followed a familiar recipe. The action was to begin in medias res (in the middle of things), following the poet’s statement of his theme and invocation of his Muse. The reader could expect grand battles and love affairs, supernatural

intervention,

a descent

into the underworld,

catalogues of warriors, and epic similes. Milton had absorbed the epic tradition in its entirety, and his poem abounds with echoes of Homer and Virgil, the fifteenthcentury Italians Tasso and Ariosto, and the English Spenser. But in Paradise Lost he at once heightens epic conventions and values and utterly transforms them. This is the epic to end all epics. Milton gives us the first and greatest of all wars (between God and Satan) and the first and greatest of love affairs (between Adam and Eve).

His theme is the destiny of the entire human race, caught up in the temptation and Fall of our first “grand parents.” Milton challenges his readers in Paradise Lost, at once fulfilling and defying all of our expectations. Nothing in the epic tradition or in biblical interpretation can prepare us for the Satan who hurtles into view in Book 1, with his awesome energy and defiance, incredible fortitude, and, above all, magnificent rhetoric. For some

readers, including Blake and Shelley, Satan is the true hero of the poem. But Milton is engaged in a radical reevaluation of epic values, and Satan's version of heroism must be contrasted with those of the loyal Abdiel and the Son of God. Moreover, the poem’s truly epic action takes place not on the battlefield but in the moral and domestic arena. Milton’s Adam and Eve are not conventional epic heroes, but neither are they the conventional Adam and Eve. Their state of innocencé is not childlike, tranquil, and free of sexual desire. Instead, the first couple enjoy sex, experience tension and passion, make mistakes of judgment, and grow in knowledge. Their task is to prune what is unruly in their own natures as they prune the vegetation in their garden, for both have the capacity to grow wild. Their relationship exhibits gender hierarchy, but Milton’s early readers may have been surprised by the fullness and complexity of Eve’s character and the centrality of her role, not only in the Fall but in the promised restoration. We expect in epics a grand style, and Milton’s style engulfs us from the outset with its energy and power, as those rushing, enjambed, blank-verse lines propel us along with only a few pauses for line endings or grammar (there is only one full stop in the first twenty-six lines). The elevated diction and complex syntax, the sonorities and patternings make a magnificent music. But that music is an entire orchestra of tones, including the high political rhetoric of Satan in Books 1 and 2, the evocative sensuousness of the descriptions of Eden, the delicacy of Eve’s love lyric to Adam in Book 4, the relatively plain speech of God in Book 3, and the speech rhythms of Adam and Eve’s marital quarrel in Book 9. This majestic achievement depends on the poets rejection of heroic couplets, the norm for epic and tragedy in the Restoration, vigorously defended by Dryden but denounced by Milton in his note on “The

Verse.” The choice of verse form was, like so many other things in Milton’s life, in

part a question of politics. Milton's terms associate the “troublesome and modern

PARADISE

EOST,

BiO'OK

i

|

1495

bondage of rhyming” with Restoration monarchy and the repression of dissidents and present his use of unrhymed blank verse as a recovery of “ancient liberty.” The first edition (1667) presented Paradise Lost in ten books; the second (1674)

recast it into twelve books, after the Virgilian model, splitting the original Books 7 and 10. We present the twelve-book epic in its entirety, to allow readers to experience the impact of the whole.

PARADISE LOST SECOND EDITION (1674)

The Verse The measure is English heroic verse without rhyme, as that of Homer in Greek and of Virgil in Latin; rhyme being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter’ and lame meter; graced indeed since by the use of some famous modern poets,” carried away by custom, but much to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to express many things otherwise, and for the most part worse than else they would have expressed them. Not without cause therefore some both Italian*® and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rhyme both in longer and shorter works, as have also long since our best English tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt numbers,* fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned ancients both in poetry and all good oratory. This neglect then of rhyme so little is to be taken for a defect, though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is to be esteemed an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the troublesome and modern bondage of rhyming.

Book 1 The Argument This first book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject, man’s disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise wherein he was placed: then touches the prime cause of his fall, the Serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent; who revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of angels, was by the command of God driven out of Heaven with all his crew 1. Perhaps the bawdy content of the Latin songs composed by goliardic poets of the Middle Ages; they learned rhyme from medieval hymns. 2. Notably, Dryden. See his Essay of Dramatic ! Poesy. 3. Trissino and Tasso. 4. Appropriate rhythm.

1. Paradise Lost appeared originally without any sort of prose aid to the reader, but the printer asked Milton for some “Arguments, or summary explanations of the action in the various books, and these were prefixed to later issues of the poem.

1496

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JOHN

MILTON

into the great deep. Which action passed over, the poem hastes into the midst of things,* presenting Satan with his angels now fallen into Hell, described here, not in the center? (for Heaven and Earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed) but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos: here Satan with his angels lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from con-

fusion, calls up him who next in order and dignity lay by him; they confer of their miserable fall. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded; they rise, their numbers, array of battle, their

chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech, comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven, but tells them lastly of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy or report in Heaven; for that angels were long before this visible creation, was the opinion of many ancient Fathers.* To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine’ thereon he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium the palace of Satan rises, suddenly built out of the deep: the infernal peers there sit in council. Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit! Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal? taste

deadly

Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man? vi

Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,

Sing Heav’nly Muse,’ that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire

10

That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning how the heav’ns and earth Rose out of Chaos: or if Sion hill? Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed Fast by the oracle of God; I thence

Invoke thy aid to my advent’rous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th’ Aonian mount,’ while it pursues

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.° And chiefly thou O Spirit,’ that dost prefer Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first

Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread

2 . According to Horace, the epic poet should begin “in medias res.” 3. Le., of the earth. 4. Church Fathers, the Christian writers of the first centuries. 5. I.e., what action to take. 1. Eve's apple, and all the consequences of eating it. This first proem (lines 1-26) combines the epic statement of theme and invocation. 2. Christ, the second Adam. 3. In Greek mythology, Urania, Muse of astronomy; here, however, by the references to Oreb

(Horeb)

and

Sinai

(following),

identified

with

the Muse who inspired Moses (“that shepherd”)

to write Genesis and the other four books of the Pentateuch for the instruction of the Jews (“the chosen seed”).

4. Mount Zion: the site of Solomon's Temple. “Siloa’s brook” (next line): a spring near the Temple where Christ cured a blind man. 5. Helicon, home of the classical Muses. Milton will attempt to surpass Homer and Virgil. 6. Paradoxically, Milton vaunts his originality in a translated line from Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso 1.2. The allusion also challenges the romantic epic in Ariosto’s tradition. 7. Here identified with God’s creating power,

PARADISE

MEO Si,

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Dove-like sat’st brooding® on the vast abyss And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark Ilumine, what is low raise and support;

That to the height of this great argument® I may assert Eternal Providence, — And justify® the ways of God to men.

30

35

Say first, for Heav’n hides nothing from thy view Nor the deep tract of Hell, say first what cause” Moved our grand parents in that happy state, Favored of Heav’n so highly, to fall off From their Creator, and transgress his will For® one restraint, lords of the world besides?° Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile

subject, theme show thejustice of

because of / otherwise

Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived The mother of mankind, what time® his pride Had cast him out from Heav’n, with all his host

40

when

Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring To set himself in glory above his peers,° He trusted to have equaled the Most High, If he opposed; and with ambitious aim Against the throne and monarchy of God Raised impious war in Heav’n and battle proud With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell

equals

In adamantine! chains and penal fire, 50

Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms. Nine times the space? that measures day and night To mortal men, he with his horrid crew

Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf Confounded though immortal: but his doom Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him; round he throws his baleful° eyes That witnessed huge affliction and dismay Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate: At once as far as angels’ ken° he views 60

The dismal situation waste and wild,

65

A dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace

malignant

range of sight

from the Latin (Tremellius)

8. A composite of phrases and ideas from Gene-

dove image comes

void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters”). Only a small number of Milton's many allusions to the Bible (in many versions)

9. An opening question like this is an epic convention. 1. A mythical substance of great hardness. 2. Extent of time.

sis 1.2 (“And the earth was without

form, and

can be indicated in the notes. Milton’s brooding

Bible version, incubabat, “incubated.”

1498

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JOHN

MILTON

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes

That comes to all;> but torture without end

Still urges,° and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed: Such place Eternal Justice had prepared For those rebellious, here their prison ordained

always provokes

In utter darkness, and their portion set

wi

As far removed from God and light of Heav’n As from the center thrice to th’ utmost pole.* O how unlike the place from whence they fell! There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,

He soon discerns, and welt’ring® by his side 80

rolling in the waves

One next himself in power, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and named

Beélzebub.’ To whom th’ Arch-Enemy, And thence in Heav’n called Satan,° with bold words

90

Breaking the horrid silence thus began. “If thou beest he; but O how fall’n!’ how changed From him, who in the happy realms of light Clothed with transcendent brightness didst outshine Myriads though bright: if he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise, Joined with me once, now misery hath joined In equal ruin: into what pit thou seest From what height fall’n, so much the stronger proved He with his thunder:° and till then who knew

thunderbolt

The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those, 95

Nor what the potent victor in his rage Can else inflict, do I repent or change,

Though changed in outward luster, that fixed mind And high disdain, from sense of injured merit, 100

105

That with the mightiest raised me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along Innumerable force of spirits armed That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring, His utmost power with adverse power opposed In dubious? battle on the plains of Heav’n, And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study® of revenge, immortal hate, 3. The phrase alludes to Dante (“All hope abandon, ye who enter here”).

4. Milton makes use of various images of the cosmos in Paradise Lost: (1) the earth is the center of the (Ptolemaic) cosmos

of ten concentric

spheres; (2) the earth and the whole cosmos are an appendage hanging from Heaven by a golden chain;

(3) the cosmos

seems

Copernican

from

the angels’ perspective (see Book 8). Here, the fall from Heaven to Hell is described as thrice as far as the distance from the center (earth) to the outermost sphere.

of uncertain outcome

intense consideration

5. A Phoenician deity, or Baal (the name means “Lord of Flies”). He is called the prince of devils in Matthew 12.24. As with the other fallen angels, his angelic name

has been obliterated, and he is

now called by the name he will bear as a pagan deity. That literary strategy evokes all the evil associations attaching to those names in human history. 6. In Hebrew the name means “adversary.”

7. Alludes to Isaiah 14.12: “How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, Son of the morning.”

RARAD

110

115

130

USE

Ors

And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome?® That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted® his empire, that were low indeed, That were an ignominy and shame beneath This downfall; since by fate the strength of gods? And this empyreal substance cannot fail,° Since through experience of this great event In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced, We may with more successful hope resolve To wage by force or guile eternal war Irreconcilable, to our grand foe, Who now triimphs, and in th’ excess ofjoy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav’n.” So spake th’ apostate angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair: And him thus answered soon his bold compeer.® “O Prince, O Chief of many thronéd Powers, That led th’ embattled Seraphim! to war Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, endangered Heav’ns perpetual King; And put to proof his high supremacy, Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate; Too well I see and rue the dire event,°

BOOK

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1499

feared for

cease to exist

comrade

outcome

That with sad overthrow and foul defeat Hath lost us Heav’n, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low,

140

As far as gods and heav’nly essences Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains Invincible, and vigor soon returns, Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallowed up in endless misery. But what if he our conqueror (whom I now

Of force® believe almighty, since no less 145

150

necessarily

Than such could have o’erpow’red such force as ours) Have left us this our spirit and strength entire Strongly to suffer and support our pains, That we may so suffice® his vengeful ire, Or do him mightier service as his thralls By right of war, whate’er his business be Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, Or do his errands in the gloomy deep; What can it then avail though yet we feel 8. L.e., what else does it mean not to be overcome? 9. A term commonly used in the poem for angels. But to Satan and his followers it means more, as Satan claims the position of a god, subject to fate but nothing else. Their substance is “empyreal” (next line), of the empyrean.

satisfy

1. According to tradition, there were nine orders of angels, arranged hierarchically—seraphim, cherubim, thrones, dominions, virtues, powers, principalities, archangels, and angels. The poem makes use of some of these titles but does not keep this hierarchy.

1500

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JOHN

MILTON

Strength undiminished, or eternal being To undergo eternal punishment?” Whereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied. “Fall’n Cherub, to be weak is miserable

160

Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, To do aught® good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our sole delight, As being the contrary to his high will Whon we resist. If then his providence Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, Our labor must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil; Which ofttimes may succeed, so as perhaps

anything

Shall grieve him, if I fail? not, and disturb

err

His inmost counsels from their destined aim. But see the angry victor hath recalled 170

His ministers of vengeance and pursuit

Back to the gates of Heav’n: the sulphurous hail Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid®

calmed

The fiery surge, that from the precipice Of Heav’n received us falling, and the thunder, Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not slip® th’ occasion, whether scorn, 180

185

190

195

let slip

Or satiate fury yield it from our foe. Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid° flames Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend From off the tossing of these fiery waves, There rest, if any rest can harbor there, And reassembling our afflicted powers, Consult how we may henceforth most offend® Our enemy, our own loss how repair, How overcome this dire calamity, What reinforcement we may gain from hope, If not what resolution from despair.”* Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate With head uplift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blazed, his other parts besides Prone on the flood, extended long and large Lay floating many a rood,’ in bulk as huge

bluish

armies

harm, vex

As whom’ the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,

as those whom

Briareos or Typhon,* whom the den 2. Five of the last nine lines of Satan’s speech rhyme. 3. An old unit of measure, between six and eight yards, 4. Both the Titans, led by Briareos (said to have had a hundred hands), and the earth-born Giants,

represented by Typhon (who lived in Cilicea near Tarsus

and

was

said

to have

had

a hundred

heads), fought with Jove. They were punished by being thrown into the underworld. Christian mythographers found in these stories an analogy to Satan’s revolt and punishment.

RARAIDIESIE

200

SEOs Ti,

By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast Leviathan,’ which God of all his works

205

210

Created hugest that swim th’ ocean stream: Him haply° slumb’ring on the Norway foam The pilot of some small night-foundered?® skiff, Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,° With fixéd anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee,° while night Invests° the sea, and wished morn delays: So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay Chained on the burning lake, nor ever thence

perhaps overcome by night

out ofthe wind covers

Had ris’n or heaved his head, but that the will

bo wa

tN th o

And high permission of all-ruling Heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs, That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he sought Evil to others, and enraged might see How all his malice served but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy shown On man by him seduced, but on himself Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured. Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature; on each hand the flames Driv’n backward slope their pointing spires,° and rolled In billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid® vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight

points of flames dreadful, bristling

Aloft, incumbent on® the dusky air

resting on

That felt unusual weight, till on dry land alights

He lights,° if it were land that ever burned With solid, as the lake with liquid fire, 230

And such appeared in hue; as when the force Of subterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side

Of thund’ring Etna,’ whose combustible And fueled entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublimed® with mineral fury, aid the winds, And leave a singéd bottom all involved® With stench and smoke: such resting found the sole

vaporized enveloped

Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate, 240

245

Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian® flood As gods, and by their own recovered strength, Not by the sufferance® of supernal power. “Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,” Said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat® That we must change for Heav’n, this mournful gloom For that celestial light? Be it so, since he Who now is sov’reign can dispose and bid 5. The whale, often identified with the great sea monster and enemy of the Lord in Isaiah 17.1

and the crocodile-like dragon of Job 41. Both were also identified with Satan. 6. The story of the deceived sailor and the illu-

Styxlike, hellish

sory island was a commonplace,

permission estate

but the refer-

ence to Norway suggests a 16th-century version

by Olaus Magnus, a Swedish historian. 7. Pelorus and Etna are voleanic mountains

Sicily.

in

1502

iS)ir So

255

260

|

JOHN

MILTON

What shall be right: farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equaled, force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell happy fields Where joy forever dwells: Hail horrors, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new possessor: one who brings A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n.® What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than°® he

barely less than

Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built Here for his envy,’ will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav’n. 1 But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,

tO lon)uv

Th’ associates and copartners of our loss Lie thus astonished® on th’ oblivious pool,? And call them not to share with us their part

stunned

In this unhappy mansion, or once more

With rallied arms to try what may be yet 270

ice)~I vw

280

Regained in Heav’n, or what more lost in Hell?”

So Satan spake, and him Beélzebub Thus answered. “Leader of those armies bright, Which but th’ Omnipotent none could have foiled, If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge® Of battle when it raged, in all assaults Their surest signal, they will soon resume New courage and revive, though now they lie Groveling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,

front lines

As we erewhile, astounded and amazed,

tw loo}wil

No wonder, fall’n such a pernicious highth.” He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield Ethereal temper,’ massy, large and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference

200

Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views* At evening from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe. 8. Compare Satan’s soliloquy, 4.32—113. 9. l.e., because he desires this place. 1. An ironic echo of Odyssey 11.489—91, where the shade of Achilles tells Odysseus that it is better to be a farmhand on earth than king among the dead. 2. The epithet “oblivious” is transferred from the fallen angels to the pool into which they have

fallen. 3. l.e., tempered in celestial fire. 4. Galileo, who looked through a telescope (“optic glass”) from the hill town of Fiesole, outside Florence, in the valley of the Arno River (“Valdarno,” val d’Arno, line 290). In 1610 he published a book describing the mountains on the moon.

PARADISE

295

LOST,

His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral,° were but a wand He walked with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marl,° not like those steps On heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime

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admiral’s ship soil

Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire; 300

Nathless° he so endured, till on the beach Of that inflamed? sea, he stood and called His legions, angel forms, who lay entranced Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks

nevertheless

flaming

In Vallombrosa,’ where th’ Etrurian shades

High overarched embow’;? or scattered sedge® Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed

form bowers / seaweed

Hath vexed the Red Sea coast,° whose waves o’erthrew

310

Busiris’ and his Memphian chivalry, While with perfidious hatred they pursued The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld From the safe shore their floating carcasses And broken chariot wheels; so thick bestrown

Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He called so loud, that all the hollow deep 45

Of Hell resounded. “Princes, Potentates,

320

Warriors, the flow’r of Heav’n, once yours, now lost, If such astonishment as this can seize Eternal Spirits: or have ye chos’n this place After the toil of battle to repose Your wearied virtue,° for the ease you find

strength, valor

To slumber here, as in the vales of Heav’n?

Or in this abject posture have ye sworn To adore the conqueror? who now beholds Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood With scattered arms and ensigns,’ till anon His swift pursuers from Heav’n gates discern Th’ advantage, and descending tread us down

battle flags

Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts

Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf. 330

Awake, arise, or be forever fall’n.”

335

They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung Upon the wing, as when men wont® to watch On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread, Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. Nor did they not perceive the evil plight

accustomed

In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;® 5. The name means “shady valley” and refers to a region high in the Apennines, about twenty miles from Florence, in Tuscany (“Etruria”). Similes comparing the numberless dead to falling leaves are frequent in epic (e.g., Aeneid 6.30910). 6. Orion is a constellation whose rising near sunset in late summer and autumn was associated with storms in the Red Sea.

7. Mythical Egyptian pharaoh, whom Milton associates with the pharaoh of Exodus 14, who pursued the Israelites (“sojourners of Goshen,” line 309) into the Red Sea, which God parted for them. His “chivalry” (following) are horsemen from Memphis. 8. The double negatives make a positive: they did perceive both plight and pain.

1504

340

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JOHN

MILTON

Yet to their general’s voice they soon obeyed Innumerable. As when the potent rod Of Amram’s son? in Egypt’s evil day Waved round the coast, up called a pitchy cloud Of locusts, warping® on the eastern wind, That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung

swarming

Like night, and darkened all the land of Nile:

343

So numberless were those bad angels seen Hovering on wing under the cope? of Hell

roof

"Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;

330

Till, as a signal giv’n, th’ uplifted spear Of their great Sultan! waving to direct Their course, in even balance down they light On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain; A multitude, like which the populous north Poured never from her frozen loins, to pass Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons

355

Came like a deluge on the south, and spread Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.’ Forthwith from every squadron and each band The heads and leaders thither haste where stood Their great commander; godlike shapes and forms

360

Excelling human, princely dignities, And powers that erst® in Heaven sat on thrones; Though of their names in heav’nly records now Be no memorial, blotted out and razed°

365

formerly erased

By their rebellion, from the Books of Life. Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve Got them new names, till wand’ring o’er the earth, Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man, By falsities and lies the greatest part Of mankind they corrupted to forsake God their Creator, and th’ invisible

370

375

Glory of him that made them, to transform Oft to the image of a brute, adorned With gay religions® full of pomp and gold, And devils to adore for deities: Then were they known to men by various names, And various idols through the heathen world.

showy rites

Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,’

Roused from the slumber on that fiery couch, At their great emperor’s call, as next in worth

380

Came singly° where he stood on the bare strand, While the promiscuous? crowd stood yet aloof. The chief were those who from the pit of Hell Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix

9. Moses, who drew down a plague of locusts on Egypt (Exodus 10.12—15).

1. A first use of this description of Satan as an Oriental despot. 2. The barbarian invasions of Rome began with

one at a time mixed

crossings of the Rhine (“Rhene”) and Danube (“Danaw”) rivers and spread across Spain, via

Gibraltar, to North Africa. 3. The catalogue of gods here is an epic conven-

tion; Homer catalogues ships; Virgil, warriors.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

1

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MSO

Their seats long after next the seat of God,’ Their altars by his altar, gods adored Among the nations round, and durst abide Jehovah thund ring out of Zion, throned Between the Cherubim;? yea, often placed Within his sanctuary itself their shrines, 390

Abomination; and with curséd things His holy rites, and solemn feasts profaned,

And with their darkness durst affront his light. First Moloch,°® horrid king besmeared with blood Of human sacrifice, and parents’ tears,

Though for the noise of drums and timbrels° loud 395

tambourines

Their children’s cries unheard, that passed through fire To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite’

Worshipped in Rabba and her wat’ry plain, In Argob and in Basan, to the stream 400

Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such Audacious neighborhood, the wisest heart

405

Of Solomon he led by fraud to build His temple right against the temple of God On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence And black Gehenna called, the type of Hell.* Next Chemos,’ th’ obscene dread of Moab’s sons, From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild Of southmost Abarim; in Hesebon

410

And Horanaim, Seon’s realm, beyond The flow’ry dale of Sibma clad with vines, And Elealé to th’ Asphaltic Pool.! Peor? his other name, when he enticed Israel in Sittim on their march from Nile To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.

Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged Even to that hill of scandal,’ by the grove

420

Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by® hate; Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell. With these came they, who from the bord’ring flood Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts

4. The first group of devils come from the Middle East, close neighbors of Jehovah “throned” in his sanctuary in Jerusalem. 5. Golden cherubim adorned opposite ends of the gold cover on the Ark of the Covenant.

6. Moloch was a sun god, sometimes represented as a roaring bull or with a calf’s head, within whose brazen image living children were supposedly burned as sacrifices. 7. The Ammonites lived east of the Jordan River. “Rabba” (next line) is modern Amman, in Jordan; “Argob,” “Basan,” “utmost Arnon” (lines 398—99)

are lands east of the Dead Sea. 8. The rites of Moloch on “that opprobrious hill” (the Mount of Olives), just opposite the Jewish temple, and in the valley of Hinnom so polluted those places that they were turned into

close by

the refuse dump of Jerusalem. Under the name “Tophet” and “Gehenna,” Hinnom became a type of Hell. 9, Chemos, or Chemosh, associated with Moloch in | Kings 11.7, was the god of the Moabites,

whose lands (many drawn from Isaiah 15—16) are mentioned in the following lines. 1. The 2. The Sittim 3. The

Dead Sea. story of Peor seducing the Israelites in is told in Numbers 25. Mount of Olives, where Solomon built

temples for Chemos and Moloch

(J Kings 11.7);

epithets were commonly attached to the names of gods, as in the next line, Moloch “homicide.” Josiah (following line) destroyed pagan idols in Jerusalem and other cities (2 Chronicles 34).

1506

|

JOHN

MILTON

Egypt from Syrian ground,* had general names Of Baalim and Ashtaroth, those male,

These feminine.’ For Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both; so soft 425

And Not Nor Like

uncompounded is their essence pure, tied or manacled with joint or limb, founded on the brittle strength of bones, cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they choose

Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, 430

Can execute their airy purposes,

And works of love or enmity fulfill. For those the race of Israel oft forsook Their Living Strength, and unfrequented left His righteous altar, bowing lowly down To bestial gods; for which their heads as low Bowed down in battle, sunk before the spear Of despicable foes. With these in troop Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians called Astarté, queen of Heav’n, with crescent horns; 440

445

To whose bright image nightly by the moon Sidonian virgins® paid their vows and songs, In Sion also not unsung, where stood Her temple on th’ offensive mountain,’ built By that uxorious king, whose heart though large, Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell To idols foul. Thammuz® came next behind,

450

Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured The Syrian damsels to lament his fate In amorous ditties all a summer’s day, While smooth Adonis’ from his native work Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood

Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale Infected Sion’s daughters with like heat, Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch Ezekiel’ saw, when by the vision led His eye surveyed the dark idolatries Of alienated Judah. Next came one Who mourned in earnest, when the captive ark

Maimed his brute image, head and hands lopped off In his own temple, on the grunsel edge,” Where he fell flat, and shamed his worshippers:

4. Palestine lies between the Euphrates and “the brook Besor” (1 Samuel 30.10). 5. Plural forms, masculine and feminine, respectively, denoting aspects of the sun god Baal and

8. A Syrian god, supposedly killed by a boar in

Aphrodite and god of the solar year. Annual festivals mourned his death and celebrated his revival as signifying the death and rebirth of vegetation. 9. Here, the Lebanese river named for the deity because every spring it turned bloodred from sedimentary mud. 1. The prophet complained that Jewish women were worshipping Thammuz (Ezekiel 8.14). 2. When the Philistines stole the ark of God, they placed it in the temple of their sea god, Dagon, but in the morning the mutilated statue of Dagon was found on the threshhold (“grunsel

Lebanon; his Greek form was Adonis, beloved of

edge”) (1 Samuel 5.1—5).

the moon

goddess Astarte

(called “Astoreth”

in

line 438, below). 6. Sidon and Tyre were the chief cities of Phoe-

nicia. 7. The Mount of Olives again. “That uxorious king” (next line) is Solomon, who “loved many strange women”

(2 Kings

11.1—8).

PARADISE

POST

IB OOK

1

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Or

Dagon his name, sea monster, upward man And downward fish: yet had his temple high Reared in Azotus, dreaded through the coast 465

Of Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon

And Accaron and Gaza’s* frontier bounds. Him followed Rimmon,? whose delightful seat

470

475.

Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. He also against the house of God was bold: A leper once he lost and gained a king, Ahaz his sottish conqueror, whom he drew God's altar to disparage and displace For one of Syrian mode,’ whereon to burn His odious off’rings, and adore the gods Whom he had vanquished. After these appeared A crew who under names of old renown,

aso

4ss_

490

495

Osiris, Isis, Orus® and their train With monstrous shapes and sorceries abused Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek Their wand ring gods disguised in brutish forms Rather than human. Nor did Israel scape Th’ infection when their borrowed gold composed The calf in Oreb:’ and the rebel king Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan, Lik’ning his Maker to the grazed ox,*

Jehovah, who in one night when he passed From Egypt marching, equaled® with one stroke Both her firstborn and all her bleating gods.’ Belial came last,! than whom a spirit more lewd Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love Vice for itself: to him no temple stood Or altar smoked; yet who more oft than he In temples and at altars, when the priest

leveled

Turns atheist, as did Eli’s sons,* who filled With lust and violence the house of God.

In courts and palaces he also reigns And in luxurious cities, where the noise Of riot ascends above their loftiest tow’rs, 500

And injury and outrage: and when night 3. The five chief cities of the Philistines, sites of Dagon’s worship. 4. A Phoenician god whose temple was in Damascus. 5. A Syrian general, Naaman, was cured of leprosy and converted from worship of Rimmon by the waters of the Jordan (2 Kings 5), while King Ahaz, an Israelite monarch who conquered Damascus, was converted there to Rimmon’s worship. 6. The second group of devils includes the Egyptian gods driven from Heaven by the revolt of the giants (Ovid, Metamorphoses 5) and forced to wander in “monstrous” (next line) animal dis-

guises.

7. In the wilderness of Egypt, while Moses was receiving the Law, Aaron made a golden calf,

thought to be an idol of the Egyptian god Apis and made of ornaments brought out of Egypt (Exodus 32). 8. Jeroboam, “the rebel king” who led the ten tribes of Israel in revolt against Solomon's son, Rehoboam; he doubled Aaron’s sin by making two golden calves (1 Kings 12.25—30). 9. Jehovah smote the firstborn of all Egyptian families as well as their gods (Exodus 12.12). 1. Belial was never worshipped as a god; his name means “wickedness,” but its use in phrases like “sons of Belial” encouraged personification. 2. Priests who were termed “sons of Belial” because they seized for themselves offerings made to God and lay with women who assembled at the door of the tarbernacle (1 Samuel 2.12—22).

1508

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JOHN

MILTON

Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown? with insolence and wine.?

505

flushed

Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night In Gibeah, when the hospitable door Exposed a matron to avoid worse rape.* These were the prime in order and in might; The rest were long to tell, though far renowned, Th’ Ionian gods, of Javan’s issue held Gods, yet confessed later than Heav’n and Earth Their boasted parents;> Titan Heav’n’s firstborn With his enormous brood, and birthright seized By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove, His own and Rhea’s son, like measure found;

So Jove usurping reigned:° And Ida known, thence on Of cold Olympus ruled the Their highest heav’n; or on

these first in Crete the snowy top middle air the Delphian cliff,

Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds Of Doric land;’ or who with Saturn old 520

wi tN Ww

Fled over Adria to th’ Hesperian fields, And o’er the Celtic roamed the utmost isles.* All these and more came flocking; but with looks Downcast and damp,’ yet such wherein appeared Obscure some glimpse ofjoy, to have found their chief Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost

depressed, dazed

In loss itself; which on his count’nance cast Like doubtful hue:? but he his wonted?® pride

accustomed

Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears. Then straight? commands that at the warlike sound

immediately

Of trumpets loud and clarions be upreared

His mighty standard; that proud honor claimed Azazel! as his right, a Cherub tall: Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled Th’ imperial ensign, which full high advanced Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind With gems and golden luster rich emblazed, Seraphic arms and trophies:? all the while

3. This passage, with its present-tense verbs, invites application to current examples—at court and in Restoration London. 4, Lot begged the Sodomites to rape his daugh-

7. Zeus and the other Olympian gods had their seat on Mount Olympus, in “middle air”; they were worshipped in Delphi, Dodona, and

ters rather than his (male) angel guests (Genesis

throughout Greece (“Doric lands”). 8. Saturn, after his downfall, fled over “Adria”

19); in Gibeah a Levite avoided “worse” (homo-

(the Adriatic

sexual) rape by surrendering his concubine to riotous “sons of Belial” (Judges 19.21—30). 5. The Ionian Greeks (“Javan’s issue,” i.e., of the

line of Javan, grandson of Noah) regarded the Titans

as

gods;

their supposed

parents

were

Heaven (Uranus) and Earth (Gaia).

6. The Titan

Cronos,

or Saturn,

deposed

his

father, married his sister Rhea, and ruled until he was deposed by his son, Zeus (Jove), who had

been reared in secret on Mount Ida in Crete.

Sea)

to the

“Hesperian

fields”

(Italy), crossed the “Celtic” fields of France, and thence to Britain, the “utmost isles.” 9. Satan’s face reflected the same mixed emotions.

1. Traditionally, one of the four standard-bearers in Satan’s army. “Clarions” (line 532): small, shrill trumpets.

2. Their flags bear the heraldic arms of the various orders of angels and memorials of their battles.

PARADISE:

OSs,

Sonorous metal° blowing martial sounds: At which the universal host upsent

545

BOOK

1

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HOD

trumpets

A shout that tore Hell’s concave,° and beyond

vault

Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.’ Allin a moment through the gloom were seen Ten thousand banners rise into the air With orient® colors waving: with them rose A forest huge of spears: and thronging helms Appeared, and serried® shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable: anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian* mood

lustrous

pushed close together

Of flutes and soft recorders; such as raised

To highth of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle, and instead of rage 555

560

Deliberate valor breathed, firm and unmoved With dread of death to flight or foul retreat, Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage®

Advanced in view they stand, a horrid® front uw a wa

570

Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise Of warriors old with ordered spear and shield, Awaiting what command their mighty chief Had to impose. He through the arméd files Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse® The whole battalion views, their order due, Their visages and stature as of gods, Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and hard’ning in his strength Glories: for never since created man” Met such embodied force, as named?® with these

vi

XI vi

bristling with spears

across

composed

Could merit more than that small infantry Warred on by cranes:° though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with th’ heroic race were joined That fought at Thebes and Ilium,’ on each side Mixed with auxiliar® gods; and what resounds

580

assuage

With solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chase Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they Breathing united force with fixed thought Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed Their painful steps o’er the burnt soil; and now

allied

In fable or romance of Uther’s son Begirt with British and Armoric knights; And all who since, baptized or infidel Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond, 3. In Paradise

Lost 2.894—909,

959-70

Chaos

and Night rule the region of unformed matter between Heaven and earth. 4, Severe, martial music used by the Spartans marching to battle. “Phalanx”: battle formation. 5. Le., since the creation of man.

:

6. Pygmies (little people, with a pun, in “infantry” on “infants”) had periodic fights with the

cranes, in Pliny’s account. Compared with Satan’s forces, all other armies are puny. 7. In Greek mythology, the Giants fought the gods at Phlegra in Macedonia; in Roman myth, it was at Phlegra in Italy. Satan’s forces surpass them, even if joined with the Seven who fought against Thebes and the whole Greek host that besieged Troy (“Ilium”).

1510

Vv ie.)Wi)

390

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JOHN

MILTON

Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore When Charlemagne with all his peerage fell By Fontarabia.* Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed® Their dread commander: he above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent Stood like a tow’r; his form had yet not lost All her? original brightness, nor appeared Less than Archangel ruined, and th’ excess Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-ris’n Looks through the horizontal® misty air

obeyed

on the horizon

Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon

In dim eclipse disastrous® twilight sheds

ill-starred

On half the nations, and with fear of change

600

Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shone Above them all th’ Archangel: but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched,° and care

furrowed

Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows

Of dauntless courage, and considerate® pride Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast 605

Signs of remorse

and passion®

to behold

conscious, deliberate compassion, pain

The fellows of his crime, the followers rather (Far other once beheld in bliss) condemned

610

Forever now to have their lot in pain, Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced® Of Heav’n, and from eternal splendors flung For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood, Their glory withered: as when Heaven’s fire Hath scathed?® the forest oaks, or mountain pines,

61s

625

630

damaged

With singéd top their stately growth though bare Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half enclose him round With all his peers: attention held them mute. Thrice he essayed,° and thrice, in spite of scorn,

620

deprived

Tears such as angels weep burst forth: at last Words interwove with sighs found out their way. “O myriads of immortal Spirits, O Powers Matchless, but with th’ Almighty, and that strife Was not inglorious, though th’ event® was dire, As this place testifies, and this dire change Hateful to utter: but what power of mind Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth Of knowledge past or present, could have feared, How such united force of gods, how such As stood like these, could ever know repulse?

attempted

outcome

For who can yet believe, though after loss, 8. Satan’s forces also surpass the “British and Armoric” (from Brittany) knights who fought with King Arthur (“Uther’s son”) and all the romance knights who fought at the famous named sites in the following lines. Roncesvalles, near Fontara-

bia, was the place where Charlemagne’s “peerage,” including his best knight, Roland, were defeated in battle (though not Charlemagne himself). 9. Forma in Latin is feminine.

PARADISE

SEO Si,

That all these puissant® legions, whose exile Hath emptied Heav’n, shall fail to reascend Self-raised, and repossess their native seat?

BOOK

1

|

foul

potent, powerful

For me, be witness all the host of Heav’n,

If counsels different,° or danger shunned By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns Monarch in Heav’n, till then as one secure Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, 640

650

660

contradictory

Consent or custom, and his regal state

Put forth at full, but still® his strength concealed, Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. Henceforth his might we know, and know our own So as not either to provoke, or dread New war, provoked; our better part remains To work in close design, by fraud or guile What force effected not: that he no less At length from us may find, who overcomes By force, hath overcome but half his foe. Space may produce new worlds; whereof so rife® There went a fame® in Heav’n that he ere long Intended to create, and therein plant A generation, whom his choice regard Should favor equal to the sons of Heaven: Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps Our first eruption,° thither or elsewhere: For this infernal pit shall never hold Celestial Spirits in bondage, not th’ abyss Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts Full counsel must mature: peace is despaired,

always

common rumor

breaking out

For who can think submission? War then, war

665

675

Open or understood® must be resolved.” He spake: and to confirm his words, out flew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze Far round illumined Hell: highly they raged Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clashed on their sounding shields the din of war,' Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heav’n. There stood a hill not far whose grisly top Belched fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire Shone with a glossy scurf,? undoubted sign That in his womb was hid metallic ore, The work of sulphur.” Thither winged with speed A numerous brigade hastened. As when bands Of pioneers® with spade and pickax armed

covert

crust

military engineers

Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, Or cast a rampart. Mammon? led them on,

2. Sulfur and mercury were considered the basic

to be personified and associated with the god of wealth, Plutus, and so with Pluto, god of the underworld. Cf. Matthew 6.24: “Ye cannot serve

substances of all metals.

God and mammon.”

1. Like

Roman

legionnaires,

the fallen

angels

applaud by beating swords on shields. 3. “Mammon,” an abstract word for riches, came

1512

680

685

690

|

JOHN

MILTON

Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell From Heav’n, for evn in Heav’n his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of Heav’n’s pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed In vision beatific: by him first Men also, and by his suggestion taught, Ransacked the center, and with impious hands Rifled the bowels of their mother earth For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew Opened into the hill a spacious wound And digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire®

wonder

That riches grow in Hell; that soil may best

Deserve the precious bane.° And here let those Who boast in mortal things, and wond’ring tell 695

700

poison

Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,* Learn how their greatest monuments of fame,

And strength and art are easily outdone By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour What in an age they with incessant toil And hands innumerable scarce perform. Nigh on the plain in many cells prepared, That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude

705

710

With wondrous art founded? the massy ore, Severing® each kind, and scummed the bullion dross:° A third as soon had formed within the ground A various mold, and from the boiling cells By strange conveyance filled each hollow nook, As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes. Anon out of the earth a fabric huge

melted separating / boiling dregs

Rose like an exhalation, with the sound

—I wi

Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple,’ where pilasters® round Were set, and Doric pillars® overlaid With golden architrave; nor did there want Cornice or frieze, with bossy° sculptures grav’n; The roof was fretted® gold. Not Babylon, Nor great Alcairo such magnificence Equaled in all their glories, to enshrine Belus or Serapis’ their gods, or seat Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury. Th’ ascending pile Stood fixed? her stately height, and straight® the doors Opening their brazen folds discover® wide

columns set in a wall

embossed richly ornamented

complete / at once reveal

4. The Tower of Babel and the pyramids of Egypt. 5. After melting the gold with fire from the lake and pouring it into molds, the devils cause their

with elaborate ornamentation, suggesting, perhaps, St. Peter’s in Rome. 7. At Babylon, in Assyria, there were temples

building to rise as by magic, to the sounds of marvelous music.

ancient Memphis), in Egypt, they were to Osiris

6. Doric pillars are severe and plain. The devils’ palace combines classical architectural features

to “Belus”

(“Serapis”),

or Baal; at Alcairo

(modern

Cairo,

PARADISE

“ItN wir

“I Ww wi)

LOST,

BOOK

1

|

1513

Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth And level pavement: from the archéd roof Pendent by subtle magic many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets® fed With naphtha and asphaltus yielded light As from a sky. The hasty multitude Admiring entered, and the work some praise And some the architect: his hand was known In Heav’n by many a towered structure high, Where sceptered angels held their residence, And sat as princes, whom the Supreme King Exalted to such power, and gave to rule,

740

I viSo

Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright. Nor was his name unheard or unadored In ancient Greece and in Ausonian land Men called him Mulciber? and how he fell From Heav’n, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer oer the crystal battlements: from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer’s day; and with the setting sun Dropped from the zenith like a falling star, On Lemnos th’ Aégean isle: thus they relate, Erring; for he with this rebellious rout Fell long before; nor aught availed him now To have built in Heav’n high tow’rs; nor did he scape By all his engines, but was headlong sent With his industrious crew to build in Hell. Meanwhile the wingéd heralds by command Of sov’reign power, with awful ceremony And trumpet’s sound throughout the host proclaim A solemn council forthwith to be held At Pandemoniun,,! the high capitol Of Satan and his peers:° their summons called From every band and squared regiment By place® or choice® the worthiest; they anon With hundreds and with thousands trooping came Attended: all access was thronged, the gates And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall (Though like a covered field, where champions bold

nobles rank / election

Wont ride in armed, and at the soldan’s°® chair ~ID> wi

sultan’s

Defied the best of paynim® chivalry To mortal combat or career with lance)

pagan

Thick swarmed, both on the ground and in the air,

Brushed with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees In springtime, when the sun with Taurus rides, “I I S

Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers 8. Basketlike lamps, hung from the ceiling.

1. “Pandemonium”

9. Hephaestus, or Vulcan, was sometimes known

literally

%

.

in “Ausonian land” (Italy) as “Mulciber.” The story of Jove’s tossing him out of Heaven (see following lines) is told in Book 1 of the Iliad.

a

“

“all demons,”

(a Miltonic coinage) means ”

wa . . an inversion of “pantheon,

' yy “all gods. 2. The sun is in the zodiacal sign of Taurus from about April 19 to May 20.

”

1514

|

JOHN

MILTON

Fly to and fro, or on the smoothéd plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubbed with balm, expatiate and confer*

780

Their state affairs. So thick the aery crowd Swarmed and were straitened; till the signal giv’n, Behold a wonder! They but now who seemed In bigness to surpass Earth’s giant sons Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room Throng numberless, like that Pygmean race Beyond the Indian mount,’ or fairy elves, Whose midnight revels, by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress,° and nearer to the earth

Wheels her pale course: they on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund® music charm his ear; At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms 790

witness

merry

Reduced their shapes immense, and were at large,

Though without number still amidst the hall Of that infernal court. But far within And in their own dimensions like themselves The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim In close recess and secret conclave sat,

A thousand demigods on golden seats, Frequent and full.° After short silence then And summons read, the great consult’ began.

Book 2 The Argument The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven: some advise it, others dissuade: a third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature equal or not much inferior to themselves, about this time to be created: their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search; Satan their

chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honored and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to hell gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them, by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between hell and heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought. 3. Spread out and discuss. Bee similes were common in epic from Homer on; also, the bees’ (royalist) society was often cited in political argument. The simile prepares for the sudden contraction of

4. The pygmies were supposed to live beyond the Himalayas. 5. The belated peasant’s. 6. Crowded together, and in full complement.

the devils,

7. Consultation, often secret and seditious.

who can shrink or dilate at will.

PARA DIISIE, LOST.

vi

10

25

30

35

High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,! Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Show's on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit raised To that bad eminence; and from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue Vain war with Heav’n, and by success® untaught His proud imaginations® thus displayed. “Powers and Dominions,’ deities of Heaven, For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigor, though oppressed and fall’n, I give not Heav’n for lost. From this descent Celestial Virtues rising, will appear More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heav’n Did first create your leader, next, free choice, With what besides, in counsel or in fight, Hath been achieved of merit, yet this loss Thus far at least recovered, hath much more Established in a safe unenvied throne Yielded with full consent. The happier state In Heav’n, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer’s aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure will claim in Hell Precédence, none, whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then

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the outcome schemes

To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in Heav’n, we now return

To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper than prosperity 40

45

Could have assured us;* and by what best way, Whether of open war or covert guile,’ We now debate; who can advise, may speak.” He ceased, and next him Moloch, sceptered king Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest Spirit That fought in Heav’n; now fiercer by despair: His trust was with th’ Eternal to be deemed Equal in strength, and rather than be less 1. India. “Ormus”: an island in the Persian Gulf, modern Hormuz, famous for pearls. 2. Angelic orders. 3. Note the play on “surer,” “prosper,” “prosperity,” “assured,” a favorite device of Milton’s.

4. A typical epic convention (in Homer, Virgil, Tasso, and elsewhere) involved councils debating war or peace, with spokesmen on each side. Satan offers only the option of war, open or covert.

1516

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JOHN

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Cared not to be at all; with that care lost Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse

55.

60

65

~I Wn

80

85

He recked® not, and these words thereafter spake. “My sentence? is for open war: of wiles, More unexpért,° I boast not: them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heav’n’s fugitives, and for their dwelling place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay? No, let us rather choose Armed with Hell flames and fury all at once O’er Heav’n’s high tow’rs to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid® arms Against the Torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine® he shall hear Infernal thunder, and for lightning see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels; and his throne itself Mixed with Tartarean? sulfur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench® Of that forgetful? lake benumb not still, That in our proper® motion we ascend

cared judgment less experienced

bristling, horrifying the thunderbolt

large draught causing oblivion natural to us

Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting,° and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? Th’ ascent is easy then; Th’ event? is feared; should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction: if there be in Hell Fear to be worse destroyed: what can be worse

outcome

Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned

90

95

In this abhorréd deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise® us without hope of end The vassals’ of his anger, when the scourge Inexorably, and the torturing hour Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus We should be quite abolished and expire. What fear we then? What°® doubt we to incense

vex, afflict

why

His utmost ire? which to the height enraged, Will either quite consume us, and reduce 5. Tartarus is a classical name for hell. 6. With the Latin sense of stamping on; also, triumphantly scorning.

if Servants, but perhaps also vessels. See Romans 9.2 2: “vessels of wrath fitted to destruction.”

PARADISE

100

LOST,

To nothing this essential,° happier far Than miserable to have eternal being: Or if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing;* and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his Heav’n, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal? throne: Which if not victory is yet revenge.” He ended frowning, and his look, denounced®

110

115

120

Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous To less than gods. On th’ other side up rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane;° A fairer person lost not Heav’n; he seemed For dignity composed and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason,' to perplex and dash°

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essence

portended

civil, polite

confuse

Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds

Timorous and slothful: yet he pleased the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began. “T should be much for open war, O Peers, As not behind in hate; if what was urged Main reason to persuade immediate war, Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast

Ominous conjecture on the whole success: When he who most excels in fact® of arms, 125

130

feat

In what he counsels and in what excels Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. First, what revenge? The tow’rs of Heav’n are filled With arméd watch, that render all access

Impregnable; oft on the bordering deep Encamp their legions, or with 6bscure wing Scout far and wide into the realm of Night, Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound

140

Heav’'n’s purest light, yet our great enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and th’ ethereal mold? Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope Is flat despair: we must exasperate 8. I.e., we cannot be worse off than we are now,

and still live. 9, Established by Fate; also, deadly. 1. The Sophists, mercenary teachers of rhetoric in ancient Greece, were denounced by Plato for making “the worse appear / The better reason.”

“His tongue / Dropped manna’: his honeyed words seemed like the manna supplied to the Israelites in

the desert. 2. Heavenly substance, derived from “ether,” the

fifth and purest element, thought to be incorruptible.

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Th’ almighty victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us, that must be our cure, To be no more; sad cure; for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being,

Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows,

Let this be good, whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever? How he can 155

Is doubtful; that he never will is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,

Belike® through impotence, or unaware,

perhaps

To give his enemies their wish, and end

160

Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless? ‘Wherefore cease we then?’ Say they who counsel war, ‘We are decreed, Reserved and destined to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse?’ Is this then worst,

165

170

180

Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What when we fled amain,° pursued and strook® With Heav’n’s afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? This Hell then seemed A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay Chained on the burning lake? That sure was worse. What if the breath that kindled those grim fires Awaked should blow them into sevenfold rage And plunge us in the flames? Or from above Should intermitted® vengeance arm again His red right hand to plague us? What if all Her® stores were opened, and this firmament°® Of Hell should spout her cataracts® of fire, Impendent? horrors, threat’ning hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we perhaps Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurled Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey

headlong / struck

suspended

Hell's / sky cascades

Of racking whirlwinds, or forever sunk

Under yon boiling ocean, wrapped in chains; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved, Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse. War therefore, open or concealed, alike

My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile* With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye 190

Views all things at one view? He from Heav’n’s high All these our motions? vain, sees and derides;

Not more almighty to resist our might 3. In the Latin sense, hanging down, threatening.

proposals

4. The verb “accomplish” or “achieve” is understood.

PARADISE

195

205

210

EOST,

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Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav’n Thus trampled, thus expelled to suffer here Chains and these torments? Better these than worse By my advice; since fate inevitable Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, The victor’s will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust That so ordains: this was at first resolved, If we were wise, against so great a foe Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold And vent’rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear What yet they know must follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, The sentence of their conqueror: This is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our Supreme Foe in time may much remit His anger, and perhaps thus far removed Not mind us not offending, satisfied With what is punished; whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. Our purer essence then will overcome Their noxious vapor, or inured® not feel,

220

BiOiOK2

accustomed

Or changed at length, and to the place conformed In temper and in nature, will receive Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain; This horror will grow mild, this darkness light, Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,” If we procure not to ourselves more woe.” Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb,

Counseled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth, Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake. “Either to disenthrone the King of Heav’n We war, if war be best, or to regain Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then May hope when everlasting Fate shall yield

235

To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife: The former vain to hope argues® as vain The latter: for what place can be for us Within Heav’n’s bound, unless Heav’n’s Lord supreme

240

We overpower? Suppose he should relent And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 5. Le., from the point of view of happiness, the devils are in an ill state, but it could be worse.

proves

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Forced hallelujahs; while he lordly sits Our envied Sov’reign, and his altar breathes Ambrosial°® odors and ambrosial flowers, Our servile offerings. This must be our task

fragrant, immortal

In Heav’n, this our delight; how wearisome

Eternity so spent in worship paid To whom we hate. Let us not then pursue By force impossible, by leave obtained Unacceptable, though in Heav’n, our state Of splendid vassalage,° but rather seek

ie)wi wit

260

iS)oO wi

servitude

Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring

Hard liberty before the easy yoke Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear Then most conspicuous, when great things of small, Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse We can create, and in what place soe’er Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain Through labor and endurance. This deep world Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst Thick clouds and dark doth Heav’n’s all-ruling Sire Choose to reside, his glory unobscured, And with the majesty of darkness round Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar

Must’ring their rage, and Heav’n resembles Hell? As he our darkness, cannot we his light 270

Imitate when we please? This desert soil Wants? not her hidden luster, gems and gold;

lacks

Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise

i) ~I vi

Magnificence; and what can Heav’n show more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper® changed

constitution

Into their temper; which must needs remove The sensible of pain.® All things invite To peaceful counsels, and the settled state 280

Of order, how in safety best we may Compose? our present evils, with regard Of what we are and where, dismissing quite All thoughts of war: ye have what I advise.”

come to terms with

He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled

Th’ assembly, as when hollow rocks retain The sound of blust’ring winds, which all night long Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull

290

Seafaring men o’erwatched,° whose bark by chance Or pinnace® anchors in a craggy bay After the tempest: such applause was heard As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased, Advising peace: for such another field® 6. Pain felt by the senses,

worn out from watching boat

battlefield

BATA DIDS/Es OS 1s

300

305

310

OO}

Ke

They dreaded worse than Hell: so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michaél’ Wrought still within them; and no less desire To found this nether empire, which might rise By policy,° and long process of time, In emulation opposite to Heav’n. Which then Beélzebub perceived, than whom, Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed A pillar of state; deep on his front® engraven Deliberation sat and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood With Atlantean® shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer’s noontide air, while thus he spake. “Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of Heav’n

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W521

statecraft

brow

Ethereal Virtues; or these titles’? now

Must we renounce, and changing style® be called Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote

title

Inclines, here to continue, and build up here

320

A growing empire. Doubtless! while we dream, And know not that the King of Heav’n hath doomed This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt From Heav’n’s high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, Under th’ inevitable curb, reserved His captive multitude: for he, be sure,

In height or depth, still first and last will reign Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part By our revolt, but over Hell extend His empire, and with iron scepter rule Us here, as with his golden those in Heav’n.

What? sit we then projecting peace and war?

why

War hath determined us,! and foiled with loss

Irreparable; terms of peace yet none Vouchsafed? or sought; for what peace will be giv’n To us enslaved, but custody severe, And stripes, and arbitrary punishment

granted

Inflicted? And what peace can we return,

But, to our power,” hostility and hate, Untamed reluctance,’ and revenge though slow,

340

resistance

Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice In doing what we most in suffering feel? 7. The warrior angel, chief of the angelic armies. 8. Worthy of Atlas, the Titan who as a punish-

ment for rebellion was condemned to hold up the heavens on his shoulders.

9. The official titles of angelic orders. 1. I.e., war has decided the question for us, but

also limited us. 2. Le., to the best of our power.

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Nor will occasion want,° nor shall we need

345

With dangerous expedition to invade Heav’n, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, Or ambush from the deep. What if we find Some easier enterprise? There is a place (If ancient and prophetic fame° in Heav’n Err not) another world, the happy seat

be lacking

rumor

Of some new race called Man, about this time

To be created like to us, though less In power and excellence, but favored more Of him who rules above; so was his will

Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath, That shook Heav’n’s whole circumference, confirmed.

Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn 355

What creatures there inhabit, of what mold, Or substance, how endued,° and what their power,

360

And where their weakness, how attempted? best, By force or subtlety. Though Heav’n be shut, And Heav’n’s high arbitrator sit secure In his own strength, this place may lie exposed, The utmost border of his kingdom, left To their defense who hold it:* here perhaps Some advantageous act may be achieved By sudden onset, either with hellfire To waste® his whole creation, or possess

endowed

attacked, tempted

lay waste

All as our own, and drive as we were driven,

The puny habitants, or if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God 370

380

May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish his own works.* This would surpass Common revenge, and interrupt his joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In his disturbance; when his darling sons Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss, Faded so soon. Advise? if this be worth Attempting, or to sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires.” Thus Beélzebub

originator, parent consider

Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence,

But from the author of all ill could spring So deep a malice, to confound? the race Of mankind in one root,® and earth with Hell

To mingle and involve, done all to spite The great Creator? But their spite still serves His glory to augment. The bold design Pleased highly those infernal States,° and joy Sparkled in all their eyes; with full assent They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews. 3. To be defended by the occupants, 4. Cf. Genesis 6.7: “And the Lord said, ‘I will destroy man [and all other creatures]; for it repen-

ruin

nobles

teth me that I have made them.’” 5. Adam, the first man,is the “root” of the human race.

PARADISE

390

LOST,

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“Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, Synod of gods, and like to what ye are, Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate, Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view

BOS)

Of those bright confines, whence with neighboring arms And opportune excursion we may chance Reenter Heav’n; or else in some mild zone

400

Dwell not unvisited of Heav’n’'s fair light Secure, and at the bright’ning orient® beam Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious air,

lustrous

To heal the scar of these corrosive fires Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we send In search of this new world, whom shall we find Sufficient? Who shall tempt® with wand'ring feet 405

410

415

420

425

430

435

attempt, venture

The dark unbottomed infinite abyss And through the palpable obscure® find out His uncouth? way, or spread his aery flight Upborne with indefatigable wings Over the vast abrupt,’ ere he arrive The happy isle? What strength, what art can then Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe Through the strict senteries° and stations thick Of angels watching round? Here he had need All circumspection, and we now no less Choice? in our suffrage; for on whom we send,

unknown

sentries

discrimination

The weight of all and our last hope relies.” This said, he sat; and expectation held His look suspense,* awaiting who appeared To second, or oppose, or undertake The perilous attempt: but all sat mute, Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each In other’s count’nance read his own dismay Astonished. None among the choice and prime Of those Heav’n-warring champions could be found So hardy as to proffer or accept Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised Above his fellows, with monarchal pride Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake. “O progeny of Heav’n, empyreal Thrones, With reason hath deep silence and demur® Seized us, though undismayed: long is the way And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light; Our prison strong, this huge convex of fire, Outrageous to devour, immures us round Ninefold,? and gates of burning adamant Barred over us prohibit all egress. 6. Darkness so thick it can be felt (cf. Exodus 10.21). 7. Chaos, a striking example of sound imitating

sense.

hesitation

8. l.e., he sat waiting in suspense. 9. Hell’s fiery walls and gates have nine thicknesses (see lines 645ff.). “Adamant”

a fabulously hard metal.

(following):

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These passed, if any pass, the void profound Of unessential Night receives him next Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf.! If thence he scape into whatever world, Or unknown region, what remains him less° Than unknown dangers and as hard escape?

awaits him except

But I should ill become this throne, O Peers,

450

And this imperial sov reignty, adorned With splendor, armed with power, if aught proposed And judged of public moment,° in the shape Of difficulty or danger could deter Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume These royalties, and not refuse to reign, Refusing® to accept as great a share

importance

ifIrefuse

Of hazard as of honor, due alike

To him who reigns, and so much to him due 455

Of hazard more, as he above the rest

High honored sits? Go therefore mighty Powers, Terror of Heav’n, though fall’n; intend° at home, While here shall be our home, what best may ease The present misery, and render Hell 460

465

More tolerable; if there be cure or charm

To respite or deceive, or slack the pain Of this ill mansion: intermit no watch Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad Through all the coasts° of dark destruction seek Deliverance for us all: this enterprise None shall partake with me.” Thus saying rose The monarch, and prevented? all reply, Prudent, lest from his resolution raised°

470

consider

Others among the chief might offer now (Certain to be refused) what erst°® they feared; And so refused might in opinion stand His rivals, winning cheap the high repute Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they Dreaded not more th’ adventure than his voice

districts forestalled roused

formerly

Forbidding; and at once with him they rose;

Their rising all at once was as the sound Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend With awful® reverence prone; and as a god 480

485

Extol him equal to the Highest in Heav’n: Nor failed they to express how much they praised, That for the general safety he despised His own: for neither do the Spirits damned Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast Their specious® deeds on earth, which glory excites, Or close® ambition varnished o'er with zeal. Thus they their doubtful consultations dark

full of awe

pretending to worth secret

1. Chaos is a womb in which all potential forms fragment (see lines 895ff.) “Unessential” (line 439):

i.e., having no real essence.

PARAIDIS'E:

490

LOsm,

Ended rejoicing in their matchless chief: As when from mountaintops the dusky clouds Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o’erspread Heav'n’s cheerful face, the louring element°®

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threatening sky

Scowls o'er the darkened landscape snow, or show’;

If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 495

500

Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. O shame to men! Devil with devil damned Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational, though under hope Of heavenly grace: and God proclaiming peace, Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife Among themselves, and levy cruel wars,

Wasting the earth, each other to destroy: As if (which might induce us to accord) 505

Man had not hellish foes enow® besides, That day and night for his destruction wait. The Stygian® council thus dissolved; and forth In order came the grand infernal peers: Midst came their mighty paramount,° and seemed

enough Styx-like, hellish supreme

ruler

Alone th’ antagonist of Heav’n, nor less

520

Than Hell’s dread emperor with pomp supreme, And godlike imitated state; him round A globe?® of fiery Seraphim enclosed With bright emblazonry and horrent? arms. Then of their session ended they bid cry With trumpet’s regal sound the great result: Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy? By herald’s voice explained; the hollow abyss Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell With deaf’ning shout, returned them loud acclaim.

band, circle

Thence more at ease their minds and somewhat raised

By false presumptuous hope, the ranged° powers Disband, and wand’ring, each his several way

arrayed in ranks

Pursues, as inclination or sad choice

Leads him perplexed, where he may likeliest find Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain

The irksome hours, till his great chief return. Part on the plain, or in the air sublime?® Upon the wing, or in swift race contend, As at th’ Olympian games or Pythian fields;* Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal” With rapid wheels, or fronted® brigades form. As when to warn proud cities war appears Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush 2. Bristling. “Emblazonry”: decorated shields. 3, Trumpets (made of the goldlike alloy brass). 4. The Olympic games were held at Olympia, the Pythian games at Delphi. Games celebrating

aloft

confronting

a (usually dead) hero are an epic convention. 5. To drive a chariot as close as possible around it. a column without hitting

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540

545

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To battle in the clouds,° before each van®

Prick°® forth the aery knights, and couch their spears Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms From either end of Heav’n the welkin® burns. Others with vast Typhoean’ rage more fell® Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar. As when Alcides from Oechalia crowned With conquest, felt th’ envenomed robe, and tore Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw

vanguard spur

sky fierce

Into th’ Euboic sea.* Others more mild,

Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of battle; and complain that fate Free virtue should enthrall to force or chance. Their song was partial,° but the harmony (What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?) Suspended? Hell, and took with ravishment va wa wi

560

prejudiced held in suspense

The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet (For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense) Others apart sat on a hill retired, In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,

And found no end, in wand’ring mazes lost. Of good and evil much they argued then, Of happiness and final misery, Passion and apathy,’ and glory and shame, Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy: Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm Pain for a while or anguish, and excite Fallacious hope, or arm th’ obduréd?® breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel. Another part in squadrons and gross° bands, On bold adventure to discover wide That dismal world, if any clime perhaps Might yield them easier habitation, bend Four ways their flying march, along the banks Of four infernal rivers that disgorge Into the burning lake their baleful streams:! Abhorréd Styx the flood of deadly hate, Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep; Cocytus, named of lamentation loud 6. The appearance of warfare in the skies, reported before several notable battles, portends trouble on earth. 7. Like that of Typhon, the hundred-headed Titan (see 1.199).

8. Wearing a poisoned robe given him in a deception, Hercules (“Alcides”) in his dying agonies threw his beloved companion Lichas, along with a good part of Mount Oeta, into the Euboean Sea,

hardened solid, dense

near Thermopylae. 9. The Stoic goal of freedom from passion. 1. These four rivers are traditional in hellish geography. Milton distinguishes them by the original meanings of their Greek names: Styx means “hateful,” Acheron “woeful,” etc. Lethe is “far off” and quite different from the others, oblivion

being a desired state in Hell.

PARADISE 580

385

LOST,

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1527

Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe the river of oblivion rolls Her wat’ry labyrinth, whereof who drinks, Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. Beyond this flood a frozen continent Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land

300

Thaws not, but gathers heap,? and ruin seems Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice, A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog? Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,

vi \o wn

600

Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air Burns frore,° and cold performs th’ effect of fire. Thither by harpy-footed* Furies haled,° At certain revolutions? all the damned Are brought: and feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, From beds of raging fire to starve® in ice

frozen driven recurring times

make numb

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine Immovable, infixed, and frozen round, Periods of time; thence hurried back to fire.

605

They ferry over this Lethean sound Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, All in one moment, and so near the brink;

610

But fate withstands, and to oppose th’ attempt Medusa’ with Gorgonian terror guards The ford, and of itself the water flies

All taste of living wight,° as once it fled The lip of Tantalus.° Thus roving on 61s

creature

In cénfused march forlorn, th’ advent’rous bands

With shudd’ring horror pale, and eyes aghast Viewed first their lamentable lot, and found

620

No rest: through many a dark and dreary vale They passed, and many a region dolorous, O’er many a frozen, many a fiery alp,°

volcano

Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death,

A universe of death, which God by curse Created evil, for evil only good, Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds,

625

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, 2. Ina heap, resembling the ruin ofan old building (“ancient pile,” next line). 3. Lake Serbonis, once famous for its quicksands, lies near the city of Damietta (“Damiata,” next line), just east of the Nile.

4. Taloned.

In Greek mythology the Harpies

(monsters with women’s faces) carried off indi-

viduals to the Furies, who avenged crimes. 5. One of the three Gorgons, women with snaky hair, scaly bodies, and boar’s tusks, the sight of

whose faces changed men to stone. 6. Tantalus, afflicted with a raging thirst, stood in the middle of a lake, the water of which always receded when he tried to drink (hence, “tantalize”).

1528

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JOHN

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Abominable, inutterable, and worse

Than fables yet have feigned, or fear conceived, Gorgons and Hydras, and Chimeras’ dire. Meanwhile the Adversary® of God and man, 630

635

Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design,

Puts on swift wings,° and towards the gates of Hell Explores his solitary flight; sometimes He scours the right-hand coast, sometimes the left, Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars Up to the fiery concave® tow’ring high. As when far off at sea a fleet descried Hangs on the clouds, by equinoctial® winds Close sailing from Bengala,° or the isles

flies swiftly

vault

from the equator Bengal

Of Ternate and Tidore,’ whence merchants bring 640

645

Their spicy drugs: they on the trading flood Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape Ply stemming nightly toward the pole:' so seemed Far off the flying Fiend. At last appear Hell bounds high reaching to the horrid roof, And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass, Three iron, three of adamantine rock,

Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire, Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat 650

On either side a formidable shape; The one seemed woman to the waist, and fair,

But ended foul in many a scaly fold Voluminous and vast, a serpent armed With mortal sting: about her middle round A cry° of hellhounds never ceasing barked With wide Cerberean* mouths full loud, and rung A hideous peal: yet, when they list,° would creep,

pack wish

If aught disturbed their noise, into her womb,

660

And kennel there, yet there still barked and howled, Within unseen. Far less abhorred than these Vexed Scylla* bathing in the sea that parts Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore: Nor uglier follow the night-hag,* when called In secret, riding through the air she comes Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance

665

With Lapland witches, while the laboring? moon Eclipses at their charms.’ The other shape, 7. The Hydra was a serpent whose multiple heads grew back when severed; the Chimera was a fire-breathing creature, part lion, part dragon, part goat.

8. Satan in Hebrew means “adversary.”

9. Two of the Moluccas, or Spice Islands, modern Indonesia. 1. The South Pole. “Ethiopian”: the Indian Ocean.

“The Cape” is the Cape of Good Hope. 2. The allegorical figures of Sin and Death are founded on James 1.15: “Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.” But the incestuous relations of Sin and Death are Milton’s own

troubled magic

invention. Physically, Sin is modeled on Virgil’s or Ovid’s Seylla, with some touches adopted from Spenser's Error. Death is a traditional figure, vague and vast. 3. Like Cerberus, the multiheaded hound of Hell. 4. Circe, out of jealousy, threw poison into the water where Scylla bathed, in the straits between

Calabria and Sicily (“Trinacria,” next line); the poison caused Scylla to develop a ring of barking, snapping dogs around her waist. 5. Hecate

(three

syllables),

goddess

of sorcery.

She attends orgies of witches in Lapland (line 665, famous for witchcraft), drawn by the blood of babies sacrificed for the occasion.

PARADISE

EOSi;

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[sy 228)

If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb, Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, 670

675

For each seemed either; black it stood as night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand, and from his seat The monster moving onward came as fast With horrid strides. Hell trembled as he strode. Th’ undaunted Fiend what this might be admired,°

wondered

Admired, not feared; God and his Son except, 680

Created thing naught valued he nor shunned; And with disdainful look thus first began. “Whence and what art thou, execrable shape,

685

690

That dar’st, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated front® athwart my way To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass, That be assured, without leave asked of thee: Retire, or taste® thy folly, and learn by proof, Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heav’n.” To whom the goblin full of wrath replied: “Art thou that traitor angel, art thou he, Who first broke peace in Heav’n and faith, till then Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms Drew after him the third part of Heav’n’s sons Conjured?® against the Highest, for which both thou

misshapen face

experience

sworn together

And they outcast from God, are here condemned

To waste eternal days in woe and pain? And reckon’st thou thyself with Spirits of Heav’n, Hell-doomed, and breath’st defiance here and scorn,

700

Where I reign king, and to enrage thee more, Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue

705

Thy ling’ring, or with one stroke of this dart Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.” So spake the grisly terror, and in shape, So speaking and so threat’ning, grew tenfold More dreadful and deform: on th’ other side Incensed with indignation Satan stood Unterrified, and like a comet burned

710

That fires the length of Ophiuchus® huge In th’ arctic sky, and from his horrid® hair Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head Leveled his deadly aim; their fatal hands No second stroke intend, and such a frown Each cast at th’ other, as when, two black clouds

With Heav’n’s artillery fraught,’ come rattling on 6. A vast northern constellation, “the Serpent Bearer.”

7. Loaded with thunderbolts.

bristling

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JOHN

MILTON

Over the Caspian,* then stand front to front

Hov’ring a space, till winds the signal blow To join their dark encounter in mid-air: So frowned the mighty combatants, that Hell 720

NI tw Wn

Grew darker at their frown, so matched they stood;

For never but once more was either like To meet so great a foe.” And now great deeds Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung, Had not the snaky sorceress that sat Fast by Hell gate, and kept the fatal key, Ris’n, and with hideous outcry rushed between. “O father, what intends thy hand,” she cried,

730

“Against thy only son?! What fury O son, Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart Against thy father’s head? And know’st for whom; For him who sits above and laughs the while At thee ordained his drudge, to execute Whate'er his wrath, which he calls justice, bids,

735

His wrath which one day will destroy ye both.” She spake, and at her words the hellish pest Forbore, then these to her Satan returned.

“So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange Thou interposest, that my sudden hand Prevented? spares to tell thee yet by deeds 740

forestalled

What it intends; till first I know of thee, What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why

In this infernal vale first met thou call’st Me father, and that phantasm call’st my son? I know thee not, nor ever saw till now

74s

Sight more detestable than him and thee.” T’ whom thus the portress of Hell gate replied: “Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem

750

~I va wi

Now in thine eye so foul, once deemed so fair In Heav’n, when at th’ assembly, and in sight Of all the Seraphim with thee combined In bold conspiracy against Heav’n’s King, All on a sudden miserable pain Surprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast Threw forth, till on the left side op’ning wide,

Likest to thee in shape and count’nance bright, Then shining heav’nly fair, a goddess armed Out of thy head I sprung:* amazement seized All th’ host of Heav’n; back they recoiled afraid 760

At first, and called me Sin, and for a sign

Portentous held me; but familiar grown, I pleased, and with attractive graces won The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft 8. The Caspian is a particularly stormy area. 9. l.e., the Son of God. 1, Sin, Death, and Satan, in their various inter-

relations, parody obscenely the relations between

God and the Son, Adam and Eve. 2. As Athena sprang full grown from the head of Zeus.

PARADISE

EOS i

tO Ol

1'S).3)1

Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing Becam’st enamored, and such joy thou took’st

765

With me in secret, that my womb conceived A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose, And fields were fought in Heav’n; wherein remained (For what could else) to our almighty foe Clear victory, to our part loss and rout Through all the empyrean: down they fell Driv’n headlong from the pitch® of Heaven, down Into this deep, and in the general fall

summit

I also; at which time this powerful key ut

780

~Irr)Ww

Into my hand was giv’n, with charge to keep These gates forever shut, which none can pass Without my op’ning. Pensive here I sat Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. At last this odious offspring whom thou seest Thine own begotten, breaking violent way Tore through my entrails, that with fear and pain Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew Transformed: but he my inbred enemy Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart Made to destroy: I fled, and cried out ‘Death’;

Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed From all her caves, and back resounded ‘Death.’ 790

I fled, but he pursued (though more, it seems, Inflamed with lust than rage) and swifter far,

SI Ke)wi

Me overtook his mother all dismayed, And in embraces forcible and foul Engend ring with me, of that rape begot These yelling monsters that with ceaseless cry Surround me, as thou saw’st, hourly conceived And hourly born, with sorrow infinite To me, for when they list,° into the womb

800

wish

That bred them they return, and howl and gnaw My bowels, their repast; then bursting forth Afresh with conscious terrors vex me round,

That rest or intermission none I find. Before mine eyes in opposition sits Grim Death my son and foe, who sets them on, 805

And me his parent would full soon devour For want of other prey, but that he knows His end with mine involved; and knows that I

Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane,”

810

poison

Whenever that shall be; so fate pronounced. But thou O father, I forewarn thee, shun

His deadly arrow; neither vainly hope To be invulnerable in those bright arms, Though tempered heav’nly, for that mortal dint,” Save he who reigns above, none can resist.” She finished, and the subtle Fiend his lore®

blow lesson

15:32

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JOHN

MILTON

Soon learned, now milder, and thus answered smooth. “Dear daughter, since thou claim’st me for thy sire,

And my fair son here show’st me, the dear pledge Of dalliance had with thee in Heav’n, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change Befall’n us unforeseen, unthought of, know I come no enemy, but to set free From out this dark and dismal house of pain,

Both him and thee, and all the heav’nly host Of Spirits that in our just pretenses° armed Fell with us from on high: from them I go

claims

This uncouth errand? sole, and one for all

830

Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread Th’ unfounded? deep, and through the void immense To search with wand’ring quest a place foretold Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now Created vast and round, a place of bliss In the purlieus® of Heav’n, and therein placed

bottomless

outskirts

A race of upstart creatures, to supply

Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed, Lest Heav’n surcharged® with potent multitude Might hap to move new broils:° be this or aught Than this more secret now designed, I haste

overcrowded controversies

To know, and this once known, shall soon return, 840

And bring ye to the place where thou and Death Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen Wing silently the buxom? air, embalmed? yielding / made fragrant With odors; there ye shall be fed and filled Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey.” He ceased, for both seemed highly pleased, and Death Grinned horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine® should be filled, and blessed his maw°® ravenous hunger / belly Destined to that good hour: no less rejoiced His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire.

“The key of this infernal pit by due, And by command of Heav’n’s all-powerful King I keep, by him forbidden to unlock These adamantine gates; against all force Death ready stands to interpose his dart,

Fearless to be o’ermatched by living might. But what owe I to his commands above Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down

Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, To sit in hateful office here confined, 860

Inhabitant of Heav’n, and heav’nly-born,

Here in perpetual agony and pain, With terrors and with clamors compassed round Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed? 865

Thou art my father, thou my author, thou My being gav’st me; whom should I obey 3, Unknown journey—a parody of Christ’s errand on earth (3.236—65).

PARADISE

Osis

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1533

But thee, whom follow? Thou wilt bring me soon To that new world of light and bliss, among

875

880

The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign At thy right hand voluptuous,* as beseems Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.” Thus saying, from her side the fatal key, Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; And towards the gate rolling her bestial train,’ Forthwith the huge portcullis high up drew, Which but herself not all the Stygian powers°® Could once have moved; then in the keyhole turns Th’ intricate wards, and every bolt and bar Of massy iron or solid rock with ease Unfastens: on a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound

armies of Hell

Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate

885

890

Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook Of Erebus.° She opened, but to shut Excelled® her power; the gates wide open stood, That with extended wings a bannered host Under spread ensigns° marching might pass through With horse and chariots ranked in loose array; So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth Cast forth redounding® smoke and ruddy flame. Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary® deep, a dark Illimitable° ocean without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height,

Hell exceeded

flags, standards

billowing ancient

without limit

And time and place are lost; where eldest Night 895

900

905

910

And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold

Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce Strive here for mastery, and to battle bring Their embryon atoms;° they around the flag Of each his faction, in their several clans, Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow, Swarm populous, unnumbered as the sands Of Barca or Cyrene’s torrid soil,” Levied to side with warring winds, and poise® Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere, He rules a moment; Chaos’ umpire sits, And by decision more embroils the fray By which he reigns: next him high arbiter Chance governs all. Into this wild abyss, 4. As the Son sits at God's right hand, Sin will at Satan’s, a blasphemous parody of the Apostles’ Creed and of Paradise Lost 3.250—80. 5. Le. propelling her yelping offspring. 6. These subatomic qualities combine together in nature to form the four elements, fire, earth, water, and air, but they struggle endlessly in Chaos, where the atoms of these elements remain undeveloped °

1.

(in “embryo’). 7. Cities built on the shifting sands of North 1 Africa. 8. Give weight to. “Levied”: both enlisted and raised up. 9. Chaos is both the place where confusion reigns and personified confusion itself.

1534

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JOHN

MILTON

The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave, Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,

915

But all these in their pregnant causes°® mixed Confus’dly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more worlds, Into this wild abyss the wary Fiend Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while, Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith® He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed® With noises loud and ruinous (to compare Great things with small) than when Bellona! storms, With all her battering engines bent to raze Some capital city; or less than if this frame® Of Heav’n were falling, and these elements

930

In mutiny had from her axle torn The steadfast earth. At last his sail-broad vans°® He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke Uplifted spurns the ground, thence many a league As in a cloudy chair ascending rides

seeds

channel, firth dinned

structure

wings

Audacious, but that seat soon failing, meets

935

A vast vacuity: all unawares Flutt’ring his pennons? vain plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour Down had been falling, had not by ill chance

940,

The strong rebuff° of some tumultuous cloud Instinct® with fire and niter® hurried him As many miles aloft: that fury stayed, Quenched in a boggy Syrtis,* neither sea, Nor good dry land: nigh foundered? on he fares,

counterblast filled / saltpeter

drowned

Treading the crude consistence, half on foot,

945

950

Half flying; behoves°® him now both oar and sail. As when a griffin through the wilderness With wingéd course o’er hill or moory? dale, Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth Had from his wakeful custody purloined The guarded gold:* so eagerly the Fiend O’er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,

befits

marshy

And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies:

At length a universal hubbub wild Of stunning sounds and voices all confused Borne through the hollow dark assaults his ear With loudest vehemence: thither he plies,

Undaunted to meet there whatever Power Or Spirit of the nethermost abyss Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 1. Goddess of war. 2. Useless wings (“pinions”), 3. Quicksand in North African gulfs, famous for their shifting sandbars.

4. Griffins, mythical creatures, half-eagle, halflion, hoarded gold that was stolen from them by the one-eyed Arimaspians.

PARADISE

960

EOSise

BiOlOiKe2

|

LS DS

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies Bordering on light; when straight behold the throne Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread Wide on the wasteful deep; with him enthroned

965

Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things, The consort of his reign; and by them stood Orcus and Ades,* and the dreaded name Of Demogorgon,° Rumor next and Chance, And Tumult and Confusion all embroiled, And Discord with a thousand various mouths. T’ whom Satan turning boldly, thus. “Ye Powers And Spirits of this nethermost abyss, Chaos and ancient Night, | come no spy, With purpose to explore or to disturb The secrets of your realm, but by constraint Wand’ring this darksome desert, as my way Lies through your spacious empire up to light, Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek

What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds Confine with® Heav’n; or if some other place

980

border on

From your dominion won, th’ Ethereal King Possesses lately, thither to arrive I travel this profound;° direct my course; Directed, no mean recompense it brings

deep pit

To your behoof,’ if Ithat region lost,

985

on your behalf

All usurpation thence expelled, reduce To her original darkness and your sway (Which is my present journey)’ and once more Erect the standard there of ancient Night; Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge.”

990

995

Thus Satan; and him thus the anarch* old With falt’ring speech and visage incomposed® Answered. “I know thee, stranger, who thou art, That mighty leading angel, who of late Made head against Heav’n’s King, though overthrown. I saw and heard, for such a numerous host Fled not in silence through the frighted deep

disordered

With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,

Confusion worse confounded; and Heav'n gates Poured out by millions her victorious bands Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here 1000

Keep residence; if all I can will serve, That little which is left so to defend,

Encroached on still° through our intestine broils® Weak’ning the scepter of old Night: first Hell Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath;

/civil wars constantly

Now lately heaven and earth,’ another world

5. Latin and Greek names of Pluto, god of Hell. 6. A mysterious deity associated with Fate; Milton elsewhere identifies him with Chaos.

7. The purpose of my present journey.

8. Chaos is not monarch of his realm but, appropriately, “anarch,” nonruler. 9. The cosmos,

with its own

“heaven”

(not the

empyrean, the Heaven of God and the angels).

1536

1005

1010

1015

1020

|

JOHN

MILTON

Hung o'er my realm, linked in a golden chain To that side Heav’n from whence your legions fell: If that way be your walk, you have not far; So much the nearer danger; go and speed; Havoc and spoil and ruin are my gain.” He ceased; and Satan stayed not to reply, But glad that now his sea should find a shore, With fresh alacrity and force renewed Springs upward like a pyramid of fire Into the wild expanse, and through the shock Of fighting elements, on all sides round Environed wins his way; harder beset And more endangered, than when Argo Jee Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks:! Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned Charybdis, and by th’ other whirlpool steered. So he with difficulty and labor hard Moved on, with difficulty and labor he; But he once passed, soon after when man fell,

Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain® 1025

1030

1035

1040

1045

1050

at full speed

Following his track, such was the will of Heav’n,

Paved after him a broad and beaten way Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length From Hell continued reaching th’ utmost orb? Of this frail world; by which the Spirits perverse With easy intercourse pass to and fro To tempt or punish mortals, except whom God and good angels guard by special grace. But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and from the walls of Heav’n Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins Her farthest verge,°? and Chaos to retire As from her outmost works a broken foe With tumult less and with less hostile din, That® Satan with less toil, and now with ease

Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light And like a weather-beaten vessel holds° Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn; Or in the emptier waste, resembling air Weighs? his spread wings, at leisure to behold Far off th’ empyreal Heav’n, extended wide In circuit, undetermined square or round, With opal tow’rs and battlements adorned Of living sapphire, once his native seat; And fast by hanging in a golden chain 1. Jason and his fifty Argonauts, sailing through the Bosporus to the Black Sea in pursuit of the Golden Fleece, had to pass through the Symplegades, or clashing rocks. 2. Homer's

Ulysses, sailing where

Italy almost

threshold

so that

makes for

balances

touches Sicily, had to pass between Charybdis, a whirlpool, and Scylla, a monster who devoured six of his men (not another whirlpool, as used here). 3. The bridge ends on the outermost sphere of the ten concentric spheres making up the universe.

PARADISIE

E@ST,

This pendent world,° in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge,

BO'IOK=3

|

Rvs hie

universe

Accursed, and in a cursed hour, he hies.

1055

Book 3 The Argument God sitting on his throne sees Satan flying towards this world, then newly created; shows him to the Son who sat at his right hand; foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind; clears his own justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created man free and able enough to have withstood his tempter; yet declares his purpose of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own malice, as did Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders

praises to his Father for the manifestation of his gracious purpose towards man; but God again declares, that grace cannot be extended towards man without the satisfaction of divine justice; man hath offended the majesty of God by aspiring to Godhead, and therefore with all his progeny devoted to death must die, unless someone can be found sufficient to answer for his offense, and undergo his punishment. The Son of God freely offers himself a ransom for man: the Father accepts him, ordains his incarnation, pronounces his exaltation about all names in heaven and earth; commands all the angels to adore him; they obey, and hymning to their harps in full choir, celebrate the Father and the Son. Meanwhile Satan alights upon the bare convex of this world’s outermost orb; where wandering he first finds a place since called the Limbo of Vanity; what persons and things fly up thither; thence comes to the gate of heaven, described ascending by stairs, and the waters above the firma-

ment that flow about it: his passage thence to the orb of the sun; he finds there Uriel the regent of that orb, but first changes himself into the shape of a meaner angel; and pretending a zealous desire to behold the new creation and man whom God had placed there, inquires of him the place of his habitation, and is directed; alights first on Mount Niphates.

wn

Hail holy Light, offspring of Heav’n firstborn, Or of th’ Eternal coeternal beam May I express thee unblamed?! Since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate.° Or hear’st thou rather? pure ethereal stream,

uncreated, eternal

Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice 10

Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest® The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite.

1. This second proem or invocation (3.1—55) is a hymn to Light, addressed either as the first crea-

ture of God or as coeternal with God, with allu-

cover

sion to | John 1.5, “God is Light, and in him is no darkness at all. 2. Le., would you rather be called (a Latinism).

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MILTON

Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight Through utter and through middle darkness* borne With other notes than to th’ Orphéan lyre* I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, Taught by the Heav’nly Muse? to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend, Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,

30

And feel thy sov’reign vital lamp; but thou Revisit’st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, Or dim suffusion® veiled. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee Sion’ and the flow’ry brooks beneath That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget®

always remember

Those other two equaled with me in fate,* So were I equaled with them in renown,

Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides, And Tiresias and Phineus prophets old,” Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move Harmonious numbers;? as the wakeful bird® 40

Sings darkling,° and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year

verses / nightingale in the dark

Seasons return, but not to me returns

Day, or the sweet approach of ev’n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during® dark

everlasting

Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge® fair

Presented with a universal blank Of nature’s works to me expunged and razed,° And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. So much the rather thou celestial Light Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers

Book of Nature erased

Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence

Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight. Now had the Almighty Father from above, From the pure empyrean® where he sits

Heaven

3. Hell is “utter” (i.e., outer) darkness; Chaos is middle darkness.

blindness.

4. One of the so-called Orphic hymns is “To Night,” and Orpheus himself visited the underworld. But Milton’s song, Christian and epic, is of a different kind. 5. Urania (though not named until 7.1).

its brooks Siloa and Kidron. 8. Le., blind like me. 9. Thamyris was a blind Thracian poet who lived before Homer; “Maeonides” is an epithet of Homer; Tiresias was the blind prophet of Thebes; Phineus was a blind king and seer (Aeneid 3).

6. Cataract—suffusio nigra. “Drop serene”: gutta serena, the medical term for Milton’s kind of

7. The mountain of scriptural inspiration, with

PARADISE

60

80

LOST,

High throned above all height, bent down his eye, His own works and their works at once to view: Above him all the sanctities® of Heaven Stood thick as stars, and from his sight received Beatitude past utterance; on his right The radiant image of his glory sat, His only Son; on earth he first beheld Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivaled love In blissful solitude; he then surveyed Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there Coasting the wall of Heav’n on this side Night In the dun® air sublime,° and ready now To stoop® with wearied wings, and willing feet On the bare outside of this world,° that seemed Firm land embosomed without firmament,° Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. Him God beholding from his prospect high, Wherein past, present, future he beholds, Thus to his only Son foreseeing spake. “Only begotten Son, seest thou what rage Transports our Adversary, whom no bounds

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1539

angels

dusky / aloft swoop down universe

atmosphere

Prescribed, no bars of Hell, nor all the chains

90

Heaped on him there, nor yet the main® abyss Wide interrupt! can hold; so bent he seems On desperate revenge, that shall redound® Upon his own rebellious head. And now Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way Not far off Heav’n, in the precincts of light, Directly towards the new-created world, And man there placed, with purpose to essay® If him by force he can destroy, or worse, By some false guile pervert; and shall pervert; For man will hearken to his glozing? lies, And easily transgress the sole command, Sole pledge of his obedience: so will fall He and his faithless progeny: whose fault? Whose but his own? Ingrate, he had of me All he could have; I made him just and right,

100

Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. Such I created all th’ ethereal Powers And Spirits, both them who stood and them who failed;

Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. Not free, what proof could they have giv’n sincere

Of true allegiance, constant faith or love, 105

Where only what they needs must do, appeared, Not what they would? What praise could they receive? What pleasure I from such obedience paid, 1. Forming a wide breach between Heaven and Hell.

vast

flow back

try

flattering

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When will and reason (reason also is choice) Useless and vain, of freedom both despoiled, Made passive both, had served necessity,

Not me. They therefore as to right belonged, So were created, nor can justly accuse Their Maker, or their making, or their fate, As if predestination overruled Their will, disposed by absolute decree Or high foreknowledge; they themselves decreed Their own revolt, not I: if I foreknew,

20

25

130

135

140

148

180

Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, Which had no less proved certain unforeknown.? So without least impulse or shadow of fate, Or aught by me immutably foreseen, They trespass, authors to themselves in all Both what they judge and what they choose; for so I formed them free, and free they must remain, Till they enthrall themselves: I else must change Their nature, and revoke the high decree Unchangeable, eternal, which ordained Their freedom, they themselves ordained their fall. The first sort? by their own suggestion fell, Self-tempted, self-depraved: man falls deceived By the other first: man therefore shall find grace, The other none: in mercy and justice both, Through Heav’n and earth, so shall my glory excel, But mercy first and last shall brightest shine.” Thus while God spake, ambrosial® fragrance filled All Heav’n, and in the blesséd Spirits elect® Sense of new joy ineffable® diffused: Beyond compare the Son of God was seen Most glorious, in him all his Father shone Substantially expressed, and in his face Divine compassion visibly appeared, Love without end, and without measure grace, Which uttering thus he to his Father spake. “O Father, gracious was that word which closed Thy sovreign sentence, that man should find grace; For which both Heav’n and earth shall high extol Thy praises, with th’ innumerable sound Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne Encompassed shall resound thee ever blessed.

fragrant, immortal unfallen inexpressible

For should man finally be lost, should man

Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joined With his own folly? That be from thee far,

iss

That far be from thee, Father, who art judge Of all things made, and judgest only right.+ 2. Le., if |had not foreknown

it.

3. Satan and his crew. ; 4. The Son echoes (or rather foreshadows) Abraham pleading with the Lord to spare Sodom:

“That be far from thee to do after this manner,

to slay the righteous with the wicked . . . that be far from thee: Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” (Genesis 18.25).

PARADIS Ey EOSi,

Or shall the Adversary thus obtain His end, and frustrate thine, shall he fulfill His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught, Or proud return though to his heavier doom, 160 =Yet with revenge accomplished, and to Hell Draw after him the whole race of mankind,

165

170

By him corrupted? Or wilt thou thyself Abolish thy creation, and unmake, For him, what for thy glory thou hast made? So should thy goodness and thy greatness both Be questioned and blasphemed?® without defense.” To whom the great Creator thus replied. “O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight, Son of my bosom, Son who art alone My Word, my wisdom, and effectual might,’ All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all As my eternal purpose hath decreed:

profaned

Man shall not quite be lost, but saved who will,

i753

iso.

Yet not of will in him, but grace in me Freely vouchsafed;° once more I will renew His lapséd powers, though forfeit and enthralled By sin to foul exorbitant desires; Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand On even ground against his mortal foe, By me upheld, that he may know how frail His fall’n condition is, and to me owe

bestowed

All his deliv’rance, and to none but me.

Some I have chosen of peculiar grace Elect above the rest;° so is my will:

iss

The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warned®

warned about

Their sinful state, and to appease betimes

Th’ incensed Deity, while offered grace Invites; for I will clear their senses dark,

190

is

x00

What may suffice, and soften stony hearts To pray, repent, and bring obedience due. To prayer, repentance, and obedience due, Though but endeavored with sincere intent, Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. And I will place within them as a guide My umpire conscience, whom if they will hear, Light after light well used they shall attain,’ And to the end persisting, safe arrive. This my long sufferance and my day of grace They who neglect and scorn, shall never taste; But hard be hardened, blind be blinded more,

That they may stumble on, and deeper fall; And none but such from mercy I exclude. 5. God's speech is rhythmic and sometimes rhymed. 6. In this speech, Milton's God rejects the Calvinist doctrine that he had from the beginning predestined the damnation or salvation of each individual soul; he claims rather that grace suf-

ficient

for salvation

is offered

to all, enabling

everyone, if they choose to do so, to believe and persevere. He does, however, assert his right to give special grace to some.

7. By using the light of conscience well they will gain more light.

1542

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JOHN

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But yet all is not done; man disobeying, Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sins Against the high supremacy of Heav’n, Affecting? Godhead, and so losing all, To expiate his treason hath naught left, But to destruction sacred and devote,°

aspiring to consecrated

He with his whole posterity must die,

210

Die he or justice must; unless for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death. Say heav’nly Powers, where shall we find such love,

nN

wi

220

Which of ye will be mortal to redeem Man’s mortal crime,® and just th’ unjust to save, Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?” He asked, but all the heav’nly choir stood mute,” And silence was in Heav’n; on man’s behalf Patron or intercessor none appeared, Much less that durst upon his own head draw The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.

And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and Hell By doom severe, had not the Son of God, 225

230

In whom the fullness dwells of love divine,

His dearest mediation® thus renewed. “Father, thy word is passed, man shall find grace; And shall grace not find means, that finds her way, The speediest of thy wingéd messengers, ~—To visit all thy creatures, and to all Comes unprevented,° unimplored, unsought, Happy for man, so coming; he her aid

intercession

unanticipated

Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost;

235

Atonement for himself or offering meet,° Indebted and undone, hath none to bring:

fitting

Behold me then, me for him, life for life

I offer, on me let thine anger fall; Account me man; | for his sake will leave

240

248

250

Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee +Freely put off, and for him lastly die Well pleased, on me let Death wreak all his rage; Under his gloomy power I shall not long Lie vanquished; thou hast giv’n me to possess Life in myself forever, by thee I live, ‘Though now to Death I yield, and am his due All that of me can die, yet that debt paid, Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul Forever with corruption there to dwell; But I shall rise victorious, and subdue My vanquisher, spoiled of his vaunted spoil; 8. “Mortal” means “human” “deadly” in line 215.

in line 214, but

9. Compare 2.420-26.

the devils in the Great Consult,

PARADISE

LOST.

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Death his death’s wound shall then receive, and stoop Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed. 255

I through the ample air in triumph high Shall lead Hell captive maugre® Hell, and show The powers of darkness bound. Thou at the sight

in spite of

Pleased, out of Heaven shalt look down and smile,

275

285

While by thee raised I ruin! all my foes, Death last, and with his carcass glut the grave: Then with the multitude of my redeemed Shall enter Heaven long absent, and return, Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud Of anger shall remain, but peace assured, And reconcilement; wrath shall be no more Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire.” His words here ended, but his meek aspéct Silent yet spake, and breathed immortal love To mortal men, above which only shone Filial obedience: as a sacrifice Glad to be offered, he attends the will Of his great Father. Admiration® seized All Heav’n, what this might mean, and whither tend Wond ring; but soon th’ Almighty thus replied: “O thou in Heav’n and earth the only peace Found out for mankind under wrath, O thou My sole complacence!° well thou know’st how dear To me are all my works, nor man the least Though last created, that for him I spare Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, By losing thee a while, the whole race lost. Thou therefore whom? thou only canst redeem, Their nature also to thy nature join; And be thyself man among men on earth, Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin seed, By wondrous birth: be thou in Adam’s room The head of all mankind, though Adam’s son.? As in him perish all men, so in thee

wonder

pleasure, delight

As from a second root shall be restored,

As many as are restored, without thee none. His crime makes guilty all his sons; thy merit Imputed shall absolve them who renounce Their own both righteous and unrighteous deeds,

And live in thee transplanted, and from thee Receive new life. So man, as is most just, 295

Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die, And dying rise, and rising with him raise His brethren, ransomed with his own dear life. 1. In the Latin sense, throw down. 2. The

antecedent

of “whom”

is, loosely con-

son of his descent from the first man, Adam. Cf. 1 Corinthians

15.22;

“For as in Adam

all die,

strued, the “their nature” that follows it. 3. The Son of God, who long antedates the cre-

even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” 4. The merit of Christ attributed vicariously

being (3.383), is later incarnated in Jesus Christ; he is called Second Adam and Son of Man by rea-

sin those who renounce their own deeds, good and bad, and hope to be saved by faith.

ation of Adam and who is actually the first created

(“imputed”) to human beings frees from original

1544

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So heav’nly love shall outdo hellish hate, Giving to death, and dying to redeem, So dearly to redeem what hellish hate So easily destroyed, and still destroys In those who, when they may, accept not grace. Nor shalt thou by descending to assume Man’s nature, lessen or degrade thine own. Because thou hast, though throned in highest bliss Equal to God, and equally enjoying Godlike fruition,°® quitted all to save

pleasurable possession

A world from utter loss, and hast been found 310

By merit more than birthright Son of God,’ Found worthiest to be so by being good, Far more than great or high; because in thee Love hath abounded more than glory abounds. Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt With thee thy manhood also to this throne; Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign Both God and man, Son both of God and man, Anointed® universal King; all power

I give thee, reign forever, and assume Thy merits; under thee as Head Supreme 320

325

330

Thrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions’ I reduce: All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bide In Heaven, or earth, or under earth in Hell;

When thou attended gloriously from Heav’n Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send The summoning Archangels to proclaim Thy dread tribunal: forthwith from all winds® The living, and forthwith the cited® dead Of all past ages to the general doom® Shall hasten, such a peal shall rouse their sleep. Then all thy saints assembled, thou shalt judge Bad men and angels, they arraigned? shall sink

directions summoned judgment accursed

Beneath thy sentence; Hell, her numbers full,

Thenceforth shall be forever shut. Meanwhile The world shall burn, and from her ashes spring New heav’n® and earth, wherein the just shall dwell,® And after all their tribulations long

sky, cosmos

See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,

340

With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth. Then thou thy regal scepter shalt lay by, For regal scepter then no more shall need,° God shall be all in all. But all ye gods,°

Adore him, who to compass all this dies,

be needed angels

Adore the Son, and honor him as me.”

No sooner had th’ Almighty ceased, but all 5. A heterodox doctrine, that Christ was Son of God by merit. Compare with Satan (2.5). 6. In Hebrew “Messiah” means “the anointed one.” 7. Orders of angels.

8. Milton’s description of the Last Judgment draws on several biblical texts, including Matthew 24.20—31 and 25.31—32; the account of the burning and re-creation of the heavens and earth is from 2 Peter 3.12—13.

PARADISE

345

E@Sii,

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The multitude of angels with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy, Heav’n rung? With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled Th’ eternal regions: lowly reverent Towards either throne! they bow, and to the ground

355

360

370

With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant? and gold, Immortal amarant, a flow’r which once In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life Began to bloom, but soon for man’s offense To Heav’n removed where first it grew, there grows, And flow’rs aloft shading the Fount of Life, And where the river of bliss through midst of Heav’n Rolls o’er Elysian? flow’rs her amber stream; With these that never fade the Spirits elect Bind their resplendent locks inwreathed with beams, Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright Pavement that like a sea of jasper shone Impurpled with celestial roses smiled. Then crowned again their golden harps they took, Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Of charming symphony they introduce Their sacred song, and waken raptures high; No voice exempt,’ no voice but well could join Melodious part, such concord is in Heav’n. Thee Father first they sung omnipotent,

excluded

Immutable, immortal, infinite,

Eternal King; thee Author of all being, Fountain of light, thyself invisible Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt’st Throned inaccessible, but® when thou shad’st

except

The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine,* 380

Dark with Yet dazzle Approach Thee next

excessive bright thy skirts appear, Heav’n, that brightest Seraphim not, but with both wings veil their eyes. they sang of all creation first,’

Begotten Son, Divine Similitude, 385

In whose conspicuous count’nance, without cloud Made visible, th’ Almighty Father shines, Whom

390

else no creature can behold;° on thee

Impressed th’ effulgence of his glory abides, Transfused on thee his ample spirit rests. He Heav’n of heavens and all the Powers therein 9, “Multitude” (line 345) is the subject of the sentence, “rung” the verb, and “Heav'n” the object. 1. Thrones of God and the Son.

2. In Greek, “unfading,” a legendary immortal flower. 3, Milton draws freely, for his Christian Heaven,

on descriptions of the classical paradisal place,

the Elysian Fields. 4. The turn from theological debate to images that evoke a more mystical aspect of God. 5. The Son is not eternal, as in Trinitarian doctrine, but rather, God’s first creation. 6. If it were not for the Son who is God's image,

no creature could see God.

1546

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400

405

410

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MILTON

By thee created, and by thee threw down Th’ aspiring Dominations.’ Thou that day Thy Father’s dreadful thunder didst not spare, Nor stop thy flaming chariot wheels, that shook Heav’n’s everlasting frame, while o’er the necks Thou drov’st of warring angels disarrayed. Back from pursuit thy Powers® with loud acclaim Thee only extolled, Son of thy Father's might, To execute fierce vengeance on his foes, Not so on man; him through their malice fall’n, Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom So strictly, but much more to pity incline: No sooner did thy dear and only Son Perceive thee purposed not to doom? frail man So strictly, but much more to pity inclined, He to appease thy wrath, and end the strife Of mercy and justice in thy face discerned, Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat Second to thee, offered himself to die For man’s offense. O unexampled love, Love nowhere to be found less than divine!

angels

judge

Hail Son of God, Savior of men, thy name

420

Shall be the copious matter of my® song Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise Forget, nor from thy Father’s praise disjoin. Thus they in Heav’n, above the starry sphere, Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent. Meanwhile upon the firm opacous® globe Of this round world, whose first convex divides The luminous inferior orbs, enclosed

opaque

From Chaos and th’ inroad of Darkness old,

Satan alighted walks:? a globe far off It seemed, now seems a boundless continent Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night

430

Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms Of Chaos blust’ring round, inclement sky; Save on that side which from the wall of Heav’n Though distant far some small reflection gains Of glimmering air less vexed with tempest loud: Here walked the Fiend at large in spacious field. As when a vulture on Imaus bred,

Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds,! Dislodging from a region scarce of prey To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling® kids On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams;? 7. The rebel angels. 8. Either Milton here quotes the angels singing as a single chorus, or he associates himself with their song, or both. 9. Satan is on the outermost of the ten concen-

tric spheres that make up the cosmos. 1. Imaus, a ridge of mountains beyond the mod-

newborn

ern Himalayas, runs north through Asia from modern Afghanistan to the Arctic Circle. 2. Both the Ganges and the Hydaspes (a tributary of the Indus) rise from the mountains of northern India. Sericana (line 438) is a region in

northwest China.

PARADISE

440

445

450

LOST,

BiGiOiK

3

But in his way lights on the barren plains Of Sericana, where Chineses drive With sails and wind their cany wagons light: So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend Walked up and down alone bent on his prey, Alone, for other creature in this place Living or lifeless to be found was none, None yet, but store hereafter from the earth Up hither like aérial vapors flew Of all things transitory and vain, when sin With vanity had filled the works of men: Both all things vain, and all who in vain things Built their fond° hopes of glory or lasting fame, Or happiness in this or th’ other life;

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1547

foolish

All who have their reward on earth, the fruits

455

Of painful superstition and blind zeal, Naught seeking but the praise of men, here find Fit retribution, empty as their deeds; All th’ unaccomplished® works of nature’s hand, Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly°® mixed,

460

465

imperfect unnaturally

Dissolved on earth, fleet° hither, and in vain, Till final dissolution, wander here, Not in the neighboring moon, as some? have dreamed;

float

Those argent? fields more likely habitants, Translated saints,* or middle Spirits hold

silver

Betwixt th’ angelical and human kind: Hither of ill-joined sons and daughters born First from the ancient world those giants came With many a vain exploit, though then renowned:’ The builders next of Babel on the plain Of Sennaar,°® and still with vain design New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build: Others came single; he who to be deemed

470

A god, leaped fondly° into Etna flames, Empedocles, and he who to enjoy Plato’s Elysium, leaped into the sea,

foolishly

Cleombrotus, and many more too long,’

473.

Embryos and idiots, eremites® and friars White, black, and gray, with all their trumpery.° Here pilgrims roam, that strayed so far to seek In Golgotha?’ him dead, who lives in Heav’n; And they who to be sure of paradise Dying put on the weeds°® of Dominic,

hermits

garments

2.11—12).

6. Shinar, the plain of Babel (Genesis 11.2—9), the Tower of Babel is an emblem of human pride and folly. 7. Le., it would take too long to name them. Both Empedocles and Cleombrotus foolishly carried piety to the point of suicide. 8. Religious paraphernalia. The white friars are Carmelites; the black, Dominicans; and the gray,

5. Giants, born of unnatural marriages between the “sons of God” and the daughters of men

9. Place where Christ was crucified.

3. Milton’s

Paradise

of Fools

(named

in line

496) was inspired by Ariosto’s Limbo of Vanity in Orlando Furioso (Book 34, lines 73ff.); Milton’s

region is reserved for deluded victims of misplaced devotion, chiefly Roman Catholics. 4. Holy men like Enoch and Elijah, transported to Heaven while yet alive. (Genesis 5.24; 2 Kings

(Genesis 6.4), are creatures unkindly mixed.

Franciscans.

1548

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JOHN

MILTON

Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised;! They pass the planets seven, and pass the fixed, And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs The trepidation talked, and that first moved;?

And now Saint Peter at Heav’n’s wicket seems To wait them with his keys, and now at foot Of Heav’n’s ascent they lift their feet, when lo A violent crosswind from either coast Blows them transverse ten thousand leagues awry Into the devious® air. Then might ye see 490

erratic

Cowls, hoods, and habits? with their wearers tossed

And fluttered into rags; then relics, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls,

495

The sport of winds: all these upwhirled aloft Fly o’er the backside® of the world far off Into a limbo large and broad, since called

rump

The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown

Long after, now unpeopled, and untrod; All this dark globe the Fiend found as he passed, And long he wandered, till at last a gleam 500

505

Of dawning light turned thitherward in haste His traveled? steps; far distant he descries Ascending by degrees® magnificent Up to the wall of Heaven a structure high, At top whereof, but far more rich appeared The work as of a kingly palace gate With frontispiece® of diamond and gold Embellished; thick with sparkling orient® gems

travel-weary steps

pediment lustrous

The portal shone, inimitable on earth, 510

VI VI

By model, or by shading pencil drawn. The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw Angels ascending and descending, bands Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled To Padan-Aram in the field of Luz, Dreaming by night under the open sky, And waking cried, “This is the gate of Heav’n.” Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood There always, but drawn up to Heav’n sometimes Viewless,° and underneath a bright sea flowed Ofjasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon Who after came from earth, sailing arrived,

invisible

Wafted by angels, or flew o’er the lake

Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds.° The stairs were then let down, whether to dare

The Fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate 1. Some try to trick God into granting them sal-

vation by wearing on their deathbeds the garb of various religious orders.

2. Milton follows their souls through the spheres of the moon and sun, the five thenknown planets, the fixed stars, and the sphere responsible for the “trepidation” (a periodic corrective shudder of the cosmos), up to the primum mobile, or prime mover. The next step seems to

be the empyreal Heaven. 3. The dress of religious orders, together with (next lines) saints’ relics, rosary beads, various kinds of pardon for sins, and papal decrees (“bulls”). 4. The story of Jacob’s vision is summarized from Genesis 28.1—-19; the stairs of the ladder (next line) allegorically (“mysteriously”) represent stages of spiritual growth. 5. Elijah was wafted to heaven in a chariot.

PARADISE

530

p35

545

550

555

560

565

LOST,

His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss. Direct against which opened from beneath, Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise, A passage down to th’ earth, a passage wide,° Wider by far than that of aftertimes Over Mount Zion, and, though that were large, Over the Promised Land to God so dear, By which, to visit oft those happy tribes, On high behests his angels to and fro Passed frequent, and his eye with choice® regard From Paneas the fount of Jordan’s flood To Beérsaba, where the Holy Land Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore;’ So wide the op’ning seemed, where bounds were set To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. Satan from hence now on the lower stair That scaled by steps of gold to Heaven gate Looks down with wonder at the sudden view Of all this world at once. As when a scout Through dark and desert ways with peril gone All night; at last by break of cheerful dawn Obtains° the brow of some high-climbing hill, Which to his eye discovers unaware The goodly prospect of some foreign land First seen, or some renowned metropolis With glistering spires and pinnacles adorned, Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams. Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen, The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized At sight of all this world beheld so fair.

BOOK

3

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1549

discriminating

gains

Round he surveys, and well might, where he stood

So high above the circling canopy Of night’s extended shade; from eastern point Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears Andromeda far off Atlantic seas* Beyond th’ horizon; then from pole to pole He views in breadth, and without longer pause Down right into the world’s first region throws His flight precipitant, and winds with ease Through the pure marble® air his oblique way Amongst innumerable stars, that shone

sparkling

Stars distant, but nigh hand seemed other worlds,

570

Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles, Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old, Fortunate fields, and groves and flow’ry vales,’ Thrice happy isles, but who dwelt happy there He stayed not to inquire: above them all 6. A passage through the crystalline spheres, otherwise impenetrable. 7. From

Paneas

(or Dan) in northern

Palestine

to Beersaba, or Beersheba, near the Egyptian border—the entire land of Israel. 8. In the zodiac, Libra is diametrically oppo-

site Aries, or the Ram (“the fleecy star”), which seems to carry the constellation Andromeda on its back.

9. The gardens of the Hesperides and the “fortunate isles” of Greek mythology, classical versions of paradise, lay far out in the Atlantic.

1550

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JOHN

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The golden sun in splendor likest Heaven Allured his eye: thither his course he bends Through the calm firmament;? but up or down

sky

By center, or eccentric, hard to tell,

Or longitude,' where the great luminary Aloof the vulgar constellations thick, That from his lordly eye keep distance due, Dispenses light from far; they as they move Their starry dance in numbers that compute Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp Turn swift their various motions, or are turned

vl co wi

By his magnetic beam, that gently warms The universe, and to each inward part With gentle penetration, though unseen, Shoots invisible virtue°® even to the deep: So wondrously was set his station bright. There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps

influence, strength

Astronomer in the sun’s lucent orb 590

Through his glazed optic tube yet never saw.” The place he found beyond expression bright, Compared with aught on earth, metal or stone;

Not all parts like, but all alike informed With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire; wa\o wi)

600

605

If metal, part seemed gold, part silver clear; If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite,? Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone In Aaron’s breastplate,* and a stone besides Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen,’ That stone, or like to that which here below

Philosophers in vain so long have sought,° In vain, though by their powerful art they bind Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, Drained through a limbec to his native form.’ What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure,® and rivers run

Potable® gold, when with one virtuous? touch

drinkable / powerful chief alchemist

Th’ arch-chemic® sun so far from us remote Produces with terrestrial humor°® mixed

earth's moisture

Here in the dark so many precious things Of color glorious and effect so rare? Here matter new to gaze the Devil met Undazzled, far and wide his eye commands, 1. The passage leaves open whether the sun or the earth is at the center of the cosmos. 2. Galileo first observed sunspots through his telescope in 1609. 3. Any green stone. “Carbuncle”: any red stone. 4. In Exodus 28.15—20, Aaron’s “breastplate” is described as decorated with twelve different gems, of which Milton lists the first four. 5. Le., elsewhere imagined more often than seen. 6. Alchemists had identified the “philosophers” store with the urim on Aaron’s breastplate (Exo-

dus 28.30); that stone reputedly could heal all diseases,

restore

paradise,

and transmute

base

metals to gold. 7. “Hermes”: the winged god and the element mercury, which evaporated readily (“volatile”). “Proteus”: the shape-shifting sea god, a symbol of matter.

Alchemists

would

“bind”

(solidify)

mercury and dissolve or refine matter to its “native form” in a vessel (alembic, “limbec’”).

8. The liquid form of the philosopher's stone, “Here”: in the sun.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

3

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(ey Sil)

For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sunshine, as when his beams at noon

620

630

635

640

Culminate from th’ equator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body opaque can fall,? and the air, Nowhere so clear, sharpened his visual ray To objects distant far,'! whereby he soon Saw within ken® a glorious angel stand, The same whom John saw also in the sun:? His back was turned, but not his brightness hid; Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar® Circled his head, nor less his locks behind Illustrious® on his shoulders fledge® with wings Lay waving round; on some great charge employed He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep. Glad was the Spirit impure; as now in hope To find who might direct his wand’ring flight To Paradise the happy seat of man, His journey’s end and our beginning woe. But first he casts°® to change his proper shape, Which else might work him danger or delay: And now a stripling Cherub he appears, Not of the prime,? yet such as in his face Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb Suitable grace diffused, so well he feigned; Under a coronet his flowing hair

range of vision

tiara, crown

lustrous /feathered

contrives

In curls on either cheek played, wings he wore

645

Of many a colored plume sprinkled with gold, His habit fit for speed succinct,°? and held Before his decent® steps a silver wand. He drew not nigh unheard; the angel bright, Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned, Admonished by his ear, and straight® was known Th’ Archangel Uriel, one of the sev’n

close-fitting comely

immediately

Who in God’s presence, nearest to his throne* 650

Stand ready at command, and are his eyes That run through all the heav’ns, or down to th’ earth Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,

655

O’er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts: “Uriel, for thou of those sev’n Spirits that stand In sight of God’s high throne, gloriously bright, The first art wont® his great authentic® will Interpreter through highest Heav’n to bring, Where all his sons thy embassy attend; And here art likeliest by supreme decree

used / authoritative

Like honor to obtain, and as his eye 9. Before the Fall (and the consequent tipping of the earth’s axis) the sun at noon, on the equator, never cast a shadow. “Culminate”: reach their zenith. 1. The eye was thought to emit a beam into the object perceived. 2. “I saw an angel standing in the sun” (Reve-

i lation 19.17). 3. Not yet in the prime of life. 4, Uriel—in Hebrew, “light” (or “fire”) of God—is the angel named first (in 2 Esdras 4.1—5, apocrypha) among the seven angels who stood before God’s throne.

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To visit oft this new creation round; Unspeakable desire to see, and know All these his wondrous works, but chiefly man,

665

His chief delight and favor,° him for whom All these his works so wondrous he ordained, Hath brought me from the choirs of Cherubim Alone thus wand’ring. Brightest Seraph tell In which of all these shining orbs hath man

favorite

His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,

670

But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell; That I may find him, and with secret gaze, Or open admiration him behold On whom the great Creator hath bestowed Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured;

675

‘That both in him and all things, as is meet,° The Universal Maker we may praise;

680

685

fitting

Who justly hath driv’n out his rebel foes To deepest Hell, and to repair that loss Created this new happy race of men ‘To serve him better: wise are all his ways.” So spake the false dissembler unperceived; For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone, By his permissive will, through Heav’n and earth: And oft though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps At wisdom’s gate, and to simplicity Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems: which now for once beguiled

690 ~—Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held

695

The sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heav’n; Who to the fraudulent impostor foul In his uprightness answer thus returned: “Fair angel, thy desire which tends° to know The works of God, thereby to glorify The great Work-Master, leads to no excess That reaches blame, but rather merits praise

inclines

The more it seems excess, that led thee hither

700

From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, ‘To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps Contented with report hear only in Heav'n: For wonderful indeed are all his works, Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all

705

710

Had in remembrance always with delight; But what created mind can comprehend Their number, or the wisdom infinite That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep. I saw when at his word the formless mass, This world’s material mold,° came to a heap: Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined:

Till at his second bidding darkness fled,

substance

PARADISE

LOST,

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Iisyisys)

Light shone, and order from disorder sprung: Swift to their several quarters hasted then The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire,

And this ethereal quintessence’ of Heav’n Flew upward, spirited with various forms, That rolled orbicular,® and turned to stars Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move;

Each had his place appointed, each his course, The rest in circuit walls this universe. Look downward on that globe whose hither side With light from hence, though but reflected, shines; 725

“I Wwvi

That place is earth the seat of man, that light His day, which else as th’ other hemisphere Night would invade, but there the neighboring moon (So call that opposite fair star) her aid Timely interposes, and her monthly round Still ending, still renewing through mid-Heav’n, With borrowed light her countenance triform’ Hence fills and empties to enlighten th’ earth, And in her pale dominion checks the night. That spot to which I point is Paradise, Adam’s abode, those lofty shades his bow’r. Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.” Thus said, he turned, and Satan bowing low, As to superior Spirits is wont in Heav’n, Where honor due and reverence none neglects, Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath,

740

Down from th’ ecliptic,° sped with hoped success, Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel, Nor stayed, till on Niphates’ top? he lights.

the sun’s orbit

Book 4 The Argument Satan now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God and man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and

despair; but at length confirms himselfin evil, journeys on to Paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described, overleaps the bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant on the Tree of Life, as highest in the Garden to look about him. The Garden described; Satan’s first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall; overhears their discourse, thence gathers that the Tree of Knowl-

edge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress: then leaves 5. The fifth element, of which the incorruptible heavenly bodies were made. 6. The spherical shape of the stars and their orbits. “Spirited with various forms”: presided over

or inhabited by various angelic spirits or intel-

ligences (Plato, Timaeus 41E).

7. The moon was said to have a triple nature: Luna in Heaven, Diana on earth, and Hecate in Hell. 8. From here (the sun).

9. A mountain in Assyria.

1554

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JOHN

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them a while, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel descending on a sunbeam warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the deep, and passed at noon by his sphere in the shape of a good angel down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel drawing forth his bands of nightwatch to walk the round of Paradise, appoints two strong angels to Adam’s bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping; there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, prepares resistance, but hindered by a sign from heaven, flies out of Paradise.

O for that warning voice, which he who saw Th’ Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,

Came furious down to be revenged on men, va

“Woe to the inhabitants on earth!”! that now, While time was, our first parents had been warned

The coming of their secret foe, and scaped Haply° so scaped his mortal° snare; for now

perhaps / deadly

Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down, 10

The tempter ere® th’ accuser of mankind, To wreak° on innocent frail man his loss

before being avenge

Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell: Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold, Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,

Begins his dire attempt, which nigh the birth Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, And like a devilish engine back recoils Upon himself; horror and doubt distract

His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The Hell within him, for within him Hell He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell

One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place: now conscience wakes despair That slumbered, wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. Sometimes towards Eden which now in his view Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad, Sometimes towards Heav’n and the full-blazing sun, 30

Which now sat high in his meridian tow’r:2 Then much revolving,° thus in sighs began. “O thou that with surpassing glory crowned, Look’st from thy sole dominion like the god 1. John of Patmos, in Revelation 12.3—12, hears such a cry during a second war in Heaven, between the Dragon and the angels. 2. At midday, the height of noon.

pondering

3. Milton’s nephew, Edward Phillips, said that this soliloquy was written “several years before the poem was begun,” and was intended to begin a drama on the topic, Adam Unparadised.

PARADISE

35

40

LOST,

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4

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[}3}3y5)

Of this new world: at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down Warring in Heav’n against Heav’n’s matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was

50

In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided?* none, nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good proved ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I ’sdained® subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit°

disdained

pay

The debt immense of endless gratitude,

55

60

So burthensome still° paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from him | still received, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharged; what burden then? O had his powerful destiny ordained Me some inferior angel, | had stood Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised Ambition. Yet why not? some other Power® As great might have aspired, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations armed. Hadst thou® the same free will and power to stand?

always

angel

Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,

But Heav’n’s free love dealt equally to all? Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,

“I ui

80

To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay cursed be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable!® which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell,’ And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threat’ning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav’n. O then at last relent! is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left?

None left but by submission; and that word 6. A Latinism, me miserum!

4. Reproached (James 1.5). 5. Compare

Satan’s

address

to

himself

here

with Adam’s soliloquy in parallel circumstances (10.758ff.).

7. Compare Satan’s earlier claim that “the mind

is its own place” (1.254).

1556

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JOHN

MILTON

Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced

With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue Th’ Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How

dearly I abide® that boast so vain,

pay the penalty far

Under what torments inwardly I groan: While they adore me on the throne of Hell, 90

With diadem and scepter high advanced The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds. But say I could repent and could obtain By act of grace® my former state; how soon Would heighth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay What feigned submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent® and void.

100

105

forced

For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse, And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as far

| |

From granting he, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold instead Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this world. So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,

110

|

Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil be thou my good; by thee at least Divided empire with Heav’n’s King I hold By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As man ere long, and this new world shall know.”

Thus while he spake, each passion dimmed his face Thrice changed with pale,° ire, envy, and despair, Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayed Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld. For heav’nly minds from such distempers foul

pallor

Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware,

Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm, Artificer of fraud; and was the first

That practiced falsehood under saintly show, Deep malice to conceal, couched? with revenge: Yet not enough had practiced to deceive Uriel once warned; whose eye pursued him down The way he went, and on th’ Assyrian mount? Saw him disfigured, more than could befall

Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce He marked and mad demeanor, then alone, 130

As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes 8. The technical term for a formal pardon,

hidden Niphates

PARADISE

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hos) 7

Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,’

135

140

145

Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champaign head° Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque! and wild, Access denied; and overhead up grew Insuperable heighth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theater? Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general sire gave prospect large Into his nether empire neighboring round. And higher than that wall a circling row Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue Appeared, with gay enameled? colors mixed: On which the sun more glad impressed his beams

open summit

bright

Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,?

160

When God hath show’red the earth; so lovely seemed That landscape: and of pure now purer air? Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires® Vernal delight and joy, able to drive® All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning their odoriferous° wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope,’ and now are past

rainbow

infuses drive out

fragrance-bearing

Cape of Good Hope

Mozambic, off at sea northeast winds blow

165

Sabean odors from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest,* with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheered with the grateful° smell old Ocean smiles. So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend

pleasing

Who came their bane,° though with them better pleased Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume, That drove him, though enamored, from the spouse 170

Of Tobit’s son, and with a vengeance sent From Media post to Egypt, there fast bound.’ Now to th’ascent of that steep savage® hill

poison

wooded, wild

Satan had journeyed on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwined, As one continued brake,° the undergrowth

9. Paradise is a delightful (“delicious”) garden

on top of a steep hill situated in the east of the land of Eden. 1, Characterized by interwoven, tangled vines and branches. 2. As if ina Greek amphitheater, the trees are set row on row. 3. The air becomes still purer. 4. Arabia

Felix (modern Yemen).

“Sabean”:

the

thicket

biblical Sheba. 5. The Apocryphal book of Tobit tells of Tobias, Tobit’s son, who married Sara and avoided the fate of her previous seven

husbands

(killed on

their wedding night by the demon Asmodeus) by following the instructions of the angel Raphael and making a fishy smell to drive him off; Asmodeus then fled to Egypt, where Raphael bound him.

1558

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MILTON

Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplexed All path of man or beast that passed that way: One gate there only was, and that looked east On th’ other side: which when th’ arch-felon saw 180

Due entrance he disdained, and in contempt,

185

At one slight bound high overleaped all bound Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve In hurdled cotes° amid the field secure,

pens of woven reeds

Leaps o’er the fence with ease into the fold: Or as a thief bent to unhoard the cash Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, 190

Cross-barred and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbs, or o’er the tiles;

195

200

So clomb’ this first grand thief into God’s fold: So since into his church lewd hirelings® climb. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a cormorant;’ yet not true life Thereby regained, but sat devising death To them who lived; nor on the virtue® thought Of that life-giving plant, but only used For prospect,° what well used had been the pledge Of immortality. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things

climbed

power as a lookout

To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.

210

iy

wi

Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense exposed In narrow room nature’s whole wealth, yea more, A heav’n on earth: for blissful Paradise Of God the garden was, by him in the east Of Eden planted; Eden stretched her line From Auran eastward to the royal tow’rs Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings, Or where the sons of Eden long before Dwelt in Telassar:® in this pleasant soil His far more pleasant garden God ordained; Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,

Nwi) j=)

High eminent, blooming ambrosial® fruit Of vegetable gold; and next to life Our death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill. 6. Base

men

interested

only in money;

Milton

would have clergymen not paid by required tithes or by the state, to ensure their purity of motive. 7. A sea bird, noted for gluttony. 8. Auran is the province of Hauran on the east-

divinely fragrant

ern border of Israel. Selucia, a powerful city on

the Tigris, near modern Baghdad, was founded by one of Alexander’s generals (“built by Grecian kings”). Telassar is another Near Eastern kingdom,

PARADISE

LOST,

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4

|

|S) /6y@)

Southward through Eden went a river large,’ Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill 225

230

240

Passed underneath engulfed, for God had thrown

That mountain as his garden mold® high raised Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous earth with kindly°® thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill Watered the garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears, And now divided into four main streams, Runs diverse, wand’ring many a famous realm And country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if art could tell, How from that sapphire fount the crispéd° brooks, Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold, With mazy error! under pendent shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flow’rs worthy of Paradise which not nice® art In beds and curious knots, but nature boon? Poured forth profuse on hill and dale and plain, Both where the morning sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierced shade Embrowned? the noontide bow’rs. Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view,” Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm, Others whose fruit burnished with golden rind Hung amiable,° Hesperian fables true,’ If true, here only, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them lawns, or level downs,’ and flocks

255

Grazing the tender herb, were interposed, Or palmy hillock, or the flow’ry lap Of some irriguous? valley spread her store,

rich earth natural

wavy, rippling

fastidious bounteous

darkened

lovely

uplands

well-watered

Flow’rs of all hue, and without thorn the rose:

Another side, umbrageous® grots and caves Of cool recess, o’er which the mantling® vine

shady

enveloping

Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps 260

Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake,

That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned, Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. The birds their choir apply; airs,* vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan” Knit? with the Graces and the Hours in dance Led on th’ eternal spring. Not that fair field 9. The Tigris (identified at 9.71) flowed under the hill. 1. From Latin errare, wandering. 2. Like a country estate, with a variety of prosas These were real golden apples, by contrast to

clasping hands

those feigned golden apples of the Hesperides, fabled paradis:al islands in the Western Ocean. 4. Both breezes and melodies. “Their choir apply”: practice their songs. 5. The god of all nature—pan in Greek means alle

1560

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Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flow’rs Herself a fairer flow’r by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet grove Of Daphne by Orontes, and th’ inspired Castalian spring, might with this Paradise Of Eden strive;° nor that Nyseian isle Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,

Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove, Hid Amalthea and her florid° son

wine-flushed

Young Bacchus from his stepdame Rhea’s eye;’ Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard, Mount Amara,* though this by some supposed True Paradise under the Ethiop line® By Nilus’°® head, enclosed with shining rock,

A whole day’s journey high, but wide remote From this Assyrian garden,° where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall,

equator

Nile’s

Eden

Godlike erect, with native honor clad 290

In naked majesty seemed lords of all, And worthy seemed, for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, Severe but in true filial freedom placed; Whence true authority in men;? though both Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed; For contemplation he and valor formed, For softness she and sweet attractive grace,

300

He for God only, she for God in him:! His fair large front? and eye sublime declared Absolute rule; and hyacinthine? locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clust’ring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:

forehead

She as a veil down to the slender waist 305

Her unadorned golden tresses wore Disheveled, but in wanton® ringlets waved As the vine curls her tendrils,? which implied Subjection, but required? with gentle sway,°

310

And by her yielded, by him best received, Yielded with coy® submission, modest pride, 6. Milton compares Paradise with famous beauty spots of antiquity. Enna in Sicily was a lovely

meadow from which Proserpine was kidnapped by “gloomy Dis” (i.e., Pluto); her mother Ceres sought her throughout the world. The grove of Daphne, near Antioch and the Orontes River in the Near East, had a spring called “Castalia” after the Muses’ fountain near Parnassus. 7. The isle of Nysa in the river Triton in Tunisia was where Ammon (an Egyptian god, identified with Cham, or Ham, the son of Noah) hid Bacchus, his child by Amalthea (who later became the god of wine), away from the eyes of his wife Rhea.

unrestrained

requested / persuasion shyly reserved

8. Atop Mount Amara, the “Abassin” (Abyssinian) king had a splendid palace in a paradisal garden. 9. This phrase underscores Milton’s idea that true freedom involves obedience to natural superiors (i.e., God).

1. The phrase has as its context 1 Corinthians 11.3: “The head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man.” 2. A classical metaphor for hair curled in the form of hyacinth petals, and perhaps also implying dark or flowing. 3. Eve's hair is curly, abundant, not subjected to rigid control, like the vegetation in Paradise.

BARA

320

DIS

ES O'Sili,

And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed, Then was not guilty shame, dishonest® shame Of nature’s works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure, And banished from man’s life his happiest life, Simplicity and spotless innocence. So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight Of God or angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair

BOOK

4

|

1561

unchaste

That ever since in love’s embraces met,

340

Adam the goodliest man of men since born His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of their sweet gard’ning labor than sufficed To recommend cool Zephyr,* and made ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell, Nectarine® fruits which the compliant boughs Yielded them, sidelong as they sat recline On the soft downy bank damasked with flow’rs: The savory pulp they chew, and in the rind Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose,’ nor endearing smiles Wanted,° nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linked in happy nuptial league, Alone as they. About them frisking played All beasts of th’ earth, since wild, and of all chase® In wood or wilderness, forest or den;

Sporting the lion ramped,’ and in his paw

sweet as nectar

conversation

lacked

game animals stood on hind legs

Dandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces,° pards°®

Gamboled before them; th’ unwieldy elephant To make them mirth used all his might, and wreathed His lithe proboscis;° close the serpent sly

lynxes / leopards

trunk

writhing, twisting

Insinuating,° wove with Gordian twine

His braided train,* and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass

Couched, and now filled with pasture gazing sat,

Or bedward ruminating:° for the sun Declined was hasting now with prone® career To th’ Ocean Isles,° and in th’ ascending scale Of Heav’n the stars that usher evening rose:

chewing the cud sinking the Azores

When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood,

Scarce thus at length failed speech recovered sad. “O Hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanced

4. L.e., to make a cool breeze welcome. 5. Checkered body. “Gordian twine”: cords as

convoluted as the Gordian knot that Alexander the Great had to cut with his sword.

1562

360

|

JOHN

MILTON

Creatures of other mold, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav’nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formed them on their shape hath poured. Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy;

380

Happy, but for so happy? ill secured Long to continue, and this high seat your heav’n Ill fenced for Heav’n to keep out such a foe As now is entered; yet no purposed foe To you whom I could pity thus forlorn Though I unpitied: league with you I seek, And mutual amity so strait,° so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply° may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Maker’s work; he gave it me,

such happiness

intimate perhaps

| |

Which | as freely give; Hell shall unfold,

|

To entertain you two, her widest gates,

|

And send forth all her kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive 385

Your numerous offspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for® him who wronged. And should I at your harmless innocence

in place of

Melt, as I do, yet public reason just, 390

395

Honor and empire with revenge enlarged By conquering this new world, compels me now To do what else though damned I should abhor.”¢ So spake the Fiend, and with necessity, The tyrant’s plea, excused his devilish deeds. Then from his lofty stand on that high tree Down he alights among the sportful herd Of those four-footed kinds, himself now one,

400

405

| |

Now other, as their shape served best his end Nearer to view his prey, and unespied To mark what of their state he more might learn By word or action marked: about them round A lion now he stalks with fiery glare, Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spied In some purlieu® two gentle fawns at play, Straight° couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seize them both Gripped in each paw: when Adam first of men To first of women Eve thus moving speech

outskirts of a forest at once

6. Satan’s excuse—reason of state, public interest, empire, etc.—is called “the tyrant’s plea” in line 394,

PARA DIES E EOSie)

410

Turned him all ear to hear new utterance flow: “Sole partner and sole® part of all these joys, Dearer thyself than all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample world Be infinitely good, and of his good

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1563

chief

As liberal and free as infinite,

That raised us from the dust and placed us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can perform Aught whereof he hath need, he who requires From us no other service than to keep This one, this easy charge, of all the trees In Paradise that bear delicious fruit So various, not to taste that only Tree Of Knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So near grows death to life, whate’er death is, Some dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou know’st God hath pronounced it death to taste that Tree,

430

435

440

450

The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signs of power and rule Conferred upon us, and dominion giv’n Over all other creatures that possess Earth, air, and sea. Then let us not think hard One easy prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extol His bounty, following our delightful task To prune these growing plants, and tend these flow’, Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet.” To whom thus Eve replied. “O thou for whom And from whom I was formed flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my guide And head, what thou hast said is just and right. For we to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So far the happier lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds,’ while thou Like consort to thyself canst nowhere find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed® Under a shade on flowers, much wond’ring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issued from a cave and spread Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved Pure as th’ expanse of Heav’n; I thither went

460

With unexperienced thought, and laid me down On the green bank, to look into the clear Smooth lake, that to me seemed another sky. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A shape within the wat’ry gleam appeared

advantage

resting

1564

|

JOHN

MILTON

Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleased I soon returned,

Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love; there I had fixed Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain® desire,’

futile

Had not a voice thus warned me, ‘What thou seest,

What there thou seest fair creature is thyself, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow stays° Thy coming, and thy soft embraces, he Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear Multitudes like thyself, and thence be called

hinders

Mother of human race’: what could I do,

But follow straight® invisibly thus led?

at once

Till I espied thee, fair indeed and tall,

Under a platan,° yet methought less fair,

plane tree

Less winning soft, less amiably mild, 480

Than that smooth wat’ry image; back I turned, Thou following cried’st aloud, ‘Return fair Eve,

Whom fli’st thou? Whom thou fli’st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent

Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart Substantial life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual? solace dear; Part of my soul I seek thee, and thee claim

490

inseparable, distinct

My other half’: with that thy gentle hand Seized mine, I yielded, and from that time see How beauty is excelled by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.”

500

So spake our general mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreproved, And meek surrender, half embracing leaned On our first father, half her swelling breast Naked met his under the flowing gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her beauty and submissive charms Smiled with superior love, as Jupiter On Juno smiles, when he impregns?® the clouds That shed May flowers; and pressed her matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turned For envy, yet with jealous leer malign Eyed them askance, and to himself thus plained. “Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadised in one another’s arms The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill

impregnates

complained

Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, 510

Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, 7. Eve's experience reprises (but with significant differences) the story of Narcissus, who fell in love with his own reflection and was transformed into a flower.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

Still® unfulfilled with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gained

4

|

1565

always

From their own mouths; all is not theirs it seems:

One fatal tree there stands of Knowledge called, Forbidden them to taste: knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy° them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance, is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin! Hence | will excite their minds With more desire to know, and to reject

begrudge

Envious commands, invented with design 525

To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This garden, and no corner leave unspied; A chance, but chance® may lead where | may meet Some wand ring Spirit of Heav’n, by fountain side, Or in thick shade retired, from him to draw

535

What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed.” So saying, his proud step he scornful turned, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o’er hill, o'er dale his roam.° Meanwhile in utmost longitude, where heav’n®

act of wandering the sky

With earth and ocean meets, the setting sun Slowly descended, and with right aspéct Against the eastern gate of Paradise Leveled his evening rays.’ It was a rock Of alabaster,! piled up to the clouds, Conspicuous far, winding with one ascent Accessible from earth, one entrance high;

550

The rest was craggy cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climb. Betwixt these rocky pillars Gabriel? sat Chief of th’ angelic guards, awaiting night; About him exercised heroic games Th’ unarméd youth of Heav’n, but nigh at hand Celestial armory, shields, helms, and spears

555

Hung high with diamond flaming, and with gold. Thither came Uriel, gliding through the even On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star In autumn thwarts? the night, when vapors fired Impress the air, and shows the mariner From what point of his compass to beware 8. An opportunity, even if only by luck.

9, Setting in the west, the sun struck the eastern gate from the inside, at a ninety-degree angle.

passes across

1. White, translucent marble veined with colors.

2. In Hebrew, “strength of God.” A tradition ean, al Enoch 20.7) gave Gabriel charge of Paradise.

1566

s60

wi lonwi

|

JOHN

MILTON

Impetuous winds:? he thus began in haste. “Gabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath giv’n Charge and strict watch that to this happy place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at height of noon came to my sphere A Spirit, zealous, as he seemed, to know

More of th’ Almighty’s works, and chiefly man God’s latest image: I described° his way Bent all on speed, and marked his airy gait;°

descried, observed path

But in the mount that lies from Eden north,

570

a7) 7]

Where he first lighted, soon discerned his looks Alien from Heav’n, with passions foul obscured: Mine eye pursued him still, but under shade® Lost sight of him; one of the banished crew I fear, hath ventured from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find.” To whom the winged warrior thus returned: “Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight,

trees

Amid the sun’s bright circle where thou sitt’st,

580

See far and wide. In at this gate’ none pass ‘The vigilance here placed, but such as come Well known from Heav’n; and since meridian hour®

vwce ) wi)

noon

No creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have o’erleaped these earthy bounds On purpose, hard thou know’st it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal bar. But if within the circuit of these walks,

In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou tell’st, by morrow dawning I shall know.”

s00

So promised he, and Uriel to his charge Returned on that bright beam, whose point now raised Bore him slope downward to the sun now fall’n Beneath th’ Azorés; whether the prime orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rolled Diurnal,° or this less voliible® earth

595

600

daily / swift-turning

By shorter flight to th’ east,* had left him there Arraying with reflected purple and gold The clouds that on his western throne attend. Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied, for beast and bird,

They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;

605

She all night long her amorous descant® sung; Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament With living sapphires: Hesperus? that led

melody

The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon

Rising in clouded majesty, at length 3. Shooting stars were thought to indicate by the direction of their fall the source of oncoming storms. “Vapors fired”: heat lightning. 4. Here and elsewhere Milton leaves open the

question of whether the sun moves around the earth, or vice versa. 5. Called Venus when it appears in the evening sky.

PARADISE

610

615

625

630

LOST,

Apparent® queen unveiled her peerless light, And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw. When Adam thus to Eve: “Fair consort, th’ hour Of night, and all things now retired to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labor and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eyelids; other creatures all day long Rove idle unemployed, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his dignity, And the regard of Heav’n on all his ways; While other animals unactive range, And of their doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh morning streak the east With first approach of light, we must be ris’n, And at our pleasant labor, to reform Yon flow’ry arbors, yonder alleys green, Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring,° and require More hands than ours to lop their wanton® growth: Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums, That lie bestrown unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance,° if we mean to tread with ease;

BOOK

4

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1567

clearly seen

cultivating luxuriant

need to be cleared

Meanwhile, as nature wills, night bids us rest.”

640

To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorned. “My author and disposer, what thou bidd’st Unargued I obey; so God ordains, God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time. All seasons® and their change, all please alike. Sweet® is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm’ of earliest birds; pleasant the sun When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient® beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow’r,

645

lustrious, eastern

Glist’ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild, then silent night With this her solemn bird? and this fair moon,

650

times of day

the nightingale

And these the gems of heav’n, her starry train: But neither breath of morn when she ascends With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow’r,

Glist’ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,

Or glittering starlight without thee is sweet.

6. With this embedded lyric, beginning here, Eve displays her literary talents in an elegant love song, sonnetlike and replete with striking

and repetition. rhetorical figures of circularity 7. Blended singing of many birds.

1568

660

665

|

JOHN

MILTON

But wherefore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?” To whom our general ancestor replied. “Daughter of God and man, accomplished® Eve, Those have their course to finish, round the earth, By morrow evening, and from land to land In order, though to nations yet unborn, Minist’ring light prepared, they set and rise; Lest total darkness should by night regain Her old possession, and éxctingnteh life In nature and all things, which these soft° fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly°® heat

Of various influence foment® and warm,

agreeable natural, benevolent

foster

Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow On earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the sun’s more potent ray.’ These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav’n would want® spectators, God want praise;

lack

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: 680

All these with ceaseless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air,

Sole, or responsive each to other’s note Singing their great Creator: oft in bands While hey keep watch, or nightly rounding walk, With heav’nly touch of instrumental sounds In full harmonic number joined, their songs Divide! the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven.” 690

695

Thus talking hand in hand alone they passed On to their blissful bower; it was a place Chos’n by the sov’reign Planter, when he framed® All things to man’s delightful use; the roof Of thickest covert was inwoven shade Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side Acanthus, and each odorous bushy shrub Fenced up the verdant wall; each beauteous flow’, Iris all hues, roses, and jessamine®

Reared high their flourished® heads between, and wrought 700

fashioned

jasmine

flowering

Mosaic; underfoot the violet,

Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay Broidered the ground, more colored than with stone Of costliest emblem:° other creature here

inlaid work

Beast, bird, insect, or worm durst enter none, 8. Having many talents and achievements; percomplete. The ere

stars were influence,

thought

to have their own

and also to moderate

that of

Be:sun. Mark the watches of the night; also, perform haat ‘divisions,” elaborate melodic passages.

PARADISE 705

BOOK

4.

|

1569

Such was their awe of man. In shadier bower

710

“I

LOST,

vi

720

More sacred and sequestered,° though but feigned, Pan or Silvanus never slept, nor nymph, Nor Faunus? haunted. Here in close recess With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs Espoused Eve decked first her nuptial bed, And heav'nly choirs the hymenean® sung, What day the genial* angel to our sire Brought her in naked beauty more adorned, More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods Endowed with all their gifts, and O too like In sad event,° when to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she ensnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove’s authentic fire.* Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both stood,

secluded

wedding song

outcome

Both turned, and under open sky adored

The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heav'n Which they beheld, the moon’s resplendent globe And starry pole:° “Thou also mad’st the night, ~ re)Ji

730

sky

Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day,

Which we in our appointed work employed Have finished happy in our mutual help And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss Ordained by thee, and this delicious place +For us too large, where thy abundance wants Partakers, and uncropped falls to the ground. But thou hast promised from us two a race To fill the earth, who shall with us extol Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake,

“I Ww wi

And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep.” This said unanimous, and other rites Observing none, but adoration pure Which God likes best,’ into their inmost bow’r

740

Handed? they went; and eased® the putting off These troublesome disguises which we wear, Straight side by side were laid, nor turned I ween® Adam from his fair spouse, nor Eve the rites

745

hand in hand / spared surmise

Mysterious® of connubial love refused: Whatever hypocrites austerely talk Of purity and place and innocence, Defaming as impure what God declares Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all. 2. Forest and field divinities of classical mythology. 3. Presiding over marriage and generation.

4. Pandora (the name means “all gifts”) was an artificial woman, molded of clay, bestowed by the gods on Epimetheus, brother of Prometheus (who angered Jove by stealing fire from heaven). She brought a box that foolish Epimetheus opened, releasing all the ills of the human race, leaving only hope inside. The brothers were sons of lapetos, whom Milton identifies with Japhet,

Noah’s third son. The Eve-Pandora parallel was often noted. 5, Like many Puritans, Milton objected to set forms of prayer, so Adam and Eve pray spontaneously (therefore sincerely), but also, paradoxically, together. Their prayer develops variations on Psalm 104.20—24. 6. Ephesians 5.32 calls the union of man and woman a “mystery” paralleling that of Christ and the church.

1570

|

JOHN

MILTON

Our Maker bids increase,’ who bids abstain But our destroyer, foe to God and man? 750

755

Hail wedded Love, mysterious law, true source

Of human offspring, sole propriety° In Paradise of all things common else. By thee adulterous lust was driv’n from men Among the bestial herds to range, by thee Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, Relations dear, and all the charities°

private property

loves

Of father, son, and brother first were known. Far be it, that I should write thee sin or blame, 760

Or think thee unbefitting holiest place, Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, Whose bed is undefiled and chaste pronounced, Present, or past, as saints and patriarchs used.® Here Love his golden shafts employs,’ here lights His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, Reigns here and revels; not in the bought smile Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared, Casual fruition, nor in court amours,

Mixed dance, or wanton masque, or midnight ball, Or serenade, which the starved? lover sings To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain. These lulled by nightingales embracing slept, And on their naked limbs the flow’ry roof

NI NI vi

780

deprived

Show’red roses, which the morn repaired.° Sleep on,

replaced

Blest pair; and O yet happiest if ye seek No happier state, and know to know no more.! Now had night measured with her shadowy cone Halfway up hill this vast sublunar vault,” And from their ivory port the Cherubim Forth issuing at th’ accustomed hour stood armed To their night watches in warlike parade, When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake: “Uzziel,* half these draw off, and coast°® the south

skirt

With strictest watch; these other wheel* the north,

Our circuit meets full west.” As flame they part Half wheeling to the shield, half to the spear. From these, two strong and subtle Spirits he called That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge: “Ithuriel and Zephon,’ with winged speed Search through this garden, leave unsearched no nook, But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge, Now laid perhaps asleep secure of° harm. 7. Genesis

1.28: “Be fruitful and multiply, and

replenish the earth.” 8. Throughout history (“present or past”), Old and New Testament worthies have “used” matrimony as a noble estate. 9. The “golden shafts” (arrows) of Cupid produce true love, his lead-tipped arrows, hate. 1. Know enough to be content with what you know. i

from

2. The conical shadow cast by the earth has moved halfway up to its zenith, so it is 9 p.m., the end of the first three-hour watch. 3. Hebrew, “my strength is God.”

4. “Wheel”:

turn

to (military

term);

“shield”

(line 785) is left, “spear” is right. 5. Hebrew, “a looking out.” “Ithuriel”: Hebrew, “discovery of God.”

RAIRADIESIE

WEk@ Sty,

This evening from the sun’s decline arrived Who* tells of some infernal Spirit seen Hitherward bent; who could have thought? escaped

BOOK

4

|

1571

one who

The bars of Hell, on errand bad no doubt:

800

Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring.” So saying, on he led his radiant files, Dazzling the moon; these to the bower direct In search of whom they sought: him there they found Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve; Assaying® by his devilish art to reach The organs of her fancy,° and with them forge Illusions as he list,° phantasms and dreams; Or if, inspiring? venom, he might taint Th’ animal spirits that from pure blood arise Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise At least distempered,° discontented thoughts, Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires

810

815

Blown up with high conceits® engend’ring pride. Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear Touched lightly; for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper,’ but returns Of force to its own likeness: up he starts Discovered and surprised. As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder,® laid Fit for the tun some magazine to store Against a rumored war, the smutty° grain

attempting

pleased breathing

disordered notions

black

With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air: 820

So started up in his own shape the Fiend. Back stepped those two fair angels half amazed So sudden to behold the grisly king; Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon:

“Which of those rebel Spirits adjudged to Hell Com’st thou, escaped thy prison; and transformed, Why sat’st thou like an enemy in wait Here watching at the head of these that sleep?” “Know ye not then,” said Satan, filled with scorn,

830

835

“Know ye not me? Ye knew me once no mate For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar; Not to know me argues® yourselves unknown, The lowest of your throng; or if ye know, Why ask ye, and superfluous begin Your message, like to end as much in vain?” To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn:

proves

“Think not, revolted Spirit, thy shape the same, Or undiminished brightness, to be known As when thou stood’st in Heav’n upright and pure; That glory then, when thou no more wast good, Departed from thee, and thou resembl’st now 6. The faculty of forming mental images. 7. Anything, like the spear, made

(“tempered”)

in Heaven.

8. Alights or kindles (“lights”) gunpowder (“nitrous

powder”), ready (next lines) to be stored in some barrel (“tun”) laid up in some storehouse (“maga-

zine”), in preparation for (“against”) rumors of war.

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Thy sin and place of doom obscure® and foul. But come, for thou, be sure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep

dark

This place inviolable, and these from harm.” So spake the Cherub, and his grave rebuke 845

Severe in youthful beauty, added grace

850

And felt how awful® goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely, saw, and pined® His loss; but chiefly to find here observed His luster visibly impaired; yet seemed

Invincible: abashed the Devil stood, awe-inspiring

mourned

Undaunted. “If Imust contend,” said he, “Best with the best, the sender not the sent,

855

860

Or all at once; more glory will be won, Or less be lost.” “Thy fear,” said Zephon bold, “Will save us trial what the least can do Single® against thee wicked, and thence weak.” The Fiend replied not, overcome with rage; But like a proud steed reined, went haughty on, Champing his iron curb: to strive or fly He held it vain; awe from above had quelled His heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just met, and closing stood in squadron joined Awaiting next command. To whom their chief Gabriel from the front thus called aloud:

in single combat

“O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet

Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade,° And with them comes a third of regal port,° But faded splendor wan;° who by his gait And fierce demeanor seems the Prince of Hell, Not likely to part hence without contést; Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours.” ° He scarce had ended, when those two approached And brief related whom they brought, where found, How busied, in what form and posture couched. To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake:

trees bearing faint, dark

frowns

“Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribed

To thy transgressions, and disturbed the charge® Of others, who approve not to transgress By thy example, but have power and right To question thy bold entrance on this place; Employed it seems to violate sleep, and those Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss?” To whom thus Satan, with contemptuous brow: “Gabriel, thou hadst in Heav’n th’ esteem® of wise,

890

And such I held thee; but this question asked Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain? Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell, Though thither doomed? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt, And boldly venture to whatever place

responsibility

reputation of being

PARADISE

EO'ST,

Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change®

BOOK

4

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Sze)

exchange

Torment with ease, and soonest recompense 895

900

905

910

915

920

925

930

Dole® with delight, which in this place I sought; To thee no reason, who know’st only good, But evil hast not tried: and wilt object? His will who bound us? Let him surer bar His iron gates, if he intends our stay In that dark durance:° thus much what was asked.! The rest is true, they found me where they say; But that implies not violence or harm.” Thus he in scorn. The warlike angel moved, Disdainfully half smiling thus replied: “O loss of one in Heav’n to judge of wise, Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew,’ And now returns him from his prison scaped, Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wise Or not, who ask what boldness brought him hither Unlicensed from his bounds in Hell prescribed; So wise he judges it to fly from pain However,’ and to scape his punishment. So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrath, Which thou incurr’st by flying, meet thy flight Sevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell, Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain Can equal anger infinite provoked. But wherefore thou alone? Wherefore with thee Came not all Hell broke loose? Is pain to them Less pain, less to be fled, or thou than they Less hardy to endure? Courageous chief, The first in flight from pain, hadst thou alleged To thy deserted host this cause of flight, Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive.” To which the Fiend thus answered frowning stern:

pain, grief

confinement

howsoever

“Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain,

Insulting angel, well thou know’st I stood® Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid The blasting volleyed thunder made all speed And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. But still thy words at random, as before, Argue thy inexperience what behoves From® hard assays° and ill successes past

withstood

after / attempts

A faithful leader, not to hazard all

Through ways of danger by himself untried. 935

I therefore, I alone first undertook

To wing the desolate abyss, and spy This new-created world, whereof in Hell

Fame? is not silent, here in hope to find Better abode, and my afflicted powers°®

9. Put forward as an objection.

1. I.e., thus much (answers) what was asked.

2. Irony: “O what a loss to Heaven to lose such a

rumor downcast

armies

judge of wisdom as Satan, whose folly led to his fall.”

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To settle here on earth, or in midair;? Though for possession put® to try once more What thou and thy gay° legions dare against; Whose easier business were to serve their Lord High up in Heav’n, with songs to hymn his throne, And practiced distances to cringe, not fight.” To whom the warrior angel soon replied:

forced showy

“To say and straight unsay, pretending first Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 950

Argues no leader, but a liar traced,° Satan, and couldst thou faithful add? O name,

found out

O sacred name of faithfulness profaned! Faithful to whom? To thy rebellious crew? Army of fiends, fit body to fit head; Was this your discipline and faith engaged, Your military obedience, to dissolve Allegiance to th’ acknowledged Power Supreme? And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more than thou Once fawned, and cringed, and servilely adored 960

Heav’n’s awful Monarch?? Wherefore but in hope To dispossess him, and thyself to reign? But mark what I areed® thee now, avaunt;° Fly thither whence thou fledd’st: if from this hour

advise / hegone

Within these hallowed limits thou appear, 965

Back to th’ infernal pit I drag thee chained, And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn

The facile® gates of Hell too slightly barred.” So threatened he, but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing® more in rage replied: 970

980

easily moved growing

“Then when I am thy captive talk of chains, Proud limitary® Cherub, but ere then Far heavier load thyself expect to feel From my prevailing arm, though Heaven’s King Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, Used to the yoke, draw’st his triumphant wheels In progress through the road of heav’n star-paved.” While thus he spake, th’ angelic squadron bright Turned fiery red, sharp’ning in moonéd horns’ Their phalanx, and began to hem him round With ported® spears, as thick as when a field Of Ceres? ripe for harvest waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Sways them; the careful plowman doubting stands Lest on the threshing floor his hopeful sheaves 3. Satan will become “prince of the power of the air” (Ephesians 2.2). 4. Satan contemptuously parallels the angels’ courtly deference (“distances”) before God’s throne and keeping a safe distance from battle. “Cringe”: bow or kneel in fear or servility. 5. See 5.617 for Satan’s “servile” adoration on the day of the Son’s exaltation, when he “seemed

well pleased” but was not. 6. Frontier guard, also, one of limited authority. 7. A crescent-shaped military formation. : 8. Held slantwise in front. 9. Roman goddess of grain; here, the grain itself. A Homeric simile compares an excited army to windswept corn (Iliad 2.147—50).

PARADIS'E

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COST;

BiOlOn

Prove chaff. On th’ other side Satan alarmed° Collecting all his might dilated stood, Like Tenerife or Atlas! unremoved:°

Ss

|

SHES)

called to arms

unremovable

His stature reached the sky, and on his crest 990

Sat Horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp What seemed both spear and shield: now dreadful deeds Might have ensued, nor only Paradise In this commotion, but the starry cope® Of Heav’n perhaps, or all the elements At least had gone to wrack, disturbed and torn

vault

With violence of this conflict, had not soon

1000

1005

Th’ Eternal to prevent such horrid fray Hung forth in Heav’n his golden scales, yet seen Betwixt Astraea and the Scorpion sign,” Wherein all things created first he weighed, The pendulous round earth with balanced air In counterpoise, now ponders all events, Battles and realms: in these he put two weights The sequel each of parting and of fight;? The latter quick up flew, and kicked the beam; Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the Fiend: “Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know’st mine,

Neither our own but giv’n; what folly then To boast what arms can do, since thine no more 1010

Than Heav’n permits, nor mine, though doubled now To trample thee as mire: for proof look up, And read thy lot in yon celestial sign Where thou art weighed, and shown how light, how weak,’

If thou resist.” The Fiend looked up and knew His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled 1015

Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.

Book 5 The Argument Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her: they come forth to their day labors: their morning hymn at the door of their bower. God to render man inexcusable sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand; who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise, his appearance described, his coming discerned by Adam afar off sitting at the door of his bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of 1. A mountain in Morocco. “Tenerife”: a mountain in the Canary Islands. 2. The zodiac sign Libra, represented by a pair of scales,

is

between

Virgo

(identified

with

Astraea, goddess ofJustice, who fled the earth at the end of the Golden Age) and Scorpio.

3. In several classical epic similes the fates of

opposing heroes are weighed in scales by the gods, but here God “ponders” (weighs the consequences of) all events, including parting or fighting. Battle, desired by Satan, proves lighter (“kicked the beam,” line 1004).

4. Cf. Daniel 5.27: “Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.”

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Paradise got together by Eve; their discourse at table: Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state and of his enemy; relates at Adam’s request who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first revolt in heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with him, persuading all but only Abdiel a Seraph, who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him.

Now Morn her rosy steps in th’ eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,°

sparkling dew

When Adam waked, so customed, for his sleep vi

Was aery light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapors bland,° which th’ only sound

gentle, balmy

Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora’s fan,!

10

Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin°® song Of birds on every bough; so much the more His wonder was to find unwakened Eve With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, As through unquiet rest: he on his side Leaning half-raised, with looks of cordial° love Hung over her enamored, and beheld Beauty, which whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar® graces; then with voice Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora? breathes, Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: “Awake

morning

heartfelt

its own

My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,

Heav’n’s last best gift, my ever new delight, Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field

te an

30

Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended plants, how blows° the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed,° How nature paints her colors, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.”? Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake: “O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, My glory, my perfection, glad I see Thy face, and morn returned, for I this night, Such night till this I never passed, have dreamed, If dreamed, not as I oft am wont,° of thee,

Works of day past, or morrow’s next design, But of offense and trouble, which my mind Knew never till this irksome night. Methought Close at mine ear one called me forth to walk With gentle voice, I thought it thine; it said, ‘Why sleep’st thou Eve? Now is the pleasant time, 1. Rustling leaves and streams (“rills”) stirred by Aurora, goddess of the dawn. 2. Zephyrus is god of the gentle west wind, Flora goddess of flowers. 3. Adam sings a morning love song (aubade) to Eve, which works variations on Song of Solomon

blooms balsam

accustomed

2.1012: “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. ... The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come.” Compare Satan’s serenade (5.38—47), a parody of Adam’s aubade and the Song of Solomon. “Prime” (line 21): first hour of the day.

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The cool, the silent, save where silence yields 40

45

To the night-warbling bird, that now awake Tunes sweetest his love-labored song; now reigns Full-orbed the moon, and with more pleasing light Shadowy sets off the face of things, in vain, If none regard; heav’n wakes with all his eyes,° Whom to behold but thee, nature’s desire, In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment Attracted by thy beauty still° to gaze.’ I rose as at thy call, but found thee not; To find thee I directed then my walk; And on, me thought, alone I passed through ways That brought me on a sudden to the tree Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seemed, Much fairer to my fancy than by day: And as I wond’ring looked, beside it stood One shaped and winged like one of those from Heav’n By us oft seen; his dewy locks distilled Ambrosia;° on that tree he also gazed;

And ‘O fair plant,’ said he, ‘with fruit surcharged,° 60

Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet, Nor god,° nor man? Is knowledge so despised? Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste?*

Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold Longer thy offered good, why else set here?’ This said he paused not, but with vent’rous arm He plucked, he tasted; me damp horror chilled At such bold words vouched with® a deed so bold:

stars

continually

heavenly fragrance overburdened

angel

backed by

But he thus overjoyed, ‘O fruit divine,

Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropped, Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit

I

vi

For gods, yet able to make gods of men: And why not gods of men, since good, the more Communicated, more abundant grows, The author not impaired,’ but honored more? Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, Partake thou also; happy though thou art, Happier thou may’st be, worthier canst not be: Taste this, and be henceforth among the gods Thyself a goddess, not to earth confined, But sometimes

80

85

in the air, as we, sometimes

Ascend to Heav’n, by merit thine, and see What life the gods live there, and such live thou.’ So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held, Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part Which he had plucked; the pleasant savory smell So quickened appetite, that I, methought, Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds With him I flew, and underneath beheld The earth outstretched immense, a prospect wide 4, Le., does envy or some other barrier (“reserve”) forbid your being tasted?

injured, diminished

IS78

90

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105

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And various: wond’ring at my flight and change To this high exaltation: suddenly My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down, And fell asleep; but O how glad I waked To find this but a dream!” Thus Eve her night Related, and thus Adam answered sad.° “Best image of myself and dearer half, The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep Affects me equally; nor can I like This uncouth® dream, of evil sprung I fear; Yet evil whence? In thee can harbor none, Created pure. But know that in the soul Are many lesser faculties’ that serve Reason as chief; among these fancy next Her office holds; of all external things, Which the five watchful senses represent, She forms imaginations,° aery shapes, Which reason joining or disjoining, frames All what we affirm or what deny, and call Our knowledge or opinion; then retires Into her private cell when nature rests. Oft in her absence mimic fancy wakes To imitate her; but misjoining shapes, Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams, Ill matching words and deeds long past or late. Some such resemblances methinks I find Of our last evening’s talk in this thy dream,° But with addition strange; yet be not sad. Evil into the mind of god’ or man May come and go, so unapproved,® and leave No spot or blame behind: which gives me hope That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream, Waking thou never wilt consent to do.

gravely, soberly

strange, unpleasant

images

Be not disheartened then, nor cloud those looks

130

That wont to be° more cheerful and serene Than when fair morning first smiles on the world, And let us to our fresh employments rise Among the groves, the fountains, and the flow’rs That open now their choicest bosomed smells Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store.” So cheered he his fair spouse, and she was cheered, But silently a gentle tear let fall From either eye, and wiped them with her hair; Two other precious drops that ready stood, Each in their crystal sluice, he ere they fell Kissed as the gracious signs of sweet remorse 5. Adam’s explanation of the dream (lines 100— 116) summarizes the orthodox faculty psychology and dream theory of Milton’s time—one among many kinds of knowledge with which unfallen man was endowed. 6. Adam recalls his own words in 4.411—39.

usually are

7. Probably “angel” as elsewhere, but perhaps God, whose omniscience must encompass knowledge of evil as well as good. 8. If not willed (approved of) or not acted on (put to the proof),

PARADISE

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140

145

iso

iss

160

16s

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And pious awe, that feared to have offended. So all was cleared, and to the field they haste. But first from under shady arborous? roof, Soon as they forth were come to open sight Of day-spring,° and the sun, who scarce up risen With wheels yet hov'ring o’er the ocean brim, Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray, Discovering in wide landscape all the east

Of Paradise and Eden’s happy plains, Lowly they bowed adoring, and began Their orisons,° each morning duly paid In various style, for neither various style Nor holy rapture® wanted they to praise Their Maker, in fit strains pronounced or sung Unmeditated,’ such prompt eloquence Flowed from their lips, in prose or numerous’ verse, More tuneable® than needed lute or harp To add more sweetness, and they thus began: “These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,'

consisting oftrees

daybreak

prayers

ecstasy rhythmic melodious

Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then!

Unspeakable, who sitt’st above these heavens, To us invisible or dimly seen In these thy lowest works, yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine: Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies,° day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing, ye in Heav’n, On earth join all ye creatures to extol

music in parts

Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.

Fairest of stars,” last in the train® of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown’st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise

procession

In thy eternal course, both when thou climb’st,

And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall’st. i735

is0

Moon, that now meet’st the orient sun, now fli’st With the fixed stars, fixed in their orb that flies,

And ye five other wand’ring fires that move In mystic dance not without song,’ resound His praise, who out of darkness called up light. Air, and ye elements the eldest birth 9. In a variety of styles or forms of speech and song, which harmonize together but are at the same time impromptu, spontaneous, and ecstatic. 1. Their morning hymn works variations on Psalms 148, 104, and 19, as well as the canticle “Benedicite.”

2. Venus, the morning star and (as Hesperus) the evening star. 3. The planets, unlike the fixed stars, change their relative positions; their motion produces the music of the spheres, audible to unfallen humans.

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Of nature’s womb, that in quaternion* run Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix

And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still° new praise. Ye mists and exhalations that now rise

continually

From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,

Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honor to the world’s great Author rise, Whether to deck with clouds the uncolored sky, 190

195

200

Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains and ye, that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices all ye living souls: ye birds, That singing up to heaven gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade

Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 205

210

we

vw

Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still®

always

To give us only good; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.” So prayed they innocent, and to their thoughts Firm peace recovered soon and wonted calm. On to their morning's rural work they haste Among sweet dews and flow’rs; where any row Of fruit trees over-woody°® reached too far Their pampered boughs, and needed hands to check Fruitless embraces: or they led the vine To wed her elm;? she spoused about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dow’r th’ adopted clusters, to adorn His barren leaves. Them thus employed beheld With pity Heav’n’s high King, and to him called Raphael, the sociable Spirit, that deigned

too bushy

To travel with Tobias, and secured

His marriage with the seven-times-wedded maid.° “Raphael,” said he, “thou hear’st what stir on earth tw Ww va

Satan from Hell scaped through the darksome gulf Hath raised in Paradise, and how disturbed

This night the human pair, how he designs 4. The fourfold changing relationship of the four elements. 5. A familiar emblem of matrimony, the elm symbolizing masculine strength, and the vine, feminine fruitfulness, softness, and sweetness;

note,

however, the matriarchal implications of “adopted clusters” (line 218). 6. Raphael (in Hebrew, “health of God”) was the adviser of Tobias in winning his wife (see 4.168— 71 and note).

PARADISE

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In them at once to ruin all mankind. Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend Converse with Adam, in what bow’r or shade Thou find’st him from the heat of noon retired, To respite his day labor with repast, Or with repose; and such discourse bring on, As may advise him of his happy state, Happiness in his power left free to will, Left to his own free will, his will though free,

Yet mutable; whence warn him to beware He swerve not too secure:° tell him withal

overconfident

His danger, and from whom, what enemy 240 ~—Late fall’n himself from Heav’n, is plotting now The fall of others from like state of bliss; By violence, no, for that shall be withstood, But by deceit and lies; this let him know,

Lest wilfully transgressing he pretend?

plead

245

Surprisal, unadmonished, unforewarned.”

230

So spake th’ Eternal Father, and fulfilled All justice: nor delayed the wingéd saint°® After his charge received; but from among Thousand celestial ardors,’ where he stood Veiled with his gorgeous wings, up springing light

angel

Flew through the midst of Heav’n; th’ angelic choirs

255

On each hand parting, to his speed gave way Through all th’ empyreal road; till at the gate Of Heav’n arrived, the gate self-opened wide On golden hinges turning, as by work°® Divine the sov’reign Architect had framed.

mechanism

From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight, Star interposed, however small he sees,

200

Not unconform to other shining globes, Earth and the gard’n of God, with cedars crowned Above all hills. As when by night the glass°

telescope

Of Galileo, less assured, observes

265

Imagined lands and regions in the moon: Or pilot from amidst the Cyclades Delos or Samos first appearing kens° A cloudy spot.* Down thither prone? in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky

discerns

bent forward

Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing

Now on the polar wings, then with quick fan 270

~Winnows the buxom air; till within soar

Of tow’ring eagles,’ to all the fowls he seems A phoenix, gazed by all, as that sole bird When to enshrine his relics in the sun’s 7. Bright spirits burning in love; the Hebrew seraph means “to burn.” 8. The Cyclades are a circular group ofislands in the south Aegean Sea; the two islands seen as “spots” from within the archipelago are Delos (the traditional center but famous for having

floated adrift) and Samos (outside the group). 9. Raphael sails with steady wing, turns at the pole, beats (“fans”) with his wings the yielding (“buxom”) air, and then comes within range of the eagle's soaring flight.

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Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies.! At once on th’ eastern cliff of Paradise He lights, and to his proper shape returns A Seraph winged; six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments°® divine; the pair that clad Each shoulder broad, came mantling?® o’er his breast

280

i) oO vi

290

With regal ornament; the middle pair Girt like a starry zone® his waist, and round Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold And colors dipped in Heav’n; the third his feet Shadowed from either heel with feathered mail? Sky-tinctured grain.° Like Maia’s son? he stood, And shook his plumes, that heav’nly fragrance filled The circuit wide. Straight® knew him all the bands Of angels under watch; and to his state,° And to his message® high in honor rise; For on some message high they guessed him bound. Their glittering tents he passed, and now is come Into the blissful field; through groves of myrrh,

parts of the body draping belt

dye at once

rank mission

And flow’ring odors, cassia, nard, and balm;* A wilderness of sweets; for nature here

Wantoned’ as in her prime, and played? at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art; enormous? bliss.

reveled / acted out immense, beyond rule

Him through the spicy forest onward come Adam discerned, as in the door he sat? 300

Of his cool bow’r, while now the mounted sun Shot down direct his fervid rays, to warm Earth’s inmost womb, more warmth than Adam needs;

305

310

And Eve within, due® at her hour prepared For dinner savory fruits, of taste to please True appetite and not disrelish thirst, Of nectarous drafts between, from milky stream, Berry or grape: to whom thus Adam called: “Haste hither Eve, and worth thy sight behold Eastward among those trees, what glorious shape Comes this way moving; seems another morn Ris’n on mid-noon; some great behest from Heav’n To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe This day to be our guest. But go with speed, And what thy stores contain, bring forth and pour

fittingly

Abundance, fit to honor and receive

Our heav'nly stranger; well we may afford Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large bestowed, where nature multiplies Her fertile growth, and by disburd’ning grows 1. The phoenix was a mythical, unique (“sole”) bird that lived five hundred years, was consumed

by fire, and was reborn from the ashes, which it

then carried to the temple of the sun at Heliopolis in Egypt. 2. Plumage suggesting scale armor.

3. Mercury, messenger of the gods.

4. “Odors”: aromatic substances; “cassia”: cinnamon; “nard”: spikenard; “balm”: balsam—all were used to make perfumed ointments. 5. Raphael’s visit to Adam is modeled on Abraham’s entertainment of three angels (Genesis 18.1—16).

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More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare.” To whom thus Eve: “Adam, earth’s hallowed mold,°

Of God inspired, small store will serve, where store,’ All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk; Save what by frugal storing firmness gains To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes:

But I will haste and from each bough and brake Each plant and juiciest gourd will pluck such choice To entertain our angel guest, as he

335

Beholding shall confess that here on earth God hath dispensed his bounties as in Heav’n.” So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order, so contrived as not to mix Tastes, not well joined, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld® with kindliest° change, Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk Whatever earth all-bearing mother yields In India east or west, or middle shore

maintained / most natural

In Pontus or the Punic coast,® or where

Alcinous reigned, fruit of all kinds, in coat, Rough, or smooth-rined, or bearded husk, or shell She gathers, tribute large, and on the board Heaps with unsparing hand; for drink the grape 345

She crushes, inoffensive must, and meaths”

From many a berry, and from sweet kernels pressed She tempers® dulcet creams, nor these to hold Wants? her fit vessels pure, then strews the ground

blends lacks

With rose and odors from the shrub unfumed.! Meanwhile our primitive® great sire, to meet

His godlike guest, walks forth, without more train® Accompanied than with his own complete Perfections, in himself was all his state,° 355

360

More solemn® than the tedious pomp that waits On princes, when their rich retinue long Of horses led, and grooms besmeared with gold Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape. Nearer his presence Adam though not awed, Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, As to a superior nature, bowing low,

original attendants

dignity, authority awe-inspiring

Thus said: “Native of Heav’n, for other place:

None can than Heav’n such glorious shape contain; Since by descending from the thrones above, Those happy places thou hast deigned® a while 365

To want,° and honor these, vouchsafe with us

6. Revered shape of earth’s substance. The name “Adam” signifies red earth. 7. A great quantity. “Small store”: few stored foods. 8. The “middle shore” includes Pontus, the south coast of the Black Sea, famous for nuts and fruits, and the “Punic” (Carthaginian) coast of North

condescended

be parted from

Africa on the Mediterranean, famous for figs; the gardens of Alcinous (next line) are described in the Odyssey 7.113—21 as perpetually fruitful. 9, Meads, drinks sweetened with honey. “Must”: unfermented fruit juice. 1. Naturally scented, not burned forincense.

1584

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JOHN

MILTON

Two only, who yet by sov’reign gift possess This spacious ground, in yonder shady bow’r

370

To rest, and what the garden choicest bears To sit and taste, till this meridian® heat Be over, and the sun more cool decline.”

noontime

Whom thus the angelic Virtue* answered mild: “Adam, I therefore came, nor art thou such Created, or such place hast here to dwell,

As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heav’n 375

380

To visit thee; lead on then where thy bow’r O’ershades; for these mid-hours, till evening rise

I have at will.” So to the sylvan lodge They came, that like Pomona’s? arbor smiled With flow’rets decked® and fragrant smells; but Eve Undecked, save with herself more lovely fair Than wood nymph, or the fairest goddess feigned

covered

Of three that in Mount Ida naked strove,*

Stood to entertain her guest from Heav’n; no veil She needed, virtue-proof,? no thought infirm Altered her cheek. On whom the Angel “Hail” Bestowed, the holy salutation used Long after to blest Mary, second Eve.’

armored in virtue

“Hail mother of mankind, whose fruitful womb 390

400

Shall fill the world more numerous with thy sons Than with these various fruits the trees of God Have heaped this table.” Raised of grassy turf Their table was, and mossy seats had round, And on her ample square from side to side All autumn piled, though spring and autumn here Danced hand in hand. A while discourse they hold; No fear lest dinner cool; when thus began Our author:° “Heav’nly stranger, please to taste These bounties which our Nourisher, from whom All perfect good unmeasured out, descends, To us for food and for delight hath caused The earth to yield; unsavory food perhaps

forefather

To spiritual natures; only this I know,

405

That one Celestial Father gives to all.” To whom the angel: “Therefore what he gives (Whose praise be ever sung) to man in part Spiritual, may of° purest Spirits be found

No ingrateful food: and food alike those pure Intelligential substances require® 2. Milton uses these angelic titles freely, in the Protestant manner, not as designations of the nine traditional orders (Raphael was called “Ser-

aph” at line 277). 3. The Roman goddess of fruit trees. 4. On Mount Ida, Venus, Juno, and Minerva “strove” naked for the title of the most beautiful;

Paris awarded the prize (the apple of discord) to Venus, which led to the rape of Helen and the Trojan War.

5. Cf. the angel’s words to Mary announcing that

by

she would bear a son, Jesus (Luke 1.28): “Hail,

thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.” 6. Milton’s angels (“intelligential substances”) require real food, even as “rational” men do below, lines 430-38). As a monist (believer all creation is of one matter), Milton denied more common (dualistic) idea that angels

(see that the are

pure spirit, holding instead that they are of a very highly refined material substance.

PARADISE

410

EOSTS

BOOK?S

|

1585

As doth your rational; and both contain Within them every lower faculty Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste, Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate,’

And corporeal to incorporeal turn. For know, whatever was created, needs

41s

‘To be sustained and fed; of elements The grosser feeds the purer, earth the sea, Earth and the sea feed air, the air those fires Ethereal, and as lowest first the moon;

420

Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurged Vapors not yet into her substance turned.§ Nor doth the moon no nourishment exhale From her moist continent to higher orbs.? The sun that light imparts to all, receives From all his alimental° recompense

425

In humid exhalations, and at even

430

Sups with the ocean:! though in Heav’n the trees Of life ambrosial° fruitage bear, and vines Yield nectar,* though from off the boughs each morn We brush mellifluous® dews, and find the ground Covered with pearly grain; yet God hath here

435

nourishing

divinely fragrant

honey-flowing

Varied his bounty so with new delights, As may compare with Heaven; and to taste Think not I shall be nice.”° So down they sat, And to their viands fell, nor seemingly° The angel, nor in mist, the common gloss°® Of theologians, but with keen dispatch Of real hunger, and concoctive® heat

fastidious, finicky

in show explanation

digestive

To transubstantiate;? what redounds, transpires

440

445

Through Spirits with ease; nor wonder, if by fire Of sooty coal the empiric® alchemist Can turn, or holds it possible to turn Metals of drossiest ore to perfect gold As from the mine. Meanwhile at table Eve Ministered naked, and their flowing cups With pleasant liquors crowned.° O innocence Deserving Paradise! if ever, then, Then had the Sons of God excuse t’ have been Enamored at that sight,* but in those hearts Love unlibidinous® reigned, nor jealousy 7. Three stages in digestion. 8. Here Raphael describes lunar spots as stillundigested vapors (in keeping with his exposition of the universal need of nourishment); in 1.287—-91 he referred to moon spots in Galileo's terms, as landscape features. 9. A double negative: the moon does exhale such nourishment to other planets. 1. Milton explains evaporation as the sun dining off moisture exhaled from the oceans. 2. Ambrosia is the food and nectar the drink of the classical gods; Milton adds “pearly grain” (line 430), like the manna showered on the Israelites in the desert (Exodus 16.14—15).

experimental

filled to the brim

without lust

3. In common theological use, transubstantiation is the Roman Catholic doctrine that the bread and wine of the Eucharist become the body and blood of Christ. Milton vigorously denied that doctrine, but he describes the angels’ transforming of earthly food into their more highly refined spiritual substance as a true transubstantiation. The excess (“what redounds”) is exhaled (“transpires”)

through angelic pores. 4. Genesis 6.2 tells of the marriage of “the daughters of men” with “the sons of God,” usually identified as sons of Seth, but a patristic tradition

angels.

(alluded

to here)

identifies

them

as

1586

|

JOHN

MILTON

Was understood, the injured lover’s hell. Thus when with meats and drinks they had sufficed, Not burdened nature, sudden mind arose

In Adam, not to let th’ occasion pass Given him by this great conference to know Of things above his world, and of their being Who dwell in Heav’n, whose excellence he saw Transcend his own so far, whose radiant forms

460

Divine effulgence,° whose high power so far Exceeded human, and his wary speech Thus to th’ empyreal minister he framed:

shining forth

“Inhabitant with God, now know I well Thy favor, in this honor done to man,

465

Under whose lowly roof thou hast vouchsafed To enter and these earthly fruits to taste, Food not of angels, yet accepted so, As that more willingly thou couldst not seem At Heav’n’s high feasts t’ have fed: yet what compare?” To whom the wingéd hierarch?® replied: “O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom All things proceed, and up to him return, If not depraved from good, created all

authority

Such to perfection, one first matter all,”

Endued with various forms, various degrees Of substance, and in things that live, of life; But more

480

485

refined, more

spiritous, and pure,

As nearer to him placed or nearer tending Each in their several active spheres assigned, Till body up to spirit work, in bounds Proportioned to each kind.° So from the root Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves More airy, last the bright consummate flow’r Spirits odorous breathes:’ flow’rs and their fruit Man’s nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed® To vital spirits aspire, to animal,

purified

To intellectual, give both life and sense,

Fancy® and understanding, whence the soul

imagination

Reason receives, and reason is her being, Discursive, or intuitive;® discourse

5. Milton held that the universe was created out of Chaos, not out of nothing: the primal matter of Chaos had its origin in God, who subsequently created all things from that matter (see 7.168— 73, 210-42), This materialist “monism” denies sharp

distinctions

between

angels

and

men,

spirit and matter: all beings are of one substance, of varying degrees of refinement and life. 6. Milton's version of the chain of being qualifies natural hierarchy by allowing for movement up or down; beings may become increasingly spiritual (“more spiritous”) or increasingly gross (as the rebel angels do), depending on their moral choices—“nearer tending.” 7. The plant figure—root, stalk, leaves, flowers,

and fruit—provides an illustration of the dyna-

mism of being in the universe and further explains why Raphael can eat the fruit. Such food is then transformed (next lines) into various orders of “spirits” —“vital,” “animal,” and “intellectual” (fluids in the blood that sustain life, sensation, motion, and finally intellect and its functions, “fancy,” “understanding,” and “reason’), indicating that the soul is also material. 8. Traditionally, on the dualist assumption that angels are pure spirit and humans a combination of matter and spirit, angelic intuition (immediate

apprehension of truth) was absolutely distinguished from human “discourse” of reason (arguing from premises to conclusions). Milton, denying that assumption, makes the distinction only relative, a matter of “degree” (line 490),

PARADISE

LOST,

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1587

Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours, 490

Differing but in degree, of kind the same. Wonder not then, what God for you saw good If Irefuse not, but convert, as you, To proper® substance; time may come when men

495

500

505

With angels may participate, and find No inconvenient diet, nor too light fare: And from these corporal nutriments perhaps Your bodies may at last turn all to spirit, Improved by tract® of time, and winged ascend Ethereal as we, or may at choice Here or in heav’nly paradises dwell; If ye be found obedient, and retain Unalterably firm his love entire Whose progeny you are. Meanwhile enjoy Your fill what happiness this happy state Can comprehend, incapable® of more.” To whom the patriarch of mankind replied: “O favorable Spirit, propitious guest, Well hast thou taught the way that might direct

our

own

passage

unable to contain

Our knowledge, and the scale of nature set 510

515

520

525

From

center

to circumference,

whereon

In contemplation of created things By steps we may ascend to God. But say, What meant that caution joined, ‘If ye be found Obedient’? Can we want° obedience then To him, or possibly his love desert Who formed us from the dust, and placed us here Full to the utmost measure of what bliss Human desires can seek or apprehend?” To whom the angel: “Son of Heav’n and earth, Attend: that thou art happy, owe® to God; That thou continu’st such, owe to thyself, That is, to thy obedience; therein stand. This was that caution giv’n thee; be advised. God made thee perfect, not immutable;° And good he made thee, but to persevere He left it in thy power, ordained thy will By nature free, not overruled by fate

lack

attribute

unchangeable

Inextricable, or strict necessity,

Our voluntary service he requires, 530

Not our necessitated, such with him

Finds no acceptance, nor can find, for how Can hearts, not free, be tried whether they serve Willing or no, who will but what they must By destiny, and can no other choose?

Myself and all th’ angelic host that stand In sight of God enthroned, our happy state Hold, as you yours, while our obedience holds;

On other surety® none; freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will 540

To love or not; in this we stand or fall:

guarantee

1588

vi aS wi

|

JOHN

MILTON

And some are fall’n, to disobedience fall’n, And so from Heav’n to deepest Hell; O fall From what high state of bliss into what woe!” To whom our great progenitor: “Thy words Attentive, and with more delighted ear, Divine instructor, | have heard, than when

Cherubic songs® by night from neighboring hills

songs of Cherubim

Aerial music send: nor knew I not? To be both will and deed created free; 550

555

560

Yet that we never shall forget to love Our Maker, and obey him whose command Single, is yet° so just, my constant thoughts Assured me, and still assure: though what thou tell’st Hath passed in Heav’n, some doubt within me move, But more desire to hear, if thou consent, The full relation, which must needs be strange, Worthy of sacred silence to be heard; And we have yet large® day, for scarce the sun

also

ample

Hath finished half his journey, and scarce begins His other half in the great zone of Heav’n.” Thus Adam made request, and Raphael After short pause assenting, thus began: “High matter’ thou enjoin’st me, O prime of men, Sad task and hard, for how shall I relate

To human sense th’ invisible exploits Of warring Spirits; how without remorse The ruin of so many glorious once And perfect while they stood; how last unfold The secrets of another world, perhaps Not lawful to reveal? Yet for thy good This is dispensed, and what surmounts the reach Of human sense, I shall delineate so,

vi ~I I

By lik’ning spiritual to corporal forms, As may express them best, though what if earth Be but the shadow of Heav’n, and things therein Each to other like, more than on earth is thought? “As yet this world was not, and Chaos wild Reigned where these heav’ns now roll, where earth now rests

wile.2) wi

Upon her center poised, when on a day (For time, though in eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future)? on such day As Heav’n’s great year? brings forth, th’ empyreal host Of angels by imperial summons called, Innumerable before th’ Almighty’s throne Forthwith from all the ends of Heav’n appeared 9. A double negative; i.e., “I did know.” 1. Raphael’s account of the war in Heaven is an

2. Countering

a long philosophical

tradition,

epic device, a narrative of past action; it is also a mini-epic itself, with traditional battles, challenges, and single combats. As an “epic” poet

Milton asserts the existence of time in Heaven, before the creation of the universe. 3. Plato and others defined the “great year’ as the cycle completed when all the ‘heavenly bodies

treating sacred

simultaneously return to the positions they held

matter,

Raphael

confronts

rative challenge similar to Milton’s own.

a nar-

at the cycle’s beginning,

PARADISE

LOST,

Under their hierarchs® in orders bright. Ten thousand thousand ensigns high advanced, Standards, and gonfalons® twixt van and rear 590

Stream in the air, and for distinction serve

595

Of hierarchies, of orders, and degrees; Or in their glittering tissues® bear emblazed Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love Recorded eminent. Thus when in orbs Of circuit® inexpressible they stood,

BOOK

5

|

1589

leaders banners cloth

circumference

Orb within orb, the Father Infinite,

By whom in bliss embosomed sat the Son, Amidst as from a flaming mount, whose top 600

Brightness had made invisible, thus spake: “Hear all ye angels, progeny of Light, Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers, Hear my decree, which unrevoked shall stand.

605

This day I have begot whom I declare My only Son, and on this holy hill Him have anointed,* whom ye now behold At my right hand; your head I him appoint; And by myself have sworn to him shall bow All knees in Heav’n, and shall confess him Lord:

610

615

Under his great vicegerent’ reign abide United as one individual? soul Forever happy: him who? disobeys Me disobeys, breaks union, and that day Cast out from God and blesséd vision, falls Into utter°® darkness, deep engulfed, his place Ordained without redemption, without end.’ “So spake th’ Omnipotent, and with his words

indivisible whoever outer, total

All seemed well pleased, all seemed, but were not all.

That day, as other solemn® days, they spent

ceremonial

In song and dance about the sacred hill, 620

Mystical dance, which yonder starry sphere Of planets and of fixed? in all her wheels Resembles nearest, mazes intricate, Eccentric,° intervolved,° yet regular

625

fixed stars off center / intertwined

Then most, when most irregular they seem: And in their motions harmony divine So smooths her charming tones,° that God’s own ear Listens delighted. Evening now approached (For we have also our evening and our morn, We ours for change delectable, not need)

630

Forthwith from dance to sweet repast they turn Desirous; all in circles as they stood, Tables are set, and on a sudden piled 4, Cf. Psalm 2.7: “I will declare the decree: . . . Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee.” The episode refers to the exaltation of the Son as King, not his actual begetting, since he is elsewhere described as “of all creation first” (3.383) and as God's agent in creating the

angels and everything else. 5. Vice-regent, one appointed by the supreme ruler (here, God) to wield his authority. 6. The movements of the angels in their dance

produce harmony, like those of the planets in the Pythagorean theory of the music of the spheres.

1590

635

640

650

|

JOHN

MILTON

With angels’ food, and rubied nectar flows In pearl, in diamond, and massy gold, Fruit of delicious vines, the growth of Heav’n. On flow’rs reposed, and with fresh flow’rets crowned, They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy, secure Of surfeit where full measure only bounds Excess, before th’ all-bounteous King, who show’red With copious hand, rejoicing in their joy. Now when ambrosial® night with clouds exhaled From that high mount of God, whence light and shade Spring both, the face of brightest Heav’n had changed To grateful? twilight (for night comes not there In darker veil) and roseate® dews disposed All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest, Wide over all the plain, and wider far Than all this globous earth in plain outspread,

fragrant

pleasing rose-scented

(Such are the courts of God) th’ angelic throng

Dispersed in bands and files their camp extend By living streams among the trees of life, Pavilions numberless, and sudden reared,

Celestial tabernacles, where they slept 655

Fanned with cool winds, save those who in their course

Melodious hymns about the sov’reign throne Alternate all night long: but not so waked Satan, so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in Heav’n; he of the first, 660

If not the first Archangel, great in power, In favor and preeminence, yet fraught With envy against the Son of God, that day Honored by his great Father, and proclaimed Messiah’ King anointed, could not bear

665

670

675

Through pride that sight, and thought himself impaired. Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain, Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence, he resolved With all his legions to dislodge,’ and leave Unworshipped, unobeyed the throne supreme Contemptuous, and his next subordinate® Awak’ning, thus to him in secret spake: “*Sleep’st thou companion dear, what sleep can close Thy eyelids? and remember’st what decree Of yesterday, so late hath passed the lips Of Heav’n’s Almighty. Thou to me thy thoughts Wast wont,° I mine to thee was wont to impart;

leave camp

in the habit of

Both waking we were one; how then can now 680

Thy sleep dissent? New laws thou seest imposed; New laws from him who reigns, new minds° may raise In us who serve, new counsels, to debate

purposes

7. Hebrew, “anointed.”

8. His original name in Heaven is lost (1.356—63), but he will come to be known as Beelzebub.

PARADISE

LOST,

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5

|

ifsyt)

What doubtful may ensue, more in this place To utter is not safe. Assemble thou Of all those myriads which we lead the chief; Tell them that by command, ere yet dim night Her shadowy cloud withdraws, I am to haste, And all who under me their banners wave,

690

700

Homeward with flying march where we possess The quarters of the north, there to prepare Fit entertainment to receive our King The great Messiah, and his new commands, Who speedily through all the hierarchies Intends to pass triumphant, and give laws.’ “So spake the false Archangel, and infused Bad influence into th’ unwary breast Of his associate; he together calls, Or several one by one, the regent powers, Under him regent, tells, as he was taught, That the Most High commanding, now ere night, Now ere dim night had disencumbered Heav’n, The great hierarchal standard was to move;

Tells the suggested° cause, and casts between Ambitious words and jealousies, to sound® Or taint integrity; but all obeyed 705

insinuated

make trials of

The wonted signal, and superior voice

Of their great potentate® for great indeed

ruler

His name, and high was his degree in Heav’n;

His count’nance as the morning star that guides The starry flock, allured them, and with lies Drew after him the third part of Heav’n’s host: Meanwhile, th’ Eternal Eye, whose sight discerns Abstrusest® thoughts, from forth his holy mount And from within the golden lamps that burn Nightly before him, saw without their light 715

Rebellion rising, saw in whom, how spread

“I two

Among the sons of morn, what multitudes Were banded to oppose his high decree; And smiling to his only Son thus said: “*Son, thou in whom my glory I behold In full resplendence, heir of all my might,

725

Nearly it now concerns us to be sure Of our omnipotence, and with what arms We mean to hold what anciently we claim Of deity or empire, such a foe Is rising, who intends to erect his throne Equal to ours, throughout the spacious north, Nor so content, hath in his thought to try In battle, what our power is, or our right.

Let us advise, and to this hazard draw 730

With speed what force is left, and all employ In our defense, lest unawares we lose This our high place, our sanctuary, our hill.’ “To whom the Son with calm aspect and clear

most secret

1592

NI Ww wi

740

|

JOHN

MILTON

Lightning divine, ineffable, serene, Made answer: ‘Mighty Father, thou thy foes Justly hast in derision, and secure Laugh’st at their vain designs and tumults vain, 9 Matter to me of glory, whom their hate Illustrates,° when they see all regal power Giv’n me to quell their pride, and in event® Know whether I be dextrous to subdue Thy rebels, or be found the worst in Heav’n.’ “So spake the Son, but Satan with his powers°® Far was advanced on wingéd speed, an host Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops, which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower. Regions they passed, the mighty regencies° Of Seraphim and Potentates and Thrones In their triple degrees, regions to® which All thy dominion, Adam, is no more Than what this garden is to all the earth, And all the sea, from one entire globose® Stretched into longitude°® which having passed At length into the limits° of the north

makes illustrious in the outcome

armies

dominions

compared to

globe spread out flat regions

They came, and Satan to his royal seat High on a hill, far blazing, as a mount

760

Raised on a mount, with pyramids and tow’rs From diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold, The palace of great Lucifer (so call That structure in the dialect of men Interpreted) which not long after, he

765

Affecting? all equality with God, In imitation of that mount whereon Messiah was declared in sight of Heav’n, The Mountain of the Congregation called;

arrogating

For thither he assembled all his train,

Pretending so commanded to consult About the great reception of their King, 770

Thither to come, and with calumnious art

Of counterfeited truth thus held their ears: ““Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers,

~I ~I vt

780

If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular, since by decree Another now hath to himself engrossed°® All power, and us eclipsed under the name Of King anointed, for whom all this haste Of midnight march, and hurried meeting here, This only to consult how we may best With what may be devised of honors new

monopolized

Receive him coming to receive from us

Knee-tribute yet unpaid, prostration vile, Too much to one, but double how endured, 9. Cf. Psalm 2.4: “He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision.”

PARADIS EN LOIS Tse BiOlO)KeS

|

LIS

To one and to his image now proclaimed? But what if better counsels might erect Our minds and teach us to cast off this yoke? Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bend The supple knee? Ye will not, if I trust 790

~I \o vi

To know ye right, or if ye know yourselves Natives and sons of Heav’n possessed before By none, and if not equal all, yet free, Equally free; for orders and degrees Jar not with liberty, but well consist. Who can in reason then or right assume Monarchy over such as live by right His equals,' if in power and splendor less, In freedom equal? or can introduce Law and edict on us, who without law Err not, much less for this to be our Lord,

800

805

810

And look for adoration to th’ abuse Of those imperial titles which assert Our being ordained to govern, not to serve?’ “Thus far his bold discourse without control°® Had audience, when among the Seraphim Abdiel,* than whom none with more zeal adored The Deity, and divine commands obeyed, Stood up, and in a flame of zeal severe The current of his fury thus opposed: ““O argument blasphémous, false and proud! Words which no ear ever to hear in Heav’n Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate, In place thyself so high above thy peers. Canst thou with impious obloquy condemn

hindrance

The just decree of God, pronounced and sworn, 815

That to his only Son by right endued With regal scepter, every soul in Heav’n Shall bend the knee, and in that honor due

Confess him rightful King? Unjust thou says'’t, Flatly unjust, to bind with laws the free, 820

And equal over equals to let reign,

without successor

One over all with unsucceeded?® power. Shalt thou give law to God, shalt thou dispute

With him the points of liberty, who made Thee what thou art, and formed the pow’rs of Heav’n

Such as he pleased, and circumscribed their being? Yet by experience taught we know how good, And of our good, and of our dignity How provident he is, how far from thought To make us less, bent rather to exalt 830

Our happy state under one head more near United. But to grant it thee unjust, 1. Satan here paraphrases the republican theory against earthly monarchy like that urged by Milton in his Tenure of Kings and Magistrates (1649); see pp. 1396-99. Abdiel, however, insists (lines

809-41) that the argument from equality cannot pertain to God and the angels. 2. Hebrew, “servant of God.

1594

835

|

JOHN

MILTON

That equal over equals monarch reign: Thyself though great and glorious dost thou count, Or all angelic nature joined in one, Equal to him begotten Son, by whom As by his Word the mighty Father made All things, ev’n thee, and all the Spirits of Heav’n

By him created in their bright° degrees, Crowned them with glory, and to their glory named 840

illustrious

Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers,

Essential Powers, nor by his reign obscured, But more illustrious made, since he the head One of our number thus reduced becomes,’

His laws our laws, all honor to him done Returns our own. Cease then this impious rage, And tempt not these; but hasten to appease Th’ incenséd Father and th’ incenséd Son,

850

While pardon may be found in time besought.’ “So spake the fervent angel, but his zeal None seconded, as out of season judged, Or singular and rash, whereat rejoiced Th’ Apostate,° and more haughty thus replied. ‘That we were formed then say’st thou? and the work Of secondary hands, by task transferred From Father to his Son? Strange point and new! Doctrine which we would know whence learnt: who saw When this creation was? Remember’st thou Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being? We

860

know

no time when

we

were

religious renegade

not as now;

Know none before us, self-begot, self-raised,

By our own quick’ning power, when fatal course®

the course offate

Had circled his full orb, the birth mature Of this our native Heav’n, ethereal sons.* 865

Our puissance® is our own, our own right hand Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try Who is our equal: then thou shalt behold Whether by supplication we intend Address, and to begirt th’ Almighty throne Beseeching or besieging. This report, These tidings carry to th’ anointed King; And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight.’ “He said, and as the sound of waters deep Hoarse murmur echoed to his words applause Through the infinite host, nor less for that The flaming Seraph fearless, though alone Encompassed round with foes, thus answered bold:

power

“‘O alienate from God, O Spirit accurst,

Forsaken of all good; I see thy fall Determined, and thy hapless crew involved 3. Abdiel suggests that the Son’s appointment as the angels’ king is something like an “incarnation”

for them.

4. Satan’s (illogical) argument is that since the

angels cannot remember their creation, they created themselves. Cf. Adam's comment on his recollection of origins (8.250—51, 270-79).

PARADISE

3880

885

890

895

900

905

LOST,

BOOK

In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread Both of thy crime and punishment: henceforth No more be troubled how to quit the yoke Of God’s Messiah; those indulgent laws Will not be now vouchsafed, other decrees Against thee are gone forth without recall; That golden scepter which thou didst reject Is now an iron rod to bruise and break Thy disobedience. Well thou didst advise, Yet not for thy advice or threats I fly These wicked tents devoted,° lest the wrath Impendent,’ raging into sudden flame Distinguish not: for soon expect to feel His thunder on thy head, devouring fire. Then who created thee lamenting learn, When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know.’ “So spake the Seraph Abdiel faithful found, Among the faithless, faithful only he; Among innumerable false, unmoved, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal; Nor number, nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind Though single. From amidst them forth he passed, Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustained Superior, nor of violence feared aught;° And with retorted scorn his back he turned On those proud tow’rs to swift destruction doomed.”

6

|

To

doomed impending

anything

Book 6 The Argument Raphael continues to relate how Michael and Gabriel were sent forth to battle against Satan and his angels. The first fight described: Satan and his powers retire under night: he calls a council, invents devilish engines, which in the second day’s fight put Michael and his angels to some disorder; but they at length pulling up mountains overwhelmed both the force and machines of Satan: yet the tumult not so ending, God on the third day sends Messiah his Son, for whom he had reserved the glory of that victory: he in the power of his Father coming to the place, and causing all his legions to stand still on either side, with his chariot and thunder driving into the midst of his enemies, pursues them unable to resist towards the wall of heaven; which opening, they leap down with horror and confusion into the place of punishment prepared for them in the deep: Messiah returns with triumph to this Father.

All night the dreadless angel’ unpursued Through Heav'n’s wide champaign® held his way, till Morn, Waked by the circling Hours,” with rosy hand 1. Le., Abdiel. 2. Daughters of Jove, who control the seasons

plain

and guard the gates of Heaven. “Morn”: Aurora, goddess of dawn.

1596

|

JOHN

MILTON

Unbarred the gates of light. There is a cave vi

10

30

Within the mount of God, fast° by his throne,

Where light and darkness in perpetual round Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heav’n Grateful vicissitude,° like day and night; Light issues forth, and at the other door Obsequious® darkness enters, till her hour To veil the Heav’n, though darkness there might well Seem twilight here; and now went forth the Morn Such as in highest Heav’n, arrayed in gold Empyreal;° from before her vanished night, Shot through with orient beams: when all the plain Covered with thick embattled°® squadrons bright, Chariots and flaming arms, and fiery steeds Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view: War he perceived, war in procinct,° and found Already known what he for news had thought To have reported: gladly then he mixed Among those friendly Powers who him received With joy and acclamations loud, that one That of so many myriads fall’n, yet one Returned not lost: on to the sacred hill They led him high applauded, and present Before the seat supreme; from whence a voice: From midst a golden cloud thus mild was heard. “Servant of God,* well done, well hast thou fought The better fight, who single hast maintained Against revolted multitudes the cause Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms; And for the testimony of truth hast borne Universal reproach, far worse to bear Than violence: for this was all thy care

close

delightful change compliant

heavenly in battle array preparation

To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds Judged thee perverse: the easier conquest now Remains thee, aided by this host of friends, 40

Back on thy foes more glorious to return Than scorned thou didst depart, and to subdue By force, who reason for their law refuse, Right reason® for their law, and for their King Messiah, who by right of merit reigns. Go Michael of celestial armies prince, And thou in military prowess next Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons°

upright, true reason

angels

Invincible, lead forth my arméd saints

By thousands and by millions ranged for fight; Equal in number to that godless crew 50

Rebellious,* them with fire and hostile arms Fearless assault, and to the brow of Heav’n

3. The literal meaning (Hebrew) of the name Abdiel. : 4. God sends out only an equal force to match

the one-third of the angelic host that rebelled, not the two-thirds that remained loyal.

PARADISE

60

LOST,

BOOK

6

|

Pursuing drive them out from God and bliss, Into their place of punishment, the gulf Of Tartarus,° which ready opens wide His fiery chaos to receive their fall.’ “So spake the Sovereign Voice, and clouds began To darken all the hill, and smoke to roll In dusky wreaths reluctant° flames, the sign Of wrath awaked: nor with less dread the loud Ethereal trumpet from on high gan?® blow:

SIOZ

Hell

writhing began to

At which command the powers militant,

That stood for Heav’n, in mighty quadrate? joined Of union irresistible, moved on In silence their bright legions, to the sound Of instrumental harmony that breathed Heroic ardor to advent’rous deeds Under their godlike leaders, in the cause Of God and his Messiah. On they move Indissolubly firm; nor obvious? hill, Nor strait’ning vale,° nor wood, nor stream divides Their perfect ranks; for high above the ground

standing in the way

Their march was, and the passive air upbore Their nimble tread; as when the total kind

Of birds in orderly array on wing Came summoned over Eden to receive Their names of thee; so over many a tract Of Heav’n they marched, and many a province wide Tenfold the length of this terrene:° at last Far in th’ horizon to the north appeared From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretched In battailous® aspéct, and nearer view Bristled with upright beams® innumerable

earth, terrain

warlike

shafts

Of rigid spears, and helmets thronged, and shields 85

Various, with boastful argument? portrayed, The banded powers of Satan hasting on With furious expedition;° for they weened® That selfsame day by fight, or by surprise

heraldic devices

speed / thought

To win the mount of God, and on his throne 90

To set the envier of his state, the proud Aspirer, but their thoughts proved fond? and vain In the mid-way: though strange to us it seemed At first, that angel should with angel war, And in fierce hosting’ meet, who wont® to meet

So oft in festivals of joy and love 95)

100

Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire Hymning th’ Eternal Father: but the shout

Of battie now began, and rushing sound Of onset ended soon each milder thought. High in the midst exalted as a god Th’ Apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat 5. A square military formation. 6. A narrow valley would force other armies to

march ina file. 7. Hostile encounter.

foolish

were

accustomed

1598

|

JOHN

MILTON

Idol of majesty divine, enclosed With flaming Cherubim, and golden shields;

Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now ’Twixt host® and host but narrow space was left, ios

A dreadful interval, and front to front®

army face to face

Presented stood in terrible array Of hideous length: before the cloudy van,°

110

1s

On the rough edge of battle® ere it joined, Satan with vast and haughty strides advanced, Came tow’ring, armed in adamant and gold; Abdiel that sight endured not, where he stood Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds, And thus his own undaunted heart explores: ““O Heav’'n! that such resemblance of the Highest Should yet remain, where faith and realty° Remain not; wherefore should not strength and might There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove Where boldest; though to sight° unconquerable? His puissance,° trusting in th’ Almighty’s aid,

120

I mean to try, whose reason | have tried®

125

Unsound and false; nor is it aught but just, That he who in debate of truth hath won, Should win in arms, in both disputes alike Victor; though brutish that contést and foul, When reason hath to deal with force, yet so

frowning vanguard

front line

sincerity seemingly power proved by trial

Most reason is that reason overcome.’

130

135

“So pondering, and from his armed peers Forth stepping opposite, halfway he met His daring foe, at this prevention® more ~Incensed, and thus securely® him defied: “Proud, art thou met? Thy hope was to have reached The height of thy aspiring unopposed, The throne of God unguarded, and his side Abandoned at the terror of thy power

obstruction confidently

Or potent tongue; fool, not to think how vain

Against the Omnipotent to rise in arms; Who out of smallest things could without end

140

Have raised incessant armies to defeat Thy folly; or with solitary hand Reaching beyond all limit at one blow Unaided could have finished thee, and whelmed

Thy legions under darkness; but thou seest All are not of thy train; there be® who faith Prefer, and piety° to God, though then 145

there are those devotion

‘To thee not visible, when I alone

Seemed in thy world erroneous to dissent From all: my sect® thou seest, now learn too late 8. The term

carries political resonance,

since

the national English church, Anglican or (during the revolution) Presbyterian, sought to suppress and persecute the sects who separated from it (Baptists, Quakers, Socinians, and others), often

denouncing them as heretics. Satan claims that a

“synod” (line 156, term for a Presbyterian assembly) has proclaimed the truth of the rebel angels’ case; Abdiel insists that truth may rather reside (as here) with a single “dissenter” or a sect of a few.

PARADISE

150

LOST,

BOOK

6

|

15199

How few sometimes may know, when thousand err.’ “Whom the grand Foe with scornful eye askance Thus answered. ‘Ill for thee, but in wished hour Of my revenge, first sought for thou return’st From flight, seditious angel, to receive Thy merited reward, the first assay Of this right hand provoked, since first that tongue Inspired with contradiction durst oppose A third part of the gods, in synod met Their deities to assert, who while they feel

160

Vigor divine within them, can allow Omnipotence to none. But well thou com’st Before thy fellows, ambitious to win From me some plume, that thy success? may show Destruction to the rest: this pause between (Unanswered lest thou boast)! to let thee know;

165

At first | thought that liberty and Heav’n To heav’nly souls had been all one;° but now I see that most through sloth had rather serve, Minist’ring Spirits, trained up in feast and song;

one and the same

Such hast thou armed, the minstrelsy? of Heav’n,

Servility® with freedom to contend, As both their deeds compared this day shall prove.’ “To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied: ‘Apostate, still thou err’st, nor end wilt find Of erring, from the path of truth remote: Unjustly thou deprav’st® it with the name

bondage, obsequiousness

vilify

Of servitude to serve whom God ordains, Or nature; God and nature bid the same,

When he who rules is worthiest, and excels

Them whom he governs. This is servitude, To serve th’ unwise, or him who hath rebelled 180

185

Against his Thyself not Yet lewdly° Reign thou

worthier, as thine now serve thee, free, but to thyself enthralled;’ dar’st our minist’ring upbraid. in Hell thy kingdom, let me serve

In Heav’n God ever blest, and his divine Behests obey, worthiest to be obeyed; Yet chains in Hell, not realms expect: meanwhile From me returned, as erst® thou saidst, from flight,

ignorantly, basely

formerly

This greeting on thy impious crest receive.’ “So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, 190

Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell

On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield Such ruin intercept: ten paces huge He back recoiled; the tenth on bended knee 9. The outcome of your action. “Plume”: token of victory. 1. Le., lest thou boast that I did not answer your argument. 2. Satan’s contemptuous pun links together the

loyal angels’ service (“Minist'ring,” line 167) with their song, likened to the street songs of minstrels. 3. Abdiel cites the “natural law” principle that rule rightly belongs to the best or worthiest, and that tyrants are enslaved to their own passions.

1600

200

|

JOHN

MILTON

His massy spear upstayed; as if on earth Winds under ground or waters forcing way Sidelong, had pushed a mountain from his seat Half sunk with all his pines. Amazement seized The rebel Thrones,* but greater rage to see Thus foiled their mightiest: ours joy filled, and shout, Presage of victory and fierce desire Of battle: whereat Michaél bid sound Th’ Archangel trumpet; through the vast of Heav’n It sounded, and the faithful armies rung Hosanna to the Highest: nor stood at gaze The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined The horrid shock: now storming fury rose,

210

And clamor such as heard in Heav’n till now Was never, arms on armor clashing brayed” Horrible discord, and the madding® wheels

whirling madly

Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise Of conflict; overhead the dismal?® hiss

dreadful

Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, And flying vaulted either host with fire. So under fiery cope® together rushed

sky

Both battles main,°® with ruinous assault

And inextinguishable rage; all Heav’n Resounded, and had earth been then, all earth

Had to her center shook. What wonder? when Millions of fierce encount’ring angels fought On either side, the least of whom could wield These elements,’ and arm him with the force

Of all their regions: how much more of power Army against army numberless to raise to tw wa

230

t

WwwT

Dreadful combustion® warring, and disturb,

Though not destroy, their happy native seat; Had not th’ Eternal King Omnipotent From his stronghold of Heav’n high overruled And limited their might; though numbered such As each divided legion might have seemed A numerous host, in strength each arméd hand A legion; led in fight, yet leader seemed Each warrior single as in chief,® expert When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway°®

tumult

force

Of battle, open when, and when to close

The ridges® of grim war; no thought of flight, None of retreat, no unbecoming deed

ranks

That argued fear; each on himself relied, 240

As° only in his arm the moment? lay Ofvictory; deeds of eternal fame 4. Here as elsewhere Milton uses the name of one angelic order to stand for all. But the choice of “Thrones” here carries political resonance, linking monarchs with rebels against God’s kingdom. 5. Made a harsh, jarring sound. 6. The principal body of an army, as opposed to

as if the van, rear, and wing. 7. The four elements—fire, air, water, earth— that constitute the several “regions” (next line) of planet earth. 8. L.e., the angelic legions had leaders, yet each single warrior seemed like such a leader. 9. Weight that will tip the scales.

PARADISE

245

250

FOS:

Were done, but infinite: for wide was spread That war and various; sometimes on firm ground A standing fight, then soaring on main® wing Tormented? all the air; all air seemed then Conflicting fire: long time in even scale The battle hung; till Satan, who that day Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms No equal, ranging through the dire attack Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and felled Squadrons at once; with huge two-handed sway Brandished aloft the horrid edge came down Wide-wasting; such destruction to withstand He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield!

BOOK

6

|

1601

strong, powerful

agitated

A vast circumference: at his approach

The great Archangel from his warlike toil Surceased, and glad as hoping here to end Intestine war° in Heav’n, the Arch-Foe subdued 260

civil war

Or captive dragged in chains, with hostile frown And visage all inflamed first thus began: “‘Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,

Unnamed in Heav’n, now plenteous, as thou seest These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all, iS)a wa

270

280

Though heaviest by just measure on thyself And thy adherents: how hast thou disturbed Heav’n’s blesséd peace, and into nature brought Misery, uncreated till the crime Of thy rebellion! how hast thou instilled Thy malice into thousands, once upright And faithful, now proved false! But think not here To trouble holy rest; Heav’n casts thee out From all her confines. Heav’n the seat of bliss Brooks°® not the works of violence and war. Hence then, and evil go with thee along Thy offspring, to the place of evil, Hell, Thou and thy wicked crew; there mingle® broils, Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom, Or some more sudden vengeance winged from God Precipitate thee with augmented pain.’ “So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus The Adversary: ‘Nor think thou with wind Of airy threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not. Hast thou turned the least of these To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise Unvanquished, easier to transact with me That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats To chase me hence?” Err not that so shall end 1. Satan’s shield is a rocklike (“rocky”) circle, made of impenetrable “adamant” (probably diamond), ten layers thick. 2. L.e., Have you made even the least of my follow-

endures

concoct

ers flee, or seen them fall and fail to rise, that you would hope “imperiously” to deal (“transact”) otherwise with me, driving me off by mere threats? “Err not” (following): don’t falsely suppose.

1602

290

|

JOHN

MILTON

The strife which thou call’st evil, but we style The strife of glory: which we mean to win, Or turn this Heav’n itself into the Hell Thou fablest, here however to dwell free,

295

If not to reign: meanwhile thy utmost force, And join him named Almighty to thy aid, I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.’ “They ended parle,’ and both addressed? for fight Unspeakable; for who, though with the tongue Of angels, can relate, or to what things

parley / prepared

Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift 300

Human imagination to such height Of godlike power: for likest gods they seemed, Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms

305

310

320

Fit to decide the empire of great Heav’n. Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air Made horrid circles; two broad suns their shields Blazed opposite, while Expectation stood? In horror; from each hand with speed retired Where erst° was thickest fight, th’ angelic throng, And left large field, unsafe within the wind Of such commotion, such as to set forth Great things by small, if nature’s concord broke, Among the constellations war were sprung, Two planets rushing from aspéct malign Of fiercest opposition in midsky, Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound.* Together both with next to almighty arm, Uplifted imminent one stroke they aimed That might determine,’ and not need repeat,° As not of power,’ at once; nor odds° appeared In might or swift prevention;° but the sword Of Michael from the armory of God Was giv’n him tempered so, that neither keen Nor solid might resist that edge: it met The sword of Satan with steep force to smite Descending, and in half cut sheer, nor stayed, But with swift wheel reverse, deep ent’ring shared® All his right side; then Satan first knew pain,

ever

end / repetition

inequality anticipation

cut off

And writhed him to and fro convolved;° so sore

contorted

The griding® sword with discontinuous? wound

keenly cutting / gaping

330

Passed through him, but th’ ethereal substance closed

335

Not long divisible, and from the gash A stream of nectarous humor issuing flowed Sanguine,° such as celestial Spirits may bleed, And all his armor stained erewhile so bright. Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run 3. Personifying the angels’ apprehension. 4. An epic simile comparing the clash of these armies (“great things”) with war among the planets, in which two planets clashing together from diametrically opposed positions (“aspect malign”),

blood-red

would cast the planetary system and its music (“jarring spheres”) into confusion (“confound”), 5. l.e., because they would not have power to repeat the blow.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

6

|

1603

By angels many and strong, who interposed Defense, while others bore him on their shields

340

345

Back to his chariot, where it stood retired From off the files of war; there they him laid Gnashing for anguish and despite and shame To find himself not matchless, and his pride Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath His confidence to equal God in power. Yet soon he healed; for Spirits that live throughout Vital in every part, not as frail man In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins,°

kidneys

Cannot but by annihilating die; Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound Receive, no more than can the fluid air: 350

All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,

All intellect, all sense, and as they please, They limb themselves,° and color, shape, or size Assume, as likes° them best, condense or rare. “Meanwhile in other parts like deeds deserved Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought, And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep array

pleases

Of Moloch furious king,’ who him defied,

360

365

And at his chariot wheels to drag him bound Threatened, nor from the Holy One of Heav’n Refrained his tongue blasphémous; but anon Down clov’n to the waist, with shattered arms And uncouth? pain fled bellowing. On each wing Uriel and Raphael his vaunting foe, Though huge, and in a rock of diamond armed,

unfamiliar

Vanquished Adramelech, and Asmadai,®

Two potent Thrones, that to be less than gods Disdained, but meaner thoughts learned in their flight,

Mangled with ghastly wounds through plate and mail. Nor stood unmindful Abdiel to annoy® 370

injure

The atheist? crew, but with redoubled blow

impious

Ariel and Arioch, and the violence Of Ramiel? scorched and blasted overthrew. I might relate of thousands, and their names Eternize here on earth; but those elect

380

Angels contented with their fame in Heav'n Seek not the praise of men: the other sort In might though wondrous and in acts of war, Nor of renown less eager, yet by doom Canceled from Heav’n and sacred memory, Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell. For strength from truth divided and from just, Illaudable,° naught merits but dispraise 6. Le., provide themselves with limbs. “Condense

or rare” (line 353): dense or airy. 7. With his companies (“ensigns”) he pierced

Moloch’s troops in their dense formation (“deep »

array’).

8. Asmodeus,

unworthy of praise

a

Persian

god

(cf.

4.167—71).

“Adramelech’: “king of fire,” a god worshipped at : Samaria with human sacrifice. 9, “Ariel”: “lion of God.” “Arioch”: ‘Ramiel”: “thunder of God.”

“lionlike.

1604

385

|

JOHN

MILTON

And ignominy, yet to glory aspires Vainglorious, and through infamy seeks fame: Therefore eternal silence be their doom. “And now their mightiest quelled, the battle swerved,’

With many an inroad gored; deforméd rout Entered, and foul disorder; all the ground 390

With shivered armor strown, and on a heap Chariot and charioteer lay overturned And fiery foaming steeds; what® stood, recoiled O’erwearied, through the faint Satanic host Defensive scarce,” or with pale fear surprised,°

395

400

Then first with fear surprised and sense of pain Fled ignominious, to such evil brought By sin of disobedience, till that hour Not liable to fear or flight or pain. Far otherwise th’ inviolable saints In cubic phalanx® firm advanced entire, Invulnerable, impenetrably armed: Such high advantages their innocence

those who

seized unexpectedly

formation

Gave them above their foes, not to have sinned,

405

410

415

Not to have disobeyed; in fight they stood Unwearied, unobnoxious? to be pained By wound, though from their place by violence moved. “Now night her course began, and over Heav’n Inducing darkness, grateful truce imposed, And silence on the odious din of war: Under her cloudy covert both retired, Victor and vanquished: on the foughten field Michaél and his angels prevalent® Encamping, placed in guard their watches round, Cherubic waving fires: on th’ other part Satan with his rebellious disappeared, Far in the dark dislodged,° and void of rest, His potentates to council called by night; And in the midst thus undismayed began: ““O now in danger tried, now known in arms Not to be overpowered, companions dear, Found worthy not of liberty alone, Too mean pretense,° but what we more affect,’

not liable

victorious

shifted quarters

low aim

Honor, dominion, glory, and renown,

Who have sustained one day in doubtful? fight, (And if one day, why not eternal days?) What Heaven’s Lord had powerfullest to send Against us from about his throne, and judged

indecisive

Sufficient to subdue us to his will,

430

But proves not so: then fallible, it seems, Of future° we may deem him, though till now Omniscient thought. True is, less firmly armed, Some disadvantage we endured and pain, 1. L.e., the army gave way.

2. Scarcely defending themselves.

3. Aspire to.

in the future

PARADISE

KOISiy

BOOK

6

|

1605

Till now not known, but known as soon contemned,*

435

Since now we find this our empyreal form Incapable of mortal injury Imperishable, and though pierced with wound, Soon closing, and by native vigor healed. Of evil then so small as easy think The remedy; perhaps more valid° arms,

powerful

Weapons more violent, when next we meet,

445

455

May serve to better us, and worse® our foes, Or equal what between us made the odds, In nature none: if other hidden cause Left them superior, while we can preserve Unhurt our minds, and understanding sound, Due search and consultation will disclose.’ “He sat; and in th’ assembly next upstood Nisroch,® of Principalities the prime; As one he stood escaped from cruel fight, Sore toiled, his riven arms to havoc hewn,° And cloudy in aspéct thus answering spake: ‘Deliverer from new lords, leader to free Enjoyment of our right as gods; yet hard

injure

cut to pieces

For gods, and too unequal work we find Against unequal arms to fight in pain, Against unpained, impassive;° from which evil Ruin must needs ensue; for what avails

Valor or strength, though matchless, quelled with pain Which all subdues, and makes remiss° the hands 460

slack, weak

Of mightiest. Sense of pleasure we may well Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, But live content, which is the calmest life:

But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns 465

All patience. He who therefore can invent With what more forcible we may offend° Our yet unwounded enemies, or arm Ourselves with like defense, to me® deserves

475

480

No less than for deliverance what we owe.” “Whereto with look composed Satan replied. ‘Not uninvented that, which thou aright Believ’st so main® to our success, I bring; Which of us who beholds the bright surface Of this ethereous mold° whereon we stand, This continent of spacious Heav’n, adorned With plant, fruit, flow’r ambrosial, gems and gold, Whose eye so superfically surveys These things, as not to mind® from whence they grow Deep underground, materials dark and crude, Of spiritous and fiery spume,’ till touched With Heav’n’s ray, and tempered they shoot forth 4. No sooner known than despised. 5. An Assyrian god; the Hebrew name was said to mean flight or luxurious temptation.

attack

in my opinion

essential

ethereal matter

consider

frothy matter

6. Not liable to suffering. 7. I.e., we would owe such a one our deliverance.

1606

JOHN

MILTON

So beauteous, op’ning to the ambient? light. These in their dark nativity the deep Shall yield us, pregnant with infernal? flame, Which into hollow engines® long and round 485

enveloping from underground cannon

Thick-rammed, at th’ other bore® with touch of fire

Dilated and infuriate® shall send forth From far with thund’ring noise among our foes Such implements of mischief as shall dash To pieces, and o’erwhelm whatever stands 490

raging

Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarmed

The Thunderer of his only° dreaded bolt. Nor long shall be our labor, yet ere dawn,

unique

Effect shall end our wish. Meanwhile revive; 495

Abandon fear; to strength and counsel joined Think nothing hard, much less to be despaired.’ He ended, and his words their drooping cheer® Enlightened, and their languished hope revived. Th’ invention all admired,° and each, how he To be th’ inventor missed, so easy it seemed

500

spirits marveled at

Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought Impossible: yet haply°® of thy race

possibly

In future days, if malice should abound,

505

510

Someone intent on mischief, or inspired With dev’ lish machination might devise Like instrument to plague the sons of men For sin, on war and mutual slaughter bent. Forthwith from council to the work they flew, None arguing stood, innumerable hands Were ready, in a moment up they turned Wide the celestial soil, and saw beneath

Th’ originals° of nature in their crude Conception; sulphurous and nitrous foam? They found, they mingled, and with subtle art, Concocted?® and adjusted® they reduced To blackest grain, and into store conveyed: Part hidden veins digged up (nor hath this earth

original elements heated / dried

Entrails unlike) of mineral and stone,

Whereof to found? their engines and their balls Of missive® ruin; part incentive® reed Provide, pernicious® with one touch to fire.

So all ere day-spring,° under conscious! night

cast missile / kindling quick, destructive

dawn

Secret they finished, and in order set,

With silent circumspection unespied. Now when fair morn orient in Heav’n appeared Up rose the victor angels, and to arms The matin® trumpet sung: in arms they stood Of golden panoply, refulgent° host, Soon banded; others from the dawning hills

morning shining

Looked round, and scouts each coast light-arméd scour, 8. The touchhole into which fine powder was poured to serve as fuse for the charge. “Thick”:

compactly.

9. Saltpeter (“nitrous foam”) and sulphur are the ingredients of gunpowder.

1. Aware, as an accessory to a crime.

RARAIDIESE

seOSis

BOOK

Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight, In motion or in alt:° him soon they met Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow But firm battalion; back with speediest sail Zophiel,* of Cherubim the swiftest wing, Came flying, and in mid-air aloud thus cried: “Arm, warriors, arm for fight, the foe at hand, Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit This day, fear not his flight; so thick a cloud 540

545

1607

He comes, and settled in his face I see

Sad° resolution and secure:° let each His adamantine® coat gird well, and each Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbéd shield, Borne ev’n° or high, for this day will pour down, If Iconjecture® aught, no drizzling shower, But rattling storm of arrows barbed with fire.’ So warned he them aware themselves, and soon

sober / confident of hardest metal straight out § interpret signs

hindrance

Instant without disturb° they took alarm,

560

|

halt

In order, quit of all impediment;° 550

6

disorder

And onward move embattled;° when behold

Not distant far the heavy pace the foe Approaching gross® and huge; in hollow cube Training® his devilish enginry, impaled® On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, To hide the fraud. At interview° both stood A while, but suddenly at head appeared Satan: and thus was heard commanding loud: “Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold; That all may see who hate us, how we seek Peace and composure,’ and with open breast Stand ready to receive them, if they like

in battle order

compact hauling /fenced in at mutual view

agreement

Our overture,’ and turn not back perverse; But that I doubt, however witness Heaven,

Heav’n witness thou anon, while we discharge Freely our part: ye who appointed stand Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch What we propound, and loud that all may hear.’ “So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce Had ended; when to right and left the front Divided, and to either flank retired. Which to our eyes discovered new and strange,

A triple-mounted? row of pillars laid On wheels (for like to pillars most they seemed Or hollowed bodies made of oak or fir With branches lopped, in wood or mountain felled) Brass, iron, stony mold,’ had not their mouths

in three rows

matter

With hideous orifice gaped on us wide, 2. Hebrew, “spy of God.” 3. A pun on “offer to negotiate” and “opening” (aperture), the hole or muzzle of the cannon. The

passage is full of puns: e.g., “perverse” (line 562,

peevish, turned the wrong way), “discharge” (line 564), “charge,” “touch,” “propound,” “loud” (lines 566-67), “hollow” (line 578).

1608

|

JOHN

MILTON

Portending hollow truce; at each behind A Seraph stood, and in his hand a reed 580

Stood waving tipped with fire; while we suspense,°

Collected stood within our thoughts amused,° Not long, for sudden all at once their reeds Put forth, and to a narrow vent applied With nicest® touch. Immediate in a flame,

585

59s

600

And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul Their devilish glut, chained’ thunderbolts and hail Of iron globes, which on the victor host Leveled, with such impetuous fury smote, That whom they hit, none on their feet might stand, Though standing else as rocks, but down they fell By thousands, Angel on Archangel rolled, The sooner for their arms; unarmed they might Have easily as Spirits evaded swift By quick contraction or remove; but now Foul dissipation® followed and forced rout; Nor served it to relax their serried files.° What should they do? If on they rushed, repulse Repeated, and indecent® overthrow

605

610

615

620

puzzled most exact

But soon obscured with smoke, all Heav’n appeared, From those deep-throated engines belched,* whose roar Emboweled? with outrageous noise the air,

300

in suspense

dispersal shameful

Doubled, would render them yet more despised, And to their foes a laughter; for in view Stood ranked of Seraphim another row In posture to displode® their second dire® Of thunder: back defeated to return They worse abhorred. Satan beheld their plight, And to his mates thus in derision called: ““O friends, why come not on these victors proud? Erewhile they fierce were coming, and when we, To entertain them fair with open front°® And breast,° (what could we more?) propounded’ terms Of composition, straight they changed their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries? fell, As they would dance, yet for a dance they seemed Somewhat extravagant and wild, perhaps For joy of offering peace: but I suppose If our proposals once again were heard We should compel them to a quick result.’ “To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood: ‘Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight, Of hard contents, and full of force urged home, Such as we might perceive amused them® all, 4. See the sustained debased imagery relating to bodily functions, e.g., “belched,” “emboweled,” “entrails.” 5. Chainshot, which was linked cannonballs. 6. L.e., nor did it do any good (“served it”) to loosen up (“relax”) their rows pressed close together (“serried files”).

disemboweled

explode / volley

candid face heart

eccentric motions

7. More puns, on “propounded,” “terms of composition,” “flew off.” 8. A pun on “held their attention” and “bewildered them.” Belial also puns on (among other terms) “stumbled” (“nonplussed” and “tripped up”) and “understand” (“comprehend” and “prop up’).

PARA DISESVOST,

630

640

And stumbled many: who receives them right, Had need from head to foot well understand; Not understood, this gift they have besides, They show us when our foes walk not upright.” “So they among themselves in pleasant® vein Stood scoffing, heightened in their thoughts beyond All doubt of victory, Eternal Might To match with their inventions they presumed So easy, and of his thunder made a scorn, And all his host derided, while they° stood A while in trouble; but they stood not long, Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power, Which God hath in his mighty angels placed) Their arms away they threw, and to the hills (For earth hath this variety from Heav’n

BOOK

6

|

1609

jesting

the good angels

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale)

645

Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew, From their foundations loos’ning to and fro They plucked the seated hills with all their load,’ Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops Uplifting bore them in their hands: amaze,°

astonishment, panic

Be sure, and terror seized the rebel host,

650

When coming towards them so dread they saw The bottom of the mountains upward turned, Till on those curséd engines’ triple-row They saw them whelmed, and all their confidence Under the weight of mountains buried deep, Themselves invaded® next, and on their heads

655

660

Main® promontories flung, which in the air Came shadowing, and oppressed° whole legions armed. Their armor helped their harm, crushed in and bruised Into their substance pent,? which wrought them pain Implacable, and many a dolorous groan, Long struggling undernearth, ere they could wind Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light,

attacked great, solid pressed down

closely confined

Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown.

665

670

The rest in imitation to like arms Betook them, and the neighboring hills uptore; So hills amid the air encountered hills Hurled to and fro with jaculation? dire, That underground they fought in dismal shade; Infernal noise; war seemed a civil® game To° this uproar; horrid confusion heaped Upon confusion rose: and now all Heav’n Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread, Had not th’ Almighty Father where he sits Shrined in his sanctuary of Heav’n secure,

hurling

humane, refined compared to

in 9. The hurling of hills as missiles is taken from the war between the Olympian gods and the Giants,

Hesiod’s Theogony.

1610

675

680

685

|

JOHN

MILTON

Consulting® on the sum of things, foreseen This tumult, and permitted all, advised:° That his great purpose he might so fulfill, To honor his anointed Son avenged Upon his enemies, and to declare All power on him transferred: whence to his Son Th’ assessor! of his throne he thus began: ““Effulgence® of my glory, Son beloved, Son in whose face invisible is beheld Visibly,? what by Deity I am, And in whose hand what by decree I do, Second Omnipotence,* two days are passed, Two days, as we compute the days of Heav’n, Since Michael and his powers went forth to tame

considering deliberately

radiance

These disobedient; sore hath been their fight,

As likeliest was, when two such foes met armed; For to themselves I left them, and thou know’st, 690

695

Equal in their creation they were formed, Save what sin hath impaired, which yet hath wrought Insensibly,° for I suspend their doom; Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last Endless, and no solution will be found: War wearied hath performed what war can do, And to disordered rage let loose the reins, With mountains as with weapons armed, which makes Wild work in Heav’n, and dangerous to the main.°

700

705

710

Two days are therefore passed, the third is thine; For thee | have ordained it, and thus far Have suffered,° that the glory may be thine Of ending this great war, since none but thou Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace Immense I have transfused, that all may know In Heav'n and Hell thy power above compare, And this perverse commotion governed thus, To manifest thee worthiest to be heir Of all things, to be heir and to be King By sacred unction,° thy deserved right. Go then thou mightiest in thy Father’s might, Ascend my chariot, guide the rapid wheels That shake Heav’n’s basis, bring forth all my war,° My bow and thunder, my almighty arms Gird on, and sword upon thy puissant thigh;

imperceptively

whole continent

permitted

anointing

instruments of war

Pursue these sons of darkness, drive them out

From all Heav’n’s bounds into the utter® deep: There let them learn, as likes them, to despise God and Messiah his anointed? King.’ “He said, and on his Son with rays direct i One who sits beside, an associate.

2. Cf. Colossians

1.15: “Who is the image of the

invisible God. 3. Two omnipotences are a logical impossibility; the phrase underscores Milton’s view that the Son receives all power from the Father. Cf. John

outer

5.19, “The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father do,” which Milton cites

in Christian Doctrine 1.5 to argue that the Son derives all power from the Father. 4. The literal meaning of “messiah.”

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

Shone full, he all his Father full expressed Ineffably° into his face received, And thus the Filial Godhead answering spake: ““O Father, O Supreme of heav’nly Thrones, First, highest, holiest, best, thou always seek’st To glorify thy Son, I always thee,

6

|

1611

inexpressibly

As is most just; this I my glory account,

My exaltation, and my whole delight, That thou in me well pleased, declar’st thy will 730

Fulfilled, which to fulfill is all my bliss. Scepter and power, thy giving, I assume, And gladlier shall resign, when in the end Thou shalt be all in all, and I in thee

740

“I Vw °

Forever, and in me all whom thou lov’st: But whom thou hat’st, | hate, and can put on Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on, Image of thee in all things; and shall soon, Armed with thy might, rid Heav’n of these rebelled, To their prepared ill mansion driven down To chains of darkness, and th’ undying worm, That from thy just obedience could revolt, Whom to obey is happiness entire. Then shall thy saints unmixed, and from th’ impure Far separate, circling thy holy mount Unfeigned hallelujahs to thee sing, Hymns of high praise, and I among them chief.’ So said, he o'er his scepter bowing, rose From the right hand of Glory where he sat, And the third sacred morn began to shine Dawning through Heavy’n: forth rushed with whirlwind sound The chariot of Paternal Deity,

Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn, Itself instinct with® spirit, but convoyed By four Cherubic shapes, four faces each’

animated by

Had wondrous, as with stars their bodies all 755

And wings were set with eyes, with eyes the wheels Of beryl, and careering fires between;°

760

I lonvi

Over their heads a crystal firmament, Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure Amber, and colors of the show’ry arch.° He in celestial panoply all armed Of radiant urim,’ work divinely wrought, Ascended, at his right hand Victory Sat eagle-winged, beside him hung his bow And quiver with three-bolted thunder stored,* And from about him fierce effusion? rolled

5. The

Son’s living chariot,

with its four-faced

Cherubim—the faces being man, lion, ox, and eagle—is taken from Ezekiel | (especially 1.10) and 10.

6. Cf. Ezekiel 10.12: “And their whole body, and their backs, and their hands, and their wings,

and the wheels, were

rainbow

copious emission full of eyes round about,

even the wheels that they four had.” 7. Gems worn by Aaron in his “breastplate of judgment” (Exodus 28.30).

8. Jove’s bird was the eagle; his weapon was the thunderbolt.

1612

770

~I

75

730

|

JOHN

MILTON

Of smoke and bickering? flame, and sparkles dire; Attended with ten thousand thousand saints, He onward came, far off his coming shone, And twenty thousand? (I their number heard) Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen:

He on the wings of Cherub rode sublime® On the crystalline sky, in sapphire throned, Illustrious® far and wide, but by his own First seen: them unexpected joy surprised, When the great ensign of Messiah blazed Aloft by angels borne, his sign in Heav’n: Under whose conduct Michael soon reduced® His army, circumfused?® on either wing, Under their Head embodied all in one. Before him Power Divine his way prepared; At his command the uprooted hills retired Each to his place, they heard his voice and went Obsequious,° Heav’n his wonted face renewed,

flickering

lifted wp shining

led back spread around

dutiful

And with fresh flow’rets hill and valley smiled. 785

790

795

‘This saw his hapless foes but stood obdured,°

And to rebellious fight rallied their powers Insensate, hope conceiving from despair. In heav’nly Spirits could such perverseness dwell? But to convince the proud what signs avail, Or wonders move th’ obdtrate to relent? They hardened more by what might most reclaim, Grieving? to see his glory, at the sight Took envy, and aspiring to his height, Stood re-embattled! fierce, by force or fraud Weening® to prosper, and at length prevail

hardened

aggrieved thinking

Against God and Messiah, or to fall In universal ruin last, and now

300

sos

si0

To final battle drew; disdaining flight, Or faint retreat; when the great Son of God ‘To all his host on either hand thus spake: “Stand still in bright array ye saints, here stand Ye angels armed, this day from battle rest;? Faithful hath been your warfare, and of God Accepted, fearless in his righteous cause, And as ye have received, so have ye done Invincibly; but of this cursed crew The punishment to other hand belongs, Vengeance is his,* or whose he sole appoints; Number to this day’s work is not ordained Nor multitude, stand only and behold God's indignation on these godless poured By me, not you but me they have despised, 9. Cf. Psalm 68.17: “The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels: the Lord is among them.” 1. Drawn up again in battle formation. 2. Echoes Moses’s words when God destroyed

the Egyptians in the Red Sea (Exodus 14.13): “Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you to day.” 3. Cf. Romans 12.19: “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

6

|

1613

Yet envied; against me is all their rage, Because the Father, t’ whom in Heav’n supreme 815

Kingdom and power and glory appertains, Hath honored me according to his will. Therefore to me their doom he hath assigned; That they may have their wish, to try with me In battle which the stronger proves, they all, Or I alone against them, since by strength They measure all, of other excellence Not emulous,° nor care who them excels;

825

830

835

840

845

850

Nor other strife with them do I vouchsafe.’° “So spake the Son, and into terror changed His count’nance too severe to be beheld And full of wrath bent on his enemies. At once the Four’ spread out their starry wings With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs

desirous of rivaling grant

Of his fierce chariot rolled, as with the sound Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host.

He on his impious foes right onward drove, Gloomy as night; under his burning wheels The steadfast empyrean shook throughout, All but the throne itself of God. Full soon Among them he arrived; in his right hand Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent Before him, such as in their souls infixed Plagues; they astonished? all resistance lost, All courage; down their idle weapons dropped;

struck with fear

O’er shields and helms, and helméd heads he rode

Of Thrones and mighty Seraphim prostrate, That wished the mountains now might be again Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire. Nor less on either side tempestuous fell His arrows, from the fourfold-visaged Four, Distinct? with eyes, and from the living wheels, Distinct alike with multitude of eyes; One spirit in them ruled, and every eye Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious? fire Among th’ accursed, that withered all their strength, And of their wonted? vigor left them drained,

adorned

deadly accustomed

Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fall’n.

855

Yet half his strength he put not forth, but checked His thunder in mid-volley, for he meant Not to destroy, but root them out of Heav’n: The overthrown he raised, and as a herd

860

Of goats or timorous flock together thronged Drove them before him thunderstruck, pursued With terrors and with furies to the bounds And crystal wall of Heav’n, which op’ning wide, Rolled inward, and a spacious gap disclosed Into the wasteful° deep; the monstrous sight 4. The four “Cherubic shapes” of line 753.

desolate

1614

|

JOHN

MILTON

Strook them with horror backward, but far worse 865

Urged them behind; headlong themselves they threw Down from the verge of Heav’n, eternal wrath Burnt after them to the bottomless pit. “Hell heard th’ unsufferable noise, Hell saw Heav’n ruining® from Heav’n, and would have fled

falling headlong

Affrighted; but strict fate had cast too deep Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound.

Nine days they fell; confounded Chaos roared, And felt tenfold confusion in their fall Through his wild anarchy, so huge a rout® Encumbered® him with ruin: Hell at last

defeated army burdened

Yawning received them whole, and on them closed,

880

Hell their fit habitation fraught with fire Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. Disburdened Heav’n rejoiced, and soon repaired Her mural® breach, returning whence it rolled. Sole victor from th’ expulsion of his foes Messiah his triumphal chariot turned:

in the wall

To meet him all his saints, who silent stood

885

Eyewitnesses of his almighty acts, With jubilee® advanced; and as they went, Shaded with branching palm, each order bright Sung triumph, and him sung victorious King,

joyful shouts

Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion giv’n,

890

895

Worthiest to reign: he celebrated rode Triumphant through mid-Heav’n, into the courts And temple of his mighty Father throned On high: who into glory him received, Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss. “Thus measuring things in Heav’n by things on earth At thy request, and that thou may’st beware By what is past, to thee I have revealed What might have else to human race been hid; The discord which befell, and war in Heav’n

Among th’ angelic powers,° and the deep fall Of those too high aspiring, who rebelled 900

910

armies

With Satan, he who envies now thy state,

Who now is plotting how he may seduce Thee also from obedience, that with him Bereaved of happiness thou may’st partake His punishment, eternal misery; Which would be all his solace and revenge, As a despite® done against the Most High, Thee once to gain companion of his woe. But listen not to his temptations, warn Thy weaker;? let it profit thee to have heard By terrible example the reward Of disobedience; firm they might have stood, Yet fell; remember, and fear to transgress.” 5. Eve, who is, however, present for this story.

malicious act

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

7

|

1615

Book 7 The Argument Raphael at the request of Adam relates how and wherefore this world was first created; that God, after the expelling of Satan and his angels out of heaven, declared his pleasure to create another world and other creatures to dwell therein; sends his Son with glory and attendance of angels to perform the work of creation in six days: the angels celebrate with hymns the performance thereof, and his reascension into heaven.

uw

Descend from Heav’n Urania,! by that name If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine Following, above th’ Olympian hill I soar, Above the flight of Pegasean wing.” The meaning, not the name I call: for thou Nor of the muses nine, nor on the top Of old Olympus dwell’st, but heav’nly born Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed, Thou with eternal Wisdom? didst converse,°

Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play In presence of th’ Almighty Father, pleased With thy celestial song. Up led by thee Into the Heav’n of Heav’ns I have presumed, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, Thy temp’ring;° with like safety guided down Return me to my native element: Lest from this flying steed unreined (as once Bellerophon,’ though from a lower clime)°

Dismounted, on th’ Aleian field I fall Erroneous® there to wander and forlorn. Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound Within the visible diurnal sphere;’ Standing on earth, not rapt° above the pole,

associate

made suitable by thee

region straying

transported, enraptured

More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged 25

To hoarse or mute, though fall’n on evil days, On evil days though fall’n, and evil tongues;

In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,° And solitude; yet not alone, while thou 1. Urania, the Greek Muse of astronomy, had been made into the Muse of Christian poetry by du Bartas and other religious poets. Milton, however, constructs another derivation for her (line

5ff.). Milton begins Book 7 with a third proem (lines 1-39). 2. Pegasus, the flying horse of inspired poetry, suggests (in connection with Bellerophon, line 18) Milton’s sense of perilous audacity in writing this poem. 3. In Proverbs 8.24—31 Wisdom tells of her activ-

myth in which the Muse ofdivine poetry (“celestial song,” line 12) is Wisdom’s “sister’—also, thereby, originating from God. 4. Bellerophon incurred the gods’ anger when he tried to fly to heaven upon Pegasus; Zeus sent an insect to sting the horse, and Bellerophon fell down to the “Aleian field” (plain of error), where

ities before the Creation: “Then I was by him [God],

he wandered alone and blind until his death. 5. The universe, which appears to rotate daily. 6. After the Restoration of Charles Il (May 1660) and until the passage of the Act of Oblivion (August 1660), Milton was in danger of death and

as one brought up with him: and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him.” Milton describes “eternal Wisdom’ as a daughter of God (personification of his wisdom) and devises a

eral of his republican colleagues were hanged, disembowelled, and quartered for their part in the revolution and regicide.

dismemberment

(like Orpheus, lines 34—35); sev-

1616

30

|

JOHN

MILTON

Visit’st my slumbers nightly, or when morn Purples the east: still govern thou my song, Urania, and fit audience find, though few. But drive far off the barbarous dissonance Of Bacchus and his revelers, the race

35

Of that wild rout that tore In Rhodope, where woods To rapture, till the savage Both harp and voice;’ nor

the Thracian bard and rocks had ears clamor drowned could the Muse defend

Her son.® So fail not thou, who thee implores: 40

For thou art heav’nly, she an empty dream. Say goddess, what ensued when Raphael, The affable Archangel, had forewarned Adam by dire example to beware Apostasy, by what befell in Heaven To those apostates, lest the like befall In Paradise to Adam or his race,

Charged not to touch the interdicted tree, If they transgress, and slight that sole command,

60

So easily obeyed amid the choice Of all tastes else® to please their appetite, Though wand’ring. He with his consorted® Eve The story heard attentive, and was filled With admiration,° and deep muse to hear Of things so high and strange, things to their thought So unimaginable as hate in Heav’n, And war so near the peace of God in bliss With such confusion: but the evil soon Driv’n back redounded? as a flood on those From whom it sprung, impossible to mix With blessedness. Whence Adam soon repealed® The doubts that in his heart arose: and now

besides wedded amazement

flowed back abandoned

Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know

65

What nearer might concern him, how this world Of Heav’n and earth conspicuous? first began, When, and whereof created, for what cause, What within Eden or without was done Before his memory, as one whose drouth® Yet scarce allayed still eyes the current® stream, Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites, Proceeded thus to ask his heav’nly guest:

visible

thirst

flowing

“Great things, and full of wonder in our ears, Far differing from this world, thou hast revealed

Divine interpreter, by favor sent Down from the empyrean to forewarn Us timely of what might else° have been our loss, 7. The music of the “Thracian bard” Orpheus, type of the poet, charmed even “woods and rocks,” but his song was drowned out by the Bacchantes, a “wild rout” of screaming women who murdered and dismembered him and threw his

body parts into the Hebrus River, which rises in

otherwise

the “Rhodope” mountains. Milton fears that a similar “barbarous dissonance” unleashed bythe Restoration will drown out his voice and threaten his life. 8. Orpheus’s mother is Calliope, Muse of epic poetry.

PARADISE

80

EOST,

Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach: For which to the Infinitely Good we owe Immortal thanks, and his admonishment Receive with solemn purpose to observe Immutably his sov’reign will, the end° Of what we are. But since thou hast vouchsafed

BOOK

7

|

1617

purpose

Gently for our instruction to impart

Things above earthly thought, which yet concerned Our knowing, as to Highest Wisdom seemed, Deign to descend now lower, and relate 85

90

95

100

110

115

120

What may no less perhaps avail us known, How first began this Heav’n which we behold Distant so high, with moving fires adorned Innumerable, and this which yields or fills All space, the ambient® air wide interfused Embracing round this florid® earth, what cause Moved the Creator in his holy rest Through all eternity so late to build In Chaos,’ and the work begun, how soon Absolved,° if unforbid thou may’st unfold What we, not to explore the secrets ask Of his eternal empire, but the more To magnify° his works, the more we know. And the great light of day yet wants to run Much of his race though steep, suspense® in Heav’n Held by thy voice, thy potent voice he hears, And longer will delay to hear thee tell His generation,° and the rising birth Of nature from the unapparent' deep: Or if the star of evening and the moon Haste to thy audience, night with her will bring Silence, and sleep list’ning to thee will watch,° Or we can bid his absence, till thy song End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine.” Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought: And thus the godlike angel answered mild: “This also thy request with caution asked Obtain: though to recount almighty works What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice, Or heart of man suffice to comprehend? Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve To glorify the Maker, and infer® Thee also happier, shall not be withheld Thy hearing, such commission from above I have received, to answer thy desire Of knowledge within bounds; beyond abstain To ask, nor let thine own inventions® hope Things not revealed, which th’ invisible King, 9, Adam's question about God’s actions before the Creation was often cited as an example of presumptuous and dangerous speculation, especially when, as here, it implies mutability in God.

yielding flowery

finished

glorify attentive, suspended

creation

stay awake

make, render

speculations

But in Milton’s Eden, error that is not deliberate is not sinful. 1. Invisible, because dark and without form.

1618

125

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JOHN

MILTON

Only omniscient, hath suppressed in night, To none communicable in earth or Heaven: Enough is left besides to search and know. But knowledge is as food, and needs no less Her temperance over appetite, to know In measure what the mind may well contain,

130

Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind. “Know then, that after Lucifer from Heav’n (So call him, brighter once amidst the host

135

40

Of angels, than that star the stars among)* Fell with his flaming legions through the deep Into his place, and the great Son returned Victorious with his saints, th’ Omnipotent Eternal Father from his throne beheld Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake: ““At least our envious foe hath failed, who thought All like himself rebellious, by whose aid This inaccessible high strength, the seat

Of Deity supreme, us dispossessed,? He trusted to have seized, and into fraud°

deception, error

Drew many, whom their place knows here no more; 145

iso

iss

Yet far the greater part have kept, I see,

Their station, Heav’n yet populous retains Number sufficient to possess her realms Though wide, and this high temple to frequent With ministeries due and solemn rites: But lest his heart exalt him in the harm Already done, to have dispeopled Heav’n, My damage fondly°® deemed, I can repair That detriment, if such it be to lose

foolishly

Self-lost, and in a moment will create Another world, out of one man a race Of men innumerable, there to dwell,

Not here, till by degrees of merit raised They open to themselves at length the way Up hither, under long obedience tried, 160

And earth be changed to Heav’n and Heav’n to earth,

One kingdom, joy and union without end. Meanwhile inhabit lax,° ye Powers of Heav’n;

166

i70

And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee This I perform, speak thou, and be it done: My overshadowing Spirit and might with thee I send along, ride forth, and bid the deep Within appointed bounds be heav’n and earth, Boundless the deep, because I am who fill Infinitude, nor vacuous the space. Though I uncircumscribed myself retire,

2. I.e., Lucifer (Satan) was once brighter among the angels than the star bearing his name is among the stars.

spread out

3. Le., once he had dispossessed us. 4. God identifies himself as Creator, the Son as his agent to speak his creating Word.

PARADISE

175

is0

iss

EOSik,

And put not forth my goodness, which is free To act or not,’ necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.’ “So spake th’ Almighty and to what he spake His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect. Immediate are the acts of God, more swift Than time or motion, but to human ears Cannot without process of speech be told, So told as earthly notion® can receive.° Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heav’n When such was heard declared the Almighty’s will; ‘Glory’ they sung to the Most High, ‘good will To future men, and in their dwellings peace: Glory to him whose just avenging ire Had driven out th’ ungodly from his sight And th’ habitations of the just; to him Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordained

|BOOM

7

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1619

human understanding

Good out of evil to create, instead

Of Spirits malign a better race to bring 190 ~—Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse His good to worlds and ages infinite.’ So sang the hierarchies: meanwhile the Son On his great expedition now appeared, Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crowned 195 Of majesty divine, sapience® and love

wisdom

Immense, and all his Father in him shone.

About his chariot numberless were poured Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones,

200

205

210

And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged, From the armory of God, where stand of old Myriads between two brazen mountains lodged Against® a solemn day, harnessed at hand, Celestial equipage; and now came forth Spontaneous, for within them spirit lived, Attendant on their Lord: Heav’n opened wide Her ever-during® gates, harmonious sound On golden hinges moving, to let forth The King of Glory”in his powerful Word And Spirit coming to create new worlds. On heav'nly ground they stood, and from the shore They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss Outrageous? as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,

215

in preparation for

lasting

enormous,

violent

Up from the bottom turned by furious winds And surging waves, as mountains to assault Heav’n’s height, and with the center mix the pole. “‘Silence, ye troubled waves, and thou deep, peace,’ 5. Milton’s God creates out of Chaos, not out of nothing; the matter of Chaos emanated from God, and Chaos is therefore “infinite” because God fills

it even while he withholds his “goodness” (creating power) from it. Neither necessity nor chance affect in any way God's freely willed creative act. 6. Raphael explains the principle of accommoda-

tion, whereby God's acts are said to be translated into terms humans can understand: here, a six-day

creation. This principle allows for an escape from biblical literalism. 7. Cf. Psalm 24.9: “Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.”

1620

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JOHN

MILTON

Said then th’ Omnific® Word, ‘your discord end’:

all-creating

“Nor stayed, but on the wings of Cherubim Uplifted, in paternal glory rode Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;

For Chaos heard his voice: him all his train Followed in bright procession to behold Creation, and the wonders of his might. Then stayed the fervid® wheels, and in his hand He took the golden compasses, prepared

burning

In God’s eternal store, to circumscribe

This universe, and all created things: One foot he centered, and the other turned

Round through the vast profundity obscure, And said, ‘Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,

This be thy just® circumference O world. Thus God the heav’n® created, thus the earth,

i) w wi

exact

the sky

Matter unformed and void: darkness profound Covered th’ abyss: but on the wat’ry calm His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread, And vital virtue® infused, and vital warmth

power

Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purged The black tartareous cold infernal dregs* Adverse to life: then founded, then conglobed 240

i) as wi)

nN wi wr

260

Like things to like, the rest to several place Disparted, and between spun out the air, And earth self-balanced on her center hung. “‘Let there be light,’ said God,’ and forthwith light Ethereal, first of things, quintessence! pure Sprung from the deep, and from her native east To journey through the airy gloom began, Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle Sojourned the while. God saw the light was good; And light from darkness by the hemisphere Divided: light the day, and darkness night He named. Thus was the first day ev’n and morn: Nor passed uncelebrated, nor unsung By the celestial choirs, when orient light Exhaling?® first from darkness they beheld; Birthday of heav’n° and earth; with joy and shout The hollow universal orb they filled, And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised God and his works, Creator him they sung,

rising as vapor

the sky

Both when first evening was, and when first morn.

“Again, God said, ‘Let there be firmament d

Amid the waters, and let it divide

8. Crusty, gritty stuff left over from the elements infused with life that make up the universe; it is

associated with Hell (“infernal,” “tartarous”) and presumably used in its composition. 9. God's creating words, here and later, are quoted from Genesis 1—2, but Milton freely elab-

orates the creatures’ responses to those words. 1. Ether was thought to be a fifth element or “quintessence,” the substance of the celestial bodies above the moon, 2. One twenty-four-hour period measured inthe Hebrew manner from sundown to sundown,

PARADISE

LOST,

The waters from the waters’: and God made The firmament, expanse of liquid,° pure, 265

Transparent, elemental air diffused In circuit to the uttermost convex®

Main® ocean flowed, not idle, but with warm

290

295

300

Prolific humor’? soft’ning all her globe, Fermented the great mother to conceive, Satiate with genial° moisture, when God said, ‘Be gathered now ye waters under heav’ n Into one place, and let dry land appear. Immediately the mountains huge appear Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky: So high as heaved the tumid? hills, so low Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep, Capacious bed of waters: thither they Hasted with glad precipitance,° uprolled As drops on dust conglobing from the dry; Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct® For haste; such flight the great command impressed On the swift floods: as armies at the call Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard) Troop to their standard, so the wat’ry throng, Wave rolling after wave, where way they found, If steep, with torrent rapture,’ if through plain, Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill, But they, or° underground, or circuit wide

With serpent error? wand’ring, found their way, And on the washy ooze deep channels wore; Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, 305

310

7

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1621

clear, bright vault

Of this great round:° partition firm and sure, The waters underneath from those above Dividing: for as earth, so he the world Built on circumfluous® waters calm, in wide Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule Of Chaos far removed, lest fierce extremes Contiguous might distemper the whole frame:? And heav’n® he named the firmament: so ev’n And morning chorus sung the second day. “The earth was formed, but in the womb as yet Of waters, embryon* immature involved? Appeared not: over all the face of earth 280

BOOK

universe

flowing around

the sky

enfolded of great expanse generative moisture generative

swollen

headlong fall surge forward

force whether

winding course

All but within those banks, where rivers now

Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.® The dry land, earth, and the great receptacle Of congregated waters he called seas: And saw that it was good, and said, ‘Let th’ earth Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed, And fruit tree yielding fruit after her kind, 3. Disturb the order and mixture of the elements and the created “frame” of the universe.

4. The earth is at first the “embryo” enveloped in

following

a “womb of waters” and is then herself the “great mother” (line 281), made ready (“fermented”) to conceive and bear every other being.

1622

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JOHN

MILTON

Whose seed is in herself upon the earth.’ He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then 315

Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned, Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad Her universal face with pleasant green, Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flow’red

Op’ning their various colors, and made gay Her bosom smelling sweet: and these scarce blown,° Forth flourished thick the clust’ring vine, forth crept The swelling gourd, up stood the corny® reed Embattled in her field: add the humble® shrub,

And bush with frizzled hair implicit:° last Rose as in dance the stately trees, and spread 325

Their branches hung with copious fruit; or gemmed?

blossomed

hard as horn low-growing tangled

put forth buds

Their blossoms: with high woods the hills were crowned, With tufts the valleys and each fountain side, With borders long the rivers. That earth now Seemed like to Heav’n, a seat where gods might dwell, 330

Or wander with delight, and love to haunt

Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rained Upon the earth, and man to till the ground None was, but from the earth a dewy mist Went up and watered all the ground, and each 335

340

345

360

Plant of the field, which ere it was in the earth God made, and every herb, before it grew

On the green stem; God saw that it was good: So evn and morn recorded the third day. “Again th’ Almighty spake: ‘Let there be lights High in th’ expanse of heaven® to divide The day from night; and let them be for signs, For seasons, and for days, and circling years, And let them be for lights as I ordain Their office® in the firmament of heav’n To give light on the earth’; and it was so. And God made two great lights, great for their use To man, the greater to have rule by day, The less by night altern:° and made the stars, And set them in the firmament of heav’n To illuminate the earth, and rule the day In their vicissitude,° and rule the night, And light from darkness to divide. God saw, Surveying his great work, that it was good: For of celestial bodies first the sun A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first, Though of ethereal mold:° then formed the moon Globose, and every magnitude of stars, And sowed with stars the heav’n thick as a field: Of light by far the greater part he took, Transplanted from her cloudy shrine,’ and placed In the sun’s orb, made porous to receive 5. The “cloudy tabernacle” of line 248.

the sky

function

in turns

regular alternation

fashioned from ether

PARADISE

365

LOST,

And drink the liquid light, firm to retain Her gathered beams, great palace now of light. Hither as to their fountain other stars Repairing,° in their golden urns draw light, And hence the morning planet gilds her horns;° By tincture® or reflection they augment

370

Their small peculiar,° though from human sight So far remote, with dimunition seen. First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, Regent of day, and all th’ horizon round Invested with bright rays, jocund® to run His longitude® through heav’n’s high road: the gray Dawn, and the Pleiades’ before him danced Shedding sweet influence: less bright the moon, But opposite in leveled west was set His mirror, with full face borrowing her light From him, for other light she needed none In that aspect,° and still that distance keeps

380

Till night, then in the east her turn she shines,

390

Revolved on heav’n’'s great axle, and her reign With thousand lesser lights dividual® holds, With thousand thousand stars, that then appeared Spangling the hemisphere: then first adorned With their bright luminaries that set and rose, Glad®° evening and glad morn crowned the fourth day. And God said, ‘Let the waters generate Reptile? with spawn abundant, living soul: And let fowl fly above the earth, with wings Displayed® on the op’n firmament of heav’n.’

BOOK

7

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1623

resorting

absorption own small light

merry distance

when full

divided

bright, gay creeping animals spread out

And God created the great whales, and each

Soul The And And

living, each that crept, which plenteously waters generated by their kinds, every bird of wing after his kind; saw that it was good, and blessed them, saying,

‘Be fruitful, multiply, and in the seas

400

And lakes and running streams the waters fill; And let the fowl be multiplied on the earth.’ Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay With fry° innumerable swarm, and shoals Of fish that with their fins and shining scales

young fish

Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft

405

Bank the mid-sea:* part single or with mate Graze the seaweed their pasture, and through groves Of coral stray, or sporting with quick glance Show to the sun their waved? coats dropped? with gold, Or in their pearly shells at ease, attend® Moist nutriment, or under rocks their food 6. Venus, which Galileo’s telescope found to be crescent-shaped in her first quarter. 7. A cluster of seven stars in the constellation Taurus. They appear at dawn ahead of the sun. See Job 38.31.

striped /flecked watch for

8. The fishes’ darting motions resemble boats oared now on one side, now on the other (“sculls”),

as they turn they seem to form banks within the sea.

1624

|

JOHN

MILTON

In jointed armor watch: on smooth the seal, And bended? dolphins play: part huge of bulk Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait Tempest® the ocean: there leviathan! Hugest of living creatures, on the deep Stretched like a promontory sleeps or swims, And seems a moving land, and at his gills Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea. Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens and shores Their brood as numerous hatch, from th’ egg that soon Bursting with kindly° rupture forth disclosed Their callow° young, but feathered soon and fledge They summed their pens,’ and soaring th’ air sublime With clang® despised the ground, under a cloud

stir up

natural without feathers harsh cry

In prospect;? there the eagle and the stork

430

435

440

On cliffs and cedar tops their eyries build: Part loosely°® wing the region,° part more wise In common, ranged in figure wedge their way,* Intelligent® of seasons, and set forth Their aery caravan high over seas Flying, and over lands with mutual wing Easing their flight;> so steers the prudent crane Her annual voyage, borne on winds; the air Floats,° as they pass, fanned with unnumbered plumes: From branch to branch the smaller birds with song Solaced the woods, and spread their painted wings Till evn, nor then the solemn nightingale Ceased warbling, but all night tuned her soft lays:° Others on silver lakes and rivers bathed Their downy breast; the swan, with archéd neck Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows Her state with oary feet:° yet oft they quit The dank,° and rising on stiff pennons, tow’r® The mid-aerial sky: others on ground

separately / sky

understanding

undulates

songs

pool / soar into

Walked firm; the crested cock whose clarion sounds

The silent hours, and th’ other® whose gay train Adorns him, colored with the florid hue Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus With fish replenished,° and the air with fowl, Evening and morn solemnized the fifth day.

the peacock

fully supplied

“The sixth, and of creation last arose 450

With evening harps and matin,? when God said, ‘Let th’ earth bring forth soul living in her kind, Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the earth, Each in their kind.’ The earth obeyed, and straight Op'’ning her fertile womb teemed? at a birth 9. Curved in leaping. “Smooth”: a stretch of calm water. 1. The great whale (see 1.200—208). Brought their feathers to full growth. . The ground seems covered by a cloud of birds. BWW Fly in a wedge formation.

morning

brought forth

5. Birds were thought to support each other with their wings when they flew in formation, 6. The swan’s outstretched (“mantling”) wings form a mantle, and it seems like a monarch on a royal barge rowed by its own “oary” feet.

PARADISE

LOST,

Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms, Limbed and full grown: out of the ground up rose As from his lair the wild beast where he wons°

BOOK

7

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1625

dwells

In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den;

465

Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walked: The cattle in the fields and meadows green: Those rare and solitary, these’ in flocks Pasturing at once,° and in broad herds upsprung. The grassy clods® now calved, now half appeared The tawny lion, pawing to get free His hinder parts, then springs as broke from bonds, And rampant shakes his brinded® mane; the ounce,° The libbard,° and the tiger, as the mole Rising, the crumbled earth above them threw In hillocks; the swift stag from underground Bore up his branching head: scarce from his mold Behemoth! biggest born of earth upheaved His vastness: fleeced the flocks and bleating rose, As plants: ambiguous between sea and land

immediately mounds of earth

streaked / lynx leopard

The river-horse’ and scaly crocodile. At once came forth whatever creeps the ground,

Insect or worm;! those waved their limber fans For wings, and smallest lineaments exact In all the liveries decked of summer’s pride With spots of gold and purple, azure and green: 480

These as a line their long dimension drew,

Streaking the ground with sinuous trace; not all Minims? of nature; some of serpent kind

Wondrous in length and corpulence involved® Their snaky folds, and added wings. First crept 485

490

The parsimonious emmet,’ provident

Of future, in small room large heart° enclosed, Pattern ofjust equality perhaps Hereafter, joined in her popular tribes Of commonalty:? swarming next appeared The female bee that feeds her husband drone Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells

smallest animals coiled

thrifty ant great wisdom

With honey stored: the rest are numberless, And thou their natures know’st, and gav’st them names,’ 495

Needless to thee repeated; nor unknown The serpent subtlest beast of all the field, Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes And hairy mane? terrific,° though to thee Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. 7. “These” are the domestic cattle who come forth in “flocks” and “herds” in pastures; “those” are the wild beasts who come forth “in pairs” (line 459), and spread out (“rare”) at wide intervals.

8. A huge biblical beast (Job 40.15), often iden-

tified with the elephant. 9. Translates the Greek name “hippopotamus.”

1. Any creeping creature, including serpents. 2. The ant will become the symbol ofa frugal and self-governing republic (“pattern ofjust equality”)

terrifying

with the “popular” (populous, plebian) tribes of common people (‘commonalty”) joined in rule (lines 486—89); Milton made it such a symbol in his prose tract The Ready and Easy Way. Bees here (lines 489-93) suggest delightful ease but are not yet (as in 1.768—75) a symbol of monarchy and associated with Hell. 3. See 8.342—54, and Genesis 2.19—20. 4. Sea serpents were so described in Aeneid 2.203=7.

1626

500

|

JOHN

MILTON

Now heav’n in all her glory shone, and rolled Her motions, as the great First Mover’s hand First wheeled their course; earth in her rich attire Consummate® lovely smiled; air, water, earth, By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walked

Frequent;° and of the sixth day yet remained; There wanted yet the master work, the end° Of all yet done; a creature who not prone And brute as other creatures, but endued With sanctity of reason, might erect His stature,’ and upright with front° serene Govern the rest, self-knowing, and from thence Magnanimous to correspond® with Heav’n, But grateful to acknowledge whence his good Descends, thither with heart and voice and eyes

complete, perfect in throngs purpose

brow, face

Directed in devotion, to adore

And worship God supreme, who made him chief Of all his works: therefore th’ Omnipotent Eternal Father (for where is not he

Present) thus to his Son audibly spake: ““Let us make now man in our image, man 520

In our similitude, and let them rule

Over the fish and fowl of sea and air, Beast of the field, and over all the earth,

And every creeping thing that creeps the ground.’ This said, he formed thee, Adam, thee O man 525

530

a7) Wwwi)

Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breathed The breath of life; in his own image he Created thee, in the image of God Express,° and thou becam’st a living soul. Male he created thee, but thy consort

exact, manifest

Female for race; then blessed mankind, and said, ‘Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth, Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air,

And every living thing that moves on the earth.’ Wherever thus created, for no place Is yet distinct by name, thence,° as thou know’st

He brought thee into this delicious® grove, This garden, planted with the trees of God,

from there

delightful

Delectable both to behold and taste; 540

Wa + vw

And freely all their pleasant fruit for food Gave thee, all sorts are here that all th’ earth yields, Variety without end; but of the tree Which tasted works knowledge of good and evil, Thou may’st not; in the day thou eat’st, thou di’st; Death is the penalty imposed, beware, And govern well thy appetite, lest Sin Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death. 5. Both “stand erect” and “elevate his condition”: his erect stance was understood to signify

that he was created for Heaven, 6. Both “be in harmony” and “communicate.”

PARADISE

EOISir,

BOOK

7

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1627

Here finished he, and all that he had made 550

555

560

565

uwI o

vw“s wi

580

585

Viewed, and behold all was entirely good; So evn and morn accomplished the sixth day: Yet not till the Creator from his work Desisting, though unwearied, up returned Up to the Heav’n of Heav'ns his high abode, Thence to behold his new-created world Th’ addition of his empire, how it showed In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair, Answering his great Idea.’ Up he rode Followed with acclamation and the sound Symphonious of ten thousand harps that tuned® Angelic harmonies: the earth, the air Resounded (thou remember’st, for thou heard’st), The heav’ns and all the constellations rung, The planets in their stations list’ning stood, While the bright pomp® ascended jubilant. “Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung, ‘Open, ye Heav’ns, your living doors; let in The great Creator from his work returned Magnificent,® his six days’ work, a world; Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deign To visit oft the dwellings of just men Delighted, and with frequent intercourse Thither will send his wingéd messengers On errands of supernal® grace.’ So sung The glorious train ascending: he through Heav’n, That opened wide her blazing? portals, led To God’s eternal house direct the way, A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear, Seen in the galaxy, that Milky Way Which nightly as a circling zone® thou seest Powdered with stars. And now on earth the seventh Evening arose in Eden, for the sun Was set, and twilight from the east came on, Forerunning night; when at the holy mount Of Heav’n’s high-seated top, th’ imperial throne Of Godhead, fixed forever firm and sure,

performed

triumphal procession

heavenly radiant

belt

The Filial Power arrived, and sat him down

With his great Father, for he’ also went Invisible, yet stayed (such privilege 590

Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordained,°

ordered, enacted

Author and end of all things, and from work Now resting, blessed and hallowed the sev’nth day, As resting on that day from all his work, But not in silence holy kept; the harp Had work and rested not, the solemn pipe,

7. Eternal archetype or pattern, as in Plato: con-

cept in the mind of God. 8. Cf. Psalm 24.7: “Lift up your heads, O ye

gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and

the King of glory shall come in.” 9. The Father.

1628

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JOHN

MILTON

And dulcimer, all organs® of sweet stop,

wind instruments

All sounds on fret! by string or golden wire Tempered?® soft tunings, intermixed with voice Choral® or unison: of incense clouds 600

brought into harmony in parts

Fuming from golden censers hid the mount. “Creation and the six days’ acts they sung: ‘Great are thy works, Jehovah, infinite

605

610

Thy power; what thought can measure thee or tongue Relate thee; greater now in thy return Than from the giant? angels; thee that day Thy thunders magnified; but to create Is greater than created to destroy. Who can impair thee, Mighty King, or bound Thy empire? Easily the proud attempt Of Spirits apostate and their counsels vain Thou hast repelled, while impiously they thought Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw

615

The number of thy worshippers. Who seeks To lessen thee, against his purpose serves To manifest the more thy might: his evil Thou usest, and from thence creat’st more good. Witness this new-made world, another heav’n

From Heaven gate not far, founded in view On the clear hyaline,* the glassy sea; 620

Of amplitude almost immense,° with stars Numerous, and every star perhaps a world

immeasurable

Of destined habitation; but thou know’st

Their seasons: among these the seat of men, Earth with her nether ocean circumfused,°

surrounded, bathed

Their pleasant dwellingplace. Thrice happy men, And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanced

Created in his image, there to dwell And worship him, and in reward to rule

y,

Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air, 630

635

640

And multiply a race of worshippers Holy and just: thrice happy if they know Their happiness, and persevere upright.’ “So sung they, and the empyrean rung, With hallelujahs:* thus was Sabbath kept. And thy request think now fulfilled, that asked How first this world and face of things began, And what before thy memory was done From the beginning, that posterity Informed by thee might know; if else thou seek’st Aught, not surpassing human measure, say.”

1. Bar on the fingerboard of a stringed instrument. “Dulcimer”: the Hebrew bagpipe (Daniel 3.5).

3. From the Greek word for glass (Revelation 4.6), the waters above the firmament as con-

Giants’ revolt against Jove is a classical type or

earth’s seas.

version of the angels’ rebellion.

4, Hebrew, “praise the Lord.”

2. The allusion

implies that the myth of the

trasted with the “nether ocean” (line 624), the

PARADISE

LOST,

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1629

Book 8 The Argument Adam

inquires concerning celestial motions, is doubtfully answered, and

exhorted to search rather things more worthy of knowledge: Adam

assents,

and still desirous to detain Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation, his placing in Paradise, his talk with God concerning solitude and fit society, his first meeting and nuptials with Eve, his discourse with the angel thereupon; who after admonitions repeated departs.

The angel ended, and in Adam’s ear So charming? left his voice, that he a while Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear; Then as new-waked thus gratefully replied:' “What thanks sufficient, or what recompense

spell-binding

Equal have I to render thee, divine

Historian, who thus largely hast allayed The thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsafed This friendly condescension to relate Things else by me unsearchable, now heard With wonder, but delight, and, as is due,

With glory attributed to the high Creator; something yet of doubt remains, Which only thy solution? can resolve.

explanation

When I behold this goodly frame,° this world

the universe

Of heav’n and earth consisting, and compute Their magnitudes, this earth a spot, a grain, An atom, with the firmament compared And all her numbered? stars, that seem to roll

te wn

30

Spaces incomprehensible (for such Their distance argues and their swift return Diurnal)° merely to officiate? light Round this opacous? earth, this punctual® spot, One day and night; in all their vast survey Useless besides; reasoning I oft admire,° How Nature wise and frugal could commit Such disproportions, with superfluous hand So many nobler bodies to create, Greater so manifold,’ to this one use, For aught appears,° and on their orbs impose Such restless revolution day by day Repeated, while the sedentary® earth, That better might with far less compass° move, Served by more noble than herself, attains

numerous

daily / supply dark / pointlike wonder

so

much

greater

as it seems

motionless circular

course

Her end without least motion, and receives,

As tribute such a sumless® journey brought Of incorporeal® speed, her warmth and light;

incalculable

like that ofspirits

1. When Milton divided Book 7 of the ten-book version of 1667 into the present Books 7 and 8, he replaced a line reading “To whom thus Adam gratefully replied” with these introductory lines.

1630

40

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JOHN

MILTON

Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails.” So spake our sire, and by his count’nance seemed Ent’ring on studious thoughts abstruse, which Eve Perceiving where she sat retired in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat, And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flow’rs,

To visit? how they prospered, bud and bloom, Her nursery;” they at her coming sprung And touched by her fair tendance gladlier grew. Yet went she not as not with such discourse Delighted, or not capable her ear Of what was high: such pleasure she reserved, Adam relating, she sole auditress; Her husband the relater she preferred Before the angel, and of him to ask

see

Chose rather;* he, she knew, would intermix 55

60

Grateful° digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses, from his lip Not words alone pleased her. O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honor joined? With goddess-like demeanor forth she went; Not unattended, for on her as queen

A pomp? of winning Graces? waited still, And from about her shot darts of desire Into all eyes to wish her still in sight. And Raphael now to Adam’s doubt proposed Benevolent and facile° thus replied.

70

procession

easy, affable

“To ask or search I blame thee not, for heav’n Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years: This to attain, whether heav’n move or earth, Imports not, if thou reckon right; the rest®

From man or angel the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets to be scanned® by them who ought Rather admire;° or if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric° of the heav’ns Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide® Hereafter, when they come to model heav’n 80

gratifying

judged critically marvel design wide of the mark

And calculate the stars, how they will wield

The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive ‘To save appearances,° how gird the sphere With centric and eccentric scribbled o’er, 2. Her garden, where she “nurses” her flowers and plants, 3. The emphasis on choice suggests that Eve is not bound in Eden by the Pauline directive (1 Corinthians

14.34—35)

that

women

refrain

from speaking in church and instead learn at home from their husbands, but she voluntarily

and for her own pleasure observes this hierarchical decorum. 4. The Graces attended on Venus. 5. Presumably, God’s ways with other worlds and other creatures inhabiting them (if any). 6. To find ways of explaining discrepancies between their hypotheses and observed facts.

PARADISE

ss

90

95

100

LOST,

Cycle and epicycle,’ orb in orb: Already by thy reasoning this I guess, Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest That bodies bright and greater should not serve The less not bright, nor heav’n such journeys run, Earth sitting still, when she alone receives The benefit: consider first, that great Or bright infers® not excellence: the earth Though, in comparison of heav’n, so small, Nor glistering, may of solid good contain More plenty than the sun that barren shines, Whose virtue on itself works no effect, But in the fruitful earth; there first received His beams, unactive® else, their vigor find. Yet not to earth are those bright luminaries Officious,° but to thee earth’s habitant. ~And for the heav’n’s wide circuit, let it speak The Maker’s high magnificence, who built So spacious, and his line stretched out so far;

BOOK

8

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1631

implies

ineffective

attentive, dutiful

That man may know he dwells not in his own;

105

An edifice too large for him to fill, Lodged in a small partition, and the rest Ordained for uses to his Lord best known. The swiftness of those circles°® attribute,

110

Though numberless,° to his omnipotence, That to corporeal substances could add Speed almost spiritual;° me thou think’st not slow, Who since the morning hour set out from Heav’n Where God resides, and ere midday arrived In Eden, distance inexpressible

orbits innumerable

that of angels

By numbers that have name. But this I urge,

1s

Admitting motion in the heav’ns, to show Invalid that which thee to doubt it moved;

120

Not that I so affirm, though so it seem To thee who hast thy dwelling here on earth.® God to remove his ways from human sense, Placed heav’n from earth so far, that earthly sight, If it presume, might err in things too high, And no advantage gain. What if the sun Be center to the world, and other stars

i28

By his attractive virtue° and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds?°

magnetism circles

Their wand’ring course now high, now low, then hid,

Progressive, retrograde,° or standing still, 7. In the Ptolemaic system, observed irregularities in the motion of heavenly bodies were first explained by hypothesizing eccentric orbits, then by adding epicycles, which were smaller orbits whose centers ride on the circumference of the main eccentric circles and carry the planets. The Copernican system also had some recourse to epicycles. 8. Raphael declines to “reveal” astronomical truth

backward

to Adam, leaving that matter open to human scientific speculation. He suggests here that Adam's Ptolemaic assumptions result from his earthbound perspective, and he implies that angels see the universe in different terms. In the following lines (122—58) he sets forth advanced sci-

entific notions Adam had not imagined: not only Copernican astronomy but multiple universes and other inhabited planets.

1632

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JOHN

MILTON

In six thou seest,? and what if sev’nth to these

130

The planet earth, so steadfast though she seem, ~Insensibly three different motions move?! Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe, Moved contrary with thwart obliquities,* Or save the sun his labor, and that swift

135

Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb? supposed, Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of day and night; which needs not thy belief, If earth industrious of herself fetch day Traveling east, and with her part averse

130

148

From the sun’s beam meet night, her other part Still luminous by his ray. What if that light Sent from her through the wide transpicuous® air, To the terrestrial moon be as a star Enlight’ning her by day, as she by night This earth? Reciprocal, if land be there, Fields and inhabitants: her spots thou seest As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce

transparent

Fruits in her softened soil, for some to eat

iso

Allotted there; and other suns perhaps With their attendant moons thou wilt descry Communicating male® and female? light, Which two great sexes animate® the world, Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live. For such vast room

original / reflected endow with life

in nature unpossessed

By living soul, desert and desolate,

iss

Only Each Down Light

to shine, yet scarce to contribute orb a glimpse of light, conveyed so far to this habitable,° which returns back to them, is obvious to dispute.°

inhabited place open to dispute

But whether thus these things, or whether not,

ic0

Whether the sun predominant in heav’n Rise on the earth, or earth rise on the sun, He from the east his flaming road begin,

Or she from west her silent course advance With inoffensive® pace that spinning sleeps 165

unobstructed, harmless

On her soft axle, while she paces ev'n,

And bears thee soft with the smooth air along, Solicit? not thy thoughts with matters hid,

disturb

Leave them to God above, him serve and fear; Of other creatures, as him pleases best,

170

Wherever placed, let him dispose: joy thou In what he gives to thee, this Paradise

And thy fair Eve; heav’n is for thee too high To know what passes there; be lowly wise: 9. Mercury, Venus,

Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and

the moon. In the Ptolemaic system, the “seventh”

is the sun; in the Copernican, earth. 1. Copernicus described the three motions as daily, annual, and “motion in declination” whereby the earth's axis swerved so as always to point in the same

direction.

2. Oblique paths that cross each other. 3. Wheel, that is, the primum

mobile, which (if

we accept the Ptolemaic system and “save the sun his labor”) revolves around the universe every twenty-four hours, carrying the planets and their spheres with it.

PARADISE

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Think only what concerns thee and thy being; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree,

Contented that thus far hath been revealed

180

190

Not of earth only but of highest Heav’n.” To whom thus Adam cleared of doubt, replied: “How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure Intelligence® of Heav'n, angel serene, And freed from intricacies, taught to live The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt the sweet of life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares, And not molest us, unless we ourselves Seek them with wand’ring thoughts, and notions vain. But apt the mind or fancy is to rove Unchecked, and of her roving is no end; Till warned, or by experience taught, she learn, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure and subtle, but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime wisdom; what is more, is fume,° Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,?

200

205

And renders us in things that most concern Unpracticed, unprepared, and still to seek.° Therefore from this high pitch let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand Useful, whence haply°® mention may arise Of something not unseasonable to ask By sufferance,° and thy wonted?® favor deigned. Thee I have heard relating what was done Ere my remembrance: now hear me relate My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard; And day is yet not spent; till then thou seest How subtly to detain thee I devise,

spirit

vapor

foolish irrelevance

always searching

perhaps permission / usual

Inviting thee to hear while | relate,

Fond,° were it not in hope of thy reply: 210

For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heav’n,

And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear Than fruits of palm tree pleasantest to thirst And hunger both, from labor, at the hour Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill,

220

Though pleasant, but thy words with grace divine Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.” To whom thus Raphael answered heav’nly meek: “Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also poured Inward and outward both, his image fair: Speaking or mute all comeliness and grace Attends thee, and each word, each motion forms.

Nor less think we in Heav’n of thee on earth Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire

foolish

1634

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JOHN

MILTON

Gladly into the ways of God with man: For God we see hath honored thee, and set

On man his equal love: say therefore on; For I that day was absent, as befell, Bound on a voyage uncouth? and obscure, Far on excursion toward the gates of Hell; Squared in full legion (such command we had)

strange

To see that none thence issued forth a spy,

Or enemy, while God was in his work, Lest he incensed at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mixed. Not that they durst without his leave attempt, But us he sends upon his high behests For state,° as sov reign King, and to inure®

ceremony / strengthen

Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong; But long ere our approaching heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song, Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. iy +

wi

Glad we returned up to the coasts of light Ere Sabbath evening: so we had in charge. But thy relation now; for I attend,

to Ni) wi)

Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine.” So spake the godlike Power, and thus our sire: “For man to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew? Desire with thee still longer to converse Induced me. As new-waked from soundest sleep Soft on the flow’ry herb I found me laid In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun Soon dried, and on the reeking® moisture fed. Straight toward heav’n my wond’ring eyes I turned, And gazed a while the ample sky, till raised

steaming

By quick instinctive motion up I sprung 260

As thitherward endeavoring, and upright Stood on my feet; about me round I saw

Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse® of murmuring streams; by these, iw)on wi

flow

Creatures that lived, and moved, and walked, or flew, Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled,

With fragrance and with joy my heart o’erflowed. Myself I then perused, and limb by limb Surveyed, and sometimes went,° and sometimes ran

With supple joints, as lively vigor led:

walked

But who I was, or where, or from what cause,

Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake, My tongue obeyed and readily could name Whate'er I saw.’ “Thou sun,’ said I, ‘fair light,

4. Compare Satan’s inability to remember his origins (5.856—63), from which he infers self-creation, whereas Adam infers a Maker (line 278).

5. Adam’s ability to name the creatures was said to signify his intuitive understanding of their natures,

PARADISE

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And thou enlightened earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?

Not of myself; by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power preeminent; 280

Tell me, how may I know him, how adore,

285

From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that | am happier than I know,’ While thus I called, and strayed I knew not whither, From where | first drew air, and first beheld This happy light, when answer none returned, On a green shady bank profuse of flow’rs Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seized My drowséd sense, untroubled, though I thought

290

I then was passing to my former state

Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve: When suddenly stood at my head a dream, Whose inward apparition gently moved My fancy to believe I yet had being, And lived: one came, methought, of shape divine, And said, “Thy mansion® wants°® thee, Adam, rise,

First man, of men innumerable ordained First father, called by thee I come thy guide To the garden of bliss, thy seat°® prepared.’ So saying, by the hand he took me raised,

habitation / lacks

residence

And over fields and waters, as in air

Smooth sliding without step, last led me up A woody mountain whose high top was plain, A circuit wide, enclosed, with goodliest trees Planted, with walks, and bowers, that what I saw

Of earth before scarce pleasant seemed. Each tree Load’n with fairest fruit, that hung to the eye Tempting, stirred in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat; whereat I waked, and found 310

Before mine eyes all real, as the dream

Had lively° shadowed: here had new begun My wand’ring, had not he who was my guide Up hither, from among the trees appeared, Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe In adoration at his feet I fell Submiss:° he reared me, and ‘Whom thou sought’st I am,’ Said mildly, ‘Author of all this thou seest

320

Above, or round about thee or beneath. This Paradise I give thee, count it thine To till and keep,° and of the fruit to eat: Of every tree that in the garden grows Eat freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth: But of the tree whose operation® brings Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith,

vividly

submissive

care for

action

1636

|

JOHN

MILTON

Amid the garden by the Tree of Life, Remember what I warn thee, shun to taste,

335

340

And shun the bitter consequence: for know, The day thou eat’st thereof, my sole command Transgressed, inevitably thou shalt die; From that day mortal, and this happy state Shalt lose, expelled from hence into a world Of woe and sorrow.” Sternly he pronounced The rigid interdiction,? which resounds Yet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choice Not to incur; but soon his clear aspéct® Returned and gracious purpose® thus renewed: ‘Not only these fair bounds, but all the earth To thee and to thy race I give; as lords

prohibition untroubled expression

speech

Possess it, and all things that therein live, Or live in sea, or air, beast, fish, and fowl.

In sign whereof each bird and beast behold After their kinds; I bring them to receive From thee their names, and pay thee fealty With low subjection; understand the same Of fish within their wat’ry residence, Not hither summoned, since they cannot change Their element to draw the thinner air.’ As thus he spake, each bird and beast behold Approaching two and two, these® cow’ring low With blandishment,’ each bird stooped on his wing. I named them, as they passed, and understood Their nature, with such knowledge God endued My sudden apprehension.’ but in these I found not what methought I wanted still; And to the heav’nly Vision thus presumed:

the beasts flattering gesture

““O by what name, for thou above all these,

Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, Surpassest far my naming,® how may I Adore thee, Author of this universe,

365

370

And all this good to man, for whose well-being So amply, and with hands so liberal Thou hast provided all things: but with me I see not who partakes. In solitude What happiness, who can enjoy alone, Or all enjoying, what contentment find?’ Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright, As with a smile more brightened, thus replied: “‘What call’st thou solitude? Is not the earth With various living creatures, and the air Replenished,° and all these at thy command

fully stocked

To come and play before thee? Know’st thou not 6. Compare God’s commands to Adam (Genesis 1.2830, 2.16—17) with Milton’s elaboration here.

7. Adam and

had already begun

features

of the earth

here he names

naming

the sun

(lines 272-74),

but

(and thereby shows he under-

stands) all living creatures. 8. Adam reasons, as the Scholastics did, from the

creatures to the fact of a Creator, but he cannot name

(and so indicates

that he cannot

stand) God, except as God reveals himself.

under-

PARADISE

375

385

390

LOST,

Their language and their ways? They also know,? And reason not contemptibly; with these Find pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large.’ So spake the Universal Lord, and seemed So ordering. I with leave of speech implored, And humble deprecation thus replied: “‘Let not my words offend thee, Heav’nly Power, My Maker, be propitious while I speak. Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, And these inferior far beneath me set? Among unequals what society Can sort,° what harmony or true delight? Which must be mutual, in proportion due Giv’n and received; but in disparity The one intense, the other still remiss Cannot well suit with either,’ but soon prove Tedious alike. Of fellowship I speak Such as I seek, fit to participate® All rational delight, wherein the brute Cannot be human consort; they rejoice

BOOK

8

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1637

have understanding

agree

partake of

Each with their kind, lion with lioness;

So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined; Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl

So well converse, nor with the ox the ape; Worse then can man with beast, and least of all.’

400

405

“Whereto th’ Almighty answered, not displeased: ‘A nice® and subtle happiness I see Thou to thyself proposest, in the choice Of thy associates, Adam, and wilt taste No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary. What think’st thou then of me, and this my state? Seem I to thee sufficiently possessed Of happiness, or not? who am alone From all eternity, for none I know Second to me or like, equal much less. How have I then with whom to hold converse

410

Save with the creatures which I made, and those To me inferior, infinite descents

415

Beneath what other creatures are to thee?’ “He ceased, I lowly answered: “To attain The height and depth of thy eternal ways All human thoughts come short, Supreme of things; Thou in thyself art perfect, and in thee

fastidious

Is no deficience found; not so is man,

But in degree, the cause of his desire By conversation with his like to help, Or solace his defects.! No need that thou

9. As with poorly matched musical instruments, Adam’s string is too taut (“intense”) and the animals’ is too slack (“remiss”) to be in harmony (“suit”).

1. God is absolutely perfect, man only relatively so (“in degree”), and thereby needs companionship with a fit mate to assuage (“solace”) the “defects” arising from solitude.

1638

420

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JOHN

MILTON

Shouldst propagate, already infinite; And through all numbers absolute, though One; But man by number is to manifest His single imperfection, and beget Like of his like, his image multiplied,

430

In unity defective,” which requires Collateral° love, and dearest amity. Thou in thy secrecy® although alone, Best with thyself accompanied, seek’st not Social communication, yet so pleased, Canst raise thy creature to what height thou wilt

mutual seclusion

Of union or communion, deified;

I by conversing cannot these erect From prone, nor in their ways complacence?® find.’ Thus I emboldened spake, and freedom used

satisfaction

Permissive,° and acceptance found, which gained

permitted

This answer from the gracious Voice Divine: “Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleased, And find thee knowing not of beasts alone, Which thou hast rightly named, but of thyself, 440

Expressing well the spirit within thee free, My image, not imparted to the brute, Whose fellowship therefore unmeet? for thee Good reason was thou freely shouldst dislike,

unsuitable

And be so minded still. I, ere thou spak’st, 445

Knew it not good for man to be alone, And no such company as then thou saw’st Intended thee, for trial only brought,

450

To see how thou couldst judge of fit and meet: What next I bring shall please thee, be assured, Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self, Thy wish, exactly to thy heart’s desire.? “He ended, or I heard no more, for now

455

465

My earthly by his heav’nly overpowered, Which it had long stood under,’ strained to the height In that celestial colloquy sublime, As with an object that excels® the sense, Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repair Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, called By nature as in aid, and closed mine eyes. Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cell Of fancy° my internal sight, by which Abstract® as in a trance methought I saw, Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Still glorious before whom awake I stood; Who stooping opened my left side, and took From thence a rib, with cordial® spirits warm, 2. God, “though

One,” (line 421), contains

all

numbers, but man has to remedy the “imperfection” of being single (line 423) by procreating and thereby multiplying his single and thereby

been exposed to exceeds

imagination withdrawn

from the heart

“defective” image (line 425).

3. Compare the account Milton’s elaboration.

in Genesis

2.18 with

PARADISE

470

LOST,

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8

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1639

And lifeblood streaming fresh; wide was the wound, But suddenly with flesh filled up and healed: The rib he formed and fashioned with his hands; Under his forming hands a creature grew, Manlike, but different sex, so lovely fair That what seemed fair in all the world seemed now Mean, or in her summed up, in her contained

480

And in her looks, which from that time infused Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her air° inspired The spirit of love and amorous delight. She disappeared, and left me dark, I waked To find her, or forever to deplore Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure: When out of hope, behold her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my dream, adorned With what all earth or heaven could bestow To make her amiable:° on she came,

490

495

Led by her heav’nly Maker, though unseen,? And guided by his voice, nor uninformed Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites: Grace was in all her steps, Heav’n in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love. I overjoyed could not forbear aloud: ““This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfilled Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign, Giver of all things fair, but fairest this Of all thy gifts, nor enviest.° I now see Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, my self Before me; woman is her name, of man Extracted; for this cause he shall forgo Father and mother, and to his wife adhere;

mien, look

lovely

given reluctantly

And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.” 500

“She heard me thus, and though divinely brought, Yet innocence and virgin modesty, Her virtue and the conscience® of her worth That would be wooed, and not unsought be won, Not obvious,° not obtrusive,° but retired, The more desirable; or to say all,

consciousness

bold /forward

Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, Wrought in her so that, seeing me, she turned; I followed her, she what was honor knew, 510

And with obsequious® majesty approved My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bow’r I led her blushing like the morn: all heav’n, And happy constellations on that hour

compliant

Shed their selectest influence; the earth

Gave sign of gratulation,° and each hill; 4. Compare Eve's version of these events (4.440—91). 5. Compare the account in Genesis 2.23—24.

rejoicing, congratulation

1640

wn wa

525

530

535

|

JOHN

MILTON

Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs® Whispered it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odors from the spicy shrub, Disporting,° till the amorous bird of night® Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star® On his hill top, to light the bridal lamp. Thus I have told thee all my state, and brought My story to the sum of earthly bliss Which I enjoy, and must confess to find In all things else delight indeed, but such As used or not, works in the mind no change, Nor vehement desire, these delicacies I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flow’rs, Walks, and the melody of birds; but here Far otherwise, transported? I behold,

Transported touch; here passion first I felt, Commotion’ strange, in all enjoyments else Superior and unmoved, here only weak Against the charm of beauty’s powerful glance. Or° nature failed in me, and left some part Not proof enough such object to sustain,° Or from my side subducting,° took perhaps More than enough; at least on her bestowed

frolicking / nightingale Venus

enraptured

mental agitation

either withstand

subtracting

Too much of ornament, in outward show Elaborate, of inward less exact. 540

For well I understand in the prime end Of nature her th’ inferior, in the mind And inward faculties, which most excel, In outward also her resembling less

545

His image who made both, and less expressing The character of that dominion giv’n O’er other creatures; yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute® she seems

perfect, independent

And in herself complete, so well to know 550

Her own, that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best;

All higher knowledge in her presence falls Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her Loses discount’nanced,° and like folly shows; Authority and reason on her wait, As one intended first, not after made Occasionally;° and to consimmate all,

Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat

disconcerted, abashed

incidentally

Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 560

About her, as a guard angelic placed.” To whom the angel with contracted brow: “Accuse not nature, she hath done her part; Do thou but thine, and be not diffident® Of wisdom, she deserts thee not, if thou 6. Both breezes and melodies. “Gales”: winds.

mistrustful

PARADISE

LOST}

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1641

Dismiss not her, when most thou need’st her nigh, By attributing overmuch to things Less excellent, as thou thyself perceiv’st.

For what admir’st thou, what transports thee so, An outside? Fair no doubt, and worthy well Thy cherishing, thy honoring, and thy love, Not thy subjection: weigh with her thyself; Then value: ofttimes nothing profits more Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right Well managed; of that skill the more thou know’st, The more she will acknowledge thee her head,’ And to realities yield all her shows: Made so adorn for thy delight the more, So awful,° that with honor thou may’st love

580

Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise. But if the sense of touch whereby mankind Is propagated seem such dear delight Beyond all other, think the same vouchsafed

awe-inspiring

To cattle and each beast; which would not be

585

To them made common and divulged,° if aught Therein enjoyed were worthy to subdue The soul of man, or passion in him move. What higher in her society thou find’st

imparted generally

Attractive, human, rational, love still; In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true love consists not; love refines 590

595

600

The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat In reason, and is judicious, is the scale® By which to heavnly love thou may’st ascend, Not sunk in carnal pleasure, for which cause Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.” To whom thus half abashed Adam replied. “Neither her outside formed so fair, nor aught In procreation common to all kinds (Though higher of the genial? bed by far, And with mysterious reverence I deem) So much delights me, as those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies® that daily flow

fitting acts

From all her words and actions, mixed with love

And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned Union of mind, or in us both one soul; 605

Harmony to behold in wedded pair More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Yet these subject not; I to thee disclose What inward thence I feel, not therefore foiled,° 7. See 1 Corinthians 11.3: “the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God.” 8. The ladder of love, a Neoplatonic concept for the movement from sensual love to higher forms, and ultimately to love of God.

overcome

9. Both “nuptial” and “generative.” Adam takes respectful issue with the apparent denigration of human sex in Raphael’s account of the Neoplatonic ladder, which prompts his question about angelic sex (lines 615-17).

1642

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JOHN

MILTON

Who meet with various objects, from the sense Variously representing;' yet still free Approve the best, and follow what I approve. To love thou blam’st me not, for love thou say’st Leads up to Heav’n, is both the way and guide; Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask; 615

Love not the heav’nly Spirits, and how their love Express they, by looks only, or do they mix Irradiance, virtual or immediate® touch?”

620

To whom the angel with a smile that glowed Celestial rosy red, love’s proper hue,* Answered. “Let it suffice thee that thou know’st Us happy, and without love no happiness. Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy’st (And pure thou wert created) we enjoy In eminence,’ and obstacle find none

actual

higher degree

Of membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars: Easier than air with air, if Spirits embrace,

Total they mix, union of pure with pure

630

Desiring; nor restrained conveyance need As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul. But I can now no more; the parting sun Beyond the earth’s green cape and verdant isles Hesperian sets,’ my signal to depart.

Be strong, live happy, and love, but first of all Him whom to love is to obey, and keep His great command; take heed lest passion sway Thy judgment to do aught, which else free will Would not admit;° thine and of all thy sons

640

645

The weal or woe in thee is placed; beware. I in thy persevering shall rejoice, And all the blest: stand fast; to stand or fall Free in thine own arbitrament? it lies. Perfect within, no outward aid require;° And all temptation to transgress repel.” So saying, he arose; whom Adam thus

permit

determination depend on

Followed with benediction. “Since to part,

Go heavenly guest, ethereal messenger, Sent from whose sov’reign goodness I adore. Gentle to me and affable hath been Thy condescension, and shall be honored ever With grateful memory: thou to mankind Be good and friendly still,° and oft return.” So parted they, the angel up to Heav’n From the thick shade, and Adam to his bow’.

1. L.e., various objects, variously represented to me by my senses. 2. This is not likely to be an embarrassed blush: red is the color traditionally associated with Seraphim, who burn with ardor. Raphael’s smile also glows with friendship for Adam and appre-

always

ciation of his perceptive inference about angelic love. 3. Cape Verde, near Dakar, and the islands off that coast are the westernmost (“Hesperian”) points of Africa.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

9

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1643

Book 9 The Argument Satan having compassed the earth, with meditated guile returns as a mist by night into Paradise, enters into the serpent sleeping. Adam and Eve in the morning go forth to their labors, which Eve proposes to divide in several places, each laboring apart: Adam consents not, alleging the danger, lest that enemy, of whom they were forewarned, should attempt her found alone: Eve loath to be thought not circumspect or firm enough, urges her going apart, the rather desirous to make trial of her strength; Adam at last yields: the Serpent finds her alone; his subtle approach, first gazing, then speaking, with much flattery extolling Eve above all other creatures. Eve wondering to hear the Serpent speak, asks how he attained to human speech and such understanding not till now; the Serpent answers, that by tasting of a certain tree in the garden he attained both to speech and reason, till then void of both: Eve requires him to bring her to that tree, and finds it to be the Tree of Knowledge forbidden: the Serpent now grown bolder, with many wiles and arguments induces her at length to eat; she pleased with the taste deliberates a while whether to impart thereof to Adam or not, at last brings him of the fruit, relates what persuaded her to eat thereof: Adam at first amazed, but

perceiving her lost, resolves through vehemence of love to perish with her; and extenuating the trepass, eats also of the fruit: the effects thereof in them both; they seek to cover their nakedness; then fall to variance and accusation

of one another. No more of talk where God or angel guest With man, as with his friend, familiar used

To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast, permitting him the while Venial° discourse unblamed: I now must change

permissible

Those notes to tragic; foul distrust, and breach Disloyal on the part of man, revolt,

And disobedience: on the part of Heav’n Now alienated, distance and distaste,°

aversion

Anger and just rebuke, and judgment giv’n, That brought into this world a world of woe,

Sin and her shadow Death, and misery Death’s harbinger:° sad task, yet argument®

forerunner / subject

Not less but more heroic than the wrath Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage Of Turnus for Lavinia disespoused, Or Neptune’s ire or Juno’s, that so long Perplexed the Greek and Cytherea’s son;! 1. In this fourth proem

(lines 1—47), after sig-

over the loss of his betrothed Lavinia, and then

naling his change from pastoral to tragic mode

killed by Aeneas; Odysseus (“the Greek ) and

(lines 1-6), Milton emphasizes tragic elements

Aeneas

in several classical epics: Achilles pursuing Hec-

mented

tor three times around the wall of Troy before

and Juno, respectively.

killing him

(Iliad 22); Turnus

fighting Aeneas

(“Cytherea’s son,”

(“perplexed”)

i.e., Venus’s son) tor-

by Neptune

(Poseidon)

1644

30

40

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JOHN

MILTON

If answerable® style I can obtain Of my celestial patroness, who deigns Her nightly visitation unimplored,* And dictates to me slumb’ring, or inspires Easy my unpremeditated verse: Since first this subject for heroic song Pleased me long choosing, and beginning late; Not sedulous® by nature to indite Wars, hitherto the only argument°® Heroic deemed, chief mastery to dissect With long and tedious havoc fabled knights In battles feigned; the better fortitude Of patience and heroic martyrdom Unsung; or to describe races and games, Or tilting furniture, emblazoned shields, Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds; Bases? and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights At joust and tournament; then marshaled feast Served up in hall with sewers,° and seneschals;° The skill of artifice® or office mean, Not that which justly gives heroic name

fitting

eager subject

waiters / stewards mechanic art

To person or to poem. Me of these Nor skilled nor studious, higher argument Remains,’ sufficient of itself to raise That name, unless an age too late, or cold

Climate, or years damp my intended wing Depressed, and much they may, if all be mine, Not hers who brings it nightly to my ear. The sun was sunk, and after him the star 50

Of Hesperus,’ whose office is to bring Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter "Twixt day and night, and now from end to end Night’s hemisphere had veiled the horizon round: When Satan who late® fled® before the threats

Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improved? vi wn

recently increased

In meditated fraud and malice, bent

On man’s destruction, maugre what might hap Of heavier on himself,’ fearless returned.

60

By night he fled, and at midnight returned From compassing the earth, cautious of day, Since Uriel regent of the sun descried His entrance, and forewarned the Cherubim That kept their watch; thence full of anguish driv’n, 2. Milton does not here invoke the Muse but testifies to her customary nightly visits. Milton’s nephew reports that he often awoke in the morning with lines of poetry fully formed in his head, ready to dictate them to a scribe.

3. Cloth coverings for horses; “tilting furniture’: equipment for jousting; “impresses quaint”: cunningly designed heraldic devices on shields; “caparisons”:; ornamental trappings or armor for horses. After rejecting the classical epic subjects, Milton here rejects the familiar topics of romance.

4. For a heroic poem. He proceeds to recap worries he has voiced before: that the times might not be receptive to such poems (“age too late”),

that the “cold Climate” of England or his own advanced age might “damp” (benumb, dampen) his “intended wing /Depressed” (poetic flights held down, kept from soaring). 5. Venus, the evening star. 6. At the end of Book 4. 7. L.e., despite (“maugre”) what might result in heavier punishments for himself.

PARADISE

65

LOST,

BOOK

The space of seven continued nights he rode With darkness, thrice the equinoctial line® He circled, four times crossed the car of Night From pole to pole, traversing each colure;$ On the eighth returned, and on the coast averse®

9

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1645

equator

turned away

From entrance on Cherubic watch, by stealth

Found unsuspected way. There was a place, Now not, though sin, not time, first wrought the change Where Tigris at the foot of Paradise Into a gulf shot underground, till part Rose up a fountain by the Tree of Life;

?

In with the river sunk, and with it rose 75

Satan involved? in rising mist, then sought

enveloped

Where to lie hid. Sea he had searched and land

From Eden over Pontus,’ and the pool Maeotis, up beyond the river Ob; Downward as far Antarctic; and in length 80

85

West from Orontes to the ocean barred At Darien, thence to the land where flows

Ganges and Indus: thus the orb he roamed With narrow’® search; and with inspection deep Considered every creature, which of all Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found The serpent subtlest beast of all the field.! Him after long debate, irresolute® Of? thoughts revolved, his final sentence® chose Fit vessel, fittest imp® of fraud, in whom

90

95

100

105

To enter, and his dark suggestions hide From sharpest sight: for in the wily snake, Whatever sleights° none would suspicious mark, As from his wit and native subtlety Proceeding, which in other beasts observed Doubt° might beget of diabolic pow’r Active within beyond the sense of brute. Thus he resolved, but first from inward grief His bursting passion into plaints thus poured: “O earth, how like to Heav’n, if not preferred More justly, seat worthier of gods, as built With second thoughts, reforming what was old! For what God after better worse would build? Terrestrial heav’n, danced round by other heav’ns That shine, yet bear their bright officious° lamps, Light above light, for thee alone, as seems,” In thee concent’ring all their precious beams 8. The colures are two great circles that intersect at right angles at the poles. By circling the globe

from east to west at the equator and then over the north and south poles, Satan can remain in darkness, keeping the earth between himself and the

strict

undecided among /decision offshoot

artifices

suspicion

dutiful

which flows into the Arctic Ocean, then south to Antarctica; thence west from “Orontes” (a river in Syria) across the Atlantic to “Darien” (the Isthmus of Panama), then across the Pacific and

sun. “Car of Night” (line 65): the earth’s shadow,

Asia to India where the “Ganges” and “Indus” rivers flow.

imagined as the chariot of the goddess Night. 9. The Black Sea. Satan's journey (lines 77—82) takes him from there to the Sea of Azov in Russia (“Maeotis”), beyond the river “Ob” in Siberia,

2. Like Adam (8.15ff.) and Eve (4.657—58) but not Raphael (8.114—78), Satan assumes a Ptolemaic universe centered on the earth and humankind.

1. The serpent is so described in Genesis 3.1.

1646

110

JOHN

MILTON

Of sacred influence: as God in Heav’n Is center, yet extends to all, so thou Centring receiv’st from all those orbs; in thee, Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth

Of creatures animate with gradual life Of growth, sense, reason,? all summed up in man.

With what delight could I have walked thee round, If Icould joy in aught, sweet interchange Of hill and valley, rivers, woods and plains, Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crowned, Rocks, dens, and caves; but I in none of these

Find place or refuge; and the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel

Torment within me, as from the hateful siege® Of contraries; all good to me becomes Bane,° and in Heav’n much worse would be my state.

conflict poison

But neither here seek I, no nor in Heav’n To dwell, unless by mastering Heav’n’s Supreme;

130

Nor hope to be myself less miserable By what I seek, but others to make such As I, though thereby worse to me redound: For only in destroying I find ease To my relentless thoughts; and him‘ destroyed, Or won to what may work his utter loss, For whom all this was made, all this will soon Follow, as to him linked in weal or woe:

135

140

145

In woe then; that destruction wide may range: To me shall be the glory sole among The infernal Powers, in one day to have marred What he Almighty styled,° six nights and days Continued making, and who knows how long Before had been contriving, though perhaps Not longer than since I in one night freed From servitude inglorious well-nigh half Th’ angelic name, and thinner left the throng Of his adorers. He to be avenged, And to repair his numbers thus impaired, Whether such virtue® spent of old now failed More angels to create, if they at least

called

power

Are his created, or to spite us more,

Determined to advance into our room A creature formed of earth, and him endow,

Exalted from so base original,° With Heav’nly spoils, our spoils: what he decreed

origin

He effected; man he made, and for him built

155

Magnificent this world, and earth his seat, Him lord pronounced, and, O indignity! Subjected to his service angel wings, 3. Graduated in steps (“gradual,” 112) from vegetable to animal to rational forms (souls); cf. 5.469—90, 4. Adam. “This” (line 132): the universe.

RARA

160

DESI

SEO Sth,

And flaming ministers to watch and tend Their earthy charge: of these the vigilance I dread, and to elude, thus wrapped in mist Of midnight vapor glide obscure, and pry In every bush and brake, where hap® may find The serpent sleeping, in whose mazy folds To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent! that I who erst contended With gods to sit the highest, am now constrained

BOOK

9

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1647

luck

Into a beast, and mixed with bestial slime, This essence to incarnate and imbrute,>

170

That to the height of deity aspired; But what will not ambition and revenge Descend to? Who aspires must down as low As high he soared, obnoxious? first or last To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet,

exposed

Bitter ere long back on itself recoils;

Let it; I reck° not, so it light well aimed, Since higher I fall short, on him who next Provokes my envy, this new favorite

care

Of Heav’n, this man of clay, son of despite,

180

Whom us the more to spite his Maker raised From dust: spite then with spite is best repaid.” So saying, through each thicket dank or dry, Like a black mist low creeping, he held on His midnight search, where soonest he might find The serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found In labyrinth of many a round self-rolled, His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles: Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den, Nor nocent?® yet, but on the grassy herb Fearless unfeared he slept: in at his mouth The Devil entered, and his brutal®° sense,

190

In heart or head, possessing soon inspired With act intelligential: but his sleep Disturbed not, waiting close® th’ approach of morn. Now whenas sacred light began to dawn

harmful, guilty animal

hidden

In Eden on the humid flow’rs, that breathed 195

Their morning incense, when all things that breathe, From th’ earth’s great altar send up silent praise To the Creator, and his nostrils fill

With grateful° smell, forth came the human pair And joined their vocal worship to the choir Of creatures wanting® voice; that done, partake 200

The season, prime® for sweetest scents and airs:

pleasing lacking best

Then cémmune how that day they best may ply Their growing work; for much their work outgrew The hands’ dispatch of two gard’ning so wide. And Eve first to her husband thus began: 5. Satan “imbruting” himselfin a snake parodies, grotesquely, the Son’s incarnation in human form, as Christ.

1648

205

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JOHN

MILTON

“Adam, well may we labor still° to dress

continually

This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flow’,

210

215

Our pleasant task enjoined, but till more hands Aid us, the work under our labor grows, Luxurious® by restraint; what we by day Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, One night or two with wanton® growth derides, Tending to wild. Thou therefore now advise Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present,

luxuriant unrestrained

Let us divide our labors, thou where choice Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind The woodbine round this arbor, or direct

The clasping ivy where to climb, while I In yonder spring® of roses intermixed With myrtle, find what to redress° till noon: For while so near each other thus all day

growth set upright

Our task we choose, what wonder if so near

225

235

Looks intervene and smiles, or object new Casual discourse draw on, which intermits°® Our day’s work brought to little, though begun Early, and th’ hour of supper comes unearned.” To whom mild answer Adam thus returned: “Sole Eve, associate sole,° to me beyond Compare above all living creatures dear, Well hast thou motioned,’ well thy thoughts employed

How we might best fulfill the work which here God hath assigned us, nor of me shalt pass Unpraised: for nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.’ Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed Labor, as to debar us when we need Refreshment, whether food, or talk between, Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse Of looks and smiles, for smiles from reason flow, To brute denied, and are of love the food,

250

Love not the lowest end of human life. For not to irksome toil, but to delight He made us, and delight to reason joined. These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide As we need walk, till younger hands ere long Assist us: but if much convérse perhaps Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield. For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return. But other doubt possesses me, lest harm Befall thee severed from me; for thou know’st What hath been warned us, what malicious foe 6. Adam puns on “sole” as “unrivaled” and “only” (cf. 4.411). 7. Adam’s compliments resemble the praises of a good wife in Proverbs 31.

interrupts

proposed

PARADISE

255

LOST,

BOOK

9

|

1649

Envying our happiness, and of his own Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame By sly assault; and somewhere nigh at hand Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find His wish and best advantage, us asunder,

260

265

Hopeless to circumvent us joined, where each To other speedy aid might lend at need; Whether his first design be to withdraw Our fealty°® from God, or to disturb Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss Enjoyed by us excites his envy more; Or? this, or worse, leave not the faithful side

allegiance whether

That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. The wife, where danger or dishonor lurks,

Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.” To whom the virgin® majesty of Eve, As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,

With sweet austere composure thus replied. “Offspring of Heav’n and earth, and all earth’s lord, That such an enemy we have, who seeks Our ruin, both by thee informed I learn, And from the parting angel overheard As in a shady nook I stood behind, Just then returned at shut of evening flow’rs. 9 But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt 280

To God or thee, because we have a foe

May tempt it, I expected not to hear. His violence thou fear’st not, being such,

As we, not capable of death or pain, Can either not receive, or can repel.

290

His fraud is then thy fear, which plain infers Thy equal fear that my firm faith and love Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced; Thoughts, which how found they harbor in thy breast, Adam, misthought of® her to thee so dear?” To whom with healing words Adam replied. “Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve, For such thou art, from sin and blame entire:° Not diffident® of thee do I dissuade

Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid Th’ attempt itself, intended by our foe. For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses°® The tempted with dishonor foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation: thou thyself with scorn 300

misapplied to

untouched distrustful

bespatters

And anger wouldst resent the offered wrong, 8. The term here means unspotted or peerless; Milton has insisted at the end of Books 4 and 8 that Adam and Eve have sex.

warnings; Raphael’s parting words (8.630—43) overheard by Eve do not specifically mention Satan but warn Adam to resist his passion for

9, Somewhat confusing, since Eve heard the full

Eve. He does, however,

story of the war in Heaven and Raphael’s earlier

obey the “great command” and repel temptation.

reiterate the charge to

1650

|

JOHN

MILTON

Though ineffectual found; misdeem not then, If such affront I labor to avert From thee alone, which on us both at once

The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare, 305

Or daring, first on me th’ assault shall light.

Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn;°

despise

Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce

310

Angels, nor think superfluous others’ aid. I from the influence of thy looks receive Access? in every virtue, in thy sight

increase

More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on,

Shame to be overcome or overreached® Would utmost vigor raise, and raised unite. Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel When I am present, and thy trial choose

outwitted

With me, best witness of thy virtue tried.”

So spake domestic Adam in his care And matrimonial love; but Eve, who thought 320

Less° attributed to her faith sincere,

too little

Thus her reply with accent sweet renewed. “If this be our condition, thus to dwell In narrow circuit straitened® by a foe,

confined

Subtle or violent, we not endued Single with like defense, wherever met,

How are we happy, still° in fear of harm? But harm precedes not sin: only our foe Tempting affronts us with his foul esteem Of our integrity: his foul esteem 330

Sticks no dishonor on our front,° but turns

always

forehead

Foul on himself; then wherefore shunned or feared

By us? who rather double honor gain From his surmise proved false, find peace within, 335

Favor from Heav’n, our witness from th’ event.° And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed

Alone, without exterior help sustained?! Let us not then suspect our happy state Left so imperfect by the Maker wise, As not secure to single° or combined. 340

Frail is our happiness, if this be so,

345

And Eden were no Eden thus exposed.” To whom thus Adam fervently replied. “O woman, best are all things as the will Of God ordained them, his creating hand Nothing imperfect or deficient left Of all that he created, much less man,

Or aught that might his happy state secure, Secure from outward force; within himself The danger lies, yet lies within his power: 1. Compare and contrast Areopagitica, pp. 1479-89.

outcome

one alone

PARADISE

350

LOST,

Lest by some fair appearing good surprised She dictate false, and misinform the will To do what God expressly hath forbid. Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoins, That I should mind® thee oft, and mind thou me.

360

365

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1651

Against his will he can receive no harm. But God left free the will, for what obeys Reason, is free, and reason he made right,” But bid her well beware, and still erect,°

355

BOOK

Firm we subsist,° yet possible to swerve, |Since reason not impossibly may meet

ever-alert

remind, pay heed to stand, exist

Some specious? object by the foe suborned, And fall into deception unaware, Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warned. Seek not temptation then, which to avoid Were better, and most likely if from me Thou sever not: trial will come unsought. Wouldst thou approve® thy constancy, approve

deceptively attractive

prove

First thy obedience; th’ other who can know,

370

Not seeing thee attempted, who attest? But if thou think, trial unsought may find Us both securer® than thus warned thou seem’st, Go; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more; Go in thy native innocence, rely

overconfident

On what thou hast of virtue, summon all,

375

For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine.” So spake the patriarch of mankind, but Eve Persisted, yet submiss, though last, replied:

“With thy permission then, and thus forewarned Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words 380

‘Touched only, that our trial, when least sought,

May find us both perhaps far less prepared, The willinger I go, nor much expect A foe so proud will first the weaker seek; 385

So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse.” Thus saying, from her husband’s hand her hand

Soft she withdrew, and like a wood nymph light? Oread or Dryad, or of Delia’s train,

300

Betook her to the groves, but Delia’s self In gait surpassed and goddess-like deport,° Though not as she with bow and quiver armed, But with such gardening tools as art yet rude, Guiltless of fire* had formed, or angels brought.

bearing

To Pales, or Pomona, thus adorned,

Likest she seemed Pomona when she fled 2. Right reason, a classical concept accommodated to Christian thought, is the God-given power to apprehend truth and moral law.

3. Light-footed, with overtones of“fickle” or “frivolous.” “Oread” (next line): a mountain nymph. “Dryad”: a wood nymph. “Delia”: Diana, born on

the isle of Delos, hunted with a “train” of nymphs. én 4. Having no experience of fire, not needed in Paradise. Milton may be alluding to the guilt of Prometheus, who stole fire from heaven.

1652

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JOHN

MILTON

Vertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime,

400,

405

410

Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove.’ Her long with ardent look his eye pursued Delighted, but desiring more her stay. Oft he to her his charge of quick return Repeated, she to him as oft engaged To be returned by noon amid the bow’, And all things in best order to invite Noontide repast, or afternoon’s repose. O much deceived, much failing,°? hapless° Eve, Of thy presumed return! event® perverse! Thou never from that hour in Paradise Found’st either sweet repast, or sound repose; Such ambush hid among sweet flow’rs and shades Waited with hellish rancor imminent To intercept thy way, or send thee back

erring / unlucky outcome

Despoiled of innocence, of faith, of bliss.

415

420

For now, and since first break of dawn the Fiend, Mere serpent in appearance, forth was come, And on his quest, where likeliest he might find The only two of mankind, but in them The whole included race, his purposed prey. In bow’r and field he sought, where any tuft Of grove or garden plot more pleasant lay, Their tendance or plantation for delight,° By fountain or by shady rivulet He sought them both, but wished his hap°® might find Eve separate; he wished, but not with hope

luck

Of what so seldom chanced, when to his wish,

430

Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies, Veiled in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood, Half spied, so thick the roses bushing round About her glowed, oft stooping to support Each flow’r of slender stalk, whose head though gay Carnation, purple, azure, or specked with gold, Hung drooping unsustained, them she upstays Gently with myrtle band, mindless° the while,

heedless

Herself, though fairest unsupported flow’r

From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh.” 435

Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm, Then voluble® and bold, now hid, now seen

Among thick-woven arborets® and flow’rs

undulating small trees

Embordered on each bank, the hand? of Eve:

handiwork

Spot more delicious than those gardens feigned 440

Or° of revived Adonis, or renowned 5. These goddesses, like Eve, are associated with agriculture (lines 393—96)—Pales, with flocks

and

pastures;

Pomona,

with

fruit trees:

Ceres, with harvests—and the latter two foreshadow Eve's situation. Pomona was chased by

the wood god “Vertumnus” in many guises before surrendering to him; Ceres was impreg-

either

nated by Jove with Proserpina—later carried off to Hades by Pluto. 6. Le., which they had cultivated or planted for their pleasure. 7. The conceit of the flower-gatherer who is her-

self gathered evokes the story of Proserpina, to whom

it was applied in 4.269—71,

PARADISE

445

LOST

460

9

|

1653

Alcinous, host of old Laertes’ son, Or that, not mystic, where the sapient king Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse.*® Much he the place admired, the person more. As one who long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy® the air,

455

BOOK

Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight; The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,’ Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound; If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass, What pleasing seemed, for® her now pleases more, She most, and in her look sums all delight. Such pleasure took the Serpent to behold This flow’ry plat,° the sweet recess° of Eve Thus early, thus alone; her heav’nly form Angelic, but more soft, and feminine, Her graceful innocence, her every air® Of gesture or least action overawed His malice, and with rapine sweet! bereaved His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought: That space the Evil One abstracted® stood

make noisome, befoul

because of

plot / retreat

manner

withdrawn

From his own evil, and for the time remained 465

Stupidly good,° of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge; But the hot hell that always in him burns, Though in mid-Heav’n, soon ended his delight,

good because stupefied

And tortures him now more, the more he sees

Of pleasure not for him ordained: then soon Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts Of mischief gratulating,° thus excites: “Thoughts, whither have ye led me, with what sweet Compulsion thus transported to forget

greeting

What hither brought us, hate, not love, nor hope

Of Paradise for Hell, hope here to taste Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy, Save what is in destroying, other joy To me is lost. Then let me not let pass 480

Occasion which now smiles, behold alone

The woman, opportune’ to all attempts,

open

Her husband, for I view far round, not nigh,

485

Whose higher intellectual more I shun, And strength, of courage haughty,° and of limb Heroic built, though of terrestrial° mold,

exalted

earthly

Foe not informidable, exempt from wound,

8. The gardens of Adonis were beauty spots named for the lovely youth loved by Venus, killed by a boar, and subsequently revived; Odysseus (“Laertes’ son”) was entertained by Alcinous in his beautiful gardens; Solomon (“the sapient king”) entertained his “fair Egyptian spouse,”

the Queen of Sheba, in a real garden (not “mystic,” or “feigned,” as the others were). 9. Cattle. “Tedded”: spread out to dry, like hay.

1. From Latin rapere, to seize, the root of both “rape” and “rapture,” underscoring the paradox of the ravisher (temporarily) ravished.

1654

|

JOHN

MILTON

I not; so much hath Hell debased, and pain Enfeebled me, to what I was in Heav’n. She fair, divinely fair, fit love for gods, 490

495

500

Not terrible,° though terror be in love And beauty, not°® approached by stronger hate, Hate stronger, under show of love well feigned, The way which to her ruin now I tend.” So spake the Enemy of mankind, enclosed In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve Addressed his way, not with indented? wave, Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear,

Circular base of rising folds, that tow’red Fold above fold a surging maze, his head Crested aloft, and carbuncle® his eyes; With burnished neck of verdant?® gold, erect Amidst his circling spires,° that on the grass Floated redundant:° pleasing was his shape, And lovely, never since of serpent kind Lovelier, not those that in Illyria changed Hermione and Cadmus, or the god In Epidaurus;’ nor to which transformed

terrifying unless

zigzag

deep red green coils in swelling waves

Ammonian Jove, or Capitoline was seen, 510

He with Olympias, this with her who bore Scipio, the height of Rome.* With tract° oblique

course

At first, as one who sought accéss, but feared

To interrupt, sidelong he works his way. As when a ship by skillful steersman wrought Nigh river’s mouth or foreland, where the wind vi wn

Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail; So varied he, and of his tortuous train®

Curled many a wanton? wreath in sight of Eve,

twisting length luxuriant, sportive

To lure her eye; she busied heard the sound 520

Of rustling leaves, but minded not, as used To such disport before her through the field, From every beast, more duteous at her call,

Than at Circean call the herd disguised.4 He bolder now, uncalled before her stood;

But as in gaze admiring: oft he bowed His turret crest, and sleek enameled® neck,

530

multicolored

Fawning, and licked the ground whereon she trod. His gentle dumb expression turned at length The eye of Eve to mark his play; he glad Of her attention gained, with serpent tongue Organic, or impulse of vocal air,” His fraudulent temptation thus began. 2. The legendary founder of Thebes, Cadmus, and his wife Harmonia (Milton's “Hermione”) were

changed

to serpents

when

they went

to

Illyria in old age; Aesculapius, god of healing, sometimes came forth as a serpent from his temple in Epidaurus. 3. Jupiter Ammon (“Ammonian Jove”) made love to Olympias in the form of a snake and sired

Alexander the Great; the Jupiter worshipped in Rome (“Capitoline”), also in serpent form, sired Scipio Africanus, the savior and great leader (“height”) of Rome.

4. Circe, in the Odyssey, transformed men to beasts and was attended by an obedient herd. 5. Satan either used the actual tongue of the serpent or impressed the air with his own voice.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

9

|

1655

“Wonder not, sovereign mistress, if perhaps Thou canst, who art sole wonder, much less arm

540

Thy looks, the heav’n of mildness, with disdain, Displeased that I approach thee thus, and gaze Insatiate, I thus single, nor have feared Thy awful? brow, more awful thus retired. Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair, Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine By gift, and thy celestial beauty adore With ravishment beheld, there best beheld

awe-inspiring

Where universally admired; but here In this enclosure wild, these beasts among, 545

Beholders rude, and shallow to discern Half what in thee is fair, one man except, Who sees thee? (and what is one?) who shouldst be seen

A goddess among gods, adored and served By angels numberless, thy daily train.”° So glozed® the Tempter, and his proem® tuned; vw vwoO

flattered / prelude

Into the heart of Eve his words made way,

Though at the voice much marveling; at length Not unamazed she thus in answer spake. “What may this mean? Language of man pronounced By tongue of brute, and human sense expressed? The first at least of these I thought denied To beasts, whom God on their creation day Created mute to all articulate sound;

The latter | demur,? for in their looks Much reason, and in their actions oft appears. 560

565

Thee, Serpent, subtlest beast of all the field I knew, but not with human voice endued;°

Redouble then this miracle, and say, How cam’st thou speakable® of mute, and how To me so friendly grown above the rest Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight? Say, for such wonder claims attention due.” To whom the guileful Tempter thus replied: “Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve, Easy to me it is to-tell thee all

hesitate about

endowed

able to speak

What thou command’st, and right thou shouldst be obeyed:

I was at first as other beasts that graze The trodden herb, of abject thoughts and low,

580

As was my food, nor aught but food discerned Or sex, and apprehended nothing high: Till on a day roving the field, | chanced A goodly tree far distant to behold Loaden with fruit of fairest colors mixed, Ruddy and gold: I nearer drew to gaze; When from the boughs a savory odor blown, Grateful to appetite, more pleased my sense Than smell of sweetest fennel, or the teats 6. Satan’s entire speech is couched in the extravagant praises of the Petrarchan love convention.

1656

590

595

600

605

|

JOHN

MILTON

Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at ev’n,’ Unsucked of lamb or kid, that tend their play. To satisfy the sharp desire I had Of tasting those fair apples, | resolved Not to defer;? hunger and thirst at once, Powerful persuaders, quickened at the scent Of that alluring fruit, urged me so keen. About the mossy trunk I wound me soon, For high from ground the branches would require Thy utmost reach or Adam’s: round the tree All other beasts that saw, with like desire Longing and envying stood, but could not reach. Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill I spared? not, for such pleasure till that hour At feed or fountain never had I found. Sated at length, ere long I might perceive

delay

refrained

Strange alteration in me, to degree Of reason in my inward powers, and speech Wanted? not long, though to this shape retained.* Thenceforth to speculations high or deep I turned my thoughts, and with capacious mind Considered all things visible in Heav’n, Or earth, or middle,° all things fair and good;

lacked

regions between

But all that fair and good in thy divine Semblance, and in thy beauty’s heav’nly ray United I beheld; no fair® to thine 610

615

beauty

Equivalent or second, which compelled Me thus, though importune® perhaps, to come And gaze, and worship thee of right declared Sov reign of creatures, universal dame.”? So talked the spirited! sly snake; and Eve Yet more amazed unwary thus replied: “Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt The virtue? of that fruit, in thee first proved: But say, where grows the tree, from hence how far? For many are the trees of God that grow In Paradise, and various, yet unknown

inopportunely

power

To us, in such abundance lies our choice,

As leaves a greater store of fruit untouched, Still hanging incorruptible, till men Grow up to their provision,” and more hands

Help to disburden nature of her birth.” To whom the wily adder, blithe and glad: 7. According to Pliny, serpents ate fennel to aid in shedding their skins and to sharpen their eyesight; folklore had it that they drank the milk of sheep and goats.

8. There is no precedent in Genesis or the interpretative tradition for Satan’s powerfully persua-

sive argument by analogy based on the snake’s supposed experience of attaining to reason and

speech by eating the forbidden fruit. 9. Satan continues his Petrarchan language of courtship.

1. Both

inspired by and possessed

by an evil

spirit, Satan.

2. Le., until the numbers of the human race are such as to consume the food God has provided.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

9

|

+1657

“Empress, the way is ready, and not long, Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat,

630

635

640

645

650

Fast by® a fountain, one small thicket past Of blowing myrrh and balm;? if thou accept My conduct,’ I can bring thee thither soon.” “Lead then,” said Eve. He leading swiftly rolled In tangles, and made intricate seem straight, To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy Brightens his crest, as when a wand’ring fire, Compact® of unctuous® vapor, which the night Condenses, and the cold environs round, Kindled through agitation to a flame, Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends, Hovering and blazing with delusive light, Misleads th’ amazed° night-wanderer from his way To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool, There swallowed up and lost, from succor far. So glistered the dire snake, and into fraud Led Eve our credulous mother, to the tree Of prohibition, root of all our woe; Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake: “Serpent, we might have spared our coming hither, Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess,

close by

guidance

will-o’-the-wisp

composed / oily

bewildered

The credit of whose virtue® rest with thee, Wondrous indeed, if cause of such effects.

power

But of this tree we may not taste nor touch;

God so commanded, and left that command Sole daughter of his voice;* the rest, we live Law to ourselves, our reason is our law.”

655

660

To whom the Tempter guilefully replied: “Indeed? hath God then said that of the fruit Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat, Yet lords declared of all in earth or air?” To whom thus Eve yet sinless: “Of the fruit Of each tree in the garden we may eat, But of the fruit of this fair tree amidst The garden, God hath said, ‘Ye shall not eat Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die.’””

665

670

She scarce had said, though brief, when now more bold The Tempter, but with show of zeal and love To man, and indignation at his wrong, New part puts on, and as to passion moved, Fluctuates disturbed, yet comely, and in act Raised,° as of some great matter to begin. As when of old some orator renowned 3. Blooming trees that exude the aromatic gums myrrh and balm (balsam). 4. God’s only direct commandment (in Hebrew, Bath Kol, “daughter of a voice” from heaven). Otherwise (see following), they follow the moral law of nature, known to them perfectly by their unfallen reason, “our reason is our law.”

5. Eve’s formulation indicates her “sufficient” understanding of the prohibition and the conditions of life in Eden. See 3.98—101.

6. Drawn up to full dignity. Satan as the snake takes on the role of a Greek or Roman defending liberty (lines 670-72), or a Cicero.

orator

a Demosthenes

1658

|

JOHN

MILTON

In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence Flourished, since mute, to some great cause addressed,

Stood in himself collected, while each part, Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue,°

before speaking

Sometimes in height began, as no delay Of preface brooking’ through his zeal of right. So standing, moving, or to high upgrown

680

685

The Tempter all impassioned thus began: “O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, Mother of science,° now I feel thy power Within me clear, not only to discern Things in their causes, but to trace the ways Of highest agents, deemed however wise. Queen of this universe, do not believe Those rigid threats of death; ye shall not die: How should ye? By the fruit? It gives you life

knowledge

To knowledge.® By the Threat’ner? Look on me, Me who have touched and tasted, yet both live, 690

695

And life more perfect have attained than fate Meant me, by vent’ring higher than my lot. Shall that be shut to man, which to the beast Is open? Or will God incense his ire For such a petty trespass, and not praise Rather your dauntless virtue,° whom the pain Of death denounced,° whatever thing death be, Deterred not from achieving what might lead To happier life, knowledge of good and evil;

courage threatened

Of good, how just?? Of evil, if what is evil 700

710

Be real, why not known, since easier shunned? God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just; Not just, not God; not feared then,' nor obeyed: Your fear itself of death removes the fear. Why then was this forbid? Why but to awe, Why but to keep ye low and ignorant, His worshippers; he knows that in the day Ye eat thereof, your eyes that seem so clear, Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then Opened and cleared, and ye shall be as gods,? Knowing both good and evil as they know. That ye should be as gods, since I as man, Internal man, is but proportion meet,

I of brute human, ye of human gods.? So ye shall die perhaps, by putting off Human, to put on gods, death to be wished, I

wn

Though threatened, which no worse than this can bring. 7. Bursting into the middle of his speech without a preface, and “upgrown” to the impassioned high style (“high”) at once (lines 675-78).

1. Satan’s sophism invites atheism: if God forbids knowledge of good and evil he is not just,

8. Le., life as well as knowledge, and a better life

need not be feared.

enhanced

2. Hereafter, Satan speaks of “gods,” not God.

by knowledge,

which

Satan

in the

snake presents as a magical property of the tree.

9. .e., how can it be just to forbid the knowledge of good?

therefore not God, therefore his threat of death

3. Satan invites the aspiration to divinity, based on analogy to the supposed experience of the snake.

PARADISE

730

TEOSis

And what are gods that man may not become As they, participating® godlike food? The gods are first, and that advantage use On our belief, that all from them proceeds; I question it, for this fair earth I see, Warmed by the sun, producing every kind, Them nothing: if they all° things, who enclosed Knowledge of good and evil in this tree, That whoso eats thereof, forthwith attains Wisdom without their leave? And wherein lies Th’ offense, that man should thus attain to know? What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree Impart against his will if all be his? Or is it envy, and can envy dwell In heav’nly breasts? These, these and many more Causes import? your need of this fair fruit.

BOOK

9

|

1659

partaking of

produce all

prove

Goddess humane," reach then, and freely taste.”

“I Ww wi

He ended, and his words replete with guile Into her heart too easy entrance won: Fixed on the fruit she gazed, which to behold Might tempt alone, and in her ears the sound Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregned°®

impregnated

With reason, to her seeming, and with truth; Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and waked 740

An eager appetite, raised by the smell So savory of that fruit, which with desire,

Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, Solicited her longing eye; yet first Pausing a while, thus to herself she mused: “Great are thy virtues,° doubtless, best of fruits,

“I vwj=)

Though kept from man, and worthy to be admired, Whose taste, too long forborne, at first assay° Gave elocution to the mute, and taught The tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise: Thy praise he also who forbids thy use, Conceals not from us, naming thee the Tree Of Knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil; Forbids us then to taste, but his forbidding Commends

“I witwi)

thee more, while it infers° the good

By thee communicated, and our want:°

powers

try

implies lack

For good unknown, sure is not had, or had

760

And yet unknown, is as not had at all. In plain® then, what forbids he but to know, Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise? Such prohibitions bind not. But if death Bind us with after-bands,° what profits then Our inward freedom? In the day we eat Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die. How dies the serpent? He hath eat’n and lives, And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns, 4. Both “human” and “gracious” or “kindly.”

in plain words

later bonds

1660

|

JOHN

MILTON

Irrational till then. For us alone Was death invented? Or to us denied This intellectual food, for beasts reserved?

For beasts it seems: yet that one beast which first Hath tasted, envies® not, but brings with joy The good befall’n him, author unsuspect,” Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile.

begrudges

What fear I then, rather what know to fear ~I ay wa

Under this ignorance of good and evil, Of God or death, of law or penalty? Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine, Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste, Of virtue® to make wise: what hinders then

power

To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?” 780

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she eat.° Earth felt the wound, and nature from her seat

Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe, That all was lost. Back to the thicket slunk The guilty serpent, and well might, for Eve Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else Regarded, such delight till then, as seemed, In fruit she never tasted, whether true

Or fancied so, through expectation high 790

Of knowledge, nor was godhead from her thought.

Greedily she engorged without restraint, And knew not eating death:’ satiate at length, And heightened as with wine, jocund® and boon,° Thus to herself she pleasingly began: 795

800

merry / jolly

“O sov reign, virtuous, precious of all trees In Paradise, of operation blest To sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed,®

And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end Created; but henceforth my early care, Not without song, each morning, and due praise Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease

805

810

Of thy full branches offered free to all; Till dieted by thee I grow mature In knowledge, as the gods who all things know; Though others envy what they cannot give; For had the gift been theirs,’ it had not here Thus grown. Experience, next to thee I owe, Best guide; not following thee, I had remained In ignorance, thou open’st wisdom’s way, And giv’st accéss, though secret® she retire. And I perhaps am secret;° Heav’n is high, High and remote to see from thence distinct 5. An authority or informant beyond suspicion.

6. Ate: an accepted past tense, pronounced et. 7. Le., she is eating death and doesn’t know it, or

experience it yet, but also, punning, death is eating her too.

8. Slandered.

hidden unseen

“Sapience”:

tasting (Latin sapere). 9. Like Satan, Eve now

both knowledge and

conflates gods and God, ascribing envy but also lack of power to “them.”

RARADIISE

815

EOS

Each thing on earth; and other care perhaps May have diverted from continual watch Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies About him. But to Adam in what sort® Shall I appear? Shall I to him make known As yet my change, and give him to partake Full happiness with me, or rather not, But keep the odds° of knowledge in my power Without copartner? so to add what wants° In female sex, the more to draw his love, And render me more equal, and perhaps, A thing not undesirable, sometime Superior; for inferior who is free?! This may be well: but what if God have seen, And death ensue? Then I shall be no more,

BO Oe9

|

166]

guise

advantage lacks

And Adam wedded to another Eve, 830

Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct; A death to think. Confirmed then I resolve, Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe: So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life.” So saying, from the tree her step she turned,

835

But first low reverence done, as to the power

840

That dwelt within,” whose presence had infused Into the plant sciential® sap, derived From nectar, drink of gods. Adam the while Waiting desirous her return, had wove Of choicest flow’rs a garland to adorn

knowledge-producing

Her tresses, and her rural labors crown,

As reapers oft are wont? their harvest queen. Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and new

accustomed

Solace in her return, so long delayed; 845

850

Yet oft his heart, divine of° something ill, Misgave him; he the falt’ring measure? felt; And forth to meet her went, the way she took That morn when first they parted; by the Tree Of Knowledge he must pass; there he her met,

foreboding heartbeat

Scarce from the tree returning; in her hand

A bough of fairest fruit that downy smiled, New gathered, and ambrosial° smell diffused.

fragrant

To him she hasted, in her face excuse

Came prologue,’ and apology to prompt, 855

Which with bland® words at will she thus addressed.

mild, coaxing

“Hast thou not wondered, Adam, at my stay? Thee I have missed, and thought it long, deprived Thy presence, agony of love till now Not felt, nor shall be twice, for never more 860

Mean I to try, what rash untried I sought,

. Cf. Satan, 1.248—63, 5.790—97. Eve ends with idolatry, worship of the tree. I.e., excuse came like the prologue in a play, wWr—

and apology (justification, self-defense)

as prompter.

served

1662

|

JOHN

MILTON

The pain of absence from thy sight. But strange Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear: This tree is not as we are told, a tree 865

Of danger tasted,° nor to evil unknown Op'ning the way, but of divine effect To open eyes, and make them gods who taste; And hath been tasted such: the serpent wise, Or® not restrained as we, or not obeying,

if tasted

either

Hath eaten of the fruit, and is become, Not dead, as we are threatened, but thenceforth Endued with human voice and human sense,

Reasoning to admiration,’ and with me Persuasively® hath so prevailed, that I

wonderfully well by persuasion

Have also tasted, and have also found

Th’ effects to correspond, opener mine eyes, Dim erst,° dilated spirits, ampler heart, And growing up to godhead; which for thee Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. 880

885

before

For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss, Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon.

Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot May join us, equal joy, as equal love; Lest thou not tasting, different degree® Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce Deity for thee, when fate will not permit.” Thus Eve with count’nance blithe her story told; But in her cheek distemper? flushing glowed.

rank

On th’ other side, Adam, soon as he heard

The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed,°

stunned

890

Astonied® stood and blank, while horror chill

petrified

895

Ran through his veins, and all his joints relaxed; From his slack hand the garland wreathed for Eve Down dropped, and all the faded roses shed: Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length First to himself he inward silence broke: “O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God’s works, creature in whom excelled

Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! 900

How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow’red, and now to death devote?°?

doomed

Rather how hast thou yielded to transgress The strict forbiddance, how to violate 905

The sacred?® fruit forbidd’n! Some curséd fraud Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,

consecrated

And me with thee hath ruined, for with thee

Certain my resolution is to die; How can I live without thee, how forgo Thy sweet converse and love so dearly joined, 4. Compare Eve in soliloquy, lines 817—33. 5 l.e., disorder arising from disturbance of the balance of humors

in the body, intoxication,

PARADISE

910

LOST,

BOOK

9

1663

To live again in these wild woods forlorn? Should God create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no no, I feel The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh, Bone of my bone thou art,° and from thy state

920

Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.” So having said, as one from sad dismay Recomforted, and after thoughts disturbed Submitting to what seemed remédiless, Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turned: “Bold deed thou hast presumed, advent’rous Eve,

And peril great provoked, who thus hast dared Had it been only coveting to eye That sacred fruit, sacred® to abstinence, Much more to taste it under ban to touch. But past who can recall, or done undo? Not God omnipotent, nor fate; yet so Perhaps thou shalt not die, perhaps the fact°

set apart

deed

Is not so heinous now, foretasted fruit, 930

Profaned first by the serpent, by him first Made common and unhallowed ere our taste;

835

Nor yet on him found deadly, he yet lives, Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live as man Higher degree of life, inducement strong To us, as likely tasting to attain Proportional ascent, which cannot be But to be gods, or angels demigods. Nor can I think that God, Creator wise,

940

Though threat’ning, will in earnest so destroy Us his prime creatures, dignified so high, Set over all his works, which in our fall, For us created, needs with us must fail,

Dependent made; so God shall uncreate, Be frustrate, do, undo, and labor lose, 945

950

Not well conceived of God, who though his power Creation could repeat, yet would be loath Us to abolish, lest the Adversary°® Triumph and say; ‘Fickle their state whom God Most favors, who can please him long? Me first

Satan

He ruined, now mankind; whom will he next?’

Matter of scorn, not to be given the Foe. However I with thee have fixed my lot, Certain® to undergo like doom; if death Consort? with thee, death is to me as life;

So forcible within my heart I feel The bond of nature draw me to my own, My own in thee, for what thou art is mine; Our state cannot

be severed, we are one,

One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.” 6. Adam echoes Genesis 2.23—24.

resolved associate

1664

960

JOHN

MILTON

So Adam, and thus Eve to him replied:

“O glorious trial of exceeding’ love, Illustrious evidence, example high! Engaging me to emulate, but short Of thy perfection, how shall I attain, 965

Adam, from whose dear side I boast me sprung,

And gladly of our union hear thee speak, One heart, one soul in both; whereof good proof This day affords, declaring thee resolved, Rather than death or aught® than death more dread 970

anything other

Shall separate us, linked in love so dear, To undergo with me one guilt, one crime,

If any be, of tasting this fair fruit, Whose virtue,’ for of good still good proceeds, Direct, or by occasion® hath presented This happy trial of thy love, which else So eminently never had been known. Were it° I thought death menaced would ensue®

power indirectly if/result from

This my attempt, I would sustain alone The worst, and not persuade thee, rather die 980

Deserted, than oblige® thee with a fact°

bind / deed

Pernicious to thy peace, chiefly assured Remarkably so late of thy so true, So faithful love unequaled;* but I feel Far otherwise th’ event,° not death, but life 985

result

Augmented, opened eyes, new hopes, new joys, Taste so divine, that what of sweet before Hath touched my sense, flat seems to this, and harsh.

990

On my experience, Adam, freely taste, And fear of death deliver to the winds.” So saying, she embraced him, and forjoy Tenderly wept, much won that he his love Had so ennobled, as of choice to incur

995

Divine displeasure for her sake, or death. In recompense (for such compliance bad Such recompense best merits) from the bough She gave him of that fair enticing fruit With liberal hand: he scrupled not to eat Against his better knowledge, not deceived,’ But fondly° overcome with female charm.

1000

1005

Earth trembled from her entrails, as again In pangs, and nature gave a second groan; Sky loured, and muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completing of the mortal sin Original;' while Adam took no thought, Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterate® 7. The word, which Eve intends as praise, carries the implication of “excessive.” 8. L.e., since I have so recently been assured of your unparalleled love. 9. Cf. 1 Timothy 2.14: “And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in

foolishly

repeat

the transgression.” 1. The theological doctrine that all Adam’s descendants are stained by Adam’s sin and are thereby subject to physical death and (unless saved by grace) to damnation.

BAIRAIDISIE

LOLO

1015

2OSir

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Her former trespass feared, the more to soothe Him with her loved society, that now As with new wine intoxicated both They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel Divinity within them breeding wings Wherewith to scorn the earth: but that false fruit Far other operation first displayed, Carnal desire inflaming, he on Eve Began to cast lascivious eyes, she him As wantonly repaid; in lust they burn: Till Adam thus ‘gan Eve to dalliance move: “Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste,

And elegant, of sapience? no small part, Since to each meaning savor we apply, 1020

1025

1030

1035

And palate call judicious; I the praise

Yield thee, so well this day thou hast purveyed.° Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstained From this delightful fruit, nor known till now True relish, tasting; if such pleasure be In things to us forbidden, it might be wished, For this one tree had been forbidden ten. But come, so well refreshed, now let us play, As meet? is, after such delicious fare; For never did thy beauty since the day I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorned With all perfections, so inflame my sense With ardor to enjoy thee, fairer now Than ever, bounty of this virtuous tree.” So said he, and forbore not glance or toy® Of amorous intent, well understood Of? Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire.

provided

appropriate

caress

by

Her hand he seized, and to a shady bank,

Thick overhead with verdant roof embow’red 1040

He led her nothing loath; flow’rs were the couch, Pansies, and violets, and asphodel,

1045

And hyacinth, earth’s freshest softest lap. There they their fill of love and love’s disport Took largely, of their mutual guilt the seal, The solace of their sin, till dewy sleep Oppressed them, wearied with their amorous play. Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit,

1050

That with exhilarating vapor bland® About their spirits had played, and inmost powers Made err, was now exhaled, and grosser sleep Bred of unkindly fumes,’ with conscious dreams Encumbered,° now had left them, up they rose As from unrest, and each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how opened, and their minds

pleasing

unnatural

vapors

oppressed

How darkened; innocence, that as a veil 2. Adam commends

Eve for her fine (“exact”) and discriminating (“elegant”) taste, as a part of “sapi-

ence,” which means both “taste” and “wisdom.”

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Had shadowed them from knowing ill, was gone, Just confidence, and native righteousness, And honor from about them, naked left

1060

To guilty shame: he® covered, but his robe Uncovered more. So rose the Danite strong Herctlean Samson from the harlot-lap

shame

Of Philistéan Dalilah, and waked

Shorn of his strength,* they destitute and bare Of all their virtue: silent, and in face 1065

Confounded long they sat, as strucken mute, Till Adam, though not less than Eve abashed, At length gave utterance to these words constrained:° “O Eve, in evil* hour thou didst give ear To that false worm, of whomsoever taught

forced

To counterfeit man’s voice, true in our fall, 1070

False in our promised rising; since our eyes Opened we find indeed, and find we know

1075

Both good and evil, good lost and evil got,’ Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know, Which leaves us naked thus, of honor void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity, Our wonted® ornaments now soiled and stained,

accustomed

And in our faces evident the signs Of foul concupiscence;° whence evil store; Even shame, the last of evils; of the first 1080

1085

Be sure then. How shall I behold the face Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy And rapture so oft beheld? Those heav’nly shapes Will dazzle now this earthly, with their blaze Insufferably bright. O might I here In solitude live savage, in some glade Obscured, where highest woods impenetrable To star or sunlight, spread their umbrage® broad, And brown as evening: cover me ye pines,

shadow, foliage

Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs 1090

Hide me, where I may never see them more. But let us now, as in bad plight, devise

What best may for the present serve to hide The parts of each from other, that seem most To shame obnoxious,’ and unseemliest seen, 1095

exposed

Some tree whose broad smooth leaves together sewed, And girded on our loins, may cover round Those middle parts, that this newcomer, shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean.”

So counseled he, and both together went 3. Samson, of the tribe of Dan, told the “harlot”

Philistine Delilah that the secret of his strength (like that of Hercules) lay in his hair; she sheared

it off while he slept, and when he awoke he was easily captured and blinded by his enemies. 4. Adam’s bitter pun—Eve, evil—repudiates the actual etymology of Eve, “life,” which Adam will later reaffirm (11.159—61).

5. Milton, like most commentators, derives the tree’s name from the event (4.222, 11.84—89),

6. The theological term for the unruly human passions and desires seen as one effect of the

Fall, a sign of abundance

(“store”) of evils. If

“shame” (see following lines) is the “last” evil, the

“first” is probably the guiltiness that produces it, according to Milton's Christian Doctrine (1.12).

BARADIS E 3ZO Si,

1100

1105

1110

1115

Into the thickest wood, there soon they chose The fig tree,’ not that kind for fruit renowned, But such as at this day to Indians known In Malabar or Deccan spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillared shade High overarched, and echoing walks between; There oft the Indian herdsman shunning heat Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loopholes cut through thickest shade: those leaves They gathered, broad as Amazonian targe,° And with what skill they had, together sewed, To gird their waist, vain covering if to hide Their guilt and dreaded shame. O how unlike To that first naked glory. Such of late Columbus found th’ American so girt With feathered cincture,° naked else and wild,

1120

1125

1130

1135

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1667

shields

belt

Among the trees on isles and woody shores. Thus fenced, and as they thought, their shame in part Covered, but not at rest or ease of mind, They sat them down to weep, nor only tears Rained at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once

And full of peace, now tossed and turbulent: For understanding ruled not, and the will Heard not her lore, both in subjection now To sensual appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sov reign reason claimed Superior sway: from thus distempered breast,® Adam, estranged? in look and altered style, Speech intermitted® thus to Eve renewed: “Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and stayed With me, as I besought thee, when that strange Desire of wand’ring this unhappy morn,

unlike himself interrupted

I know not whence possessed thee; we had then

Remained still happy, not as now, despoiled Of all our good, shamed, naked, miserable. 1140

1145

Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve? The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.” To whom soon moved with touch of blame thus Eve: “What words have passed thy lips, Adam severe, Imput’st thou that to my default, or will Of wand’ring, as thou call’st it, which who knows But might as ill have happened thou being by,

prove

7. The banyan, or Indian fig, has small leaves,

India.

but the account Milton draws on from Gerard’s Herbal (1597) contains the details of lines 1104—11; Malabar and Deccan (line 1103) are in southern

8. The immediate psychological effects of the Fall are evident in the subjection of reason to the lower faculties of sensual appetite.

1668

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1155

1160

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JOHN

MILTON

Or to thyself perhaps: hadst thou been there, Or here th’ attempt, thou couldst not have discerned Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side? As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didst not thou the head Command me absolutely not to go, Going into such danger as thou saidst? Too facile® then thou didst not much gainsay,° Nay didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fixed in thy dissent, Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me.’ To whom then first incensed Adam replied. “Is this the love, is this the recompense

easy, mild / oppose

vy

1165

1170

Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, expressed® Immutable when thou wert lost, not I, Who might have lived and joyed immortal bliss,

Yet willingly chose rather And am I now upbraided, Of thy transgressing? not It seems, in thy restraint:

demonstrated

death with thee: as the cause enough severe, what could I more?

I warned thee, I admonished thee, foretold

The danger, and the lurking enemy That lay in wait; beyond this had been force, And force upon free will hath here no place. 1175

But confidence then bore thee on, secure®

1180

Either to meet no danger, or to find Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps I also erred in overmuch admiring What seemed in thee so perfect, that I thought No evil durst attempt thee, but I rue

self-assured

That error now, which is become my crime,

And thou th’ accuser. Thus it shall befall Him who to worth in women overtrusting 1185

Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brook,° And left to herself, if evil thence ensue,

accept

She first his weak indulgence will accuse.” Thus they in mutual accusation spent The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning, And of their vain contést appeared no end.

Book 10 The Argument Man's transgression known, the guardian angels forsake Paradise, and return up to heaven to approve their vigilance, and are approved, God declaring that the entrance of Satan could not be by them prevented. He sends his Son to judge the transgressors, who descends and gives sentence accordingly; then

PARADISE

LOST,

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in pity clothes them both, and reascends. Sin and Death, sitting till then at the gates of hell, by wondrous sympathy feeling the success of Satan in this new world, and the sin by man there committed, resolve to sit no longer con-

fined in hell, but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of man: to make the way easier from hell to this world to and fro, they pave a broad highway or bridge over chaos, according to the track that Satan first made; then preparing for earth, they meet him proud of his success returning to hell; their mutual gratulation. Satan arrives at Pandemonium, in full assembly relates with boasting his success against man; instead of applause is entertained with a general hiss by all his audience, transformed with himself also suddenly into serpents, according to his doom given in Paradise; then deluded with a show of the Forbidden Tree springing up before them, they greedily reaching to take of the fruit, chew dust and bitter ashes. The proceedings of Sin and Death; God foretells the final victory of his Son over them, and the renewing of all things; but for the present commands his angels to make several alterations in the heavens and elements. Adam more and more perceiving his fallen condition, heavily bewails, rejects the condolement of Eve; she persists and at length appeases him: then to evade the curse likely to fall on their offspring, proposes to Adam violent ways which he approves not, but conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the late promise made them, that her seed should be revenged on the Serpent, and exhorts her with him to seek peace of the offended Deity, by repentance and supplication. Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan done in Paradise, and how He in the serpent had perverted Eve, Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,

Was known in Heav’n; for what can scape the eye Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart Omniscient, who in all things wise and just,

Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind Of man, with strength entire, and free will armed, 10

Complete® to have discovered and repulsed Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend. For still they knew, and ought to have still° remembered The high injunction not to taste that fruit, Whoever tempted; which they not obeying, Incurred, what could they less, the penalty,

fully equipped always

And manifold in sin, deserved to fall.

20

25

Up into Heav’n from Paradise in haste Th’ angelic guards ascended, mute and sad For man, for of his state by this® they knew, Much wond ring how the subtle Fiend had stol’n Entrance unseen. Soon as th’ unwelcome news From earth arrived at Heaven gate, displeased All were who heard, dim sadness did not spare That time celestial visages, yet mixed With pity, violated not their bliss. About the new-arrived, in multitudes

Th’ ethereal people ran, to hear and know How all befell: they towards the throne supreme

this time

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JOHN

MILTON

Accountable made haste to make appear With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance, And easily approved;! when the Most High Eternal Father from his secret cloud,

40

Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice: “Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned From unsuccessful charge, be not dismayed, Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth, Which your sincerest care could not prevent, Foretold so lately what would come to pass, When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell. I told ye then he should prevail and speed®

succeed

On his bad errand, man should be seduced

And flattered out of all, believing lies Against his Maker; no decree of mine Concurring to necessitate his fall,

Or touch with lightest moment? of impulse His free will, to her own inclining left In even scale. But fall’n he is, and now

What rests,° but that the mortal sentence pass

remains

On his transgression, death denounced? that day,

decreed

Which he presumes already vain and void, Because not yet inflicted, as he feared, By some immediate stroke; but soon shall find

wa wa

Forbearance no acquittance ere day end.? Justice shall not return as bounty scorned. But whom send | to judge them? Whom but thee Vicegerent Son, to thee I have transferred All judgment, whether in Heav’n, or earth, or Hell.4

Easy it may be seen that I intend Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee 60

Man’s friend, his mediator, his designed

Both ransom and redeemer voluntary, And destined man himself to judge man fall’n.” So spake the Father, and unfolding bright Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son Blazed forth unclouded deity; he full Resplendent all his Father manifest Expressed, and thus divinely answered mild: “Father Eternal, thine is to decree, Mine both in Heav’n and earth to do thy will Supreme, that thou in me thy Son beloved

May’st ever rest well pleased. I go to judge On earth these thy transgressors; but thou know’st, Whoever judged, the worst on me must light, When time shall be, for so I undertook

Before thee; and not repenting, this obtain 1. The angels, “accountable” for guarding Eden, rush to God’s

throne

to explain that they had

exercised “utmost vigilance”; their plea is readily accepted (“easily approved”). 2. The smallest weight that would tip the scales.

3. A proverb: “Abstinence from enforcing a debt is not release from it.” Next line: My justice must

not be scorned as my generosity has been. 4. Cf. John 5.22: “For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son.”

PARADISE

80

85

LOST,

Of right, that I may mitigate their doom On me derived,° yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most° Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. Attendance none shall need, nor train,° where none Are to behold the judgment, but the judged, Those two; the third best absent is condemned, Convict® by flight, and rebel to all law: Conviction to the serpent none belongs.” Thus saying, from his radiant seat he rose Of high collateral° glory: him Thrones and Powers,

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1671

diverted

best show attendants

proved guilty

placed side by side

Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant

90

95

100

Accompanied to Heaven gate, from whence Eden and all the coast° in prospect lay. Down he descended straight; the speed of gods Time counts not,’ though with swiftest minutes winged. Now was the sun in western cadence® low From noon, and gentle airs due at their hour

region

falling

To fan the earth now waked, and usher in The evening cool, when he from wrath more cool

Came the mild Judge and Intercessor both To sentence man: the voice of God they heard Now walking in the garden, by soft winds Brought to their ears, while day declined; they heard, And from his presence hid themselves among The thickest trees, both man and wife, till God

105

Approaching, thus to Adam called aloud. “Where art thou Adam, wont? with joy to meet My coming seen far off? I miss thee here, Not pleased, thus entertained with solitude, Where obvious duty erewhile appeared unsought: Or come I less conspicuous, or what change Absents thee, or what chance detains? Come forth.”

used before

He came, and with him Eve, more loath, though first 110

To offend, discount’nanced both, and discomposed; Love was not in their looks, either to God Or to each other, but apparent? guilt, And shame, and perturbation, and despair,

easily seen

Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. 115

120

Whence Adam falt’ring long, thus answered brief: “I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice Afraid, being naked, hid myself.” To whom The gracious Judge without revile® replied: “My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not feared, But still° rejoiced, how is it now become

abuse

always

So dreadful to thee? That thou art naked, who

Hath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the tree WhereofI gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?” To whom thus Adam sore beset replied. 5. The Son’s descent is immediate; Raphael had taken much of the morning to travel from Heaven to earth (8.110—14).

1672

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JOHN

MILTON

“O Heavn! in evil strait this day I stand Before my Judge, either to undergo Myself the total crime, or to accuse My other self, the partner of my life; Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, I should conceal, and not expose to blame By my complaint; but strict necessity Subdues me, and calamitous constraint,

135

Lest on my head both sin and punishment, However insupportable, be all Devolved;? though should I hold my peace, yet thou Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. This woman whom thou mad’st to be my help, And gav’st me as thy perfect gift, so good,

fallen on

So fit, so acceptable, so divine, 140

That from her hand I could suspect no ill, And what she did, whatever in itself,

Her doing seemed to justify the deed; She gave me of the tree, and I did eat. 145

6

To whom the Sovreign Presence thus replied. “Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey Before his voice, or was she made thy guide, Superior, or but equal, that to her Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place Wherein God set thee above her made of thee,

150

155

And for thee,’ whose perfection far excelled Hers in all real dignity: adorned She was indeed, and lovely to attract Thy love, not thy subjection, and her gifts Were such as under government well seemed, Unseemly to bear rule, which was thy part And person,® hadst thou known thyself aright.” So having said, he thus to Eve in few°®

160

165

few words

“Say woman, what is this which thou hast done?” To whom sad Eve with shame nigh overwhelmed, Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge Bold or loquacious, thus abashed replied: “The serpent me beguiled and I did eat.” Which when the Lord God heard, without delay To judgment he proceeded on th’ accused Serpent though brute, unable to transfer The guilt on him who made him instrument Of mischief, and polluted from the end° Of his creation; justly then accursed,

purpose

As vitiated in nature:? more to know 6. Compare Adam’s speech in Genesis 3.12, and

the elements Milton adds of complaint, veiled accusation of God, and self-exculpation; also compare Eve’s answer in Genesis 3.13 and in lines 159-62 below. 7. Cf. 1 Corinthians 11.8—9: “For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. / Neither was the man created for the woman; but the

woman for the man.” 8. Role and character (persona), as in a drama.

9. The serpent was “unable to transfer” (line 165) his own guilt in being “polluted” from his proper end and nature onto Satan, who made him “instru-

ment,” so he was “justly... accursed,” but the terms of that judgment have a “mysterious” (line 173) or hidden meaning that applies to Satan.

PARADISE

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Concerned not man (since he no further knew)

Nor altered his offense; yet God at last To Satan first in sin his doom applied, Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best: And on the serpent thus his curse let fall. “Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed Above all cattle, each beast of the field; Upon thy belly groveling thou shalt go, And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. Between thee and the woman I will put Enmity, and between thine and her Seed; Her Seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.”! So spake this oracle, then verified

When Jesus son of Mary second Eve, Saw Satan fall like lightning down from Heav’n,” Prince of the air; then rising from his grave Spoiled Principalities and Powers, triumphed In open show, and with ascension bright Captivity led captive through the air, The realm itself of Satan long usurped, 190

195

Whom he shall tread at last under our feet; Ev’n he who now foretold his fatal bruise, And to the woman thus his sentence turned. “Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply

By thy conception; children thou shalt bring In sorrow forth, and to thy husband’s will Thine shall submit, he over thee shall rule.”

200

On Adam last thus judgment he pronounced. “Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife, And eaten of the tree concerning which I charged thee, saying: Thou shalt not eat thereof, Cursed is the ground for thy sake, thou in sorrow Shalt eat thereof all the days of thy life; Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth Unbid, and thou shalt eat th’ herb of the field,

205

In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, Till thou return unto the ground, for thou Out of the ground wast taken: know thy birth, For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.”

210

So judged he man, both judge and savior sent, And th’ instant stroke of death denounced? that day Removed far off; then pitying how they stood

announced

Before him naked to the air, that now

Must suffer change, disdained not to begin Thenceforth the form of servant to assume, 215

As when he washed his servants’ feet,’ so now 1. This is the so-called protoevangelion or judgment of the Serpent (Satan) that contains at the

same time the promise of the Redeemer (“her Seed”); Adam and Eve are led to understand it by

degrees. 2. Cf. Christ’s comment

to his disciples (Luke

10.18: “I beheld Satan as lightning fall from

heaven”), and also Colossians 2.15 and sians 4.8, to the following lines, 185-88.

Ephe-

3. Cf. Philippians 2.7: “[Christ] took upon him the form of a servant”; John 13.5: “he poureth water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet.”

1674

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JOHN

MILTON

As father of his family he clad Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or® slain,

Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid; And thought not much? to clothe his enemies: Nor he their outward only with the skins

either

too much

Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more

230

235

Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness, Arraying covered from his Father’s sight. To him with swift ascent he up returned, Into his blissful bosom reassumed In glory as of old, to him appeased All, though all-knowing, what had passed with man Recounted, mixing intercession sweet. Meanwhile ere thus was sinned and judged on earth, Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death, In counterview within the gates, that now Stood open wide, belching outrageous? flame Far into Chaos, since the Fiend passed through, Sin opening, who thus now to Death began: “O son, why sit we here each other viewing Idly, while Satan our great author® thrives

unrestrained

father

In other worlds, and happier seat provides For us his offspring dear? It cannot be, But that success attends him; if mishap, 240

Ere this he had returned, with fury driv’n

By his avengers, since no place like® this

as well as

Can fit his punishment, or their revenge.

245

250

tw wi wi

260

Methinks I feel new strength within me rise, Wings growing, and dominion giv’n me large Beyond this deep; whatever draws me on, Or sympathy, or some connatural force Powerful at greatest distance to unite With secret amity things of like kind By secretest conveyance.* Thou my shade Inseparable must with me along: For Death from Sin no power can separate. But lest the difficulty of passing back Stay his return perhaps over this gulf Impassable, impervious,° let us try Advent’rous work, yet to thy power and mine Not unagreeable, to found? a path Over this main from Hell to that new world Where Satan now prevails, a monument Of merit high to all th’ infernal host, Easing their passage hence, for intercourse,° Or transmigration,’ as their lot shall lead. Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn By this new-felt attraction and instinct.” Whom thus the meager® shadow answered soon:

impenetrable

establish

passing back and forth emigration emaciated

4. Sin feels an attraction (“sympathy”) drawing two things together, or an innate (“connatural”) force, linking her to Satan.

PARADISE

265

270

285

290

295

LOST,

“Go whither fate and inclination strong Leads thee, I shall not lag behind, nor err The way, thou leading, such a scent I draw Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste The savor of death from all things there that live: Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid.” So saying, with delight he snuffed the smell Of mortal change on earth. As when a flock Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, Against® the day of battle, to a field, Where armies lie encamped, come flying, lured With scent of living carcasses designed® For death, the following day, in bloody fight. So scented the grim feature,° and upturned His nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious°® of his quarry from so far. Then both from out Hell gates into the waste Wide anarchy of Chaos damp and dark Flew diverse,° and with power (their power was great) Hovering upon the water, what they met Solid or slimy, as in raging sea Tossed up and down, together crowded drive From each side shoaling® towards the mouth of Hell. As when two polar winds blowing adverse Upon the Cronian Sea,’ together drive Mountains of ice, that stop th’ imagined way Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich Cathaian coast. The aggregated soil Death with his mace petrific,° cold and dry,

BOOK

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anticipating

marked out form, shape keenly smelling, wise

in different directions

assembling

As with a trident smote, and fixed as firm

As Delos floating once; the rest his look Bound with Gorgonian rigor not to move,’

300

305

And with asphaltic slime;° broad as the gate, Deep to the roots of Hell the gathered beach They fastened, and the mole° immense wrought on Over the foaming deep high-arched, a bridge Of length prodigious joining to the wall?® Immovable of this now fenceless world Forfeit to Death; from hence a passage broad, Smooth, easy, inoffensive® down to Hell.

pitch pier

outer shell

free from obstacle

So, if great things to small may be compared, Xerxes,® the liberty of Greece to yoke,

From Susa his Memnonian palace high 5. The Arctic Ocean; the “imagined way” (lines 291-93) is the Northeast Passage to North China (“Cathay”) from Pechora (“Petsora”), a river in Siberia, which Henry Hudson could only imagine

(in 1608) because

it was

blocked

with ice. 6. Turning things to stone. 7. Anything the Gorgon Medusa looked upon turned to stone. Death’s materials are the “cold

and dry” elements; his mace is associated with Neptune’s “trident,” which was said to have “fixed” the floating Greek island of Delos. 8. The Persian king Xerxes ordered the sea whipped when it destroyed the bridge of ships he built over the Hellespont (linking Europe and Asia) so as to invade Greece. “Susa” (next line): Xerxes’ winter residence, founded by the mythical prince Memnon.

1676

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Came to the sea, and over Hellespont

310

315

Bridging his way, Europe with Asia joined, And scourged with many a stroke th’ indignant waves. Now had they brought the work by wondrous art Pontifical,’ a ridge of pendent rock Over the vexed? abyss, following the track Of Satan, to the selfsame place where he First lighted from his wing, and landed safe From out of Chaos to the outside bare Of this round world: with pins of adamant

stormy

And chains they made all fast, too fast they made

320

325

And durable; and now in little space The confines® met of empyrean Heav’n And of this world, and on the left hand Hell With long reach interposed; three sev’ral ways In sight, to each of these three places led.’ And now their way to earth they had descried,° To Paradise first tending, when behold Satan in likeness of an angel bright Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion? steering

boundaries

perceived

His zenith, while the sun in Aries rose:

330 |Disguised he came, but those his children dear Their parent soon discerned, though in disguise. He, after Eve seduced, unminded? slunk

335

340

345

350

unnoticed

Into the wood fast by, and changing shape To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act By Eve, though all unweeting,° seconded Upon her husband, saw their shame that sought Vain covertures;° but when he saw descend The Son of God to judge them, terrified He fled, not hoping to escape, but shun The present, fearing guilty what his wrath Might suddenly inflict; that past, returned By night, and list’ning where the hapless pair Sat in their sad discourse, and various plaint, Thence gathered his own doom, which understood Not instant, but of future time.? With joy And tidings fraught, to Hell he now returned, And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot Of this new wondrous pontifice,° unhoped Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight Of that stupendous bridge his joy increased. Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair Enchanting daughter, thus the silence broken: “O parent, these are thy magnific deeds,

unaware garments

bridge

9. Bridge-building, with a pun on “papal” (the

Centaur”) and Scorpio, thereby passing through

pope had the title “pontifex maximus’). 1. The golden staircase or chain linking the

Anguis, the constellation of the Serpent. 3. This evidently refers to the plaints and dis-

universe to Heaven, the new bridge linking it to Hell, and the passage through the spheres down

course of Adam and Eve (lines 720-1104 below), which therefore precede Satan’s return to Hell

to earth.

(lines 345—609).

2. Satan

steered

between

Sagittarius

(“the

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

10

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1677

Thy trophies,* which thou view’st as not thine own, Thou art their author and prime architect: For I no sooner in my heart divined,

360

365

370

380

385

390

My heart, which by a secret harmony Still moves with thine, joined in connection sweet, That thou on earth hadst prospered, which thy looks Now also evidence, but straight? I felt Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt That I must after thee with this thy son; Such fatal consequence? unites us three: Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds, Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure Detain from following thy illustrious track. Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined Within Hell gates till now, thou us empow’red To fortify thus far, and overlay With this portentous® bridge the dark abyss. Thine now is all this world, thy virtue® hath won What thy hands builded not, thy wisdom gained With odds° what war hath lost, and fully avenged Our foil in Heav’n; here thou shalt monarch reign, There didst not; there let him still victor sway, As battle hath adjudged, from this new world Retiring, by his own doom alienated,

And henceforth monarchy with thee divide Of all things parted by th’ empyreal bounds, His quadrature, from thy orbicular world,° Or try° thee now more dangerous to his throne.” Whom thus the Prince of Darkness answered glad: “Fair daughter, and thou son and grandchild both, High proof ye now have giv’n to be the race Of Satan (for I glory in the name, Antagonist’ of Heav’n’s Almighty King) Amply have merited of me, of all Th’ infernal empire, that so near Heav’n’s door Triumphal with triumphal act® have met, Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm

at once

marvelous, ominous

power, courage

advantage

discover by experience

Hell and this world, one realm, one continent

Of easy thoroughfare. Therefore while I Descend through darkness, on your road with ease 395

To my associate powers, them to acquaint

With these successes, and with them rejoice,

You two this way, among those numerous orbs All yours, right down to Paradise descend; 4. Objects or persons captured in battle were displayed in the Triumphs accorded Roman generals and emperors who had won a great military victory; the term casts Satan’s conquests in Eden in such terms. 5. Connection of cause and effect. 6. Revelation 21.16 describes the City of God as “foursquare, and the length is as large as the breadth”; Satan’s new conquest, earth, is an orb.

Sin may imply its superiority (being a sphere). 7. The name “Satan” means “adversary” or “antagonist.” 8. The repeated word emphasizes that Satan is enacting a Triumph, passing over a triumphal bridge rather than through triumphal arches; the scene would likely evoke the “Roman” Triumph and triumphal arches celebrating the Restoration of Charles II.

1678

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JOHN

MILTON

There dwell and reign in bliss, thence on the earth 400

Dominion exercise and in the air, Chiefly on man, sole lord of all declared,

Him first make sure your thrall,° and lastly kill. My substitutes I send ye, and create Plenipotent® on earth, of matchless might 405

410

slave with full power

Issuing from me: on your joint vigor now

My hold of this new kingdom all depends, Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit. If your joint power prevail, th’ affairs of Hell No detriment need fear, go and be strong.” So saying he dismissed them, they with speed Their course through thickest constellations held Spreading their bane;° the blasted® stars looked wan,

poison / ruined

And planets, planet-strook,’ real eclipse Then suffered. Th’ other way Satan went down The causey® to Hell gate; on either side

causeway

Disparted Chaos over-built exclaimed, And with rebounding surge the bars assailed, That scorned his indignation.’ Through the gate, 420

Wide open and unguarded, Satan passed, And all about found desolate; for those?

Appointed to sit there, had left their charge, Flown to the upper world; the rest were all Far to the inland retired, about the walls Of Pandemonium, city and proud seat 425

Of Lucifer, so by allusion® called, Of that bright star to Satan paragoned.? There kept their watch the legions, while the grand* In council sat, solicitous® what chance

430

435

440

metaphor

anxious

Might intercept their emperor sent, so he Departing gave command, and they observed. As when the Tartar from his Russian foe By Astracan over the snowy plains Retires, or Bactrian Sophi from the horns Of Turkish crescent, leaves all waste beyond The realm of Aladule, in his retreat To Tauris or Casbeen: so these the late Heav’n-banished host, left desert utmost Hell

Many a dark league, reduced? in careful watch Round their metropolis, and now expecting Each hour their great adventurer from the search Of foreign worlds: he through the midst unmarked,° 9. Suffering not merely a temporary eclipse but a real loss of light, as from the malign influence of an adverse planet. 1. Chaos is the instinctive enemy of all order, so hostile to the bridge built over it. 2. Sin and Death. 3. Satan before his fall was

Lucifer, the Light-

bringer, and the morning star is named Lucifer because it is compared (“paragoned”) to him. 4. The “grand infernal peers” who govern (cf. 2.507).

drawn together

unnoticed

5. The simile, begun in line 431, compares the fallen angels, withdrawn from other regions of Hell to guard their metropolis, to Tartars retiring before attacking Russians and Persians retreating before the attacking Turks. “Astracan”: a region west of the Caspian Sea inhabited by Russia and defended against Turks and Tartars; “Aladule”: the region of Armenia, from which the last Persian ruler, called Anadule, a “Bactrian Sophi” (Persian shah), was forced to retreat from the Turks, to Tabriz (“Tauris”) and Kazvin (“Casbeen”).

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

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1679

In show plebeian angel militant Of lowest order, passed; and from the door Of that Plutonian® hall, invisible 445

Ascended his high throne, which under state® Of richest texture spread, at th’ upper end Was placed in regal luster. Down a while

canopy

He sat, and round about him saw unseen:

455

460

465

470

At last as from a cloud his fulgent head And shape star-bright appeared, or brighter, clad With what permissive® glory since his fall Was left him, or false glitter: all amazed At that so sudden blaze the Stygian’ throng Bent their aspéct, and whom they wished beheld, Their mighty chief returned: loud was th’ acclaim: Forth rushed in haste the great consulting peers, Raised from their dark divan,® and with like joy Congratulant approached him, who with hand Silence, and with these words attention won:

permitted

“Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers,

For in possession such, not only of right, I call ye’ and declare ye now, returned Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth Triumphant out of this infernal pit Abominable, accurst, the house of woe, And dungeon of our tyrant: now possess, As lords, a spacious world, to our native Heaven Little inferior, by my adventure hard With peril great achieved. Long were to tell What I have done, what suffered, with what pain

Voyaged th’ unreal,° vast, unbounded deep

unformed

Of horrible confusion, over which

480

By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved To expedite your glorious march; but I Toiled out my uncouth? passage, forced to ride Th’ untractable abyss, plunged in the womb Of unoriginal’ Night and Chaos wild, That jealous of their secrets fiercely opposed Myjourney strange, with clamorous uproar Protesting Fate* supreme; thence how I found The new-created world, which fame in Heav’n Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful

strange

Of absolute perfection, therein man

Placed in a paradise, by our exile Made happy: him by fraud I have seduced From his Creator, and the more to increase

Your wonder, with an apple. He thereat Offended, worth your laughter, hath giv’n up Both his beloved man and all his world, 6. Pertaining to Pluto, ruler of the classical underworld. 7. Of the river Styx in Hades, the river of hate. 8. The Turkish Council of State.

9. I.e., you now have these titles not only by right but by possession (from the conquest on earth). 1. Having no origin, uncreated. 2. Protesting both to and against Fate.

1680

490

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JOHN

MILTON

To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, Without our hazard, labor, or alarm, To range in, and to dwell, and over man To rule, as over all he should have ruled.

495

True is, me also Me not, but the Man I deceived; Is enmity, which

he hath judged, or rather brute serpent in whose shape that which to me belongs, he will put between

Me and mankind; I am to bruise his heel; His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head: 500

510

A world who would not purchase with a bruise, Or much more grievous pain? Ye have th’ account Of my performance: what remains, ye gods, But up and enter now into full bliss.” So having said, a while he stood, expecting Their universal shout and high applause To fill his ear, when contrary he hears On all sides, from innumerable tongues ‘A dismal universal hiss, the sound Of public scorn; he wondered, but not long Had leisure, wond’ring at himself now more;

His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare, His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining Each other, till supplanted° down he fell A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, Reluctant,° but in vain, a greater power

tripped up

struggling

Now ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned,

525

According to his doom: he would have spoke, But hiss for hiss returned with forkéd tongue To forkéd tongue, for now were all transformed Alike, to serpents? all as accessories To his bold riot:° dreadful was the din Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now With complicated°® monsters, head and tail, Scorpion and asp, and amphisbaena dire, Cerastes horned, hydrus, and ellops drear, And dipsas? (not so thick swarmed once the soil Bedropped with blood of Gorgon, or the isle Ophiusa)°® but still greatest he the midst, Now dragon grown, larger than whom the sun Engendered in the Pythian vale on slime, Huge Python,’ and his power no less he seemed Above the rest still to retain; they all 3. Ironically, the final word of Satan’s proud, tri-

revolt

tangled

umphal speech rhymes with and so prepares for

end; “Cerastes” is an asp with horny projections over each eye; “hydrus” and “ellops” were mythi-

the “hiss” (line 508) that will soon greet him, as

cal water snakes; “dipsas” was a mythical snake

his would-be triumph is turned by God to abject humiliation.

4. The scene recalls Dante’s vivid description of the thieves metamorphosed to snakes in Inferno 24-25.

5. The “scorpion” has a venomous sting at the tip of the tail; “asp” is a small Egyptian viper; “amphisbaena” supposedly had a head at each

whose bite caused raging thirst.

6. Drops of blood from the Gorgon Medusa’s severed head turned into snakes; “Ophiusa” in Greek means “isle of snakes.” 7. A gigantic serpent engendered from the slime left by Deucalion’s flood; Apollo slew him and appropriated the “Pythian” vale and shrine at Delphi.

PARADISE

540

LOST,

BOOK

Him followed issuing forth to th’ open field, Where all yet left of that revolted rout Heav’n-fall’n, in station stood orjust array,® Sublime® with expectation when to see In triumph issuing forth their glorious chief; They saw, but other sight instead, a crowd Of ugly serpents; horror on them fell, And horrid sympathy; for what they saw, They felt themselves now changing; down their arms, Down fell both spear and shield, down they as fast,

10

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1681

raised up

And the dire hiss renewed, and the dire form Catched by contagion, like in punishment, 545

550

As in their crime. Thus was th’ applause they meant, Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There stood A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change, His will who reigns above, to aggravate Their penance,° laden with fair fruit, like that

punishment

Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve

Used by the Tempter: on that prospect strange Their earnest eyes they fixed, imagining For one forbidden tree a multitude 555

560

Now ris’n, to work them further woe or shame;

Yet parched with scalding thirst and hunger fierce, Though to delude them sent, could not abstain, But on they rolled in heaps, and up the trees Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks That curled Megaera:’ greedily they plucked The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed;! This more delusive, not the touch, but taste

565

Deceived; they fondly° thinking to allay Their appetite with gust,° instead of fruit

foolishly relish

Chewed bitter ashes, which th’ offended taste

570

With spattering noise rejected: oft they assayed,° Hunger and thirst constraining, drugged as oft, With hatefulest disrelish writhed their jaws With soot and cinders filled; so oft they fell

attempted

Into the same illusion, not as man

Whom they triumphed once lapsed.* Thus were they plagued And worn with famine, long and ceaseless hiss,

Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed,’ Yearly enjoined, some say, to undergo This annual humbling certain numbered days, To dash their pride, and joy for man seduced. However some tradition they dispersed Among the heathen of their purchase? got, 8. L.e., at their posts or on parade. 9. One of three Furies with snaky hair. 1, Sodom apples reputedly grew on the spot where the accursed city once stood, now the Dead Sea (“that bituminous lake”); the apples look good but

dissolve into ashes when eaten.

plunder

2. Unlike man who fell once, they try to eat the dissolving apples over and over again. 3. God permitted them to regain their “lost shape” as fallen angels; but they are undergoing a slower, natural metamorphosis into grosser substance by their continuing commitment to and choice of evil.

1682

wa foo)nn

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JOHN

MILTON

And fabled how the serpent, whom they called Ophion with Eurynome, the wideEncroaching Eve perhaps, had first the rule Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driv’n And Ops, ere yet Dictaean Jove was born.* Meanwhile in Paradise the hellish pair Too soon arrived, Sin there in power before,

Once actual, now in body, and to dwell Habitual habitant;? behind her Death

Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horse:° to whom Sin thus began: “Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death, What think’st thou of our empire now, though earned With travail® difficult, not better far wil\O wn

labor

Than still at Hell’s dark threshold to have sat watch, Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half-starved?”

Whom thus the Sin-born monster answered soon: “To me, who with eternal famine pine, Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven,

There best, where most with ravin® | may meet; 600

ney,

Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems

To stuff this maw, this vast unhidebound corpse.”’ To whom th’ incestuous mother thus replied: “Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flow’rs Feed first, on each beast next, and fish, and fowl, 605

No homely morsels, and whatever thing Thy scythe of Time mows down, devour unspared, Till Lin man residing through the race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect,

610

And season him thy last and sweetest prey.” This said, they both betook them several ways, Both to destroy, or unimmortal make All kinds, and for destruction to mature

615

Sooner or later; which th’ Almighty seeing, From his transcendent seat the saints among, To those bright orders uttered thus his voice: “See with what heat these dogs of Hell advance To waste and havoc? yonder world, which I So fair and good created, and had still Kept in that state, had not the folly of man Let in these wasteful furies, who impute Folly to me, so doth the Prince of Hell And his adherents, that with so much ease I suffer them to enter and possess A place so heav’nly, and conniving seem

plunder

4. The Titan Ophion (whose name means “snake”) and his wife Eurynome (“the widereacher”) ruled Olympus until driven away by “Saturn” and his wife Ops, who were in turn overthrown by Jove, who lived on the mountain Dicte. Milton suggests that these may represent versions of the story transmitted by the fallen

committed by Adam and Eve; now she will dwell there in her own body and in all other bodies. 6. Cf. Revelation 6.8: “behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell

angels to the pagans (lines 578—79),

hunger is such that it can never fill its skin.

5. Sin was present in Eden in the actual sins

followed with him.” 7. Its hide does not cling close to its bones: Death’s

PARADISE

625

635

640

645

BOOK

10

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1683

‘To gratify my scornful enemies, That laugh, as if transported with some fit Of passion, I to them

630

LOST,

had quitted all,°

At random yielded up to their misrule; And know not that I called and drew them thither My hellhounds, to lick up the draff° and filth Which man’s polluting sin with taint hath shed On what was pure, till crammed and gorged, nigh burst With sucked and glutted offal, at one sling Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, Both Sin, and Death, and yawning grave at last Through Chaos hurled, obstruct the mouth of Hell Forever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. Then Heav’n and earth renewed shall be made pure To sanctity that shall receive no stain: Till then the curse pronounced on both precedes.”° He ended, and the heav’nly audience loud Sung hallelujah, as the sound of seas, Through multitude that sung: “Just are thy ways, Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works;

handed everything over

dregs

takes precedence

Who can extenuate® thee? Next, to the Son,

disparage

Destined restorer of mankind, by whom

650

New heav’n and earth shall to the ages rise, Or down from Heav’n descend.” Such was their song, While the Creator calling forth by name His mighty angels gave them several charge, As sorted® best with present things. The sun

suited

Had first his precept so to move, so shine,

655

As might affect the earth with cold and heat Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call Decrepit winter, from the south to bring white, pale

Solstitial summer's heat. To the blank° moon Her office they prescribed, to th’ other five

Their planetary motions and aspécts*® In sextile, square, and trine, and opposite,

660

Of noxious efficacy, and when to join conjunction /fixed stars

In synod® unbenign, and taught the fixed® Their influence malignant when to show’,

Which of them rising with the sun, or falling, Should prove tempestuous:° to the winds they set 665

670

productive of storms

‘Their corners, when with bluster to confound Sea, air, and shore, the thunder when to roll

With terror through the dark aerial hall. Some say” he bid his angels turn askance The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more From the sun’s axle; they with labor pushed Oblique the centric globe:° some say the sun 8. Astrological positions. The next line names positions of 60, 90, 120, and 180 degrees, respec-

the earth

order so as to change the prelapsarian eternal spring. The Copernican explanation (offered first)

tively.

proposes that the earth’s axis is now tilted (lines

9, The poem offers both a Ptolemaic and a Coper-

668-71);

nican explanation of the shifts made in the cosmic

plane of the sun’s orbit is tilted (lines 671-78).

the Ptolemaic explanation

is that the

1684

|

JOHN

MILTON

the equator

Was bid turn reins from th’ equinoctial road® Like distant breadth to Taurus! with the sev’n

Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins Up to the Tropic Crab; thence down amain®

at full speed

By Leo and the Virgin and the Scales,

As deep as Capricorn, to bring in change Of seasons to each clime; else® had the spring

otherwise

Perpetual smiled on earth with vernant? flow’rs, 680

685

spring

Equal in days and nights, except to those Beyond the polar circles; to them day Had unbenighted® shone, while the low sun To recompense his distance, in their sight

without any night

Had rounded still°® th’ horizon, and not known Or? east or west, which had forbid the snow From cold Estotiland, and south as far

always either

Beneath Magellan.’ At that tasted fruit The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turned

His course intended;? else how had the world 690

Inhabited, though sinless, more than now,

Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? These changes in the heav’ns, though slow, produced Like shesivas on sea and land, perl blast,* Vapor, and mist, and epalanion hot, 695

700

Corrupt and pestilent: now from the north Of Norumbega, and the Samoed shore Bursting their brazen dungeon, armed with ice And snow and hail and stormy gust and flaw,° Boreas and Caecias and Argestes loud

squall

And Thrascias rend the woods and seas upturn;

With adverse blast upturns them from the south Notus and Afer black with thund’rous clouds From Serraliona,’ thwart of these as fierce

Forth rush the Levant and the ponent® winds Eurus and Zephyr with their lateral noise, Sirocco and Libecchio.® Thus began

opposing

Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first

Daughter of Sin, among th’ irrational, Death introduced through fierce antipathy:’ 710

Beast now with beast gan war, and fowl with fowl,

And fish with fish; to graze the herb? all leaving,

grass

Devour’d each other; nor stood much in awe 1, Lines 673-78 trace the sun’s apparent (Ptolemaic) journey from Aries through Taurus and the rest of the zodiac over the course of the year. The region of the Straits of Magellan, at the tip of South America. “Estotiland” (line 686): northern Labrador. 3. As a revenge, Atreus killed one of the sons of his brother Thyestes and served him in a banquet to that brother; the sun changed course to avoid the sight. 4. Malevolent stellar influences. “Norumbega” (line 696): northern New England and maritime Canada; “Samoed” Shore: northeastern Siberia. 5. Winds (701-6) from the south (“Notus,” “Afer”)

come from Sierra Leone (“Serraliona”) on the west

coast of Africa; “Boreas,” “Caecias,” “Argestes,” and “Thrascias” are all winds that blow from the north, northeast, and northwest, bursting from

the cave

(“brazen

dungeon”)

in which

Aeolus

imprisoned the winds (lines 695—700),. 6. Crossing the north and south winds (“thwart,”

line 703) are the “Levant” (from the east) and “Eurus” (east southeast), ise ne west '“Zephyr,” the west wind; “Sirocco” and “Libecchio” come

from the southeast and southwest, respectively. 7. Discord (personified as daughter of Sin) introduced Death among the animals (‘th’ irrational”) by stirring up “antipathy” among them.

PARADISE

LOST;

BOOK

10

1685

Of man, but fled him, or with count’nance grim Glared on him passing: these were from without The growing miseries, which Adam saw Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorrow abandoned, but worse felt within,

~I we=)

And in a troubled sea of passion tossed, Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint: “O miserable of happy!® Is this the end Of this new glorious world, and me so late The glory of that glory, who now become Accurst of blesséd, hide me from the face Of God, whom to behold was then my height

~l tw a7

Of happiness: yet well, if here

would end

The misery, I deserved it, and would bear

My own deservings; but this will not serve; All that I eat or drink, or shall beget, 730

“I ws wi

Is propagated” curse. O voice once heard Delightfully, ‘Increase and multiply, Now death to hear! For what can I increase Or multiply, but curses on my head? Who of all ages to succeed, but feeling The evil on him brought by me, will curse My head: ‘Ill fare our ancestor impure, For this we may thank Adam’; but his thanks Shall be the execration; so besides Mine own that bide upon me, all from me

740

Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound, On me as on their natural center light Heavy, though in their place.' O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes! Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mold me man, did I solicit thee

745

750

~I wi wit

From darkness to promote me, or here place In this delicious garden? As my will Concurred not to my being, it were but right And equal® to reduce me to my dust, Desirous to resign, and render back All I received, unable to perform Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. To the loss of that, Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added The sense of endless woes? Inexplicable Thy justice seems; yet to say truth, too late

just

I thus contest; then should have been refused

Those terms whatever, when they were proposed: Thou? didst accept them; wilt thou enjoy the good, 8. Adam’s complaint begins with the classical formula for a tragic fall, or peripeteia, the change from happiness to misery. 9. Handed down from one generation to the next. 1. Le., Adam’s “own” curse will remain (“bide”) with him, and the curse (“execration”) of “all”

who descend from him will “redound” on him as to their “natural center ”; objects so placed (“in their place”) were thought to be weightless (“light”), but these curses will be “heavy.” 2. Adam turns from addressing God to address himself.

1686

|

JOHN

MILTON

760

Then cavil® the conditions? And though God Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son

~Ifoswi

‘Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not’: Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee That proud excuse? Yet him not thy election,° But natural necessity begot.

object frivolously to

Prove disobedient, and reproved, retort,

choice

God made thee of choice his own, and of his own

To serve him, thy reward was of his grace, Thy punishment then justly is at his will. Be it so, for I submit, his doom is fair, That dust I am, and shall to dust return:

I ~I VI

780

O welcome hour whenever! Why delays His hand to execute what his decree Fixed on this day? Why do I overlive, Why am I mocked with death, and lengthened out To deathless pain? How gladly would I meet Mortality my sentence, and be earth Insensible, how glad would lay me down As in my mother’s lap! There I should rest And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more Would thunder in my ears, no fear of worse To me and to my offspring would torment me With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt Pursues me still, lest all I° cannot die,

785

all of me

Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of man Which God inspired, cannot together perish With this corporeal clod; then in the grave,

Or in some other dismal place, who knows But I shall die a living death? O thought Horrid, if true! Yet why? It was but breath 790

Of life that sinned; what dies but what had life

And sin? The body properly hath neither. All of me then shall die:* let this appease The doubt, since human reach no further knows.

For though the Lord of all be infinite, Is his wrath also? Be it, man is not so,

800

But mortal doomed. How can he exercise Wrath without end on man whom death must end? Can he make deathless death? That were to make Strange contradiction, which to God himself Impossible is held, as argument Of weakness, not of power. Will he draw out,

For anger’s sake, finite to infinite In punished man, to satisfy his rigor Satisfied never; that were to extend 805

His sentence beyond dust and nature’s law, By which all causes else according still

3. After debating the matter, Adam concludes that the soul dies with the body; Milton in his Christian Doctrine worked out this “mortalist” doctrine, with its corollary, that both soul and body rise at the Last Judgment.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

10

|

1687

To the reception of their matter act, Not to th’ extent of their own sphere.* But say That death be not one stroke, as I supposed, 810

Bereaving® sense, but endless misery

From this day onward, which I feel begun Both in me, and without? me, and so last

830

To perpetuity; ay me, that fear Comes thund’ring back with dreadful revolution® On my defenseless head; both Death and I Am found eternal, and incorporate® both, Nor I on my part single, in me all Posterity stands cursed: fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons; O were I able To waste it all myself, and leave ye none! So disinherited how would ye bless Me now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind For one man’s fault thus guiltless be condemned, If guiltless? But from me what can proceed, But all corrupt, both mind and will depraved, Not to do° only, but to will the same With me? How can they then acquitted stand In sight of God? Him after all disputes Forced | absolve: all my evasions vain And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still But to my own conviction: first and last On me, me only, as the source and spring

taking away

outside of return

made one body

act

Of all corruption, all the blame lights due; 835

So might the wrath.” Fond? wish! Couldst thou support That burden heavier than the earth to bear, Than all the world much heavier, though divided With that bad woman? Thus what thou desir’st,

foolish

And what thou fear’st, alike destroys all hope

Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable Beyond all past example and future, To Satan only like both crime and doom. O conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driv’n me; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged!” Thus Adam to himself lamented loud Through the still night, not now, as ere man fell, Wholesome and cool, and mild, but with black air

850

Accompanied, with damps?° and dreadful gloom, Which to his evil conscience represented All things with double terror: on the ground Outstretched he lay, on the cold ground, and oft Cursed his creation, Death as oft accused Of tardy execution, since denounced®

nHOXiOUS vapors

pronounced

The day of his offense: “Why comes not Death,” 4. Adam convinces himself that “finite” matter

by an axiom of traditional philosophy, that by

limited by the nature of the object they act upon. 5. Cf. the Son’s offer to accept all humankind’s guilt (3.236—41), and Eve’s similar offer (10.933—

“nature’s law” (line 805) the actions of agents are

36).

(line 802) cannot

suffer “infinite” punishment

1688

855

|

JOHN

MILTON

Said he, “with one thrice-acceptable stroke To end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word,

Justice divine not hasten to be just? But Death comes not at call, Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. 860

O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bow’rs,

With other echo late I taught your shades To answer, and resound far other song.’° Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld,

sos

870

Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh, Soft words to his fierce passion she assayed;° But her with stern regard he thus repelled: “Out of my sight, thou serpent,’ that name best Befits thee with him leagued, thyself as false And hateful; nothing wants,° but that thy shape,

attempted

is lacking

~Like his, and color serpentine may show

Thy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from thee Henceforth; lest that too heav’nly form, pretended®

s75

sso.

To hellish falsehood, snare them. But° for thee I had persisted happy, had not thy pride And wand’ring vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdained Not to be trusted, longing to be seen Though by the Devil himself, him overweening® To overreach, but with the serpent meeting Fooled and beguiled, by him thou, I by thee, To trust thee from my side, imagined wise,

except

overconfident

Constant, mature, proof against all assaults,

And understood not all was but a show Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib

sss

s90

895

Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister° from me drawn, Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found.’ O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav’n With Spirits masculine,' create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature,” and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind? This mischief had not then befall’n,

the left side

And more that shall befall, innumerable

Disturbances on earth through female snares, And strait conjunction? with this sex: for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such 6. Cf. their morning hymn (5.153—208). 7. Adam’s bitter, misogynistic outery begins with reference to the patristic notion that the name Eve, aspirated, means “serpent.” 8. Held in front, as a cover or mask. 9. It was supposed that Adam had thirteen ribs on the left side, so he could spare one for the creation of Eve and still retain the proper (“just”)

number, twelve. 1. The Miltonic bard indicated that angels can assume at will “either sex... or both” (1.424). 2. Aristotle had claimed that the female is a defective male. 3. Close, hard-pressing, binding union: Adam then projects the problems of future marriages.

PARADISE

900

905

910

LOST,

As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained By a far worse, or if she love, withheld By parents, or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already linked and wedlock-bound To a fell° adversary, his hate or shame: Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace confound.” He added not, and from her turned, but Eve

BOOK

10

|

1689

bitter

Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing,

And tresses all disordered, at his feet Fell humble, and embracing them, besought His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint: “Forsake me not thus, Adam, witness Heav’n 915

What love sincere, and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting® have offended, Unhappily deceived; thy suppliant I beg, and clasp thy knees;* bereave me not, Whereon | live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps,

unintentionally

Between us two let there be peace, both joining,

As joined in injuries, one enmity Against a foe by doom express? assigned us, That cruel serpent: on me exercise not Thy hatred for this misery befall’n, On me already lost, me than thyself

explicit judgment

More miserable; both have sinned, but thou

Against God only, I against God and thee, And to the place of judgment will return, There with my cries importune Heaven, that all The sentence from thy head removed may light 935

On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe,

Me me only just object of his ire.” She ended weeping, and her lowly plight,° Immovable till peace obtained from fault Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought 940

posture

Commiseration; soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress,

Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, 945

His counsel whom she had displeased, his aid; As one disarmed, his anger all he lost,

And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon: “Unwary, and too desirous, as before,

So now of what thou know’st not, who desir’st 4, Eve assumes the posture of the classical suppliant, clasping the knees of the one she begs from.

5. Eve also echoes the Son’s offer (3.236—41). Cf. Adam's cry (10.832—34).

1690

|

JOHN

MILTON

The punishment all on thyself; alas! Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain

His full wrath whose thou feel’st as yet least part, And my displeasure bear’st so ill.° If prayers Could alter high decrees, | to that place Would speed before thee, and be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited, Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiv’n, To me committed and by me exposed. But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive 960

In offices of love, how we may light’n Each other’s burden in our share of woe;

Since this day’s death denounced, if aught I see, Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil, A long day’s dying to augment our pain, 965

And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived.”° To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied:

“Adam, by sad experiment I know How little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous, thence by just event® 970

passed on

consequence

Found so unfortunate; nevertheless,

Restored by thee, vile as | am, to place Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart Living or dying, from thee I will not hide What thoughts in my unquiet breast are ris’n, Tending to some relief of our extremes, Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable, As in our evils, and of easier choice.

If care of our descent perplex us most,’ 980

Which must be born to certain woe, devoured By Death at last, and miserable it is

To be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring 985

Into this curséd world a woeful race, That after wretched life must be at last Food for so foul a monster, in thy power It lies, yet ere conception to prevent

The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. Childess thou art, childless remain; so Death 990

Shall be deceived? his glut, and with us two Be forced to satisfy his rav’nous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult,

cheated of

Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain 995)

From love’s due rites, nuptial embraces sweet, And with desire to languish without hope, Before the present object® languishing 6. L.e., you could hardly bear God’s “full wrath” since you are so distraught when you feel only the smallest part of it, and you can “ill” bear my displeasure.

7. L.e., if concern for our descendants most torment (“perplex”) us. 8. Le., Eve herself, who then projects her own frustrated desire if they were to forgo sex.

PARADISE

1000

1005

1010

1015

1020

With like desire, which would be misery And torment less than none of what we dread, Then both ourselves and seed at once to free From what we fear for both, let us make short,° Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves; Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.” She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts Had entertained, as dyed her cheeks with pale. But Adam with such counsel nothing swayed, To better hopes his more attentive mind Laboring had raised, and thus to Eve replied. “Eve thy contempt of life and pleasure seems To argue in thee something more sublime And excellent than what thy mind contemns;° But self-destruction therefore sought, refutes That excellence thought in thee, and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret For loss of life and pleasure overloved.

EOS)

BOOK

WO

|

1691

lose no time

despises

Or if thou covet death, as utmost end

Of misery, so thinking to evade The penalty pronounced, doubt not but God Hath wiselier armed his vengeful ire than so To be forestalled; much more I fear lest death 1025

1030

1035

So snatched will not exempt us from the pain We are by doom to pay: rather such acts Of contumacy? will provoke the Highest To make death in us live. Then let us seek Some safer resolution, which methinks I have in view, calling to mind with heed Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise The serpent’s head; piteous amends, unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe Satan, who in the serpent hath contrived Against us this deceit: to crush his head

contempt

Would be revenge indeed; which will be lost

1040

1045

By death brought on ourselves, or childless days Resolved, as thou proposest; so our foe Shall scape his punishment ordained, and we Instead shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mentioned then of violence Against ourselves, and willful barrenness, That cuts us off from hope, and savors only Rancor and pride, impatience and despite, Reluctance? against God and his just yoke Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild And gracious temper he both heard and judged Without wrath or reviling; we expected

resistance

1692

1050

1055

|

JOHN

MILTON

Immediate dissolution, which we thought Was meant by death that day, when lo, to thee Pains only in childbearing were foretold, And bringing forth, soon recompensed with joy, Fruit of thy womb:? on me the curse aslope Glanced on the ground,' with labor I must earn My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse;

My labor will sustain me; and lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath unbesought provided, and his hands Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged; 1060

How much more, if we pray him, will his ear

Be open, and his heart to pity incline, And teach us further by what means to shun Th’ inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow,

Which now the sky with various face begins 1065

To show us in this mountain, while the winds

Blow moist and keen, shattering® the graceful locks Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek Some better shroud,° some better warmth to cherish Our limbs benumbed, ere this diurnal star® 1070

scattering

shelter the sun

Leave cold the night, how we his gathered beams Reflected, may with matter sere® foment,

dry

Or by collision of two bodies grind The air attrite to fire,’ as late the clouds 1075

Justling or pushed with winds rude in their shock Tine® the slant lightning, whose thwart° flame driv’n down Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine,

ignite / slanting

And sends a comfortable heat from far,

1080

1085

Which might supply° the sun: such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cure To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought, He will instruct us praying, and of grace Beseeching him, so as we need not fear To pass commodiously this life, sustained By him with many comforts, till we end

take the place of

In dust, our final rest and native home.

What better can we do, than to the place Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall Before him reverent, and there confess 1090

Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air Frequenting,’ sent from hearts contrite, in sign

Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek. Undoubtedly he will relent and turn

filling

From his displeasure; in whose look serene, 1095

When angry most he seemed and most severe, 9. Adam's prophetic echo of Elizabeth’s address to

Mary,

“blessed

mother

of Jesus

(Luke

1.41—42),

is the fruit of thy womb,”

ground for their fuller understanding promise about the “seed” of the woman.

lays the

of the

1. I.e., the curse, like a spear that almost missed

its target, glanced aside and hit the ground. 2. Adam projects the invention of fire: they might, by striking two bodies together, rub (“attrite”) the air into fire by friction; or else (lines 1070-71) focus reflected sunbeams (through

some equivalent of glass) on dry (“sere”) matter.

PARADISE

1100

LOST,

BOOK

11

|

1693

What else but favor, grace, and mercy shone?” So spake our father penitent, nor Eve Felt less remorse: they forthwith to the place Repairing where he judged them prostrate fell Before him reverent, and both confessed Humbly their faults, and pardon begged, with tears Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign

Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek.?

Book 11 The Argument The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise; sends Michael with a band of Cherubim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael’s coming down.

Adam

shows

to Eve certain

ominous

signs; he discerns

Michael’s

approach, goes out to meet him: the angel denounces their departure. Eve’s lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: the angel leads him up to a high hill, sets before him in vision what shall happen till the Flood. Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood! Praying, for from the mercy-seat above Prevenient grace* descending had removed The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breathed Unutterable, which the spirit of prayer Inspired, and winged for Heav’n with speedier flight Than loudest oratory: yet their port Not of mean suitors, nor important less

Seemed their petition, than when th’ ancient pair In fables old, less ancient yet than these,

Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha to restore The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine

Of Themis stood devout.’ To Heav’n their prayers Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond or frustrate:* in they passed Dimensionless through heav’nly doors; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fumed,

By their great Intercessor, came in sight 3. The final six lines repeat, almost word for word, lines 1086-92, as the poet describes Adam’s proposed gesture of repentance carried out in every detail. 1. “Stood” may mean

prostrating standing

themselves

upright;

“Not of mean

“remained,” or that, after

(10.1099)

they prayed

their demeanor

(“port”) was

suitors” (11.8—9), and they had

stood to pray before (4.720).

2. Grace given before the human will can turn

from sin, enabling it to do so. 3. In Greek myth, when Deucalion and his wife Pyrrha (like Noah’s family) alone survived a uni-

versal flood, they sought direction from Themis, goddess ofjustice; she told them to throw stones behind them, which became men and women. 4. L.e., their prayers were not scattered (“blown

vagabond”) by spiteful (“envious”) winds, or prevented

(“frustrate”)

from

reaching

their goal.

“Dimensionless”: without physical extension.

1694

|

JOHN

MILTON

Before the Father’s throne: them the glad°® Son

pleased

Presenting, thus to intercede began:

iS) Ww

“See Father, what firstfruits on earth are sprung From thy implanted grace in man, these sighs And prayers, which in this golden censer, mixed With incense, I thy priest before thee bring, Fruits of more pleasing savor from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, than those

30

40

Which his own hand manuring? all the trees Of Paradise could have produced, ere fall’n From innocence. Now therefore bend thine ear To supplication, hear his sighs though mute; Unskillful with what words to pray, let me Interpret for him, me his advocate And propitiation, all his works on me Good or not good ingraft,’ my merit those Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay. Accept me, and in me from these receive The smell of peace toward mankind, let him live Before thee reconciled, at least his days

cultivating

Numbered, though sad, till death, his doom (which I

To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse) To better life shall yield him, where with me All my redeemed may dwell in joy and bliss, Made one with me as I with thee am one.” To whom the Father, without cloud, serene:

“All thy request for man, accepted Son, Obtain, all thy request was my decree: But longer in that Paradise to dwell, The law I gave to nature him forbids: Those pure immortal elements that know No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul,

vi wi)

60

Eject him tainted now, and purge him off As a distemper, gross to air as gross, And mortal food,° as may dispose him best For dissolution® wrought by sin, that first Distempered all things, and of incorrupt Corrupted. I at first with two fair gifts Created him endowed, with happiness And immortality: that fondly° lost,

death

foolishly

This other served but to eternize woe;

Till I provided death; so death becomes His final remedy, and after life Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined By faith and faithful works, to second life,

Waked in the renovation’ of the just, 5. The theological term for Christ’s standing in

the place of humankind, taking onto himself all their deeds, perfecting the good by his merit, and, by his death, “paying” (see next line) the debt due God's justice for their evil deeds. 6. The pure elements of the Garden of Eden will

themselves “purge” Adam and Eve as an impurity or disorder (“distemper”), ejecting them to a place where the air and food are more gross, like themselves.

7. The resurrection and renewal soul on the Last Day.

of body and

PARADISE

85

LOST,

BOOK

11

|

Resigns him up with Heav’n and earth renewed. But let us call to synod? all the blest Through Heav'n’s wide bounds; from them I will not hide My judgments, how with mankind I proceed, As how with peccant® angels late they saw; And in their state, though firm, stood more confirmed.” He ended, and the Son gave signal high To the bright minister that watched, he blew His trumpet, heard in Oreb® since perhaps When God descended, and perhaps once more To sound at general doom. Th’ angelic blast Filled all the regions: from their blissful bow’rs Of amarantine® shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where’er they sat In fellowships ofjoy, the sons of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high, And took their seats; till from his throne supreme Th’ Almighty thus pronounced his sov’reign will: “O sons, like one of us man is become To know both good and evil, since his taste

assembly

sinning

unfading

Of that defended? fruit; but let him boast His knowledge of good lost, and evil got, Happier, had it sufficed him to have known Good by itself, and evil not at all. 90

forbidden

He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite,

My motions° in him; longer than they move, His heart I know, how variable and vain Self-left.? Lest therefore his now bolder hand Reach also of the Tree of Life, and eat, 25

1695

promptings

And live forever, dream at least to live Forever,! to remove him I decree,

And send him from the garden forth to till The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil. “Michael, this my behest have thou in charge, 100

Take to thee from among the Cherubim Thy choice of flaming warriors, lest the Fiend Or? in behalf of man, or to invade Vacant possession some new trouble raise:

either

Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God 105

110

Without remorse? drive out the sinful pair, From hallowed ground th’ unholy, and denounce To them and to their progeny from thence

Perpetual banishment. Yet lest they faint® At the sad sentence rigorously urged, For I behold them softened and with tears Bewailing their excess,° all terror hide.

8. Where

God

delivered

the Ten

Command-

ments to the sound of a trumpet (Exodus

pity

lose courage violation of law

“variable and vain.”

19.19);

1. Milton adds the phrase “dream at least to live

it will sound again at the Last Judgment (“general doom,” line 76).

forever” to suggest that parts of God's speech (especially lines 84—85 and 93-95, closely

9. Left to itself, without my continual prompt-

quoted from Genesis 3.22) are ironic.

ings (“motions,” line 91), I know his heart to be

1696

|

JOHN

MILTON

If patiently thy bidding they obey, Dismiss them not disconsolate; reveal

To Adam what shall come in future days, As I shall thee enlighten,” intermix My cov’nant in the woman’s seed renewed; So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace: And on the east side of the garden place, Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, 120

125

Cherubic watch, and of a sword the flame

Wide-waving, all approach far off to fright, And guard all passage to the Tree of Life: Lest Paradise a receptacle prove To spirits foul, and all my trees their prey, With whose stol’n fruit man once more to delude.” He ceased; and th’ archangelic power prepared For swift descent, with him the cohort bright Of watchful Cherubim; four faces each*

130

Had, like a double Janus, all their shape Spangled with eyes more numerous than those Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drowse, Charmed with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile To resalute the world with sacred light Leucothea’ waked, and with fresh dews embalmed The earth, when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found

140

145

150

Strength added from above, new hope to spring Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet linked; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renewed: “Eve, easily may faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heav’n descends; But that from us aught should ascend to Heav’n So prevalent? as to concern the mind

influential

Of God high-blest, or to incline his will,

Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer, Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne Ev'n to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer th’ offended Deity to appease, Kneeled and before him humbled all my heart, Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew That I was heard with favor; peace returned

Home to my breast, and to my memory 2. God, it seems, has to “enlighten” Michael with knowledge of humankind’s future at the same time Michael presents that future to Adam (cf. 12.128); Michael is told to “intermix” in his

account God’s “cov’nant in the woman’s seed” (lines 115-16), the “mysterious” promise of the redeemer hinted when the Son pronounced judgment on the serpent (10.179—81).

3. Cf. Genesis 3.24: “he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way

of the tree of life.” 4. Ezekiel 1.6 Janus (line 129), the Roman god of doorways, had two faces; in one version he

had four, corresponding to the four seasons and the four quarters of the earth. Argus (line 131),

a giant with one hundred eyes, was set by Juno to watch Jove’s mistress

lo, but Hermes

(Mer-

cury) put all of his eyes to sleep with his music (“pipe”) and his sleep-producing caduceus (“opiate rod”),

5. Roman goddess of the dawn.

PARADISE

155

LOST

BOOK

Ii

|

1697

His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe; Which then not minded in dismay, yet now

160

165

Assures me that the bitterness of death Is past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee, Eve rightly called, mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living, since by thee Man is to live, and all things live for man.”° To whom thus Eve with sad demeanor meek: “Ill-worthy I such title should belong To me transgressor, who for thee ordained A help, became thy snare; to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise: But infinite in pardon was my Judge, That I who first brought death on all, am graced The source of life; next favorable thou,

170

175

Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsaf’st, Far other name deserving. But the field To labor calls us now with sweat imposed, Though after sleepless night; for see the morn, All unconcerned with our unrest, begins Her rosy progress smiling; let us forth, I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Where’er our day’s work lies, though now enjoined Laborious, till day droop; while here we dwell,

What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? 180

185

Here let us live, though in fall’n state, content.” So spake, so wished much-humbled Eve, but fate

Subscribed not; nature first gave signs,° impressed On bird, beast, air, air suddenly eclipsed° After short blush of morn; nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stooped from his airy tow’r,’ Two birds of gayest plume before him drove: Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods,* First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace,°

omens darkened

pair

Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; 190

195

Direct to th’ eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observed, and with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmoved to Eve thus spake: “O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven by these mute signs in nature shows Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn Us haply too secure® of our discharge From penalty, because from death released

overconfident

Some days; how long, and what till then our life, Who knows, or more than this, that we are dust, 200

And thither must return and be no more. Why else this double object in our sight Of flight pursued in th’ air and o’er the ground 6. The name Eve is cognate with the Hebrew word meaning “life.” In Genesis 3.20 Adam

affirms that that name is right. 7. The eagle swooped (“stooped”) from his soar-

names his wife Eve only after the Fall; Milton's

ing flight (“tow’r”).

Adam

8. The lion.

has named

her before

(4.481)

and

now

1698

205

|

JOHN

MILTON

One way the selfsame hour? Why in the east Darkness ere day’s mid-course, and morning light More orient? in yon western cloud that draws

bright

O’er the blue firmament a radiant white,

And slow descends, with something heav’nly fraught.”° He erred not, for by this°® the heav’nly bands Down from a sky ofjasper lighted° now 210

215

In Paradise, and on a hill made alt,°

laden by this time alighted, shone halt

A glorious apparition, had not doubt And carnal fear that day dimmed Adam’s eye. Not that more glorious, when the angels met Jacob in Mahanaim,’ where he saw The field pavilioned with his guardians bright; Nor that which on the flaming mount appeared In Dothan, covered with a camp of fire,

Against the Syrian king, who to surprise One man, assassin-like had levied war,

220

223

War unproclaimed.' The princely hierarch? In their bright stand, there left his powers to seize Possession of the garden; he alone, To find where Adam sheltered, took his way, Not unperceived of Adam, who to Eve, While the great visitant approached, thus spake: “Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon determine,’ or impose

230

make an end

New laws to be observed; for I descry From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill One of the heav’nly host, and by his gait None of the meanest, some great potentate

Or of the Thrones above, such majesty Invests him coming; yet not terrible, iw}ws vil

That I should fear, nor sociably mild, As Raphael, that I should much confide, But solemn and sublime, whom not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire.” He ended; and th’ Archangel soon drew nigh,

Not in his shape celestial, but as man 240

245

Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms

A military vest of purple flowed Livelier than Meliboean, or the grain Of Sarra,* worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce; Iris* had dipped the woof, His starry helm unbuckled showed him prime In manhood where youth ended; by his side As in a glistering zodiac® hung the sword,

belt

Satan’s dire dread, and in his hand the spear. 9. Jacob gave that name, meaning “armies” or “camps” (“field pavilioned,” line 215), to a place where he saw an army of angels (Genesis 32.2). 1. The Syrian king levied war against “Dothan” (line 217) in order to capture Elisha the prophet (One man,” line 219), but the Lord saved Elisha by sending “horses and chariots of fire”

(2 Kings 6.8ff.). 2. Michael, who left his angelic forces (“powers”) in their formation (“stand”) to take possession of the garden (lines 221-22). 3. Both Meliboea and Tyre (“Sarra”) in Thessaly were famous for purple dye. 4. Goddess of the rainbow.

PARADISE

250

260

265

LOST,

Adam bowed low, he kingly from his state° Inclined not, but his coming thus declared: “Adam, Heav’n's high behest no preface needs: Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transeress, Defeated® of his seizure® many days Giv’n thee of grace, wherein thou may’st repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done May’st cover: well may then thy Lord appeased Redeem thee quite from Death’s rapacious claim; But longer in this Paradise to dwell

BOOK

11

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1699

stately bearing

cheated / possession

Permits not; to remove thee I am come,

And send thee from the garden forth to till The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil.” He added not, for Adam at the news Heart-strook with chilling gripe® of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discovered? soon the place of her retire: “O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death! Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave Thee native soil,’ these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite® of that day

spasm

revealed

delay

That must be mortal to us both. O flow’rs,

That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At evn which I bred up with tender hand From the first op’ning bud, and gave ye names,° Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes,° and water from th’ ambrosial° fount?

Thee lastly nuptial bower, by me adorned

species /fragrant

With what to sight or smell was sweet; from thee How shall I part, and whither wander down

Into a lower world, to° this obscure

compared to

And wild, how shall we breathe in other air 285

Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits?” Whom thus the angel interrupted mild: “Lament not Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart, Thus overfond, on that which is not thine;

290

Thy going is not lonely, with thee goes Thy husband, him to follow thou art bound;

Where he abides, think there thy native soil.” Adam by this from the cold sudden damp° Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, 295

dejection

To Michael thus his humble words addressed: “Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named 5. Unlike Adam, Eve was created in the Paradise of Eden. 6. Departing from Genesis 2.19—20, in which

Adam alone gives names, Milton has Eve name

the flowers, an action that signifies (like Adam's

naming of the beasts, 8.352—54) intuitive knowledge oftheir nature.

1700

300

305

310

315

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JOHN

MILTON

Of them the highest, for such of shape may seem Prince above princes, gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow and dejection and despair Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes, all places else Inhospitable appear and desolate, Nor knowing us nor known: and if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of him who all things can,° I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: Therefore to his great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me, that departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, deprived

knows, can do

His blessed count’nance; here | could frequent,

With worship, place by place where he vouchsafed Presence Divine, and to my sons relate: ‘On this mount he appeared, under this tree Stood visible, among these pines his voice I heard, here with him at this fountain talked:’

So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone 325

Of luster from the brook, in memory,

330

Or monument to ages, and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums and fruits and flow’rs: In yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or footstep trace? For though I fled him angry, yet recalled To life prolonged and promised race,’ I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory, and far off his steps adore.” To whom thus Michael with regard benign:

335

“Adam, thou know’st Heav’n his, and all the earth

Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills

Pe

Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives,

340

345

Fomented? by his virtual° power and warmed: All th’ earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift; surmise not then His presence to these narrow bounds confined Of Paradise or Eden: this had been Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread All generations, and had hither come

nurtured / potent

From all the ends of th’ earth, to celebrate 7. His descendants, from whom will spring the “promised Seed.” See 10.180—81 and n. 1, and 12.623.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

11

|

1701

And reverence thee their great progenitor. But this preeminence thou hast lost, brought down To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: Yet doubt not but in valley and in plain 350

God is as here, and will be found alike

Present, and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine.

Which that thou may’st believe, and be confirmed,

360

Ere thou from hence depart, know I am sent To show thee what shall come in future days To thee and to thy offspring,® good with bad Expect to hear, supernal® grace contending With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear And pious sorrow, equally inured° By moderation either state to bare, Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepared endure Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend

heavenly

tempered

This hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes)”

Here sleep below while thou to foresight wak’st, As once thou slept’st while she to life was formed.” To whom thus Adam gratefully replied: “Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path Thou lead’st me, and to the hand of Heav’n submit, However chast’ning, to the evil turn My obvious? breast, arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labor won,

If so I may attain.” So both ascend In the visions of God: it was a hill Of Paradise the highest, from whose top The hemisphere of earth in clearest ken® Stretched out to amplest reach of prospect lay. Not higher that hill nor wider looking round, Whereon for different cause the Tempter set

exposed

view

Our second Adam in the wilderness, 385

To show him all earth’s kingdoms and their glory.' His eye might there command wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, And Samarkand by Oxus, Temir’s throne,

390

To Paquin of Sinaean kings, and thence To Agra and Lahore of Great Mogul 8. Prophetic visions are a common feature in epic, e.g., Aeneas’s vision of his descendants culminating in the Roman Empire (Virgil, Aeneid 6.754-854).

Milton’s “brief epic” Paradise Regained), he took him up to “an exceeding high mountain” and showed him “all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them” (Matthew 4.8). The passage

9. Put a soporific liquid (“drench”) in her eyes.

that follows details the places “he” (Christ and/or

1. When

Adam) might see (lines 386—411).

Satan tempted

Christ (the subject of

1702

|

JOHN

MILTON

Down to the golden Chersonese,”* or where The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since

In Hispahan, or where the Russian czar 395

In Moscow, or the sultan in Bizance,

Turkéstan-born;? nor could his eye not ken® Th’ empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco and the less maritime kings

view

Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, 400

405

And Sofala thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south;* Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, Morocco and Algiers, and Tremisen;° On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico the seat of Motezume, And Cuzco in Peru, the richer seat

410

Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoiled Guiana, whose great city Geryon’s sons Call El Dorado:° but to nobler sights Michael from Adam’s eyes the film removed Which that false fruit that promised clearer sight Had bred; then purged with euphrasy and rue’ The visual nerve, for he had much to see;

420

And from the well of life three drops instilled. So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, Ev’n to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam now enforced to close his eyes, Sunk down and all his spirits became entranced: But him the gentle angel by the hand Soon raised, and his attention thus recalled: “Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold

425

Th’ effects which thy original crime hath wrought In some to spring from thee, who never touched 2. His first views are of “destined” (yet to come)

great kingdoms in Asia: “Cambalu,” capital of “Cathay,” the region of North China ruled by such khans as Genghis and Kublai; “Samarkand,” ruled by Tamburlaine (“Temir”), near the “Oxus”

river near modern Uzbekistan; Beijing (“Paquin,” Peking), ruled by Chinese (“Sinaean”) kings; “Agra” and “Lahore,” capitals in northern India ruled by the “Great Mogul”; “golden Chersonese,”

an area sometimes identified with the Malay Peninsula. 3. Next, Persian and Turkish kingdoms. From Persia (Iran): Ecbatana (“Ecbatan”), a summer

residence of Persian kings, and the 16th-century Persian capital Isfahan (“Hispahan’”); and Byzantium (“Bizance,”’ Constantinople, Istanbul), capi-

Temple (1 Kings 9.28); and “Congo” and “Angola” on the west coast. 5. In North Africa: the kingdoms of “Almansor” (the name shared by various Muslim rulers, here

referring probably to Abu-Amir al Ma-Ma’afiri, caliph of Cordova) reached from the “Niger” River in northern Morocco to the “Atlas” Mountains in Algeria, taking in Morocco (and its capital, “Fez”), Tunis (“Sus”), and called Tiemecen (“Tremisen”).

part of Algeria

6. Because they lay on the other side of the spherical earth, Christ and/or Adam could only see places in the New World “in spirit” (line 406): Mexico, the seat of Montezuma (“Motezume”), the last Aztec

emperor; “Cuzco in Peru,” seat of Atahualpa (“Atabalipa”), the last Incan emperor (murdered by

tal of the Ottomon Empire after falling to the Turks in 1453. 4. From Africa: Abyssinia (empire of King “Negus”); Arkiko (“Ercoco”) in Ethiopia, a Red

Pizarro); and “Guiana”

Sea port; Mombasa (“Mombaza”) and Malindi (“Melind”) in Kenya; Kilwa (“Quiloa”) in Tanzania; “Sofala,” sometimes identified with the bibli-

Spenser an allegory of the great power and oppression of Spain), though they identified its chief city, Manoa, with the fabled city of gold, “El Dorado.” 7. Both herbs were thought to sharpen eyesight.

cal “Ophir” from which Solomon took gold for his

(a region including Suri-

nam, Guyana, and parts of Venezuela and Brazil). Unlike Mexico and Peru it was “yet unspoiled” by the Spaniards (sons ofthe evil monster “Geryon,” in

PARADISE

430

435

440

LOST,

BOOK

Th’ excepted? tree, nor with the snake conspired, Nor sinned thy sin, yet from that sin derive Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds.” His eyes he opened, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth,? whereon were sheaves New-reaped, the other part sheep-walks and folds; I’ th’ midst an altar as the landmark® stood Rustic, of grassy sord;° thither anon A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought Firstfruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, Unculled,° as came to hand; a shepherd next More meek came with the firstlings of his flock Choicest and best; then sacrificing, laid The inwards and their fat, with incense strewed, On the cleft wood, and all due rites performed. His off’ring soon propitious fire from Heav’n Consumed with nimble glance, and grateful steam;

11

|

1703

forbidden

cultivated boundary marker turf

picked at random

The other's not, for his was not sincere;8 445

450

Whereat he inly raged, and as they talked, Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life; he fell, and deadly pale Groaned out his soul with gushing blood effused. Much at that sight was Adam in his heart Dismayed, and thus in haste to th’ angel cried: “O teacher, some great mischief hath befall’n To that meek man, who well had sacrificed;

Is piety thus and pure devotion paid?” T’ whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied: “These two are brethren, Adam, and to come

Out of thy loins;? th’ unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother’s offering found From Heav’n acceptance; but the bloody fact° Will be avenged, and th’ other’s faith approved

crime

Lose no reward, though here thou see him die, 460

Rolling in dust and gore.” To which our sire: “Alas, both for the deed and for the cause! But have I now seen death? Is this the way I must return to native dust? O sight Of terror, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!”

To whom thus Michaél: “Death thou hast seen In his first shape on man; but many shapes Of Death, and many are the ways that lead To his grim cave, all dismal; yet to sense 470

More terrible at th’ entrance than within. Some, as thou saw’st, by violent stroke shall die,

By fire, flood, famine; by intemperance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew 8. Milton’s version of the Cain and Abel story

9. Adam

(Genesis

sons, not simply descendants.

4.1-16)

provides

a clear

God’s rejection of Cain’s sacrifice.

reason

for

has to be told that these are his own

1704

475

480

|

JOHN

MILTON

Before thee shall appear; that thou may’st know What misery th’ inabstinence of Eve Shall bring on men.” Immediately a place! Before his eyes appeared, sad,° noisome, dark,

lamentable

A lazar-house it seemed, wherein were laid Numbers of all diseased, all maladies

Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heartsick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, 485

490

495

Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy And moonstruck madness,’ pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence,” Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. Dire was the tossing, deep the groans, Despair Tended the sick busiest from couch to couch; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight so deform what heart of rock could long Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born; compassion quelled His best of man,° and gave him up to tears

lunacy

manliness, courage

A space, till firmer thoughts restrained excess,

And scarce recovering words his plaint renewed: 500

505

510

515

520

“O miserable mankind, to what fall

Degraded, to what wretched state reserved! Better end here unborn. Why is life giv’n To be thus wrested from us? Rather why Obtruded on us thus? who if we knew What we receive, would either not accept Life offered, or soon beg to lay it down, Glad to be so dismissed in peace. Can thus Th’ image of God in man created once So goodly and erect, though faulty since, To such unsightly sufferings be debased Under inhuman pains? Why should not man, Retaining still divine similitude In part, from such deformities be free, And for his Maker’s image sake exempt?” “Their Maker’s image,” answered Michael, “then Forsook them, when themselves they vilified® To serve ungoverned appetite, and took® His image whom they served, a brutish vice, Inductive® mainly to° the sin of Eve. Therefore so abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God’s likeness, but their own, Or if his likeness, by themselves defaced While they pervert pure nature’s healthful rules 1. This is the only nonbiblical sight shown to Adam, a “lazar-house” (line 479)—a hospital for leprosy and infectious diseases, especially

debased

took away produced /from

syphilis. 2. The plague. “Marasmus ”: a wasting disease of the body.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

To loathsome sickness, worthily,° since they God’s image did not reverence in themselves.” “I yield it just,” said Adam, “and submit. But is there yet no other way, besides These painful passages, how we may come

11

|

1705

deservedly

To death, and mix with our connatural dust?” “There is,” said Michael, “if thou well observe

The rule of not too much, by temperance taught In what thou eat’st and drink’st, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight,

535

Till many years over thy head return: So may’st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother’s? lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature:

540

545

This is old age; but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered weak and gray; thy senses then Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgo, To what thou hast, and for the air of youth Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp? of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm’ of life.” To whom our ancestor: “Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong Life much, bent rather how I may be quit Fairest and easiest of this cumbrous charge, Which I must keep till my appointed day Of rend’ring up, and patiently attend° My dissolution.” Michaél replied: “Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv’st Live well, how long or short permit to Heav’n: And now prepare thee for another sight.” He looked and saw a spacious plain,* whereon Were tents of various hue; by some were herds Of cattle grazing: others, whence the sound Of instruments that made melodious chime

560

Was heard, of harp and organ; and who moved

565

Their stops and chords was seen: his volant touch Instinct through all proportions low and high Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue.’ In other part stood one® who at the forge Laboring, two massy clods of iron and brass

depression of spirits preservative essence

Had melted (whether found where casual? fire Had wasted woods on mountain or in vale,

await

accidental

Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot To some cave’s mouth, or whether washed by stream From underground) the liquid ore he drained 3. “Mother” earth. 4. Adam’s third vision is based on Genesis 4.19—

and organ.” “Volant”: nimble; “instinct”: instinetive; “proportions”: ratios of pitches; “fugue”: musical form in which one statement of the

22; “tents” (next line) identifies these as the descendants of Cain, described as “such as dwell in tents.”

theme seems to chase another.

5. Genesis 4.21 describes Cain’s descendant Jubal as “father of all such as handle the harp

6. Tubal-cain, “instructor of every artificer in brass and iron” (Genesis 4.22).

1706

|

JOHN

MILTON

Into fit molds prepared; from which he formed First his own tools; then, what might else be wrought

Fusile® or grav’n in metal. After these,

cast

But on the hither side a different sort’

580

From the high neighboring hills, which was their seat, Down to the plain descended: by their guise Just men they seemed, and all their study bent To worship God aright, and know his works Not hid,® nor those things last which might preserve Freedom and peace to men: they on the plain Long had not walked, when from the tents behold A bevy of fair women, richly gay In gems and wanton dress; to the harp they sung Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on:

585

The men though grave, eyed them, and let their eyes Rove without rein, till in the amorous net

590

Fast caught, they liked, and each his liking chose; And now of love they treat till th’ evening star? Love’s harbinger appeared; then all in heat They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke

595

With feast and music all the tents resound. Such happy interview and fair event? Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flow’rs, And charming symphonies attached® the heart

Hymen,! then first to marriage rites invoked;

Of Adam, soon? inclined to admit delight, The bent of nature; which he thus expressed:

600

outcome

seized easily

“True opener of mine eyes, prime angel blest, Much better seems this vision, and more hope Of peaceful days portends, than those two past; Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse,

Here nature seems fulfilled in all her ends.” To whom thus Michael: “Judge not what is best By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet,° 605

appropriate

Created, as thou art, to nobler end

Holy and pure, conformity divine. Those tents thou saw’st so pleasant, were the tents Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race Who slew his brother; studious they appear 610

Of arts that polish life, inventors rare,

Unmindful of their Maker, though his spirit Taught them, but they his gifts acknowledged none. Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget; For that fair female troop thou saw’st, that seemed 615

Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay,

Yet empty of all good wherein consists Woman’s domestic honor and chief praise; Bred only and completed? to the taste 7. The descendants of Seth, Adam’s third son (Genesis 5.3); “hither side”: away from the “east” (Genesis 4.16), where Cain’s sons lived. 8. They studied God’s visible works, not the

“matters

accomplished hid” that Raphael

against. 9. Venus.

1. God of marriage.

had warned Adam

RARADIESE

620

Osi

BOOK

11

|

Of lustful appetence,° to sing, to dance, To dress, and troll° the tongue, and roll the eye.

1707

desire move

To these that sober race of men, whose lives

Religious titled them the sons of God, Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame Ignobly, to the trains® and to the smiles

625

630

640

wiles, snares

Of these fair atheists, and now swim in joy, (Erelong to swim at large) and laugh; for which The world erelong a world of tears must weep.” To whom thus Adam of short joy bereft: “O pity and shame, that they who to live well Entered so fair, should turn aside to tread

Paths indirect, or in the mid-way faint! But still | see the tenor of man’s woe Holds on the same, from woman to begin.” “From man’s effeminate slackness it begins,” Said th’ angel, “who should better hold his place By wisdom, and superior gifts received. But now prepare thee for another scene.” He looked and saw wide territory spread Before him, towns, and rural works between, Cities of men with lofty gates and tow’rs, Concourse? in arms, fierce faces threat’ning war, Giants* of mighty bone, and bold emprise;°

encounters

chivalric adventure

Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, 645

Single or in array of battle ranged° Both horse and foot, nor idly must’ring stood; One way a band select from forage drives

drawn up in ranks

A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock,

Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain, Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly, But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray; With cruel tournament the squadrons join; Where cattle pastured late, now scattered lies 655

660

With carcasses and arms th’ ensanguined’ field Deserted: others to a city strong Lay siege, encamped; by battery, scale, and mine,* Assaulting; others from the wall defend With dart and jav’lin, stones and sulphurous fire; On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. In other part the sceptered heralds call To council in the city gates: anon Gray-headed men and grave, with warriors mixed, Assemble, and harangues are heard, but soon In factious opposition, till at last 2. Like

many

exegetes,

Milton

identifies

blood-stained

the

riages (identified at lines 683—84); Milton makes

“sons of God” as the descendants of Seth, and the “daughters of men” whom they wed (Genesis

them exemplify false heroism and false glory sought through military might and conquest

6.2) as the descendants of Cain.

(lines 689-99).

3. Adam’s fourth vision, based on Genesis 6.4, is

4. Le.,

of the “Giant” offspring of the previous mar-

under the walls.

by battering,

scaling,

and

tunneling

1708

|

JOHN

MILTON

Of middle age one’ rising, eminent In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong, Ofjustice, of religion, truth and peace,

Andjudgment from above: him old and young Exploded,° and had seized with violent hands,

mocked

Had not a cloud descending snatched him thence Unseen amid the throng: so violence Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. Adam was all in tears, and to his guide Lamenting turned full sad; “O what are these, Death’s ministers, not men, who thus deal death

Inhumanly to men, and multiply Ten-thousandfold the sin of him who slew His brother; for of whom such massacre 680

Make they but of their brethren, men of men? But who was that just man, whom had not Heav’n Rescued, had in his righteousness been lost?”

685

To whom thus Michael: “These are the product Of those ill-mated marriages thou saw’st: Where good with bad were matched, who of themselves Abhor to join; and by imprudence mixed, Produce prodigious births of body or mind. Such were these giants, men of high renown;

For in those days might only shall be admired, 690

And valor and heroic virtue called; To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite

695

Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory, and for glory done Of triumph, to be styled great conquerors, Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods, Destroyers rightlier called and plagues of men. Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth,

And what most merits fame in silence hid. 700

But he the sew’nth from thee,° whom thou beheld’st

The only righteous in a world perverse, And therefore hated, therefore so beset

With foes for daring single to be just, And utter odious truth, that God would come

To judge them with his saints: him the Most High Rapt in a balmy cloud with winged steeds Did, as thou saw’st, receive, to walk with God

710

High in salvation and the climes of bliss, Exempt from death; to show thee what reward Awaits the good, the rest what punishment; Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold.” 5. Enoch, who “walked with God: and he was not; for God took him” (Genesis 5.24); Milton elaborates on the story. 6. Here Enoch is more precisely identified by generation, but neither he nor the other biblical

personages in these pageants are named. Apparently, Michael and Adam together see the pageants, and Michael (by God’s illumination) can interpret them rightly, but neither of the two knows the names these persons will later bear.

PARADISE

715

LOS,

He looked, and saw the face of things quite changed; The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar, All now was turned to jollity and game, To luxury° and riot,° feast and dance, Marrying or prostituting, as befell, Rape or adultery, where passing fair® Allured them; thence from cups to civil broils.

sO OM

Ti

|

1709

lust / debauchery surpassing beauty

At length a reverend sire? among them came, And of their doings great dislike declared,

And testified against their ways; he oft Frequented their assemblies, whereso met, Triumphs or festivals, and to them preached Conversion and repentance, as to souls In prison under judgments imminent: But all in vain: which when he saw, he ceased

730

“SIWw wil

Contending, and removed his tents far off; Then from the mountain hewing timber tall, Began to build a vessel of huge bulk, Measured by cubit, length, and breadth, and height, Smeared round with pitch, and in the side a door Contrived, and of provisions laid in large For man and beast: when lo a wonder strange! Of every beast, and bird, and insect small Came sevens and pairs, and entered in, as taught

Their order: last the sire and his three sons With their four wives; and God made fast the door. Meanwhile the south wind rose, and with black wings Wide hovering, all the clouds together drove 740

From under heav’n; the hills to their supply° Vapor, and exhalation dusk° and moist,

assistance dark mist

Sent up amain;° and now the thickened sky Like a dark ceiling stood; down rushed the rain Impetuous, and continued till the earth No more was seen; the floating vessel swum Uplifted; and secure with beakéd prow Rode tilting o’er the waves, all dwellings else

with main force

Flood overwhelmed, and them with all their pomp Deep underwater rolled; sea covered sea, 750

Sea without shore;® and in their palaces Where luxury late reigned, sea monsters whelped And stabled; of mankind, so numerous late, All left, in one small bottom® swum embarked.

boat

How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold I

wnwi

The end of all thy offspring, end so sad,

Depopulation; thee another flood, Of tears and sorrow a flood thee also drowned, And sunk thee as thy sons; till gently reared By th’ angel, on thy feet thou stood’st at last, Though comfortless, as when a father mourns 7. Noah. Milton's account is based on Genesis G29; 8. The “sea without shore” and some other fea-

tures of this description are taken from Ovid's account of Deucalion’s Flood (Metamorphoses 1.292—300, Sandys translation).

1710

765

|

JOHN

MILTON

His children, all in view destroyed at once; And scarce to th’ angel utter’dst thus thy plaint: “O visions ill foreseen! Better had | Lived ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only, each day’s lot Enough to bear; those now, that were dispensed

The burd’n of many ages, on me light At once, by my foreknowledge’ gaining birth Abortive, to torment me ere their being, ~I I i=)

~I ~I vw

730

With thought that they must be. Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall Him or his children, evil he may be sure, Which neither his foreknowing can prevent, And he the future evil shall no less In apprehension than in substance feel Grievous to bear: but that care now is past, Man is not whom to warn:! those few escaped Famine and anguish will at last consume Wand ring that wat’ry desert: | had hope When violence was ceased, and war on earth,

All would have then gone well, peace would have crowned With length of happy days the race of man; But | was far deceived; for now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste.

785

How comes it thus? Unfold, celestial guide, And whether here the race of man will end.” To whom thus Michael: “Those whom last thou saw’st In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they

790

And great exploits, but of true virtue void;

First seen in acts of prowess eminent

Who having spilt much blood, and done much waste Subduing nations, and achieved thereby Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,

795

soo

so5

Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. The conquered also, and enslaved by war Shall with their freedom lost all virtue lose And fear of God, from whom their piety feigned In sharp contést of battle found no aid Against invaders; therefore cooled in zeal Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure, Worldly or dissolute, on what their lords Shall leave them to enjoy, for th’ earth shall bear More than enough, that temperance may be tried: So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved, Justice and temperance, truth and faith forgot;? 9. The term suggests that Adam is experiencing something akin to God’s foreknowledge, which the poem insists is not predestination. Adam knows what is to happen but can neither cause it nor prevent it.

1. Le., there is no man to warn, all will die. 2. This passage (lines 797-807) may also allude to the backsliding Puritans who betrayed the Commonwealth in 1660 and have now taken on the vices of the restored royalists.

PARADISE

810

815

LOST,

BOOK

One man except, the only son of light In a dark age, against example good, Against allurement, custom, and a world Offended;° fearless of reproach and scorn, Or violence, he of their wicked ways Shall them admonish, and before them set The paths of righteousness, how much more safe, And full of peace, denouncing? wrath to come

11

|

AUN

hostile

proclaiming

On their impenitence; and shall return

Of them derided, but of God observed The one just man alive; by his command Shall build a wondrous ark, as thou beheld’st,

825

830

835

840

850

855

To save himself and household from amidst A world devote® to universal wrack. No sooner he with them of man and beast Select for life shall in the ark be lodged, And sheltered round, but all the cataracts°® Of heav’n set open on the earth shall pour Rain day and night, all fountains of the deep Broke up, shall heave the ocean to usurp Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise Above the highest hills: then shall this mount Of Paradise by might of waves be moved Out of his place, pushed by the hornéd flood,? With all his verdure spoiled, and trees adrift Down the great river to the op’ning gulf,* And there take root an island salt and bare, The haunt of seals and ores,° and sea mews’? clang. To teach thee that God attributes to place No sanctity, if none be thither brought By men who there frequent, or therein dwell.

doomed

floodgates

sea monsters / seagulls

And now what further shall ensue, behold.” He looked, and saw the ark hull® on the flood, Which now abated, for the clouds were fled,

Driv’n by a keen north wind, that blowing dry Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decayed; And the clear sun on his wide wat’ry glass Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst, which made their flowing shrink From standing lake to tripping® ebb, that stole With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopped His sluices, as the heav’n his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground Fast on the top of some high mountain fixed.’ And now the tops of hills as rocks appear; With clamor thence the rapid currents drive Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him, the surer messenger, 3. Classical horned.

river gods were

often depicted as

drift

running

4. I.e., down the Euphrates to the Persian Gulf. 5. Mount Ararat (Genesis 8.4).

Lae

860

|

JOHN

MILTON

A dove sent forth once and again to spy Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light; The second time returning, in his bill An olive leaf he brings, pacific sign: Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark The ancient sire descends with all his train;

Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout, Grateful to Heav’n, over his head beholds 865

870

A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bow Conspicuous with three listed colors gay,° Betok’ning peace from God, and covenant new. Whereat the heart of Adam erst so sad Greatly rejoiced, and thus his joy broke forth: “O thou who future things canst represent As present, heav’nly instructor, I revive At this last sight, assured that man shall live With all the creatures, and their seed preserve.

Far less | now lament for one whole world Of wicked sons destroyed, than I rejoice

880

For one man found so perfect and so just, That God vouchsafes to raise another world From him, and all his anger to forget.’ But say, what mean those colored streaks in heav’n, Distended® as the brow of God appeased, Or serve they as a flow’ry verge to bind The fluid skirts of that same wat’ry cloud, Lest it again dissolve and show’r the earth?” To whom th’ Archangel: “Dextrously thou aim’st; So willingly doth God remit his ire, Though late repenting him of man depraved,

spread out

Grieved at his heart, when looking down he saw The whole earth filled with violence, and all flesh 890

Corrupting each their way; yet those removed, Such grace shall one just man find in his sight, That he relents, not to blot out mankind,

And makes a cov’nant® never to destroy The earth again by flood, nor let the sea Surpass his bounds, nor rain to drown the world 895

With man therein or beast; but when he brings Over the earth a cloud, will therein set

900

His triple-colored bow, whereon to look And call to mind his cov’nant: day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new, Both heav’n and earth, wherein the just shall dwell.”?

. The primary colors, red, yellow, and blue. The language invites recognition of Noah as a cael(foreshadowing) of Christ, the one “perfect” and “just” who will cause God to forget his anger 8. The language of covenant makes this promise—that God will not again destroy the

earth by flood—a type of the “covenant of grace” pees which God will save humankind. The. restoration of the orderly processes of nature after the Flood is identified as a type (foreshadowing) of the final renewal of all things after the final conflagration at the Last Judgment.

PARADISE

TOISie

sBiOOke

12

|

Hales

Book 12 The Arguments The angel Michael continues from the Flood to relate what shall succeed: then, in the mention of Abraham, comes by degrees to explain, who that Seed of the Woman

shall be, which was promised Adam and Eve in the Fall; his

incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension; the state of the church till his second coming. Adam greatly satisfied and recomforted by these relations and promises descends the hill with Michael; wakens Eve, who all this while had slept, but with gentle dreams composed to quietness of mind and submission. Michael in either hand leads them out of Paradise, the fiery sword waving behind them, and the Cherubim taking their stations to guard the place. As one who in his journey bates® at noon,

vi

stops for refreshment

Though bent on speed, so here the Archangel paused Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored, If Adam aught perhaps might interpose; Then with transition sweet new speech resumes:! “Thus thou hast seen one world begin and end;

10

And man as from a second stock proceed. Much thou hast yet to see, but I perceive Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine Must needs impair and weary human sense: Henceforth what is to come [ will relate,’ Thou therefore give due audience, and attend. This second source of men, while yet but few, And while the dread of judgment past remains Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity, With some regard to what is just and right Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace,

Laboring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop, Corn, wine, and oil; and from the herd or flock, Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid,

i) i

With large wine-offerings poured, and sacred feast, Shall spend their days in joy unblamed, and dwell Long time in peace by families and tribes Under paternal rule; till one’ shall rise Of proud ambitious heart, who not content With fair equality, fraternal state, Will arrogate dominion undeserved Over his brethren, and quite dispossess Concord and law of nature from the earth;

30

Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game) With war and hostile snare such as refuse Subjection to his empire tyrannous: A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled® 1. of 11 2.

The first five lines were added when Book 10 the 1667 edition was divided to make Books and 12 of the 1674 edition. Adam no longer sees visions or pageants, as

called

before, but simply listens to Michael’s narration. 3. Nimrod (Genesis 10,8—10) is described as the first king, in terms that equate kingship itself with tyranny (lines 25-29).

1714

|

JOHN

MILTON

Before the Lord, as in despite of Heav’n, Or from Heav’n claiming second sov’reignty;*

And from rebellion shall derive his name, Though of rebellion others he accuse. He with a crew, whom like ambition joins With him or under him to tyrannize, 40

Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find

45

The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge® Boils out from underground, the mouth of Hell; Of brick, and of that stuff they cast® to build A city and tow’r,’? whose top may reach to Heav’n; And get themselves a name, lest far dispersed In foreign lands their memory be lost, Regardless whether good or evil fame. But God who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks

50

533)

To mark their doings, them beholding soon, Comes down to see their city, ere the tower Obstruct Heav’n tow’rs, and in derision sets Upon their tongues a various® spirit to raze

whirlpool

set about

divisive

Quite out their native language, and instead To sow a jangling noise of words unknown: Forthwith a hideous gabble® rises loud Among the builders; each to other calls Not understood, till hoarse, and all in rage,

60

As mocked they storm; great laughter was in Heav’n And looking down, to see the hubbub strange And hear the din; thus was the building left Ridiculous, and the work Confusion’ named.” Whereto thus Adam fatherly displeased: “O execrable son so to aspire Above his brethren, to himself assuming Authority usurped, from God not giv’n: He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl Dominion absolute; that right we hold By his donation; but man over men

He made not lord; such title to himself Reserving, human left from human free.®

But this usurper his encroachment proud Stays not on man; to God his tower intends Siege and defiance: wretched man! What food Will he convey up thither to sustain Himself and his rash army, where thin air Above the clouds will pine® his entrails gross, 4. Milton offers two explanations of the biblical phrase “Before the Lord”: either he openly defied God (“despite”) or he claimed divine right (“second soy’reignty”) like the Stuart kings. Drawing on the (false) etymology linking the name Nimrod with the Hebrew word meaning “to rebel,” Milton implies that the paradox developed in the next two lines (that he accuses others of rebellion but is himself a rebel against God) extends to other kings, especially Charles I, who accused

waste away

his opponents in the civil war of rebellion. 5. Babylon is the city, Babel the tower. 6. Genesis 11.1—9 recounts the building of the Tower of Babel reaching to Heaven; God punished this presumption by confounding the builders’ original language into multiple languages. 7. “Confusion” was taken to be the meaning of “Babel.” 8. Adam states the assumption Milton often invokes to support republicanism.

PARADISE,

80

85

HOSd)

BO OK

And famish him of breath, if not of bread?” To whom thus Michael: “Justly thou abhorr’st That son, who on the quiet state of men Such trouble brought, affecting? to subdue Rational liberty; yet know withal, Since thy original lapse, true liberty Is lost, which always with right reason dwells Twinned, and from her hath no dividual? being:° Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed, Immediately inordinate desires And upstart passions catch the government

a2

|

ANS)

aspiring

separate

From reason, and to servitude reduce

90

25

Man till then free. Therefore since he permits Within himself unworthy powers to reign Over free reason, God in judgment just Subjects him from without to violent lords; Who oft as undeservedly enthrall His outward freedom: tyranny must be, Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse. Yet sometimes nations will decline so low From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong, But justice, and some fatal curse annexed

100

Deprives them of their outward liberty, Their inward lost: witness th’ irreverent son! Of him who built the ark, who for the shame

Done to his father, heard this heavy curse, 105

110

‘Servant of servants,’ on his vicious race.” Thus will this latter, as the former world, Still tend from bad to worse, till God at last Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw

His presence from among them, and avert His holy eyes; resolving from thenceforth To leave them to their own polluted ways; And one peculiar® nation to select

special

From all the rest, of whom to be invoked,

A nation from one faithful man? to spring: Him on this side Euphrates yet residing, Bred up in idol-worship; O that men (Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown, While yet the patriarch’ lived, who scaped the Flood, As to forsake the living God, and fall

To worship their own work in wood and stone 9. As Milton (following classical theorists) often did, and as Abdiel did earlier (6.178—81),

Michael links political to psychological servitude, and political liberty to inner freedom, i.e., the exercise of “right reason” and the control of passion. Loss of liberty is often (though not always) God’s just punishment for national decline (lines 81-100). The long passage alludes to the “baseness” of the English in restoring monarchy in 1660. 1. Ham, son of Noah, who looked on the nakedness of his father and brought down the curse

that his descendants would be “servant of servants” to their brethren (Genesis 9.22—25). 2. Tribe. “Race” did not then bear its modern

sense,

so Milton

is probably thinking of the

Canaanites (descendants of Ham’s son Canaan),

rather than black Africans;

blacks were,

how-

ever, classed among Ham’s descendants, and this biblical text was often used to justify slavery. 3. Abraham, whose name means “father of many

nations”; the passage is based on Genesis 11.27 to 25.10.

4. Noah, who lived for 350 years after the Flood.

1716

120

|

JOHN

MILTON

For gods! Yet him God the Most High vouchsafes To call by vision from his father’s house, His kindred and false gods, into a land Which he will show him, and from him will raise

A mighty nation, and upon him show’r 125

His benediction so, that in his seed

All nations shall be blest; he straight® obeys, Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes:

immediately

I see him, but thou canst not,’® with what faith 130

He leaves his gods, his friends, and native soil Ur° of Chaldaea, passing now the ford To Haran, after him a cumbrous train Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude;?

servants and slaves

Not wand’ring poor, but trusting all his wealth 135

With God, who called him, in a land unknown. Canaan he now attains, I see his tents

140

Pitched about Sechem, and the neighboring plain Of Moreh; there by promise he receives Gift to his progeny of all that land; From Hamath northward to the desert south (Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed) From Hermon east to the great western sea,’

Mount Hermon, yonder sea, each place behold In prospect, as I point them; on the shore 145

Mount Carmel; here the double-founted stream Jordan, true limit eastward; but his sons

150

Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills.* This ponder, that all nations of the earth Shall in his seed be blessed; by that Seed Is meant thy great Deliverer,’ who shall bruise The Serpent’s head; whereof to thee anon Plainlier shall be revealed. This patriarch blest, Whom ‘faithful Abraham’! due time shall call, A son, and of his son a grandchild leaves, Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown;

155

The grandchild with twelve sons increased, departs From Canaan, to a land hereafter called Egypt, divided by the river Nile;

See where it flows,” disgorging at seven mouths Into the sea: to sojourn in that land 5. Michael evidently continues to see the stories

he recounts as visionary scenes or pageants; Adam must accept the story of Abraham “by faith,” analogous to the faith Abraham himself displays. 6. Ur was on one bank of the Euphrates, Haran (line 131) on the other, to the northwest.

7. The Promised Land was bounded on the north by Hamath, a city on the Orontes River in west Syria; on the south by the wilderness “desert” of Zin; on the east by Mount Hermon; and on the west by the Mediterranean, the “great western sea.” 8. “Mount Carmel”: a mountain range near Haifa,

on

the

Mediterranean

coast

of Israel;

“Jordan”: the river thought incorrectly to have two sources (“double-founted”), the Jor and the

Dan; “Senir”: a peak of Mount Hermon. 9. Michael interprets the promise to Abraham (Genesis

17.5, “a father of many nations have I

made thee”) typologically, as to be fulfilled in Christ, the “Woman’s Seed.” See 10.180—81 and note 1, and 12.322—28, 12.600—601, 12.623.

1. Echoes Galatians 3.9: “So then they which be of faith are blessed with faithful Abraham.” His son (line 153) is Isaac, and his grandson, Jacob. 2. Adam can see geographical features from his mountaintop, though not the scenes Michael sees and describes.

PARADISE

160

WOiSi,)

BO OK

He comes invited by a younger son? In time of dearth,’ a son whose worthy deeds

Suspected to® a sequent® king, who seeks

Leen?

by / successive

To stop their overgrowth, as inmate® guests

Too numerous; whence of guests he makes them slaves Inhospitably, and kills their infant males: Till by two brethren (those two brethren call

170

|

famine

Raise him to be the second in that realm Of Pharaoh: there he dies, and leaves his race Growing into a nation, and now grown 165

12

foreign

Moses and Aaron) sent from God to claim

His people from enthrallment, they return With glory and spoil back to their promised land.4 But first the lawless tyrant, who denies° To know their God, or message to regard, Must be compelled by signs and judgments dire;5

refuses

To blood unshed the rivers must be turned,

Frogs, lice, and flies must all his palace fill With loathed intrusion, and fill all the land; His cattle must of rot and murrain® die, 180

Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss,° And all his people; thunder mixed with hail, Hail mixed with fire must rend th’ Egyptian sky

cattle plague

And wheel on th’ earth, devouring where it rolls; What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain, 185

190

A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green: Darkness must overshadow all his bounds, Palpable darkness, and blot out three days; Last with one midnight stroke all the firstborn Of Egypt must lie dead. Thus with ten wounds® The river-dragon’ tamed at length submits To let his sojourners depart, and oft

plagues

Humbles his stubborn heart, but still as ice 195

200

More hardened after thaw, till in his rage Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the sea Swallows him with his host, but them lets pass As on dry land between two crystal walls, Awed by the rod of Moses so to stand Divided, till his rescued gain their shore:® Such wondrous power God to his saint will lend, Though present in his angel, who shall go Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire, 3. Joseph, the next youngest of Jacob’s twelve sons, invited the Israelites to Egypt to escape famine, but they were subsequently made slaves

cover as with studs. 7. The Egyptian pharaoh is termed “the great dragon that lieth in the midst of his rivers” (Eze-

(Genesis 21—50).

kiel 29.3).

4. The story of Moses and Aaron leading the Israelites from captivity to the Promised Land is told in Exodus and Deuteronomy. 5. The ten plagues, recounted in lines 176—90. 6. “Botches”: boils; “blains”: blisters; “emboss”:

8. The Red Sea was parted by the rod of Moses; the Israelites passed through, but Pharaoh’s pursuing forces drowned as the water rushed back (Exodus

13.17—22 and 14.5—31).

1718

|

JOHN

MILTON

By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire, To guide them in their journey,’ and remove Behind them, while th’ obdurate king pursues: All night he will pursue, but his approach Darkness defends°® between till morning watch; Then through the fiery pillar and the cloud God looking forth will trouble all his host And craze® their chariot wheels: when by command Moses once more his potent rod extends Over the sea; the sea his rod obeys;

prevents

shatter

On their embattled ranks the waves return, And overwhelm their war:° the race elect

220

armies

Safe towards Canaan from the shore advance Through the wild desert, not the readiest way, Lest ent’ring on the Canaanite alarmed® War terrify them inexpert, and fear Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather Inglorious life with servitude; for life To noble and ignoble is more sweet

prepared to fight

Untrained in arms, where rashness leads not on.!

i) tw wa

230

235

This also shall they gain by their delay In the wide wilderness, there they shall found Their government, and their great senate* choose Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordained: God from the mount of Sinai, whose gray top Shall tremble, he descending, will himself In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpet’s sound Ordain them laws; part such as appertain To civil justice, part religious rites Of sacrifice,’ informing them, by types And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve Mankind’s deliverance.* But the voice of God To mortal ear is dreadful; they beseech That Moses might report to them his will,

And terror cease; he grants what they besought Instructed that to God is no access

Without mediator, whose high office now Moses in figure? bears, to introduce One greater, of whose day he shall foretell,

And all the prophets in their age the times Of great Messiah shall sing. Thus laws and rites Established, such delight hath God in men 9. Milton repeats here a view developed in his Christian Doctrine, that God was “present in his

religious

angel,” not in his own

Moses on Mount Sinai, with thunder and light-

person, in the cloud and

pillar of fire that led the Israelites on their journey (Exodus

13.21—22).

1. l.e., unless prompted by “rashness,” those “untrained in arms” will choose servitude rather than battle. 2. The “Seventy Elders” of the Sanhedrin, whom Milton cites as a model for republican government in his Ready and Easy Way.

3. God delivered ceremonial, laws

(the

Ten

ning (lines 227-32; Exodus

civil, and moral/

Commandments)

to

19-31).

4. The principle of typology, whereby persons and events in the Old Testament are seen to prefigure Christ or matters pertaining to his life or the Christian church. 5. Moses is a type of Christ in his role as mediator between the people and God.

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

12

|

Wnts)

Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes

Among them to set up his tabernacle,

The Holy One with mortal men to dwell: By his prescript a sanctuary is framed

250

Of cedar, overlaid with gold, therein

An ark, and in the ark his testimony, The records of his cov’nant, over these A mercy-seat of gold between the wings Of two bright Cherubim, before him burn 255

Seven lamps as in a zodiac® representing

The heav’nly fires; over the tent a cloud Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night, Save when they journey, and at length they come, Conducted by his angel to the land Promised to Abraham and his seed: the rest Were long to tell, how many battles fought, How many kings destroyed, and kingdoms won, Or how the sun shall in mid-heav’n stand still A day entire, and night’s due course adjourn,

like the planets

Man’s voice commanding, ‘Sun in Gibeon stand,

And thou moon in the vale of Aialon, Till Israel overcome’;® so call the third

From Abraham, son of Isaac, and from him 270

iS]“I wi}

His whole descent,’ who thus shall Canaan win.” Here Adam interposed: “O sent from Heav’n,

Enlight’ner of my darkness, gracious things Thou hast revealed, those chiefly which concern Just Abraham and his seed: now first I find Mine eyes true op’ning, and my heart much eased, Erewhile perplexed with thoughts what would become Of me and all mankind; but now I see His day, in whom all nations shall be blest,®

Favor unmerited by me, who sought Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means. This yet I apprehend not, why to those Among whom God will deign to dwell on earth So many and so various laws are giv’n; So many laws argue so many sins Among them; how can God with such reside?” 285

To whom thus Michael: “Doubt not but that sin Will reign among them, as of thee begot; And therefore was law given them to evince® Their natural pravity,° by stirring up Sin against law to fight; that when they see

make evident original sin

Law can discover sin, but not remove,

Save by those shadowy expiations weak, The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude 6. The story of Joshua, at whose bidding the sun stood still in Gibeon, and the moon in Ajalon (both a few miles north ofJerusalem), until Israel won its battle against the Amorites (Joshua 10.12—23). 7. Isaac’s son Jacob was named Israel, and his

descendants after him (Genesis 33.28). 8. Adam supposes that the promise made to him is fulfilled in the covenant with Abraham; he has yet to understand that in this Abraham is a type of Christ.

1720

295

|

JOHN

MILTON

Some blood more precious must be paid for man, Just for unjust, that in such righteousness To them by faith imputed, they may find Justification towards God, and peace Of conscience,’ which the law by ceremonies Cannot appease, nor man

300

the moral part

Perform, and not performing cannot live.’ So law appears imperfect, and but giv’n With purpose to resign® them in full time Up to a better cov’nant, disciplined From shadowy types to truth, from flesh to spirit, From imposition of strict laws, to free Acceptance of large grace, from servile fear

yield

To filial, works of law to works of faith.? And therefore shall not Moses, though of God Highly beloved, being but the minister 310

315

320

325

Of law, his people into Canaan lead; But Joshua whom the Gentiles Jesus call,’ His name and office bearing, who shall quell The adversary Serpent, and bring back Through the world’s wilderness long-wandered man Safe to eternal paradise of rest. Meanwhile they in their earthly Canaan placed Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins National interrupt their public peace, Provoking God to raise them enemies: From whom as oft he saves them penitent® Byjudges first, then under kings; of whom The second, both for piety renowned And puissant® deeds, a promise shall receive Irrevocable, that his regal throne Forever shall endure;* the like shall sing All prophecy, that of the royal stock

when penitent

mighty

Of David (so I name this king) shall rise A son, the Woman’s Seed to thee foretold,’ Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust 330

All nations, and to kings foretold, of kings The last, for of his reign shall be no end. But first a long succession must ensue,

And his next son for wealth and wisdom famed,

The clouded ark of God till then in tents Wandring, shall in a glorious temple enshrine.® 9. The ceremonial sacrifices of “bulls and goats” under the Law are types, “shadowy expiations,” pointing to Christ’s efficacious sacrifice

2. A more complete explanation of the principle of typology. 3. “Jesus” is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew

that alone can win “Justification” for humankind, by Christ’s merits being “imputed” (attributed vicariously) to them through faith (lines

“Joshua,” who, rather than Moses, led the children of Israel into the Promised Land of Canaan,

290-96).

4. The history summarized in lines 315-30 is recounted in Judges, Samuel, and Kings. 5. The Messiah was prophesied to come of David’s line, and Jesus was referred to as the “Son of David.” 6. Solomon, son of David, built a “glorious temple” to house the Ark of the Covenant.

1. The theological doctrine that the Law is intended to lead humans to the “better cov’nant” (line 302) of grace, by demonstrating that fallen men cannot fulfill the commandments of the Law or appease God through ceremonial sacrifices (lines 297-302).

being in this a type of Christ.

PARADISE

335

340

345

350

EOS,

Such follow him, as shall be registered Part good, part bad, of bad the longer scroll, Whose foul idolatries and other faults Heaped?® to the popular sum, will so incense

God, as to leave them, and expose their land,

Their city, his temple, and his holy ark With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey To that proud city, whose high walls thou saw’st Left in confusion, Babylon thence called. There in captivity he lets them dwell The space of seventy years,’ then brings them back, Rememb ring mercy, and his cov’nant sworn To David, stablished as the days of Heav’n. Returned from Babylon by leave of kings® Their lords, whom God disposed,’ the house of God They first re-edify, and for a while In mean estate live moderate, till grown

BO

OK

12

|

1721

added

made well-disposed

In wealth and multitude, factious they grow;

But first among the priests dissension springs, Men who attend the altar, and should most

355

360

Endeavor peace: their strife pollution brings Upon the Temple itself: at last they seize The scepter, and regard not David’s sons,° Then lose it to a stranger,’ that the true Anointed King Messiah might be born

descendants

Barred of his right; yet at his birth a star

Unseen before in heav’n proclaims him come, And guides the eastern sages,° who inquire

the Magi

His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold;

365

370

His place of birth a solemn? angel tells To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night; They gladly thither haste, and by a choir Of squadroned angels hear his carol sung. A virgin is his mother, but his sire The Power of the Most High; he shall ascend The throne hereditary, and bound his reign With earth’s wide bounds, his glory with the heav’ns.” He ceased, discerning Adam with such joy Surcharged,’ as had like grief been dewed in tears,

awe-inspiring

overwhelmed

Without the vent of words, which these he breathed:

375

“O prophet of glad tidings, finisher Of utmost hope! now clear I understand What oft my steadiest thoughts have searched in vain,

Why our great expectation should be called The Seed of Woman: Virgin Mother, hail, 7. The seventy-year Babylonian Captivity of the Jews and destruction of the Temple (6th century B.C.E.).

8. The Persian kings Cyrus the Great, Darius, and Artaxerxes allowed the Jews to return from

Babylon and rebuild the Temple. 9. Antiochus, father of Herod the Great (who ruled at the time of Christ’s birth), was made goy-

ernor of Jerusalem in 61 B.c.£. by the Romans, and procurator of Judaea in 47 B.c.£. Prior to this (lines 353-57), strife among the priests allowed the Seleucid king Antiochus IV to sack Jerusalem and pollute the Temple; then one of the Maccabees seized the throne, disregarding the claims of David’s dynasty.

Wz

380

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JOHN

MILTON

High in the love of Heav’n, yet from my loins Thou shalt proceed, and from thy womb the Son Of God Most High; so God with man unites. Needs must the Serpent now his capital° bruise Expect with mortal pain: say where and when Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the victor’s heel.” To whom thus Michael: “Dream not of their fight,

on the head, fatal

As of a duel, or the local wounds Of head or heel: not therefore joins the Son 390

Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foil Thy enemy; nor so is overcome Satan, whose fall from Heav’n, a deadlier bruise,

Disabled not to give thee thy death’s wound: Which he who comes thy Savior, shall recure,° 395

405

410

Not by destroying Satan, but his works In thee and in thy seed: nor can this be, But by fulfilling that which thou didst want,° Obedience to the law of God, imposed On penalty of death, and suffering death, The penalty to thy transgression due, And due to theirs which out of thine will grow: So only can high justice rest apaid.° The law of God exact he shall fulfill Both by obedience and by love, though love Alone fulfill the law; thy punishment He shall endure by coming in the flesh To a reproachful life and curséd death, Proclaiming life to all who shall believe In his redemption, and that his obedience Imputed becomes theirs by faith, his merits To save them, not their own, though legal works.!

heal

lack

satisfied

For this he shall live hated, be blasphemed,

Seized on by force, judged, and to death condemned A shameful and accursed, nailed to the cross

By his own nation, slain for bringing life; But to the cross he nails thy enemies, The law that is against thee, and the sins Of all mankind, with him there crucified,

Never to hurt them more who rightly trust In this his satisfaction; so he dies, 420

But soon revives, Death over him no power Shall long usurp; ere the third dawning light Return, the stars of morn shall see him rise Out of his grave, fresh as the dawning light, Thy ransom paid, which man from Death redeems, His death for man, as many as offered life

Neglect not,* and the benefit embrace By faith not void of works: this Godlike act 1. Michael restates the theological doctrine that humans can be saved only by Christ’s merits attributed to them vicariously (“imputed”), not by their own good works performed accord-

ing to God’s law (“legal”). 2. Le., for as many as accept (“neglect not”) his offer oflife.

PARAIDISIE®

EOS ipa BIO OiKeal 2

|

Wie2e3

Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have died, In sin forever lost from life; this act 430

435

Shall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength Defeating Sin and Death, his two main arms, And fix far deeper in his head their stings Than temporal death shall bruise the victor’s heel, Or theirs whom he redeems, a death like sleep, A gentle wafting to immortal life. Nor after resurrection shall he stay Longer on earth than certain times to appear

440

To his disciples, men who in his life Still followed him; to them shall leave in charge To teach all nations what of him they learned And his salvation, them who shall believe Baptizing in the profluent® stream, the sign

445

450

455

flowing

Of washing them from guilt of sin to life Pure, and in mind prepared, if so befall, For death, like that which the Redeemer died. All nations they shall teach; for from that day Not only to the sons of Abraham’s loins Salvation shall be preached, but to the sons Of Abraham's faith wherever through the world; So in his seed all nations shall be blest. Then to the Heav’n of Heav'ns he shall ascend With victory, triumphing through the air Over his foes and thine; there shall surprise The Serpent, prince of air, and drag in chains Through all his realm, and there confounded leave; Then enter into glory, and resume His seat at God’s right hand, exalted high Above all names in Heav’n; and thence shall come,

460

When this world’s dissolution shall be ripe With glory and power to judge both quick® and dead, To judge th’ unfaithful dead, but to reward

living

His faithful, and receive them into bliss,

465

470

475

Whether in Heav’n or earth, for then the earth Shall all be paradise, far happier place Than this of Eden, and far happier days.” So spake th’ Archangel Michaél, then paused, As at the world’s great period;° and our sire Replete with joy and wonder thus replied: “O goodness infinite, goodness immense! That all this good of evil shall produce, And evil turn to good; more wonderful Than that which by creation first brought forth Light out of darkness! Full of doubt I stand, Whether | should repent me now of sin By me done and occasioned, or rejoice Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring, To God more glory, more good will to men

consummation

3. Michael spells out the application to Christ of the promise offered typologically to Abraham's seed.

1724

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JOHN

MILTON

480

From God, and over wrath grace shall abound.* But say, if our Deliverer up to Heav’n Must reascend, what will betide the few

485

The enemies of truth; who then shall guide His people, who defend? Will they not deal Worse with his followers than with him they dealt?” “Be sure they will,” said th’ angel; “but from Heav’n

His faithful, left among th’ unfaithful herd,

He to his own a Comforter will send,’

The promise of the Father, who shall dwell His Spirit within them, and the law of faith 490

495

500

505

510

Working through love, upon their hearts shall write, To guide them in all truth, and also arm With spiritual armor, able to resist Satan’s assaults, and quench his fiery darts,° What? man can do against them, not afraid, Though to the death, against such cruelties With inward consolations recompensed, And oft supported so as shall amaze Their proudest persecutors: for the Spirit Poured first on his apostles, whom he sends To evangelize the nations, then on all Baptized, shall them with wondrous gifts endue® To speak all tongues, and do all miracles, As did their Lord before them. Thus they win Great numbers of each nation to receive With joy the tidings brought from Heav’n: at length Their ministry performed, and race well run, Their doctrine and their story written left,’ They die; but in their room, as they forewarn, Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, Who all the sacred mysteries of Heav’n To their own vile advantages shall turn

as much as

endow

Of lucre® and ambition, and the truth

wealth

With superstitions and traditions taint,® Left only in those written records pure, Though not but by the Spirit understood. Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names,°

honors

Places° and titles, and with these to join

offices

Secular power, though feigning still to act By spiritual, to themselves appropriating 4. These

lines do not formulate

the medieval

idea of the felix culpa—that the Fall was fortunate in bringing humans greater happiness than they would otherwise have enjoyed—only that the Fall has provided God an occasion to bring still greater good out of evil. The poem makes clear that Adam and Eve would have grown in perfection and advanced to Heaven had they not sinned, 5. The Holy Spirit, who for Milton is much sub-

ordinate to both Father and Son. 6. Cf. Ephesians 6.11—-16: “Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil... . Above all, tak-

ing the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.” The

subsequent history (lines 493-507) is that of the early Christian church in apostolic times. 7. I.e., in the Gospels and Epistles. 8. The history summarized in lines 508—40 is of

the corruption of the Christian church by superstitions, traditions, and persecutions of conscience in patristic times under the popes and the Christian emperors, but also extending to the Last Day. The terms point especially to what Milton saw as the revival of “popish” superstitions in the English church of the Restoration and to the fierce persecution of dissenters.

PARADISE

LOS.

BOOK

2

|

APA)

The Spirit of God, promised alike and giv’n 520

To all believers; and from that pretense,

Spiritual laws by carnal° power shall force On every conscience;’ laws which none shall find Left them enrolled, or what the Spirit within Shall on the heart engrave.! What will they then

525

530

fleshly, worldly

But force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bind His consort Liberty; what, but unbuild His living temples,’ built by faith to stand, Their own faith not another's: for on earth Who against faith and conscience can be heard Infallible?? Yet many will presume: Whence heavy persecution shall arise On all who in the worship persevere Of Spirit and Truth; the rest, far greater part, Will deem in outward rites and specious forms Religion satisfied; Truth shall retire

Bestuck with sland’rous darts, and works of faith

Rarely be found: so shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning, till the day 540

Appear of respiration® to the just,

respite

And vengeance to the wicked, at return Of him so lately promised to thy aid, The Woman’s Seed,* obscurely then foretold, vi+

wa

550

555

Now amplier known thy Savior and thy Lord, Last in the clouds from Heav’n to be revealed In glory of the Father, to dissolve Satan with his perverted world, then raise From the conflagrant mass,° purged and refined, New heav’ns, new earth, ages of endless date Founded in righteousness and peace of love, To bring forth fruits joy and eternal bliss.” He ended; and thus Adam last replied:

the burning world

“How soon hath thy prediction, seer blest, Measured this transient world, the race of time, Till time stand fixed: beyond is all abyss,

Eternity, whose end no eye can reach. Greatly instructed I shall hence depart,

560

Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill Of knowledge, what? this vessel can contain; Beyond which was my folly to aspire. Henceforth I learn, that to obey is best, 9. These lines affirm the Protestant principle of every Christian’s right to interpret Scripture according to the “inner light” of the Spirit, and denounce (as Milton consistently did in his

as much as

Spirit’s inner teaching that sanctions persecution for conscience. 2. Cf. 1 Corinthians 3.16: “Know ye not that ye

Milton typically insists that Christ’s gospel and the Spirit of God teach liberty, religious and civil, alluding as here to 2 Corinthians 3.17: “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” 3. An attack on papal claims to infallibility, asserted though not yet proclaimed as doctrine. 4. Michael's story ends with the full explication of the promised “Woman's Seed” as Christ, and with the renewal of all things after the Last

are the temple of God?” “His consort Liberty”:

Judgment (lines 545-51).

tracts) the use ofcivil (“carnal”) power to enforce

orthodoxy. 1. Le., there is nothing in Scripture

or in the

1726

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JOHN

MILTON

And love with fear the only God, to walk As in his presence, ever to observe 565

wil~I o

575

His providence, and on him sole depend, Merciful over all his works, with good Still overcoming evil, and by small Accomplishing great things, by things deemed weak Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise By simply meek; that suffering for truth’s sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life; Taught this by his example whom I now Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest.” To whom thus also th’ angel last replied: “This having learnt, thou hast attained the sum Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the stars Thou knew’st by name,’ and all th’ ethereal powers, All secrets of the deep, all nature’s works, Or works of God in heav’n, air, earth, or sea,

And all the riches of this world enjoy’dst, And all the rule, one empire; only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable,° add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love,

corresponding

|

By name to come called charity, the soul 585

590

600

605

Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thee, happier far. Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation;° for the hour precise Exacts° our parting hence; and see the guards, By me encamped on yonder hill, expect Their motion,’ at whose front a flaming sword, In signal of remove, waves fiercely round; We may no longer stay: go, waken Eve; Her also I with gentle dreams have calmed Portending good, and all her spirits composed

|

hill of speculation requires

await their orders

To meek submission: thou at season fit

|

Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard, Chiefly what may concern her faith to know, The great deliverance by her seed to come (For by the Woman’s Seed) on all mankind. That ye may live, which will be many days, Both in one faith unanimous though sad, With cause for evils past, yet much more cheered With meditation on the happy end.” He ended, and they both descend the hill,

|

Descended, Adam to the bow’r where Eve

Lay sleeping ran before, but found her waked; And thus with words not sad she him received: 610

“Whence thou return’st, and whither went’st, I know; 5. Michael glances back at Raphael’s warning in Book 8 that Adam should concern himself first with matters pertaining to his own life and world, rather than speculating overmuch about the cosmos.

| |

PARADISE

LOST,

BOOK

12

|

Li PATh

For God is also in sleep, and dreams advise,° Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow and heart’s distress Wearied | fell asleep: but now lead on; 615

630

635

In me is no delay; with thee to go, Is to stay here; without thee here to stay,

Is to go hence unwilling; thou to me Art all things under heav’n, all places thou,’ Who for my willful crime art banished hence. This further consolation yet secure I carry hence; though all by me is lost, Such favor I unworthy am vouchsafed, By me the promised Seed shall all restore.” So spake our mother Eve, and Adam heard Well pleased, but answered not; for now too nigh Th’ Archangel stood, and from the other hill To their fixed station, all in bright array The Cherubim descended; on the ground Gliding metéorous,° as evening mist Ris’n from a river o'er the marish® glides, And gathers ground fast at the laborer’s heel Homeward returning. High in front advanced, The brandished sword of God before them blazed Fierce as a comet; which with torrid heat, And vapor? as the Libyan air adust,° Began to parch that temperate clime; whereat In either hand the hast’ning angel caught Our ling’ring parents, and to th’ eastern gate

like a meteor marsh

smoke / parched

Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast 640

645

To the subjected? plain; then disappeared. They looking back, all th’ eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,° Waved over by that flaming brand,’ the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms:

low-lying

estate sword

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;

The world was all before them, where to choose

Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand with wand ring steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way. 1674

6. The lines suggest that Eve’s dream vided her a parallel (if lesser) prophecy visions and instruction. Cf. Numbers there be a prophet among you, I the make

myself known

has proto Adam's 12.6: “If Lord will

unto him in a vision, and

will speak unto him in a dream.” 7. Eve’s lines—the final speech in the poem— recall her prelapsarian love song to Adam (4.641ff.) and Ruth’s promise to accompany her mother-in-law, Naomi (Ruth 1.16).

e228

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JOHN

MILTON

Samson Agonistes A violent and promiscuous strongman given to playing brutal practical jokes on his enemies, Samson may not seem a compelling tragic hero. Yet Milton’s interest in his story, told in the biblical Book of Judges, was long-

standing. In a notebook he kept in the 1640s, he sketched out ideas for a Samson play that he seems not to have immediately pursued. Although its date of composition is uncertain, Samson Agonistes was not published until 1671, when it was included in a volume with Milton's “brief epic,” Paradise Regained. The story of Samson as Milton tells it, blinded and imprisoned by his enemies but still endowed with astounding god-given faculties, may have had a special pertinence for the author in the period after 1660. In these years, the aging, blind poet saw his revolutionary political dreams definitively crushed, but also at last finished the great series of poems he had felt called to write all his life. The name of the tragedy, combining the Hebrew name Samson with the Greek word agonistes, meaning “one who struggles,” announces that like much of Milton’s work it will combine biblical stories and classical literary techniques. Samson Agonistes is a “closet drama,” designed for reading rather than for stage performance. Like Greek drama but unlike the tragedies performed in Milton’s time, it observes the

unity of time and place, eschews violence on the imagined stage, and employs a Chorus to comment on the hero and his situation. The play is structured as a series of encounters:

with the Chorus;

with Samson’s

father,

Manoa;

with

Samson’s

wife,

Dalila; and with a blustering challenger, Harapha. Over the course of these encounters, Samson must come to terms with his own apparently disastrous choices and with the treachery of those he had trusted. Because of his extraordinary gifts, some of the rules that normally govern human behavior do not apply to him, but he must then consider how to act properly in the absence of such rules. His struggle to understand his situation is mirrored in the reader’s interpretive dilemmas. Throughout the tragedy, especially at its cataclysmic end, we must ask to what extent Samson’s failures and suffering in fact continue to serve the inscrutable design of Providence.

Samson Agonistes A DRAMATIC POEM Of That Sort of Dramatic Poem Which Is Called Tragedy Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held the gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other poems: therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and suchlike passions, that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated.! Nor is Nature wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion; for so, in physic, things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humors.* Hence philosophers and other gravest writers, as Cicero, Plutarch, and others, frequently cite out of tragic poets, both to adorn and illustrate their discourse. The Apostle Paul himself

thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides into the text of Holy Scripture, 1 Cor. 15.33; and Paraeus, commenting on the Revelation, divides

the whole book, as a tragedy, into acts, distinguished each by a chorus of heavenly harpings and song between.* Heretofore men in highest dignity have 1, Milton is paraphrasing Aristotle’s Poetics 6. 2. Italian Renaissance critics had applied notions of homeopathic medicine (like cures like) to tragedy; the idea is not Aristotelean. “Physic”:

medicine. 3. David Paraeus (1548-1622) was a German Calvinist who wrote biblical commentaries.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

AZO

labored not a little to be thought able to compose a tragedy. Of that honor Dionysius the elder was no less ambitious, than before of his attaining to the tyranny.* Augustus Caesar also had begun his Ajax, but unable to please his own judgment with what he had begun, left it unfinished. Seneca the philosopher is by some thought the author of those tragedies (at least the best of them) that go under that name. Gregory Nazianzen, a Father of the Church, thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a tragedy, which he entitled Christ Suffering.> This is mentioned to vindicate tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day, with other common interludes°—happening through the poet's error of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducing trivial and vulgar persons, which by all judicious hath been counted absurd, and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify the people. And, though ancient tragedy use no prologue,’ yet using sometimes, in case of self-defense or explanation, that which Martial calls an epistle;* in behalf of this tragedy, coming forth after the ancient manner, much different from what among us passes for best, thus much beforehand may be epistled: that chorus is here introduced after the Greek manner, not ancient only, but modern, and still in

use among the Italians.” In the modeling therefore of this poem, with good reason, the ancients and Italians are rather followed, as of much more author-

ity and fame. The measure of verse used in the chorus is of all sorts, called by the Greeks monostrophic,' or rather apolelymenon,? without regard had to strophe, antistrophe, or epode, which were a kind of stanzas framed only for the music, then used with the chorus that sung; not essential to the poem, and therefore not material; or, being divided into stanzas or pauses, they may be

called alloeostropha.’ Division into act and scene, referring chiefly to the stage (to which this work never was intended), is here omitted.’ It suffices if the

whole drama be found not produced’ beyond the fifth act. Of the style and uniformity, and that commonly called the plot, whether intricate or explicit—which is nothing indeed but such economy, or disposition of the fable, as may stand best with verisimilitude and decorum®’—they only will best judge who are not unacquainted with Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the three tragic poets unequaled yet by any, and the best rule to all who endeavor to write tragedy. The circumscription of time wherein the whole drama begins and ends is, according to ancient rule and best example, within the space of twenty-four hours.’ 4. Dionysius (4th century B.C.E.) won a prize at

Athens for tragedy, after becoming tyrant of Syr-

acuse. 5. Seneca the philosopher was indeed the author of tragedies; but Gregory Nazianzen, a Greek ecclesiastic of the 4th century, did not write the tragedy Christ Suffering, which scholarly opinion of Milton’s day attributed to him. 6. Stage plays. 7. Prologues and epilogues were frequent on the Restoration stage; Milton sets himself apart from contemporary styles. 8. Martial, the Roman epigrammatist of the Ist century C.£., prefixed an epistle to his book of epigrams.

9. For example, Tasso’s tragedy Re Torrismondo

was modeled closely on classical examples. 1. Not divided into strophe, antistrophe, and epode.

2. Free from stanzaic patterns altogether. 3. With various forms of strophe, irregular. 4. It is not hard to divide Milton’s drama into the customary five acts, each ending with a chorus: act | (Samson and Chorus), lines 1-325; 2 (Samson and Manoa), 326—709; 3 (Samson and

Dalila), 710-1060; 4 (Samson and Harapha), 1061-1296; 5 (Catastrophe), 1297—the end. 5. Drawn out. 6. “Decorum,”

for a Renaissance writer, is not

simply solemn or sedate behavior but the use of appropriate and suitable style, depending on speaker, subject, setting, genre, and so on. “Intricate or explicit”: complex or simple. 7. The so-called unity of time, limiting dramatic action

to twenty-four

Aristotle's Poetics Castelvetro.

hours, was

by the

derived

Renaissance

from

critic

1730

|

JOHN

MILTON

The Argument Samson, made captive, blind, and now in the prison at Gaza,° there to labor

as in a common workhouse, on a festival day, in the general cessation from labor, comes forth into the open air, to a place nigh, somewhat retired, there

to sit a while and bemoan his condition. Where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and equals? of his tribe, which make the chorus, who seek to comfort him what they can; then by his old father, Manoa, who

endeavors the like, and withal tells him his purpose to procure his liberty by ransom; lastly, that this feast was proclaimed by the Philistines as a day of thanksgiving for their deliverance from the hands of Samson—which yet more troubles him. Manoa then departs to prosecute his endeavor with the Philistian lords for Samson’s redemption; who in the meanwhile is visited by other persons, and, lastly, by a public officer to require his coming to the feast before the lords and people, to play or show his strength in their presence. He at first refuses, dismissing the public officer with absolute denial to come; at length persuaded inwardly that this was from God, he yields to go along with him, who came now the second time with great threatenings to fetch him. The chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of joyful hope to procure ere long his son’s deliverance: in the midst of which discourse an Hebrew comes in haste, confusedly at first, and afterward more distinctly, relating the catastrophe—what Samson had done to the Philistines, and by accident to himself; wherewith the tragedy ends. THE PERSONS

SAMSON MANOA, the father of Samson

DALILA, his wife HARAPHA of Gath PUBLIC OFFICER

MESSENGER CHORUS of Danites!

The Scene, before the Prison in Gaza. samson A little onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on;

For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade. There I am wont to sit, when any chance V1

Relieves me from my task of servile toil,

Daily in the common prison else enjoined me,” Where I, a prisoner chained, scarce freely draw

The air, imprisoned also, close and damp, Unwholesome draught. But here I feel amends— The breath of heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet, With day-spring® born; here leave me to respire. This day a solemn feast the people hold 8. The Philistines, warlike and commercial, lived in southwest Palestine (the southern coast of

modern Israel between, approximately, Tel Aviv and Gaza) in five cities named Ashdod, Eshkol,

Gaza, Gath, and Ashkalon. They were a wholly urban people as compared to the largely rural Israelites. 9. People of about the same age.

break of day

1. Hebrews of the tribe of Dan, Samson’s tribe.

When the land of Canaan was divided among the twelve tribes, the Danites received the southern

portion, adjacent to the Philistines. 2. The metrical pattern of this line, with its many unaccented syllables and careful placement of the strong word “else,” merits careful study. Similar bold effects are found throughout.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

bas

To Dagon? their sea-idol, and forbid Laborious works. Unwillingly this rest Their superstition yields me; hence, with leave Retiring from the popular noise, I seek This unfrequented place, to find some ease— Ease to the body some, none to the mind

From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm O hornets armed, no sooner found alone But rush upon me thronging, and present Times past, what once I was, and what am now. O, wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold Twice by an angel,* who at last, in sight Of both my parents, all in flames ascended From off the altar where an offering burned,

30

As in a fiery column charioting His godlike presence, and from some great act Or benefit revealed to Abraham’s race? Why was my breeding ordered and prescribed As of a person separate to God, Designed for great exploits, if Imust die Betrayed, captived, and both my eyes put out, Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze, To grind in brazen fetters under task With this heaven-gifted strength? O glorious strength, Put to the labor of a beast, debased Lower than bondslave! Promise was that I Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;

40

Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him

45

Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves, Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke. Yet stay; let me not rashly call in doubt Divine prediction. What if all foretold Had been fulfilled but through mine own default? Whom have I to complain of but myself, Who this high gift of strength committed to me, In what part lodged, how easily bereft me, Under the seal of silence could not keep,° But weakly to a woman

must reveal it,

O’ercome with importunity and tears? O impotence of mind in body strong! But what is strength without a double share Of wisdom? Vast, unwieldy, burdensome, Proudly secure,’ yet liable to fall By weakest subtleties; not made to rule, But to subserve where wisdom bears command. 3. Dagon’s name comes from dag, “fish,” and he seems to have had a fishy shape. His would thus be a marine cult to correspond with that of the many Baals, or land gods, of the Philistines (see Paradise Lost 1.457—66). 4. Before Samson was born, an angel foretold that he would begin the delivery of Israel from the Philistines (Judges 13.5).

5. Samson was a Nazarite, a member of an ascetic group dedicated to the service of God (see Numbers 6).

6. Le., who could not keep silent about the high gift of strength committed to me, or about where it was located, or about how easily it could be taken from me. 7. Confident, free from care (Latin securus).

Wiis2

|

JOHN

MILTON

God, when he gave me strength, to show withal

60

65

How slight the gift was, hung it in my hair. But peace! I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation,? which herein Haply had ends above my reach to know. Suffices that to me strength is my bane, And proves the source of all my miseries, So many, and so huge, that each apart

providence

Would ask a life to wail. But, chief of all,

O loss of sight, of thee | most complain! Blind among enemies! O worse than chains,

Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age! 70

Light, the prime work of God,* to me is extinct,

And all her various objects of delight Annulled, which might in part my grief have eased. Inferior to the vilest now become Of man or worm, the vilest here excel me:

75

They creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong, Within doors or without, still as a fool, In power of others, never in my own— Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.

80

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse

85

Without all hope of day! O first-created beam, and thou great Word, “Let there be light, and light was over all,” Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree?” The sun to me is dark And silent°® as the moon,

90

95

100

unperceived

When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.! Since light so necessary is to life, And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the soul, She all in every part,? why was the sight To such a tender ball as th’ eye confined, So obvious? and so easy to be quenched, And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused, That she might look at will through every pore? Then had I not been thus exiled from light, As in the land of darkness, yet in light,

exposed

To live a life half dead, a living death, And buried; but, O yet more miserable!

Myself my sepulcher, a moving grave; Buried, yet not exempt 8. God's first (“prime”) act in creating the world was to say “Let there be light” (Genesis 1.3), a phrase Milton paraphrases below. 9. l.e., why am I thus deprived of the firstcreated (and most important) thing? |. Ancient astronomers posited that during its

dark (“interlunar”) phase, the moon hid in a cave. “Vacant”: i.e., where the moon is at ease (Latin vacare, whence modern “vacation’). 2. A famous formula of Plotinus (Enneads 4.2.1) describes the soul as “all in all and all in every part.”

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

WSS

By privilege of death and burial 105

110

v

From worst of other evils, pains, and wrongs;

But made hereby obnoxious® more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes. But who are these? for with joint pace | hear The tread of many feet steering this way; Perhaps my enemies, who come to stare At my affliction, and perhaps to insult, Their daily practice to afflict me more. CHORUS This, this is he; softly a while; Let us not break in upon him. O change beyond report, thought, or belief! See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused,* With languished head unpropped,

vulnerable

As one past hope, abandoned,

And by himself given over, In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds° O’er-worn and soiled.

rags

Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he,

130

That heroic, that renowned, Irresistible Samson? whom, unarmed, No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast, could withstand:+ Who tore the lion as the lion tears the kid: Ran on embattled armies clad in iron, And, weaponless himself,

Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery” Of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass,

Chalybean-tempered steel, and frock of mail Adamantean proof;° 135

But safest he who stood aloof,

When insupportably° his foot advanced, In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools, Spurned them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite Fled from his lion ramp;’ old warriors turned 140

irresistably

Their plated backs under his heel,

Or groveling soiled their crested helmets in the dust. Then with what trivial weapon came to hand, The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, A thousand foreskins fell, the flower of Palestine, In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day; Then by main force pulled up, and on his shoulders bore,

The gates of Azza,* post and massy bar, 3. Literally, “poured forth,” sprawled. 4. Judges 14.5—6 tells the story of Samson ripping apart a lion with his bare hands. 5. Weapons of forged steel, but also fraudulent, exterior protections.

6. Hard as adamant, i.e., diamond. The Chalybes lived on the Black Sea and were famous ironworkers. 7. A lion in the act of attacking its prey, ram-

pant. “Ascalonite”: a man from Ascalon, or Ashkalon, one ofthe five great Philistine cities. 8. On one occasion Samson killed a thousand Philistines (i.e., “foreskins,” uncircumcised warriors), using the jawbone of an ass (Judges 15.15-17). Judges 16.3 tells how Samson, to escape his enemies, picked up and carried off

the gates of Gaza (Azza).

1734

150

|

JOHN

MILTON

Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, No journey of a Sabbath day, and loaded so, Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heaven.

9

Which shall I first bewail,

Thy bondage or lost sight, Prison within prison Inseparably dark? Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!)

The dungeon of thyself; thy soul (Which men enjoying sight oft without cause complain) Imprisoned now indeed, In real darkness of the body dwells, 160

Shut up from outward light To incorporate with gloomy night; For inward light, alas!

Puts forth no visual beam.! O mirror of our fickle state, Since man on earth unparalleled!

The rarer thy example stands, By how much from the top of wondrous glory, Strongest of mortal men, 170

To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen! For him I reckon not in high estate Whom long descent of birth, Or the sphere of fortune,’ raises; But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her mate,

Might have subdued the Earth, Universally crowned with highest praises. SAMSON | I hear the sound of words; their sense the air

180

Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. cHoruUs He speaks: let us draw nigh. Matchless in might, The glory late of Israel, now the grief! We come, thy friends and neighbors not unknown, From Eshtaol and Zora’s fruitful vale, To visit or bewail thee; or, if better,

Counsel or consolation we may bring, Slave to thy sores: apt words have power to swage®

assuage

The tumors of a troubled mind, And are as balm to festered wounds. SAMSON Your coming, friends, revives me; for I learn

190

Now of my own experience, not by talk, How counterfeit a coin they are who “friends” Bear in their superscription (of the most I would be understood). In prosperous days They swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head, 9. In Greek (or, as Milton calls it, Gentile) mythology, Atlas supports the heavens. From Gaza to Hebron would be about forty miles—no journey for the day of rest. |. Renaissance physiologists believed that the eye saw by sending forth a “visual beam,” which it directed at various objects.

2. l.e., no such example (has been seen) since

man (was) on earth, “Fickle”: changeable.

3. “Sphere”: wheel. Fortune was described as possessing a wheel that, merely by rotating, automatically interchanged the highest and lowest social positions. Milton's definition of “high estate” is interior and spiritual; he has no interest in the old “Fall of Princes” theme. In fact, the play exactly reverses that theme.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

IWeSio

Not to be found, though sought. Ye see, O friends, How many evils have enclosed me round; 195

200

Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me, Blindness; for, had I sight, confused with shame,

How could I once look up, or heave® the head, Who like a foolish pilot have shipwrecked My vessel trusted to me from above, Gloriously rigged, and for a word, a tear, Fool! have divulged the secret gift of God

lift

To a deceitful woman? Tell me, friends,

205

Am I not sung and proverbed for a fool In every street? Do they not say, “How well Are come upon him his deserts”? Yet why? Immeasurable strength they might behold In me; of wisdom nothing more than mean.° This with the other should at least have paired;° These two, proportioned ill, drove me transverse.° cHorus_ Tax not divine disposal. Wisest men Have erred, and by bad women been deceived; And shall again, pretend they ne’er so wise.* Deject not then so overmuch thyself, Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides.

average been equal off course

Yet, truth to say, I oft have heard men wonder

Why thou should’st wed Philistian women rather Than of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair,

At least of thy own nation, and as noble. sAMSON The first I saw at Timna, and she pleased Me, not my parents, that I sought to wed The daughter of an infidel.> They knew not That what I motioned® was of God; I knew

intended

From intimate impulse, and therefore urged The marriage on, that, by occasion hence,° 225

230

I might begin Israel’s deliverance, The work to which I was divinely called. She proving false, the next I took to wife (O that I never had! fond wish too late!) Was in the vale of Sorec, Dalila,’ That specious monster, my accomplished snare.

I thought it lawful from my former act, And the same end, still watching to oppress Israel’s oppressors. Of what now I suffer She was not the prime cause, but I myself, Who, vanquished with a peal of words (O weakness!),

Gave up my fort of silence to a woman. cHorus In seeking just occasion to provoke The Philistine, thy country’s enemy, Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness; 240

Yet Israel still serves with all his sons.* 4. l.e., however much they profess to be wise. 5. Judges 14.1—4 tells the story of Samson's first decision to marry outside his own tribe and nation. 6. L.e., so that it might provide an occasion for me to

begin Israel's deliverance. 7. Judges 16.4 describes this wedding, 8. L.e., Israel and the children of Israel are still in servitude.

Lgsi@

|

JOHN

SAMSON

MILTON

That fault I take not on me, but transfer

On Israel’s governors and heads of tribes, Who, seeing those great acts which God had done Singly by me against their conquerors, 245

Acknowledged not, or not at all considered Deliverance offered. I, on th’ other side,

Used no ambition to commend my deeds;? The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.

250

But they persisted deaf, and would not seem To count them things worth notice, till at length Their lords, the Philistines, with gathered powers,

iS) wa wi

Entered Judea seeking me, who then Safe to the rock of Etham was retired, Not flying, but forecasting in what place To set upon them, what advantaged best. Meanwhile the men ofJudah, to prevent The harass of their land, beset me round;

260

tw >

wi

I willingly on some conditions came Into their hands, and they as gladly yield me To the uncircumcised! a welcome prey, Bound with two cords. But cords to me were threads Touched with the flame: on their whole host I flew Unarmed, and with a trivial weapon felled Their choicest youth; they only lived who fled. Had Judah that day joined, or one whole tribe, They had by this° possessed the towers of Gath, And lorded over them whom now they serve.

| |

by this time

But what more oft, in nations grown corrupt,

270

275

280

tw Oo wi

And by their vices brought to servitude, Than to love bondage more than liberty, Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty,’ And to despise, or envy, or suspect, Whom God hath of his special favor raised As their deliverer? If he aught begin, How frequent to desert him, and at last To heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds! cHorus Thy words to my remembrance bring How Succoth and the fort of Penuel Their great deliverer contemned, The matchless Gideon, in pursuit Of Madian and her vanquished kings;* And how ingrateful Ephraim Had dealt with Jephtha, who by argument, Not worse than by his shield and spear, Defended Israel from the Ammonite, Had not his prowess quelled their pride In that sore battle when so many died 9. l.e., sought for no testimonials to my actions. 1. Foreigners,

Abraham. : ee

2. Judges

the people

Hs A 15. ~l7

outside

the covenant

of

hie ates 1 tells the tale of Samson's

single-handed victory, using a the jawbone of an ass.

“trivial weapon,

3. Milton appears to have in mind not only early Israel but also contemporary England.

:

:

: ) 4. Judges 8: Succoth i i to and Penuel refused aid Gideon when he was pursuing the common foe, and he punished them

SAMSON

290

300

AGONISTES

Without reprieve, adjudged to death For want of well pronouncing Shibboleth.> SAMSON Of such examples add me to the roll. Me easily indeed mine® may neglect, But God’s proposed deliverance not so. CHORUS Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men, Unless there be who think not God at all. If any be, they walk obscure; For of such doctrine never was there school, But the heart of the fool, And no man therein doctor but himself.® Yet more there be who doubt his ways not just,

|

1737

my people

As to his own edicts found contradicting;

Then give the reins to wandering thought, Regardless of his glory’s diminution, Till, by their own perplexities involved, 305

They ravel’ more, still less resolved, But never find self-satisfying solution. As if they would confine th’ Interminable,°

310

Infinite

And tie him to his own prescript, Who made our laws to bind us, not himself, And hath full right to exempt Whomso it pleases him by choice From national obstriction,® without taint Of sin, or legal debt;

For with his own laws he can best dispense. 315

He would not else, who never wanted means,

Nor in respect of the enemy just cause To set his people free,

320

Have prompted this heroic Nazarite, Against his vow of strictest purity, To seek in marriage that fallacious bride, Unclean, unchaste. Down, Reason, then; at least, vain reasonings down;

Though Reason here aver That moral verdict quits her of unclean: Unchaste was subsequent; her stain, not his.’

But see! here comes thy reverend sire, With careful step, locks white as down,!

330

Old Manoa: advise? Forthwith how thou ought’st to receive him. SAMSON Ay me! another inward grief, awaked With mention of that name, renews th’ assault. MANOA Brethren and men of Dan (for such ye seem, 5. See Judges 11 and 12.

9. The Chorus,

6. Psalm

14 deals with the fool who says in his

Timna of being unclean (i.e., Gentile and taboo)

having accused

the woman

of

heart there is no God. “Doctor”: teacher. 7. Become entangled. 8. Obligation, i.e., the law against marrying Gentiles (Deuteronomy 7.3). The chorus here accepts Samson’s argument that God had prompted him inexplicably to marry the woman of Timna.

and unchaste, now admits that since Samson married her at God’s instigation she was not unclean to him and that she was unchaste only after Samson left her. Reason is therefore puzzled. 1. Swan’s down. “Careful”: full of care. 2. Reflect, consider inwardly.

Nef Sie3}

|

JOHN

MILTON

Though in this uncouth? place), if old respect, As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend, My son, now captive, hither hath informed®

340

Your younger feet, while mine, cast back with age, Came lagging after, say if he be here. cHorus_ As signal® now in low dejected state As erst in highest, behold him where he lies. MANOA O miserable change! Is this the man,

unfamiliar directed

notable

That invincible Samson, far renowned,

345

The dread of Israel’s foes, who with a strength Equivalent to angels’ walked their streets, None offering fight; who, single combatant, Dueled their armies ranked in proud array, Himself an army—now unequal match To save himself against a coward armed At one spear’s length? O ever-failing trust

350

Deceivable and vain?* Nay, what thing good

In mortal strength! and, oh, what not in man Prayed for, but often proves our woe, our bane?

360

I prayed for children, and thought barrenness In wedlock a reproach; I gained a son, And such a son as all men hailed me happy: Who would be now a father in my stead? O wherefore did God grant me my request, And as a blessing with such pomp adorned? Why are his gifts desirable, to tempt Our earnest prayers, then, given with solemn hand As graces, draw a scorpion’s tail behind? For this did the angel twice descend?* for this Ordained thy nurture holy, as of a plant Select and sacred? glorious for a while, The miracle of men; then in an hour Ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound,

Thy foes’ derision, captive, poor and blind, Into a dungeon thrust, to work with slaves! Alas! methinks whom God hath chosen once 370

To worthiest deeds, if he through frailty err, He should not so o’erwhelm, and as a thrall

Subject him to so foul indignities, Be it but for honor’s sake of former deeds. SAMSON Appoint not heavenly disposition,* father. Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me But justly; | myself have brought them on; Sole author I, sole cause.° If aught seem vile, As vile hath been my folly, who have profaned The mystery of God, given me under pledge 3. I.e., what is there in man that is not deceivable and vain? 4. The angel who announced Samson’s birth was sent a second time, in answer to Manoa’s request, to give instructions concerning his education and training.

5. L.e., do not presume to control heaven's decisions. 6. Like Adam, in Paradise Lost 10, Samson proves his own resurgent virtue by accepting responsibility for his own faults.

SAMSON

380

AGONISTES

1739

Of vow, and have betrayed it to a woman, A Canaanite, my faithless enemy. This well I knew, nor was at all surprised,

385

390

But warned by oft experience. Did not she Of Timna first betray me, and reveal The secret wrested from me in her height Of nuptial love professed, carrying it straight To them who had corrupted her, my spies And rivals?’ In this other was there found More faith, who, also in her prime of love, Spousal embraces, vitiated with gold, Though offered only, by the scent conceived Her spurious first-born, treason against me?® Thrice she essayed, with flattering prayers and sighs, And amorous reproaches, to win from me

400

405

My capital secret,’ in what part my strength Lay stored, in what part summed, that she might know; Thrice I deluded her, and turned to sport Her importunity, each time perceiving How openly and with what impudence She purposed to betray me, and (which was worse Than undissembled hate) with what contempt She sought to make me traitor to myself. Yet the fourth time, when, mustering all her wiles, With blandished parleys, feminine assaults, Tongue-batteries, she surceased® not day nor night

forebore

To storm me, over-watched and wearied out,

At times when men seek most repose and rest, I yielded, and unlocked her all my heart, Who, with a grain of manhood well resolved, Might easily have shook off all her snares; 410

But foul effeminacy? held me yoked Her bondslave. O indignity, O blot To honor and religion! servile mind Rewarded well with servile punishment! The base degree to which I now am fallen,

415

These rags, this grinding, is not yet so base As was my former servitude, ignoble, Unmanly, ignominious, infamous, True slavery; and that blindness worse than this,

420

That saw not how degenerately I served. MANOA _ I cannot praise thy marriage-choices, son, Rather approved them not; but thou didst plead Divine impulsion* prompting how thou might’st 7. Samson's

first wife,

the woman

of Timna,

revealed Samson's riddle to his enemies (Judges 14.819).

8. At the mere scent of gold, Dalila conceived a bastard (“spurious”) offspring for Samson— treason.

9. The

secret

importance;

Dalila

learned

also, it involved

was

of capital

the hair on Sam-

son's head (Latin caput).

1. Judges 16.5—20. 2. Uxoriousness, overfondness, the fault of Adam. 3. Samson’s repeated reliance on extraordinary divine inspiration aligns him, for Milton, with the godly party of the 17th century—as against worldlings who doubted or disliked the idea of recurring divine intervention.

1740

JOHN

MILTON

Find some occasion to infest our foes. I state not? that; this I am sure, our foes

425

Found soon occasion thereby to make thee Their captive, and their triumph; thou the sooner

Temptation found’st, or over-potent charms, To violate the sacred trust of silence Deposited within thee; which to have kept

430

Tacit® was in thy power. True; and thou bear’st

silent

Enough, and more, the burden of that fault;

435

Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying, That rigid score.° A worse thing yet remains: This day the Philistines a popular feast Here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim Great pomp and sacrifice and praises loud, To Dagon, as their god who hath delivered

debt

Thee, Samson, bound and blind, into their hands,

440

Them out of thine, who slew’st them many a slain. So Dagon shall be magnified,’ and God, Besides whom is no god, compared with idols,

445

450

455

Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn By th’ idolatrous rout amidst their wine; Which to have come to pass by means of thee, Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest, Of all reproach the most with shame that ever Could have befallen thee and thy father’s house. SAMSON Father, I do acknowledge and confess That I this honor, I this pomp, have brought To Dagon, and advanced his praises high Among the heathen round; to God have brought Dishonor, obloquy, and oped the mouths Of idolists and atheists; have brought scandal To Israel, diffidence® of God, and doubt

mistrust

In feeble hearts, propense® enough before To waver, or fall off and join with idols:

inclined

Which is my chief affliction, shame and sorrow,

460

465

The anguish of my soul, that suffers not Mine eye to harbor sleep, or thoughts to rest. This only hope relieves me, that the strife With me hath end. All the contést is now "Twixt God and Dagon. Dagon hath presumed, Me overthrown, to enter lists® with God, His deity comparing and preferring Before the God of Abraham. He, be sure,

Will not connive® or linger, thus provoked,

hesitate

But will arise, and his great name assert.

470

Dagan must stoop, and shall ere long receive Such a discomfit as shall quite despoil him Of all these boasted trophies won on me, And with confusion blank’ his worshipers. 4. Offer no opinion on. “Infest”: attack. 5. Glorified. “Who slew’st them many a slain”: i.e., who slew many a one of them.

6. Jousting courts, as in medieval tourneys. 7. Confound, turn pale.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

1741

by this

time

MANOA With cause this hope relieves thee; and these words I as a prophecy receive; for God (Nothing more certain) will not long defer To vindicate the glory of his name Against all competition, nor will long Endure it doubtful whether God be Lord, Or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done? Thou must not in the meanwhile, here forgot, 480

485

490

Lie in this miserable loathsome plight Neglected. I already have made way To some Philistian lords, with whom to treat About thy ransom. Well they may by this° Have satisfied their utmost of revenge By pains and slaveries, worse than death, inflicted On thee, who now no more canst do them harm. Spare that proposal, father; spare the trouble SAMSON Of that solicitation. Let me here, As I deserve, pay on my punishment, And expiate, if possible, my crime, Shameful garrulity. To have revealed Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend,

500

505

How heinous had the fact been, how deserving Contempt and scorn of all; to be excluded All friendship, and avoided as a blab, The mark of fool set on his front!° But I God’s counsel have not kept, his holy secret Presumptuously have published, impiously, Weakly at least and shamefully: a sin That Gentiles in their parables condemn To their abyss and horrid pains confined.* MANOA Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite, But act not in thy own affliction, son. Repent the sin, but if the punishment Thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids; Or th’ execution leave to high disposal,

forehead

And let another hand, not thine, exact

510

Thy penal forfeit from thyself. Perhaps God will relent, and quit® thee of all his debt; Who ever more approves and more accepts (Best pleased with humble and filial submission) Him who, imploring mercy, sues for life,

free

Than who, self-rigorous, chooses death as due;?

Which argues over-just, and self-displeased For self-offense more than for God offended. Reject not, then, what offered means who knows But God hath set before us to return thee Home to thy country and his sacred house, 520

Where thou may’st bring thy offerings, to avert His further ire, with prayers and vows renewed. 8. In classical legend, Tantalus was confined to hell and torment because he betrayed the secrets of the gods, and Prometheus was savagely pun-

ished for giving humanity the secret of fire. 9. This is similar to Adam’s argument against suicide in Paradise Lost 10.1013-19.

1742

|

JOHN

MILTON

SAMSON — His pardon I implore; but, as for life,

vl ice)wa

To what end should I seek it? When in strength All mortals I excelled, and great in hopes, With youthful courage, and magnanimous thoughts Of birth from Heaven foretold and high exploits, Full of divine instinct, after some proof Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond The sons of Anak, famous now and blazed,!

Fearless of danger, like a petty god 530

I walked about, admired of all, and dreaded

On hostile ground, none daring my affront— Then, swoll’n with pride, into the snare I fell Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains,° va es wil

sexual lures

Softened with pleasure and voluptuous life; At length to lay my head and hallowed pledge Of all my strength in the lascivious lap Of a deceitful concubine, who shore me,

Like a tame wether,’ all my precious fleece,

castrated sheep

Then turned me out ridiculous, despoiled, 540

Shaven, and disarmed among my enemies. cHorus

Desire of wine and all delicious drinks,

Which many a famous warrior overturns, Thou could’st repress; nor did the dancing ruby, Sparkling out-poured, the flavor or the smell, wn as wi

Or taste, that cheers the heart of gods and men, Allure thee from the cool crystalline stream. SAMSON Wherever fountain or fresh current flowed Against the eastern ray, translucent pure With touch ethereal of Heaven’s fiery rod,? I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying Thirst, and refreshed; nor envied them the grape

wn wi wn

560

Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. cHorus O madness! to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook!? SAMSON But what availed this temperance, not complete Against another object more enticing? What boots it at one gate to make defense, And at another to let in the foe, Effeminately vanquished? by which means, Now blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonored, quelled,

To what can | be useful? wherein serve My nation, and the work from Heaven imposed? But to sit idle on the household hearth, A burdenous drone; to visitants a gaze,° 1. Emblazoned, glorified. “Sons of Anak”: giants, described in Numbers 13. 2. The rays of the sun. Samson is saying that wherever water was purest and cleanest, he drank of it—never of wine. “Rod” intimates a parallel

spectacle

with Moses, who like Samson brought forth a spring in the middle of the desert. 3. Samson’s calling as a Nazarite forbade him the use of wine.

SAMSON

570

AGONISTES

580

585

599

595

1743

Or pitied object; these redundant locks, Robustious* to no purpose, clustering down, Vain monument of strength; till length of years And sedentary numbness craze° my limbs

575

|

To a contemptible old age obscure. Here rather let me drudge, and earn my bread, Till vermin, or the draff> of servile food, Consume me, and oft-invocated death Hasten the welcome end of all my pains. MANOA Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift Which was expressly given thee to annoy them? ; Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle, Inglorious, unemployed, with age outworn. But God, who caused a fountain at thy prayer From the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allay After the brunt of battle,° can as easy Cause light again within thy eyes to spring, Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast. And I persuade me so. Why else this strength Miraculous yet remaining in those locks? His might continues in thee not for naught, Nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus. SAMSON Ali otherwise to me my thoughts portend, That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light, Nor th’ other light of life continue long, But yield to double darkness nigh at hand; So much I feel my genial spirits°® droop, My hopes all flat. Nature within me seems

weaken, twist

life forces

In all her functions weary of herself;

My race of glory run, and race of shame, And I shall shortly be with them that rest. MANOA Believe not these suggestions, which proceed 600

From anguish of the mind, and humors black

That mingle with thy fancy.’ I, however, Must not omit a father’s timely care To prosecute the means of thy deliverance By ransom or how else: meanwhile be calm,

605

And healing words from these thy friends admit. sAMSON O that torment should not be confined To the body’s wounds and sores, With maladies innumerable In heart, head, breast, and reins,°

610

kidneys

But must secret passage find To th’ inmost mind,

There exercise all his fierce accidents,* And on her purest spirits prey,

4. Strong. “Redundant”: in its Latin sense, “flowing”; in the English sense, “unnecessary” or “unemployed.” 5. Garbage given to slaves as food. 6. The story of how Samson, with divine aid, created a spring in the desert after the battle

with the ass’s jawbone is told in Judges 15.18—-19. 7. Black bile, the melancholy humor, was supposed to have ill effects on the imagination. 8. L.e., there put into effect all the fierce qualities (of torment).

1744

|

JOHN

MILTON

As on entrails, joints, and limbs,

615

With answerable pains, but more intense, Though void of corporal sense! My griefs not only pain me As a lingering disease,

620

Nor less than wounds immedicable

But, finding no redress, ferment and rage; Rankle, and fester, and gangrene,

625

630

635

640

645

650

655

To black mortification.’ Thoughts, my tormentors, armed with daily stings, Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise Dire inflammation which no cooling herb Or med’cinal liquor can assuage, Nor breath of vernal air from snowy alp. Sleep hath forsook and given me o’er To death’s benumbing opium as my only cure; Thence faintings, swoonings of despair, And sense of Heaven's desertion. ! I was his nursling once and choice delight, His destined from the womb, Promised by heavenly message® twice descending. Under his special eye Abstemious | grew up and thrived amain; He led me on to mightiest deeds, Above the here® of mortal arm, Against the uncircumcised, our enemies: But now hath cast me off as never known, And to those cruel enemies,

messenger

sinew, strength

Whom I by his appointment had provoked, Left me all helpless with th’ irreparable loss Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated® The subject of their cruelty or scorn. Nor am I in the list of them that hope; Hopeless are all my evils, all remédiless. This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard, No long petition—speedy death, The close of all my miseries, and the balm. cHorus Many are the sayings of the wise, In ancient and in modern books enrolled, Extolling patience as the truest fortitude, And to the bearing well of all calamities, All chances incident to man’s frail life;

660

Consolatories writ With studied argument, and much persuasion sought, Lenient? of grief and anxious thought. But with th’ afflicted in his pangs their sound Little prevails, or rather seems a tune

9. A medical term for decay. 1, Samson comes close here to suggesting that religious despair is the symptom of a physical

condition. 2. Soothing (from Latin leniens).

continually

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

1745

Harsh, and of dissonant mood? from his complaint, Unless he feel within Some source of consolation from above, 665

Secret refreshings that repair his strength And fainting spirits uphold. God of our fathers! what is man, That thou towards him with hand so various—

670

Or might I say contrarious? Temper’st thy providence through his short course: Not evenly, as thou rul’st The angelic orders, and inferior creatures mute, Irrational and brute.’ Nor do I name of men the common

680

685

rout,

That, wandering loose about, Grow up and perish as the summer fly, Heads without name, no more remembered; But such as thou hast solemnly elected, With gifts and graces eminently adorned, To some great work, thy glory, And people’s safety, which in part they effect. Yet toward these, thus dignified, thou oft, Amidst their height of noon, Changest thy countenance and thy hand, with no regard Of highest favors past From thee on them, or them to thee of service.°

Nor only dost degrade them, or remit To life obscured, which were a fair dismission, 690

But throw’st them lower than thou didst exalt them high, Unseemly falls in human eye, Too grievous for the trespass or omission; Oft leav’st them to the hostile sword Of heathen and profane, their carcasses

695

To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived, Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, And condemnation of the ingrateful multitude.’ If these they scape, perhaps in poverty With sickness and disease thou bow’st them down, Painful diseases-and deformed,

700

705

In crude® old age; Though not disordinate, yet causeless suffering The punishment of dissolute days. In fine,’ Just or unjust alike seem miserable, For oft alike both come to evil end. So deal not with this once thy glorious champion, 3. The musical mode, or psychological mood, of the comforter jars on that of the sufferer. 4. Cf. Job’s answers to his comforters, especially in chapter 14. 5. The Chorus feels that the beings above and below man on the Great Chain of Being (the nine orders of angels above, the mute beasts below) are ruled by a less capricious code than is man,

6. Manoa 368-72).

has already voiced this plaint (lines

7. After the Restoration, many Puritan leaders were executed, jailed, or exiled; even the corpses of some were exhumed, beheaded, and publicly exhibited. 8. Literally, “raw,” but figuratively, “premature.” 9. In short. “Though not disordinate”: i.e., though they have not been dissipated. Milton resented having the gout, supposed to be a disease of the rich.

1746

|

JOHN

MILTON

The image of thy strength, and mighty minister.! What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already! Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn 710

His labors, for thou canst, to peaceful end. But who is this? what thing of sea or land— Female of sex it seems— That, so bedecked, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship

~xI vi

720

Of Tarsus, bound for th’ isles

OfJavan or Gadire,? With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails filled, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play; An amber? scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger, a damsel train behind? Some rich Philistian matron she may seem; And

“I iS)wr

ambergris

now, at nearer view, no other certain

Than Dalila thy wife. SAMSON My wife! my traitress! let her not come near me. cHorus Yet on she moves; now stands and eyes thee fixed, About t’ have spoke; but now, with head declined Like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she weeps, And words addressed seem into tears dissolved,

730

Wetting the borders of her silken veil. But now again she makes address to speak. DALILA With doubtful feet and wavering resolution I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson; Which to have merited, without excuse,

740

I cannot but acknowledge. Yet if tears May expiate (though the fact more evil drew In the perverse event than I foresaw),? My penance hath not slackened, though my pardon No way assured. But conjugal affection, Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt, Hath led me on, desirous to behold Once more thy face, and know of thy estate,°

If aught in my ability may serve

condition

To lighten what thou suffer’st, and appease

Thy mind with what amends is in my power— Though late, yet in some part to recompense My rash but more unfortunate misdeed. SAMSON. Out, out, hyena!* These are thy wonted arts, And arts of every woman false like thee, To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray; 1. Agent, but with a religious connotation as well. 2. Tarsus (the birthplace of St. Paul) is a trading city in modern Turkey. The isles of Javan are the isles of Greece, supposed to be populated by descendants of Javan, son of Noah’s son Japhet.

Gadire is modern Cadiz in Spain. “Ships of Tarshish” is acommon Old Testament emblem of pride

and worldliness (e.g., Isaiah 23, Psalm 48), 3. l.e., my action turned out worse than intended. 4. Apart from being an animal believed to be of unpleasant habits and appearance, the hyena was a traditional beast of hypocrisy, supposed to entice men to destruction by its power of imitating the human voice.

SAMSON

755

AGONISTES

|

1747

Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech, And reconcilement move with feigned remorse, Confess, and promise wonders in her change, Not truly penitent, but chief to try Her husband, how far urged his patience bears, His virtue or weakness which way to assail: Then, with more cautious and instructed skill,

760

Again transgresses, and again submits; That wisest and best men, full oft beguiled, With goodness principled not to reject The penitent, but ever to forgive, Are drawn to wear out miserable days,

765

770

Entangled with a poisonous bosom-snake, If not by quick destruction soon cut off, As I by thee, to ages an example. DALILA. Yet hear me, Samson; not that I endeavor To lessen or extenuate my offense, But that, on th’ other side, if it be weighed By itself, with aggravations not surcharged, Or else with just allowance counterpoised, I may, if possible, thy pardon find The easier towards me, or thy hatred less. First granting, as I do, it was

a weakness

In me, but incident to all our sex, ~I “I wn

Curiosity, inquisitive, importtine

Of secrets, then with like infirmity To publish them, both common female faults; Was it not weakness also to make known,

780

For importunity, that is for naught, Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety? To what I did thou show’dst me first the way. But I to enemies revealed, and should not!

785

Nor should’st thou have trusted that to woman's frailty:° Ere I to thee, thou to thyself wast cruel. Let weakness then with weakness come to parle,°

parley, agreement

So near related, or the same of kind;

790

Thine forgive mine, that men may censure thine The gentler, if severely thou exact not More strength from me than in thyself was found. And what if love, which thou interpret’st hate, The jealousy of love, powerful of sway In human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee,

795

Caused what I did? I saw thee mutable Of fancy; feared lest one day thou would’st leave me, As her at Timna; sought by all means therefore How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest:

No better way I saw than by importuning To learn thy secrets, get into my power 5. Like Eve, who wore down Adam with her insistance, then blamed him for giving in (Paradise Lost 9.1155—61), Dalila blames Samson for doing what

she herself had demanded. Underlying the scene as a whole are the ancient stereotypes and accusations of traditional antifeminism.

1748

800

805

|

JOHN

MILTON

Thy key of strength and safety. Thou wilt say, “Why, then, revealed?” I was assured by those Who tempted me that nothing was designed Against thee but safe custody and hold. That made for me; I knew that liberty Would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises, While I at home sat full of cares and fears,

Wailing thy absence in my widowed bed; Here I should still enjoy thee, day and night, Mine and love’s prisoner, not the Philistines’, 810

Whole to myself, unhazarded abroad, Fearless at home of partners in my love. These reasons in love’s law have passed for good, Though fond? and reasonless to some perhaps;

foolish

And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much woe,

Yet always pity or pardon hath obtained. 815

Be not unlike all others, not austere

As thou art strong, inflexible as steel. If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed, In uncompassionate

anger do not so.

SAMSON How cunningly the sorceress displays Her own transgressions, to upbraid me mine! That malice, not repentance, brought thee hither, By this appears. I gave, thou say’st, th’ example, I led the way—bitter reproach, but true; I to myself was false ere thou to me. Such pardon, therefore, as I give my folly Take to thy wicked deed; which when thou seest Impartial, self-severe, inexorable,

Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather Confess it feigned. Weakness is thy excuse, 830

And I believe it, weakness to resist

Philistian gold. If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide,

Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness; that plea, therefore,

840

With God or man will gain thee no remission. But love constrained thee? Call it furious rage To satisfy thy lust. Love seeks to have love; My love how could’st thou hope, who took’st the way To raise in me inexpiable® hate, Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betrayed? In vain thou striv’st to cover shame with shame,

Or by evasions thy crime uncover’st more. DALILA Since thou determin’st weakness for no plea In man or woman, though to thy own condemning, 845

Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides,

What sieges girt me round, ere I consented; Which might have awed the best-resolved of men, The constantest, to have yielded without blame.

It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay’st,

inextinguishable

SAMSON

850

AGONISTES

1749

That wrought with me.° Thou know’st the magistrates And princes of my country came in person, Solicited, commanded, threatened, urged,

Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty And of religion—pressed how just it was, How honorable, how glorious, to entrap

860

865

875

A common enemy, who had destroyed Such numbers of our nation: and the priest Was not behind, but ever at my ear, Preaching how meritorious with the gods It would be to ensnare an irreligious Dishonorer of Dagon. What had I To oppose against such powerful arguments? Only my love of thee held long debate, And combated in silence all these reasons With hard contést. At length, that grounded maxim, So rife and celebrated in the mouths Of wisest men, that to the public good Private respects must yield,’ with grave authority Took full possession of me, and prevailed; Virtue, as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining. SAMSON I thought where all thy circling wiles would end, In feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy! But had thy love, still odiously pretended, Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. I before all the daughters of my tribe And of my nation chose thee from among My enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew’st; Too well; unbosomed all my secrets to thee,

880

885

890

895

Not out of levity, but overpowered By thy request, who could deny thee nothing; Yet now am judged an enemy. Why then Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband, Then, as since then, thy country’s foe professed? Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave Parents and country; nor was I their subject, Nor under their protection, but my own; Thou mine, not theirs.® If aught against my life Thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly, Against the law of nature, law of nations; No more thy country, but an impious crew Of men conspiring to uphold their state By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends For which our country is a name so dear; Not therefore to be obeyed. But zeal moved thee; To please thy gods thou didst it! Gods unable 6. Judges 16 is explicit that Dalila betrayed Samson for money—eleven hundred pieces of silver offered her by each one of the Philistine lords.

7. Reason

of state, political “necessity,” was

in

Milton’s eyes the worst ofall possible motives for an action (cf. Paradise Lost 4.393—94). 8. I.e., you were under my protection, not theirs.

1750

|

JOHN

MILTON

To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction Of their own deity, gods cannot be; Less therefore to be pleased, obeyed, or feared. These false pretexts and varnished colors failing, Bare in thy guilt, how foul must thou appear!

900

DALILA

In argument

with men

a woman

ever

Goes by the worse,’ whatever be her cause. 905

SAMSON

For want of words, no doubt, or lack of breath!

Witness when I was worried with thy peals. DALILA

I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken

In what I thought would have succeeded best. Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson; Afford me place to show what recompense

910

Towards thee I intend for what I have misdone,

Misguided. Only what remains past cure Bear not too sensibly,' nor still insist To afflict thyself in vain. Though sight be lost, Life yet hath many solaces, enjoyed Where other senses want not their delights

915

At home, in leisure and domestic ease,

Exempt from many a care and chance to which Eyesight exposes, daily, men abroad. I to the lords will intercede, not doubting

920

Their favorable ear, that I may fetch thee From forth this loathsome prison-house, to abide With me, where my redoubled love and care, With nursing diligence, to me glad office, May ever tend about thee to old age, With all things grateful cheered, and so supplied That what by me thou hast lost thou least shalt miss. SAMSON

No, no; of my condition take no care;

It fits not; thou and I long since are twain; Nor think me so unwary or accursed? To bring my feet again into the snare Where once I have been caught. I know thy trains, Though dearly to my cost, thy gins, and toils.’ Thy fair enchanted cup, and warbling charms,

930

935

No more on me have power; their force is nulled; So much of adder’s wisdom I have learnt,

To fence my ear against thy sorceries.* If in my flower of youth and strength, when all men Loved, honored, feared me, thou alone could hate me

Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forgo me,

940

?

How would’st thou use me now, blind, and thereby Deceivable, in most things as a child,

Helpless, thence easily contemned and scorned, 9: 1 2 3

Comes off second best. With too great sensitivity.

reference

I.e., so neglectful or bewitched.

4. Psalms 58.4—5 describes the “deaf adder that stoppeth her ear; which will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely.”

Nets. “Trains”: tricks. “Gins”: snares. The traditional images for female wiles are heightened by

to an

enchanting

cup

and

warbled

charms reminiscent of Homer's Circe (Odyssey 10)

SAMSON

945

950

AGONISTES

|

S|

And last neglected! How would’st thou insult, When I must live uxorious to thy will In perfect thraldom! how again betray me, Bearing my words and doings to the lords To gloss upon, and, censuring, frown or smile!® This jail I count the house of liberty To thine,° whose doors my feet shall never enter. DALILA Let me approach at least, and touch thy hand. SAMSON

Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wake

My sudden rage to tear thee joint byjoint.’ At distance I forgive thee, go with that; 955

960

965

970

Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works It hath brought forth to make thee memorable Among illustrious women, faithful wives; Cherish thy hastened widowhood with the gold Of matrimonial treason: so farewell. DALILA I see thou art implacable, more deaf To prayers than winds and seas. Yet winds to seas Are reconciled at length, and sea to shore: Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages, Eternal tempest never to be calmed. Why do I humble thus myself, and, suing For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate, Bid go with evil omen,® and the brand Of infamy upon my name denounced? To mix with thy concernments I desist Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed,

And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds;? On both his wings, one black, th’ other white,

Bears greatest names in his wild airy flight. My name, perhaps, among the circumcised In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes, To all posterity may stand defamed, With malediction mentioned, and the blot 980

Of falsehood most unconjugal traduced. But in my country, where I most desire, In Ekron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath,

I shall be named among the famousest Of women, sung at solemn festivals, 985

Living and dead recorded, who to save Her country from a fierce destroyer chose Above the faith of wedlock bands; my tomb With odors? visited and annual flowers;

perfumes

Not less renowned than in Mount Ephraim Jael, who, with inhospitable guile,

5. Milton’s hatred of censorship and managed liberty is apparent. “Gloss”: comment.

9. The figure of Fame, in Milton’s youthful poem “On the Fifth of November,” does indeed have a

6. Compared to thine. 7. What Samson might remember, at the touch of Dalila, would lead him to tear her to pieces.

double tongue, one for truth and one for lies. Fame or Rumor was a favorite grotesque allegorical figure in classical poets like Ovid (Metamor-

8. I.e., dismissed with predictions of ill fame.

phoses 12.43ff.) and Virgil (Aeneid 4.173ff.).

WAS. 72

990

|

JOHN

MILTON

Smote Sisera sleeping, through the temples nailed.' Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy The public marks of honor and reward Conferred upon me for the piety Which to my country I was judged to have shown. At this whoever envies or repines,

I leave him to his lot, and like my own. cHorus She's gone, a manifest serpent by her sting Discovered in the end, till now concealed. 1000

1005

1010

SAMSON So let her go. God sent her to debase me, And aggravate my folly, who committed To such a viper his most sacred trust Of secrecy, my safety, and my life. cHorus_ Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offense returning, to regain Love once possessed, nor can be easily Repulsed, without much inward passion’ felt, And secret sting of amorous remorse. SAMSON Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end; Not wedlock-treachery, endangering life. CHORUS

suffering

It is not virtue, wisdom, valor, wit,

Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit That woman’s love can win, or long inherit;° But what it is, hard is to say,

possess

Harder to hit, 1015

Which way soever men refer it (Much like thy riddle, Samson),* in one day

1025

1030

Or seven though one should musing sit. If any of these, or all, the Timnian bride Had not so soon preferred Thy paranymph, worthless to thee compared, Successor in thy bed,? Nor both so loosely disallied Their nuptials,* nor this last so treacherously Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head. Is it for that® such outward ornament Was lavished on their sex, that inward gifts Were left for haste unfinished, judgment scant, Capacity not raised to apprehend Or value what is best In choice, but oftest to affect? the wrong?

because

desire

Or was too much of self-love mixed,

Of constancy no root infixed, That either they love nothing, or not long? Whate’er it be, to wisest men and best, 1035

Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil, 1, Jael lured Sisera, who saw in her the wife of

his ally and friend, into a tent large nail into his head (Judges 2. Samson’s riddle is set forth Judges 14.14, 18. 3. Le., if any of these (virtue,

and there drove a 4.17—21). and answered in etc., lines 1010—

11) sufficed, Samson’s first wife (“the Timnian

bride”) would not have preferred to marry his “paranymph” (best man) (see Judges 14). 4. I.e., nor would both your wives have been so careless about their marriage vows.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

WEDS)

Soft, modest, meek, demure, Once joined, the contrary she proves, a thorn Intestine,’ far within defensive arms 1040

1045

A cleaving® mischief, in his way to virtue Adverse and turbulent; or by her charms Draws him awry, enslaved With dotage, and his sense depraved To folly and shameful deeds, which ruin ends. What pilot so expert but needs must wreck, Embarked with such a steers-mate at the helm? Favored of Heaven who finds

1050

1055

One virtuous, rarely found, That in domestic good combines: Happy that house! his way to peace is smooth: But virtue which breaks through all opposition, And all temptation can remove, Most shines and most is acceptable above. Therefore God’s universal law Gave to the man despotic power Over his female in due awe, Nor from that right to part an hour, Smile she or lour: So shall he least confusion draw

1060

On his whole life, not swayed By female usurpation, nor dismayed. But had we best retire? I see a storm.

1065

SAMSON Fair days have oft contracted’ wind and rain. cHorus But this another kind of tempest brings. SAMSON Be less abstruse; my riddling days are past. cHorus’ Look now for no enchanting voice, nor fear The bait of honeyed words; a rougher tongue Draws hitherward, I know him by his stride,

1070

The giant Harapha® of Gath, his look Haughty, as is his pile? high-built and proud. Comes he in peace? What wind hath blown him hither I less conjecture than when first I saw

The sumptuous Dalila floating this way:' His habit carries peace, his brow defiance. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes. SAMSON 1075

CHORUS HARAPHA

His fraught? we soon shall know: he now arrives. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance,

As these? perhaps, yet wish it had not been, Though for no friendly intent. | am of Gath; Men call me Harapha, of stock renowned 5. An inward thorn, a viper in the bosom. 6. Clinging; a traditional emblem of marriage was the elm and the vine. 7. Drawn after them. 8. Harapha does not appear in the story told in the Book of Judges; Milton invented him with the help of some hints from the image of Goliath in | Samuel 17 and some other giants in 2 Samuel 21. Rapha means “giant” in Hebrew.

9. Body; with the suggestion that he is as tall as a tower.

1. That the various visitors of Samson are blown hither and yon by the winds of occasion serves to emphasize the deep steadiness of Samson’s final resolution.

“Habit”

(next line): garb. (He’s not

dressed for fighting.) 2. Freight, i.e., business. 3. The chorus of Danites.

1754

1080

1085

1090

1095

|

JOHN

MILTON

As Og, or Anak, and the Emims old That Kiriathaim held.t Thou know’st me now, If thou at all art known.’ Much I have heard

Of thy prodigious might and feats performed, Incredible to me, in this displeased, That I was never present on the place Of those encounters, where we might have tried Each other's force in camp or listed field;° And now am come to see of whom such noise Hath walked about, and each limb to survey, If thy appearance answer loud report. SAMSON The way to know were not to see, but taste.° HARAPHA Dost thou already single me? I thought Gyves’ and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune Had brought me to the field where thou art famed To have wrought such wonders with an ass’s jaw!

make trial

I should have forced thee soon wish® other arms,

Or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown; So had the glory of prowess been recovered To Palestine, won by a Philistine 1100

From the unforeskinned race, of whom thou bear’st

The highest name for valiant acts. That honor, Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out. SAMSON 1105

HARAPHA

1110

Boast not of what thou would’st have done, but do

What then thou would’st; thou seest it in thy hand. To combat with a blind man I disdain,

And thou hast need much washing to be touched. SAMSON Such usage as your honorable lords Afford me, assassinated’ and betrayed; Who durst not with their whole united powers In fight withstand me single and unarmed, Nor in the house with chamber ambushes! Close-banded durst attack me, no, not sleeping,

1115

1120

Till they had hired a woman with their gold, Breaking her marriage-faith, to circumvent me. Therefore, without feigned shifts, let be assigned Some narrow place enclosed, where sight may give thee, Or rather flight, no great advantage on me; Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet And brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon, Vant-brace and greaves and gauntlet; add thy spear,

4. Og was a giant king of Bashan in Deuteronomy 3.11; Anak and his sons were giants in Numbers 13.33; the Emims were giants in Deuteronomy 2.10—11 and Genesis 14.5. 5. I.e., you know me now if you know anything; but also, “if you are anyone worth knowing.” Cf. Satan’s brag to Zephon and Ithuriel: “Not to know me argues yourselves unknown” (Paradise Lost 4.830).

6. Lists, tourney ground. “Camp”: field of battle

(from Latin campus).

7. Chains. “Single”: challenge. 8. In the 18th century, editors changed “wish” to “with,” easing the grammar at the expense of the sense, 9. Treacherously assailed, 1. Samson refers to the four occasions on which Philistines hid in his bedroom while Dalila tried unsuccessfully to betray him to them.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

1755

A weaver’s beam,’ and seven-times-folded shield:

I only with an oaken staff will meet thee, And raise such outcries on thy clattered iron,

Which long shall not withhold me from thy head,

1130

1135

That in a little time, while breath remains thee, Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath, to boast Again in safety what thou would’st have done To Samson, but shalt never see Gath more. HARAPHA Thou durst not thus disparage glorious arms, Which greatest heroes have in battle worn, Their ornament and safety, had not spells And black enchantments, some magician’s art, Armed thee or charmed thee strong, which thou from Heaven Feign’dst at thy birth was given thee in thy hair, Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs Were bristles ranged like those that ridge the back

Of chafed wild boars or ruffled porcupines. SAMSON _ I know no spells, use no forbidden arts; 1140

My trust is in the Living God, who gave me At my nativity this strength, diffused No less through all my sinews, joints, and bones,

1145

1150

1155

Than thine, while I preserved these locks unshorn, The pledge of my unviolated vow. For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy god, Go to his temple, invocate his aid With solemnest devotion, spread before him How highly it concerns his glory now To frustrate and dissolve these magic spells, Which I to be the power of Israel’s God Avow, and challenge Dagon to the test, Offering to combat thee, his champion bold, With th’ utmost of his godhead seconded: Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrow Soon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine.

HARAPHA Presume not on thy God. Whate’er he be, Thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut off Quite from his people, and delivered up Into thy enemies’ hand; permitted them 1160

1165

To put out both thine eyes, and fettered send thee Into the common prison, there to grind Among the slaves and asses, thy comrades, As good for nothing else, no better service With those thy boisterous locks; no worthy match For valor to assail, nor by the sword Of noble warrior, so to stain his honor,

But by the barber’s razor best subdued. sAMSON All these indignities, for such they are 2. “Brigandine”: a padded chest-protector, covered with iron scales or rings. “Habergeon”: a coat of mail, a hauberk. “Vant-brace”: a steel cuff for

the forearm. Greaves protect the shins and thighs,

and gauntlets the hands. A weaver’s beam, emblem of weightiness, is used to keep threads hanging tautly in a loom. All these military details are from the description of Goliath, 1 Samuel 17.4—7.

1756

|

JOHN

MILTON

thy people

From thine,° these evils I deserve and more, 1170

Acknowledge them from God inflicted on me Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye

Gracious to readmit the suppliant; In confidence whereof I once again Defy thee to the trial of mortal fight, By combat to decide whose god is God, Thine, or whom I with Israel’s sons adore.

HARAPHA Fair honor that thou dost thy God, in trusting He will accept thee to defend his cause, 1180

A murderer, a revolter, and a robber!

SAMSON ‘Tongue-doughty giant, how dost thou prove me these? HARAPHA Is not thy nation subject to our lords? Their magistrates confessed it when they took thee As a league-breaker, and delivered bound 1185

Into our hands; for hadst thou not committed

Notorious murder on those thirty men? At Ascalon, who never did thee harm,

Then, like a robber, stripp’dst them of their robes? The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league, 1190

1195

Went up with arméd powers thee only seeking, To others did no violence nor spoil. SAMSON Among the daughters of the Philistines I chose a wife, which argued me no foe, And in your city held my nuptial feast; But your ill-meaning politician lords, Under pretense of bridal friends and guests, Appointed to await me thirty spies, Who, threatening cruel death, constrained the bride

1200

To wring from me, and tell to them, my secret, That solved the riddle which I had proposed. When I perceived all set on enmity, As on my enemies, wherever chanced, I used hostility, and took their spoil, To pay my underminers in their coin.

1205

My nation was subjected to your lords!* It was the force of conquest; force with force Is well ejected when the conquered can. But I, a private person, whom

1210

my country

As a league-breaker gave up bound, presumed Single rebellion, and did hostile acts! I was no private,’ but a person raised With strength sufficient, and command from Heaven, To free my country. If their servile minds ’

Me, their deliverer sent, would not receive, But to their masters gave me up for naught, 3. Judges 14.8—20 and 15.9-15 describe the episode. When he came to Timna to be married, Samson proposed a riddle and a bet to the marriage guests; they convinced his intended bride to reveal the riddle, and in revenge, he killed thirty of their people and left the lady to the “paranymph,” or best

man. Old Testament Samson is indeed a rude and savage

figure; Milton,

with characteristic

confi-

dence, undertakes his legal defense in everything. 4. L.e., you argue that my nation was subjected to your lords. 5. l.e., lawless individual.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

St

Th’ unworthier they; whence to this day they serve. I was to do my part from Heaven assigned, And had performed it if my known offense Had not disabled me, not all your force. 1220

These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant,° Though by his blindness maimed for high attempts, Who now defies thee thrice to single fight, As a petty enterprise of small enforce.° HARAPHA

1225

difficulty

With thee, a man condemned, a slave enrolled,

Due by the law to capital punishment? To fight with thee no man of arms will deign. Cam’st thou for this, vain boaster, to survey me, SAMSON To descant on my strength, and give thy verdict?

1230

Come nearer; part not hence so slight informed; But take good heed my hand survey not thee. HARAPHA O Baal-zebub!’ can my ears unused Hear these dishonors, and not render death?

No man withholds thee; nothing from thy hand SAMSON Fear I incurable; bring up thy van;* 1235

1240

My heels are fettered, but my fist is free.

HARAPHA This insolence other kind of answer fits. Go, baffled coward, lest I run upon thee, SAMSON Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast, And with one buffet lay thy structure low, Or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down, To the hazard of thy brains and shattered sides. By Astaroth,’ ere long thou shalt lament HARAPHA These braveries,° in irons loaden on thee.

1245

His giantship is gone somewhat crestfallen, cHorus Stalking with less unconscionable’ strides, And lower looks, but in a sultry chafe. SAMSON I dread him not, nor all his giant brood, Though fame divulge him father of five sons,

boasts excessive

All of gigantic size, Goliath chief. 1250

1255

He will directly to the lords, I fear, cHorus And with malicious counsel stir them up Some way or other yet further to afflict thee. He must allege some cause, and offered fight SAMSON Will not dare mention, lest a question rise Whether he durst accept the offer or not; And that he durst not plain enough appeared. Much more affliction than already felt They cannot well impose, nor I sustain,

1260

If they intend advantage of my labors, The work of many hands, which earns my keeping, With no small profit daily to my owners. 6. L.e., now that we've disposed of these dodges, answer your challenger. “Apellant”: literally, caller, one who calls you out. 7. Baal-zebub is Beélzebub, god of the flies. 8. The vanguard of an army was, naturally, the first group engaged. Samson invites Harapha to start the fight.

9. Moon goddess of the Philistines, consort of Dagon (see Paradise Lost 1.437—46). 1, 2 Samuel 21 describes four giants “born to the giant in Gath” and brothers of Goliath, slain by David's men; Milton makes the identification with Harapha on his own.

[58

1265

|

JOHN

MILTON

But come what will; my deadliest foe will prove My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence; The worst that he can give, to me the best. Yet so it may fall out, because their end Is hate, not help to me, it may with mine Draw their own ruin who attempt the deed. cHorus O how comely it is, and how reviving To the spirits of just men long oppressed, When God into the hands of their deliverer Puts invincible might To quell the mighty of the earth, th’ oppressor, The brute and boisterous force of violent men,

Hardy and industrious to support Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue

The righteous, and all such as honor truth! He all their ammunition And feats of war defeats,” 1280

With plain heroic magnitude of mind And celestial vigor armed; Their armories and magazines’ contemns, Renders them useless, while

With winged expedition® Swift as the lightning glance he executes

haste

His errand on the wicked, who, surprised, Lose their defense, distracted and amazed.

But patience is more oft the exercise Of saints, the trial of their fortitude,

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1300

Making them each his own deliverer, And victor over all That tyranny or fortune can inflict. Either of these is in thy lot,° Samson, with might endued Above the sons of men; but sight bereaved May chance to number thee with those Whom patience finally must crown.* This idol’s day hath been to thee no day of rest, Laboring thy mind More than the working day thy hands. And yet, perhaps, more trouble is behind; For I descry this way Some other tending; in his hand A scepter or quaint® staff he bears,

1305

ornamented

Comes on amain, speed in his look. By his habit I discern him now A public officer, and now at hand. His message will be short and voluble.° OFFICER Hebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek. cHorus’ His manacles remark°® him; there he sits. 2. A touch of Miltonic punning. 3. Storerooms, hence the contents, military stores. 4. The Christian tragedy, like the Christian epic, must center ultimately on an act of passive, not

fate

to the point distinguish

active, fortitude. It is the special achievement of Samson to combine in a single dramatic action both qualities. ;

SAMSON

1310

1315

|

LHA5:9

OFFICER Samson, to thee our lords thus bid me say: This day to Dagon is a solemn feast, With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games; Thy strength they know surpassing human rate, And now some public proof thereof require To honor this great feast, and great assembly. Rise, therefore, with all speed, and come along, Where I will see thee heartened and fresh clad, To appear as fits before th’ illustrious lords. SAMSON

1320

AGONISTES

Thou know’st I am an Hebrew; therefore tell them

Our Law forbids at their religious rites

My presence; for that cause I cannot come.

1330

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1350

OFFICER This answer, be assured, will not content them. SAMSON Have they not sword-players, and every sort Of gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners, Jugglers and dancers, antics, mummers,* mimics, But they must pick me out, with shackles tired, And over-labored at their public mill, To make them sport with blind activity? Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels, On my refusal, to distress me more, Or make a game of my calamities? Return the way thou cam’st; I will not come. OFFICER Regard thyself; this will offend them highly. SAMSON Myself? my conscience, and internal peace. Can they think me so broken, so debased With corporal servitude, that my mind ever Will condescend to such absurd commands? Although their drudge, to be their fool orjester, And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief To show them feats, and play before their god, The worst of all indignities, yet on me Joined° with supreme contempt! I will not come. OFFICER My message was imposed on me with speed, Brooks no delay: is this thy resolution? SAMSON _ So take it with what speed thy message needs. OFFICER | am sorry what this stoutness° will produce. SAMSON Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow indeed. cHorus Consider, Samson; matters now are strained Up to the height, whether to hold or break. He’s gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame? Expect another

i355

message,

more

imperious,

More lordly thundering than thou well wilt bear. SAMSON Shall I abuse this consecrated gift Of strength, again returning with my hair After my great transgression, so requite

Favor renewed, and add a greater sin By prostituting holy things to idols, A Nazarite in place abominable 5. Actors. “Gymnic artists”: gymnasts. “Antics”: clowns.

enjoined, ordered

defiance

1760

1360

|

JOHN

MILTON

Vaunting my strength in honor to their Dagon? Besides how vile, contemptible, ridiculous,

What act more execrably unclean,’ profane?

taboo

cHorus Yet with this strength thou serv’st the Philistines, Idolatrous, uncircumcised, unclean. 1365

1370

1375

samson Not in their idol-worship, but by labor Honest and lawful to deserve my food Of those who have me in their civil power. cHorus Where the heart joins not, outward acts defile not. SAMSON Where outward force constrains, the sentence holds:° But who constrains me to the temple of Dagon,

Not dragging? The Philistian lords command: Commands are no constraints. If |obey them, I do it freely, venturing to displease God for the fear of man, and man prefer, Set God behind; which, in his jealousy, Shall never, unrepented, find forgiveness. Yet that he may dispense with me, or thee,

1380

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Present in temples at idolatrous rites For some important cause,’ thou need’st not doubt. cHorus How thou wilt here come off surmounts my reach. sAMSON __Be of good courage; I begin to feel Some rousing motions in me which dispose To something extraordinary my thoughts. I with this messenger will go along— Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonor Our Law or stain my vow of Nazarite.

If there be aught of presage in the mind, This day will be remarkable in my life By some great act, or of my days the last.® cHorus In time thou hast resolved: the man returns. OFFICER

1395

Samson, this second message from our lords

To thee I am bid say: Art thou our slave, Our captive, at the public mill our drudge, And dar’st thou, at our sending and command, Dispute thy coming? Come without delay; Or we shall find such engines to assail And hamper thee, as thou shalt come of force, Though thou wert firmlier fastened than a rock. SAMSON _ I could be well content to try their art,

1400

1405

Which to no few of them would prove pernicious; Yet, knowing their advantages too many, Because® they shall not trail me through their streets Like a wild beast, I am content to go. Masters’ commands come with a power resistless To such as owe them absolute subjection; 6. I.e., where

outward

force

constrains,

your

maxim is right. 7. God will make a special dispensation for Samson to attend idolatrous ceremonies “for some important cause,’ which Samson cannot yet

so that

define but which he intuits.

8. By a classic device of dramatic irony, Samson proposes as alternatives two events that will both simultaneously come true. “Presage”: premonition, presight.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

1761

And for a life who will not change his purpose? (So mutable are all the ways of men!)

1410

1415

Yet this be sure, in nothing to comply Scandalous or forbidden in our Law. OFFICER I praise thy resolution. Doff these links:° By this compliance thou wilt win the lords To favor, and perhaps to set thee free. SAMSON Brethren, farewell. Your company along I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them ‘To see me girt with friends; and how the sight Of me, as of a common enemy,

So dreaded once, may now exasperate them I know not. Lords are lordliest in their wine; 1420

And the well-feasted priest then soonest fired With zeal, if aught religion seem concerned;! No less the people, on their holy-days, Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable. Happen what may, of me expect to hear Nothing dishonorable, impure, unworthy Our God, our Law, my nation, or myself;

1430

The last of me or no I cannot warrant. cHoruS_ Go, and the Holy One Of Israel be thy guide To what may serve his glory best, and spread his name Great among the heathen round; Send thee the angel of thy birth, to stand

1435

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1450

Fast by thy side, who from thy father’s field Rode up in flames after his message told Of thy conception, and be now a shield Of fire; that Spirit that first rushed on thee In the camp of Dan, Be efficacious in thee now at need!? For never was from Heaven imparted Measure of strength so great to mortal seed As in thy wondrous actions hath been seen. But wherefore comes old Manoa in such haste With youthful steps? Much livelier than erewhile He seems: supposing here to find his son, Or of him bringing to us some glad news? MANOA Peace with you, brethren! My inducement hither Was not at present here to find my son, By order of the lords new parted hence To come and play before them at their feast. I heard all as I came; the city rings, And numbers thither flock: I had no will,

Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly. But that which moved my coming now was chiefly 9. Take off these chains. “Resolution”: decision. 1. Milton’s animus against paid priests, whom he considered particularly likely to contaminate the Word of God with their own private interests

and worldly desires, comes out plainly here. 2. As a Nazarite (specially consecrated person), Samson had been frequently inspired by the “Spirit of the Lord.”

1762

1455

1460

|

JOHN

MILTON

To give ye part with me? what hope I have With good success to work his liberty. CHORUS That hope would much rejoice us to partake With thee. Say, reverend sire; we thirst to hear. MANOA _I have attempted, one by one, the lords, Either at home, or through the high street passing, With supplication prone and father’s tears, To accept of ransom for my son, their prisoner. Some much averse I found, and wondrous harsh,

Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite; That part most reverenced Dagon and his priests: Others more moderate seeming, but their aim 1465

Private reward, for which both God and State

They More They Their 1470

easily would set to sale: a third generous far and civil, who confessed had enough revenged, having reduced foe to misery beneath their fears;

The rest was magnanimity to remit,

If some convenient ransom were proposed.* What noise or shout was that? It tore the sky. cHorus Doubtless the people shouting to behold Their once great dread, captive and blind before them,

1475

Or at some proof of strength before them shown. MANOA

His ransom, if my whole inheritance

May compass it, shall willingly be paid And numbered down. Much rather I shall choose To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest

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1485

1490

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1500

And he in that calamitous prison left. No, I am fixed not to part hence without him. For his redemption all my patrimony, If need be, I am ready to forgo And quit. Not wanting him, I shall want nothing. CHORUS Fathers are wont to lay up for their sons: Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all; Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age: Thou in old age car’st how to nurse thy son, Made older than thy age through eyesight lost. MANOA It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, And view him sitting in the house, ennobled With all those high exploits by him achieved, And on his shoulders waving down those locks That of a nation armed the strength contained. And I persuade me God hath not permitted His strength again to grow up with his hair Garrisoned round about him like a camp Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose To use him further yet in some great service— Not to sit idle with so great a gift 3. L.e., to impart to you. : 4. The three parties are in effect bigots, swindlers, and gentlemen—types common enough in

Restoration England, with whom Milton and the defeated Puritans had frequently to deal.

SAMSON

AGONISTES

|

1763

Useless, and thence ridiculous, about him.>

1505

1510

And since his strength with eyesight was not lost, God will restore him eyesight to° his strength. CHORUS Thy hopes are not ill-founded, nor seem vain, Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon Conceived, agreeable to a father’s love; In both which we, as next,° participate. MANOA I know your friendly minds, and—O what noise! Mercy of Heaven! what hideous noise was that? Horribly loud, unlike the former shout. CHORUS Noise call you it, or universal groan, As if the whole inhabitation perished?

in proportion to

as kinsmen

Blood, death, and deathful deeds are in that noise, 1515

1520

Ruin,° destruction at the utmost point. Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise. Oh! it continues; they have slain my son. cHorus Thy son is rather slaying them; that outcry From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. MANOA Some dismal accident it needs must be. What shall we do, stay here, or run and see? CHORUS Best keep together here, lest running thither We unawares run into danger’s mouth. MANOA

This evil on the Philistines is fallen:

From whom could else a general cry be heard? The sufferers then will scarce molest us here; From other hands we need not much to fear.

What if, his eyesight (for to Israel’s God Nothing is hard) by miracle restored, He now be dealing dole’? among his foes,

And over heaps of slaughtered walk his way? MANOA That were a joy presumptuous to be thought. Yet God hath wrought things as incredible CHORUS For his people of old; what hinders now? MANOA 1535

1540

He can, I know, but doubt to think he will;

Yet hope would fain subscribe, and tempts belief. A little stay will bring some notice hither. Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner; CHORUS For evil news rides post, while good news baits.* And to our wish I see one hither speeding— An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe. O whither shall I run, or which way fly MESSENGER? The sight of this so horrid spectacle, Which erst° my eyes beheld, and yet behold? For dire imagination still pursues me. 5. Much of the play deals with the concept of relevance and irrelevance; outward weapons and outward strength are often beside the point (“ridiculous”) in the face of inward and spiritual powers. 6. From Latin ruina, downfall.

7. Grief, pain, with perhaps a pun on “dole,” that which is handed out.

just now

8. Pauses to renew (“bait”) the horses. 9. Greek tragedy forbade the representation on stage of actual bloodshed; a messenger is, therefore, a frequent figure at the end of these plays, arriving posthaste from the scene of the final catastrophe, to deliver in a long set speech a descriptive report.

1764

|

JOHN

MILTON

But providence or instinct of nature seems,

Or reason, though disturbed, and scarce consulted, To have guided me aright, | know not how, To thee first, reverend Manoa, and to these

My countrymen, whom here I knew remaining, 1550

As at some distance from the place of horror,

So! in the sad event too much concerned. MANOA The accident was loud, and here before thee With rueful cry; yet what it was we hear not.

No preface needs; thou seest we long to know. 1555

MESSENGER It would burst forth; but I recover breath, And sense distract, to know well what I utter.

MANOA Tell us the sum; the circumstance defer. MESSENGER Gaza yet stands; but all her sons are fallen, All in a moment overwhelmed and fallen. 1560

MANOA

Sad, but thou know’st to Israelites not saddest,

The desolation of a hostile city. MESSENGER Feed on that first; there may in grief be surfeit. MANOA Relate by whom. MESSENGER

1565

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1580

By Samson.

MANOA That still lessens The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. MESSENGER Ah! Manoa, | refrain too suddenly To utter what will come at last too soon, Lest evil tidings, with too rude irruption Hitting thy aged ear, should pierce too deep. MANOA _ Suspense in news is torture; speak them out. MESSENGER ‘Then take the worst in brief: Samson is dead. MANOA The worst indeed! O all my hope’s defeated To free him hence! but Death who sets all free Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge. What windy? joy this day had I conceived, Hopeful of his delivery, which now proves Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring Nipped with the lagging rear of winter's frost! Yet ere I give the reins to grief, say first How died he; death to life is crown or shame. All by him fell, thou say’st; by whom fell he? What glorious hand gave Samson his death’s wound? MESSENGER Unwounded of his enemies he fell. MANOA Wearied with slaughter, then, or how? Explain. MESSENGER By his own hands. MANOA Self-violence! What cause Brought him so soon at variance with himself Among his foes? MESSENGER _ Inevitable cause At once both to destroy and be destroyed. The edifice, where all were met to see him,

Upon their heads and on his own he pulled. 1, The construction “as ...so...” is equivalent to “though... yet... .” 2. I.e., there may be all too much grief to follow.

empty, talky

SAMSON

1590

1595

AGONISTES

|

es)

MANOA O lastly over-strong against thyself! A dreadful way thou took’st to thy revenge. More than enough we know; but while things yet Are in confusion, give us, if thou canst, Eyewitness of what first or last was done, Relation more particular and distinct. MESSENGER Occasions drew me early to this city; And as the gates I entered with sunrise, The morning trumpets festival proclaimed

1600

1605

1610

Through each high street. Little I had dispatched, When all abroad was rumored that this day Samson should be brought forth, to show the people Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games. I sorrowed at his captive state, but minded Not to be absent at that spectacle. The building was a spacious theater, Half round on two main pillars vaulted high, With seats where all the lords, and each degree Of sort,° might sit in order to behold; The other side was open, where the throng On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand:* I among these aloof obscurely stood. The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice

of rank

Had filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, 1615

When to their sports they turned. Immediately Was Samson as a public servant brought, In their state livery clad: before him pipes And timbrels;° on each side went arméd guards;

tambourines

Both horse and foot before him and behind,

Archers and slingers, cataphracts’ and spears. At sight of him the people with a shout Rifted the air, clamoring their god with praise, Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall. He, patient but undaunted, where they led him, Came to the place; and what was set before him, 1625

Which without help of eye might be essayed, To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed All with incredible, stupendous force,

None daring to appear antagonist. 1630

At length for intermission sake they led him Between the pillars; he his guide requested (For so from such as nearer stood we heard), As over-tired, to let him lean a while

With both his arms on those two massy pillars, That to the archéd roof gave main support. 1635

He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson Felt in his arms, with head a while inclined,

And eyes fast fixed he stood, as one who prayed, 4. The temple at Gaza comprised a covered pavilion or shell for the gentry, semicircular in shape and supported at the center of the semicircle by two pillars; on the open side, under the hot sun,

and behind the stage, as it were, stood the common people. 5. Armored horsemen on armored horses.

1766

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|

JOHN

MILTON

Or some great matter in his mind revolved: At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud: “Hitherto, Lords, what your commands imposed I have performed, as reason was, obeying, Not without wonder or delight beheld; Now of my own accord such other trial I mean to show you of my strength yet greater As with amaze shall strike all who behold.” This uttered, straining all his nerves,° he bowed;

1650

muscles

As with the force of winds and waters pent When mountains tremble,° those two massy pillars With horrible convulsion to and fro He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew The whole roof after them with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath, Lords, ladies, captains, counselors, or priests,

1655

Their choice nobility and flower, not only Of this, but each Philistian city round, Met from all parts to solemnize this feast. Samson, with these immixed, inevitably Pulled down the same destruction on himself; The vulgar® only 'scaped, who stood without.

1660

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1670

1675

1680

common

people

CHORUS O dearly bought revenge, yet glorious! Living or dying thou hast fulfilled The work for which thou wast foretold To Israel, and now li’st victorious Among thy slain self-killed; Not willingly, but tangled in the fold Of dire Necessity,’ whose law in death conjoined Thee with thy slaughtered foes, in number more Than all thy life had slain before. SEMICHORUS® While their hearts were jocund and sublime, Drunk with idolatry, drunk with wine And fat regorged? of bulls and goats, Chaunting their idol, and preferring Before our living Dread, who dwells In Silo, his bright sanctuary,! Among them he a spirit of frenzy sent, Who hurt their minds, And urged them on with mad desire To call in haste for their destroyer.

They, only set on sport and play, Unweetingly° importuned Their own destruction to come speedy upon them. So fond are mortal men, Fallen into wrath divine,

unwittingly

As their own ruin on themselves to invite, 6. Earthquakesin Milton's day were supposed to be caused by escaping winds and waters imprisoned (“pent”) beneath the earth, 7. Samson must not be supposed guilty of suicide (see lines 1586-87). 8. In classical theater a chorus

was

commonly

split in two parts, their speeches to be recited alternately. 9. Greedily devoured. “Jocund and sublime”: joyous and exalted. 1. Shiloh, where the Israelites established their tabernacle (Joshua

18.1).

SAMSON

1685

|

1767

Insensate left, or to sense reprobate, And with blindness internal? struck. SEMICHORUS

1690

AGONISTES

But he, though blind of sight,

Despised, and thought extinguished quite, With inward eyes illuminated, His fiery virtue roused From under ashes into sudden flame,

And as an evening dragon? came, Assailant on the perchéd roosts And nests in order ranged 1695

1700

1705

Of tame villatic* fowl, but as an eagle

His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads. So Virtue, given for lost,* Depressed and overthrown, as seemed, Like that self-begotten bird,° In the Arabian woods°® That no second knows nor third, And lay erewhile a holocaust,’ From out her ashy womb now teemed, Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most When most unactive deemed; And, though her body die, her fame survives, A secular® bird, ages of lives. MANOA

1710

enclosed, hidden

Come, come; no time for lamentation now,

Nor much more cause. Samson hath quit® himself Like Samson, and heroicly hath finished

acquitted

A life heroic, on his enemies

Fully revenged; hath left them years of mourning And lamentation to the sons of Caphtor? Through all Philistian bounds; to Israel 1715

Honor hath left and freedom, let but them

Find courage to lay hold on this occasion; To himself and father’s house eternal fame;

1720

And, which is best and happiest yet, all this With God not parted from him, as was feared, But favoring and assisting to the end. Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair,

29.

And what may quiet us in a death so noble. Let us go find the body where it lies Soaked in his enemies’ blood, and from the stream

With lavers® pure and cleansing herbs wash off The clotted gore. I, with what speed the while' (Gaza is not in plight to say us nay), 2. The play accomplishes itself by showing the internal blindness of the Philistines at the very moment of Samson's spiritual illumination. 3. Serpent (from Latin draco). 4. Farmyard (from Latin villaticus).

5. Given up for lost. “Bolted”: cast as a thunderbolt. 6. The mythical phoenix begets itself out of its

basins

own ashes; it is unique, in that there is only one phoenix alive at any one time, and it lives in the scrubland of Arabia. 7. Asacrifice burned whole on the altar. 8. Living through the centuries (Latin saecula). 9. In Amos 9.7 the Philistines are described as immigrants from Caphtor (perhaps Crete). 1. [.e., with what speed (I may) in the meanwhile.

1768

|

JOHN

MILTON

Will send for all my kindred, all my friends,

To fetch him hence and solemnly attend, With silent obsequy and funeral train, Home to his father’s house. There will I build him

A monument, and plant it round with shade Of laurel ever green and branching palm,’ With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolled

1740

In copious legend, or sweet lyric song. Thither shall all the valiant youth resort, And from his memory inflame their breasts To matchless valor and adventures high; The virgins also shall, on feastful days, Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailing His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice, From whence captivity and loss of eyes. cHorus? All is best, though we oft doubt What th’ unsearchable dispose® Of Highest Wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close.

disposition

Oft he seems to hide his face, 1750

1755

But unexpectedly returns, And to his faithful champion hath in place* Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns, And all that band them to resist His uncontrollable intent. His servants he, with new acquist° Of true experience from this great event,

acquisition

With peace and consolation hath dismissed, And calm of mind, all passion spent. 1671

2. Leaves of laurel were worn by civic conquer-

ors on triumphal occasions; wreaths of palm were given to victors in the Olympic games. Samson, as both an athletic victor in his agon

and the savior of his people, gets both. 3. The final chorus of the play is cast in the rhyme pattern of a sonnet. 4. On this very spot, at this very instant.

APPENDIXES

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RENUARIANRNNENS

General

Bibliography

This bibliography consists of a list of suggested general readings on English literature. Bibliographies for the authors in The Norton Anthology of English Literature are available online in the NAEL Archive (digital.wwnorton.com/englishlit]O0abe and digital. wwnorton.com/englishlit10def).

Suggested General Readings Histories of England and of English Literature Even the most distinguished of the comprehensive general histories written in past generations have come to seem outmoded. Innovative research in social, cultural, and political history has made it difficult to write a single coherent account of England from the Middle Ages to the present, let alone to accommodate in a unified narrative the complex histories of Scotland,

Ireland, Wales, and the other nations

where writing in English has flourished. Readers who wish to explore the historical matrix out of which the works of literature collected in this anthology emerged are advised to consult the studies of particular periods listed in the appropriate sections of this bibliography. The multivolume Oxford History of England and New Oxford History of England are useful, as are the three-volume Peoples of the British Isles: A New History, ed. Stanford Lehmberg, 1992; the nine-volume Cambridge Cultural History of Britain, ed. Boris Ford, 1992; the three-volume Cambridge Social History of Britain, 1750-1950, ed. F. M. L. Thompson, 1992; and the multivolume Penguin History of Britain, gen. ed. David Cannadine, 1996—. For Britain’s imperial history, readers can consult the five-volume Oxford History of the British Empire, ed. Roger Louis, 1998-99, as well as Gender and Empire, ed. Philippa Levine, 2004. Given the cultural centrality of London, readers may find particular interest in The London Encyclopaedia, ed. Ben Weinreb et al., 3rd ed., 2008; Roy Porter, London: A Social History,

1994; and Jerry White, London in the Nineteenth Century: “A Human Awful Wonder of God,” 2007, and London in the Twentieth Century: A City and Its People, 2001. Similar observations may be made about literary history. In the light of such initiatives as women’s studies, new historicism, and postcolonialism, the range of authors deemed significant has expanded, along with the geographical and conceptual boundaries of literature in English. Attempts to capture in a unified account the great sweep of literature from Beowulf to the early twenty-first century have largely given way to studies of individual genres, carefully delimited time periods, and specific authors. For these more focused accounts, see the listings by period. Among the large-scale literary surveys, The Cambridge Guide to Literature in English, 3rd ed., 2006, is useful, as is the nine-volume Penguin History of Literature, 1993-94. The Feminist Companion to Literature in English, ed. Virginia Blain, Isobel Grundy, and Patricia Clements, 1990, is an important resource, and the editorial materials in The

Norton Anthology of Literature by Women, 3rd ed., 2007, eds. Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar, constitute a concise history and set of biographies of women authors since the Middle Ages. Annals of English Literature, 1475—1950, rev. 1961, lists impor-

tant publications year by year, together with the significant literary events for each year. Six volumes have been published in the Oxford English Literary History, gen. ed. Jonathan Bate, 2002—: Laura Ashe, 1000-1350: Conquest and Transformation, A3

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GENERAL

BIBLIOGRAPHY

James Simpson, 1350-1547: Reform and Cultural Revolution; Philip Davis, 1830— 1880: The Victorians; Chris Baldick, 1830-1880: The Modern Movement; Randall Stevenson, 1960-2000: The Last of England?; and Bruce King, 1948-2000: The

Internationalization of English Literature. See also The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, ed. David Wallace, 1999; The Cambridge History of Early Medieval English Literature, ed. Clare E. Lees, 2012; The Cambridge History of Early Modern English Literature, ed. David Loewenstein and Janel Mueller, 2003;

The Cambridge History of English Literature, 1660-1780, ed. John Richetti, 2005; The Cambridge History of English Romantic Literature, ed. James Chandler, 2009; The Cambridge History of Victorian Literature, ed. Kate Flint, 2012; and The Cambridge History of Twentieth-Century English Literature, ed. Laura Marcus and Peter Nicholls, 2005. Helpful treatments and surveys of English meter, rhyme, and stanza forms are Paul Fussell Jr., Poetic Meter and Poetic Form, rev. 1979; Donald Wesling, The Chances of Rhyme: Device and Modernity, 1980; Charles O. Hartman, Free Verse: An

Essay in Prosody, 1983; John Hollander, Rhyme’s Reason: A Guide to English Verse, rev. 1989; Derek Attridge, Poetic Rhythm: An Introduction, 1995; Robert Pinsky, The Sounds of Poetry: A Brief Guide, 1998; Mark Strand and Eavan Boland, eds., The Making ofaPoem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms, 2000; Helen Vendler, Poems, Poets, Poetry, 3rd ed., 2010; Virginia Jackson and Yopie Prins, eds., The Lyric Theory Reader, 2013; and Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric, 2015. On the development and functioning of the novel as a form, see lan Watt, The

Rise ofthe Novel, 1957; Gérard Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method, 1980; Theory of the Novel: A Historical Approach, ed. Michael McKeon, 2000; McKeon, The Origins of the English Novel, 1600-1740, 15th anniversary ed., 2002;

and The Novel, ed. Franco Moretti, 2 vols., 2006-07. The Cambridge History of the English Novel, eds. Robert L. Caserio and Clement Hawes, 2012; A Companion to the English Novel, eds. Stephen Arata et al., 2015; eight volumes have been published from The Oxford History of the Novel in English, 2011-16. On women noyelists and readers, see Nancy Armstrong, Desire and Domestic Fiction: A Political History of the Novel, 1987; and Catherine Gallagher, Nobody's Story: The Vanishing Acts of Women Writers in the Marketplace, 1670-1820,

1994.

On the history of playhouse design, see Richard Leacroft, The Development of the English Playhouse: An Illustrated Survey of Theatre Building in England from Medieval to Modern Times, 1988. For a survey of the plays that have appeared on these and other stages, see Allardyce Nicoll, British Drama, rev. 1962; the eightvolume Revels History of Drama in English, gen. eds. Clifford Leech and T. W. Craik, 1975—83; and Alfred Harbage, Annals of English Drama, 975—1700, 3rd ed.,

1989, rev. S. Schoenbaum and Sylvia Wagonheim; and the three volumes of The Cambridge History of British Theatre, eds. Jane Milling, Peter Thomson, and Joseph Donohue, 2004.

On some of the key intellectual currents that are at once reflected in and shaped by literature and contemporary literary criticism, Arthur O. Lovejoy’s classic studies The Great Chain of Being, 1936, and Essays in the History of Ideas, 1948, remain valuable, along with such works as Georg Simmel, The Philosophy of Money, 1907; Lovejoy and George Boas, Primitivism and Related Ideas in Antiquity, 1935; Norbert Elias, The Civilizing Process, orig. pub. 1939, English trans. 1969; Simone de Beau-

voir, The Second Sex, 1949; Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, 1952, new trans.

2008; Ernst Cassirer, The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, 4 vols., 1953—96; Ernst Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology, 1957, new ed. 1997; Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition,

1958; Richard Popkin, The

History of Skepticism from Erasmus to Descartes, 1960; M. H. Abrams, Natural

Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in Romantic Literature, 1971; Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age ofReason, Eng.

GENERAL

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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A5

trans. 1965, and The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, Eng. trans. 1970; Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, Eng. trans. 1969; Martin Jay,

The Dialectical Imagination: A History of the Frankfurt School and the Institute of Social Research, 1923-1950, 1973, new ed. 1996; Hayden White, Metahistory, 1973; Roland Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text, Eng. trans. 1975; Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, Eng. trans. 1976, and Dissemination, Eng. trans. 1981; Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, 1979; Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 1980; Raymond Williams, Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society, rev. 1983; Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste, Eng. trans. 1984; Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, Eng. trans. 1984; Hans Blumenberg, The Legitimacy of the Modern Age, Eng. trans. 1985; Jiirgen Habermas, The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity, Eng. trans, 1987; Slavoj Zizek, The Sublime Object ofIdeology, 1989; Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture, 1994; Judith Butler, The Psychic Life of Power: Theories in Subjection, 1997; and Sigmund Freud, Writings on Art and Literature, ed. Neil Hertz, 1997.

Reference Works The single most important tool for the study of literature in English is the Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed. 1989, 3rd ed. in process. The most current edition is available online to subscribers. The OED is written on historical principles: that is, it attempts not only to describe current word use but also to record the history and development of the language from its origins before the Norman conquest to the present. It thus provides, for familiar as well as archaic and obscure words, the widest possible range of meanings and uses, organized chronologically and illustrated with quotations. The OED can be searched as a conventional dictionary arranged a—z and also by subject, usage, region, origin, and timeline (the first appearance of a word). Beyond the OED there are many other valuable dictionaries, such as The American Heritage Dictionary (5th ed., 2016), The Oxford Dictionary of Abbreviations, The Concise Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology, The Oxford Dictionary of English Grammar, A New Dictionary of Eponyms, The Oxford Essential Dictionary of Foreign Terms in English, The Oxford Dictionary of Idioms, The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Linguistics, The Oxford Guide to World English, and The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs. Other valuable reference works include The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language, 2nd ed., ed. David Crystal, 2003; The Concise Oxford Companion to the English Language; Pocket Fowler's Modern English Usage; and the numerous guides to specialized vocabularies, slang, regional dialects, and the like. There is a steady flow of new editions of most major and many minor writers in English, along with a ceaseless outpouring of critical appraisals and scholarship. James L. Harner’s Literary Research Guide: An Annotated List of Reference Sources in English Literary Studies (6th ed., 2009; online ed. available to subscribers at www.mlalrg.org/public) offers thorough, evaluative annotations of a wide range of sources. For the historical record of scholarship and critical discussion, The New

Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature, ed. George Watson, 5 vols. (1969-77) and The Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature, 3rd ed., 5 vols. (1941-2000) are useful. The MLA International Bibliography (also online) is a key resource for following critical discussion of literatures in English. Ranging from 1926 to the present; it includes journal articles, essays, chapters from collections, books, and

dissertations, and covers folklore, linguistics, and film. The Annual Bibliography of English Language and Literature (ABELL), compiled by the Modern Humanities Research Association, lists monographs, periodical articles, critical editions of literary works, book reviews, and collections of essays published anywhere in the

world; unpublished doctoral dissertations are covered for the period 1920—99

A6

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GENERAL

BIBLIOGRAPHY

(available online to subscribers and as part of Literature Online, http://literature.

proquest.com/marketing/index.jsp). For compact biographies of English authors, see the multivolume Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (DNB), ed. H. C. G. Matthew and Brian Harrison,

2004; since 2004 the DNB has been extended online with three annual updates. Handy reference books of authors, works, and various literary terms and allusions include many volumes in the Cambridge Companion and Oxford Companion series (e.g., The Cambridge Companion to Narrative, ed David Herman, 2007; The Oxford Companion to English Literature, ed. Dinah Birch, rev. 2016; The Cambridge Companion to Allegory, ed. Rita Copeland and Peter Struck, 2010; etc.). Likewise, The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, ed. Roland Greene and others, 4th ed., is available online to subscribers in ProQuest Ebook Central. Handbooks that define and illustrate literary concepts and terms are The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory, ed. J. A.Cuddon and M. A. R. Habib, 5th ed., 2015; William Harmon, A Handbook to Literature, 12th ed., 2011; Critical Terms for Literary Study, ed. Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin, rev. 1995; and M. H. Abrams and Geoffrey Harpham, A Glossary of Literary Terms, 11th ed., 2014. Also useful are Richard

Lanham, A Handlist of Rhetorical Terms, 2nd ed., 2012; Arthur Quinn, Figures of Speech: 60 Ways to Turn a Phrase, 1995; and the Barnhart

Concise Dictionary of Etymology, ed. Robert K. Barnhart, 1995; and George Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric, 2009. On the Greek and Roman backgrounds, see The Cambridge History of Classical Literature (vol, 1: Greek Literature, 1982; vol. 2: Latin Literature, 1989), both available online; The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature, ed. M. C. Howatson,

3rd ed., 2011; Gian Biagio Conte, Latin Literature: A History, 1994; The Oxford Classical Dictionary, 4th ed., 2012; Richard Rutherford, Classical Literature: A Concise History, 2005; and Mark P. O. Morford, Robert J. Lenardon, and Michael Sham,

Classical Mythology, 10th ed., 2013. The Loeb Classical Library of Greek and Roman texts is now available online to subscribers at www.loebclassics.com. Digital resources in the humanities have vastly proliferated since the previous edition of The Norton Anthology of English Literature and are continuing to grow rapidly. The NAEL Archive (accessed at digital.wwnorton.com/englishlitlOabe and digital wwnorton.com/englishlitlOdef) is the gateway to an extensive array of annotated texts, images, and other materials especially gathered for the readers of this anthology. Among other useful electronic resources for the study of English literature are enormous digital archives, available to subscribers: Early English Books Online (EEBO), http://eebo.chadwyck.com/home; Literature Online, http://literature.proquest.com/ marketing/index.jsp; and Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO), www.gale .com/primary-sources/eighteenth-century-collections-online. There are also numerous free sites of variable quality. Many of the best of these are period or author specific and hence are listed in the period/author bibiliographies in the NAEL Archive. Among the general sites, one of the most useful and wide-ranging is Voice of the Shuttle (http://vos.ucsb.edu), which includes in its aggregation links to Bartleby.com and Project Gutenberg.

Literary Criticism and Theory Nine volumes of the Cambridge History of Literary Criticism have been published, 1989— : Classical Criticism, ed. George A. Kennedy; The Middle Ages, ed. Alastair Minnis and Ian Johnson; The Renaissance, ed. Glyn P. Norton; The Eighteenth

Century, ed. H. B. Nisbet and Claude Rawson; Romanticism, ed. Marshall Brown: The Nineteenth Century ca. 1830—1914, ed. M. A. R. Habib; Modernism and the New Criticism, ed. A. Walton Litz, Louis Menand, and Lawrence Rainey; From Formalism to Poststructuralism, ed. Raman Selden; and Twentieth-Century Historical, Philosoph-

GENERAL

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ical, and Psychological Perspectives, ed. Christa Knellwolf and Christopher See also M. H. Abrams, The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Tradition, 1953; William K. Wimsatt and Cleanth Brooks, Literary Criticism: History, 1957; René Wellek, A History of Modern Criticism: 1750-1950, 1955—93; Frank Lentricchia, After the New Criticism, 1980; and J. Hillis On Literature, 2002. Raman

Selden, Peter Widdowson,

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A7

Norris. Critical A Short 9 vols., Miller,

and Peter Brooker have

written A Reader's Guide to Contemporary Literary Theory, 5th ed., 2015. Other useful resources include The Johns Hopkins Guide to Literary Theory and Criticism, 2nd ed., 2004; Literary Theory, an Anthology, eds. Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan, 1998; and The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism, 3rd ed., gen. ed. Vincent Leitch, 2018.

Modern approaches to English literature and literary theory were shaped by certain landmark works: William Empson, Seven Types of Ambiguity, 1930, 3rd ed. 1953, Some Versions ofPastoral, 1935, and The Structure of Complex Words, 1951; F. R. Leavis, Revaluation,

1936, and The Great Tradition, 1948: Lionel Trilling, The

Liberal Imagination, 1950; T. 8. Eliot, Selected Essays, 3rd ed. 1951, and On Poetry and Poets, 1957; Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, 1953; William K. Wimsatt, The Verbal Icon, 1954: Northrop Frye, Anat-

omy of Criticism, 1957; Wayne C. Booth, The Rhetoric ofFiction, 1961, rev. ed. 1983; and W. J. Bate, The Burden of the Past and the English Poet, 1970. René Wellek and Austin Warren, Theory ofLiterature, rev. 1970, is a useful introduction to the variety of scholarly and critical approaches to literature up to the time of its publication. Jonathan Culler’s Literary Theory: A Very Short Introduction, 1997, discusses recurrent issues and debates. Beginning in the late 1960s, there was a significant intensification of interest in literary theory as a specific field. Certain forms of literary study had already been influenced by the work of the Russian linguist Roman Jakobson and the Russian formalist Viktor Shklovsky and, still more, by conceptions that derived or claimed to derive from Marx and Engels, but the full impact of these theories was not felt until what became known as the “theory revolution” of the 1970s and '80s. For Marxist literary criticism, see Georg Lukacs, Theory of the Novel, 1920, trans. 1971; The Historical Novel,

1937, trans.

1983; and Studies in European Realism, trans.

1964; Walter Benjamin’s essays from the 1920s and ’30s represented in Illuminations, trans. 1986, and Reflections, trans. 1986; Mikhail Bakhtin’s essays from the 1930s represented in The Dialogic Imagination, trans. 1981, and Rabelais and His World, 1941, trans. 1968; Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci,

ed. and trans. Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Smith, 1971; Raymond Williams, Marxism and Literature, 1977; Tony Bennett, Formalism and Marxism, 1979; Fredric Jameson, The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act, 1981;

and Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory: An Introduction, 3rd ed., 2008, and The Ideology of the Aesthetic, 1990. Structural linguistics and anthropology gave rise to a flowering of structuralist literary criticism; convenient introductions include Robert Scholes, Structuralism in Literature: An Introduction, 1974, and Jonathan Culler, Structuralist Poetics, 1975.

Poststructuralist challenges to this approach are epitomized in such influential works as Jacques Derrida, Writing and Difference, 1967, trans. 1978, and Paul de Man, Blindness and Insight: Essays in the Rhetoric of Contemporary Criticism, 1971, 2nd ed., 1983. Poststructuralism is discussed in Jonathan Culler, On Deconstruction, 1982; Slavoj Zizek, The Sublime Object of Ideology, 1989; Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism; or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, 1991; John McGowan, Postmodernism and Its Critics, 1991; and Beyond Structuralism, ed. Wendell Harris, 1996. A figure who greatly influenced both structuralism and poststructuralism is Roland Barthes, in Mythologies, trans. 1972, and S/Z, trans. 1974. Among other influential contributions to literary theory are the psychoanalytic approach in Harold Bloom, The Anxiety of

A8

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GENERAL

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Influence, 1973; and the reader-response approach in Stanley Fish, Is There a Text in This Class?: The Authority of Interpretive Communities, 1980. For a retrospect on the theory decades, see Terry Eagleton, After Theory, 2003. Influenced by these theoretical currents but not restricted to them, modern feminist literary criticism was fashioned by such works as Patricia Meyer Spacks, The Female Imagination, 1975; Ellen Moers, Literary Women, 1976; Elaine Showalter, A Literature of Their Own, 1977; and Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, The Mad-

woman in the Attic, 1979. Subsequent studies include Jane Gallop, The Daughter's Seduction: Feminism and Psychoanalysis, 1982; Luce Irigaray, This Sex Which Is Not One, trans. 1985; Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, In Other Worlds: Essays in Cultural Politics, 1987; Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, No Man’s Land: The Place of

the Woman Writer in the Twentieth Century, 3 vols., 1988—94; Barbara Johnson, A World of Difference, 1989; Judith Butler, Gender Trouble, 1990; and the critical views sampled in Elaine Showalter, The New Feminist Criticism, 1985; The Héléne Cixous Reader, ed. Susan Sellers, 1994; Feminist Literary Theory: A Reader, ed. Mary Eagleton, 3rd ed., 2010; and Feminisms: An Anthology of Literary Theory and Criticism, eds. Robyn R. Warhol and Diane Price Herndl, 2nd ed., 1997; The Cambridge

Companion to Feminist Literary Theory, ed. Ellen Rooney, 2006; Feminist Literary Theory and Criticism, ed. Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, 2007; and Feminist Lit-

erary Theory: A Reader, ed. Mary Eagleton, 3rd ed., 2011. Just as feminist critics used poststructuralist and psychoanalytic methods to place literature in conversation with gender theory, a new school emerged placing literature in conversation with critical race theory. Comprehensive introductions include Critical Race Theory: The Key Writings That Formed the Movement, eds. Kimberlé Crenshaw et al.; The Routledge Companion to Race and Ethnicity, ed. Stephen Caliendo and Charlton McIlwain, 2010; and Critical Race Theory: An Introduction, ed. Richard Delgado and Jean Stefancic, 3rd ed., 2017. For an important precursor in cultural studies, see Stuart Hall et al., Policing the Crisis, 1978. Seminal works include

Henry Louis Gates, Jr., The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literature, 1988; Patricia Williams, The Alchemy of Race and Rights, 1991; Toni Morrison, Playing the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination, 1992; Cornel West, Race Matters,

2001; and Gene Andrew Jarrett, Representing the Race:

A New Political

History of African American Literature, 2011. Helpful anthologies and collections of essays have emerged in recent decades, such as The Oxford Companion to African American Literature, eds., William L. Andrews, Frances Smith Foster, and Trudier

Harris, 1997; also their Concise Companion, 2001; The Cambridge Companion to Jewish American Literature, eds. Hana Wirth-Nesher and Michael P. Kramer, 2003:

The Routledge Companion to Anglophone Caribbean Literature, eds. Michael A. Bucknor and Alison Donnell, 2011; The Routledge Companion to Latino/a Litera-

ture, eds. Suzanne Bost and Frances R. Aparicio, 2013;

A Companion to African

American Literature, ed. Gene Andrew Jarrett, 2013; The Routledge Companion to Asian American and Pacific Islander Literature, ed. Rachel Lee, 2014; The Cam-

bridge Companion to Asian American Literature, eds. Crystal Parikh and Daniel Y. Kim, 2015; and The Cambridge Companion to British Black and Asian Literature (1945-2010), ed. Deirdre Osborne, 2016.

Gay literature and queer studies are represented in Inside/Out: Lesbian Theories, Gay Theories, ed. Diana Fuss, 1991; The Lesbian and Gay Studies Reader, eds. Henry Abelove, Michele Barale, and David Halperin, 1993; The Columbia Anthology of Gay Literature: Readings from Western Antiquity to the Present Day, ed. Byrne R. S. Fone, 1998; and by such books as Eve Sedgwick, Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire, 1985, and Epistemology of the Closet, 1990; Diana Fuss, Essentially Speaking: Feminism, Nature, and Difference, 1989; Terry Castle, The

Apparitional Lesbian: Female Homosexuality and Modern Culture,

1993; Leo Ber-

sani, Homos, 1995; Gregory Woods, A History of Gay Literature: The Male Tradition,

GENERAL

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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AQ

1998; David Halperin, How to Do the History of Homosexuality, 2002; Judith Halberstam, In a Queer Time and Place: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives, 2005;

Heather Love, Feeling Backward: Loss and the Politics of Queer History, 2009; The Cambridge History of Gay and Lesbian Literature, eds. E. L. McCallum and Mikko Tuhkanen, 2014; and The Cambridge Companion to Lesbian Literature, ed. Jodie Medd, 2015. New historicism is represented in Stephen Greenblatt, Learning to Curse, 1990; in the essays collected in The New Historicism Reader, ed. Harold Veeser, 1993; in New Historical Literary Study: Essays on Reproducing Texts, Representing History, eds. Jeffrey N. Cox and Larry J. Reynolds, 1993; and in Catherine Gallagher and Stephen Greenblatt, Practicing New Historicism, 2000. The related social and historical dimension of texts is discussed in Jerome McGann, Critique of Modern Textual Criticism, 1983; and Scholarly Editing: A Guide to Research, ed. D. C. Greetham, 1995. Characteristic of new historicism is an expansion of the field of literary interpretation still further in cultural studies; for a broad sampling of the range of interests, see Lawrence Grossberg, Cary Nelson, and Paula Treichler, eds., Cultural Studies, 1992; The Cultural Studies Reader, ed. Simon During, 3rd ed., 2007; and A Cultural Studies Reader: History, Theory, Practice, eds. Jessica Munns

and Gita Rajan, 1996.

This expansion of the field is similarly reflected in postcolonial studies: see Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, 1952, new trans. 2008, and The Wretched of the Earth, 1961, new trans. 2004; Edward Said, Orientalism, 1978, and Culture and Imperialism, 1993; The Post-Colonial Studies Reader, 2nd ed., 2006; and such influential books as Homi Bhabha, ed., Nation and Narration, 1990, and The Location of

Culture, 1994; RobertJ.C. Young, Postcolonialism: An Historical Introduction, 2001; Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, The Empire Writes Back: Theory and Practice in Post-Colonial Literatures, 2nd ed. 2002; Elleke Boehmer, Colonial

and Postcolonial Literature, 2nd ed. 2005; and The Cambridge History of Postcolonial Literature, ed. Ato Quayson, 2011; The Cambridge Companion to the Postcolonial Novel, ed. Ato Quayson, 2015; and The Cambridge Companion to Postcolonial Poetry, ed. Jahan Ramazani, 2017. In the wake of the theory revolution, critics have focused on a wide array of topics, which can only be briefly surveyed here. One current of work, focusing on the history of emotion, is represented in Brian Massumi, Parables for the Virtual, 2002; Sianne Ngai, Ugly Feelings, 2005; The Affect Theory Reader, eds. Melissa Gregg and Gregory J. Seigworth, 2010; and Judith Butler, Senses of the Subject, 2015. A some-

what related current, examining the special role of traumatic memory in literature, is exemplified in Cathy Caruth, Trauma: Explorations in Memory, 1995; and Dominic LaCapra, Writing History, Writing Trauma, 2000. Work on the literary implications of

cognitive science may be glimpsed in Introduction to Cognitive Cultural Studies, ed. Lisa Zunshine, 2010. Interest in quantitative approaches to literature was sparked by Franco Moretti, Graphs, Maps, Trees: Abstract Models for Literary History, 2005. For the growing field of digital humanities, see also Moretti, Distant Reading, 2013; Defining Digital Humanities: A Reader, eds. Melissa Terras, Julianne Nyhan, and Edward Vanhoutte, 2014; and A New Companion to Digital Humanities, eds. Susan Schreibman, Ray Siemens, and John Unsworth, 2nd ed., 2016. There has also been a flourishing of ecocriticism, or studies of literature and the environment,

including The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, eds. Cheryll Glotfelty and Harold Fromm, 1996; Writing the Environment, eds. Richard Kerridge and Neil Sammells, 1998; Jonathan Bate, The Song of the Earth, 2002; Lawrence

Buell,

The

Future

of Environmental

Criticism:

Environmental

Crisis and

Literary Imagination, 2005; Timothy Morton, Ecology Without Nature, 2009; and The Oxford Handbook of Ecocriticism, ed. Greg Garrard, 2014. Related are the emerging fields of animal studies and posthumanism, where key works include

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Bruno Latour, We Have Never Been Modern, 1993; Steve Baker, Postmodern Animal, 2000; Jacques Derrida, The Animal That Therefore I Am, trans. 2008; Cary Wolfe,

Animal Rites: American Culture, the Discourse of Species, and Posthumanist Theory, 2003, and What is Posthumanism? 2009; Kari Weil, Thinking Animals: Why Animal Studies Now? 2012; and Aaron Gross and Anne Vallely, eds. Animals and the Human Imagination: A Companion to Animal Studies, 2012; and Critical Animal Studies: Thinking the Unthinkable, ed. John Sorenson, 2014. The relationship between liter-

ature and law is central to such works as Interpreting Law and Literature: neutic Reader, eds. Sanford

Narrative and and Literature Paul J. Heald, among others,

Levinson

and Steven

Mailloux,

A Herme-

1988; Law’s Stories:

Rhetoric in the Law, eds. Peter Brooks and Paul Gerwertz, 1998; and Legal Problem Solving: Law and Literature as Ethical Discourse, 1998. Ethical questions in literature have been usefully explored by, Geoffrey Galt Harpham in Getting It Right: Language, Literature,

and Ethics, 1997, and Derek Attridge in The Singularity ofLiterature, 2004. Finally,

approaches to literature, such as formalism and literary biography, that seemed superseded in the theoretical ferment of the late twentieth century, have had a powerful resurgence. A renewed interest in form is evident in Susan Stewart, Poetry and the Fate of the Senses, 2002; Reading for Form, eds. Susan J. Wolfson and Marshall Brown,

2007; and Caroline

Levine, Forms:

Whole, Rhythm,

Hierarchy, Net-

work, 2015. Interest in the history of the book was spearheaded by D. F. McKenzie’s Bibliography and the Sociology of Texts, 1986; Jerome McGann’s The Textual Condition, 1991; and Roger Chartier’s The Order of Books: Readers, Authors, and Libraries

in Europe Between the Fourteenth and Eighteenth Centuries, 1994. See also The Cambridge History of the Book in Britain, 7 vols., 1998-2017; and The Practice and Representation of Reading in England, eds. James Raven, Helen Small, and Naomi Tadmor, 2007; The Book History Reader, eds. David Finkelstein and Alistair McCleery, 2nd ed., 2006; and The Cambridge Companion to the History of the Book, ed. Leslie Howsam, 2014. Anthologies representing a range of recent approaches include Modern Criticism and Theory, ed. David Lodge, 1988; Contemporary Literary Criticism, ed. Robert Con Davis and Ronald Schlieffer, 4th ed., 1998; and The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism, gen. ed. Vincent Leitch, 3rd ed., 2018.

Literary Terminology* Using simple technical terms can sharpen our understanding and streamline our discussion of literary works. Some terms, such as the ones in section A, help us address the internal style, structure, form, and kind of works. Other terms, such as those in section B, provide insight into the material forms in which literary works have been produced. In analyzing what they called “rhetoric,” ancient Greek and Roman writers determined the elements of what we call “style” and “structure.” Our literary terms are derived, via medieval and Renaissance intermediaries, from the Greek and Latin sources. In the definitions that follow, the etymology, or root, of the word is given when it helps illuminate the word's current usage. Most of the examples are drawn from texts in this anthology. Words boldfaced within definitions are themselves defined in this appendix. Some terms are defined within definitions; such words are italicized.

A. Terms of Style, Structure, Form, and Kind accent (synonym “stress’): a term of rhythm. The special force devoted to the voicing of one syllable in a word over others. In the noun “accent,” for example, the accent, or stress, is on the first syllable.

act: the major subdivision of a play, usually divided into scenes.

aesthetics (from Greek, “to feel, apprehend by the senses”): the philosophy of artistic meaning as a distinct mode of apprehending untranslatable truth, defined as an alternative to rational enquiry, which is purely abstract. Developed in the late eighteenth century by the German philosopher Immanuel Kant especially. Alexandrine: a term of meter. In French verse a line of twelve syllables, and, by analogy, in English verse a line of six stresses. See hexameter. allegory (Greek “saying otherwise”): saying one thing (the “vehicle” of the allegory) and meaning another (the allegory’s “tenor”). Allegories may be momentary aspects of a work, as in metaphor (“John is a lion”), or, through extended metaphor, may

constitute the basis of narrative, as in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress: this second meaning is the dominant one. See also symbol and type. Allegory is one of the most significant figures of thought. alliteration (from Latin “litera,” alphabetic letter): a figure of speech. The repeti-

tion of an initial consonant sound or consonant cluster in consecutive or closely positioned words. This pattern is often an inseparable part of the meter in Germanic languages, where the tonic, or accented syllable, is usually the first syllable. Thus all Old English poetry and some varieties of Middle English poetry use alliteration as part of their basic metrical practice. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, line 1: “Sithen the sege and the assaut was sesed at Troye” (see vol. A, p. 204). Other-

wise used for local effects; Stevie Smith, “Pretty,” lines 4—5: “And in the pretty pool the pike stalks / He stalks his prey .. .” (see vol. F, p. 733). *This appendix was devised and compiled by James Simpson with the collaboration of all the editors. We especially thank Professor Lara Bovilsky of the University of Oregon at Eugene, for her help. All

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allusion: Literary allusion is a passing but illuminating reference within a literary text to another, well-known text (often biblical or classical). Topical allusions are also, of course, common in certain modes, especially satire.

anagnorisis (Greek “recognition”): the moment of protagonist’s recognition in a narrative, which is also often the moment of moral understanding. anapest: a term of rhythm. A three-syllable foot following the rhythmic pattern, in English verse, of two unstressed (uu) syllables followed by one stressed (/). Thus, for

example, “Illinois.”

anaphora (Greek “carrying back”): a figure of speech. The repetition of words or groups of words at the beginning of consecutive sentences, clauses, or phrases. Blake, “London,” lines 5—8: “In every cry of every Man, / In every Infant’s cry of fear, / In every voice, in every ban...” (see vol. D, p. 141); Louise Bennett, “Jamaica Oman,” lines 17-20: “Some backa man a push, some side-a / Man a hole him han, / Some a lick sense eena him head, / Some a guide him pon him plan!” (see vol. F, p. 860).

animal fable: a genre. A short narrative of speaking animals, followed by moralizing comment, written in a low style and gathered into a collection. Robert Henryson, “The Preaching of the Swallow” (see vol. A, p. 523).

antithesis (Greek “placing against”): a figure of thought. The juxtaposition of opposed terms in clauses or sentences that are next to or near each other. Milton,

Paradise Lost 1.777—80: “They but now who seemed / In bigness to surpass Earth’s giant sons / Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room / Throng numberless” (see vol. B, p. 1514).

apostrophe (from Greek “turning away”): a figure of thought. An address, often to an absent person, a force, or a quality. For example, a poet makes an apostrophe to a Muse when invoking her for inspiration.

apposition: a term of syntax. The repetition of elements serving an identical grammatical function in one sentence. The effect of this repetition is to arrest the flow of the sentence, but in doing so to add extra semantic nuance to repeated elements. This is an especially important feature of Old English poetic style. See, for example, Caedmon’s Hymn (vol. A, p. 31), where the phrases “héeaven-kingdom’s Guardian,” “the Measurer’s might,” “his mind-plans,” and “the work of the GloryFather” each serve an identical syntactic function as the direct objects of “praise.” assonance (Latin “sounding to”): a figure of speech. The repetition of identical or near identical stressed vowel sounds in words whose final consonants differ, pro-

ducing half-rhyme. Tennyson, “The Lady of Shalott,” line 100: “His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed” (see vol. E, p. 149). aubade (originally from Spanish “alba,” dawn): a genre. A lover's dawn song or lyric bewailing the arrival of the day and the necessary separation of the lovers; Donne, “The Sun Rising’ (see vol. B, p. 926). Larkin recasts the genre in “Aubade” (see vol. F, p. 930).

autobiography (Greek “self-life writing”): a genre. A narrative of a life written by the subject; Wordsworth, The Prelude (see vol. D, p. 362). There are subgenres, such as the spiritual autobiography, narrating the author's path to conversion and subsequent spiritual trials, as in Bunyan’s Grace Abounding.

ballad stanza: a verse form. Usually a quatrain in alternating iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter lines, rhyming abcb. See “Sir Patrick Spens” (vol. D, p. 36);

Louise Bennett's poems (vol. F, pp. 857-61); Eliot, “Sweeney among the Nightin-

gales” (vol. F, p. 657); Larkin, “This Be The Verse” (vol. F, p. 930).

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ballade: a verse form. A form consisting usually of three stanzas followed by a

four-line envoi (French, “send off”). The last line of the first stanza establishes a

refrain, which is repeated, or subtly varied, as the last line of each stanza. The

form was derived from French medieval poetry; English poets, from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries especially, used it with varying stanza forms. Chaucer, “Complaint to His Purse” (see vol. A, p. 363).

bathos (Greek “depth”): a figure of thought. A sudden and sometimes ridiculous descent of tone; Pope, The Rape of the Lock 3.157—58: “Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, /When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last” (see vol. C, p. 518). beast epic: a genre. A continuous, unmoralized narrative, in prose or verse, relating the victories of the wholly unscrupulous but brilliant strategist Reynard the Fox over all adversaries. Chaucer arouses, only to deflate, expectations of the genre in

The Nun's Priest’s Tale (see vol. A, p. 344).

biography (Greek “life-writing”): a genre. A life as the subject of an extended narrative. Thus Izaak Walton, The Life of Dr. Donne (see vol. B, p. 976). blank verse: a verse form. Unrhymed iambic pentameter lines. Blank verse has no stanzas, but is broken up into uneven units (verse paragraphs) determined by sense rather than form. First devised in English by Henry Howard, earl of Surrey, in his translation of two books of Virgil's Aeneid (see vol. B, p. 141), this very flexi-

ble verse type became the standard form for dramatic poetry in the seventeenth century, as in most of Shakespeare’s plays. Milton and Wordsworth, among many others, also used it to create an English equivalent to classical epic. blazon: strictly, a heraldic shield; in rhetorical usage, a topos whereby the individual elements of a beloved’s face and body are singled out for hyperbolic admiration. Spenser, Epithalamion, lines 167—84 (see vol. B, p. 495). For an inversion of

the topos, see Shakespeare, Sonnet 130 (vol. B, p. 736).

burlesque (French and Italian “mocking”): a work that adopts the conventions of a genre with the aim less of comically mocking the genre than of satirically mocking the society so represented (see satire). Thus Pope’s Rape of the Lock (see vol. C, p. 507) does not mock classical epic so much as contemporary mores. caesura (Latin “cut”) (plural “caesurae”): a term of meter. A pause or breathing space within a line of verse, generally occurring between syntactic units; Louise Bennett, “Colonization in Reverse,” lines 5—8: “By de hundred, by de tousan, / From country an from town, / By de ship-load, by de plane-load, / Jamaica is Englan boun’” (see vol. F, p. 858), where the caesurae occur in lines 5 and 7.

canon (Greek “rule”): the group of texts regarded as worthy of special respect or attention by a given institution. Also, the group of texts regarded as definitely having been written by a certain author. catastrophe (Greek “overturning”): the decisive turn in tragedy by which the plot is resolved and, usually, the protagonist dies. catharsis (Greek “cleansing”): According to Aristotle, the effect of tragedy on its audience, through their experience of pity and terror, was a kind of spiritual cleansing, or catharsis. character (Greek “stamp, impression”): a person, personified animal, or other figure represented in a literary work, especially in narrative and drama. The more a character seems to generate the action of a narrative, and the less he or she seems merely to serve a preordained narrative pattern, the “fuller,” or more “rounded,” a character is said to be. A “stock” character, common particularly in

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many comic genres, will perform a predictable function in different works of a given genre.

chiasmus (Greek “crosswise”): a figure of speech. The inversion of an already established sequence. This can involve verbal echoes: Pope, “Eloisa to Abelard,” line 104, “The crime was common, common

be the pain” (see vol. C, p. 529); or it

can be purely a matter of syntactic inversion: Pope, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, line 8: “They pierce my thickets, through my grot they glide” (see vol. C, p. 544). classical, classicism, classic: Each term can be widely applied, but in English literary discourse, “classical” primarily describes the works of either Greek or Roman antiquity. “Classicism” denotes the practice of art forms inspired by classical antiquity, in particular the observance of rhetorical norms of decorum and balance, as opposed to following the dictates of untutored inspiration, as in Romanticism. “Classic” denotes an especially famous work within a given canon. climax (Greek “ladder”): a moment of great intensity and structural change, especially in drama. Also a figure of speech whereby a sequence of verbally linked clauses is made, in which each successive clause is of greater consequence than its predecessor. Bacon, Of Studies: “Studies serve for pastimes, for ornaments, and for abilities. Their chief use for pastimes is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in judgement” (see vol. B, p. 1223-24).

comedy: a genre. A term primarily applied to drama, and derived from ancient drama, in opposition to tragedy. Comedy deals with humorously confusing, sometimes ridiculous situations in which the ending is, nevertheless, happy. A comedy often ends in one or more marriages. Shakespeare, Twelfth Night (see vol. B, p. 741).

comic mode: Many genres (e.g., romance, fabliau, comedy) involve a happy ending in which justice is done, the ravages of time are arrested, and that which is lost is found. Such genres participate in a comic mode.

connotation: To understand connotation, we need to understand denotation. While many words can denote the same concept—that is, have the same basic meaning—those words can evoke different associations, or connotations. Contrast, for example, the clinical-sounding term “depression” and the more colorful, musical, even poetic phrase “the blues.”

consonance (Latin “sounding with”): a figure of speech. The repetition of final consonants in words or stressed syllables whose vowel sounds are different. Herbert, “Easter,” line 13: “Consort, both heart and lute . . .” (see vol. B, p. 1258).

convention: a repeatedly recurring feature (in either form or content) of works, occurring in combination with other recurring formal features, which constitutes a convention of a particular genre. couplet: a verse form. In English verse two consecutive, rhyming lines usually containing the same number of stresses. Chaucer first introduced the iambic pentameter couplet into English (Canterbury Tales); the form was later used in many types of writing, including drama; imitations and translations of classical epic (thus heroic couplet); essays; and satire (see Dryden and Pope). The distich (Greek

“two lines”) is a couplet usually making complete sense; Aemilia Lanyer, Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum, lines 5—6: “Read it fair queen, though it defective be, / Your excellence can grace both it and me” (see vol. B, p. 981).

dactyl (Greek “finger,” because of the finger’s three joints): a term of rhythm, A three-syllable foot following the rhythmic pattern, in English verse, of one stressed followed by two unstressed syllables. Thus, for example, “Oregon.”

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decorum (Latin “that which is fitting”): a rhetorical principle whereby each formal aspect of a work should be in keeping with its subject matter and/or audience. deixis (Greek “pointing”): relevant to point of view. Every work has, implicitly or explicitly, a “here” and a “now” from which it is narrated. Words that refer to or imply this point from which the voice of the work is projected (such as “here,” “there,”

“this,” “that,” “now,” “then”) are examples of deixis, or “deictics.” This technique is

especially important in drama, where it is used to create a sense of the events happening as the spectator witnesses them.

denotation: A word has a basic, “prosaic” (factual) meaning prior to the associations it connotes (see connotation). The word “steed,” for example, might call to mind a horse fitted with battle gear, to be ridden by a warrior, but its denotation is simply “horse.” denouement (French “unknotting”): the point at which a narrative can be resolved and so ended.

dialogue (Greek “conversation”): a genre. Dialogue is a feature of many genres, especially in both the novel and drama. As a genre itself, dialogue is used in philosophical traditions especially (most famously in Plato’s Dialogues), as the representation of a conversation in which a philosophical question is pursued among various speakers. diction, or “lexis” (from, respectively, Latin dictio and Greek lexis, each meaning “word”): the actual words used in any utterance—speech, writing, and, for our purposes here, literary works. The choice of words contributes significantly to the style of a given work. didactic mode (Greek “teaching mode”): Genres in a didactic mode are designed to instruct or teach, sometimes explicitly (e.g., sermons, philosophical discourses, georgic), and sometimes through the medium of fiction (e.g., animal fable, parable). diegesis (Greek for “narration”): a term that simply means “narration,” but is used in literary criticism to distinguish one kind of story from another. In a mimetic story, the events are played out before us (see mimesis), whereas in diegesis someone recounts the story to us. Drama is for the most part mimetic, whereas the novel is for the most part diegetic. In novels the narrator is not, usually, part of the action of the narrative; s/he is therefore extradiegetic.

dimeter (Greek “two measure”): a term of meter. A two-stress line, rarely used as the meter of whole poems, though used with great frequency in single poems by Skelton, e.g., “The Tunning of Elinour Rumming” (see vol. B, p. 39). Otherwise used for single lines, as in Herbert, “Discipline,” line 3: “O my God” (see vol. B, p. 1274).

discourse (Latin “running to and fro”): broadly, any nonfictional speech or writing; as a more specific genre, a philosophical meditation on a set theme. Thus Newman, The Idea of a University (see vol. E, p. 64). dramatic irony: a feature of narrative and drama, whereby the audience knows that the outcome of an action will be the opposite of that intended by a character. dramatic monologue (Greek “single speaking”): a genre. A poem in which the voice of a historical or fictional character speaks, unmediated by any narrator, to an implied though silent audience. See Tennyson, “Ulysses” (vol. E, p. 156); Browning, “The Bishop Orders His Tomb” (vol. E, p. 332); Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred

Prufrock” (vol. F, p. 654); Carol Ann Duffy, “Medusa” and “Mrs Lazarus” (vol. F,

pp. 1211-13).

ecphrasis (Greek “speaking out”): a topos whereby a work of visual art is represented in a literary work. Auden, “Musée des Beaux Arts” (see vol. F, p. 815).

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elegy: a genre. In classical literature elegy was a form written in elegiac couplets (a hexameter followed by a pentameter) devoted to many possible topics. In Ovidian elegy a lover meditates on the trials of erotic desire (e.g., Ovid’s Amores). The sonnet sequences of both Sidney and Shakespeare exploit this genre, and, while it was still practiced in classical tradition by Donne (“On His Mistress” [see vol. B, p. 942]), by

the later seventeenth century the term came to denote the poetry of loss, especially through the death of a loved person. See Tennyson, In Memoriam (vol. E, p. 173); Yeats, “In Memory of Major Robert Gregory” (vol. F, p. 223); Auden, “In Memory of W. B. Yeats” (see vol. F, p. 815); Heaney, “Clearances” (vol. F, p. 1104).

emblem (Greek “an insertion”): a figure of thought. A picture allegorically expressing a moral, or a verbal picture open

to such

interpretation.

Donne,

“A Hymn

to

Christ,” lines 1-2: “In what torn ship soever I embark, / That ship shall be my emblem of thy ark” (see vol. B, p. 966).

end-stopping: the placement of a complete syntactic unit within a complete poetic line, fulfilling the metrical pattern; Auden, “In Memory of W. B. Yeats,” line 42: “Earth, receive an honoured guest” (see vol. F, p. 817). Compare enjambment.

enjambment (French “striding,” encroaching): The opposite of end-stopping, enjambment occurs when the syntactic unit does not end with the end of the poetic line and the fulfillment of the metrical pattern. When the sense of the line overflows its meter and, therefore, the line break, we have enjambment; Auden, “In Memory of

W. B. Yeats,” lines 44—45: “Let the Irish vessel lie /Emptied of its poetry” (see vol. F, p. 817). epic (synonym, heroic poetry): a genre. An extended narrative poem celebrating martial heroes, invoking divine inspiration, beginning in medias res (see order), written in a high style (including the deployment of epic similes; on high style, see register), and divided into long narrative sequences. Homer’s Iliad and Virgil’s Aeneid were the prime models for English writers of epic verse. Thus Milton, Paradise Lost (see vol. B, p. 1495); Wordsworth, The Prelude (see vol. D, p. 362); and Walcott, Omeros (see vol. F,

p. 947). With its precise repertoire of stylistic resources, epic lent itself easily to parodic and burlesque forms, known as mock epic; thus Pope, The Rape of the Lock (see vol. C, p. 507).

epigram: a genre. A short, pithy poem wittily expressed, often with wounding intent. See Jonson, Epigrams (see vol. B, p. 1089).

epigraph (Greek “inscription”): a genre. Any formal statement inscribed on stone; also the brief formulation on a book’s title page, or a quotation at the beginning of a poem, introducing the work’s themes in the most compressed form possible. epistle (Latin “letter”): a genre. The letter can be shaped as a literary form, involving an intimate address often between equals. The Epistles of Horace provided a model for English writers from the sixteenth century. Thus Wyatt, “Mine own John Poins” (see vol. B, p. 131), or Pope, “An Epistle to a Lady” (vol. C, p. 655). Letters

can be shaped to form the matter of an extended fiction, as the eighteenth-century epistolary novel (e.g., Samuel Richardson’s Pamela).

epitaph: a genre. A pithy formulation to be inscribed on a funeral monument. Thus Ralegh, “The Author’s Epitaph, Made by Himself” (see vol. B, p. 532).

epithalamion (Greek “concerning the bridal chamber”): a genre. A wedding poem, celebrating the marriage and wishing the couple good fortune. Thus Spenser, Epithalamion (see vol. B, p. 491).

epyllion (plural “epyllia”) (Greek: “little epic”): a genre. A relatively short poem in the meter of epic poetry. See, for example, Marlowe, Hero and Leander (vol. B, p 660).

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essay (French “trial, attempt”): a genre. An informal philosophical meditation, usually in prose and sometimes in verse. The journalistic periodical essay was developed in the early eighteenth century. Thus Addison and Steele, periodical essays (see vol. C, p. 462); Pope, An Essay on Criticism (see vol. C, p. 490).

euphemism (Greek “sweet saying”): a figure of thought. The figure by which something distasteful is described in alternative, less repugnant terms (e.g., “he passed away”). exegesis (Greek “leading out”): interpretation, traditionally of the biblical text, but, by transference, of any text. exemplum (Latin “example”): an example inserted into a usually nonfictional writing (e.g., sermon or essay) to give extra force to an abstract thesis. Thus Johnson’s example of “Sober” in his essay “On Idleness” (see vol. C, p. 732). fabliau (French “little story,” plural fabliaux): a genre. A short, funny, often bawdy narrative in low style (see register) imitated and developed from French models, most subtly by Chaucer; see The Miller's Prologue and Tale (vol. A, p. 282).

farce (French “stuffing”): a genre. A play designed to provoke laughter through the often humiliating antics of stock characters. Congreve’s The Way of the World (see vol. C, p. 188) draws on this tradition. figures of speech: Literary language often employs patterns perceptible to the eye and/or to the ear. Such patterns are called “figures of speech”; in classical rhetoric they were called “schemes” (from Greek schema, meaning “form, figure”). figures of thought: Language can also be patterned conceptually, even outside the rules that normally govern it. Literary language in particular exploits this licensed linguistic irregularity. Synonyms for figures of thought are “trope” (Greek “twisting,” referring to the irregularity of use) and “conceit” (Latin “concept,” referring to the fact that these figures are perceptible only to the mind). Be careful not to confuse trope with topos (a common error). first-person narration: relevant to point of view, a narrative in which the voice narrating refers to itself with forms of the first-person pronoun (“I,” “me,” “my,” etc., or possibly “we,” “us,” “our”), and in which the narrative is determined by the limitations of that voice. Thus Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein.

frame narrative: Some narratives, particularly collections of narratives, involve a frame narrative that explains the genesis of, and/or gives a perspective on, the main narrative or narratives to follow. Thus Chaucer, Canterbury Tales; Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein; or Conrad, Heart of Darkness. free indirect style: relevant to point of view, a narratorial voice that manages,

without explicit reference, to imply, and often implicitly to comment on, the voice of a character in the narrative itself. Virginia Woolf, “A Sketch of the Past,” where the voice, although strictly that of the adult narrator, manages to convey the child’s manner of perception: “—I begin: the first memory. This was of red and purple flowers on a black background—my mother’s dress.” genre and mode: The style, structure, and, often, length of a work, when coupled

with a certain remain genres

certain subject matter, raise expectations that a literary work conforms to a genre (French “kind”). Good writers might upset these expectations, but they aware of the expectations and thwart them purposefully. Works in different may nevertheless participate in the same mode, a broader category designat-

ing the fundamental perspectives governing various genres of writing. For mode, see tragic, comic, satiric, and didactic modes. Genres are fluid, sometimes very fluid

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(e.g., the novel); the word “usually” should be added to almost every account of the

characteristics of a given genre!

georgic (Greek “farming”): a genre. Virgil’s Georgics treat agricultural and occasionally scientific subjects, giving instructions on the proper management of farms. Unlike pastoral, which treats the countryside as a place of recreational idleness among shepherds, the georgic treats it as a place of productive labor. For an English poem that critiques both genres, see Crabbe, “The Village” (vol. C, p. 1019). hermeneutics (from the Greek god Hermes, messenger between the gods and humankind): the science of interpretation, first formulated as such by the German philosophical theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher in the early nineteenth century. heroic poetry: see epic. hexameter (Greek “six measure”): a term of meter. The hexameter line (a six-stress

line) is the meter of classical Latin epic; while not imitated in that form for epic verse in English, some instances of the hexameter exist. See, for example, the last

line of a Spenserian stanza, Faerie Queene 1.1.2: “O help thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong” (vol. B, p. 253), or Yeats, “The Lake Isle of Innisfree,” line 1: “T will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree” (vol. F, p. 215).

homily (Greek “discourse”): a genre. A sermon, to be preached in church; Book of Homilies (see vol. B, p. 165). Writers of literary fiction sometimes exploit the homily, or sermon, as in Chaucer, The Pardoner’s Tale (see vol. A, p. 329).

homophone (Greek “same sound”): a figure of speech. A word that sounds identical to another word but has a different meaning (“bear” / “bare”). hyperbaton (Greek “overstepping”): a term of syntax. The rearrangement, or inversion, of the expected word order in a sentence or clause. Gray, “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” line 38: “If Memory o’er their tomb no trophies raise” (vol. C, p. 999). Poets can suspend the expected syntax over many lines, as in the first sentences of the Canterbury Tales (vol. A, p. 261) and of Paradise Lost (vol. B, p. 1495).

hyperbole (Greek “throwing over”): a figure of thought. Overstatement, exaggeration; Marvell, “To His Coy Mistress,” lines 11-12: “My vegetable love should grow/ Vaster than empires, and more slow” (see vol. B, p. 1347); Auden, “As I Walked Out One Evening,” lines 9-12: “‘P'Il love you, dear, I’ll love you / Till China and Africa

meet / And the river jumps over the mountain / And the salmon sing in the street” (see vol. F, p. 813).

hypermetrical (adj.; Greek “over measured”): a term of meter; the word describes a breaking of the expected metrical pattern by at least one extra syllable.

hypotaxis, or subordination (respectively Greek and Latin “ordering under”): a term of syntax. The subordination, by the use of subordinate clauses, of different elements of a sentence to a single main verb. Milton, Paradise Lost 9.513—15: “As when a ship by skillful steersman wrought / Nigh river’s mouth or foreland, where the wind / Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail; So varied he” (vol. B, p. 1654).

The contrary principle to parataxis.

iamb: a term of rhythm. The basic foot of English verse; two syllables following the rhythmic pattern of unstressed followed by stressed and producing a rising effect. Thus, for example, “Vermont.” imitation: the practice whereby writers strive ideally to reproduce and yet renew the conventions of an older form, often derived from classical civilization. Such a practice will be praised in periods of classicism (e.g., the eighteenth century) and repudiated in periods dominated by a model of inspiration (e.g., Romanticism).

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irony (Greek “dissimulation”); a figure of thought. In broad usage, irony designates the result of inconsistency between a statement and a context that undermines the statement. “It's a beautiful day” is unironic if it’s a beautiful day; if, however, the weather is terrible, then the inconsistency between statement and context is ironic. The effect is often amusing; the need to be ironic is sometimes produced by censorship of one kind or another. Strictly, irony is a subset of allegory: whereas allegory says one thing and means another, irony says one thing and means its opposite. For an extended example of irony, see Swift's “Modest Proposal.” See also dramatic irony. journal (French “daily”): a genre. A diary, or daily record of ephemeral experience, whose perspectives are concentrated on, and limited by, the experiences of single days. Thus Pepys, Diary (see vol. C, p. 86). lai: a genre. A short narrative, often characterized by images of great intensity; a French term, and a form practiced by Marie de France (see vol. A, p. 160).

legend (Latin “requiring to be read”): a genre. A narrative of a celebrated, possibly historical, but mortal protagonist. To be distinguished from myth. Thus the “Arthurian legend” but the “myth of Proserpine.” lexical set: Words that habitually recur together (e.g., January, February, March, etc.; or red, white, and blue) form a lexical set.

litotes (from Greek “smooth”): a figure of thought. Strictly, understatement by denying the contrary; More, Utopia: “differences of no slight import” (see vol. B, p. 47). More loosely, understatement; Swift, “A Tale of a Tub”: “Last week I saw a woman flayed, and you will hardly believe how much it altered her person for the worse” (see vol. C, p. 274). Stevie Smith, “Sunt Leones,” lines 11—12: “And if

the Christians felt a little blue— / Well people being eaten often do” (see vol. F, p: 729). lullaby: a genre. A bedtime, sleep-inducing song for children, in simple and regular meter. Adapted by Auden, “Lullaby” (see vol. F, p. 809). lyric (from Greek “lyre”): Initially meaning a song, “lyric” refers to a short poetic form, without restriction of meter, in which the expression of personal emotion, often by a voice in the first person, is given primacy over narrative sequence. Thus “The Wife’s Lament” (see vol. A, p. 123); Yeats, “The Wild Swans at Coole” (see vol. F,

p. 223). masque: a genre. Costly entertainments of the Stuart court, involving dance, song, speech, and elaborate stage effects, in which courtiers themselves participated.

metaphor (Greek “carrying across,” etymologically parallel to Latin “translation’”): One of the most significant figures of thought, metaphor designates identification or implicit identification of one thing with another with which it is not literally identifiable. Blake, “London,” lines 11-12: “And the hapless Soldier’s sigh / Runs in blood down Palace walls” (see vol. D, p. 141).

meter: Verse (from Latin versus, turned) is distinguished from prose (from Latin prorsus, “straightforward”) as a more compressed form of expression, shaped by metrical norms. Meter (Greek “measure”) refers to the regularly recurring sound pattern of verse lines. The means of producing sound patterns across lines differ in different poetic traditions. Verse may be quantitative, or determined by the quantities of syllables (set patterns of long and short syllables), as in Latin and Greek poetry. It may be syllabic, determined by fixed numbers of syllables in the line, as in the verse of Romance languages (e.g., French and Italian). It may be accentual, determined by the number of accents, or stresses in the line, with variable numbers

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of syllables, as in Old English and some varieties of Middle English alliterative verse. Or it may be accentual-syllabic, determined by the numbers of accents, but possessing a regular pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables, so as to produce regular numbers of syllables per line. Since Chaucer, English verse has worked primarily within the many possibilities of accentual-syllabic meter. The unit of meter is the foot. In English verse the number of feet per line corresponds to the number of accents in a line. For the types and examples of different meters, see monometer, dimeter,

trimester,

tetrameter,

pentameter,

and hexameter.

In the definitions

below, “u” designates one unstressed syllable, and “/” one stressed syllable.

metonymy (Greek “change of name”): one of the Using a word to denote another concept or other ciation. Thus “The Press,” designating printed work by associations of this kind. Closely related mimesis

most significant figures of thought. concepts, by virtue of habitual assonews media. Fictional names often to synecdoche.

(Greek for “imitation”): A central function of literature and drama has

been to provide a plausible imitation of the reality of the world beyond the literary work; mimesis is the representation and imitation of what is taken to be reality. mise-en-abyme (French for “cast into the abyss”): Some works of art represent themselves in themselves; if they do so effectively, the represented artifact also represents itself, and so ad infinitum. The effect achieved is called “mise-en-abyme.” Hoccleve’s

Complaint, for example, represents a depressed man reading about a depressed man. This sequence threatens to become a mise-en-abyme. monometer (Greek “one measure”): a term of meter. An entire line with just one stress; Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, line 15, “most (u) grand (/)” (see vol. A, p. 204).

myth: a genre. The narrative of protagonists with, or subject to, superhuman powers. A myth expresses some profound foundational truth, often by accounting for the origin of natural phenomena. To be distinguished from legend. Thus the “Arthurian legend” but the “myth of Proserpine.” novel: an extremely flexible genre in both form and subject matter. Usually in prose, giving high priority to narration of events, with a certain expectation of length, novels are preponderantly rooted in a specific, and often complex, social world; sensitive to the realities of material life; and often focused on one character or a small circle of central characters. By contrast with chivalric romance (the main European narrative genre prior to the novel), novels tend to eschew the marvelous in favor of a recogniz-

able social world and credible action. The novel’s openness allows it to participate in all modes, and to be co-opted for a huge variety of subgenres. In English literature the novel dates from the late seventeenth century and has been astonishingly successful in appealing to a huge readership, particularly in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The English and Irish tradition of the novel includes, for example, Fielding, Austen, the Bronté sisters, Dickens, George Eliot, Conrad, Woolf, Lawrence,

and

Joyce, to name but a few very great exponents of the genre.

novella: a genre. A short novel, often characterized by imagistic intensity. Conrad, Heart of Darkness (see vol. F, p. 73). occupatio (Latin “taking possession”): a figure of thought. Denying that one will discuss a subject while Aediale discussing it; also known as “praeteritio” (Latin “passing by”). See Chaucer, Nun’s Priest's Tale, lines 414—32 (see vol. A, p. 353).

ode (Greek “song”): a genre. A lyric poem in elevated, or high style (see register), often addressed to a natural force, a person, or an abstract quality. The Pindaric ode in English is made up of stanzas of unequal length, while the Horatian ode has stanzas

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of equal length. For examples of both types, see, respectively, Wordsworth, “Ode: Intimations of Immortality” (vol. D, p: 348); and Marvell, “An Horatian Ode” (vol. B, p. 1356), or Keats, “Ode on Melancholy” (vol. D, p. 981). For a fuller discussion, see the headnote to Jonson’s “Ode on Cary and Morison” (vol. B, p. 1102).

omniscient narrator (Latin “all-knowing narrator”): relevant to point of view. A narrator who, in the fiction of the narrative, has complete access to both the deeds and the thoughts of all characters in the narrative. Thus Thomas Hardy, “On the Western Circuit” (see vol. F, p. 36).

onomatopoeia (Greek “name making”): a figure of speech. Verbal sounds that imitate and evoke the sounds they denotate. Hopkins, “Binsey Poplars,” lines 10—12 (about some felled trees): “O if we but knew what we do / When we delve [dig] or

hew— / Hack and rack the growing green!” (see vol. E, p. 598). order: A story may be told in different narrative orders. A narrator might use the sequence of events as they happened, and thereby follow what classical rhetoricians called the natural order; alternatively, the narrator might reorder the sequence of events, beginning the narration either in the middle or at the end of the sequence of events, thereby following an artificial order. If a narrator begins in the middle of events, he or she is said to begin in medias res (Latin “in the middle of the matter’).

For a brief discussion of these concepts, see Spenser, Faerie Queene, “A Letter of the Authors” (vol. B, p. 249). Modern narratology makes a related distinction, between histoire (French “story”) for the natural order that readers mentally reconstruct, and discours (French, here “narration”) for the narrative as presented. See

also plot and story. ottava rima: a verse form. An eight-line stanza form, rhyming abababcc, using iambic pentameter; Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium” (see vol. F, p. 230). Derived from the Italian poet Boccaccio, an eight-line stanza was used by fifteenthcentury English poets for inset passages (e.g., Christ’s speech from the Cross in Lydgate’s Testament, lines 754-897). The form in this rhyme scheme was used in English poetry for long narrative by, for example, Byron (Don Juan; see vol. D, p. 669). oxymoron

(Greek “sharp blunt”): a figure of thought. The conjunction of nor-

mally incompatible terms; Milton, Paradise Lost 1.63: “darkness visible” (see vol. B,

p. 1497). panegyric: a genre. Demonstrative, or epideictic (Greek “showing”), rhetoric was a branch of classical rhetoric. Its own two main branches were the rhetoric of praise on the one hand and of vituperation on the other. Panegyric, or eulogy (Greek “sweet speaking”), or encomium (plural encomia), is the term used to describe the speeches

or writings of praise. parable: a genre. A simple story designed to provoke, and often accompanied by, allegorical interpretation, most famously by Christ as reported in the Gospels. paradox (Greek “contrary to received opinion”): a figure of thought. An apparent contradiction that requires thought to reveal an inner consistency. Chaucer, “Troilus’s Song,” line 12: “O sweete harm so quainte” (see vol. A, p. 362). parataxis, or coordination (respectively Greek and Latin “ordering beside”): a term of syntax. The coordination, by the use of coordinating conjunctions, of different main clauses in a single sentence. Malory, Morte Darthur: “So Sir Lancelot departed and took his sword under his arm, and so he walked in his mantel, that

noble knight, and put himself in great jeopardy” (see vol. A, p. 539). The opposite principle to hypotaxis.

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parody: a work that uses the conventions of a particular genre with the aim of comically mocking a topos, a genre, or a particular exponent of a genre. Shakespeare parodies the topos of blazon in Sonnet 130 (see vol. B, p. 736). pastoral (from Latin pastor, “shepherd”): a genre. Pastoral is set among shepherds, making often refined allusion to other apparently unconnected subjects (sometimes politics) from the potentially idyllic world of highly literary if illiterate shepherds. Pastoral is distinguished from georgic by representing recreational rural idleness, whereas the georgic offers instruction on how to manage rural labor. English writers had classical models in the Idylls of Theocritus in Greek and Virgil’s Eclogues in Latin. Pastoral is also called bucolic (from the Greek word for “herdsman’”). Thus Spenser, Shepheardes Calender (see vol. B, p. 241).

pathetic fallacy: the attribution of sentiment to natural phenomena, as if they were in sympathy with human feelings. Thus Milton, Lycidas, lines 146—47: “With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, / And every flower that sad embroidery wears” (see vol. B, p. 1472). For critique of the practice, see Ruskin (who coined the term), “Of the Pathetic Fallacy” (vol. E, p. 386). pentameter (Greek “five measure”): a term of meter. In English verse, a five-stress line. Between the late fourteenth and the nineteenth centuries, this meter, fre-

quently employing an iambic rhythm, was the basic line of English verse. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, and Wordsworth each, for example, deployed this very flexible line as their primary resource; Milton, Paradise Lost 1.128: “O Prince, O Chief

of many thronéd Powers” (see vol. B, p. 1499). performative: Verbal expressions have many different functions. They can, for example, be descriptive, or constative (if they make an argument), or performative,

for example. A performative utterance is one that makes something happen in the world by virtue of its utterance. “I hereby sentence you to ten years in prison,” if uttered in the appropriate circumstances, itself performs an action; it makes some-

thing happen in the world. By virtue of its performing an action, it is called a “performative.” See also speech act. peripeteia (Greek “turning about”): the sudden reversal of fortune (in both directions) in a dramatic work.

periphrasis (Greek “declaring around”): a figure of thought. Circumlocution; the use of many words to express what could be expressed in few or one; Sidney, Astrophil and Stella 39.1—4 (vol. B, p. 593).

persona (Latin “sound through”): originally the mask worn in the Roman theater to magnify an actor's voice; in literary discourse persona (plural personae) refers to the narrator or speaker of a text, whose voice is coherent and whose person need have no relation to the person of the actual author of a text. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (see vol. F, p. 654).

personification, or prosopopoeia (Greek “person making”): a figure of thought. The attribution of human qualities to nonhuman forces or objects; Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” lines 1—2: “Thou still unvanish’d bride of quietness, / Thou fosterchild of silence and slow time” (see vol. D, p. 979).

plot: the sequence of events in a story as narrated, as distinct from story, which refers to the sequence of events as we reconstruct them from the plot. See also order.

point of view: All of the many kinds of writing involve a point of view from which a text is, or seems to be, generated. The presence of such a point of view may be powerful and explicit, as in many novels, or deliberately invisible, as in much drama. In

some genres, such as the novel, the narrator does not necessarily tell the story from a

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position we can predict; that is, the needs of a particular story, not the conventions of the genre, determine the narrator's position. In other genres, the narrator's position is fixed by convention; in certain kinds of love poetry, for example, the narrating voice is always that of a suffering lover. Not only does the point of view significantly inform the style of a work, but it also informs the structure of that work.

protagonist (Greek “first actor”): the hero or heroine of a drama or narrative.

pun: a figure of thought. A sometimes irresolvable doubleness of meaning in a single word or expression; Shakespeare, Sonnet

135, line 1: “Whoever hath her wish, thou

hast thy Will” (see vol. B, p. 736).

quatrain: a verse form. A stanza of four lines, usually rhyming abcb, abab, or abba. Of many possible examples, see Crashaw, “On the Wounds of Our Crucified Lord” (see vol. B, p. 1296). refrain: usually a single line repeated as the last line of consecutive stanzas, sometimes with subtly different wording and ideally with subtly different meaning as the poem progresses. See, for example, Wyatt, “Blame not my lute” (see vol. B, p. 128). register: The register of a word is its stylistic level, which can be distinguished by degree of technicality but also by degree of formality. We choose our words from different registers according to context, that is, audience and/or environment.

Thus a

chemist in a laboratory will say “sodium chloride,” a cook in a kitchen “salt.” A formal register designates the kind of language used in polite society (e.g., “Mr. President”), while an informal or colloquial register is used in less formal or more relaxed social situations (e.g., “the boss”). In classical and medieval rhetoric, these registers of formality were called high style and low style. A middle style was defined as the style fit for narrative, not drawing attention to itself. rhetoric: the art of verbal persuasion. Classical rhetoricians distinguished three areas of rhetoric: the forensic, to be used in law courts; the deliberative, to be used

in political or philosophical deliberations; and the demonstrative, or epideictic, to be used for the purposes of public praise or blame. Rhetorical manuals covered all the skills required of a speaker, from the management of style and structure to delivery. These manuals powerfully influenced the theory of poetics as a separate branch of verbal practice, particularly in the matter of style. rhyme: a figure of speech. The repetition of identical vowel sounds in stressed syllables whose initial consonants differ (“dead” /“head”). In poetry, rhyme often links the end of one line with another. Masculine rhyme: full rhyme on the final syllable of the line (“decays” / “days”). Feminine rhyme: full rhyme on syllables that are followed by unaccented syllables (“fountains” / “mountains”). Internal rhyme: full rhyme within a single line; Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, line 7: “The guests are met, the feast is set” (see vol. D, p. 448). Rhyme riche: rhyming on homophones; Chaucer, General Prologue, lines 17-18: “seeke” / “seke.” Off rhyme (also known as half rhyme, near rhyme, or slant rhyme): differs from perfect rhyme in changing the vowel sound and/or the concluding consonants expected of perfect rhyme; Byron, “They say that Hope is Happiness,” lines 5-7: “most” / “lost.” Pararhyme: stressed vowel sounds differ but are flanked by identical or similar consonants; Owen, “Miners,” lines 9-11: “simmer” / “summer” (see vol. F, p. 163).

rhyme royal: a verse form. A stanza of seven iambic pentameter lines, rhyming ababbcc; first introduced by Chaucer and called “royal” because the form was used by James I of Scotland for his Kingis Quair in the early fifteenth century. Chaucer, “Troilus’s Song” (see vol. A, p. 362).

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rhythm: Rhythm is not absolutely distinguishable from meter. One way of making a clear distinction between these terms is to say that rhythm (from the Greek “to flow”) denotes the patterns of sound within the feet of verse lines and the combination of those feet. Very often a particular meter will raise expectations that a given rhythm will be used regularly through a whole line or a whole poem. Thus in English verse the pentameter regularly uses an iambic rhythm. Rhythm, however, is much more fluid than meter, and many lines within the same poem using a single meter will frequently exploit different rhythmic possibilities. For examples of different rhythms, see iamb, trochee, anapest, spondee, and dactyl.

romance: a genre. From the twelfth to the sixteenth century, the main form of European narrative, in either verse or prose, was that of chivalric romance. Romance, like

the later novel, is a very fluid genre, but romances are often characterized by (i) a tripartite structure of social integration, followed by disintegration, involving moral tests and often marvelous events, itself the prelude to reintegration in a happy ending, frequently of marriage; and (ii) aristocratic social milieux. Thus Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (see vol. A, p. 204); Spenser’s (unfinished) Faerie Queene (vol. B,

p- 249). The immensely popular, fertile genre was absorbed, in both domesticated and undomesticated form, by the novel. For an adaptation of romance, see Chaucer, Wife of Bath’s Tale (vol. A, p. 300).

sarcasm (Greek “flesh tearing”): a figure of thought. A wounding expression, often expressed ironically; Boswell, Life of Johnson: Johnson [asked if any man of the modern age could have written the epic poem Fingal] replied, “Yes, Sir, many men, many women, and many children” (see vol. C, p. 844). satire (Latin for “a bowl of mixed fruits”): a genre. In Roman literature (e.g., Juve-

nal), the communication, in the form of a letter between equals, complaining of the ills of contemporary society. The genre in this form is characterized by a first-person narrator exasperated by social ills; the letter form; a high frequency of contemporary reference; and the use of invective in low-style language. Pope practices the genre thus in the Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot (see vol. C, p. 543). Wyatt’s “Mine own John Poins” (see vol. B, p. 131) draws ultimately on a gentler, Horatian model of the genre. satiric mode: Works in a very large variety of genres are devoted to the more or less savage attack on social ills. Thus Swift’s travel narrative Gulliver's Travels (see vol. C, p. 279), his essay “A Modest Proposal” (vol. C, p. 454), Pope’s mock-epic The Dunciad (vol. C, p. 555), and Gay’s Beggar's Opera (vol. C, p. 659), to look no further than the eighteenth century, are all within a satiric mode.

scene: a subdivision of an act, itself a subdivision of a dramatic performance and/ or text. The action of a scene usually occurs in one place. sensibility (from Latin, “capable of being perceived by the senses”): as a literary term, an eighteenth-century concept derived from moral philosophy that stressed the social importance of fellow feeling and particularly of sympathy in social relations. The concept generated a literature of “sensibility,” such as the sentimental novel (the most famous of which was Goethe's Sorrows of the Young Werther [1774]), or sentimental poetry, such as Cowper's passage on the stricken deer in The Task (see vol. C,

p. 1024).

short story: a genre. Generically similar to, though shorter and more concentrated than, the novel; often published as part of a collection. Thus Mansfield, “The Daughters of the Late Colonel” (see vol. F, p. 698). simile (Latin “like”): a figure of thought. Comparison, usually using the word “like” or “as,” of one thing with another so as to produce sometimes surprising analogies. Donne, “The Storm,” lines 29-30: “Sooner than you read this line did the gale, / Like

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shot, not feared till felt, our sails assail.” Frequently used, in extended form, in epic poetry; Milton, Paradise Lost 1.338—46 (see vol. B, p. 1504).

soliloquy (Latin “single speaking”): a topos of drama, in which a character, alone or thinking to be alone on stage, speaks so as to give the audience access to his or her private thoughts. Thus Viola’s soliloquy in Shakespeare, Twelfth Night 2.2.17— 41 (vol. B, p. 758).

sonnet: a verse form. A form combining a variable number of units of rhymed lines to produce a fourteen-line poem, usually in rhyming iambic pentameter lines. In English there are two principal varieties: the Petrarchan sonnet, formed by an octave (an eight-line stanza, often broken into two quatrains having the same rhyme scheme, typically abba abba) and a sestet (a six-line stanza, typically cdecde or cdeded); and the Shakespearean sonnet, formed by three quatrains (abab cdcd efef)

and a couplet (gg). The declaration of a sonnet can take a sharp turn, or “volta,” often at the decisive formal shift from octave to sestet in the Petrarchan sonnet, or in the

final couplet of a Shakespearean sonnet, introducing a trenchant counterstatement. Derived from Italian poetry, and especially from the poetry of Petrarch, the sonnet was first introduced to English poetry by Wyatt, and initially used principally for the expression of unrequited erotic love, though later poets used the form for many other purposes. See Wyatt, “Whoso list to hunt” (vol. B, p. 121); Sidney, Astrophil and Stella (vol. B, p. 586); Shakespeare, Sonnets (vol. B, p. 723); Wordsworth, “London, 1802” (vol. D, p. 357); McKay, “If We Must Die” (vol. F, p. 854); Heaney, “Clearances” (vol. F,

p. 1104).

speech act: Words and deeds are often distinguished, but words are often (perhaps always) themselves deeds. Utterances can perform different speech acts, such as promising, declaring, casting a spell, encouraging, persuading, denying, lying, and so on. See also performative. Spenserian stanza: a verse form. The stanza developed by Spenser for The Faerie Queene; nine iambic lines, the first eight of which are pentameters, followed by one hexameter, rhyming ababbcbcc. See also, for example, Shelley, Adonais (vol. D, p. 856), and Keats, The Eve of St. Agnes (vol. D, p. 961).

spondee: a term of meter. A two-syllable foot following the rhythmic pattern, in English verse, of two stressed syllables. Thus, for example, “Utah.” stanza (Italian “room”): groupings of two or more lines, though “stanza” is usually reserved for groupings of at least four lines. Stanzas are often joined by rhyme, often in sequence, where each group shares the same metrical pattern and, when rhymed, rhyme scheme. Stanzas can themselves be arranged into larger groupings. Poets often invent new verse forms, or they may work within established forms. story: a narrative’s sequence of events, which we reconstruct from those events as they have been recounted by the narrator (i.e., the plot). See also order. stream of consciousness: usually a reader access to the narrator's mind organizing those perceptions into a from a third-person narrative) Joyce,

first-person narrative that seems to give the as it perceives or reflects on events, prior to coherent narrative. Thus (though generated Ulysses, “Penelope” (see vol. F, p. 604).

style (from Latin for “writing instrument”): In literary works the manner in which something is expressed contributes substantially to its meaning. The expressions “sun,” “mass of helium at the center of the solar system,” “heaven’s golden orb” all designate “sun,” but do so in different manners, or styles, which produce different meanings. The manner of a literary work is its “style,” the effect of which is its “tone.” We often can intuit the tone of a text; from that intuition of tone we can analyze the

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stylistic resources by which it was produced. We can analyze the style of literary works through consideration of different elements of style; for example, diction, figures of thought, figures of speech, meter and rhythm, verse form, syntax, point of view. sublime: As a concept generating a literary movement, the sublime refers to the realm of experience beyond the measurable, and so beyond the rational, produced especially by the terrors and grandeur of natural phenomena. Derived especially from the first-century Greek treatise On the Sublime, sometimes attributed to Longinus, the notion of the sublime was in the later eighteenth century a spur to Romanticism.

syllable: the smallest unit of sound in a pronounced word. The syllable that receives the greatest stress is called the tonic syllable. symbol (Greek “token”): a figure of thought. Something that stands for something else, and yet seems necessarily to evoke that other thing. In Neoplatonic, and therefore Romantic, theory, to be distinguished from allegory thus: whereas allegory involves connections between vehicle and tenor agreed by convention or made explicit, the meanings of a symbol are supposedly inherent to it. For discussion, see Coleridge, “On Symbol and Allegory” (vol. D, p. 507). synecdoche (Greek “to take with something else”): a figure of thought. Using a part to express the whole, or vice versa; e.g., “all hands on deck.” Closely related to metonymy.

syntax (Greek “ordering with”): Syntax designates the rules by which sentences are constructed in a given language. Discussion of meter is impossible without some reference to syntax, since the overall effect of a poem is, in part, always the product of a subtle balance of meter and sentence construction. Syntax is also essential to the understanding of prose style, since prose writers, deprived of the full shaping

possibilities of meter, rely all the more heavily on syntactic resources. A working command of syntactical practice requires an understanding of the parts of speech (nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, conjunctions, pronouns, prepositions, and interjections), since writers exploit syntactic possibilities by using particular combinations and concentrations of the parts of speech.

taste (from Italian “touch”): Although medieval monastic traditions used eating and tasting as a metaphor for reading, the concept of taste as a personal ideal to be cultivated by, and applied to, the appreciation and judgment of works of art in general was developed in the eighteenth century. tercet: a verse form. A stanza or group of three lines, used in larger forms such as terza rima, the Petrarchan sonnet, and the villanelle.

terza rima: a verse form. A sequence of rhymed tercets linked by rhyme thus: aba beb cde, etc. first used extensively by Dante in The Divine Comedy, the form was adapted in English iambic pentameters by Wyatt and revived in the nineteenth century. See Wyatt, “Mine own John Poins” (vol. B, p. 131); Shelley, “Ode to the West Wind” (vol. D, p- 806); and Morris, “The Defence of Guinevere” (vol. E, p. 560). For modern adap-

tations see Eliot, lines 78-149 (though unrhymed) of “Little Gidding” (vol. F, pp.

679-81); Heaney, “Station Island” (vol. F, p. 1102); Walcott, Omeros (vol. F, p. 947).

tetrameter

(Greek

“four measure”):

a term

of meter.

A line with

four stresses.

Coleridge, Christabel, line 31: “She stole along, she nothing spoke” (see vol. D, p. 468).

theme (Greek “proposition”): In literary criticism the term designates what the work is about; the theme is the concept that unifies a given work of literature.

third-person narration: relevant to point of view. A narration in which the narrator recounts a narrative of characters referred to explicitly or implicitly by third-person

LITERARY

TERMINOLOGY

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pronouns (“he,” she,” etc.), without the limitation of a first-person narration. Thus Johnson, The History of Rasselas. topographical poem (Greek “place writing”): a genre. A poem devoted to the meditative description of particular places. Thus Gray, “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College” (see vol. C, p. 994).

topos (Greek “place,” plural topoi): a commonplace in the content of a given kind of literature. Originally, in classical rhetoric, the topoi were tried-and-tested stimuli to literary invention: lists of standard headings under which a subject might be investigated. In medieval narrative poems, for example, it was commonplace to begin with a description of spring. Writers did, of course, render the commonplace uncommon, as in Chaucer's spring scene at the opening of The Canterbury Tales (see vol. A, p. 261). tradition (from Latin “passing on”): A literary tradition is whatever is passed on or revived from the past in a single literary culture, or drawn from others to enrich a writer's culture. “Tradition” is fluid in reference, ranging from small to large referents: thus it may refer to a relatively small aspect of texts (e.g., the tradition of iambic pentameter), or it may, at the other extreme, refer to the body of texts that constitute a canon.

tragedy: a genre. A dramatic representation of the fall of kings or nobles, beginning in happiness and ending in catastrophe. Later transferred to other social milieux. The opposite of comedy; thus Shakespeare, Othello (see vol. B, p. 806). tragic mode: Many genres (epic poetry, legendary chronicles, tragedy, the novel) either do or can participate in a tragic mode, by representing the fall of noble protagonists and the irreparable ravages of human society and history. tragicomedy: a genre. A play in which potentially tragic events turn out to have a happy, or comic, ending. Thus Shakespeare, Measure for Measure. translation (Latin “carrying across”): the rendering of a text written in one language into another. trimeter (Greek “three measure”): a term of meter. A line with three stresses. Her-

bert, “Discipline,” line 1: “Throw away thy rod” (see vol. B, p. 1274).

triplet: a verse form. A tercet rhyming on the same sound. Pope inserts triplets among heroic couplets to emphasize a particular thought; see Essay on Criticism, 315-17 (vol. C, p. 497).

trochee: a term of rhythm. A two-syllable foot following the pattern, in English verse, of stressed followed by unstressed syllable, producing a falling effect. Thus, for example, “Texas.” type (Greek “impression, figure”): a figure of thought. In Christian allegorical interpretation of the Old Testament, pre-Christian figures were regarded as “types,” or foreshadowings, of Christ or the Christian dispensation. Typology has been the source of much visual and literary art in which the parallelisms between old and new are extended to nonbiblical figures; thus the virtuous plowman in Piers Plowman becomes a type of Christ. unities: According to a theory supposedly derived from Aristotle’s Poetics, the events represented in a play should have unity of time, place, and action: that the play take up no more time than the time of the play, or at most a day; that the space of action should be within a single city; and that there should be no subplot. See Johnson, The Preface to Shakespeare (vol. C, p. 807).

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vernacular (from Latin verna, “servant”): the language of the people, as distinguished from learned and arcane languages. From the later Middle Ages especially, the “vernacular” languages and literatures of Europe distinguished themselves from the learned languages and literatures of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew.

verse form: The terms related to meter and rhythm describe the shape of individual lines. Lines of verse are combined to produce larger groupings, called verse forms. These larger groupings are in the first instance stanzas. The combination of a certain meter and stanza shape constitutes the verse form, of which there are many standard kinds. villanelle: a verse form. A fixed form of usually five tercets and a quatrain employing only two rhyme sounds altogether, rhyming aba for the tercets and abaa for the quatrain, with a complex pattern of two refrains. Derived from a French fixed form. Thomas, “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night” (see vol. F, p. 833).

wit: Originally a synonym for “reason” in Old and Middle English, “wit” became a literary ideal in the Renaissance as brilliant play of the full range of mental resources. For eighteenth-century writers, the notion necessarily involved pleasing expression, as in Pope’s definition of true wit as “Nature to advantage dressed, / What oft was thought, but ne’er so well expressed” (Essay on Criticism, lines 297— 98; see vol. C, p. 496-97). See also Johnson, Lives of the Poets, “Cowley,” on “metaphysical wit” (see vol. C, p. 817). Romantic theory of the imagination deprived wit of its full range of apprehension, whence the word came to be restricted to its modern sense, as the clever play of mind that produces laughter.

zeugma (Greek “a yoking”): a figure of thought. A figure whereby one word applies to two or more words in a sentence, and in which the applications are surprising, either because one is unusual, or because the applications are made in very different ways; Pope, Rape of the Lock 3.7—8, in which the word “take” is used in two senses: “Here thou, great Anna! whom

three realms obey, / Dost sometimes counsel take—

and sometimes tea” (see vol. C, p. 515).

B: Publishing History, Censorship By the time we read texts in published books, they have already been treated—that is, changed by authors, editors, and printers—in many ways. Although there are differences across history, in each period literary works are subject to pressures of many kinds, which apply before, while, and after an author writes. The pressures might be financial, as in the relations of author and patron; commercial, as in the marketing of books; and legal, as in, during some periods, the negotiation through official and unofficial censorship. In addition, texts in all periods undergo technological processes, as they move from the material forms in which an author produced them to the forms in which they are presented to readers. Some of the terms below designate important material forms in which books were produced, disseminated, and surveyed across the historical span of this anthology. Others designate the skills developed to understand these processes. The anthology’s introductions to individual periods discuss the particular forms these phenomena took in different eras.

bookseller: In England, and particularly in London, commercial bookmaking and -selling enterprises came into being in the early fourteenth century. These were loose organizations of artisans who usually lived in the same neighborhoods (around St. Paul's Cathedral in London). A bookseller or dealer would coordinate the production

LITERARY

TERMINOLOGY

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AZO

of hand-copied books for wealthy patrons (see patronage), who would order books to be custom-made. After the introduction of printing in the late fifteenth century, authors generally sold the rights to their work to booksellers, without any further royalties. Booksellers, who often had their own shops, belonged to the Stationers’ Company. This system lasted into the eighteenth century. In 1710, however, authors were for the first time granted copyright, which tipped the commercial balance in their favor, against booksellers. censorship: The term applies to any mechanism for restricting what can be published. Historically, the reasons for imposing censorship are heresy, sedition, blasphemy, libel, or obscenity. External censorship is imposed by institutions having legislative sanctions at their disposal. Thus the pre-Reformation Church imposed the Constitutions of Archbishop Arundel of 1409, aimed at repressing the Lollard “heresy.” After the Reformation, some key events in the history of censorship are as follows: 1547, when anti-Lollard legislation and legislation made by Henry VIII concerning treason by writing (1534) were abolished; the Licensing Order of 1643, which legislated that works be licensed, through the Stationers’ Company, prior to publication; and 1695, when the last such Act stipulating prepublication licensing lapsed. Postpublication censorship continued in different periods for different reasons. Thus, for example, British publication of D. H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928) was obstructed (though unsuccessfully) in 1960, under the Obscene Publications Act of 1959. Censorship can also be international: although not published in Iran, Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses (1988) was censored in that country, where the

leader, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, proclaimed a fatwa (religious decree) promising the author’s execution. Very often censorship is not imposed externally, however: authors or publishers can censor work in anticipation of what will incur the wrath of readers or the penalties of the law. Victorian and Edwardian publishers of novels, for example, urged authors to remove potentially offensive material, especially for serial publication in popular magazines.

codex: the physical format of most modern books and medieval manuscripts, consisting of a series of separate leaves gathered into quires and bound together, often with a cover. In late antiquity, the codex largely replaced the scroll, the standard form of written documents in Roman culture. copy text: the particular text of a work used by a textual editor as the basis of an edition of that work. copyright: the legal protection afforded to authors for control of their work’s publication, in an attempt to ensure due financial reward. Some key dates in the history of copyright in the United Kingdom are as follows: 1710, when a statute gave authors the exclusive right to publish their work for fourteen years, and fourteen years more if the author were still alive when the first term had expired; 1842, when the period of authorial control was extended to forty-two years; and 1911, when the term was extended yet further, to fifty years after the author’s death. In 1995 the period of protection was harmonized with the laws in other European countries to be the life of the author plus seventy years. In the United States no works first published before 1923 are in copyright. Works published since 1978 are, as in the United Kingdom, protected for the life of the author plus seventy years. folio: the leaf formed by both sides of a single page. Each folio has two sides: a recto (the front side of the leaf, on the right side of adouble-page spread in an open codex), and a verso (the back side of the leaf, on the left side of a double-page spread). Modern book pagination follows the pattern 1, 2, 3, 4, while medieval manuscript pagination follows the pattern Ir, lv, 2r, 2v. “Folio” can also designate the size of a printed book. Books come in different shapes, depending originally on the number of times a standard sheet of paper is folded. One fold produces a large volume, a folio book; two folds

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LITERARY

TERMINOLOGY

produce a quarto, four an octavo, and six a very small duodecimo. Generally speaking, the larger the book, the grander and more expensive. Shakespeare’s plays were, for example, first printed in quartos, but were gathered into a folio edition in 1623. foul papers: versions of a work before an author has produced, if she or he has, a final copy (a “fair copy”) with all corrections removed. incunabulum (plural “incunabula”): any printed book produced in Europe before 1501. Famous incunabula include the Gutenberg Bible, printed in 1455. manuscript (Latin, “written by hand”): Any text written physically by hand is a manuscript. Before the introduction of printing with moveable type in 1476, all texts in England were produced and reproduced by hand, in manuscript. This is an extremely labor-intensive task, using expensive materials (e.g., vellum, or parchment); the cost of books produced thereby was, accordingly, very high. Even after the introduction of printing, many texts continued to be produced in manuscript. This is obviously true of letters, for example, but until the eighteenth century, poetry written within aristocratic circles was often transmitted in manuscript copies.

paleography (Greek “ancient writing”): the art of deciphering, describing, and dating forms of handwriting.

parchment: animal skin, used as the material for handwritten books before the introduction of paper. See also vellum. patronage, patron (Latin “protector”): Many technological, legal, and commercial supports were necessary before professional authorship became possible. Although some playwrights (e.g., Shakespeare) made a living by writing for the theater, other authors needed, principally, the large-scale reproductive capacities of printing and the security of copyright to make a living from writing. Before these conditions obtained, many authors had another main occupation, and most authors had to rely on patronage. In different periods, institutions or individuals offered material support, or patronage, to authors. Thus in Anglo-Saxon England, monasteries afforded the conditions of writing to monastic authors. Between the twelfth and the seventeenth centuries, the main source of patronage was the royal court. Authors offered patrons prestige and ideological support in return for financial support. Even as the conditions of professional authorship came into being at the beginning of the eighteenth century, older forms of direct patronage were not altogether displaced until the middle of the century.

periodical: Whereas journalism, strictly, applies to daily writing (from French jour, “day”), periodical writing appears at larger, but still frequent, intervals, characteristically in the form of the essay. Periodicals were developed especially in the eighteenth century.

printing: Printing, or the mechanical reproduction of books using moveable type, was invented in Germany in the mid-fifteenth century by Johannes Gutenberg; it quickly spread throughout Europe. William Caxton brought printing into England from the Low Countries in 1476. Much greater powers of reproduction at much lower prices transformed every aspect of literary culture.

publisher: the person or company responsible for the commissioning and publicizing of printed matter. In the early period of printing, publisher, printer, and bookseller were often the same person. This trend continued in the ascendancy of the Stationers’ Company, between the middle of the sixteenth and the end of the seventeenth centuries. Toward the end of the seventeenth century, these three functions began to separate, leading to their modern distinctions.

LITERARY

TERMINOLOGY

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quire: When medieval manuscripts were assembled, a few loose sheets of parchment or paper would first be folded together and sewn along the fold. This formed a quire (also known as a “gathering” or “signature”). Folded in this way, four large sheets of parchment would produce eight smaller manuscript leaves. Multiple quires could then be bound together to form a codex. royalties: an agreed-upon proportion of the price of each copy of a work sold, paid by the publisher to the author, or an agreed-upon fee paid to the playwright for each performance of a play. scribe: In manuscript culture, the scribe is the copyist who reproduces a text by hand.

scriptorium (plural “scriptoria”): a place for producing written documents and manuscripts.

serial publication: generally referring to the practice, especially common in the nineteenth century, of publishing novels a few chapters at a time, in periodicals. Stationers’ Company: The Stationers’ Company was an English guild incorporating various tradesmen, including printers, publishers, and booksellers, skilled in the production and selling of books. It was formed in 1403, received its royal charter in 1557, and served as a means both of producing and of regulating books. Authors would sell the manuscripts of their books to individual stationers, who incurred the risks and took the profits of producing and selling the books. The stationers entered their rights over given books in the Stationers’ Register. They also regulated the book trade and held their monopoly by licensing books and by being empowered to seize unauthorized books and imprison resisters. This system of licensing broke down in the social unrest of the Civil War and Interregnum (1640—60), and it ended in 1695. Even after

the end of licensing, the Stationers’ Company continued to be an intrinsic part of the copyright process, since the 1710 copyright statute directed that copyright had to be registered at Stationers’ Hall. subscription: An eighteenth-century system of bookselling somewhere between direct patronage and impersonal sales. A subscriber paid half the cost of a book before publication and half on delivery. The author received these payments directly. The subscriber’s name appeared in the prefatory pages. textual criticism: Works in all periods often exist in many subtly or not so subtly different forms. This is especially true with regard to manuscript textual reproduction, but it also applies to printed texts. Textual criticism is the art, developed from the fifteenth century in Italy but raised to new levels of sophistication from the eighteenth century, of deciphering different historical states of texts. This art involves the analysis of textual variants, often with the aim of distinguishing authorial from scribal forms. variants: differences that appear among different manuscripts or printed editions of the same text. vellum: animal skin, used as the material for handwritten books before the intro-

duction of paper. See also parchment. watermark: the trademark of a paper manufacturer, impressed into the paper but largely invisible unless held up to light.

Geographic Nomenclature

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The British Isles refers to the prominent group of islands off the northwest coast of Europe, especially to the two largest, Great Britain and Ireland. At present these comprise two sovereign states: the Republic of Lreland, and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland—known for short as the United Kingdom or the U.K. Most of the smaller islands are part of the U.K. but a few, like the Isle of Man and the tiny Channel Islands, are largely independent. The U.K. is often loosely referred to as “Britain” or “Great Britain” and is sometimes called simply, if inaccurately, “England.” For obvious reasons, the latter usage is rarely heard among the inhabitants of the other countries of the U.K.—Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland (sometimes called Ulster). England is by far the most populous part of the kingdom, as well as the seat of its capital, London. From the first to the fifth century c.£. most of what is now England and Wales was a province of the Roman Empire called Britain (in Latin, Britannia). After the fall of Rome, much of the island was invaded and settled by peoples from northern Germany and Denmark speaking what we now call Old English. These peoples are collectively known as the Anglo-Saxons, and the word England is related to the first element of their name. By the time of the Norman Conquest (1066) most of the kingdoms founded by the Anglo-Saxons and subsequent Viking invaders had coalesced into the kingdom of England, which, in the latter Middle Ages, conquered and largely absorbed the neighboring Celtic kingdom of Wales. In 1603 James VI of Scotland inherited the island’s other throne as James I of England, and for the next hundred years—except for the two decades of Puritan rule—Scotland (both its English-speaking Lowlands and its Gaelic-speaking Highlands) and England (with Wales) were two kingdoms under a single king. In 1707 the Act of Union welded them together as the United Kingdom of Great Britain. Ireland, where English rule had begun in the twelfth century and been tightened in the sixteenth, was incorporated by the 1800-1801 Act of Union into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. With the division of Ireland and the establishment of the Irish Free State after World War I, this name was modified to its present form, and in 1949 the Irish Free State bedanié the Republic of Ireland, or Eire. In 1999 Scotland elected a separate parliament it had relinquished in 1707, and Wales elected an assembly it lost in 1409; neither Scotland nor Wales ceased to be part of the United Kingdom. The British Isles are further divided into counties, which in Great Britain are also known as shires. This word, with its vowel shortened in pronunciation, forms the suffix in the names of many counties, such as Yorkshire, Wiltshire, Somersetshire. The Latin names Britannia (Britain), Caledonia (Scotland), and Hibernia (Ireland) are sometimes used in poetic diction; so too is Britain’s ancient Celtic name, Albion. Because of its accidental resemblance to albus (Latin for “white”),

Albion is especially associated with the chalk cliffs that seem to gird much of the English coast like defensive walls. The British Empire took its name from the British Isles because it was created not only by the English but also by the Irish, Scots, and Welsh, as well as by civilians and servicemen

from other constituent

countries

of the empire.

Some

of the

empire's overseas colonies, or crown colonies, were populated largely by settlers of European origin and their descendants. These predominantly white settler colonies, such as Cantae Australia, and New Zealand, were allowed significant self-

government A32

in the nineteenth century and recognized as dominions in the early

GEOGRAPHIC

NOMENCLATURE

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A33

twentieth century. The white dominions became members of the Commonwealth of Nations, also called the Commonwealth, the British Commonwealth, and “the Old Commonwealth”

at different times, an association of sovereign states

under the symbolic leadership of the British monarch. Other overseas colonies of the empire had mostly indigenous populations (or, in

the Caribbean, the descendants of imported slaves, indentured servants, and others).

These colonies were granted political independence after World War II, later than the dominions, and have often been referred to since as postcolonial nations. In South and Southeast Asia, India and Pakistan gained independence in 1947, followed by other countries including Sri Lanka (formerly Ceylon), Burma (now Myanmar), Malaya (now Malaysia), and Singapore. In West and East Africa, the Gold Coast was decolonized as Ghana in 1957, Nigeria in 1960, Sierra Leone in 1961, Uganda in 1962, Kenya in 1963, and so forth, while in southern Africa, the

white minority government of South Africa was already independent in 1931, though majority rule did not come until 1994. In the Caribbean, Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago won independence in 1962, followed by Barbados in 1966, and other islands of the British West Indies in the 1970s and ’80s. Other regions with nations emerging

out of British colonial rule included Central America (British Honduras, now Belize), South America (British Guiana, now Guyana), the Pacific islands (Fiji),

and Europe (Cyprus, Malta). After decolonization, many of these nations chose to remain within a newly conceived Commonwealth and are sometimes referred to as “New Commonwealth”

countries. Some

nations, such as Ireland, Pakistan, and

South Africa, withdrew from the Commonwealth, though South Africa and Pakistan eventually rejoined, and others, such as Burma (now Myanmar), gained inde-

pendence outside the Commonwealth. Britain’s last major overseas colony, Hong Kong, was returned to Chinese sovereignty in 1997, but while Britain retains only a handful of dependent territories, such as Bermuda and Montserrat, the scope of the Commonwealth remains vast, with 30 percent of the world’s population.

One of the most dramatic changes to the system of British money came in 1971. In the system previously in place, the pound consisted of 20 shillings, each containing 12 pence, making 240 pence to the pound. Since 1971, British money has been calculated on the decimal system, with 100 pence to the pound. Britons’ experience of paper money did not change very drastically: as before, 5- and 10-pound notes constitute the majority of bills passing through their hands (in addition, 20- and 50- pound notes have been added). But the shift necessitated a whole new way of thinking about and exchanging coins and marked the demise of the shilling, one of the fundamental units of British monetary history. Many other coins, still frequently encountered in literature, had already passed. These include the groat, worth 4 pence (the word “groat” is often used to signify a trifling sum); the angel (which depicted the archangel Michael triumphing over a dragon), valued at 10 shillings; the mark, worth in its day two-thirds of a pound or 13 shillings 4 pence; and the sovereign, a gold coin initially worth 22 shillings 6 pence, later valued at 1 pound, last circulated in 1932. One prominent older coin, the guinea, was worth a pound and a shilling; though it has not been minted since 1813, a very few quality items or prestige awards (like the purse in a horse race) may still be quoted in guineas. (The table below includes some other well-known, obsolete coins.) Colloqui-

ally, a pound was (and is) called a quid; a shilling a bob; sixpence, a tanner; a copper could refer to a penny, a half-penny, or a farthing (4 penny).

Old Currency

1 pound note 10 shilling (half-pound note)

New Currency

1 pound coin (or note in Scotland) 50 pence

5 shilling (crown) 2% shilling (half crown)

20 pence

D shilling (florin)

10 pence

1 shilling

5 pence

6 pence

242 pence

| penny

2 pence | penny V2 penny

4 penny (farthing)

Throughout its tenure as a member of the European Union, Britain contemplated but did not make the change to the EU’s common currency, the Euro. Many Britons strongly identify their country with its rich commercial history and tend to view

A34

BRITISH

MONEY

|

ADS

their currency patriotically as a national symbol. Now, with the planned withdrawal of the United Kingdom from the EU, the pound seems here to stay. Even more challenging than sorting out the values of obsolete coins is calculating for any given period the purchasing power of money, which fluctuates over time by its very nature. At the beginning of the twentieth century,

| pound was worth about 5

American dollars, though those bought three to four times what they now do. Now, the pound buys anywhere from $1.20 to $1.50. As difficult as it is to generalize, it is clear that money used to be worth much more than it is currently. In Anglo-Saxon times, the most valuable circulating coin was the silver penny: four would buy a sheep. Beyond long-term inflationary trends, prices varied from times of plenty to those marked by poor harvests; from peacetime to wartime; from the country to the metropolis (life in London has always been very expensive); and wages varied according to the availability of labor (wages would sharply rise, for instance, during the devastating Black Death in the fourteenth century). The following chart provides a glimpse of some actual prices of given periods and their changes across time, though all the variables mentioned above prevent them from being definitive. Even from one year to the next, an added tax on gin or tea could drastically raise prices, and a lottery ticket could cost much more the night before the drawing than just a month earlier. Still, the prices quoted below do indicate important trends, such as the disparity of incomes in British society and the costs of basic commodities. In the chart on the following page, the symbol £ is used for pound, s. for shilling, d. for a penny (from Latin denarius); a sum would normally be written £2.19.3, i.e., 2 pounds, 19 shillings,

3 pence. (This is Leopold Bloom’s budget for the day depicted in Joyce’s novel Ulysses [1922]; in the new currency, it would be about £2.96.)

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Dialogue Between the Soul and Body, A, 1342

Forerunners, The, 1273

Forest, The, 1096 Forget not yet, 128

INDEX

Forget not yet the tried intent, 128 For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love, 927

i!

"AS7,

Hesperides, 1307 His Farewell to Sack, 1309

His Prayer to Ben Jonson, 1315

Fortune hath taken away my love, 233 Fourth Book of Virgil, The, 141 Foxe, John, 159 Friendship’s Mystery, To My Dearest Lucasia, 1336

His Return to London, 1316 History of the Rebellion, The, 1421

History of the World, The, 536 Hobbes, Thomas,

1405

Hoby, Sir Thomas, 176

From fairest creatures we desire increase, 723 From the dull confines of the drooping west, 1316

From you have I been absent in the spring, 732

Full many a glorious morning have I seen, Teas Funeral, The, 938

Hock Cart, or Harvest Home, The, 1312

Holdfast, The, 1269 Holy Sonnets, 960 Homily Against Disobedience and Willful Rebellion, An, 165 Hooker, Richard, 167 Horatian Ode, An, 1356

Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey, 133 How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean,

Garden, The, 1354 Gascoigne, George, 506 Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, 1312

General history of the Turks, The, 654 Geographical History of Africa, A, 616 Get up! Get up for shame! The blooming morn,

1310

Give way, an ye be ravished by the sun, 1315 Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break, 1295

1271

How like an angel came I down!, 1431 How like a winter hath my absence been, 732 How oft when thou, my music, music play’st, 735 How rich, O Lord! how fresh thy visits are!, 1283

How Roses Came Red, 1314 How Soon Hath Time, 1489

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of

Go, soul, the body’s guest, 528

Go and catch a falling star, 924 Goe little booke: thy selfe present, 241 “Golden Speech,” The, 235 Good and great God, can I not think of thee, 1099

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward, 965 Good-Morrow, The, 923

Gouge, William, 1205

youth, 1489 How vainly men themselves amaze,

1354

Hunting of the Hare, The, 1436 Hutchinson, Lucy, 1418

Hyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon, 1421 Hymn to Christ, at the Author's Last Going

into Germany, A, 966

Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness, 967 Hymn to God the Father, A, 968

Grasshopper, The, 1330 Greville, Fulke, 512

I am a little world made cunningly, 961 I Am the Door, 1295

Grey, Lady Jane, 199 Gut eats all day, and lechers all the night, 1095

I can love both fair and brown, 927

Had we but world enough, and time, 1346

I care not for these ladies, 522 Idea, 518

Hakluyt, Richard, 612

I dreamed this mortal part of mine, 1308

Halkett, Lady Anne,

If all the world and love were young, 527 I find no peace, 122 I find no peace, and all my war is done, 122

1424

Happy those early days! when I, 1280 Hariot, Thomas, 643 Hark how the mower Damon sung, 1351 Harvey, William, 1236 Have ye beheld (with much delight), 1314 Having been tenant long to a rich lord, 1258

Hence loathéd Melancholy, 1459 Hence vain deluding joys, 1463 Herbert, George, 1255

If |were dead, and in my place, 1277 If poisonous minerals, and if that tree, 962 If there were (oh!) an Hellespont of cream, 520 If this be love, to draw a weary breath, 516

Herbert, Mary (Sidney), Countess of Pembroke, 604 Here a little child I stand, 1318

I grieve and dare not show my discontent, 230 I have done one braver thing, 925 | have examined and do find, 1337 I have lost, and lately, these, 1307 I hope and fear, I pray and hold my peace, 514

Here lies, to each her parents’ ruth, 1091 Here we are all, by day; by night, we’re hurled,

Indifferent, The, 927

1308

Her eyes the glowworm lend thee, 1316 Hero and Leander, 659

Herrick, Robert, 1306

Il Penseroso, 1463

In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn, 738 I now think Love is rather deaf than blind, 1101

Institution of Christian Religion, The, 153 In the Holy Nativity of Our Lord God: A Hymn Sung as by the Shepherds, 1297 In the nativity of time, 1332 In the old age black was not counted fair, 735 In this little urn is laid, 1317

Into these loves who but for passion looks, 518

Inviting a Friend to Supper, 1094 In what torn ship soever I embark, 966

I saw eternity the other night, 1283 I saw new worlds beneath the water lie, 1433 I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, 1307 I struck the board and cried, “No more, 1270

Life of Dr. John Donne, The, 976 Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, 728 Little think’st thou, poor flower, 939

Locke, Anne Vaughan, 505 Lodge, Thomas, 513 Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, 253 Long love that in my thought doth harbor, The, 120 Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, 723

Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word?, 1263

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

I that have been a lover, and could show it, 1100

1259 Love (3), 1275

I think not on the state, nor am concerned, 1335

I threatened to observe the strict decree, 1269 I traveled on, seeing the hill where lay, 1268 It will be looked for, book, when some but

Love, that doth reign and live within my thought, 135 Love, who lives and reigns in my thought and keeps, 121 Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back, 1275

see, 1089

I will enjoy thee now, my Celia, come, 1325 I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I, 923

Lovelace, Richard, 1329 Love Made in the First Age. To Chloris, 1332

Jack and Joan, they think no ill, 523

Lover Showeth How He Is Forsaken of Such as He Sometime Enjoyed, The, 126

Jonson, Ben, 991

Love's Alchemy, 932

Jordan (1), 1262 Jordan (2), 1266

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, 586

Joy, I did lock thee up; but some bad man,

Lucasta, 1329

Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are,

1268

1093

Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn

Luke 11.{27] Blessed be the paps which Thou

forbids, 945

hast sucked, 1296

Knolles, Richard, 654

Lullaby of aLover, The, 507

LAllegro, 1459 Lanyer, Aemilia, 980

Lycidas, 1467

Luxurious

man, to bring his vice in use,

1350

Lyly, John, 536

Lecture upon the Shadow, A, 941

Leo Africanus, 616

Madam, withouten many words, 125

Let man’s soul be a sphere, and then, in this, 965

Man,

Let me not to the marriage of true minds, 734 Let me pour forth, 931 Let not my love be called idolatry, 732 Letter of the Lady Jane, Sent unto her Father, A, 205 Letter of the Lady Jane to M. H., A, 202 Letter to Elizabeth I, May 17, 1568, A (Mary, Queen of Scots), 212

Letter to Henry VIII (Mary Tutor), 195 Letter to King James VI of Scotland, February 14, 1587, A (Elizabeth I), 232 Letter to Mary, Queen of Scots, February 24, 1567, A (Elizabeth I), 229

Letter to Robert Dudley, Earl ofLeicester, February 10, 1586, A (Elizabeth I), 231

Letter to Sir Amyas Paulet, August 1586, A (Elizabeth I), 232 Leviathan,

1406

Lie, The, 528

1265

Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale, 37 Mark but this flea, and mark in this, 923 Marlowe, Christopher, 658 Married State, A, 1334

Martial, the things for to attain, 141 Marvell, Andrew,

1339

Mary, Queen of Scots, 208 Mary I (Mary Tudor), 194 Meditation ofa Penitent Sinner, A, 505 Meeting with Time, “Slack thing,” said I, 1267

Memoirs, The (Halkett),

1425

Memoirs of the Life of Colonel John Hutchinson,

1419

Methought I Saw My Late Espouséd Saint, 1493

Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,

531

Milton, John, 1396, 1447

Mine own John Poins, 131

INDEX

Mine own John Poins, since ye delight to know, 131 Moderate, The, No. 28, 16—23 January 1649, 1386 More, Sir Thomas, 41, 151 Mower Against Gardens, The, 1350

Mower's Song, The, 1353 Mower to the Glowworms,

The, 1353

Much suspected by me, 222 Music’s Duel, 1291 Muzzle forMelastomus, A, 1202 My galley, 123 My galley charged with forgetfulness, 123 My God, I heard this day, 1265 My love is as a fever, longing still, 738 My Love is of a birth as rare, 1348 My lute, awake!, 127 My lute, awake! Perform the last, 127 My mind was once the true survey, 1353 My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun,

736 My Picture Left in Scotland, 1101 My ship laden with forgetfulness passes through a harsh sea, 124 My sweetest Lesbia, 521 My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, 521

My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still, 730

NESS)

O, how I faint when I of you do write, 730 O, who shall from this dungeon raise, 1342 Obedience of aChristian Man, The, 149 Ode on Cary and Morison, The, 1101 Ode to Himself, 1108

Of Domestical Duties, 1205 Of Great Place, 1216 Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit, 1496

Of Marriage and Single Life, 1214 Of Masques and Triumphs, 1222 Of Negotiating, 1221 Of Plantations, 1219 Of Studies (1597 version), 1223

Of Studies (1625 version), 1224 Of Superstition, 1218 Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, 168

Of Truth, 1213

Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one, 965

Oh, what a lantern, what a lamp of light, 606 O happy dames, that may embrace, 140 O Lord, in me there lieth nought, 606 On Giles and Joan, 1091 On Gut, 1095 On Hellespont, guilty of true-loves’ blood, 660 On Leaping over the Moon, 1433 On Lucy, Countess of Bedford, 1092 On Monsieur's Departure, 230

My worthy lord, I pray you wonder not, 508

Narrative of the Execution of the Queen of Scots, 214 Nature, that washed her hands in milk, 531 Needs must I leave, and yet needs must I love,

515 Never love unless you can, 525

On My First Daughter, 1091 On My First Son, 1092 On Shakespeare, 1459 On Something, That Walks Somewhere, 1090

On the Death of My First and Dearest Child, Hector Philips, 1338 On the Late Massacre in Piedmont, 1492

New Atlantis, The, 1231

On the Morning of Christ's Nativity, 1451

New Year's Gift Sent to the Parliament and

On the New Forcers of Conscience under the

Army, A, 1400

Night, The, 1288 Night-Piece, to Julia, The, 1316 Noble Numbers, 1318 Nocturnal upon Saint Lucy's Day, Being the Shortest Day, A, 932

No longer mourn for me when I am dead, (29)

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done, 727 Not marble nor the gilded monuments, 727 Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul, HES) Novum

Organum,

1227

Now Pontius Pilate is to judge the cause, 983

Now that the heavens and the earth and the wind are silent, 136

Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams, 1291 Now winter nights enlarge, 524 Nymph Complaining for the Death of Her Fawn, The, 1344

Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd, The, 527

Long Parliament, 1490 On the Wounds of Our Crucified Lord, 1296 Oration of Queen Mary in the Guildhall, on

the First of February, 1554, The, 198 Othello, 803 O these wakeful wounds of thine!, 1296 O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power, 734 O thou that swing’st upon the waving hair, 1330

Pamphilia to Amphilanthus, 1116 Paradise Lost, 1493 Passage of Our Most Dread Sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth through the City of London to Westminster on the Day before Her Coronation, The, 223

Passionate Shepherd to His Love, The, 678

Patriarcha, or The Natural Power ofKings Defended Against the Unnatural Liberty of the People, 1394 Peace | do not find, and [ have no wish to make war, 123 Perfect Diurnal of Some Passages in Parliament, No. 288, A, Tuesday, January 30, 1388

A60

|

INDEX

Phelps, Katherine, 1333 Phyllis, 514

Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers, The, 1349

Pilgrimage, The, 1268 Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure, 513 Poetess’s Hasty Resolution, The, 1435 Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth, 737 Prayer (1), 1261

Sidney, Sir Philip, 539 Silence, and Stealth of Days! 1281 Silence, and stealth of days! ‘tis now, 1281 Silex Scintillans, 1278 Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, 728

Since | am coming to that holy room, 967 Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt, 964

Prayer, the church’s banquet; angels’ age, 1261

Prayer ofthe Lady Jane, A, 205 Principal Navigations, 612 Psalm 52, 605 Psalm 139, 606 Psalm 119: O, 606 Pulley, The, 1271

Queen and Huntress, 1105 Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, 1105 Ralegh, Sir Walter, 526 Rapture, A, 1325

Reading my verses, I liked them so well, 1435 Reason of Church Government Urged Against Prelaty, The, 1474

Redemption, 1258 Regeneration, 1278

Sing lullaby, as women do, 507 Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye, 728 [Sir Walter Ralegh to His Son], 528 Skelton, John, 36

So cruel prison how could betide, 137 So cruel prison how could betide, alas, 137

Some have no money, 39 Some that have deeper digged love’s mine than I, 932 Song (“Go and catch a falling star”), 924 Song (“Sweetest love, I do not go”), 929 Song, A (“Ask me no more where Jove bestows”), 1323

Song: To Celia, 1098 Songs and Sonnets, 923 Songs and Sonnets, Written by the Right Honorable Lord Henry Howard, Late Earl ofSurrey, and Other, 504

Song to Amoret, A, 1277

Relation Concerning Dorothy Waugh's Cruel Usage by the Mayor of Carlisle, A, 1429 Relic, The, 940 Religio Medici, 1247 Renowned empress, and Great Britain’s queen, 981 Retreat, The, 1280 Rima 134 (Petrach), Rima 140 (Petrach), Rima 164 (Petrach), Rima 189 (Petrach), Rima 190 (Petrach),

Sonnet, to the Noble Lady, the Lady Mary Wroth, A, 1100 Sonnets (Milton), 1489 Sonnets (Shakespeare), 723 Soote season, The, 134

So shall I live supposing thou art true, 731 Southwell, Robert,

123 121 136 124 121

170

Speech to a Joint Delegation of Lords and Commons,

November

5, 1566, A, 226

Speech to the House of Commons, January 28, 1563, 261 Speech to the Troops at Tilbury, 234

Rima 310 (Petrach), 135

Speght, Rachel, 1202

Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise, 1258

Spenser, Edmund, 238 Spit in my face ye Jews, and pierce my side,

Roses at first were white, 1314

962 Stand still, and I will read to thee, 941 Stand whoso list, 129 Stand whoso list upon the slipper top, 129 Steps to the Temple, 1295 Sun Rising, The, 926

Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum, 981 Samson Agonistes,

1728

Sappho to Philaenis, 947 Sarracoll, John, 634 Satire 3, 944 Schoolmaster, The, 172, 200

Suppose he had been tabled at thy teats,

Scourge of Folly, The, 520

Sure it was so. Man in those early days,

Second Letter to Her Father, A (Lady Jane

Grey), 207 Second voyage to Guinea, The, 622 See the chariot at hand here of Love, 1099

1296

1282

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 1264 Sweetest love, I do not go, 929 Swetnam, Joseph, 1200

See with what simplicity, 1349 Shakespeare, William, 718 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?, 724

Tell me not, sweet, | am unkind, 1329

Shepheardes Calender, The, 241 Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear, 964

Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, The, 1396 ThAssyrians’ king, in peace with foul desire,

Temple, The, 1257

136

INDEX

That time of year thou may’st in me behold, 729

The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy, 230

The forward youth that would appear, 1356 The harbingers are come: see, see their mark, Pans

There is a garden in her face, 525 The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, 134 The wanton troopers riding by, 1344 Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame, 735 They Are All Gone into the World ofLight!, 1285

They flee from me, 125

They flee from me, that sometime did me seek, 125, 126 They that have power to hurt and will do none, 731

This is the month, and this the happy morn, 1451

|

A6l

To Saxham, 1323 To Sir Thomas Roe, 1093

To the Doubtful Reader, 981 To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison, 1102 To the Infant Martyrs, 1295 To the Lord General Cromwell, May 1652, 149]

To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, and What He Hath Left Us, 1106

To The Noblest & best of Ladies, the Countess of Denbigh, 1300 To the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty, 981 To the Right Honorable Sir Francis Walsingham, 613 To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time, 1312 To the Virtuous Reader, 982 Tottel, Richard, 504

To William Camden, 1090

This morning, timely rapt with holy fire, 1092

Traherne, Thomas,

Thomas More to His Friend Peter Giles, Warmest Greetings, 117

True discourse of the late voyages of discovery,

Thou art not, Penshurst, built to envious

True Relation of My Birth, Breeding, and Life,

show, 1096

1430

A, 626 A, 1438

Though frost and snow locked from mine eyes, 1323 Thou hast begun well, Roe, which stand well too, 1093

Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?, 960 Three things there be that prosper up apace, 528

Tudor, Mary (Mary I), 194 Tunning of Elinour Rumming, The, 39 Twelfth Night, 739 Twice forty months in wedlock I did stay, 1338

Twice or thrice had I loved thee, 930 Two loves I have of comfort and despair, 737 Tyndale, William,

149

Through that pure virgin-shrine, 1288 Throw away thy rod, 1274

Tyrant, why swell’st thou thus, 605

Time,

Undertaking, The, 925

1267

Tis not the work of force but skill, 1300 "Tis the year’s midnight and it is the day’s, 932 "Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand, 1321

"Tis true, ‘tis day; what though it be?, 930 To Althea, from Prison, 1331 To Ben Jonson,

132)

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,

Underwood,

1099

Unhappy Dido burns, and in her rage, 141 Unprofitableness, 1283 Upon Appleton House, 1361 Upon His Verses, 1316 Upon Jack and Jill. Epigram, 1314 Upon Julia's Clothes, 1317 Upon Prue, His Maid, 1317

Upon the Double Murder of King Charles,

1106

To Heaven, 1099

To His Book’s End, 1317 To his book’s end this last line he’d have placed, 1317

1335

Upon the Loss of His Mistresses, 1307

Upon the Nipples of Julia's Breast, 1314 Utopia, 44

To His Conscience, 1318 To His Coy Mistress, 1346 To John Donne, 1091

Valediction: Forbidding Mourning, A, 935 Valediction: Of Weeping, A, 931

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars, 1329

Vaughan, Henry, 1276

To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with Mr. Donne's

Verse Exchange between Elizabeth and Sir

Satires,

1093

To Marigolds, 1315 To Mrs. M. A. at Parting, 1337 To My Book, 1089

Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house and I, 1094 To Penshurst,

1096

Walter Ralegh, 233

Verses Written with a Diamond, 222 Vine, The, 1308 Virtue, 1264

Volpone, 993 Voyage set out by the right honorable the earl of Cumberland in the year 1586, The, 634

A62

|

INDEX

Walton, Izaak, 974

When that rich soul which to her heaven is

Waterfall, The, 1289 Waugh, Dorothy, 1428

When thou must home to shades of

Webster, John, 1157

Weep with me, all you that read, 1095 Well-meaning readers! you that come as friends, 1303

What heaven-entreated heart is this, 1300 What if this present were the world’s last night?, 963

gone, 949

underground, 523 When to her lute Corinna sings, 522 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought, 726

Where, like a pillow on a bed, 936 Where is that holy fire, which verse is said, 947

What is our life? 527

Where the remote Bermudas ride, 1341

What is our life? a play of passion, 527 What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones, 1459 What offspring other men have got, 1316 What vaileth truth? 124 What vaileth truth? or by it to take pain, 124 When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s

While that my soul repairs to her devotion,

eyes, 726

When all this All doth pass from age to age, Sul

Whenas in silks my Julia goes, 1317 When by thy scorn, O murderess, I am dead, 935

When first my lines of heavenly joys made mention, 1266

When first thou didst entice to thee my heart, 1260

When for the thorns with which I long, too long, 1341 When God at first made man, 1271 When [ a verse shall make, 1315 When I consider every thing that grows, 724

1262 Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm, 938 Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will, 736

Who list his wealth and ease retain, 130 Who says that fictions only and false hair, 1262

Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be? 1091

Whoso list to hunt, 121 Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, 121

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, 968 Windows, The, 1263

Winstanley, Gerrard, 1399 Within this sober frame expect, 1361 With lullay, lullay, like a child, 38

With what deep murmurs through time’s silent stealth, 1289 Wonder, 1431

When I Consider How My Light Is Spent, 1492 When I do count the clock that tells the time,

Woodmanship, 508

724 When in the chronicle of wasted time, 733

Wroth, Mary, 1110 Wyatt, Sir Thomas the Elder, 118

When Jill complains to Jack for want of meat,

Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest, 138

1314

When When When When

Love with unconfinéd wings, 1331 my devotions could not pierce, 1263 my grave is broke up again, 940 my love swears that she is made of

World, The, 1283

Ye living lamps, by whose dear light, 1353 Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 1468

truth, 736

When night’s black mantle could most darkness prove, 1116

Zephyrus returns and leads back the fine weather and the flowers, 135

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