No evidence whatever can be adduced to show that Greene was in any respect indebted to Marlowe'sEdward II.for his pseudo-chronicle onJames IV.Present information makes it seem probable that the plays were performed about the same time, Marlowe's play being, perhaps, a few months the earlier. The plays are quite different. Each dramatist had attained to the maturity of his powers through the purification of his artistic ideals, but whereas Marlowe's last play is held to the outlines of a rigorous art with an almost poignant reticence, Greene'sJames IV.manifests the sweetening and mellowing touch of a dignified and manly philosophy. Nor can we see any indebtedness in Greene's play to Peele'sEdward I., though the cruel abuse of the memory of Queen Elinor contained in that play can get its only justification on the theory that the play was written immediately after the Spanish Armada, and therefore two years beforeJames IV.But there is one chronicle play that Greene may have seen and that may have influenced him slightly. It is not possible here to go into the question of the authorship ofEdward III.So excellent is the play in its choicest passages that one would not be loath to assign portions of it to Marlowe, or to Shakespeare, or to impute the entire play to the collaboration of these poets. One would even welcome evidence that the hand of Greene is to be seen in the play. Fleay assigns the play to Marlowe and sets its date of production at 1590 or earlier, basing these suppositions upon a citation from this play in a presumably satirical allusion to Marlowe in Greene'sNever too Late; perhaps a strained double hypothesis, but one that has the possibility of truth.[14]One would tend to the theory thatthe play was written by Marlowe, on account of the total absence of comedy and a dulcet sweetness in the blank verse. If so it was an early study and must be placed beforeEdward II. Edward III.is likeJames IV.in the fact that it is not a pure chronicle play, but is based for its most effective scenes upon a romantic episode from Painter'sPalace of Pleasure.AsJames IV.goes back to a novella of Cinthio, the ultimate source of the romantic by-plot ofEdward III.is a novel by Bandello. The historical portions of the play are based on Holinshed. These romantic scenes, which comprise scene 2 of the first act and the entirety of the second act, are strikingly similar to the large theme ofJames IV.The love of King Edward for the beautiful Countess of Salisbury, whose castle he has rescued, is similar in its passion and its ill-success to the love of James for Ida. Both stories deal with Scottish wars, though inEdward III.the romantic element arises as a result of the English king's protection of his subject, the Countess of Salisbury, against the Scots, whereas inJames IV.the wars result from the unfortunate love of the Scottish king for his subject, Ida, and his consequent attempt to kill his English wife, Dorothea. Like James, Edward is willing to kill his queen in order to gain his love. The Countess of Salisbury's lines,
"As easy may my intellectual soulBe lent away, and yet my body live,As lend my body, palace to my soul,Away from her, and yet retain my soul,"
have something of Ida's incorruptible purity of principle when she asks Ateukin "can his warrant keep my soul from hell?" Ida's scorn of the man who would
"be a king of men and worldly pelfYet hath no power to rule and guide himself,"
is like King Edward's—
"Shall the large limit of fair BritannyBy me be overthrown, and shall I notMaster this little mansion of myself?Give me an armour of eternal steel!I go to conquer kings; and shall I not thenSubdue myself?"[15]
In no pre-Shakespearean drama outside of Greene's own work is the simple beauty of chaste womanhood presented with the passion and sympathy that are to be found inEdward III.Certainly Ida ofJames IV., the Countess of Salisbury ofEdward III., and Imogen of Shakespeare'sCymbelineare a trio of womanly beauty and purity. In respect of poetry, the Countess of Salisbury scenes ofEdward III., in spite of their somewhat cloying sweetness, transcend any sustained passages in Greene's works. Yet the poetry ofJames IV.is of the same order. If Greene could but have prolonged his vagrant notes of beauty he would have equalled the best in this play. In respect of dramaturgy and human psychologyJames IV.is far in advance ofEdward III.The simple and undeveloped story of love is in the hands of the more skilled plotter of plays complicated to a fit representation of the social implications of an act, and the passion of Edward is in James developed to the awful inward struggle of a sinning soul. In the absence of facts as to the authorship ofEdward III., and as to the date of its composition, it is impossible to draw any conclusions as to influence or inter-relationship. It is clear, however, that Greene's play is written in the spirit ofEdward III., in that it is an adaptation of the romantic motive that Greene knew so well how to compass to the purposes of the popular chronicle play.
James IV., which is the last undoubted play of Greene's composition, is also the best. Dramatically it is far in advance of any other of his plays, and there is almost no trace of the affected classical and mythological allusionthat had marked his earlier writing. Considerations of style and structure indicate that it was written soon afterFriar Bacon and Friar Bungay. Allusions to contemporary events, such as Dorothea's mention of the Irish uprisings, the idea of a union of England and Scotland, that run through the play, and the brave words spoken by Dorothea, who is not herself a maid, as a delicate compliment to Elizabeth in her French wars,
"Shall never Frenchman say an English maidOf threats of foreign force will be afraid,"
indicate that the play was produced about 1590. Gayley suggests that it was presented by Greene's company at court on 26th December 1590, or as one of their five performances in 1591. A pretty point is also made by the same scholar based upon a resemblance between lines in this play and certain lines of Peele's. Though the matter is too confused to serve well as chronological data it seems worthy of review if only for the reason that slightly different results may be reached than those indicated by Gayley. In the first scene of the first act ofJames IV.Ida has the following lines:
"And weel I wot, I heard a shepherd sing,That, like a bee, love hath a little sting."
Comparing this with lines in the fragment of Peele'sThe Hunting of Cupid, preserved in a manuscript volume of extracts by Drummond of Hawthornden, the conclusion is reached that it is Peele, the writer of pastoral, to whom Greene refers as "shepherd," and that Greene's lines are a direct transcription from Peele. Referring to the Stationers' Registers we learn that Peele'sThe Hunting of Cupidwas listed for 26th July 1591, certainly later than we should be willing to place the beginning of composition on Greene'sJames IV.The formal proviso, "That if it be hurtful to any other copy before licensed ... this to be void," may or may not indicate the existence of an earlier copy. That the general motive was in the air and had caught the ear of Greeneis clear from the snatches and fragments of it we find in his late work. In theMourning Garment,registered 1590, are lines moving upon the same rhyme and answering the same interrogation as Peele's verses:
"Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing.As sweet unto a shepherd as a king."[16]
One who gets this haunting strain in mind cannot fail to notice how frequently Greene uses the rhyme ofthing, bring, king,andstinginJames IV.Once it is:
"Although a bee be but a little thing,You know, fair queen, it hath a bitter sting."
And in the first scene of the second act Greene plays upon the repetition of this rhyme. Peele himself again uses the refrain inDecensus Astræ, licensed October 1591. The argument from the fact that "weel I wot" in Ida's line seems to reflect the same clause inThe Hunting of Cupidwould be stronger were it not that "weel I wot" occurs only in the Drummond manuscript and is not found in the fragment quoted by Dyce[17]from the Rawlinson manuscript. Here instead of "weel I wot" is found "for sure." As Greene himself has used the refrain in a song sung by a shepherd's wife it leaves room to doubt that either the swains ofThe Huntingor Peele himself was the shepherd. It is clear that the first general use of the motive had occurred in Greene'sMourning Garment. The positive objections to placingJames IV.subsequent to July 1591 lead one to one of three conclusions: (1) Peele's lyric had long been written before it was entered in theStationers' Registers, and in manuscript form inspired the strains in theMourning GarmentandJames IV.; (2) Greene himself provides the prototype of Peele's lyric in hisMourning Garmentverse and its cognate form inJames IV.; (3) or, as seems mostprobable, fragmentary strains that have been found are reminiscences of a popular song that has not yet been traced.
We have, a little arbitrarily perhaps, grouped the four indubitable plays of Greene's unassisted composition in order to formulate the developing characteristics of his dramatic genius. Yet there are other plays that raise problems no less interesting than those we have considered, and that might, were we able unquestioningly to assign them to Greene, go far to clarify the obscure places in his biography and his art. That Greene had a part inA Looking-Glass for London and Englandthere is, of course, no doubt, but we are not yet able to say how much of the play is his composition, and the question of its date provides some difficulties. We incline to the view that it was an early play. Lodge was absent from England in 1588 on a voyage with Captain Clark to the Islands of Terceras and the Canaries. In August 1591 he sailed from Plymouth with Cavendish and did not return until 1593, after Greene's death.A Looking-Glasswas then either written before 1588 or between 1589 and 1591. Collins, arguing from passages in the play remotely paralleled by biblical allusions inGreene's Visionand theMourning Garment, decides that it was produced in 1590. This conclusion cannot be accepted because, as Collins himself admits, references to Nineveh and Jonas are frequent in the literature of the time. Of the three reasons given by Collins for supposing that the play was not written before 1588 one is based on the slender hypothesis that as it is not proved that Greene wrote plays before 1590 this one could not have been earlier; and another is based on a gratuitous assumption that this play is that comedy "lastly writ" with "Young Juvenal" and mentioned inA Groatsworth of Wit.[18]The argument that the realistic passage beginning "The fair Triones with their glimmering light" could only have been written after Lodge's first maritime experience carries moreweight, but cannot stand long as against counter evidence of any force whatever. Nor do we see any strength in the theory that this play is a product of Greene's era of repentance. As has been shown, Greene uses repentance as a didactic motive from the first. Considering this as a moralising play one may with better force place it in the earlier years of less complex dramatic inspiration. It is difficult to conceive that in 1589, when Greene was almost certainly engaged in writingFriar Bacon and Friar Bungay, he should have been willing to go back to the motive of the interludes. As the spirit of the play is earlier than Greene's mature work, so its associations are with the earlier rather than with the later work of Lodge.An Alarum against Usurers, the influence of which is often apparent, was published in 1584. In the years from 1589 to 1591 inclusive Lodge was engaged on another type of work, represented byScillæ's Metamorphosis, Rosalynde, The History of Robert, second Duke of Normandy, andCatharos, certainly as far removed as possible from the moralising vein ofA Looking-Glass. Two published expressions by Lodge lean rather to the earlier than the later date. InScillæ's Metamorphosis(1589) Lodge vows,
"To write no more of that whence shame doth grow,[Nor] tie my pen to penny-knaves delight."
Certainly we cannot believe that Lodge was abjuring playwriting at the very moment that he was preparingA Looking-Glass. The other passage occurs in Lodge'sWits Misery(1596), in which Lodge says it is odious "in stage plays to make use of historical scripture." This passage should be viewed in connection with a passage in the epistle prefixed to Greene'sFarewell to Folly(1591), taunting the author ofFair Emfor "blasphemous rhetoric," and for borrowing from the scripture. Whatever may be the claims of consistency we must suppose that the argument from good policy would tend to the conclusion that the scriptural drama of Greene and Lodgewas written as long as possible before these uncompromising words. Setting narrow limits, we should say thatA Looking-Glasswas produced between the date of the production ofTamburlaineand of the destruction of the Spanish Armada. In the deification of Rasni, "god on earth, and none but he," there are traces of an aspiring kingliness, and the lament of Rasni over Remilia, his queen, has the yearning note sounded in Tamburlaine's grief over the dying Zenocrate. That the play was not written during the intense excitement incident to the Armada would seem probable on general principles, for there is no hint either of imminent national danger or of the intoxication of success. The undoubted reflections ofThe Spanish Tragedyin this play can serve only to place it in near conjunction withOrlando Furiosoas an early play. Whether it preceded or followed that play it is impossible now to decide.[19]As to Greene's share in the work it is impossible to speak with even the semblance of authority. The comic portions sound like Greene's work,[20]and if Greene wrote Act v. scene 4 ofJames IV.he was quite capable of writing the moralising part. In simplicity of construction the play is quite unlike Greene's other dramatic works, just as it is much better than Lodge'sThe Wounds of Civil War. Arguing from the position of their names on the title-page, one is tempted to believe that the play was planned and drafted byLodge, and put forth by Greene somewhat after the manner used in his edition of his friend'sEuphues Shadow(1592).
The anonymous authorship ofGeorge-a-Greene, LocrineandSelimusprovides problems that must continue to vex critics for some time to come. None of them is assigned to Greene on absolute evidence of any weight, yet strong support has been given to the theory of Greene's authorship of each of them. In the case of the first so respectable has been the following that no editor would care definitely to exclude the play from his list. Yet the best evidence is questionable, and much of the evidence is quite adverse to the theory of Greene's authorship. The manuscript notes on a copy of the Quarto of 1599, assigning the play to a minister who had played the pinner's part himself, and in another hand to Robert Greene (quoted onp. xxiii.), cannot to-day be considered good evidence. Judged by the well-known tests of textual and structural criticism the play almost absolutely fails to connect itself either with Greene or his contemporary university writers. Few plays of the late eighties are so isolated from the clearly-marked characteristics of the drama of the time. OfEuphues, ofTamburlaine, ofThe Spanish Tragedy, of Seneca, of the religious play, there are few, if any, traces. The rhetorical structure shows none of the artificial balances and climaxes so common at the time; there is neither ghost, chorus, dumb show nor messenger; there is no high aspiring figure, no madness, no revenge; and the bloodshed is decent. The lyrics are English and not Italian. Indeed so far is it from the classical style that it seems difficult to believe that a university man wrote the play. The rich mythology of the university wits is entirely wanting. Such classical allusions as are to be found are the stock figures of a layman's vocabulary, Leda, Helena, Venus and Hercules, the rudimentary mythology of the age. The play lies nearer to the ground in an absolute realism of the soil than any known in this group. The milk cansofFriar Bacon and Friar Bungaymay be pure pastoral; the country setting ofGeorge-a-Greeneis pure rustic, and is not helped at all by literature. So also the play lacks many of Greene's characteristic notes. It was performed at the Rose by Sussex' men, while so far as is known Greene remained faithful to the Queen's company throughout his life. It lacks that satirical under-current, that ironic veiled counter cuff at his rivals, that personal innuendo in the midst of a good story that is so characteristic of Greene.
But in spite of the facts that are brought to his judgment the beauties of the play are such as to compel every editor to soften judgment by inclination and include the play among Greene's dramas. Certainly Greene is the only university man of his day who, knowing the affectations of literature, at the same time knew real life in the concrete well enough to writeGeorge-a-Greene. If truth were told it was through plays of the type ofGeorge-a-Greene, rather than through the more ambitious university men's plays, that the current of pure English comedy was to flow. And it is becauseGeorge-a-Greeneintegrates itself so perfectly with the development of Greene's dramatic genius, and represents so well that realism reached by a settling down of art from above, rather than arising from the vulgar fact, that we are willing to say that if Greene did not write this play he could have written one much like it.George-a-Greeneseems to bring to consummation the developing principles of Greene's art. As in the case ofFriar Bacon and Friar Bungaythere is in this play a quite unhistorical chronicle element concerning English kings. But unlikeJames IV., which is derived from an Italian original, this play tells an English story based on the native Robin Hood strain. Again, likeFriar Bacon, the original story, which contains no romantic element, is augmented by a love story. If the play is Greene's it may represent the last and purest expression of his charming doctrine of beauty and his simple philosophy of content. To Greenebeauty lay in fresh and joyous colours and in uncomplex forms. And his philosophy of repose is evolved out of the sublimation of the emotional riot of his early life. Again and again these notes are struck inGeorge-a-Greene. Now it is the well-known strain:
"The sweet content of men that live in loveBreeds fretting humours in a restless mind."
Again it is contentment put into better precept:
"a poor man that is trueIs better than an earl, if he be false;"
and
"'tis more credit to men of base degree,To do great deeds, than men of dignity."
George's words, "Tell me, sweet love, how is thy mind content," "Happy am I to have so sweet a love," and "I have a lovely leman, as bright of blee as is the silver moon," sound like Greene's style matured and softened by experience. Yet that the play is Greene's one would not dare to say. Its present form displays either hasty composition or garbled version, or both, for it is neither consistent nor well integrated. In one breath Cuddy has never seen George, and in the next delivers to King Edward a message which "at their parting George did say to me." The episodes of Jane-a-Barley, Cuddy and Musgrove, George-a-Greene and the horses in the corn, the shoemakers and the "Vail Staff" custom, Robin Hood and his followers, are but fragments thinly and crudely knit together. Perhaps this play is a unique exemplar of a class of hurriedly-sketched popular plays written by Greene for the provinces and printed from a mutilated stage copy.[21]
The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrinehas been ascribed to Shakespeare, Marlowe, Peele and Greene. The two former ascriptions are clearly uncritical, and the two latter present many difficulties. According to Symonds, "The best passages of the play ... are very much in the manner of Greene." In this opinion joins Brooke, the editor ofThe Shakespeare Apocrypha. With certain portions of the argument associatingLocrinewith Greene we are in harmony. The play was issued by that Thomas Creede who had published Greene'sAlphonsus of Arragon, A Looking-Glass, andJames IV.In flashes of poetry, in classical allusion, in high-sounding phrases, the play is sometimes astoundingly in the temper ofOrlando FuriosoandAlphonsus of Arragon. We care little for the evidence that is deduced from literal parallels. More often than not these were purposed copyings or imitations, or involuntary reminiscences of lingering refrains. But there is such a thing as an author's peculiar verbal coin, which is stamped with his sign, and can be paid out by him alone. One who knows his author well cannot but be struck with the frequent occurrence of Greene's own turn of phrase, a style that is clearly to be distinguished from the style of any other poet of his time. Brutus' salutation to his followers at the beginning of the play is much after the manner of Marsilius' welcome to the princes who were come to woo Angelica. Trumpart's imprecations by "sticks and stones," "brickbats and bones," "briars and brambles," "cook shops and shambles," remind one of Orlando's equally ludicrous "Woods, trees, leaves; leaves, trees, woods." The lyrical clownery of Strumbo is often strikingly like that of Miles inFriar Bacon. The senile revenge motive of Corineus resembles that of Carinus inOrlando Furioso. The use of the capital founded by Brutus, Troynovant, is repeated inNever too Late.[22]So also Guendoline'spleas for the life of her faithless husband—"his death will more augment my woes"—are quite in the spirit of Dorothea's pity for her sinning husband inJames IV.Strumbo's use of his plackets to hide food in while Humber is starving resembles in comic intent Adam's same expedient in starving Nineveh. Certain verse propositions seem to ring with Greene's own timbre:
"The poorest state is farthest from annoy" (ii. 2, 37).[23]"After we passed the groves of Caledone.Where murmuring rivers slide with silent streams,We did behold the straggling Scythians camp," etc. (ii. 3, 23)."Why this, my lord, experience teaches us:That resolution is a sole help at need" (iii. 2, 61)."Oh, that sweet face painted with nature's dye,Those roseall cheeks mixt with a snowy white,That decent neck surpassing ivory" (iv. 1, 91)."Loc.Better to live, than not to live at all.Estrild.Better to die renowned for chastityThan live with shame and endless infamy." (iv. 1, 133)[24]
Other minor phrases that are even more characteristic of Greene's note are, "daughters of proud Lebanon," "Aurora, handmaid of the sun," "party coloured flowers," "shady groves" (often repeated), "girt with a corselet of bright shining steel," "rascal runnagates," "overlook with haughty front," "injurious fortune," and "injurious traitor," "watery" (frequently repeated even where unnecessary), "silver streams" (often repeated), "sweet savours," "regiment," "argent streams," "university of bridewell" (to be compared with Miles' jests), "uncouth rock," "Puryflegiton" (often used; Greene uses Phlegethon), "Anthropophagie," "countercheck," "triple world," "beauty's paragon," "those her so pleasing looks," "straggling" (as an adjective expressing contempt; often used, and quite characteristic of Greene).
The considerations outlined are sufficient to incline one favourably toward the theory of Greene's authorship ofLocrine. Yet the difficulties are such as for the present to deny the play a place among Greene's works. The date is in great doubt. The first edition of 1595 "newly set forth, overseen and corrected by W. S.," is evidently a revamped version. We cannot agree with Brooke that the play appeared beforeTamburlaine, for, among many strains of the dramas ofThe Misfortunes of Arthurtype there are mingled undoubted influences from the revenge plays andTamburlaine. It is difficult to adjust the play to any scheme of activities that has been worked out for Greene. Certainly it did not ante-dateAlphonsus of Arragon, for there is every reason to take the prologue of that play at its word. Upon the hypothesis that it is Greene's work we should place it just beforeOrlando Furioso, the play which it resembles above all others, and about the same time asA Looking-Glass for London and England, which in respect of comedy it greatly resembles.
It is impossible to view with any favour the theory of Greene's authorship ofSelimus. In every respect the play is divergent from Greene's characteristic tone and method. Grosart's theory that this play may be supposed to take the place of the promised second part ofAlphonsus of Arragonhas no weight. Like the latter playSelimusis the first part of a work that had been planned in series, and in no respect does it supplement Greene's first play. LikeAlphonsus of Arragonthe play is constructed with such slavish fidelity to theTamburlaineprinciples that it is difficult to think Greene could have writtenSelimusafter the failure ofAlphonsus. Constructively the play is unlike Greene's work. The declamation is more sustained and the action is less crowded than in Greene's other plays. The many parallel passages quoted by Grosart prove nothing more than that borrowing was the order of the age. Nor is anything proved by the fact that the same clown comedy is introduced intoLocrine,SelimusandA Looking-Glass for London and England. IfLocrineis Greene's work it was probably written about the time that he was collaborating with Lodge, and he may have introduced the same comedy into both plays. It is no more of an assumption that the author ofSelimusborrowed his comedy fromLocrinethan that Greene would use the same tricks three times within two years. The blank verse ofSelimus, built largely on a system of rhymed stanzas, is very far from that ofLocrineand of Greene's undoubted plays. To illustrate this no better passages could be chosen than those produced by Collins to evidence the similarity of the verse of the two plays. The vexed problem of the part taken by Greene in theHenry VI.plays can be treated now only as a subject for interesting but comparatively fruitless speculation. So also must be considered the ingenious and almost convincing circumstantial argument thatA Knack to Know a Knaveis the comedy "lastly writ" by Greene and "Young Juvenal," and mentioned inA Groatsworth of Wit.[25]
We said in beginning that Greene is clearly typical of his time. And indeed his plays are complexes of the dominant dramatic types of the years just before Shakespeare. In his work are focused the strains leading from the three most clearly marked dramatic movements of the age. The English morality combines with rustic low life to produce the interlude, which continues its course of didacticism and horse-play until the end of the century. The Senecan drama scatters ghosts and horrors through English plays until it is etherealised in the poetry ofTamburlaine, and laughed to death in the parodies ofThe Spanish Tragedy.The English chronicle play gives life to the dry bones of history, and celebrates the solidarity of an England united over the face of the globe, and through all the eras of her splendid history. Of all these elements the one that remains in Greene's work from beginning to end is the didactic strain.A Looking-Glass for London and Englandis the last full flowering of English religious drama. Yet didactic elements appear in Friar Bacon's strangely unmotivated repentance, and in the interpolated scene of a lawyer, a merchant and a divine inJames IV.In Greene's dramas many of the types and figures from a bygone stage are mingled with the newer creations of his invention. The vices of the interludes spring up incongruously in the midst of the characters of a later drama. InFriar Baconthe Vice is again carried off to hell on the back of the Devil, just as had been done years before in simpler plays; and in the same play, by the use of the expedient of perspective glasses, two actions are represented as taking place in widely separate localities, after the manner of the early masques. And aside from these persisting formulas from an older drama there are influences and obligations in relation with Lyly and Marlowe and Kyd that are literally too numerous for enumeration. As significant as any service Greene performed for English drama is the assimilation to a single dramatic end of the adverse expedients of a heterogeneous dramaturgy.
Technically Greene's contribution to the stage was most significant. Nash called him master above all others in "plotting of plays." Part of this mastery comes from his recognition of the technical requirement of continuous action on the stage. Better than any of his contemporaries, not excluding Kyd, he knew that action is of equal importance with speech in the exposition of a dramatic story. Wherever possible he visualises before his audience the successive stages in the progress of his plot, not by the use of ghosts and chorus, who serve merely a narrative purpose, but by bringing before hisreaders palpable expedients illustrative of the theme of the action. The use of the Brazen Head inAlphonsus of Arragon; the incantations of Melissa inOrlando Furioso; the raising of the arbor, and the death of Remilia under the incantations of the Magi inA Looking-Glass for London and England; the use of a visible magic to transport Burden and Helen, to raise Hercules and the tree, and to present the downfall of the Brazen Head inFriar Bacon, all reveal an ability to adapt the properties and expedients of the stage of the time to the purposes of the plot. This is further exemplified in the facility with which from the beginning Greene utilises such spectacular expedients as the letting down of the throne of Venus from above inAlphonsus of Arragon, and the descent of the throne of Oseas the prophet inA Looking-Glass. Not only does he use the palpable tricks of stagecraft, but he adapts these to the purposes of his dramatic exposition. The perspective glass inFriar Baconwhich serves to present two scenes at the same time serves also to connect two strains of the plot and to further the action by arousing Prince Edward's suspicion of the fidelity of Lacy. So magic, which inDr Faustusserves only to raise a spectacle, in this play is used as a plot expedient to delay the marriage of Margaret and Lacy. The stage directions are more full and circumstantial in Greene's plays than in those of either Marlowe or Peele, and reveal the same tendency to heighten the effect of plot by action and display.
Greene's dramas present a steady development in effectiveness of plot involution. The first plays are marked by a large amount of action and a great number of narrative fragments very crudely and inorganically clustered around the central character.Alphonsus of Arragonis Greene's poorest work in this as in every other respect. Its first act is marked by hesitation and indirection; accident, coincidence and inconsistency are the rule throughout. The play is practically divided into two parts, in the first of which Alphonsus is the central figure, whileAmurack serves as protagonist in the second.Orlando Furiosois structurally an improvement on its predecessor, and inA Looking-Glass for London and Englandan excellent unity of action has been attained. It is inFriar Bacon and Friar Bungaythat Greene effected the most substantial advance in play technique made before Shakespeare. This is nothing less than the weaving of two distinct plots into the unity of a single dramatic narrative. On account of the crowding of the action and the sensations, the play is unbalanced and unorganised.Friar Bacon'sactivities are divided into two distinct parts, his victory over Vandermast and his loss of the Brazen Head, and they are scattered through a half-dozen episodes. For perfect balance Prince Edward surrenders Margaret too early in the play and thus makes necessary the introduction of further retarding action based upon an unexplainable whim of Lacy. Yet granting the inchoate character of the play we must admit that in effecting the combination of the story of Friar Bacon with the story of Prince Edward, Lacy and the Fair Maid of Fressingfield, Greene accomplished an unusually significant innovation. InJames IV.Greene's technique is at its best. Even in the faulty version that comes down to us we see traces of Greene's experimenting temper. In dumb shows he is reinstating a popular feature of older plays. His induction serves as a model for Shakespeare'sTaming of the Shrew; and one of its characters, Oberon, is a rough draft for the fairy of that name inA Midsummer Night's Dream, as Bohan is a prototype of Jaques inAs You Like It. But Greene's induction is better integrated with his play than is Shakespeare's induction of Sly, the Lords and the Servants, for the two characters, Slipper and Nano, who appear first in the induction, are sent out into the play to serve as connecting links for all of its action.James IV.is the only one of Greene's plays that has unity of action. The plot is introduced with a masterly directness and economy. The fatal situation breaks on the reader at the beginning,and throughout the play the crux of the action remains the love of the King of Scots for another than his queen. Ateukin springs up at the psychological moment and at the dramatic crisis. The first act of the play, dramatically quite the best first act written outside of Shakespeare up to his time, provides the king's marriage to Dorothea, the revelation of his love for Ida, the enlistment of Ateukin in the cause of the king's love, and a lover for Ida to make her inaccessible. Aside from the development of the tragedy of this situation there enters into the play only one minor episode, the love of Lady Anderson for the young knight (in reality Queen Dorothea) whom she is succouring in her castle. That Greene chose to end the play after the manner of comedy, and not, as the situation would seem to require, and the taste of the age must have demanded, with the death of the erring king, is an effective indication of his later freedom from restraint and of his personal philosophy of art.
As Marlowe moved from the sublime passion of hisTamburlainetheme to the cold reserve of hisEdward II., Greene also, casting off the turgid eloquence of his early style, attained at the end to an art of contemplative repose and genial humanity. The critic likes to feel that in stripping away the excrescences from his art he was discovering his own soul. In treating Greene as a representative Elizabethan, one should not ignore the individuality of the man that stamps all his work with a new impress. Without being original in structure or style Greene was individual in outlook and temper. He had a keener eye for the little things than any dramatist of his time, and he had also a better sympathy for the quick flashing moods and manifestations of human character. His knowledge of the concrete realities of character is an attribute of the man himself. In depicting fairies he lacks, as did Lyly, the imagination to vitalise an unreal world in the spirit of a Shakespeare. He chooses his characters from the world around him and studies themin their native habitat. His clowns, though belonging to an ancient family, are racy of the soil of England, and are fellows with Shadow, and Launce, and Speed and Grumio. Warren and Ermsby are Englishmen of a sturdy type, and Sir Cuthbert Anderson and Lady Anderson are studied as if in their Scotch castle. But Greene did something more than present the exteriors of men as types. He studied their psychology, and knew the warring forces within the individual soul, the power of circumstance, and ambition, and love to direct the forces of character into untoward paths. He knew that logic of human nature that counts consistency untrue, and constructs motives out of the syllogisms of perversity. So he divides the part of the Capitano, in the original story upon whichJames IV.was based, into two parts, one the working intelligence, Ateukin, and the other the executioner, Jaques. So also the King of Scots is no puppet. He struggles as he falls, and his fall is reflected in his distraught mind. And in the depiction of women Greene lavishes the finest forces of his genius. Nash called him "the Homer of women," and that phrase is worth the entirety ofStrange Newsin defending Greene's fame. Sometimes he goes to his own baser experience for his comment, and then there is, as inOrlando Furioso(p. 191), a touch of the awful invective delivered against prostitutes in hisNever too Late. But Greene's later art was better than this. Scottish Ida, who wins the heart of the King of Scots from English Doll, is no courtesan. Something of the respect and love that breathes through Greene's allusions to Doll his wife is seen in his treatment of all womankind. Even Angelica inOrlando Furioso, unformed as are her outlines, represents that fidelity of a patient Grizzel so well exemplified in Margaret inFriar Baconand Dorothea inJames IV.Nothing in Marlowe's Queen Isabella ofEdward II., Zenocrate ofTamburlaine, Abigail ofThe Jew of Malta, can equal the sweet and simple womanliness of Greene's gallery, comprising Isabel inNever too Late, Bellaria and Fawnia inPandosto,Sephestia inMenaphon, Philomela and the shepherd's wife in theMourning Garment, Margaret inFriar Bacon and Friar Bungay, and Ida and Dorothea inJames IV.
Greene's skill in the treatment of character grew out of his knowledge of life, and is involved in his most significant and enduring contribution to the stage. This is the introduction of realism onto a stage that was essentially romantic, and it arises from the application of dramatic art to the experiences of everyday life. Greene's low life is not artificial pastoral, nor is it the boorish clownage of the interludes. It is the characteristic life of England that we see in Harrison'sDescription, refined and beautified by a mature and chastened art. Only in such art can come the homely ideal of "beauty tempered with ... huswifery." By the time ofFriar Bacon and Friar BungayGreene's art has come home. Now in a series of domestic thumb sketches he shows us Margaret:
"And there amongst the cream bowls she did shineAs Pallas 'mongst her princely huswifery,"
and the hostess in the kitchen,
"Spitting the meat 'gainst supper for my guess,"
and the hay, and butter, and cheese displays of Harleston fair. "He was of singular pleasaunce, the very supporter, and, to no man's disgrace be this intended, the only comedian, of a vulgar writer, in this country," writes Chettle inA Kind Hart's Dream, summing up in striking phrase the true contemporary judgment of Greene's greatest distinction. But there is another aspect of his genius. He loved the active life of out-of-doors, and he indulged a vigorous spirit of participation in the life around him. But he saw behind things into the spirit, and his treatment of events is dignified with a rich philosophy drawn from his manifold contact with the most lavish era in England's history. To him a drama is more than an isolated and a meaningless show. InFrancesco's Fortuneshe outlines the kind of play that he himself wrote: "Therein they painted out in the persons thecourse of the world, how either it was graced with honour, or discredited with vices." He leaves the hollow-sounding verbiage of his early plays to comment with the lawyer on "the manners and the fashions of this age." HisJames IV.is a play of contemplation. Bohan is an early "malcontent," and Andrew, noting the downfall of his prince, exclaims, "Was never such a world, I think, before." With the heart of a democrat Greene understands alike the problems of kings and yeomen. The counsel of the King of England to Dorothea on the obligations and dangers of sovereignty is sage and rational, and Ida's comments on the "greatest good"—that it lies not "in delights, or pomp, or majesty"—are rich with the best philosophy. InA Quip for an Upstart CourtierClothbreeches asks, "Doth true virtue consist in riches, or humanity in wealth? is ancient honour tied to outward bravery? or not rather true nobility, a mind excellently qualified with rare virtues?" So often is this note struck in Greene's plays that we might call it a personal one were it not that it is beginning to appear commonly in the literature of the time.
Summing up Greene's contribution to the drama of his age we should say that it lies in the essential comedy of his outlook on life, his inherentvis comica; in his loving insight into human nature in its familiar aspects; in his distrust of exaggeration and his tendency to turn this to burlesque; and in his beautiful philosophy of the eternal verities. Out of the drama of Greene there developed the new romantic comedy of Shakespeare and the realism of joy of domestic drama. AfterGeorge-a-Greenethere came the Huntingdon plays of Munday and Chettle, in which the woodland knight, Robin Hood, appears again. AfterFriar Bacon and Friar Bungaythere cameFair Em, A Knack to Know a Knave, John-a-Kent and John-a-Cumber,and Dekker'sShoemaker's Holiday. Heywood and Samuel Rowley and Munday and Dekker and the author ofThe Merry Devil of Edmontonshare with Shakespeare indisputable strains of his individual note.
Professor Herford calls attention to the conflict, in Greene's life, between "the fresh, unworn sense of beauty and poetry," and "the bitter, disillusioned cynicism of premature old age." That conflict was a necessary one. It was present also in the discrepancy between the lyric note of Marlowe's yearning fancy and the hard reserve laid upon his later pen by bitter suffering. Both of these were true Elizabethans. They were true to their times in the vastness of their conceptions and in the narrowness of their lives, in their poetic triumphs no less than in their personal defeats. The marvellous thing is that in the midst of riotous life they should have learned repose in art, that though writing in a tavern their muse should have remained chaste. Marlowe remained to the end the poet of "air and fire." From Greene we get in the drama the first clear note of the English woodland joy that had echoed fitfully in English non-dramatic verse from the days of Chaucer and the unknown author ofAlysoun.
A Groatsworth of Withas been so often cited as a record in the history of English drama that its value as a human document has been forgotten. Of Greene's attack therein on Shakespeare there is no need to say anything here. To those who have any concern with Greene himself it is interesting chiefly for its revelation of the awful melancholy of his last days and his pathetic sense of the wrongs suffered by the little school of dramatists of which he was a member. The sense of pity produced by reading this book is intensified by a study of Greene's last days as suggested in his own succeeding book,The Repentance of Robert Greene, and in the pamphlets of Harvey and Nash. Greene died on the 3rd of September 1592, of a malady following a surfeit of Rhenish wine and pickled herring. Before his death he received commendations from his wife, and his last written words were addressed to her in a request to pay the debt incurred by his sickness. We are told that after his death the keeperof his garret crowned his head with bays. Fourteen years later, when, with the exception of Lodge, the last of the university wits had passed away, and Shakespeare, whom they had all feared, had taken his abiding place, Dekker in his tract,A Knight's Coiffuring, shows Marlowe, Greene and Peele, together once more in Elysium, under the "shades of a large vine, laughing to see Nash, that was but newly come to their college, still haunted with the sharp and satirical spirit that had followed him here upon earth."
The text of this edition is based on Dyce's modernised text of 1861 compared with the later collations of Grosart and Collins, and editions of single plays by Ward, Manly and Gayley. The editor has been conservative in accepting modifications of Dyce's text. The act and scene divisions as found in Collins have been adopted, and the location of scenes has been indicated throughout.
The first extant edition ofAlphonsus, King of Arragon, was printed in quarto by Thomas Creede in 1599. Lowndes mentions a quarto of 1597 of which no trace can be found. Of the two copies of the quarto of 1599 now known, one is in the library of the Duke of Devonshire, and the other is in the Dyce Library at South Kensington.Alphonsusis not mentioned by Henslowe in hisDiary, nor is there any record of the play in the Stationers' Registers. Nothing certain can be said concerning the circumstances and dates of composition and first performance of Greene's plays. But there can be no doubt that this is one of Greene's earliest plays, for in the Prologue Greene says through the mouth of Venus:
"And this my hand, which usèd for to penThe praise of love and Cupid's peerless power,Will now begin to treat of bloody Mars."
Nor can there be any doubt that the play was written in imitation of Marlowe'sTamburlaine, mention of which occurs in IV. 3. A second part, "when I come to finish up his life," is promised in the Epilogue. That the second part was not written is probably an indication of the failure of the piece. In the Preface to Greene'sPerimedesof 29th March 1588, we learn that two "gentlemen poets" had caused two actors to mock Greene's motto,Omne tulit punctum, because his verse fell short of the bombast and blasphemy of Marlowe's early style. It has been suggested that it may have been the verse ofAlphonsusthat was ridiculed. Certainly it must have been this play, or a lost early play, for it was in drama that the "mighty line" appeared. There is in Peele'sFarewell, April 1589, a reference to a piece of mechanism occurring in this play which closely connects it with Marlowe's first play, "Mahomet's Poo and mighty Tamburlaine." This has been discussed in theGeneral Introduction. Greene's play is based distantly on the history of Alphonso I. of Naples and V. of Arragon (1385-1454), though with no pretence to historical accuracy.
Carinus, the rightful heir to the crown of Arragon.
Alphonsus, his son.
Flaminius, King of Arragon.
Belinus, King of Naples.
Duke of Milan.
Albinius.
Fabius.
Lælius.
Miles.
Amurack, the Great Turk.
Arcastus, King of the Moors.
Claramont, King of Barbary.
Crocon, King of Arabia.
Faustus, King of Babylon.
Bajazet.
Two Priests ofMahomet.
Provost, Soldiers, Janissaries, etc.
Fausta, wife to Amurack.
Iphigena, her daughter.
Medea, an enchantress.
Mahomet(speaking from the Brazen Head).
Venus.
TheNine Muses.
After you have sounded thrice, letVenusbe let down from the top of the stage.
After you have sounded thrice, letVenusbe let down from the top of the stage.
Venus.Poets are scarce, when goddesses themselvesAre forc'd to leave their high and stately seats,Plac'd on the top of high Olympus' Mount,To seek them out, to pen their champions' praise.The time hath been when Homer's sugar'd MuseDid make each echo to repeat his verse,That every coward that durst crack a spear,And tilt and tourney for his lady's sake,Was painted out in colours of such priceAs might become the proudest potentate.But now-a-days so irksome idless' slights,And cursèd charms have witch'd each student's mind,That death it is to any of them all,If that their hands to penning you do call.O Virgil, Virgil, wert thou now alive,Whose painful pen, in stout Augustus' days,Did dain[26]to let the base and silly flyTo scape away without thy praise of her,I do not doubt but long or ere this time,Alphonsus' fame unto the heavens should climb;Alphonsus' fame, that man of Jove his seed,Sprung from the loins of the immortal gods,Whose sire, although he habit on the earth,May claim a portion in the fiery pole,As well as any one whate'er he be.But, setting by Alphonsus' power divine,What man alive, or now amongst the ghosts,Could countervail his courage and his strength?But thou art dead, yea, Virgil, thou art gone,And all his acts drown'd in oblivion.And all his acts drown'd in oblivion?[27]No, Venus, no, though poets prove unkind,And loth to stand in penning of his deeds,Yet rather than they shall be clean forgot,I, which was wont to follow Cupid's gamesWill put in ure[28]Minerva's sacred art;And this my hand, which usèd for to penThe praise of love and Cupid's peerless power,Will now begin to treat of bloody Mars,Of doughty deeds and valiant victories.
EnterMelpomene, Clio, Erato,with theirSisters,playing all upon sundry instruments,Calliopeonly excepted, who coming last, hangeth down the head, and plays not of her instrument.
EnterMelpomene, Clio, Erato,with theirSisters,playing all upon sundry instruments,Calliopeonly excepted, who coming last, hangeth down the head, and plays not of her instrument.
But see whereas[29]the stately Muses come,Whose harmony doth very far surpassThe heavenly music of Apollo's pipe!But what means this? Melpomene herselfWith all her sisters sound their instruments,Only excepted fair Calliope,Who, coming last and hanging down her head,Doth plainly show by outward actionsWhat secret sorrow doth torment her heart.[Stands aside.Mel.Calliope, thou which so oft didst crake[30]How that such clients cluster'd to thy court,By thick and threefold, as not any oneOf all thy sisters might compare with thee,Where be thy scholars now become, I trow?Where are they vanish'd in such sudden sort,That, while as we do play upon our strings,You stand still lazing, and have naught to do?Clio.Melpomene, make you a why of that?I know full oft you have [in] authors read,The higher tree, the sooner is his fall,And they which first do flourish and bear sway,Upon the sudden vanish clean away.Cal.Mock on apace; my back is broad enoughTo bear your flouts as many as they be.That year is rare that ne'er feels winter's storms;That tree is fertile which ne'er wanteth fruit;And that same Muse hath heapèd well in storeWhich never wanteth clients at her door.But yet, my sisters, when the surgent seasHave ebb'd their fill, their waves do rise again,And fill their banks up to the very brims;And when my pipe hath eas'd herself a while,Such store of suitors shall my seat frequent,That you shall see my scholars be not spent.Erato.Spent, quoth you, sister? then we were to blame,If we should say your scholars all were spent:But pray now tell me when your painful penWill rest enough?Mel.When husbandmen shear hogs.Ven.[coming forward]. Melpomene, Erato,[31]and the rest,From thickest shrubs Dame Venus did espyThe mortal hatred which you jointly bearUnto your sister high Calliope.What, do you think if that the tree do bend,It follows therefore that it needs must break?And since her pipe a little while doth rest,It never shall be able for to sound?Yes, Muses, yes, if that she will vouchsafeTo entertain Dame Venus in her school,And further me with her instructions,She shall have scholars which will dain to beIn any other Muse's company.Cal.Most sacred Venus, do you doubt of that?Calliope would think her three times blestFor to receive a goddess in her school,Especially so high an one as you,Which rules the earth, and guides the heavens too.Ven.Then sound your pipes, and let us bend our stepsUnto the top of high Parnassus Hill,And there together do our best devoirFor to describe Alphonsus' warlike fame,And, in the manner of a comedy,Set down his noble valour presently.
Cal.As Venus wills, so bids Calliope.
Mel.And as you bid, your sisters do agree. [Exeunt.
EnterCarinusandAlphonsus.
EnterCarinusandAlphonsus.
Cari.My noble son, since first I did recountThe noble acts your predecessors didIn Arragon against their warlike foes,I never yet could see thee joy at all,But hanging down thy head as malcontent,Thy youthful days in mourning have been spent.Tell me, Alphonsus, what might be the causeThat makes thee thus to pine away with care?Hath old Carinus done thee any offenceIn reckoning up these stories unto thee?What ne'er a word but mum? Alphonsus, speak,Unless your father's fatal day you seek.Alphon.Although, dear father, I have often vow'dNe'er to unfold the secrets of my heartTo any man or woman, whosome'erDwells underneath the circle of the sky;Yet do your words so cónjure me, dear sire,That needs I must fulfil that you require.Then so it is. Amongst the famous talesWhich you rehears'd done by our sires in war,Whenas you came unto your father's days,With sobbing notes, with sighs and blubbering tears,And much ado, at length you thus began:"Next to Alphonsus should my father comeFor to possess the diadem by rightOf Arragon, but that the wicked wretchHis younger brother, with aspiring mind,By secret treason robb'd him of his life,And me his son of that which was my due."These words, my sire, did so torment my mind,As had I been with Ixion[32]in hell,The ravening bird could never plague me worse;For ever since my mind hath troubled beenWhich way I might revenge this traitorous fact,And that recover which is ours by right.Cari.Ah, my Alphonsus, never think on that!In vain it is to strive against the stream:The crown is lost, and now in hucksters' hands,And all our hope is cast into the dust.Bridle these thoughts, and learn the same of me,—A quiet life doth pass an empery.Alphon.Yet, noble father, ere Carinus' broodShall brook his foe for to usurp his seat,He'll die the death with honour in the field,And so his life and sorrows briefly end.But did I know my froward fate were suchAs I should fail in this my just attempt,This sword, dear father, should the author beTo make an end of this my tragedy.Therefore, sweet sire, remain you here a while,And let me walk my Fortune for to try.I do not doubt but, ere the time be long,I'll quite his cost, or else myself will die.Cari.My noble son, since that thy mind is suchFor to revenge thy father's foul abuse,As that my words may not a whit prevailTo stay thy journey, go with happy fate,And soon return unto thy father's cell,With such a train as Julius Cæsar cameTo noble Rome, whenas he had achiev'd[33]The mighty monarch of the triple world.Meantime Carinus in this silly[34]groveWill spend his days with prayers and orisons,To mighty Jove to further thine intent.Farewell, dear son, Alphonsus, fare you well. [Exit.Alphon.And is he gone? then hie, Alphonsus, hie,To try thy fortune where thy fates do call.A noble mind disdains to hide his head,And let his foes triumph in his overthrow.[Makes as though to go out.
EnterAlbinius.
EnterAlbinius.
Albi.What loitering fellow have we spièd here?Presume not, villain, further for to go,Unless[35]you do at length the same repent.Alphon.[coming towardsAlbinius]."Villain," say'st thou? nay, "villain" in thy throat!What, know'st thou, skipjack, whom thou villain call'st?Albi.A common vassal I do villain call.Alphon.That shalt thou soon approve, persuade thyself,Or else I'll die, or thou shalt die for me.Albi.What, do I dream, or do my dazzling eyesDeceive me? Is't Alphonsus that I see?Doth now Medea use her wonted charmsFor to delude Albinius' fantasy?Or doth black Pluto, king of dark Avern,Seek to flout me with his counterfeit?His body like to Alphonsus' framèd is;His face resembles much Alphonsus' hue;His noble mind declares him for no less;'Tis he indeed. Woe worth Albinius,Whose babbling tongue hath caus'd his own annoy!Why doth not Jove send from the glittering skiesHis thunderbolts to chástise this offence?Why doth Dame Terra cease[36]with greedy jawsTo swallow up Albinius presently?What, shall I fly and hide my traitorous head,From stout Alphonsus whom I so misus'd?Or shall I yield? Tush, yielding is in vain:Nor can I fly, but he will follow me.Then cast thyself down at his grace's feet,Confess thy fault, and ready make thy breastTo entertain thy well-deservèd death. [Kneels.Alphon.What news, my friend? why are you so blank,That erst before did vaunt it to the skies?Albi.Pardon, dear lord! Albinius pardon cravesFor this offence, which, by the heavens I vow,Unwittingly I did unto your grace;For had I known Alphonsus had been here,Ere that my tongue had spoke so traitorously,This hand should make my very soul to die.Alphon.Rise up, my friend, thy pardon soon is got:[Albiniusrises up.But, prithee, tell me what the cause might be,That in such sort thou erst upbraided'st me?Albi.Most mighty prince, since first your father's sireDid yield his ghost unto the Sisters Three,And old Carinus forcèd was to flyHis native soil and royal diadem,I, for because I seemèd to complainAgainst their treason, shortly was forewarn'dNe'er more to haunt the bounds of Arragon,On pain of death. Then like a man forlorn,I sought about to find some resting-place,And at the length did hap upon this shore,Where showing forth my cruel banishment,By King Belinus I am succourèd.But now, my lord, to answer your demand:It happens so, that the usurping kingOf Arragon makes war upon this landFor certain tribute which he claimeth here;Wherefore Belinus sent me round aboutHis country for to gather up [his] menFor to withstand this most injurious foe;Which being done, returning with the king,Despitefully I did so taunt your grace,Imagining you had some soldier been,The which, for fear, had sneakèd from the camp.Alphon.Enough, Albinius, I do know thy mind:But may it be that these thy happy newsShould be of truth, or have you forgèd them?Albi.The gods forbid that e'er Albinius' tongueShould once be found to forge a feignèd tale,Especially unto his sovereign lord:But if Alphonsus think that I do feign,Stay here a while, and you shall plainly seeMy words be true, whenas you do perceiveOur royal army march before your face;The which, if't please my noble lord to stay,I'll hasten on with all the speed I may.Alphon.Make haste, Albinius, if you love my life;But yet beware, whenas your army comes,You do not make as though you do me know,For I a while a soldier base will be,Until I find time more convenientTo show, Albinius, what is mine intent.Albi.Whate'er Alphonsus fittest doth esteem,Albinius for his profit best will deem. [Exit.Alphon.Now do I see both gods and fortune tooDo join their powers to raise Alphonsus' fame;For in this broil I do not greatly doubtBut that I shall my cousin's courage tame.But see whereas Belinus' army comes,And he himself, unless I guess awry:Whoe'er it be, I do not pass[37]a pin;Alphonsus means his soldier for to be.[He stands aside.[38]
EnterBelinus, Albinius, Fabius,marching with theirSoldiers;they make a stand.Alphonsusdiscovered at one side.
EnterBelinus, Albinius, Fabius,marching with theirSoldiers;they make a stand.Alphonsusdiscovered at one side.
Beli.Thus far, my lords, we trainèd have our campFor to encounter haughty Arragon,Who with a mighty power of straggling matesHath traitorously assailèd this our land,And burning towns, and sacking cities fair,Doth play the devil wheresome'er he comes.Now, as we are informèd of our scouts,He marcheth on unto our chiefest seat,Naples, I mean, that city of renown,For to begirt it with his bands about,And so at length, the which high Jove forbid,To sack the same, as erst he other did.If which should hap, Belinus were undone,His country spoil'd, and all his subjects slain:Wherefore your sovereign thinketh it most meetFor to prevent the fury of the foe,And Naples succour, that distressèd town,By entering in, ere Arragon doth come,With all our men, which will sufficient beFor to withstand their cruel battery.Albi.The silly serpent, found by country swain,And cut in pieces by his furious blows,Yet if her head do 'scape away untouch'd,As many write, it very strangely goesTo fetch an herb, with which in little timeHer batter'd corpse again she doth conjoin:But if by chance the ploughman's sturdy staffDo hap to hit upon the serpent's head,And bruise the same, though all the rest be soundYet doth the silly serpent lie for dead,Nor can the rest of all her body serveTo find a salve which may her life preserve.Even so, my lord, if Naples once be lost,Which is the head of all your grace's land,Easy it were for the malicious foeTo get the other cities in their hand:But if from them that Naples town be free,I do not doubt but safe the rest shall be;And therefore, mighty king, I think it best,To succour Naples rather than the rest.Beli.'Tis bravely spoken; by my crown I swear,I like thy counsel, and will follow it.But hark, Albinius, dost thou know the man,That doth so closely overthwart us stand?[Pointing towardsAlphonsus.Albi.Not I, my lord, nor never saw him yet.Beli.Then, prithee, go and ask him presently,What countryman he is, and why he comesInto this place? perhaps he is some one,That is sent hither as a secret spyTo hear and see in secret what we do.[AlbiniusandFabiusgo towardAlphonsus.Albi.My friend, what art thou, that so like a spyDost sneak about Belinus' royal camp?Alphon.I am a man.Fabi.A man! we know the same:But prithee, tell me, and set scoffing by,What countryman thou art, and why you come,That we may soon resolve the king thereof?Alphon.Why, say I am a soldier.Fabi.Of whose band?Alphon.Of his that will most wages to me give.Fabi.But will you beContent to serve Belinus in his wars?Alphon.Ay, if he'll reward me as I do deserve,And grant whate'er I win, it shall be mineIncontinent.Albi.Believe me, sir, your service costly is:But stay a while, and I will bring you wordWhat King Belinus says unto the same.[Goes towardsBelinus.Beli.What news, Albinius? who is that we see?Albi.It is, my lord, a soldier that you see,Who fain would serve your grace in these your wars,But that, I fear, his service is too dear.Beli.Too dear, why so? what doth the soldier crave?Albi.He craves, my lord, all things that with his swordHe doth obtain, whatever that they be.Beli.[ToAlphonsus]. Content, my friend; if thou wilt succour me,Whate'er you get, that challenge as thine own;Belinus gives it frankly unto thee,Although it be the crown of Arragon.Come on, therefóre, and let us hie apaceTo Naples town, whereas by this, I know,Our foes have pitch'd their tents against our walls.Alphon.March on, my lord, for I will follow you;And do not doubt but, ere the time be long,I shall obtain the crown of Arragon. [Exeunt.