Shakespeare and the Stage / With a Complete List of Theatrical Terms Used by Shakespeare in His Plays and Poems, Arranged in Alphabetical Order, & Explanatory Notes

by Maurice Jonas

HAMLET

ACT.

When thou see’st that act afoot,

Even with the very comment of thy soul

Observe mine uncle.

III, 2, 83.

You that look pale and tremble at this chance

That are but mutes or audience to this act.

V, 2, 346.

ACTED.

I heard thee speak a speech once, but it was never acted.

II, 2, 455.

ACTOR.

When Roscius was an actor in Rome, The actors are come hither.

II, 2, 410.

Then came each actor on his ass. The best actors in the world.

II, 2, 416.

HAMLET:

My Lord, you played once i’ the university, you say?

POLONIUS:

That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.

III, 2, 106.

ABRIDGEMENT.

For look, where my abridgement comes.

II, 2, 439.

ARGUMENT.

There was for a while no money bid for argument.

II, 2, 273.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

III, 2, 149.

Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in it?

III, 2, 242.

The argument of a play signified the plot or the subject matter under discussion. The word in this sense is now obsolete, although much in use in Elizabethan times, and frequently employed by several dramatists of the period.

AUDIENCE.

They are but mutes or audience to this act.

V, 2, 398.

CHORUS.

You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

III, 2, 255.

CUE.

What would he do

Had he the motive and the cue for passion

That I have?

III, 2, 587.

TRAGEDY. COMEDY. HISTORY. PASTORAL.

POLONIUS:

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral; tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited; Seneca cannot be too heavy, not Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.

II, 2, 415.

By the above speech Polonius must have been fairly well acquainted with the actors, and the repertoire of the tragedians of the city. The list describing the different styles of composition are somewhat exaggerated, but not to such an extent as appears at first sight. Evidence of the lengthy repertory of the Globe can be gleaned from an extract concerning a licence granted in 1603 to the Globe company. Permission is given “freely to use the, and exercise the, Arte and facultie of playing Comedies, Tragedies, Histories, Enterludes, Moralls, Pastoralls and stage plaies, and such other like.” The phrase “scene individable” refers to the dramas, scrupulously adhering to the Unity of Place, a rule so carefully observed by classical writers. “Poem unlimited” may have expressed the antithesis to scene individable. The mention of Seneca and Plautus takes us back to the dramatic writers of antiquity. Seneca’s tragedies were translated into English and published in 1581. There are many allusions in English literature to these blood-curdling dramas. Nash, the Elizabethan dramatist and pamphleteer, thus describes the works of the Latin author: “Yet English Seneca read by candle-light yields many good sentences as ‘Blood is a beggar,’ and so forth, and if you entreat him fair on a frosty morning he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say handfuls, of tragical speeches. But o grief Tempus edax rerum, what’s that will last always? The sea exhaled by drops will in continuance be dry, and Seneca let blood line by line and page by page at length must needs die to our stage.”

I possess an original edition of Seneca’s work in Latin, printed at Venice in the year 1498. The volume contains the ten tragedies, which were rendered into English by Thomas Newton and other writers. The “Hamlet” here referred to is an older play than Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” and presumably written by Thomas Kyd, to which Shakespeare was immeasurably indebted. Traces of this play may survive in the 1603 quarto of “Hamlet.” The relation of the 1603 quarto of “Hamlet” to the received text is one of the most puzzling subjects in all Shakesperean literature. The exact relationship still awaits solution. Plautus was a Latin dramatist, one of whose plays had been translated into English. The “Menaechmi” was rendered into the vernacular by William Warner and published in 1595. The translation acquaints us with the fact that before publication the play had been circulated in MS. Shakespeare’s play of the “Comedy of Errors” is founded on Plautus’s comedy. Whether Shakespeare went direct to the original or copied from Warner or any other translation cannot be decided. Somewhat puzzling is the question in discovering the grammatical subject of “these are the only men.” Does Polonius refer to the law of writ and the liberty or the “best actors of the world.” “Writ and liberty” bear the same meaning as “scene individable or poem unlimited.” The phrases may be intended as a compliment to the poets who were distinguished in both classes of composition, or perhaps the actors were the only men, who by their expert knowledge were capable of acting in all kinds of plays, whether a written composition or extempore plays.

CELLARAGE.

Come on; you hear this fellow in the cellarage.

Consent to sweat.

I, V, 151.

This quotation possibly refers to some kind of contrivance in use underneath the stage. Trap-doors in the Elizabethan theatre were an indispensable feature of the stage setting. From the stage of to-day they have entirely disappeared, with the exception of pantomime, where they are still much in evidence. The Ghost in “Hamlet” apparently made his entrance and his exit by one of these trap-doors. Several dramatists made use of these doors in introducing their characters upon the stage. The exact spot in which they were situated cannot be indicated; only in one instance can it be clearly defined. Ben Jonson, in his Induction to the Poetaster marks the trap-door in the centre of the stage. One may also have existed in the upper stage, but this suggestion is quite problematical. Spectators at the Blackfriars Theatres allowed stools on the stage. Considering that trap-doors were situated all over the stage, the stool-holders must have had their allotted space marked off, otherwise they would have interfered with the stage setting.

DUMB SHOW.

Capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise.

III, 2, 14.

HAUTBOYS PLAY. THE DUMB-SHOW ENTERS

III, 2, 145.

Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing him and he her. She kneels and makes show of protestation unto him. He takes her up and reclines his head upon her neck; lays him down upon a bank of flowers; she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King’s ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King dead and makes passionate action. The poisoner, with some two or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts, his love.

Exeunt.

I have quoted the dumb-show scene in full, as only in rare instances in English dramatic literature is the action of the play foretold by such means. Why Shakespeare employed this confused method cannot be conjectured. Surely Hamlet exhibiting, through the dumb-show, how his father was murdered would naturally put the King upon his guard; the very thing he sought to avoid. The dumb-show undoubtedly detracts from the climax of the play-scene, and must be considered a serious blunder on the part of the dramatist in having introduced this artless and old-fashioned piece of machinery. The commentators give no valid excuse for its introduction. Halliwell-Phillipps makes the silly suggestion that the King and Queen should be whispering together during the scene, and so escape seeing it. A more ridiculous note by a great Shakesperean scholar has never been printed.

ENACT.

What did you enact? I did enact

Julius Cæsar, I was killed in the Capitol.

Brutus killed me.

III, 2, 107.

Besides writing a play called “Julius Cæsar,” Shakespeare introduces his name on several occasions; apparently he was one of the poet’s favourite characters. I am afraid Shakespeare did not verify his quotations; many simple errors occur through Shakespeare copying them from other authors, whilst the critics, from sheer ignorance, always lay them on Shakespeare’s shoulders, thus making him the scapegoat for other’s mistakes. Of course, from the point of view of modern scholarship, it is a grave error in placing Cæsar’s assassination in the Capitol; Plutarch expressly states that Cæsar met his death at Pompey’s portico, where a statue of his famous rival stood in the centre. The dramatist was on the right track when Marc Antony, in his oration, describes the place where Cæsar fell:

“Then burst his mighty heart,

And in his mantle, muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey’s statue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.”

Julius Cæsar was murdered in the “Curia,” Pompey near the theatre of Pompey, in the Campus Martius. Chaucer commits the same blunder in believing that Cæsar was stabbed in the Capitol. In Shakespeare’s play of “Julius Cæsar” the same error was repeated. An ancient statue, which was discovered in 1553 and now stands in the Sala dell’ Udianza of the Spada Palace at Rome, may be the identical statue of Pompey, at the base of which great Cæsar fell. Plutarch relates how at the very base where Pompey’s statue stood, which ran all gore blood, till he was slain. Plutarch’s celebrated lives of the Grecians and Romans was translated into English by Thomas North in 1579, from the French version of Jacques Amyot, first printed in 1559. Four editions were issued before North made his translation without studying the text very minutely, a difficulty arises in determining which edition North used. This book was Shakespeare’s constant companion, and many of North’s vigorous prose passages are turned into verse with very little alteration. This volume was in the library of Molière’s mother, and was frequently consulted by the great French comic poet. The author was in great vogue during the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and it may well be considered the most popular book of those times among educated people. During the last hundred years the work has lost much of its popularity, few people of the present day having read it. I doubt if many who profess themselves readers of good literature know the author, even by name. So much for our educational system. I possess a copy of the first Greek edition, dated 1517, formerly in the possession of the Duke of Sussex; besides the rare first French edition, 1559, which I recently purchased from the catalogue of a lady provincial bookseller.

GROUNDLINGS.

To split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise.

III, II, 12.

That part of the theatre, corresponding to our pit, was called the yard, and the spectators who stood in the enclosure were dubbed groundlings, the word being associated with the general sense of ground. “Your groundlings and gallery-commoner buys his sport by the penny.” The price of admission to this part of a public theatre, such as the Globe, was one penny. At the Blackfriars, a private theatre, there was no open yard. In Jonson’s play of “The Case is Altered” one of the characters explains: “Tut, give me the penny, give me the penny. I care not for the gentleman, I, let me have good ground.” The same dramatist, in another play, designates these spectators as the understanding gentlemen of the ground. Judging by contemporary accounts, the yard was the most uncomfortable place for enjoying the performance, the enclosure was bare of any sitting accommodation, neither was there any flooring, being generally overcrowded; there was no room for stools. Notwithstanding these disadvantages, the people flocked to this part of the theatre, which, at most of the public theatres, held about a thousand spectators. In proof of this statement I will quote some verses from Marlowe’s Epigrams and Elegies, translated from Ovid’s Amores:

“For as we see

The playhouse doors

When ended is the play, the dance and song,

A thousand townsmen, gentlemen and wantons,

Porters and serving men, together throng.”

These lines were published circa 1596, and have never been quoted before in reference to the stage, and I regard them, on my part, in the light of a discovery. When every nook and cranny of Elizabethan literature has been diligently ransacked in quest of materials for illuminating theatrical matters, it is all the more surprising that this passage should have been overlooked. The reason may be that in this poem some of the verses were too highly coloured for respectable literary folk, but in spite of this obstacle I considered it my duty as a student to read the book diligently from page to page in hopes of finding some reference to the early stage, and in this instance I was amply rewarded. This volume of amorous verses was one of the books condemned to be burnt at Canterbury by Archbishop Whitgift in 1599. By a strange coincidence, the original of this volume was banned from the public libraries by order of the Emperor Augustus.

HOBBY HORSE.

For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot.

III, 2, 144.

Although only distantly connected with the stage, the mention of this well-known feature in the May games proves that Shakespeare was well versed in all matters connected with the festivities of the village homes. The hobby-horse was one of the principal actors, taking part in the Morris Dance, this dance being considered the chief attraction of the May games. Hobby was originally the name of a small horse chiefly of Irish breed; when figuring in the festivities under this name it was represented by a paste board painted figure of a horse, attached to a frame of wicker wood or other light material, and was fastened round the waist of a man, his own legs, going through the body of the horse, were concealed by a long foot-cloth, thus enabling him to walk unseen, while false legs appeared where those of the man should have been, at the sides of the horse. Thus equipped, he executed various antics in imitation of a skittish high-spirited animal. The name of the performer was also called the hobby-horse. The phrase is now obsolete, but the word hobby is now associated with the occupation of collecting various works of art or trivial things, which is compared to the riding of a toy horse. The present quotation may be a line now lost from an old ballad, in which the omission of the hobby-horse from the May games was the principal theme. The figure of a man riding a hobby-horse is depicted on a glass window at Betley Church, Staffordshire. This identical sentence is often mentioned in Elizabethan literature, which would indicate that at this period it had ceased to form a part of the rustic games. As an instance showing the disfavour into which the hobby-horse had fallen, Hope-on-high Bomby, a character in “A Woman Pleased,” by Beaumont and Fletcher, throws off his hobby-horse and will no more engage in the Morris Dance. Last summer I witnessed some very interesting Morris Dances performed on the Green in the Hampstead Garden Suburb, but was disappointed in not seeing the hobby-horse. “For O, For O, the hobby-horse is forgot,” I exclaimed in a loud voice, but no one heeded me, and the dances continued.

JIG.

Prithee, say on, he’s for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or else he sleeps.

II, 2, 522.

This is the only instance in which Shakespeare uses the word in its connexion with the dramatic history of the stage. In this sense the word is now obsolete. Until quite lately, no specimen of this form of dramatic literature was extant, yet the early commentators were fully aware of its existence. Very little trustworthy evidence for this class of literary diversion is procurable, but several early references clearly indicate that such fare was usually provided at the public theatres. The jig was a dramatic sketch or ballad drama, of a light or farcical character, written to dance music and accompanied in most instances to dance action. The piece that has survived is without this lasting accessory. The actors in these sketches were chosen from those that played the clowns and comic characters in the regular drama. An idea of the nature of these one-act plays may be imagined by comparing them to the rollicking farces which generally concluded the programme in our theatres in Victorian times. The only extant jig, which has recently been discovered, has been printed in the collection of Shirburn ballads, and edited with much profound learning by Mr. Andrew Clark. The playlet is entitled:

“Mr. Attwell’s Jigge
betweene
Francis. A Gentleman.
Richard. A Farmer
and their wives.”

The sketch is divided into four acts, each one accompanied to a different tune. The first to the tune of “Walsingham,” the second “The Jewish Bride,” the third to “Buggle-boe,” and the fourth to “Goe from my Window.” This last tune was familiar in Scotland early in Elizabeth’s reign. The first act introduces to us the plot of the piece: the gentleman, who makes love to the farmer’s wife. When her husband returns, she tells him of the gentleman’s intentions; thereupon they concoct a plot to entrap the would-be lover, and inform the gentleman’s wife of his intrigue. In the end the gentleman makes love to his own wife in the belief that she is the farmer’s wife. When he discovers his mistake he is forgiven and all ends happily. We may readily assume that many such pieces still exist in manuscript which have not yet come to light. We owe a debt to Mr. Clark for having published this highly interesting example, illustrating a popular theatrical amusement of the Tudor period. The Spanish dramas of this date also had their jigs, which were called “bayles,” always accompanied by words, either sung or recited, and, of course, by dancing.

LINES.

But if you mouth it, as many of your players do,

I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines.

III, 2, 4.

These lines refer to the delivery of the speech, inserted by Hamlet in the play scene. Apparently Shakespeare did not appreciate this boisterous school of acting, which was of a pompous oratorical style, uttering the words with great distinctness of articulation, amounting almost to affectation; in brief, a species of ranting. In poetry, verses are termed lines. Milton, in his ode to Shakespeare, prefixed to the Second Folio, 1632, writes:

“... and that each part

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued Book

Those Delphic lines with deep impression took.”

“Unvalued” in the above quotation is here used for our modern word “invaluable.” Shakespeare uses the word in both its ancient and modern definitions, namely, “Inestimable stones, unvalued Jewels,” in “Richard III,” and once in “Hamlet,” “He may not as unvalued persons do Carve for himself.”

An actor of to-day still refers to the words of his part as his lines. A further instance of ranting occurs in Churchill’s “Roliad,” where he speaks disparagingly of an actor in the following couplet:

He mouths a sentence

As a cur mouths a bone.

Shakespeare himself refers to his “untutored lines” in the dedication of “Lucrece” to the Earl of Southampton.

PART.

The humourous-man shall end his part in peace.

II, 2, 336.

In this passage the “humourous man” has no connection with the funny or comical character in our present day melodramas. The meaning in this latter sense is first used at the end of the seventeenth century. The Shakesperean sense was moody, peevish, or capricious, ever ready in entering into a quarrel, and represented by such characters as Mercutio, Jacques, and Faulconbridge.

PLAY.

He that plays the King shall be welcome.

II, 2, 332.

The play I remember pleased not the million.

II, 2, 456.

An excellent play well digested in the scenes.

II, 2, 46.

We’ll hear a play to-morrow. Dost thou hear me?

Old friend, can you play the murder of Gonzago?

II, 2, 56.

I have heard that guilty creatures sitting at a play

Have, by the very cunning of the scene,

Been struck so to the soul, that presently

They have proclaimed their malefactions.

II, 2, 618.

I’ll have these players

Play something like the murder of my father.

II, 2, 624.

The play’s the thing

Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.

II, 2, 663.

They have already order

This night to play before him.

III, 1, 21.

After the play

Let the queen mother alone entreat him.

III, 1, 189.

O, there be players that I have seen play.

III, 2, 33.

Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.

III, 2, 43.

Though, in the meantime, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered.

III, 2, 47.

There is a play to-night before the king.

III, 2, 80.

If I steal ought whilst the play is playing

And ’scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

III, 2, 93.

They are coming to the play I must be idle.

III, 2, 98.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

III, 2, 150.

You are naught, you are naught, I’ll mark the play.

III, 2, 158.

Madam, how like you the play?

III, 2, 239.

What do you call the play? The Mouse trap.

III, 2, 246.

The play is the image of a murder done in Vienna.

III, 2, 265.

Give o’er the play. Give me some light, Away.

III, 2, 279.

Ere I could make a prologue to my brains

They had begun the play.

V, 2, 31.

PLAYED.

My lord, you played once i’ the university, you say.

III, 2, 104.

PLAYER.

What lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you.

II, 2, 329.

What players are they? Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city.

II, 2, 365.

Unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

II, 2, 373.

There are the players.

You are welcome to Elsinore.

II, 2, 386.

Lest my extent to the players should more appear like entertainment than yours.

II, 2, 391.

I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players.

II, 2, 406.

Will you see the players well bestowed.

II, 2, 547.

Is it not monstrous that this player here

But in a fiction in a dream of passion

Could force his soul so to his own conceit.

II, 2, 577.

I’ll have these players

Play something like the murder of my father.

II, 2, 623.

It so fell out that certain players

We o’er-raught in the way.

III, 1, 16.

If you mouth it as many of your players do.

I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines.

III, 2, 3.

O, there be players that I have seen play.

III, 3, 32.

Bid the players make haste.

III, 2, 54.

Be the players ready.

III, 2, 111.

The players cannot keep counsel, they tell all.

III, 2, 162.

Will not this—get me a fellowship in a cry of players.

III, 2, 289.

PLAYING.

Anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing.

III, 2, 23.

If he steal aught whilst the play is playing.

III, 2, 93.

PROLOGUE.

And prologue to the omen coming on.

I, 1, 123.

Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring.

III, 2, 123.

Ere I could make a prologue to my brains

They had begun the play.

V, 2, 30.

QUALITY.

Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing?

II, 2, 268.

We’ll have a speech straight, come give us a taste of your quality, come a passionate speech.

III, 2, 451.

In Shakespeare’s time the word was used technically, as applying to the profession of acting; in this sense the word is now obsolete. “Players, I love ye and your quality,” is a quotation from Davies’ “Microcosm,” 1603.

SCENE.

Scene individable or poem unlimited.

II, 2, 418.

An excellent play well digested in the scenes.

II, 2, 418.

Have by the very cunning of the scene.

II, 2, 619.

One scene of it comes near the circumstance

Which I have told thee of my father’s death.

III, 2, 81.

SHOW.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

III, 2, 149.

Will he tell us what this show meant.

III, 2, 153.

The word show in both these passages refers to the dumb-show which caused Ophelia to make these remarks. Although in modern slang the word show is used in connexion with a dramatic entertainment, this meaning did not exist in Shakespeare’s time: its only meaning in a theatrical sense, in the sixteenth century was of a spectacular nature, such as pageants, masques or processions on a large scale.

STAGE.

These are now the fashion and so berattle the common stages.

II, 2, 358.

He would drown the stage with tears.

II, 2, 588.

TRAGEDIAN.

Those who were wont to take such delight in the tragedians of the city.

II, 2, 324.

TRAGEDY.

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history.

II, 2, 416.

For us and for our tragedy.

III, 2, 159.

TRAGICAL.

Tragical, historical, tragical comical, historical pastoral.

II, 2, 417.

VICE.

A vice of kings.

A king of shreds and patches.

III, IV, 98.

The vice in the old morality was usually of a humourous and malicious character, deriving his name from the vicious qualities attributed to him in the old morality plays. His nature was wholly mischievous, and this trait permeated his entire being. The vice was generally dressed in a fool’s habit, hence the further reference to a king of shreds and patches. One of the meanings of patch is a piece of cloth sewed together, with others of varying shape and size and colour to form patchwork or adorn a garment. Shakespeare having previously alluded to the vice or fool, by association of ideas refers in a few lines later to his many-coloured garment.

HAMLET.

Why did you laugh then, when I said “man delights not me?”

ROSENCRANTZ.

To think, my lord, if you delight not in man what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them on the way, and hither are they coming, to offer you service.

HAM.

He that plays the king shall be welcome; his Majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o’ the sere, and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for’t. What players are they?

ROS.

Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city.

HAM.

How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.

ROS.

I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.

HAM.

Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?

ROS.

No, indeed they are not.

HAM.

How comes it? Do they grow rusty?

ROS.

Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonter place; but there is, sir, an eyrie of children, little eyeases, that cry out on the top of question and are most tyranically clapped for ’t. These are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages—so they call them—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.

HAM.

What, are they children? Who maintains ’em? How are they escorted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players—as it is most like, if their means are no better, their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession.

ROS.

Faith, there has been much to do on both sides, and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy; there was for a while no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

HAM.

Is’t possible?

GUILDENSTERN.

O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

HAM.

Do the boys carry it away?

ROS.

Ay, that they do, my lord. Hercules and his load, too.

This passage is particularly interesting to Shakesperean students, introducing as it does one of those veiled allusions to the contemporary stage, under the cloak of carrying on the ordinary dialogues of the play. The most unobservant reader will notice that this conversation in no way furthers the action of the play, and was simply brought in on a set purpose to interest the spectators in certain theatrical events of the day. Shakespeare, frequently in his dramas, refers to topical events which were quite clear to his audience, but in the course of ages the allusions were forgotten, and now only have a shadowy existence. A few commentators still squabble over these so-called references, in most instances failing to see any contemporary event embedded in the text, while others would discover contemporary allusions throughout a great majority of the plays. These topical references must be treated sensibly and logically; the safest plan is to completely ignore them without ample evidence is forthcoming of their real existence, otherwise it will surely lead the commentator into various pitfalls. Weaving imaginary theories out of these passages, which many editors of the past most delight in, is simplicity itself, but the modern reader very justly demands conclusive evidence before giving credence to these wild assumptions. In the above passage there can hardly exist a doubt that some stage event of the day is here discussed; the difficulty is to pluck out the heart of the mystery in the words “inhibition” and “innovation.” Although the scene is laid in Denmark, every reader will surely understand that Shakespeare is referring to the stage in London. By the tragedians of the city his own audience would be quick in detecting a reference to the celebrated actors of the Globe Theatre, which included the famous Richard Burbage, the creator of Hamlet and many other leading Shakesperean characters. In the query “how chances it they travel,” there is a reference to the custom of the London companies making their provincial tours. These tours were organized when the London theatres were closed, occurring chiefly through the raging of the plague, or want of funds necessary in carrying out a London season, or by some drastic measure imposed by certain authorities. One fact is certain, every company, whether successful or unsuccessful, made these regular provincial tours, evidence of which is abundant, and can be found in the archives of the principal towns in England.

By Hamlet’s question it would appear that only unsuccessful companies quitted the Metropolis, but on that point I can offer no satisfactory answer, except that Shakespeare in this passage was not alluding to the custom of the theatrical profession of his own times which, I think most readers will agree with me, is most unlikely.

The next quotation presents even greater difficulties. “I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.” To anyone unacquainted with the theatrical practices of the Elizabethan times, this passage is altogether meaningless, even those possessing the requisite knowledge, the exact interpretation can only be dimly surmised. That there was some definite allusion to some theatrical event of the day, which the audience clearly understood is certain, otherwise the passage would have been explained in a further conversation. Now our duty is to pierce this Cimmerian darkness by discovering the true history of this inhibition, likewise the origin of the innovation. The word inhibition refers to the act of inhibiting or forbidding, a prohibition formally issued by a person or body possessed of civil authority. Innovation means the action of innovating or the introduction of novelties. A change made in the nature or fashion of anything. Something newly introduced, a novel practice or method. Armed with these dictionary explanations we can now proceed in applying them to the present passage.

If we might take a liberty with the text and follow Dr. Johnson’s emendation, we immediately get rid of one of the difficulties. Dr. Johnson proposed to transpose the order of the words to read: “I think their innovation comes by the means of the late inhibition.” By this simple expedient innovation would refer to their new practice of strolling and the inhibition to the cause of it.

In my opinion this new reading is a most ingenious correction, and if adopted would remove the difficulty of making Hamlet grasp immediately the cause of the innovation which was certainly unknown to him. By explaining innovation as referring to their travelling or strolling, and inhibition as a command to quit the Metropolis, for some offence, the answer appears satisfactory and needs no further elucidation. But this tampering with the text is high treason in the Shakesperean sense, and other solutions more in conformity with the rules of the game must be suggested. It is just possible that the word inhibition is a corruption due to the compositor mishearing the word exhibition, meaning that the players were exhibiting themselves in the country for some offence or other.

Theobald, the greatest of all Shakesperean commentators, suggested the word itineration, clearly indicating that he thought the word was a corruption.

The city and local authorities frequently prohibited the actors from playing in their theatres; sometimes refusing permission on account of the plague, on other occasions for disturbances caused by the gathering of a large concourse of people, more often by their prejudice and utter dislike of all theatrical performances. Any light pretext was sufficient to order an inhibition. In this particular instance it is difficult to account for any inhibition by the authorities. The innovation certainly referred to the competition of the child performers, although in Shakespeare’s time it was no innovation, the children having acted for many years previously. The Blackfriars Theatre was given up to the Children of the Queen’s Revels and the Children of the Royal Chapel and other boy companies, which the Queen encouraged not only by her presence at the Blackfriars Theatre but by allowing them several privileges. The Children of St. Paul’s were also a rival company, and acted with great applause, several dramatists of eminence writing plays for them as well as for the Blackfriars brigade. Hamlet bitterly laments these innovations, for which he has my hearty approval, the child performer on the stage or in the drawing room being my bête noire. Shakespeare’s sympathies being entirely on behalf of the men players. Other causes for the closing of the theatres were the custom of introducing matters of state and religion upon the stage, for which cause the Admiral and the Strange companies were severely censured and, no doubt, obliged to retire for a season. Personal abuse was also rampant, and led to the war of the theatres, a controversy carried on with much bitterness on all sides. Satirizing living persons and impersonating their peculiarities was another feature of the stage, which caused the imprisonment of Nash, the well-known dramatist. Lord Strange’s company got into a great scrape for playing the deposition scene in “Richard the Second,” much to the annoyance and anger of the Queen, at the time of the Essex rebellion. The Queen is reported to have said, “Know ye not that I am Richard the Second?” For this offence they were debarred from acting at Court, and also in London. During their prohibition they acted in the provinces, but it is hardly likely that Shakespeare would refer to his own company as being in disgrace. I only cite these instances as showing the theatrical customs of the day, and incidentally throwing light on the topical allusion in this passage. Attentive readers of Shakespeare’s works will in course of their perusal come across several of these tantalizing references, which are all the more interesting on account of the difficulty in solving them. Many a passage which runs so smoothly in the modern text owes its simplicity to the untiring efforts and scholarship of previous editors. One such editor, the famous Theobald, was a genius in restoring the true reading out of a mass of corruption in which he found the text, also in interpreting for later generations out of the way classical allusions and ancient customs. Some of his restorations and interpretations can only be considered as inspired, and all Shakesperean students should revere his memory. Without the aid of Theobald hundreds of passages would still have remained unintelligible, and Shakespeare himself owes him a debt of gratitude.

COMMON PLAYERS.

John Stephens, in his Essays and Characters, 1615, thus describes a common player: “Therefore did I prefix an epithet of ‘common’ to distinguish the base and artlesse appendants of our city companies, which oftentimes start away into rusticall wanderers and then, like Proteus, start back again into the citty number.”

HAMLET’S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS.

III, 2.

HAM.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much, with your hand, thus; but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the wound to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o’erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod; pray you, avoid it.

FIRST PLAYER.

I warrant your honour.

HAM.

Be not too tame neither, but let your discretion be your tutor; suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance that you o’erstep not the modesty of nature, for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it makes the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance o’erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature’s journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

FIRST PLAY.

I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir.

HAM.

Oh, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them, for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the meantime some necessary question of the play be then to be considered; that’s villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.

In this passage the whole art of the actor is set down for all time. Only a practised and enthusiastic actor, who in reality was in love with his profession, and who saw the educating force and dignity of his calling, could have drawn up such an ennobling picture of the responsibility entrusted to the impersonators of the characters, who embodied the abstract and brief chronicles of the time. Voice, gesture, deportment, the actor’s indispensable gifts, are all in due proportion given prominence, nothing is forgotten, so that the mimic representative shall be as perfect as the exigencies of the stage will allow.

A copy of these rules should be hung up in every theatre of the land, so that the actor should be impressed with the dignity and elevating powers of his profession. There be players that I have seen who would have well profited by reading this passage before setting foot on the stage. It was not only in Shakespeare’s days that reformation was needed: how often in our days is a well-written part mangled out of recognition by the slovenliness and stupidity of the impersonator. Study this speech, and, if you are in danger of forgetting it, study it again; it is the very alpha and omega of your great art. Shakespeare’s motive in assigning this speech to Hamlet may be for the better instruction of the actor in delivering the dozen or sixteen lines, which Hamlet inserted in the play of Gonzago’s murder. “But if you mouth, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines.” Considering that Hamlet was collaborating in the play, which was to be played before the King and Queen he was naturally interested in its production. On the other hand, it seems rather presumptuous for an amateur to dictate to a professional how a play should be acted, especially in this instance, when Hamlet had already tested the quality of the actor by hearing his recital of a scene out of Æneas’ tale of Dido, which he afterwards criticised, eulogising the admirable manner in which the player had acquitted himself. When witnessed on the stage these trifling discrepancies pass unnoticed, but in the study, when the plays are submitted to a microscopical examination, the inexactitudes make us reflect, and in the cold light of reason accuse Shakespeare of being a careless writer.

THE MURDER OF GONZAGO.

III, 2.

HAM.

Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the “Murder of Gonzago?”

FIRST PLAY.

Ay, my lord.

HAM.

We’ll ha’t to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert in ’t. Could you not?

FIRST PLAY.

Ay, my lord.

I have read most of the tales of the Italian novelists, but can find nothing answering to the description of the “Murder of Gonzago.” Hamlet refers in a later part of the play to the murder having been committed in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke’s name, his wife’s Baptista. In the dumb-show Gonzago is the King and Baptista the Queen, but in the dialogue they are named Duke and Duchess, a trivial oversight, due either to haste or carelessness; many such slight inaccuracies are found throughout Shakespeare’s works. The historians of Urbino mention a Duke of that state married to a Gonzago. Professor Dowden relates that this Duke was murdered in the same manner as the king in the dumb-show. He gives no reference for this statement. The Duke referred to was renowned for the splendour of his Court, also for his patronage of learning and the fine arts. He married Elizabeth Gonzago, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Gonzago, Lord of Mantua. This Duke of Urbino was created a Knight of the Garter by Edward the Fourth; he died quite peacefully in 1508. I feel almost positive a story existed in which the details correspond to the action in the dumb-show. When Hamlet asks the first actor if he remembers the speech of Æneas’ tale to Dido all the critics thought that Shakespeare had invented the speech, but afterwards an unfinished play by Marlowe, completed by Nash, was discovered; it was entitled “Dido, Queen of Carthage.” A paraphrase of Marlowe’s lines is contained in Shakespeare’s version. Possibly some day we may discover the original story of the Murder of Gonzago.

You could for a need study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines.

II, 2, 560.

Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck; lays him down upon a bank of flowers; she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King’s ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner, with some two or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts his love.

OPH.

What means this, my lord?

HAM.

Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPH.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play?

(Enter Prologue.)

HAM.

We shall know by this fellow; the players cannot keep counsel; they’ll tell all.

OPH.

Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAM.

Ay, or any show that you’ll show him; be not you ashamed to show, he’ll not shame to tell you what it means.

OPH.

You are naught, you are naught; I’ll mark the play.

PRO.

For, us and for our tragedy

Here stooping to your clemency,

We beg your hearing patiently.

HAM.

Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

OPH.

’Tis brief, my lord.

HAM.

As woman’s love.

(Enter two Players, King and Queen.)

P. KING.

Full thirty times hath Phœbus’ cart gone round

Neptune’s salt wash and Tellus’ orbed ground,

And thirty dozen moons with borrow’d sheen

About the world have times twelve thirties been,

Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands

Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

P. QUEEN.

So many journeys may the sun and moon

Make us again count o’er ere love be done!

But, woe is me! you are so sick of late,

So far from cheer and from your former state,

That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,

Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must;

For women’s fear and love holds quantity

In neither aught, or in extremity.

Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know,

And as my love is sized, my fear is so;

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear,

Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

P. KING.

Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;

My operant powers their functions leave to do;

And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,

Honour’d, beloved; and haply one as king

For husband shalt thou ——.

P. QUEEN.

Oh, confound the rest!

Such love must needs be treason in my breast;

In second husband let me be accurst!

None wed the second but who kill’d the first.

HAM (Aside).

Wormwood, wormwood!

P. QUEEN.

The instances that second marriage move

Are base respects of thrift, but none of love;

A second time I kill my husband dead,

Then second husband kisses me in bed.

P. KING.

I do believe you think what now you speak,

But what we do determine oft we break.

Purpose is but the slave to memory,

Of violent birth but poor validity;

Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,

But fall unshaken when they mellow be.

Most necessary ’tis that we forget

To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt;

What to ourselves in passion we propose,

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.

The violence of either grief or joy

Their own enactures with themselves destroy;

Where joy most revels grief doth most lament;

Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.

This world is not for aye, nor ’tis not strange

That even our loves should with our fortunes change

For ’tis a question left us yet to prove,

Whether love lead fortune or else fortune love.

The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;

The poor advanced makes friends of enemies;

And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;

For who not needs shall never lack a friend;

And who in want a hollow friend doth try

Directly seasons him his enemy.

But, orderly to end where I begun,

Our wills and fates do so contrary run

That our devices still are overthrown,

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own;

So think thou wilt no second husband wed,

But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

P. QUEEN.

Nor earth to me give food nor heaven light!

Sport and repose lock from me day and night!

To desperation turn my trust and hope!

An anchor’s cheer in prison be my scope!

Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,

Meet what I would have well and it destroy!

Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,

If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

HAM.

If she should break it now!

P. KING.

’Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;

My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile

The tedious day with sleep.

P. QUEEN.

Sleep rock thy brain;

And never come mischance between us twain!

(Exit).

HAM.

Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

HAM.

O, but she’ll keep her word.

KING.

Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in ’t?

HAM.

No, no; they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence the world.

KING.

What do you call the play?

HAM.

The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna; Gonzago is the duke’s name; his wife’s, Baptista: You shall see anon; ’tis a knavish piece of work; but what o’ that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not; let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.

(Enter Player, as Lucianus.)
(This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.)

OPH.

You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAM.

Begin, murderer: pox, leave thy damnable faces and begin. Come: the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

LUC.

Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;

Confederate season, else no creature seeing;

Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,

With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,

Thy natural magic and dire property,

On wholesome life usurp immediately.

(Pours the poison into the Sleeper’s ears.)

HAM.

He poisons him i’ the garden for ’s estate. His name’s Gonzago; the story is extant, and written in very choice Italian; you shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago’s wife.

OPH.

The king rises!

HAM.

What, frighted with false fire!

QUEEN.

How fares my lord?

POL.

Give o’er the play.

KING.

Give me some light.—Away!

ALL.

Lights, lights, lights!

The question arises: were the lines which Hamlet proposed to write inserted in the play, and if so, can they be identified. Professor Seeley and others would fix on the lines commencing the player King’s speech: “I do believe you think what now you speak” (III, 2, 196), until “Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own” (III, 2, 223). The sentiments contained in these verses are, for the most part, trite aphorisms in no way affecting the murder scene, and can on that account be entirely rejected. The speech of Lucianus, commencing “Thoughts black” (III, 2, 266), are certainly more apt for the occasion, and had the desired effect of alarming the King. Had these lines numbered sixteen instead of six there would have been greater plausibility in assigning them to Hamlet. The intention was that these lines should have a direct bearing upon the play, and form an integral part of the whole, therefore these verses must also be dismissed. We can only surmise that Shakespeare intended the audience to believe that he in some measure revised a scene in the “Murder of Gonzago” to suit the present circumstances, which would avoid the improbability that a play existed which in every respect resembled Claudius’ crime. An attempt in picking out the actual lines is mere sophistication, and a profitless and useless discussion. In introducing a play within a play, Shakespeare endeavours to beguile the audience to believe in the reality of the play and in the artificiality of the play scene; for this purpose he employs rhyme couplets instead of the ordinary dialogue and blank verse. The style of the interlude is further mocked by the forced conceits and bombastic nature of the language. Note further the liberal use of classical names in the first few lines. One must admire Shakespeare’s resourcefulness in these small matters, and even greater contrast is shown in the recitation scene, which approves his act and judgement.

ACT II. SCENE II. Line 447–569.

(Enter four or five players.)

You are welcome, masters! welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: welcome, good friends.—O, my old friends! Why, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last; comest thou to beard me in Denmark?—What, my young lady and mistress! By’r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.—Masters, you are all welcome. We’ll e’en to ’t like French falconers, fly at anything we see: We’ll have a speech straight; come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

FIRST PLAY.

What speech, my good lord?

HAM.

I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; ’twas caviare to the general; but it was—as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried on the top of mine—an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affection; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved; ’twas Æneas’ tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam’s slaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see:

---

THE
Tragedie of Dido

Queene of Carthage:
Played by the Children of her
Maiesties Chappell.

Written by Christopher Marlowe, and
Thomas Nash. Gent.

Actors

Iupiter.

Ascanius.

Ganimed.

Dido.

Venus.

Anna.

Cupid.

Achates.

Iuno.

Ilioneus.

Mercurie,er.

Iarbas.

Hermes.

Cloanthes.

Æneas.

Sergestus.

AT LONDON,
Printed, by the Widdowe Orwin, for Thomas Woodcocke, and are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594.

---

Æn. My mother Venus iealous of my health,

Conuaid me from their crooked acts and bands:

So I escapt the furious Pirrhus wrath:

Who then ran to the pallace of the King,

And at Ioues Altar finding Priamus,

About

(Original Image)

---

The Tragedie of Dido.

About whose withered necke hung Hecuba,

Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both

Beating their breasts and falling on the ground,

He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once,

And with Megeras eyes flared in their face,

Threatning a thousand deaths at euery glaunce.

To whom the aged King thus trembling spoke:

Achilles sonne, remember what I was,

Father of fiftie sonnes, but they are slaine,

Lord of my fortune, but my fortunes turnd,

King of this Citie, but my Troy is fired,

And now am neither father, Lord, nor King:

Yet who so wretched but desires to liue?

O let me liue, great Neoptolemus,

Not mou’d at all, but smiling at his teares,

This butcher whil’st his hands were yet held vp,

Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands.

Dido. O end Æneas, I can heare no more.

Æn. At which the franticke Queene leapt on his face,

And in his eyelids hanging by the nayles,

A little while prolong’d her husbands life:

At last the souldiers puld her by the heeles,

And swong her howling in the emptie ayre,

Which sent an eccho to the wounded King:

Whereat he lifted vp his bedred lims,

And would haue grappeld with Achilles sonne,

Forgetting both his want of strength and hands,

Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about,

And with the wound thereof the King fell downe:

Then from the nauell to the throat at once,

He ript old Priam: at whose latter gaspe

Ioues marble statue gan to bend the brow,

As lothing Pirrhus for this wicked act:

Yet he vndaunted tooke his fathers flagge,

And dipt it in the old Kings chill cold bloud,

And then in triumph ran into the streetes,

Through which he could not passe for slaughtred men:

So leaning on his sword he stood stone still,

Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burnt.

By this I got my father on my backe,

This yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand

Led faire Creusa my beloued wife,

When thou Achates with thy sword mad’st way,

And we were round inuiron’d with the Greekes:

O there I lost my wife: and had not we

Fought manfully, I had not told this tale:

Yet manhood would not serue, of force we fled,

And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest

We sawe Cassandra sprauling in the streetes,

Whom Aiax rauisht in Dianas Fawne,

Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent,

Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships;

But suddenly the Grecians followed vs,

And I alas, was forst to let her lye.

Then got we to our ships, and being abourd,

Polixena cryed out, Æneas stay,

The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in.

Moued with her voyce, I lept into the sea,

Thinking to beare her on my backe abourd:

For all our ships were launcht into the deepe,

And as I swomme, she standing on the shoare,

Was by the cruell Mirmidons surprizd,

And after by that Pirrhus sacrifizde.

Dido. I dye with melting ruth, Æneas leaue.

Anna. O what became of aged Hecuba?

Iar. How got Æneas to the fleete againe?

Dido. But how scapt Helen, she that causde this warre?

Æn. Achates speake, sorrow hath tired me quite.

Acha. What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe,

We heare they led her captiue into Greece,

As for Æneas he swomme quickly backe,

And Helena betraied Düphobus

Her Louer, after Alexander dyed,

And so was reconcil’d to Menelaus.

Dido.

(Original Images)

---

DIDO

The rugged Pyrrhus, like th’ Hyrcanian beast,—

’tis not so, it begins with Pyrrhus:

The rugged Pyrrhus,—he whose sable arms,

Black as his purpose, did the night resemble

When he lay couched in the ominous horse,—

Hath now this dread and black complexion smear’d

With heraldry more dismal; head to foot

Now is he total gules; horridly trick’d

With Blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,

Baked and impasted with the parching streets,

That lend a tyrannous and damned light

To their lords’ murder, roasted in wrath and fire,

And thus o’er sized with coagulate gore,

With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus

Old grandsire Priam seeks.

So, proceed you.

POL.

’Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.

FIRST PLAY.

Anon he finds him

Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,

Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,

Repugnant to command; unequal match’d

Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;

but with the whiff and wind of his fell sword

The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,

Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top

Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash

Takes prisoner Pyrrhus’ ear; for, lo! his sword

Which was declining on the milky head

Of reverend Priam, seem’d i’ the air to stick;

So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,

And like a neutral to his will and matter,

Did nothing.

But, as we often see, against some storm

A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,

The bold wind speechless and the orb below

As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder

Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus’ pause,

Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;

And never did the Cyclops’ hammers fall

On Mars’ armour, forged for proof eterne,

With less remorse than Pyrrhus’ bleeding sword

Now falls on Priam.

Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,

In general synod take away her power;

Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,

And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven

As low as to the fiends!

POL.

This is too long.

HAM.

It shall to the barber’s, with your beard—Prithee, say on; he’s for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps: say on; come to Hecuba.

FIRST PLAY.

But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen——.

HAM.

“The mobled queen?”

POL.

That’s good; “mobled queen” is good.

FIRST PLAY.

Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames

With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head

Where late the diadem stood; and for a robe,

About her lank and all o’er-teemed loins,

A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;

Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep’d,

’Gainst Fortune’s state would treason have pronounced:

But if the gods themselves did see her then,

When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport

In mincing with his sword her husband’s limbs,

The instant burst of clamour that she made,—

Unless things mortal move them not at all,—

Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven

And passion in the gods.

POL.

Look, whether he has not turned his colour and his tears in’s eyes. Prithee, no more.

HAM.

’Tis well; I’ll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.—Good, my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used, for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time; after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.

POL.

My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

HAM.

God’s bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his desert, and who should ’scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity; the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.

POL.

Come, sirs.

II, 2, 468.

ÆNEAS’ TALE TO DIDO.

Shakespeare, through the person of Hamlet, shows his entire sympathy and love for all things dramatic. Directly the players enter he heartily welcomes them, throws off for a time all thoughts of melancholy, and appears in his true character as a noble prince, scholar and gentleman. Evidently Hamlet had not seen these players for a long time; for what cause he had abstained from the theatre he does not state. In the interval the chief actor had grown old, and was bearded. The young lady alluded to is the boy actor who had grown at least many inches since Hamlet last saw him; in fact, by the altitude of chopine, this last object was a kind of heel attached to a shoe or boot, measuring a good height, sometimes as much as eighteen inches. The ladies of Venice were chiefly addicted to this fashion at the end of the sixteenth century, being much ridiculed for so doing, perhaps to the same extent as the ladies of our period when the hobbled skirt was introduced. The fashion of wearing a chopine did not extend as far as this country, although Walter Scott introduces the custom in his novel of the Fortunes of Nigel. The allusion to the lady’s voice being cracked within the ring, refers to the boy changing his voice from the boy to the young man’s stage. There was a ring on the coin of the realm within which the sovereign’s head was placed; if the crack extended from the edge beyond the ring, the coin was rendered unfit for currency.

“One speech in it I chiefly loved, ’twas Æneas’ tale to Dido.” Should we consider this play which Shakespeare so admirably criticises as an imaginary composition or one by a living author? I think, after reading Marlowe and Nash’s drama, entitled, “Dido, Queen of Carthage,” there can exist no doubt that Shakespeare was criticising this play, and he certainly moulded the piece he chose for recitation on this production. If any conclusion can be drawn from this piece of criticism, one conclusion is certain, that Shakespeare himself admired the classical drama, and if he had composed plays only for the study they would have been written more in conformity with classical methods. Having a mixed audience he was obliged to flavour his plays with savoury matter, what we should call spicy bits, for seeking the suffrage of the groundlings, and on some occasions treated these matters in no very delicate way according to our present notions. Shakespeare used the big brush, and laid it on pretty thick, proving the truth of Pope’s couplet:

“For gain, not glory, winged his wordy flight

And grew immortal in his own despite.”

Many critics have taken this speech as being ironical, or a burlesque on the old play, but there would have been no point in making Hamlet praise the piece so extravagantly. I think the critics who favour this theory may this time be dismissed with a caution, but should they offend in the same manner again they will be hardly dealt with. I regret seeing Professor Gollancz’s name in the list.

Shakespeare refers to the actors as the abstract and brief chronicles of the time. The Shakesperean canon comprises thirty-seven plays, not one of which, with the single exception of “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” deals with contemporary events, therefore, by his own confession, we owe Shakespeare little for pourtraying the chronicles of the time. Had Shakespeare strictly adhered to the laws of the drama this censure might have more force, but in all the plays, whether Roman, English of bygone centuries, or Italian, characters and scenes are laid before our admiring eyes, bearing always a substratum of pure contemporary English manners, for which we must be ever thankful.

The same might be said of all the Elizabethan dramatists with but few exceptions. Perhaps Shakespeare was looking ahead, prophesying the time when the playwright would record the events of his day, as in our own time the happenings of the hour are fully recorded, vindicating the phrase voiced by the poet as “holding the mirror up to nature”:

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,

Have by the very cunning of the scene

Been struck so to the soul that presently

They have proclaimed their malefactions.

I’ll have these players

Play something like the murder of my father

Before mine uncle.

The play’s the thing

Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.

II, 2, 617.

In hearing or reading this speech, the spectator or reader would naturally conclude that this was Hamlet’s first conception of the plot, in which he sought to prove by a mock performance of the murder the guilt or innocence of the king, yet a few minutes previously Hamlet had already conceived the idea of the play scene. Is this another sign of carelessness, or is Hamlet visualizing the effects of his scheme? Hunter, a Shakesperean commentator, would read “About ’t my brains,” that is, set about composing the lines which the players were to add to “The Murder of Gonzago,” he would also delete the word “hum.” By omitting the interjection he maintains that it makes prospective what is evidently retrospective. I contend that it does nothing of the sort, and the natural inference is, that the poet forgot that he had already invented the stratagem by which he intends catching the conscience of the king. Many instances occur in literature, whereas by means of a play representing a murder, the actual wrong-doer has confessed his crime, and been brought to justice. Such a scene is found in “A Warning to Fair Women,” a play acted by the Chamberlain’s company and printed in 1599. The play is founded on a celebrated murder case which took place in Lynn in Norfolk, in 1573.

HAM.

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers—if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me—with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

HORATIO.

Half a share.

HAM.

A whole one I.

III, 2, 286.

The difficulties of determining the precise value of a share in a theatre are manifold. The value of money in those days does not correspond in any degree to that of to-day. The purchasing power of a sovereign being from seven to ten times greater now than at the end of the sixteenth century. With the exception of corn, which in normal times was about the same price as to-day, all food was ridiculously cheap compared with our present-day prices, so that anyone with an income of, say, three to four hundred pounds a year would be regarded as a rich man. Respecting the present passage, Horatio considers half a share a fair remuneration for a deserving actor. The shares in the Globe Theatre were divided into sixteen parts; out of this number Shakespeare possessed at one time in his life two whole shares, which, it is computed, brought him in £200 a year for each share, quite a goodly income. Shakespeare seems to have parted with his shares before his death, as in his will he makes no mention of them. The technical name for the proprietors of the theatre or shareholders was house-keepers; the word has now become obsolete. I cannot find the word in the New English Dictionary, an omission which I consider almost a record.

UNIVERSITY PLAYS.

HAM.

My lord, you played once i’ the university, you say?

POL.

That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.

HAM.

And what did you enact.

POL.

I did enact Julius Cæsar.

Brutus killed me.

HAM.

It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.

An entire volume of 400 closely printed pages, gives a detailed history of plays produced at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge. The list includes both classical and early English comedies and tragedies; this interesting volume has been written in a masterly and scientific manner, and treated in a most fascinating way rarely met with in this kind of literature. Professor Boas has thoroughly exhausted the subject, and his book can be commended to all Shakesperean students. Plays were acted at both Universities in quite mediæval times, becoming a regular institution in the reign of Henry VIII. The ancient Greek dramatists were presented either in the original Greek or in Latin translations. The first comedy written in the vernacular is called “A right pithy and pleasant and merry comedy, Intitled

Gammer Gurton’s Needle

Played on stage not long ago in

Christ’s College in Cambridge

Made by Mr. S. Mr. of Arts.”

The plays produced at Oxford and Cambridge were of a private character, each college paying its own expenses for the entertainment. In later years, assuming more of a public character, and finally magnificent dramatic entertainments were given before the sovereign and courtiers. The college authorities were lavish in their expenditure according to their means, but in no way rivalled the splendour of the Court productions. Queen Elizabeth honoured Cambridge with a visit in 1564, and a great dramatic exhibition was held in her honour. The performance took place at King’s College, and a great stage was erected in the College Hall; this being found too small, another was built up in the Chapel. A chair of State was placed on the stage for the Queen. In the Rood Loft another platform was placed for Ladies and Gentlemen, and still another under the Rood Loft was placed for the officials of the Court. The scholars on this occasion were not admitted. The Queen arrived on Saturday and took up her lodgings at King’s Lodge, and on the following evening, which was Sunday, a play was given. The Chapel was lighted by torches, which were held by the Guards. The play chosen was the “Aulularia of Plautus,” being acted by the students of the different colleges.

---

THE
RETVRNE FROM
PERNASSVS:

Or

The Scourge of Simony.

Publiquely acted by the Students
in Saint Iohns Colledge in
Cambridge.

AT LONDON
Printed by G. Eld, for Iohn Wright, and
are to bee sold at his shop at
Christchurch Gate.
1606.

(Original Image)

---

The Shakesperean student will remember Polonius’ description of the literature of the drama. “Seneca is not too heavy or Plautus too light.” The next night another play was performed by the men of King’s College, who were responsible for the entertainment. The play represented was a tragedy, “Dido,” written by Edward Halwell, formerly a fellow of the College. The third night a play by Nicholas Udal, the author of the famous comedy, “Ralph Roister Doister,” was presented before the Queen. The play given on this occasion was a biblical one named “Ezechias,” performed by the King’s College scholars. All these plays were great successes. Another play was to have been performed the next night, but the Queen being so fatigued after visiting the colleges and hearing the deputations, sent messages of regret and excuse, much to the sorrow of the whole University.

Two years later, in 1566, the Queen visited the famous University town of Oxford, and stayed there a whole week. The stage for the nonce was erected at the west end of the Christ Church Hall, that being very convenient for the Queen, as her lodging was at the College. The Earl of Leicester, as Chancellor of Oxford University, received her in state.

The first performance was given on Sunday evening; although the Queen kept her apartment, and was not present, the play was acted before the Spanish Ambassador and the Court. On Monday evening the Queen attended; unfortunately, the performance was marred by a serious accident, caused by a wall giving way through the pressure of the crowd, and killing three persons, including one of the students. The play acted was “Palamon and Arcyte,” written in two parts, by Richard Edwards, the master of the Children of the Chapel; the second part was given on another evening. The play is founded on the Knight’s Tale in Chaucer, the same source as “The Two Noble Kinsmen,” part of which play has been attributed to Shakespeare, his name appearing on the title page in conjunction with Fletcher. I once possessed a copy of the first and only edition of the quarto, 1634, formerly belonging to Marshall, the Shakesperean editor and commentator.

A Latin play, acted on the following evening, closed the dramatic performances. A list of players who acted in these college state exhibitions is extant.

Reynolds, who was one of the actors, in after years became the greatest and bitterest opponent of the University stage plays. He states that he played the part of Hippolyta at Christ Church on the occasion of the Queen’s visit. The Queen left Oxford with many thanks to the whole University and repeated fond farewells to her dear scholars. The amount of the expenses connected with these plays totalled the goodly sum of £150, a large amount of money in those days.

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THE
QVEENES
ARCADIA.

A Pastorall Trage-comedie
presented to her Maiestie and
her Ladies, by the Vniuersitie of
Oxford in Christs Church,
in August last.
1605.

AT LONDON
Printed by G. Eld, for Simon Waterson,
1606.

(Original Image)

---

At Oxford the chief dramatic centres were Christ Church, Magdalen, St. John’s, and in a lesser degree Merton; performances were also held at Trinity, Exeter and elsewhere. At Cambridge the dramatic fare was more widely distributed, Trinity, King’s, St. John’s, Queens’, Jesus’, Christ, and Clare Hall all presenting plays on frequent occasions. In spite of the fact that the spurious quarto edition of “Hamlet,” dated 1603, states that the play was acted at the Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, no record exists of any such performance being given. Possibly the play was acted in the town at a public place of entertainment. The University authorities were dead against the professional actors, and persecuted them in a like manner as did the Lord Mayor of London and the Corporation. As early as 1575 both Universities issued proclamations that stage plays should not be exhibited at Oxford or Cambridge, or within five miles of either of those towns.

The first notice is interesting on account of the mention of the Earl of Leicester’s players, who was patron and protector of a company of professional actors.

“Paid to the actors of the Earl of Leicester to depart with their plays without further troubling the University XX shillings.” This order was issued in 1587, and if Shakespeare was a member of the company at the time, which is generally supposed, his first appearance at Oxford was by no means a happy one, as he was paid to go away. Many similar payments are recorded in each year, until the death of Elizabeth, and even afterwards, sufficient proof that the title page must not be implicitly relied upon, and we must abandon the idea that Shakespeare’s masterpiece was acted before the Master Dons and students of the University Halls. The same restrictions were observed at Cambridge, and the professional players were banned acting even at the outlying village of Chesterton. The censorship remains in the power of the Universities in our own time; the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford has prohibited the production of “Hindle Wakes,” a most powerful play, which the authorities should have encouraged instead of censored.

HENRY IV
PART I

PLAY. EXTEMPORE. ARGUMENT.

Shall we have a play extempore?

Content; and the argument shall be thy running away.

II, IV, 310.

In Europe, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries a play extempore was a usual form of entertainment, and was deservedly extremely popular. In this country this nimble art never took root, and was purely known as an exotic of an Italian growth. From mere buffoonery the “commedia dell’ arte” or “all improvviso,” as it was indifferently named, developed into true comedy, and many of the situations were in later times used by Molière, the grand Comique, in the literary, as well as in its histrionic sense. The Commedia dell’ arte was a species of comedy in which the actors themselves provided the dialogue. The plot or different situations were rehearsed beforehand, but the words were entirely spontaneous. Naturally, under such circumstances, the plays were acted with more fire of action, truthfulness of gesture and deportment than if they had been written by another and learnt by heart. Evidently such a method had its drawbacks, the characters became types, the audience knowing beforehand by constant repetition the nature of the performance. There were several well known types, the most popular being Harlequin, Pantaloon, the swaggering Captain, and others. Ben Jonson’s Captain Bobadil must have been modelled on this personage. The comic personages were Sgnarelle, Scaramouche, and the valets and soubrettes of Molière’s comedies.

KING CAMBYSES’ VEIN.

For I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses’ vein. And here is my speech:

Weep not, sweet Queen, for trickling tears are vain,

For God’s sake, lords, convey my trustful Queen;

For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.

II, IV, 445.

This is in reference to a well-known play, entitled “A Lamentable Tragedie, mixed full of Pleasant Mirth, containing the Life of Cambises, King of Persia,” by Thomas Preston, Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge. The printed play is without date, being written and acted at Court about 1570, and perhaps published the same year. The story is taken from an episode in the life of Cambyses, King of Persia, as related by Herodotus. The play was often parodied and held up to ridicule by Elizabethan dramatists, chiefly on account of the maudlin style of the King when in liquor. The putting to death of the Queen was also made fun of. “Weep not, sweet Queen,” may be an allusion to a scene in this play, where we read as a stage direction, “At this tale let the Queen weep.”

QUEEN.

These words to hear make stilling tears

Issue from crystal eyes.

KING.

What dost thou mean, my spouse, to weep

For loss of any prize.

Shakespeare must have seen or read the play when published. Another allusion will be found in “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” where there seems to lurk a parody of the title page of Preston’s book, “A Lamentable Tragedy mixed full of Pleasant Mirth.”

In Shakespeare’s play there is mention of a tedious brief scene of young Pyramus and his love, Thisbe; very tragical mirth. Merry and tragical, tedious and brief, Cambyses’ vein has become proverbial for rant, chiefly in connexion with the stage.

PLAY.

I’ll play Percy and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer and his wife.

II, 4, 122.

Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand forth for me and I’ll play my father.

II, 4, 477.

Play out the play.

II, IV, 482.

PLAYER.

He doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see.

II, 4, 437.

VICE. INIQUITY. VANITY.

That reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years.

II, 4, 452.

In the old Morality plays, Iniquity was one of the vices, and generally played by a clown. In Marston’s “Histriomastix,” a stage direction adds, “Enter a roaring Devil with the Vice on its back. Iniquity in one hand and Juventus in the other.” “I’ll marry you to Lady Vanity,” another of the seven deadly sins, occurs in Marlowe’s “Jew of Malta.”

CRESSETS.

At my nativity

The front of heavy was full of fiery shapes of burning cressets.

III, 1, 15.

A vessel of iron or the like made to hold grease or oil, or in an iron basket to hold pitched rope, wood or coal, to be burnt for light. Cotgrave, in his French and English Dictionary, 1611, describes them under the word “falot,” a cresset light, such as they use in playhouses.

HENRY IV
PART II

I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur’s show.

III, 1, 300.

Apart from dramatic performances, there existed in Shakespeare’s time several societies, which occasionally presented spectacular shows elaborately prepared, in order to amuse a number of spectators. These were sometimes held at the Court, and were generally of the nature of dumb-shows or masques, or formed a kind of pageant. These shows originated from the guilds of mediæval times, in which the craftsmen of the different companies gave an entertainment in the streets of important towns on Corpus Christi and other festival days.

In this particular show, Sir Dagonet is Arthur’s fool in the story of Trestam de Lyonesse. Arthur’s show was an exhibition of archery by a society of 58 members, which styled itself “The Auncient Order Society, and Unitie laudable of Prince Arthur and his Knights Armory of the Round Table,” and took the names of the knights of old romance. The meeting of the society was held at Mile End Green.

ACT. STAGE.

And let this world no longer be a stage

To feed contention in a lingering act.

The rude scene may end.

I, 1, 156.

ACTING. SCENE. ARGUMENT.

For all my reign hath been but as a scene

Acting that argument.

IV, 5, 199.

PLAY.

I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise you a better.

Epilogue, line 10.

NINE WORTHIES.

Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies.

II, 4, 239.

VICE.

And now is this Vice’s dagger become a squire.

III, 2, 343.