If, in writing dialogue, a dramatist must not speak as himself but in character, must not be consciously or unconsciously literary if not in character, how may one surely choose the right words? Perhaps one or two illustrations will help here. The citation in the left-hand column from the first quarto Hamlet states the facts clearly enough, but wholly uncolored by the emotion of the speaker. In the right-hand column the passionate sympathy of Shakespeare has given him perfect understanding of Hamlet’s feeling.
| Hamlet. O fie Horatio, and if thou shouldst die, What a scandale wouldst thou leave behinde? What tongue should tell the story of our deaths, If not from thee? O my heart sinckes Horatio, Mine eyes have lost their sight, my tongue his use: Farewell Horatio, heaven receive my soule. | Hamlet.. O good Horatio, what a wounded name Things standing thus unknowne, shall I leave behind me? If thou did’st ever hold me in thy hart, Absent thee from felicity a while And in this harsh world drawe thy breath in paine To tell my story; What warlike noise is this? |
| (Hamlet dies.) | (A march a farre off.)[17] |
Speaking, not as the historian, not as the observer, but as Hamlet himself, Shakespeare by his quickened feeling finds a phrasing of which we may say what Swinburne said of some of the lines of John Webster: that the character says, not what he might have said, not what we are satisfied to have him say, but what seems absolutely the only thing he could have said.
When a dramatist works as he should, the emotion of his characters gives him the right words for carrying their feelings to the audience, and every word counts. Writing to Macready of Money, Bulwer-Lytton said of his play, “At the end of Act in your closing speech, will you remember to say, you ‘would’ refuse me ten pounds to spend on benevolence. Not you refuse me. The would is important.” [18]
In the left-hand column the complete sympathy of Heywood with his characters makes them speak simply, out of the fullness of their emotion. In the right-hand column, Heywood’s collaborator, Rowley, lacking complete understanding of his characters, is thinking more of phrase for its own sake.
| ACT I. SCENE 4. The street | ACT II. SCENE 1. Hounslow |
| Enter Rainsford and Young Forrest, meeting | Enter Rainsford and Young Forrest |
| Young Forrest. Pray let me speak with you. Rainsford. With me, sir? Young For. With you. Rains. Say on. Young For. Do you not know me? Rains. Keep off, upon the peril of thy life. Come not within my sword's length, lest this arm Prove fatal to thee and bereave thy life, As it hath done thy brother's. Young For. Why now thou know'st me truly, by that token, That thou hast slain my brother. Put up, put up! So great a quarrel as a brother's life Must not be made a street-brawl;'tis not fit That every prentice should, with his shop club, Betwixt us play the sticklers. Sheathe thy sword. Rains. Swear thou wilt act no sudden violence, Or this sharp sword shall still be interposed 'Twixt me and thy own hatred. Young For. Sheathe thy sword. By my religion and that interest I have in gentry I will not be guilty Of any base revenge. Rains. Say on. Young For. Let's walk. Trust me. Let not thy guilty soul Be jealous of my fury. This my hand Is curbed and govern'd by an honest heart, Not by just anger. I'll not touch thee foully For all the world. Let's walk. Rains. Proceed. Young For. Sir, you did kill my brother. Had it been In fair and even encounter, tho' a child, His death I had not question'd. Rains. Is this all? Young For. He's gone. The law is past. Your life is clear'd; For none of all our kindred laid against You evidence to hang you. You're a gentleman; And pity 'twere a man of your descent Should die a felon's death. See, sir, thus far We have demeaned fairly, like ourselves. But, think you, though we wink at base revenge, A brother's death can be so soon forgot? Our gentry baffled, and our name disgraced? No: 'tmust not be; I am a gentleman Well known; and my demeanor hitherto Hath promis'd somewhat. Should I swallow this, The scandal would outlive me. Briefly then, I'll fight with you. Rains. I am loath. Young For. Answer directly, Whether you dare to meet me on even terms; Or mark how I'll proceed. Rains. Say, I deny it. Young For. Then I say thou'rt a villain, and I challenge thee, Where'er I meet thee next, in field or town, The father's manors, or thy tenants' grange, Saving the church, there is no privilege In all this land for thy despised life. (Fortune by Land and Sea, Act I, Scene 4.)[19] | Rainsford. Your resolution holds, then? Young Forrest. Men that are easily mov'd are soon remov'd From resolution; but when, with advice And with foresight we purpose, our intents Are not without considerate reasons alter'd. Rains. Thou art resolv'd, and I prepar'd for thee. Yet thus much know, thy state is desperate, And thou art now in danger's throat already Ev'n half devour'd. If I subdue thee, know Thou art a dead man; for this fatal steel, That search'd thy brother's entrails is prepar'd To do as much to thee. If thou survivest, And I be slain, th'art dead too, my alliance And greatness in the world will not endure My slaughter unavenged. Come, I am for thee. Young For. I would my brother liv'd, that this our diff'rence Might end in an embrace of folded love; But 'twas Heaven's will that for some guilt of his He should be scourged by thee; and for the guilt In scourging him, thou by my vengeance punish'd. Come; I am both ways arm'd, against thy steel If I be pierc'd by it, or 'gainst thy greatness If mine pierce thee. Rains. Have at thee. (They fight and pause.) Young For. I will not bid thee hold; but if thy breath Be as much short as mine, look to thy weakness. Rains. The breath thou draw'st but weakly, Thou now shalt draw no more. (They fight. Forrest loseth his weapon.) Young For. That Heaven knows. He guard my body that my spirit owes! (Guards himself, and puts by with his hat—slips—the other, running, falls over him, and Forrest kills him.) Good. My cousin's fall'n—pursue the murderer. Foster. But not too near, I pray; you see he's armed, And in this deep amazement may commit Some desperate outrage. Young For. Had I but known the terror of this deed, I would have left it done imperfectly, Rather than in this guilt of conscience Labour'd so far. But I forget my safety. The gentleman is dead. My desp'rate life Will be o'erswayed by his allies and friends, And I have now no safety but my flight. And see where my pursuers come. Away! Certain destruction hovers o'er my stay. (Exit.) (Fortune by Land and Sea, Act II, Scene 1.)[19] |
Two sets of extracts from the first and final versions of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House show the way in which perfected understanding of a character reveals the apt phrase.
| (Nora stands motionless. He goes to the door and opens it.) | (Nora stands motionless. Helmer goes to the door and opens it.) |
| The Maid. (In the Hall.) Here is a letter for you, ma’am. | Ellen. (Half-dressed in the Hall.) Here is a letter for you, ma’am. |
| Helmer. Give it here. (He seizes the letter and shuts the door.) Yes, from him. Look here. | Helmer. Give it to me. (Seizes letter and shuts the door.) Yes, from him. You shall not have it. I shall read it. |
| Nora. Read it. | Nora. Read it. |
| Helmer. I have hardly the courage. I fear the worst. We may both be lost, both you and I. Ah! I must know. (Hastily tears the letter open; reads a few lines with a cry of joy.) Nora! | Helmer. (By the lamp.) I have hardly the courage to. We may both be lost, both you and I. Ah! I must know. (Hastily tears the letter open; reads a few few lines, looks at an enclosure; a cry of joy.) Nora! |
| (Nora looks inquiringly at him.) | (Nora looks inquiringly at him.) |
| Helmer. Nora!—Oh, I must read it again. Yes, yes, it is so. You are saved, Nora, you are saved. | Helmer. Nora! Oh, I must read it again. Yes, yes, it is so. I are saved, Nora, I am saved. |
| Nora. How, saved? | Nora. And I? |
| Helmer. Look here. He sends you back your promissory note. He writes that he regrets and apologises, that a happy turn in his life—Oh, what matter what he writes. We are saved, Nora! There is nothing to witness against you. Oh, Nora, Nora.[20] | Helmer. You too, of course; we are both saved, both of us. Look here, he sends you back your promissory note. He writes that he regrets and appologises; that a happy turn in his life—Oh, matter what he writes. We are saved, Nora! No one can harm you. Oh, Nora, Nora.[21] |
The text of the right-hand column brings out more clearly than the original the complete but unconscious selfishness of Helmer. Ibsen, understanding that character more fully than in his first draft, makes not only the change from “You are saved, Nora” to the self-revelatory “I am saved!” but also the change to that infinitely more dramatic “And I?” which replaces Nora’s “How, saved?”